Once upon a time, Sean "Diddy" Combs was on top of the world. The date was July 4, 2004, and the occasion was the rapper-turned-entrepreneur's seventh annual White Party, an ultra-exclusive affair held in the Hamptons at his posh Long Island, New York, mansion. A who's who of A-listers, from Aretha Franklin and Justin Bieber to Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, appeared bedecked only in white, eager to be star players in the summer's zeitgeist-defining spectacle. Some guests arrived with Combs, who, fresh off his triumphant Broadway turn in "A Raisin in the Sun," flew in by helicopter. "This is like being with the president," Phylicia Rashad, who co-starred with Combs in "Raisin," told a New York Times reporter covering the bash. In fact, after conquering hip-hop with his Bad Boy label and fashion with his Sean John brand, Combs was focusing on politics. His self-proclaimed "date" to the party, which was co-hosted by Jay-Z and promoted by Sony, was a bona fide copy of the Declaration of Independence, borrowed from producer Norman Lear. "No one would ever expect a young Black man to be coming to a party with the Declaration of Independence, but I got it and it's coming with me," Combs said. "And I promise not to spill champagne on it." Despite all the hit records generated by his rapping and producing skills, Combs was never shy about wanting more than music world fame. His street-wise clothing label, founded in 1998, quickly catapulted him to another level of wealth and celebrity. A big bash to celebrate that newfound status was required, and the White Party was born. The festivities, which started on Labor Day in 1998, would continue for 11 years in places such as New York, Los Angeles and even the south of France. "This wasn't about having a party for a party's sake, but rather to embellish who he was in the culture," writer Mark Anthony Neal explains in "The Fall of Diddy," a documentary series that chronicles the mogul's rise and fall. The parties spoke to "a new Black money," adds Neal, "a different kind of cachet." Combs – aka Puff Daddy, Puffy, P. Diddy, Diddy, PD, Love – knew exactly the sort of show-stopping fête he had in mind. He was asked by a reporter from London's The Independent if he'd ever read "The Great Gatsby," F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novel about privilege and decadence on Long Island. His response was immediate, "Have I read 'The Great Gatsby'? I am the Great Gatsby." Now, as Combs is about to go to trial for federal charges related to sex trafficking, racketeering and transportation to engage in prostitution, these parties are being examined through a new lens. Celebrities who once flaunted their presence at these exclusive invites are now distancing themselves as lawsuits pile up related to "freak offs," smaller parties where women say they were drugged and made to have sex with multiple partners. While most accounts suggest White Parties were free of such criminal activities, other plaintiffs contend their abuse did happen at these elite gatherings of stars. Since Diddy's September arrest last year, the floodgates have opened on civil suits against the mogul, whose eight-figure fortune is said to be dwindling as a result of legal bills. Combs faces more than 60 sexual-assault suits from victims as young as 10 and incidents as recent as 2024. When contacted about the allegations and their connections to White Parties, lawyers for Combs did not offer a response. From Leo (DiCaprio) to Michael (Jackson), the stars flocked to Diddy's White Parties Combs threw lots of parties – it seemed no occasion was too small. Diddy's birthday, Nov. 4, was de rigueur. And there were countless after-parties: the Grammys, the MTV Video Music Awards, the CFDA Fashion Awards. Sometimes philanthropy played a role, whether it was to raise voting awareness or helping underprivileged kids. But at the White Parties, the emphasis was decidedly on the kind of excess that sent everyone from tabloid paparazzi to mainline magazines scrambling for coverage. They were the place to be. The champagne – preferably Cristal or Veuve Clicquot – flowed, and the gourmet food was presented with flair and then some. On one occasion, sushi was served on the nude torso of a woman. At some parties, people ended up in the pool, often losing items of clothing. At another, go-go dancers appeared to shoot fire from between their legs. Photos and videos from the period show famous revelers clearly giddy with their own hipness. There's Leonardo