Nov. 21, 2007
Bigger, brighter, better: Vegas has a fine regard for history
By STEVE FRIESS
Nothing bores me more than the laments of phony Vegas nostalgists
who bemoan the disrespect this city has for its history. Oh,
boo hoo, they whine, there goes another great Las Vegas landmark,
sacrificed on the altar of so-called progress, disappeared forever
in a great explosion of fury and fireworks, more evidence that
the people who live and prosper here feel no reverence for sacred
grounds.
It's an odd claim that surfaces with every implosion, and
it did again last week with the long-overdue destruction of
the New-Last-Worst Frontier to make way for what, at the moment
thanks to some ill-advised renderings, looks like a steroidal
horror of a replica of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan. (Steve
Wynn told me last week he's advising the Elad Group guys on
better designs; one can only hope they listen.)
The oddest part of the complaint against implosions and change
is that in my time as a podcaster and blogger, I've discovered
there are enormous legions of Vegas-lovers who do nothing but
dwell on and probe this city's history. On The Strip podcast,
we give away prizes every other week to some of those who get
our trivia questions right, and almost always they look right
past the CDs and celebrity stuff and snap up the old Stardust
room keys and the John L. Smith books.
It is a pivotal part of many tourists' adoration for the place,
the great tales that can be told of the Dunes and the Sands,
of Bugsy and Rosenthal, of Hughes and Kerkorian, of Elvis and
the Rat Pack. Websites serve as virtual shrines -- VegasTodayandTomorrow.com
and LeavingLV.net are two of the best-to the point that I suspect
Vegasophiles are more fanatical about preserving and attending
to our history than devotees of just about any other American
destination. And you never met a more serious group of history
buffs than those at the Casino Chip & Gaming Token Collectors
Convention, or the folks who crawl through a junkyard dodging
bits of broken glass at the Neon Museum just to behold the signs
stored there.
Fact is, this fervency would probably not exist were it not
for the speed at which Las Vegas changes and grows. It is precisely
because these places don't exist anymore that so much attention
is paid to preserving the memory of the things that happened
there. There's a reason we hear ad nauseam about the events
at the Dunes, Desert Inn and Stardust but not quite so much
about great moments in the history of the Sahara, the Riviera
or the Trop.
It's because true Las Vegas nostalgists aren't fools. They
know that the Bellagio is an improvement on the Dunes, that
the Mandalay Bay is a better establishment than the Hacienda
ever was, that whatever charm the Stardust, the Landmark or
the Sands had was long gone by the time Controlled Demolition
Inc. was brought in to finish off the job.
And God knows, one reason why the implosion of the Frontier
was so beautiful and satisfying was that, aside from being better-lit
and less toxic to onlookers than the Stardust, it was a terrible
place full of problems. One ingredient for a great implosion,
it turns out, is that few are really sorry to see the place
go. For that reason, the next one up-the Island Tower at the
Tropicana in January or February-should be an awesome display;
it's just, after all, a standard-issue hotel tower.
With only one exception, what's come later has been bigger,
brighter, better and more profitable than what was there before.
The exception: The monstrosity that replaced the old Aladdin.
And this exception proves the rule, because they removed a classic,
interesting structure with lots of Vegas history and replaced
it with, uh, another Aladdin, and a hideous, illogically designed
one at that. They didn't put up something better, and they suffered
for it.
And even in that, Las Vegas provides the prospect of a parallel
redemption, that of the site and of Planet Hollywood founder
Robert Earl's tattered reputation. Each relies on the other
to return both to their former glories. A few days after the
Frontier's demise, Planet Hollywood enjoyed a two-day grand
"opening," showing off some beautiful new interior and façade
designs. Time will tell.
It's not that I don't appreciate Vegas history. In fact, that's
exactly the point. Those of us who love the blink-and-miss-it
changing nature of the Strip are often accused of having no
respect for the past.
And maybe there is a certain truth to the fact that, having
only lived here on and off since 1996, I don't feel emotional
about what's lost. I did, after all, grieve (mildly) the sudden
loss a couple of weeks ago of something that is a significant
part of my own Vegas history, the White Tiger Habitat at the
Mirage, shuttered unceremoniously to make way for a new burger
joint. It made me sad and seemed unnecessary, although Steve
Wynn consoled me by explaining that the purpose of that free
exhibit at the hotel entrance was merely to sell tickets for
the Siegfried & Roy show. Somehow, I'd actually deluded myself
into thinking the White Tiger Habitat had something to do with
presenting the wonder of nature to the masses. Shame on me.
I should remember that the soul of Las Vegas is never that
impractical or altruistic. And that's not a bad thing. It's
an honest thing. It keeps everything in perspective. And to
think Vegas is so often derided as phony.
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