LAS VEGAS -- It's the kind of story that would
destroy an ordinary politician's career: Just weeks before the
election, the local press discovers the mayor welcomed a convicted
mobster to his home for his daughter's engagement party.
Yet for Oscar B. Goodman, the flap amounts to nothing but
more free publicity and a chance to mouth off. He decries nosy
reporters who think his private guest list is the public's business,
he insults a former FBI agent who calls the mayor an embarrassment
to the state, and then he returns to his role as the self-styled
''Happiest Mayor in the World.''
Happy, indeed. And why not? The only question most pundits
here have about tomorrow's election is whether Goodman will
break records by garnering more than 80 percent of the vote
in a nonpartisan contest against three lesser-known candidates.
His mob ties -- as a criminal defense attorney, he defended
and befriended some of the most notorious organized crime figures
in the city's history -- are merely part of the boisterous,
rogue persona that makes him so popular.
''Nobody cares about that crap,'' he barks from behind an august
semicircular desk littered with trinkets, like the collectors-item
$5 gambling chips with his picture on them that are legal tender
at one casino. An eBay bidder last week paid $8 for one. ''They
like me because I'm real, and that's unusual for a politician
these days.''
Most of all, they admire the 63-year-old Philadelphia-born
father of four as much for the gusto with which he promotes
that odd tourist burg he presides over as for living the sort
of regrets-free life that so mirrors the image and tempo of
Sin City.
His penchant for alcohol is so famous that he's now a paid
pitchman for Bombay Sapphire gin and hosts regular ''Martinis
with the Mayor'' sessions during which he considers municipal
complaints and signs autographs on beer coasters.
He gambles on anything from horses to ''which way a cockroach
is going to run.'' And he'll gleefully defend all of it in take-no-prisoners
verbiage that's given him both a big local reputation and a
national profile. CNN commentator James Carville, for one, has
called Goodman ''my favorite politician in America.''
The public also responds enthusiastically. During a campaign
walk through a Sprint office facility last week, workers demanded
his famous recipe for ''mobster meatballs,'' wished him well
on his latest weight battle, and asked what kind of pajamas
he'd wear for a much-hyped upcoming radio gig in which he and
a local DJ will broadcast from her bed.
A few of the office workers even complained about traffic problems
and neighborhood nuisances, all of which Goodman pledged to
fix, even as he also pledged to demand that Sprint give everyone
a 5 percent raise.
''Oscar makes a great Vegas act,'' said author John L. Smith,
whose book on the mayor, ''Of Rats and Men,'' comes out later
this year. ''We've got a political system full of prepackaged
phonies, and then there's Oscar saying, `Come have martinis
with the mayor and maybe bump into Charo.' He takes a drink,
sometimes too many, and isn't ashamed of it. That's really who
he is. He's got big ideas, he's over the top, he's a fierce
defender of this community, and he pops off.''
Those pop-offs are legendary: As the Bush administration settled
on nearby Yucca Mountain as the nation's nuclear waste repository
last year, Goodman said that calling nuclear industry lobbyist
and former New Hampshire Governor John Sununu a prostitute ''is
an insult to the prostitutes.'' He also called Energy Secretary
Spencer Abraham ''a piece of garbage.''
After the NFL rejected Super Bowl advertising by the Las Vegas
Convention and Visitors Bureau in January on grounds the league
did not want to be too closely aligned with a city known for
sports betting, Goodman wondered how the NFL could claim such
high moral ground when ''a quarter of their athletes are ex-felons.''
At one point, frustrated by the city's vagrant problem, he
suggested busing the homeless to an abandoned prison 30 miles
away or pushing them farther toward the Pacific Ocean.
''I have no regrets about anything I say,'' insisted Goodman,
the ear-to-ear grin on his cavernous, gray-bearded face subsiding
momentarily to appear more serious. ''I know what I'm doing.
Everything I do is well-thought out, carefully considered.''
Well, almost everything. The closest Goodman comes to acknowledging
a regret is his contrition over denouncing the casino industry
as ''bad corporate citizens'' for laying off thousands of workers
amid the downturn that followed the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
The comment angered the city's most powerful industry, provoking
the most significant backlash against the mayor and providing
him with a ''valuable political lesson,'' he said.
The gaming industry has since forgiven Goodman, chalking up
the episode to the mild risks of Goodman's over-the-top persona.
''The mayor will be the first one to admit he can occasionally
choose to speak on a topic before getting all the facts, and
that certainly was the case following Sept. 11,'' said Alan
Feldman, spokesman for MGM Mirage Inc., which owns six casinos
in Las Vegas.
''He's a very populist kind of guy,'' Feldman added. ''That
can sometimes tend to make him make off-the-cuff statements
as opposed to being measured in what he said. In a day and age
of incredible hypocrisy in other parts of the country, I find
that very refreshing and that's why he appeals to people.''
That's not to say he's universally beloved. Local ethics specialist
Craig Walton is discomfited by a mayor who trades on his prominence
for a contract pitching liquor, even if the $100,000 proceeds
were split evenly between the city's general fund and a donation
to the private grammar school founded by Goodman's wife.
The ACLU of Nevada is appalled by Goodman's rough handling
of the homeless and his efforts to curb handbillers who pass
out adult advertisements in public places. And the state's most
prominent political scribe, Jon Ralston, mercilessly skewers
Goodman regularly as a ''self-aggrandizing buffoon'' who is
long on flash and short on substance.
Goodman scoffs at such complaints. He points to his relentless
campaign to redevelop the struggling downtown district by using
61 vacant acres he acquired to build an academic medical center,
a cultural arts center, and upscale high-density housing. He
dreams of a major sports arena there, too, although it remains
unlikely.
Whether his popularity could transcend Las Vegas remains unclear.
He was heavily courted by Senator Harry Reid, Democrat of Nevada,
to run for governor last year and declined. Goodman refuses
to rule out seeking other offices, but he clearly revels in
his popularity. When an NFL spokesman suggested the mayor was
blasting the league to bolster his reelection chances, Goodman
just laughed. ''Is he kidding? Does he know who I am?'' he said.
''I've got a 93 percent approval rating! This might knock me
down to 92 percent.' ''
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