DiCaprio, lounging as Diddy holds a champagne bottle aloft. Rocker Tommy Lee donned a white hat for the occasion, while Mariah Carey strapped on sky-high white stilettos. In one candid shot, the talk show host Regis Philbin beams, while in another Howard Stern mingles with Diddy and his late ex, Kim Porter, and some of their kids (the couple shared Christian, now 27, and twins D'Lila Star and Jesse James, now 18, as well as her son Quincy, now 33, with singer Al B. Sure; Combs is also father to Justin, 31, Chance, 18, and Love, 2). Combs had said that his command to wear only white – once a guest was invited in barefoot after being told to ditch his red sneakers – was to put everyone on a level playing field, a bit like a school dress code. But there was more to it than that. "Don't forget that Black people in the Hamptons wasn't a common thing," says filmmaker Yoruba Richen, co-director with Emma Schwartz of "The Fall of Diddy" series. "He wanted to show he was breaking in mainstream culture, not just with Black hip-hop culture in Harlem. And it worked," she says. "It was a smart marketing thing, and at the same time it was a cultural touchstone." The high-profile guest list of those who attended Combs' White Parties was impressive, among them Mary J. Blige, Jimmy Iovine, one-time Combs girlfriend Jennifer Lopez, Martha Stewart, Tara Reid, Lil' Kim, Tyrese Gibson, Rev. Run, Kim and Khloé Kardashian, DJ Cassidy, Shawn Wayans, Demi Moore and Jonah Hill. Even Michael Jackson slipped in almost unnoticed, until he quietly sidled up to Combs and in a whisper asked where he could find Beyoncé, Combs recalled during a late-night TV interview. For one young White Party guest, the event marked an entrée into the world of entertainment star-makers Being invited to a White Party was the ultimate stamp of success, says rapper and record producer Jay Blaze, 37. "If you went to a Diddy party, you'd made it," he says, adding that his family and friends saw the invitation as a mark of high status at the time. Those invites opened doors for Blaze in the industry and with Diddy's family, including adopted son Quincy Brown. Blaze says after that 2009 invitation, he was "bragging about that party for weeks. I was ecstatic, I told my whole family. … This was my in" to music's inner circles. Blaze, who was in his 20s at the time, also attended subsequent celebrations orchestrated by Diddy. He recalls being surrounded by famous faces, from model Amber Rose to singer Mariah Carey. The atmosphere was "kind of like a circus," he says, with people on stilts and wearing body paint, and even celebrity offspring playing amid the madness. "It was just a fun, over-the-top atmosphere," he says. Those glittering events some decades in the past may well haunt Combs, who remains in custody at Brooklyn's Metropolitan Detention Center as he awaits his May 5 court date. Throughout his hard-charging 55 years, Combs, raised by a widowed mother in New York, was no stranger to legal entanglements, whether related to stampede deaths at a party he organized in 1991 or a nightclub shooting in 1999. Yet somehow, through a combination of good luck and extreme wealth – Diddy became a billionaire in 2022 on the strength of his Cîroc vodka partnership – he managed to avoid the consequences of accusations that included sexual assault. Until 2023. That's when singer Cassie Ventura, whom Combs dated from 2007 to 2018, filed a lawsuit alleging rape and a decade-long "cycle of abuse, violence and sex trafficking." While that suit was settled, a year later, attorneys with the U.S. Southern District of New York filed their own charges and last fall arrested Combs in a Manhattan hotel lobby. If convicted, Combs could face between 15 years to life in prison. Sean Combs' career mixed outrageous financial and cultural success with frequent accusations of violence It is difficult to square Combs' triumphant early years with the predator described in the indictment, which alleges Combs struck, punched and threw objects at women and used threats to keep them quiet. He and his associates are also depicted as the organizers of "freak offs" and "Wild King Nights," gatherings where women were often drugged during sex with multiple partners. Combs' legal troubles are a far cry from the days when he was held up as an aspirational model of Black success, never more so than in the years 1998 to 2009, when his White Parties reigned supreme. "He was considered an incredible curator, and that's what he was doing at those White Parties. Those parties are