By 1947, Fremont Street was beginning to hum with a different kind of electricity. The mob’s fingerprints were everywhere, but the town itself was still small enough that everyone knew the bartender’s name — and probably what he owed in poker losses. The desert wind carried the smell of dust, diesel, and perfume. From above, the street must have looked like a glowing fuse, inching … Continue reading El Cortez – Fremont’s Flicker