Every city has them and they aren't that hard to find. Just go in the opposite direction of where the Visitor's Bureau wants you to go. The alleys, the dark parking lots in the shadows of deep red brick, the asphalt patches and pooling stains of oil. Walk these streets and, as Rod Serling used to say, there's a signpost up ahead: DO NOT ENTER. Actually, two signposts. Mystery writer Cornell Woolrich called this shortcut from bright lights to night and fog "The Black Path of Fear."
This spot is in downtown Tucson, just around the corner from a restaurant serving "chic, upscale Mexican fare," according to Yelp, where I had a delightful pulled pork salad before taking this ectothereal backway to my car. The city fathers have eliminated most of these thoroughfares--downtown, at least. This one survives. By Robocop's dystopian Detroit standards, it isn't much. But if the ghost of director Gerd Oswald ever decides to remake the Tucson-shot, color-saturated A Kiss Before Dying (1956) as B&W noir, it should do.
(And old Gerd was up to it. The six or so Outer Limits episodes he did--the original, not the limp reboot--are minor masterpieces of mood and shadow, lensed in glorious shades of gray. Read the excellent The Outer Limits: The Official Companion by David J. Schow for the lowdown. See also this recent Film Comment piece on the man.)