Las Vegas, Labor Day Weekend, 1961

It was to be a long journey from Battle Creek, Michigan. 

It was 1961 and my mother had made a life changing decision.  She had grown up in Battle Creek, her family was there, her job at Schlure's Diner was there.  But the cold winters, the snow, the sameness had begun to take their toll.  I was four years old and often spent the winter months battling pneumonia or bronchitis.  The doctor told my mother that a warmer climate would help.

A letter arrived from my biological father, my mother's ex-husband.  He had left Battle Creek during the winter and was writing her from a place out west, Las Vegas.  The streets were paved in gold there, money was to be made if you were willing to work hard, the weather was hot, sunny, rarely rained and snow- no one could remember the last time it had actually snowed in town- he wrote.

 I remember my mother got out the Atlas and looked up where Las Vegas was located.  She must have done some long term  thinking.  By August, we were packing up everything we owned.  If it didn't fit in the U-Haul trailer or the trunk of the 1956 Ford, it wasn't going.  I was allowed to take only a few of my toys.  Top on the list was my Tiny Tears doll.  Tiny had been a gift from Santa in 1959 and I loved that doll.  When I had my tonsils out, they had to put Tiny on a gurney so she could have her tonsils out at the same time.  The only thing I remember taking is that doll.

My grandfather, I'm sure, must have had some qualms and long talks with my mother.  After all, she was about to embark on driving across the country, alone (except for me and Tiny), pulling a U-Haul trailer.  My mother was barely 21 years old.  She overcame all my grandfather's reasons for staying.  A new life awaited out there in the West and she sensed that if she did not go now, the opportunity would be forever lost.

So, we loaded up that Ford, hugged my grandfather through our tears and started out on the journey that would forever change our lives.

We drove west, stopping to eat in small diners and sleeping in cheap auto court motels.  I don't remember much about the trip until we got into New Mexico.  I was fascinated by the alligator and snake farms that seemed to dot the highway.  I begged my mother to stop every time we saw a sign for one.  The trading posts filled with turquoise jewelry, kachina dolls and petrified wood intrigued me.  The giant arrows in the ground, the giant jackalope, all the roadside attractions, I soaked that part of the trip in.  We left Santa Fe one morning, determined to get well into Arizona before stopping for the night.

We were on Arizona side when, my mother says, I let out a wail to raise the dead.  She thought I had been bitten or something worse.  I was crying.  I could not find Tiny anywhere in the car.  She had to be there, my mother said.  I whimpered "No, she's not.  She's lost."  My mother finally found a place to pull off the road and we took the car apart looking for Tiny.  She was not in the car.  I was inconsolable.  Finally, my mother found a pay phone.  She called the motel in Santa Fe where we had stayed the night before.  Yes, they said, they had found Tiny and she was safe and sound. 

I'm sure my mother must have cursed, if only in her head.  I was adamant, I was not going on without Tiny.  Finally, my mother knew there was but  one thing to do.  We got back in the car and drove back to Santa Fe.  I was reunited with Tiny and we stayed another night at the motel.  The next morning, Tiny safely in my arms, we began the final leg of our journey.

I don't remember where we stayed in Flagstaff.  We could continue on, my mother said and go all the way to the beach.  I had no idea what a beach was.  I had been to Mackinaw Island and I had seen Lake Michigan but I had no idea how big the ocean was.   Too tired, we decided that we would keep with our original plan and go to Las Vegas.

The next morning, a Friday, we packed up the car and got directions.  It was a long drive.  As we approached Hoover Dam, night was falling.  The highway traffic slowed, all we could see was a long line of red tail lights.  The highway narrowed to two lanes.  The canyon walls loomed above us with boulders perched on them, somewhat precariously to my way of thinking.  My mother told me to get in the backseat and be quiet.  I obeyed.  We had not seen traffic like this the entire trip and my mother wondered where the hell all these people could be going.  By the time we crossed the Dam it was dark.  She skillfully maneuvered the Ford and the U-Haul trailer along the windy road with its hair-raising turns towards Boulder City.

