You may walk it at any hour. No one will molest you.
Maybe a panhandler will try to mooch a quarter; maybe a flea-bitten, superannuated sister in sin will make a half-hearted signal to you that she can be had. But you won't be in danger.
What goes on upstairs, in those small, old rooms, is something else. There crime and vice and con games and watering whiskey and hypoing horses are hatched.
There adultery is accepted as a fact of life.
There people who work are regarded as outlandish and queer.
But there you find no sluggers, stickups or bullies.
These are kindly folk. Violence is not in their bag of tricks.
This is, rather, a community. The members recognize the right to steal, to cheat, to beg, to scheme, to mate, and to woo weird fancies with hooch and hop.
But, no disorder, please—this is The Canyon!