There is a permanent steel arch across Main Street bearing a neon sign which reads WELCOME TO RENO THE BIGGEST LITFLE CITY IN THE WORLD.

Iris a quiet little town. We can see through our windshield almost to the end of Main Street, a dozen blocks away. Everything is sharp to the eye at this altitude, the sky is immaculate, and the morning jazz coming from the dashboard is perky. It is a clean town. The great gambling palaces are modernistic, battleship grey, and all their neon signs are lit in the sunshine. The traffic lights change and our vehicle moves cautiously ahead. But a block on we are halted by a policeman who steps off the sidewalk, he stops a truck coming the other way, and escorts an old lady slowly across the street. She goes into the sedate hank and trust company next to which is an elegant women’s clothing store and next to that a store with “Craps” in gold letters on its windows. Some stores feature “Horse Betting”, others “Casino”, and others “Wedding Rings”. In this momentary halt a loud buzzing draws our attention. A gambling emporium on the left, glistening inside, is broadcasting the buzzing noise into the street and flashing a sign over the sidewalk which says “jackpot”, indicating that some where within a customer has struck the full count.

The policeman, who wears gold-framed eyeglasses, waves us on, but a woman steps up to the side window of our vehicle. She is carrying a three-month-old baby on her arm, and a suitcase.

The woman: “Am I headed fight for the courthouse, Mister?”

Driver’s voice: “Straight on one block and then two left.”

The woman: “Thank you kindly. It’s awfully confusing here.”

Driver’s voice: “It sure is, ma’am.”

She steps back to the sidewalk. There is a rural pathos in her eyes an uprooted quality in the intense mistrust with which she walks. She is thin, and her polka-dot dress is too large. She is clutching the baby and the suitcase, as though she were continuously counting them.

The policeman stops the truck _ .