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%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK250 Jack Fritscherprostitution, because the gag kept everybody drinking longer and later, everybody so drunk even the old whores were laughing, because the bartender paid them to keep us all spending like drunken sailors. At four in the morning, when the bars closed, that world, Oh, Jesus, was a cold place, Oh, Jesus, where street lights shined, Oh, Jesus, hard down on hard men hardening me.May 20, 1964So Louisa didn%u2019t know about Jocelyn Jennings. She was a professional graduate student. Her course work completed, she was in the sixth year of the seven maximum allowed to write a dissertation. Hers happened to be on Virginia Woolf, who had drowned herself twenty years before. Jocelyn had bussed her torso into college from Jamestown, New York. She specialized in taking new graduate students down to a cellar jukebox bar on Rush Street to twist to Chubby Checker, and frug to Ramsey Lewis%u2019 %u201cI%u2019m %u2018In%u2019 with the In Crowd,%u201d and slow-dance to Ray Charles records, %u201cI Can%u2019t Stop Loving You%u201d and %u201cRuby (You%u2019re Like a Song).%u201dOne night, in the group of us, she took a pen from her bag, wrote something, leaned into me, and said, %u201cPhone me.%u201dI did, because hers was the first phone number I received, and she was editor of the graduate school literary magazine.%u201cYou could get me published,%u201d I said, %u201cfor the first time outside the Catholic press.%u201d%u201cDid you notice you%u2019re in a Jesuit university?%u201d she said. %u201cEverything here is the Catholic press.%u201d She was something extraordinary among all the other well-bred girls and their blond beehive hairdos. She was tall, thin, and mysterious. Her long curlicue black hair flew loose, wild, around her face. In an instant, she could change, pulling her hair back and piling it on top her head like the women in ancient Greece, and behind her head, like Virginia Woolf herself in the photographs she had clipped from British magazines.She was perfect for Rush Street and Old Town, where she lived at 60 East Chicago, Apartment 403, a block from the Water Tower, and a block from the Lawson Y. Many students hived together in tiny apartments. Artists and musicians and underground filmmakers hung out at the bars and coffee shops and the Russian tea room and the Cinematheque which, she told everyone, was always getting busted by the police, because the Chicago Film Review Board were all the widows of cops and politicians. She was a presence in the Student Union cafeteria, something like Urania,