We never had a bathtub. Mom would bathe me in the wooden or tin washtub in the kitchen, or in a big lard can.

Though I was a Catholic, I recognized that Protestant churches had something.

I never posed as a saint. I would have slept with a man for nothing if I liked him well enough.

Whenever I write for hotel reservations, I always enclose a set of rules I have made for the hotels.

Twenty-five years is a long time for a girl to live out of a trunk, and after looking over a few houses, I fell in love with one in Southwest Los Angeles.

We show girls were forced to live in whorehouses in each town, no other accommodations being available.

I found that a couple of bottles of beer would give me a lift, but the third bottle would sober me up.