A City Runs Through It

A snake slithered across Las Vegas Boulevard. Ah, don't worry, it's the part of Las Vegas Boulevard that nobody gives a shit about. The part that starts midway between Jean and Primm. The part that, as I'm driving, is cordoned off by an orange sign: "Not a county maintained road."

Should've trusted Mapquest.com. The website told me to take Interstate 15 to get to Primm, whose three casinos all have Las Vegas Boulevard addresses. So I drove and drove and, bam, halfway between Jean and Primm, Las Vegas Boulevard ends with the abruptness of a one-punch knockout. Beyond the sign, the path veers right, halves from two lanes to one, ducks an underpass. I'm not about to risk a citation—not to mention the chance I'll pop a tire and be stranded among the snakes.

To hell with Mapquest—I say this is where Las Vegas Boulevard begins.

The sign says "Mining." Behind the handful of trailers comprising this operation is a tall, fleshy man whose red-and-black-checkered flannel shirt make him look like a lumberjack. He's sifting through a bucket of sand.

Hello, I'm a reporter doing a story on Las Vegas Boulevard. How long have ...

"A reporter, eh. I've got a lot to talk about."

He gives his name, only to tell me 30 minutes later not to use it: "I'm in enough trouble as it is."

So, how long you been here?

Since 1980. He and seven others bought the land, all 4,400 acres, in 1983. Since then, the company has mined gold, platinum, silver and group metals. Per-acre value: $600,000 to $700,000.

What's it like doing business on Las Vegas Boulevard?

"I'll tell you what ... Senator Reid is sanctimonious. He makes it seem like he's from a small town [Searchlight] and like he's all for the people, then he sponsors this legislation to give Clark County our land for a pittance so they can build the Ivanpah Airport, just giving away claims we've had on the land since 1980."

(I've opened a can of worms.)

"We thought we were protected by mining laws, but I guess not. We're in court now trying to protect our claims. Been in court for years. This is breaking me. I'm tired ... I can prove collusion between the county and the BLM, too. This is our lifeblood, 25 years of my life, and they're trying to take it for nothing."

Next stop, justice court for the Goodsprings township. The docket of cases on December 20 read like a day in Las Vegas criminal/civil courts. There are hearings for a range of offenses: burglary, property theft, aggressive driving, minor in possession of alcohol, possession of a stolen vehicle, grand larceny, possession of drug paraphernalia, bad check, speeding, reckless driving, open and gross lewdness and at least 10 cases of driving under the influence of alcohol. Let's see if the judge has time to talk.

Well, slap me with a subpoena—she does!

Good morning, your honor.

Judge Dawn Haviland: "So you're doing a story on Las Vegas Boulevard? I think you're about as far out as it goes. Here's a bit of a history and geography lesson for you. There are eight rural courts in this area, from Primm to Sloan. We cover Sandy Valley, which has 3,500 residents, and Goodsprings, which has 250 residents. We're like the rural version of the Las Vegas Township Justice Court."

What's up with that hearing docket? Seems like Goodsprings is a smaller version of Compton?

Haviland: "We're basically a frontline court. We handle arraignments and felonies, gross misdemeanors, protective orders, search warrants, etc. I've been here seven years and the workload has tripled in that time. Today, we tried a pre-adjudication case, a Scared Straight-type of program. We gave the juvenile a tour of the court, let the juvenile watch a tape where the inmates threaten the kids, and we let the juvenile sit in the holding cell. There's also a courtroom (here). We recently had a small-claims issue. It was a lesbian couple who'd been together for 20 years. It was a four-hour session. Where would they have gone if we weren't here?"

Seven crop-duster-size planes sit parked side-by-side at the Jean Sport Aviation Airport. A gate separates me from the flyboys, so I call the number: "It's a regular airport, though smaller, good for people who don't want the hassle of driving in to Vegas to go to McCarran."

Moving north on the boulevard, I pass a Clark County Fire Department station on the right and the Gold Strike hotel-casino on the left. White, trimmed in blue and red, the property resembles Excalibur. Across Interstate 15 is Nevada Landing. Judging by the near-empty parking lots and lack of homes, two casinos seem like two too many. There's even less to look at after leaving Jean. The first sign of Las Vegas' lasciviousness is a billboard for the Sin Gentlemen's Club. The first sign of mechanized life is at Kart Racing, a small track on the right side of the road with a cardboard sign and lanes formed from unused tires. Three teenagers motor around the track. Looks like they're having fun.

Still no homes on Las Vegas Boulevard. Shortly after passing the Last Call Tavern on Las Vegas Boulevard and St. Rose Parkway, I see some homes, but they're not exactly on the street. They're pushed back, separated by two football fields worth of desert.

