The Last Dance at the Halo
The jazz never stopped in New York in the summer of 1922. It played in the speakeasies on 135th Street, in the ballrooms of Long Island, in the tiny apartments where young women typed all day and danced all night. It was the sound of a generation that had survived the war and decided to enjoy itself before the hangover set in. Dr. Julian Ashworth tried not to dance. He was twenty-nine,...
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