The Photography of Gabriel Blackhelm
It is late when I roll into Tonopah.  I grab my shiny black jacket and walk down a dark side street.  Panes of diamond checkered glass in red and white display the names of table games in cursive gold lettering, Roulette.  In the main lobby of this historic hotel liquor bottles illumined in neon blue and red seem like potions and I think perhaps there is some potency in them besides alcohol.  I walk past the bar to a museum at the back and look in the glass cases at ingots of silver ore samples, old tin-type photographs of men with bushy mustaches and wooden scaffolding of mining operations.  Down a hallway I descend a flight of stairs and see behind the glass of a locked door another bar.  There is an oak bar and booths with black and white pictures and looks like something I would imagine finding in New York or San Francisco in the 1920's.  The stairs creek as I walk up the steps of scarlet red carpet and I look up at the wall of varnished wood above the entrance to the hall: Jack Dempsey Room.
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