Whoa!

Gotta stop here, if only for the name: V and K Wakimoto Farm Store. An Asian-sounding name for a hick store? The owners aren't here. Will have to settle for a none-too-talkative manager.

How long has the store been here?

"Fourteen years."

There was nothing out here in 1991.

"It was the only place they could find."

More like the only place you couldn't find, ha!

No laughter.

"There was nothing out here back then."

Surprised at the growth of the area?

"The growth was inevitable, so I'm not surprised with what's around here."

Think getting water from a rock is hard. Getting this guy to talk—that's hard.

On to the newest casino on Las Vegas Boulevard, the $600 million South Coast. Sure is a kick in the ass to the street's aesthetic. All shimmery and Mediterranean, sheened in soft gold, muted reds and earthen browns. Inside ... well you know what goes on inside—it's a casino.

The foot traffic inside is matched by the vehicle traffic heading north on Las Vegas Boulevard.

Several of the pickup trucks veer off into work sites, for Manhattan, for One Las Vegas, for Tahiti Village and the other luxury condos/timeshares planned for the street.

Hey, that giant mural on the side of the wall looks neat. Let's take a look-see.

Donnie Phillips is assistant manager of the Antique Mall of America: "We opened April 6. We're the largest antique mall under one roof in the city. We've got everything: furniture, cookie jars, figurines, jewelry, vintage clothing, flameless candles."

Why'd you open here?

"We used to be on Tropicana and Jones. When we closed, the owner of this mall [Vegas Pointe Plaza] approached us about coming here. We really hope to see the benefit of being on Las Vegas Boulevard."

Nice mural.

"Thanks."

I'm hungry. But where on Las Vegas Boulevard can you get some good, nonbar, nonchain, non-convenience-store, non-shopping-mall, non-having-to-wait-to-be-seated food in these parts? That eliminated damn near every eatery from Las Vegas Boulevard and Pebble to Las Vegas Boulevard and Russell Road—including the Las Vegas Outlet Center and Bootlegger Bistro. I had a taste for soul food. But then, I always have a taste for soul food.

You know about the next few miles of Las Vegas Boulevard. Our economic lifeblood. Important in the grand scheme of things—but not to this story.

Too bad about Ivana Las Vegas. Who knows whether the condo project at Las Vegas Boulevard and Sahara will get built. (Word is, it won't.) Not that we needed another Trump.

What we really need is for Luv-It Frozen Custard to be on Las Vegas Boulevard, not a softball toss away on Oakey.

Hey, we might be lucky on the nonbar, nonchain, non-convenience-store, non-going-into-a-shopping-mall, non-having-to-wait-to-be-seated food tip: All Star Donuts on Las Vegas Boulevard and Wyoming, right next to Olympic Garden. They serve doughnuts and Chinese food. After stuffing your face, you can go stuff some G-strings with money.

This place has been here at least 20 years. Jimmy, who's run the place since 1999, corrects me: "We've been here 25 years."

How in the world do doughnuts and Chinese food go together?

"When it first opened, business was not bad. We had lots of breakfast traffic. But in the afternoon and at midnight, nobody wants doughnuts. This is a 24-hour town, people want to eat food. So we needed more than doughnuts. We added Chinese food. We're not like Panda Express. Everything is cooked fresh, everything is made fresh."

Favorite customer dishes?

"Chow mein. Sweet and sour pork."

A lot's closed around here, including Odyssey Records across the street (now home to a wedding service company). How's the boulevard treating you?

"I like this area. There are a lot of bad people around here, but none of them bother me. I must like this area ... I keep signing the lease."

Gonna pass on All Star. Say one thing about Las Vegas Boulevard from Oakey to Charleston, sure is colorful—all the motels promoting XXX movies, the cavalcade of businesses (did that sign say "nude strippers?" Yes it did). Just past Charleston, Soho Lofts rises 15 stories. The area's roped off. No chance of chatting up the construction workers.

If this ain't a ballsy project. For years, Downtown has been viewed as a residential craphole, now you're going to invest millions to build uppity lofts? Brilliant. Gotta lure the disposable-income crowd somehow, and this might just be the spark.

Speaking of ballsy—poor segue, I know—does any job require a bigger set of jewels than a bounty hunter? (The answer, of course, is yes—military special forces; Kenneth Lay's lawyers; nannying spoiled little rich kids—but work with me here.) Enough people watch Dog the Bounty Hunter on A&E that, according to Yahoo! News, Duane "Dog" Chapman recently signed a $2.6 million deal for a third season of the reality show. Given the show's popularity and the circus affair surrounding three local bail-bondsmen who faced six years in prison after going to El Salvador to nab a bail-jumping alleged child molester—they were released after an anonymous stranger posted $30,000 bail—A Bail Bonds, on Las Vegas Boulevard near Gass, seemed like a good place to get some insight on hunting fugitives.

