Las Vegas Through My Eyes - Part VI

Over the next couple of years, I took Paul to Las Vegas many times to give him what I thought was the benefit of my "insider's" knowledge. I continued scanning the Sunday L.A. Times each week. One day, I came across an advertisement for a hotel I had never heard of – a place called "Sam's Town". It seems they had just built a new hotel tower that sounded unique. It turned out that the hotel was nowhere near the Strip, but by this time, I had grown accustomed to exploring outlying areas of the city and surrounding desert during my trips. I didn't care that we wouldn't be on the Strip and the rate was astonishingly low. In fact, it was so low that I apologized to Paul before we ever arrived because I was sure the place would be a dump.

To my surprise, what we discovered was a massive property marketed mostly to local Las Vegans. But this marketing concept had been combined with a hotel tower that could accommodate out-of-towners as well. What we found was a sparkling new high-rise hotel built in a square with hotel rooms along the outside edges of the square. The interior of the square contained a massive sunlit atrium filled with live plants and trees, a manmade waterfall, foot bridges, a revolving bar in the center and restaurants along the edges. The hotel's elevators were glass and offered a view of the atrium as they rose. The rooms were spotless and just as comfortable as any on the Strip. The casino was monstrous and was filled with low denomination (read affordable) machines that seemed to pay jackpots frequently. The food in the restaurants was top notch and dirt cheap, and served by the friendliest employees we had encountered. Sam's Town quickly became our little secret and it was the beginning of what came to be a huge push by other companies to provide adult playgrounds for Las Vegas locals.

During our frequent driving trips between Sam's Town and the Strip, we began to see another side of Las Vegas. This was a side that was purposely hidden from the tourists – a side that the locals kept quietly to themselves. The locals looked at the Strip as a place to avoid, or a place to work, but never a place to spend their free time. Instead they played in the outlying casinos where they actually had a chance to win. In the winter, they climbed the 1,000 foot walls of Red Rock Canyon, golfed in Death Valley, took picturesque drives through the Valley of Fire, and skied at nearby southern Utah resorts. In the summer, they boated on the waters of Lake Mead, and picnicked in the meadows atop Mount Charleston. And at the end of the day, they all went home to their brand new graffiti-free neighborhoods, sparkling swimming pools, and three-car garages.

Meanwhile, those of us in Southern California spent our time standing in line at the DMV, sitting in traffic on congested freeways, and circling endlessly trying to find a parking place near the beach. We spent our summers avoiding any areas where tourists might flock and instead took refuge in our tiny, overpriced, non-air conditioned homes. It may sound like a bargain now, but in the mid-1990's, bungalows in our neighborhood (California-speak for tiny houses with old wiring) sold in the mid-300,000's. Conversely, brand new homes in Las Vegas complete with swimming pools sold for $150,000 or less. The choice was ours to make. Continue to rent forever in the overcrowded Southern California valleys or buy our own home in Las Vegas where we could breathe and soak our toes in our own hot tub. At the end of our lease in 1995, we packed up and moved to Vegas.

Over the next 12 years, the city continued to evolve at breakneck speed. Some was for the better, some for the worse. To be continued…