Earlier this week, a woman few of us knew, and most of us knew, died tragically.
Polly Gonzalez, news anchor at KLAS Channel 8, lost her life March 28 in a single-car accident in California while on her way back to Las Vegas after the Easter weekend. Polly was driving with her two daughters, ages 5 and 8, who survived and are with their father.
And in this newsroom, the bulletin hit like a punch in the gut. Yes, she was a familiar face on our mediascape, a 10-year veteran of the local news scene and Las Vegas' first Latino anchor. And we grieve—on principle, out of human compassion—over the loss of one so young, with so much life still to live, leaving children to live life without her. But digesting the shock of a media personality's death is an odd sensation, a secondhand, peripheral grief attesting to the illusion of an extended family that television news creates. Grief and mourning are raw, no-holds-barred emotions, and when we lose someone within our own family, we expect to get walloped by it. Nothing halfway about it.
Most of us didn't know this woman with the soft smile and warm eyes. We only allowed her into our living rooms and bedrooms, but it never got more personal than that. And when we lose her, we're caught between grief and voyeurism, simultaneously mourning and prying—from a distance.
Television is paradoxical that way. It's a voyeuristic medium, creating a twilight zone of false familiarity.
Few of us at Las Vegas Weekly knew Polly Gonzalez. All of us feel her loss. But to Polly's family who are truly suffering this tragedy, we wish you the strength to cope with help from those who love you the most. They will always see you through.
A day after the Weekly's March 17 profile of controversial city planning commissioner and Ward 6 City Council candidate Byron Goynes, the Las Vegas Tribune reported that the Rancho Neighborhood Association filed an FBI complaint against him, alleging corruption over his unabashed support of Ambling Development Corp.'s failed plan to build 300-foot condominium towers at Alta Drive and Martin Luther King.
Reached by phone, Goynes says he had no knowledge of the content of the FBI complaint or if the neighborhood association even filed one. Local FBI officials declined to confirm or deny whether a complaint has been filed.
Goynes claims the story, written by Frank Albano, was retaliation for not buying advertising in the Tribune. "I'm contemplating legal action against him," Goynes says. "Frank Albano is a snake."
Albano says he was merely offering advice: "I called all the candidates, including him (Goynes). One of my specialties is commercials. I called him and asked him if he intended to do any TV. He jumped at it. That's the only thing I ever spoke to him about."
Goynes accused Albano of trying to hurt his candidacy. Albano says that he is working for Ward 6 candidate Marlene Rogoff, but has taken a leave of absence from the Tribune until the election is over.
Time was that Comdex was the local convention that conventions wanted to be—225,000 attendants, nearly $400 million in nongaming revenue generated for the city, keynote speeches by Bill Gates, running concurrent with Adultdex (yeah, baby). Times have changed ... for the worse. Comdex 2003 drew so few attendants (50,000) that the 2004 event was cancelled. And the 2005 installment? It's going to happen. Just not here. According to www.comdex.com, the tech convention is scheduled for November 18-20 ... in Athens, Greece.
Perhaps the Producer Can Stay Awake Next Time So the Morning Show Doesn't Hit an Iceberg of Embarassment ... Or, How to Commit a Big 'Oops' for an Advertiser
On its morning show, a local radio station followed up Celine Dion's hit, "My Heart Will Go On"—the theme from the movie Titanic—with a commercial for Carnival Cruise Ships.
The highlight of last Saturdayˆs Muay Thai Kickboxing World Championships happened before fighters Liza King and Ariana Ramirez squared off against each other. King walked along the inside edges of the ring to "seal it off" from evil spirits, and then she performed Ram Muay, a ritual of fight postures aimed at focusing her energies on the bout. She approached Ramirez and did a series of dance-like moves right in front of her—putting the voodoo on her, basically, with a haughty twinkle in her eye. Ramirez could only stand there and take the wordless taunting.
If only the fight had lived up to such a sensational display of machisma. Fight promoters promised "amazing roundhouse kicks, front kicks to the head, elbows, and all of the spectacular weapons of Muay Thai." But the badass moves—the leaping strikes and the spinning windmill-like punches— the moves that were supposed to bring the crowd to their feet, instead brought their practitioners to the canvas after missing and losing their balance.
Muay Thai turned out to be surprisingly tasteful. Relaxing Thai music played during the fights. The fighters hugged and showed one another plenty of respect. And after Ramirez and King were awarded medals for a draw, they announced that they planned to go out and get drunk.
"Las Vegas 'stolen' from Arizona by Nevada" —headline from the Tucson Citizen, March 28. The ensuing article explains territorial disputes that resulted in Arizona losing control of the Southern Nevada region many moons ago. The reason they're writing about this now? Vegas' upcoming birthday bash, of course. Everybody loves a party.