As we made our way out of Boulder City and down to Boulder Highway, there was a glow in the sky.  The traffic was still with us.  As we got closer to Las Vegas we realized that the glow in the sky was coming from all the neon lights of Las Vegas.  All the cars we had wondered about were going to Las Vegas as well.

 We turned up East Fremont Street and passed motel after motel.  The Sky Ranch, the Sky View, the Peter Pan, the Blue Angel. 

It was Friday night, Labor Day weekend, 1961.  No Vacancy signs were lit on every motel.  My mother and I had never seen so much neon in one place before.  I was mesmerized by the moving signs, the colors, the western motifs.

We had arrived in the town without much fanfare.  But for a four-year-old kid and a 21 year-old mother, it felt good and we knew we would not be going back to Battle Creek. 

Las Vegas would be our home from that day on. 

The Lost City of Las Vegas

Forty-five years ago, Las Vegas was a much smaller town. When my family moved there in 1961, it was a valley of 50,000 people. Today, there are 1.7 million and most of those newcomers have arrived in the last ten years. The small city of my childhood grew up to be the first metropolis of the 21st Century.

Yet, when people think of Las Vegas they usually think of the town that has all but vanished from the landscape. Those too young to have experienced it first hand visit it through films, books and visits to the Neon Museum's sign boneyard. The casinos and hotels market themselves using that "vintage" appeal. And yet, beyond the glitz and glamour, there is that yearning to experience it one last time as it used to be.

Having grown up with that small city, I always thought that the Dunes sign would be pushing neon into the night sky and that the front of Caesars would always be turquoise. It was only when those things were gone did I realize how much they meant not only to me but to countless others as well.

In that Lost City of our collective memory, The Treniers are performing at the The Last Frontier and the Mary Kaye Trio is cutting it up at the El Rancho. Louie, Keely and Sam are packing the room at the Casbar. Liberace is wowing the crowds at the Riviera.

A drive down the Strip will take you past not only the hotels, but also huge empty lots of land. Gas stations, such as Gulf-Western and Econo, seem to be everywhere. Motels, such as The Lone Palm and the Desert Rose, dot the highway in amongst the larger hotels. The Hacienda is considered out of town, located just south of the Tropicana. The Tiffany of the Strip and its giant pineapple evoke Miami Beach without the humidity.

A giant sultan sits atop the Dunes. When the Dunes is renovated to keep up with the times, he will be taken down and put at the back of the property welcoming tourists off the new freeway.

The Riviera is taking a gamble by building the first high rise. When it's complete it will be nine stories tall! The Sands has motel wings named after famous racing tracks. They will literally move those buildings to make room for their new tower when the high rise becomes the way of the future. The Copa Room is the hottest showroom in town. Catch Frank, Dean and Sammy for less than $20.00 and that includes dinner and two drinks! The Flamingo has giant neon champagne bubbling into the night sky. Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington and Sarah Vaughan are performing in the lounge.

There are giant Tiki gods out front of the Stardust to advertise the Aku-Aku Restaurant where you can sip your frosty island drink from a ceramic coconut. In the back of the Stardust property is the drive-in where you can take the family on a Saturday night to see Elvis and Ann-Margaret in "Viva Las Vegas". The Frontier Village is Frontierland before Disney built the one in Anaheim. There are staged shoot-outs, shops, a blacksmith and you can ride either the train or the stagecoach.

If you're lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of a young Elvis and his entourage checking it out. Wilbur Clark's Desert Inn has the Sky Room, located on the third floor, where you can dance to the tunes of the Sam Melchionne Quartet and have a view of the town from the bar. Foxy's is open and you can sit at the counter and take in the crowd: Don Rickles, Pete Barbutti, Shecky Greene and countless others cracking wise and enjoying the best deli in the west.

President Kennedy is giving a speech at the Convention Center, the old one with the Rotunda shaped like a flying saucer. Stan Irwin will bring The Beatles to Las Vegas and they will perform in that Rotunda because the Congo Room at the Sahara is too small to hold all those screaming girls.

