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1  l a s v eg a s, n eva d a • 1 j a n ua r y 1953 Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!! An explosion of sound bombards the midnight desert air. Whistles, shouts, laughter, sirens, bells, car horns and party horns, firecrackers, and even an echoed gunshot or two. Outside the Desert Inn casino, a conga line snakes from the front door and winds around an oval fountain that shoots water sixty feet in the air. Tight sheath dresses and starched white shirts, black pumps and polished cowboy boots, cashmere and leather, martini glasses clanging, confetti everywhere. Onstage at the newly opened Sands, Frank Sinatra croons a soft rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” while the audience sways in their seats, and sighs. Meanwhile, inside the Sahara the jangle of slot machines and the whirr of shuffling cards scarcely pause. Some revelers choose to dance, but most stay intent upon their games. A croupier calls out a roll of the dice; a blackjack dealer flops an ace on his king; a roulette wheel spins a die onto black thirteen. Las Vegas, every night and every day, bringing the American Dream to life. No one loses here. ...

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