All the Women Too Ugly For Portraits

At the airport in the morning I ran into Jean Smith, who was on the same flight.  She was with her son, who was sort of big and heavy.  She asked about Jamie Wyeth.  In Denver there was a blonde girl driving a Rolls Royce, she had on a chauffeur’s cap and gave a tour of the city.  Dropped us at the Brown Palace Hotel, an old hotel with a new annex but I decided to stay in the old part.  The lobby looked better than the room, service very fast, lots of extras like showercaps, a new TV, and soap.  Room had a basket of fruit.  I called my nephew Father Paul and said I’d meet him the next day at my opening.  Picked up at 6:30 for the preview for the patrons.  Fred got really drunk.  He got mad at some tough ninety-year-old lady and told her that he was only there for the money, honey, and I tried to shut him up, but he just hated the whole thing so much, and he decided that next time I did personal appearances he would stipulate that they had to buy something.  All the women too ugly for portraits.