Cassius Clay, on his way to becoming Muhammad Ali, will fight Floyd Patterson in that arena. Christmas programs, Mahalia Jackson and countless high school graduations will grace its stage before it is gone. In a strange turn of events, The Doors will play the Ice Palace (yes, an ice rink) located in the back of Commercial Center.

Fremont Street still has a few homes on it. The Ice House and Train Depot still stand to remind us of our railroad roots. All shopping is done downtown just a block away from the gambling halls. Getting ready to go back to school? Mom will take you to Ronzone's for new shoes and have your feet x-rayed to be sure the shoes are the proper size. Sears and J. C. Penney's have small department stores with pick up counters for those that ordered by mail. C.H Baker offers glamorous footwear for women. You can stare in the window and see beautiful showgirls trying on beautiful shoes. Coronet is the best five and dime in the world.

Over at the Horseshoe, Benny Binion is sharing a chili lunch with Doby Doc and Florence Murphy. You can have your picture taken with Chill Wills and a million dollars. Johnny Cash is at the Mint with a two-drink minimum, a beer costs a quarter. Vegas Vic looks down on all that is his domain, swings his arm back and forth and says, "Howdy, Pardner".

Thanks to Anderson Diary, the milkman comes around and delivers milk and cream to your door. Every Saturday at noon, the air raid signal atop Rose Warren Elementary in Charleston Heights is tested. Cruising Fremont Street is a must. At the far end of Fremont, the Blue Angel watches over the neighborhood, wand in hand, rotating around keeping an watchful eye on diners at the Green Shack.

K-LAS is still showing the advertised Saturday late-night movie, which means Howard Hughes must still be asleep. On Channel 5, Jim Parker, The Vegas Vampire, is hosting the late night horror flicks.

K-ENO Radio has Sam Cougar spinning rock and roll, K-RAM has Paul Harvey commentaries, Buck Owens and real country music. You can see movies downtown at the El Portal (which has a balcony!), the Guild or the Fremont. There's the Huntridge on Charleston. It even has a cry room upstairs for noisy tots. For the price of a movie you get a double feature. It's a great way to spend a hot Saturday afternoon in the summer time.

Boulder Highway is the only way to get to the Dam. There is only one tour offered. You have to stand in line outside (even in the summer!) and wait to be whisked down the elevator into the deco splendor that is the dam. Parking is limited and you dodge traffic to get to the ticket window. There is only one snack bar/gift shop in a small hut but it offers Viewmasters, 8mm movies of the building of the Dam and scorpions encased in lucite. But then, as now, the beauty and the majesty are what you remember.

You can drive by the Holsum Bakery on Charleston day or night and always get a whiff of freshly baked bread.

It is a city of neon and at night the skyline is aglow in different colors. The skyscrapers that define other cities have nothing on this Lost City. The skyline of Las Vegas stands all that conformity on its ear. With its hot pink neon of the Mint, Vegas Vic with a moving arm and the bullnose of the Golden Nugget awash in gold, Fremont Street is the most photographed streets in the world. The country is optimistic and the spirit of the nation is one possibilities. Las Vegas epitomizes that spirit in a raucous blend of architecture, neon and visionaries. Every night is a party and it is never supposed to end.

It is a city where myths and the truth collide and, like in "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence", the myths get printed and past down to the next generation. There are folks who fervently believe that Tommy Hull's car broke down on the old L.A. Highway and while waiting for a tow truck, he counted cars and dreamed up the original El Rancho Vegas.

Locals tell the story of how local businessman and civic booster, James Cashman, Sr. wanted a well-known hotelier to build in Las Vegas. He met with Tommy Hull and over drinks on the patio of the old Hotel Apache (now Binions) they agreed that Hull would build a hotel in Las Vegas. Hull came to Las Vegas and built his hotel on the corner of the old L.A. Highway (now Las Vegas Blvd. South) and a dirt road called Francisco Street (now Sahara Avenue). It was 1940.

