The Potomac is mighty important to wolves. Practically the last of the night-boats in the country plies from Washington to Old Point Comfort and Norfolk, Virginia, summer and winter.
In years gone by, the fabled Albany and Fall River boats to Boston could have told such stories.
Steamers of the Old Bay Line charge $4.67 each way, with staterooms at from $1.50 to $5.50.
Last fall, a couple of evangelists chartered a Wilson liner for an evening prayer service on the Potomac. Many pious people showed up, but so did a swarm of scarlet sisters.
With all the game flying low you’d scarcely think it worth while for entrepreneurs to promote stag-parties. Yet many hotel ballrooms are engaged for shows at which talent, imported from Baltimore, is seen and appropriately appreciated. These nude nymphs perform also at Waldrops on Rhode Island Avenue, across the Maryland line.
Lots of smooth, mysterious guys in Washington, not pimps, make livings introducing lonesome men to pretty babes. One, named Al Walters, ran a series of dances called the “UN Victory Girls.” He was investigated by the Washington vice-squad, which found nothing illegal, though it did determine that his net income from promoting these get-togethers was $325 a week. Walters is still around town, always surrounded by eight or ten pretty bimbos, usually blonde, and he can get to the right people because he is a great introducer.
Young love gets a break in Washington, too, because the burg with its environs is small-town in construction, with front and back porches, lawns and alleys, and plenty of dark streets and nearby country nooks to drive to. Chief among the lovers’ lanes are Hains Point and the Anacostia Flats, along the Anacostia River, where the Bonus Army of ’32 made camp. Not all who court Eros in these secluded spots are juveniles. Many adults take their occasionals there, especially white men afraid or ashamed to check into free-for-all assignation houses.
We got the following story from a cop who worked the case. A blonde waitress at the Copacabana restaurant, a rendezvous for Latin-Americans, went with a stranger in his car to the Anacostia Flats. A woman’s screams tore the night air. Startled householders in the vicinity, rape-conscious because of the front-page sex murder of a girl the day before, phoned police. The squad car cops sped to a surprised girl and an embarrassed gent. “I always scream at a time like that,” she elucidated, with indignation.
WISDOM OF A WASHINGTON WOLF
When you see someone waiting for a bus or streetcar, it’s considered polite to offer a lift in your car. Washington gallants are very polite, especially if the hitch-hiker is cute.