part of how he came to be Diddy," says Richen, whose documentary features many interviews with women and men who say they were abused by Combs. They told the director they felt free to speak now only because Diddy was behind bars. Combs' skill at drumming up an audience preceded these extravagant star-studded nights. While a student for two years at Howard University in Washington, D.C., Combs went from part-time drug dealer to party organizer. When he dropped out to work for Uptown Records in New York, he combined an ear for slick rhymes over innovative beats and samples with a skill for creating a happening. One such effort went tragically wrong in 1991, when a basketball game he promoted at the City College of New York featuring hip-hop all-stars oversold. Doors were locked. A stampede ensued. The resulting crush left nine people dead. No criminal charges were filed (though the victims' families eventually settled civil suits against organizers), and Combs forged ahead. Fired by Uptown founder Andre Harrell, Combs started his own label, Bad Boy Records, after convincing music legend Clive Davis to back him. His big hitmaker was Christopher Wallace, better known as The Notorious B.I.G. or Biggie Smalls, whose chart toppers included "Hypnotize" and "Mo Money, Mo Problems." Big hits were followed by an even larger blow, the death of Combs' friend and star, Notorious B.I.G. Combs and Bad Boy were helping define the hip-hop sound of the late '90s. But that success soon was muddied by an emerging feud between his East Coast rap faction and a West Coast sound epitomized by N.W.A. and other stars from Los Angeles' dominant label, Death Row, co-founded by Suge Knight and future billionaire Dr. Dre. The rivalry soon turned deadly. Notorious B.I.G. was shot to death in 1997 while visiting Los Angeles, months after the shooting death of West Coast rap rival Tupac Shakur. The incident devastated Combs, who from that grief created one of his biggest hits, "I'll Be Missing You," a hip-hop twist on The Police classic, "Every Breath You Take." "The Fall of Diddy" co-director Schwartz says that as Combs' music world fame and cultural influence grew, so did his drug use and often his violent rages, according to those close to Combs. Nevertheless, Combs' annual White Parties continued to cast him as the ultimate host and taste-maker. As to whether these events featured illicit behavior, Schwartz says, "many of the people we spoke with (for the documentary) said (that 'freak offs') were small events with a handful of people. It's not where celebrities went." But some lawsuits contend the White Parties did play host to questionable behavior. For example, one John Doe alleges that when he was 16, Combs assaulted him at the inaugural 1998 White Party, forcing him to drop his pants and expose himself. Leslie Cockrell alleges in her suit that, in 1999, Combs and another man assaulted her at his summer party in the Hamptons. In her case, as with many others, the assault happened after the alleged victim reported nearly passing out from allegedly having something put in her drink. And a Jane Doe alleges in her suit that she drank a drugged drink at that 2004 Hamptons gathering – which was billed as the Summer White Party at the Play Station 2 Estate – and later awoke with "throbbing pains in her vaginal and anal areas." In response to that 2004 suit, Combs' team issued an oft-repeated statement of denial: "As his legal team has said before, Mr. Combs has full confidence in the facts and the integrity of the judicial process. In court, the truth will prevail: that Mr. Combs never sexually assaulted or trafficked anyone ‒ man or woman, adult or minor." Although countless celebrities vied for White Party invitations, today most decline to talk about them Where Diddy's White Parties once were invitations to crow about, these days, it seems few are willing to reminisce. Despite the "important distinction" between the White Parties and the sex-filled gatherings allegedly featuring sex toys and gallons of baby oil, Schwartz says many of those approached for her documentary did not want to speak on camera "because any association with any party of his you might have attended felt like (a self-incriminating) indictment." USA TODAY reached out to more than a dozen people who reports indicate had either attended or helped plan some of the White Parties, and all either failed to respond or, in two instances, offered off the record comments that distanced themselves from Combs. The final Diddy White Party in 