Pinetop, the tiny outpost on the edge of the Reservation, had along its main drag a few motels, two or three restaurants and a handful of nondescript bars, among them them the popular but shabby Dew Drop Inn. Nobody much cared whether you were black, Latino, Indian or whatever. Most of the faces are familiar, some names are remembered, others are not. With almost no light except one over the bar and one over each pool table, the environment was hardly conducive to photography. Nevertheless …
See: Related Posts