If a Ball Drops in the Council Chambers and No One Picks It Up …

What happens when leaders do a whole lot of nothing?

Damon Hodge

A family of 500 could have breakfasted on all the waffling at last week's City Council meeting, as officials painstakingly avoided substantial action on three hot issues—any of which could come back to toast them.



1.) DOUBLE DIPPING: Seven months after the controversy came to the fore, the city still has no definitive policy on whether city employees can serve as legislators. Last Wednesday marked the third postponement on a ruling and what seemed like the umpteenth change in stances by several council members. Formerly for a ban, Councilman Gary Reese now opposes one. Previously against a ban, Mayor Oscar Goodman now favors one, with some provisions.


Which is it, people?


"We could have made two or three motions to settle it, but we didn't," says Reese, stating the obvious, before muddying the issue. "I still have just a little bit of heartburn over this. If I work for the city and you're telling me that I can't run for public office, I would be offended if somebody made a ruling. This is America. Let everybody put their fliers out on the table."


Your thoughts, mayor?


"I'm still open on the issue, but there has to be some reform. The city has to be the leader on this issue, but the Legislature has to start cleaning its house."


Why didn't you pound that home? Only Lynette Boggs McDonald voted against further foot-dragging. The vote was 6-1 for postponement.


"I missed an opportunity to reiterate this. I will do it at the next meeting."


Perhaps the fourth time is the charm.



2.) TREASURES: Speaking of charm, Treasures, that $30 million castle of a strip club on Westwood Drive near Sahara and Interstate 15, has had a charmed existence since it opened in 2001. During license hearings back then, lawyer Mark Fiorentino mollified concerns about the dubious histories of owners Ali and Hassan Davari, whose Houston strip clubs have been the scene of multiple drug and prostitution-related arrests. He told the council to revoke the club's license if it recorded one prostitution-related conviction. There have been a handful of prostitution arrests, along with excessive dancer-patron cavorting and obstruction of police officers—22 violations in its six-month existence. But no conviction. So the Davaris got a three-month extension on their temporary license, but not before Reese gave a tough lecture about the club being on "thin ice." Tough to tell if it sank in: Hassan Davari read the paper throughout the hearings.


Reese justified the council's ruling by noting that there have been complaints about other clubs, and it'd be unfair to use Treasures as a measuring stick. "We will have to look at taking other companies licenses away, too."


And what's wrong with that?


"It's pretty hard to regulate and control morality. If I have a manager there, and he can't see stuff going on and tell them to knock that stuff off, then there's something wrong. The problem is they are absentee landlords. Metro is not in there every night. If Metro's there one night, what are they doing the other six nights?"


We'll find out in three months, when the Brothers Davari come back before the council. Unless they prove to be incorrigible louses, they'll straighten up and fly right. Which isn't the best message to send other club owners who might rely on the if-it's-not-a-conviction-you-must-acquit defense. Goodman declined comment to the Weekly; his son is a lawyer for Treasures.



3.) MENTAL HOSPITAL: Speaking of declining comment, that's essentially what the council did regarding the state's plans for a $32 million, 190-bed mental hospital near Jones and Oakey, an area already glutted with social service facilities, including a 103-bed mental health facility. Residents complain about the mentally ill wandering the streets, flashing drivers and using light poles as toilets. Citizens mounted opposition, convincing lawmakers to defer to the City Council; they held rallies and started a website, www.stoptheprison.com, which asks residents to "defend your neighborhood from the state proposed mental lockdown facility for the suicidal and homicidal." Given the power to modify, delay or even kill the project, the council … punted.


"We decided to not decide. We took a stand about eight months ago. We didn't want any more new beds in Las Vegas until they started putting beds somewhere else. Nobody has to tell me about this issue. I've been inundated with calls for nine years about the problems of the homeless and the mentally ill," says Reese, who tried to frame this as a north-south battle. "It's terrible that someone from Winnemuca can tell me what I need to do in Southern Nevada … there's nothing prohibiting them [state officials] from doing what they wanted to."


But state officials asked for input. "We, of course, were looking for some direction from the City Council, and that obviously didn't happen," Greg Bortolin, spokesman for Gov. Kenny Guinn, told the Las Vegas Sun.


If the hospital goes up, the city will bear at least partial responsibility.


Though he cited the north-south beef, Goodman was more perturbed by lawmakers who voted for the project, later urging him to nix it. He offered a possible solution.


"Everybody on the council knows we need mental-health facilities, that we're woeful in this capacity and we need a lot more than what was being suggested," he says. "I wouldn't mind having a facility in the area I live. They're no danger in the community as I understand it."


Think his neighbors would agree?

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