Scott Bitterman, a former busboy and then assistant manger at Studio 54, recalls: “My favorite regular at the club was a bright, funny elderly woman who came several nights a week and danced much of the night. I attended several dinner parties at her apartment with friends–but the film reduced her to an insipid caricature as ‘Disco Dottie.’ In real life, ‘Disco Sally’ was Sally Lippman–a witty and brilliant attorney admitted to the New York State Bar in the 1920s. Sally represented the best of the club for me: she was neither rich nor famous. She was a woman who loved to dance and have fun with her friends in the evening.” After her husband passed away, she found a new lease of life in the discos of the 1970s and 1980s. “I gotta come every night. It’s like a drug,” Sally Lippman, who was a lawyer, told the Washington Post in 1978. “I haven’t practiced for 40 years but have given out advice free, gratis, for nothing.” Her husband, who died in 1975, had studied law and had worked for the Federation for Jewish Philanthropies and in public relations. Her husband never really liked to dance. They both liked “good music.” In September 1978, Sally first came to Studio 54 “with a young 25-year-old boy” who told her, “You really must see it.” She recalled, “I stuffed my ears with cotton, and came.” Clad in glittering sequins and feather boas, she commanded attention as she sashayed onto the dance floor of Studio 54, the iconic nightclub that epitomized the hedonistic spirit of the 1970s. Despite her age, Disco Sally exuded an infectious energy that belied her years, captivating fellow club-goers with her boundless enthusiasm and zest for life. Sally died, in May of 1982 in Mount Sinai Hospital, and despite repeated requests, no one played disco at her funeral.