2009 went out with a bang, but one guest was disturbed by what he saw Blaze's disappointing 2009 White Party experience would prove to be the end of Diddy's hosting reign. Held at a private residence in Beverly Hills and co-hosted by Combs and Kutcher, the gathering was meant to raise awareness for Malaria No More. Not that a sober cause kept things in check. Kutcher kept things loose by hopping on a swing that dangled above an aquamarine pool, bad-boy cool in slatted white sunglasses. Chris Brown danced to Michael Jackson's "Thriller," while producer Brett Ratner and Khloé Kardashian posed with spoonfuls of Starbucks caramel macchiato-flavored ice cream. On hand were large bottles of obligatory champagne as well as smaller ones of Combs' signature scents, I am King and Unforgivable Woman. Ever the brand and collaboration pitchman, Combs made sure that his guests enjoyed free fare from Dylan's Candy Bar, Havaianas footwear, Lia Sophia jewelry and Lab Series skin care products. And to ensure the focus always stayed on him no matter whose wares were on display, servers made the rounds with silver trays bearing silver cups filled with Cîroc vodka-infused drinks called, what else, "The Diddy." Rapper Blaze, then 22, brought his video camera to capture the festivities. In it, he sounds incredulous that he's there, his camera whirling with dizzying speed around the compound. "Oh yeah!" he shouts over the rap music. "We in the building!" But a closer look at that bash reveals cracks in the glossy facade. Looking back, Blaze recalls scenes of women, many scantily clad, being grabbed by male guests and not being allowed to change into dry clothes after being in the pool. He describes the women as looking "fearful," and when he approached some of them, they said, "Just trying to get through the day." Calling Diddy a "diabolical genius," Blaze describes the sharp contrast between the savvy businessman who had created parties where he could also cross promote brands that fueled his billionaire status, and a man who kept close tabs on anyone he had ever done a favor for in case that could be used to his advantage. "On one hand, he's promoting Cirôc and it's a promotional party with all of his business partners there, and you would see those projects with business partners in the coming months," he says. "At the same time, (there's) this mistreatment of women," and a feeling of, "'I'm the king and you guys are the peasants.'" He says that at one point, at a later date, Diddy invited him to a party where "freaky-ish things would be going down," and he would have to be fine with that to be granted access. Blaze understood that to mean doing drugs and having sex, he says. Blaze declined the invitation, and for a while even backed away from the industry he had long sought to be a part of. "I looked up to this man," says Blaze. "And afterwards, I thought he was a creep." For Combs, throwing the Hamptons' biggest bash emphasized his social power Combs' precipitous fall from grace is perhaps equalled only by his improbably rapid rise from bullied child to billionaire mogul. Nearly three decades ago, an ascendant Combs reflected on how unlikely it was that a Black kid who lost his father to a drug deal gone bad had gotten the keys to the pop culture kingdom along with all the spoils that go with that lofty perch. Sitting in his Long Island mansion the night after his first White Party, he told a New York Times reporter that he often said to his friend and fellow rap impresario, Russell Simmons, "'What are you doing out there (in the Hamptons) with all those white folks?' Then I realized it doesn't matter out here whether you're Black or white." What matters, Combs understood, is if you have the social juice. And now he most definitely had it. Earlier that day, he'd invited some 75 famous friends to his home, which he'd decorated completely in white. Furniture, floor, linens, the works. Even home décor doyenne Martha Stewart was impressed, noting that her host looked "very handsome in white." The reporter was able to watch Combs operate at this seminal event, a media invite that quickly vanished as the spotlight grew larger and the security tightened. The newspaper described an attentive host. But its report included an ironic detail considering his current woes: "Mr. Combs, a man of few words, moved through the crowd as he usually does: tightly focused, without a drink or a smoke in hand, declining even to acknowledge flirtatious overtures from women drawn to him." And that, as they say, was then.