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  • Writer's pictureJeb Brack

Hell's Playroom

Studs kept an office in a Prohibition-era beast of a building down in the Hell's Playroom neighborhood where nobody admitted that things were hopeless. The cop still directed traffic; the flower vendor still cried his wares; the barber still swept up the leaves from the dying tree on the sidewalk. And Studs Fedora still went to work each day.

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