December 1992

Las Vegas, the land of “Gild and Glitz.” It welcomed us on a cloudy Monday afternoon after a five hour flight. The city sits in the bottom of a bowl, whose sides are broad and red hills – or mountains. The city is named for the green it has “the meadow” in the desert of Nevada. It was a train stop on the way to California and Colorado and Oklahoma until silver was discovered. Now it lives in the glitter of neon and skyscrapers where people leave their silver and whatever else they care to spend. It is not many who take something out of the rivers of casinos as the prospectors did years ago. It stays. But our little group of June, Tracy, Mary Lou, her friend Kathy, and Walt and I did bring some back – a little silver and some golden memories.

The first full day, Tuesday, December 1, 1992, June and I decided to visit the old city of Las Vegas. On our last visit we never got that far. We were staying at “The Mirage” on the Strip. A “Wonderland” of skyscaper, white tigers, a volcano on the front lawn – one of the newest and biggest hotels in the new Las Vegas. We had walked to the end of the strip, or nearly, we believed on our last visit. So, with the map as a guide, we felt it would be no problem to head down a few more blocks into downtown Las Vegas. Once again our map reading was wanting. The walk took over an hour and it turned out to be 4 miles in distance one way.

We visited some of the local casinos – “Fitzgerald” and “Golden Nugget.” I walked up and down Fremont Avenue thinking of how I had just read some things about John C. Fremont, the pathfinder, opportunist, political candidate and soldier of the age of “manifest destiny.” He was the Republican candidate for President in 1856. He lost to a Pennsylvanian, James Buchanan – the only bachelor in the White House. He also ran against Lincoln for the party’s nomination in 1864 and lost. His former Commander-in- chief had fired him during the early part of the Civil War for disobeying orders, somewhat like Douglas MacArthur.

I wondered what General Fremont would have thought of this street, named for him, full of discount stores, t-shirts, souveniers, honky-tonk casinos – probably just his kind of place if he recognized it all.

We did bus back to our hotel, both swearing that we could probably walk it, but it was “getting late” and “we had a show to visit that night.” “Wild Thing” was the show. It was very good. It had orangutans that were more human than humans, a magician, an ice show, dancing girls – good entertainment. The next day we visited Hoover Dam. It is on the border of Nevada and Arizona on the Colorado River. It is awesome. Between the chasm of the mountains it rises 660 feet (66 stories). If you ever go to Las Vegas this is one tour you should have on your list. We did a half-day tour. The dam is located some 30 miles into the mountains from downtown Las Vegas. The ride was interrupted with a stop in Boulder Town for a short film – footage taken during the actual construction in the 1930s. It was finished two years ahead of schedule in 1935 on budget and cost 96 lives. In 1986 the mortgage was paid off and it is now making money for all of us. It supplies the city of Los Angeles with its power, plus a great number of towns in between. We had a tour into the belly of the dam – down 53 floors in an elevator, then a walk to the floor of the dam. We saw the 30 foot wide tunnels cut into the mountain to divert the Colorado River while the dam was built – a train passes through them with ease. A trip to Hoover Dam – once called Boulder – is an education in engineering – it reminded me of what wonder the pyramids must arouse and more. It was originally named Boulder Dam but was changed to Hoover in 1946 in memory of the engineer who conceived the project with others when he was Secretary of Commerce under Coolidge.

(I write most of this on 12/16/92 and have just been reminded that it is the 222nd birthday of Beethoven the composer, not the dog. Makes 63 seems like a drop in the bucket of time).

Another memorable event was the trip home. We arrived a few hours before plane time so we could leave more money at the slot machines in the airport. Walt and I stayed behind with the luggage from the bus (we were joined with a group by our travel agent) while June and the other proceeded to the gate. As we arrived at the gate June hit a jackpot – 840 (or so) quarters – $219. We then had only 20 minutes or so before boarding the plane and I learned that the quarters had to go to the main concourse to be redeemed. So, off I went with two plastic bags of quarters. I arrived back in time to board, but our trip was not to begin. After a 35 minute delay we were informed that part of an anti-skid device for the brakes had to be replaced and “we were looking for the part.” Next, at 45 minutes, we learned that it might have to come from Los Angeles. At one hour we were advised that the plane was not leaving until 4 p.m. (it was now around 1 p.m.). We were ordered back to the terminal to transfer to another airline. We were convinced it was a conspiracy – they were not letting us leave Las Vegas with any money – they knew June had just won $200 and “they” wanted it back!

We transferred to American Airlines (we were on Northwest) and went home via Dallas, Texas – one of June’s favorite football towns. We arrived back at Dorcas Street around 1 a.m. Saturday, December 5th, tired but still in possession of the $200, finally having outsmarted whoever it is that sees that no money ever leaves Las Vegas.