In 1976 Las Vegas was a mob town.
Everything was clean.
Everything was tidy.
Everyone knew their place.
No one wore flip-flops or tank tops in the casinos.
Young, junkie bottom feeders were allowed to exist. They served a purpose. They were consumers.
They also took care of one another, sort of like a black market Department of Social Services.
“Welcome to Las Vegas, Pilgrim!”
Tags: Max Steingrout, The Chickenhawk, Vegas