Mark Lyon is the bail agent supervisor: "That issue [Dirty Deeds Bail Bonds, the company that sent the men to El Salvador] doesn't happen a lot. The owner of that company used to work for us but we parted ways." No comment as to why.

How many people do you pick up a month?

"About 10. November was slow. December is kind of slow, too."

Like being in this location?

"It's easier to give people directions to. All these other places are hidden."

Ever watch Dog the Bounty Hunter? How real is it compared to what you do?

"It's diluted. For that many people to go out after one guy, it's too expensive. I guess they can do it because they have a show. But it's not an accurate portrayal of the work we do. It may be a lot safer to do it their way, but it's not as lucrative.

In two words: Oscar's River. (Dry because of drought restrictions.)

In a word: Neonpolis. (Empty because poor design.)

Once you pass Bonanza, Las Vegas Boulevard takes on a grittier feel. You see the people you often hear about. There's a day laborer-looking guy headed to Dula Gym. A handful of pants-hanging-off-their-asses young'uns going into Tacos Mexico. The two guys with their heads on constant swivel in front of 7-Eleven look like they're up to no good even if they aren't. Breaking this hold, briefly, is the Las Vegas Library, with its obelisk-like, 112-foot science tower, a cylindrical, concrete structure that hosts birthday parties, among other events. Certainly the most architecturally distinct local library.

On display in the lobby was "Reflections," a series of photos and mini-biographies, encased in glass, of African-American pioneers in the gaming and hospitality industry. Names like Hattie Canty, former president of Culinary Union Local 226, and Louis Conner Sr., the city's first black executive director of food and beverage (Fremont, 1963-1975).

You want to know what all that racket is, don't you?

It's the adjacent Lied Children's Discovery Museum. There are rides, toys, interactive games—it's like Disneyland in a box.

There's a mother with her children. Let's ask why she comes here.

Julia Ward's her name. She has four children and lives in Summerlin. Summerlin?

"Summerlin doesn't have a children's museum. We come here a lot, especially when school's out, to let the kids hang out and run around. There's lots of interactive stuff for the kids. It's a real safe environment. The downside is that it feels like you're walking in a seedy neighborhood, but the reality is that this is the heart of the city and everything is OK. They like it here and so do I."

Heart of the city, huh? If so, it's an ailing heart. Sure, the library appears to have a number of visitors, as does the Las Vegas Natural History Museum down the street, and Cashman Field at Las Vegas Boulevard and Washington (home to the Las Vegas 51s, 100,000 square feet of meeting space and a 1,954-seat theater). The other Cashman Field, the rough-looking apartment complex farther north, has seen better days. At Foremaster, the homeless and downtrodden are in full force. Woodlawn Cemetery on Owens feels like a neglected cemetery, all chipped headstones and dying grass. An older gentleman stays in the car as four youths—two teenage girls and a boy and girl of middle-school age—tiptoe to a headstone. Once found, the big girls embrace. The boy drops to his knees, sobbing.

One hundreds yards up, Las Vegas Boulevard curves into the two right-most lanes and crosses jurisdictions (Welcome to North Las Vegas).

It's in North Las Vegas, but the place feels like Old Vegas, starting with Jerry's Nugget. Look at all the middle-age folks at the slots. Bet you couldn't convince them to gamble on the Strip. The Nugget's got something those fancy megaresorts don't: proximity to the Palomino Club, the county's only nude club serving alcohol.

Let's go inside. Locked. Open from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. Just as well.

Not sure if these nice folks want any more press.

You might recall that the club was in the news last year after the May 19 murder of former doorman Timothy Hadland, whose body was found near Lake Mead, surrounded by fliers for the club. Rumor is that Hadland was killed for criticizing club owner Luis A. Hidalgo Jr. Four people, including Hidalgo's son Luis A. Hidalgo III and daughter Anabel Espindola, have pleaded not guilty to conspiracy to commit murder. Crazy thing is that five years earlier, Jack Perry, son of the club's then-owner, fatally shot an employee who was purportedly trying to buy the club.

Let me get the hell out of the parking lot.

All that worrying makes a man even hungrier.

I could eat at the Silver Nugget. Nah.

Hey, what's this place: Mario's Fish and More. Don't look like much. Who cares, it's open for business. And whaddaya know: Serves soul food.

Four-piece catfish meal. Macaroni and cheese and potato salad, bread pudding and two lemonades.

Hey, is the owner here?

Counter lady/cook: "He ain't."