The Strip was born and Las Vegas would never be the same.

Why Las Vegas?

I grew up in Las Vegas from 1961 to 1977. I did not live in a hotel. My dad was not a member of the mob. I did not learn math by counting cards or by hanging out in the counting room. I had a normal childhood just like millions of other children who grew up in towns all across America.

Less than twenty-five years ago people had a hard time believing anyone actually lived in Las Vegas. But live there we did, just like countless families before us, just like countless families since. That experience gave me a healthy respect for the history of the town.

Las Vegas spent much of 2005 celebrating its 100^th birthday, its Centennial. There were the traditional celebratory events such as fireworks, birthday cakes and parades. And because it is Las Vegas, various networks took a historical look at the city’s past. With over 100 years worth of history, I was hopeful that the history of the place that my family has called home for almost fifty years would finally be told. Instead, the same old myths and cast of characters paraded across the airwaves and, as always, I ended up yelling at the television more than my husband cared for.

For the record, Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel did not create or build Las Vegas. There was a town with people here long before he arrived. Nor is he the “father of modern Las Vegas”. That title rightly belongs to civic booster, Maxwell Kelch who, towards the end of World War 2, envisioned the town as a tourist destination for Post War America and put the wheels in motion to make it a reality.

In many ways, Las Vegas is the tale of two cities. There is the internationally famous city that is marketed to the world and consists of little more than the five miles known as The Strip. Then there is the 100-year-old town that for most of its young life has lived in the shadows of its more famous self. Filmmakers tend to get dazzled by the glitz and glamour of the Strip and ignore anything that did not happen within that five-mile block.

By now, people feel they know the history of Las Vegas based upon what they have seen on television and read in tell-all books.

But did you know long before Las Vegas became the fastest growing city in America, that people were drawn to it? That long before the modern day conveniences that we take for granted were even invented, people lived in Las Vegas without air conditioning, without regular running electricity, without paved roads? That young men from Las Vegas fought in World War 2?

In any other city the size of Las Vegas, to discover the history you would have to visit the local libraries and dig through the stacks looking for journals, letters and diaries of its early pioneers. In Las Vegas you can still talk to the men and women who grew up there in the 1910s and 1920s and they will tell you first hand what life was like in that small dusty railroad town. Old timers still remember when Fremont Street was an unpaved street lit by bare light bulbs.

It is a history that few people outside Las Vegas really know. It is a history more people should know because the history of Las Vegas is much more than Siegel and the mob.

The real history of Las Vegas is the story of incredible courage and of desperation; of tragedy and heroic deeds; of injustice and of compassion. And ultimately, of good guys trumping the bad guys. It has all the elements that makes any history compelling and worth knowing.

It’s the story of families, like Von Tobel and Beckly, who stood in 105 degree weather on May 15^th, 1905 to bid on parcels of land because they looked at the dusty railroad stop and saw a brighter future.

It’s the story of the Hanleys, McDaniels, Pinjuvs, Foleys and others who, in the depths of the Depression and a dwindling population, never gave up on the place they called home.

It’s the story of Maude Frazier who made it her mission to ensure that children of all ages received the best education possible and it’s the story of those children who, because of Frazier’s hard work, went to college and returned home to make their town a better place.

It’s the story of George and Peg Crockett who carved an airport out of the dusty terrain with little more than sheer determination, hard work and a lot of sweat.

It’s the story of James McMillan, Charles West, Lubertha Johnson and others who endured the Jim Crow segregation, fought back and ultimately broke the color line forever.

And while it is the story of the mob, it is also the story of B. Mahlon Brown and others on the local, state and federal levels who worked together to bring down the mob and break its grip on Las Vegas.

The history of Las Vegas is the rich and textured story of everyday men and women who turned a dusty railroad town into the Entertainment Capital of the World. They set the stage for Las Vegas to become the metropolis of the 21^st Century. Without them, Las Vegas would be just another forgotten water stop along the railroad and there would have been no reason for “Bugsy” Siegel to ever come here in the first place.