She listens to my reporter spiel and OKs a quick interview. Has to be quick, there are two cars in the drive-through.

"Place has been open for a year. ... Business is good. ... A lot of people surprised at how good the food is."

We'll be the judge of that.

Food's ready.

Chomp, munch, slurp ... my bad. She's right. ... How (chomp) do you (munch) like doing (chomp) business here?

"We like it. Why are we on Las Vegas Boulevard? You'll have to ask the owner."

He's not here and I'm still hungry, so I'll finish eating.

Man, I'm stuffed. Sleepy too. But I've got work to do.

On the topic of work, chest-thumps to the designers and architects behind the North Las Vegas Municipal complex on Las Vegas Boulevard and Civic Center. Aesthetically speaking, it kicks Las Vegas City Hall's ass.

Much dap, also, to the Hispanic community for creating thriving commerce from Carey to Pecos. Maria's Taco Shop. Baja Market. Salon Mexico. Abarrotes El Toro. Llantera California. Las Islitas Restaurant. Amigo Auto Sales. Las Gorditas. Azteca Mini Mart. Belen's Beauty Salon. This is just a sample of the business. That Kmart, with its weather-worn exterior, might as well be Hispanic—damn near all the customers are.

Wow, look: the Poker Palace. This place is like the casino equivalent of a throwback jersey—old, small, but vintage.

Excuse us, sir, do you come here often?

Nelson Holly is, in fact, a regular. "I've been coming here for more than 20 years, mostly to cash my checks. I haven't been in half the casinos here (he's lived here 55 years, coming from Monroe, Louisiana), but I like this one. They've got really good food."

There's also good food to be had at the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Pecos. Stop 'N Shop (disclaimer: some call it Stop 'N Get Shot because several shootings have taken place in the vicinity) touts the "world's greatest chicken wings." I love the chicken fingers. There's good grub across the street at the Broadacres Swap Meet, the self-dubbed largest swap meet in Nevada.

Hey, A.J.—he's the swap meet security guy—how have things changed over the years?

"It's just grown. We get about 20,000 to 30,000 customers a weekend. The bulk of the vendors are now Hispanic, and the bulk of the customers are, too."

Thanks.

Passed on the way to Alexander Villas Park at Las Vegas Boulevard and Lamb—where I hooped as a lad: a former Farm Basket facility that's now a Smog Busters, a former Winchell's doughnut house that's transformed into Loan Max, a strip mall that's gone ethnic (El Vaquero Mexican Restaurant, Thai Market, Sukie's El Soft Taco), the same mobile homes and vacant pockets of desert I bicycled past on my way to Jim Bridger Middle School to swim during the summer.

The park has changed. Most everyone using it is Hispanic. That court over there, where the boy and the girl are shooting hoops, that's where me and the homies played basketball. Bloods from a nearby neighborhood would often come up. We hated bringing a ball when they played because we were scared that when it was time to go, they would take it. I remember when one Blood blocked my shot and the ball flew into the grass and hit his gun. Scary.

Las Vegas Boulevard is fairly uneventful from Lamb to Nellis. Commerce is slowly taking over, but there are still lots of mobile homes and significant graffiti problems. The back side of Rite Aid at Nellis and Las Vegas Boulevard has been turned into a canvas.

Up further is Memphis Championship Barbecue, which was a culinary godsend for this part of town when it opened in 1994. Let's stop in. General manager John Farrish wants us to be patient: A Clark County health inspector is scouring the place. He's a bit nervous.

"I've been general manager for 7-1/2 years. This was our first restaurant. It was an old fast-food restaurant. Two years ago, we renovated it and added this new dining area."

What about the surroundings?

"It's great. The neighborhood was different then, smaller, fewer homes, so we really relied on Nellis Air Force Base. Nellis provides the overwhelming majority of our customers. Now, we've got the Wal-Mart [down the street] and the race track [Las Vegas Motor Speedway]. And the bus line [Mojave Max] stops right in front of us. We love being on Las Vegas Boulevard."

Ah, Nellis, the military base in our back yard.

Nellis commandeers much of the east end—the street is so long it begins in a south-north direction but veers eastward, running parallel to some of the streets it's bisected, like Charleston.

The Las Vegas Motor Speedway breaks the desert monotony. It's still hard to believe Vegas as a racing town. Believe it, pal: the March NASCAR event draws 140,000 visitors. All's quiet now, but in three months—pandemonium.

NASCARing it further on Las Vegas Boulevard, the desert again dominates the terrain. There are fewer signs denoting the street that defines us, until there are none.

Las Vegas Boulevard ends as it starts—in the middle of nowhere, with the abruptness of a one-punch knockout.