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Has it really been a year since the last Focus on Nevada Photo Contest? Did 2023 get shrinkflated?
Those 12 months certainly were well-spent by the photographers who submitted entries this year. Nevada Public Radio’s Scott Lien, our photo contest guru, reports that there were fewer entries than last year, but that they were of significantly higher quality.
“We had more proficiency,” Lien says, “clearer, more purposeful shots. We had the usual random stuff, but once those were weeded out, those that remained were very well thoughtout and planned.”
… and, full of horses! This year, an unusual number of equids appear in the winning shots. And, despite lightning and snow’s usual preponderance in entries, neither of them won anything. Lien believes both flukes are a testament to the judges’ impartiality. Because the judging process has been done remotely since the pandemic, judges don’t discuss photos among themselves. That has created, as we noted last year, surprising results. Such as three of the 12 top photos including a horse!
And speaking of judges: Thank you to these arts community leaders who volunteered their time to thoughtfully consider each and every picture in the categories they were assigned, as well as all of the finalists. And, above all, thank you to the 300plus photographers who went out and captured Nevada from every possible angle.
“I really enjoyed seeing Nevada through the lens of these artists,” Lien says.
And while you’re contemplating what’s beyond your front door, can I interest you in Las Vegas nightlife? No? Clubs not for you, huh. Then, our second feature is, actually, right up your alley. For this year’s look at nightlife in Nevada’s biggest city, we decided to turn the lens on those communities that are big enough to sway markets, but too small to be mainstream — LGBTQ+ individuals (p. 68), seniors (p. 66), those under 21 and other non-drinkers (throughout). We even included a nod to those who’ve decided going out isn’t for them at all (p. 70).
If you fit into a category we didn’t cover, we want to hear from you! Drop me a line at heidi@nevadapublicradio.org and tell me where you fit in the diverse tableau that is Vegas life after dark.
As for me, if I’m not at an Aces basketball or Aviators baseball game, you can find me eating out Downtown or bingeing news and Netflix on the couch. If it’s the weekend, I may be camping somewhere in this strange, beautiful place we call home.
See you out there!
Heidi
Listener Greg Brown, whom we interviewed for an April segment of KNPR’s State of Nevada about UNLV’s creation of a Jewish Affinity Group for faculty and staff, took issue with our May interview of two university students participating in pro-Palestinian protests on campus. Brown objected both to their comments and to our decision to cover the group they’re affiliated with, Students for Justice in Palestine, and their actions.
“ There is another way to express their views, to learn about the issues and to contribute to civil dialogue,” Brown wrote, in part. “For instance, a number of student and community groups held, just hours after (SJP’s) disruptive and hateful demonstration, an interfaith dialogue, ‘How to Be a Peacemaker.’ Earlier in the year, other student groups have held very informative and civil conversations, including a lecture on the history of Israeli-Arab relations, a townhall on the prospects for a ceasefire, a panel on the legal questions of genocide and human rights, and a presentation by four young Israelis about their experience as first responders on October 7. Just last Monday, not mentioned in the segment, a rally to ‘Stand Against Hate’ was held on campus, which was widely reported upon for its dignified, undisruptive, and unprovocative rhetoric. Students sang, prayed, read names of the 133 hostages still held by Hamas, and expressed their support for a university free from hate speech and for a peaceful and secure future for all peoples of the Middle East.”
He concluded, “P eace requires work and hard truths. It cannot be achieved by anonymity, attacks intended to silence others, or hostility. Most of the university community pursues this every day.”
To share your thoughts about anything you hear or read from Nevada Public Radio, email them to heidi@nevadapublicradio.org
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A Las Vegas high school photo class provides a safe place to fail, and the technical skills to win
BY Anne DavisTaya Etzell remembers her first major win at a photography competition like it was yesterday.
“I saw my name up on the screen and everything around me felt like it just kind of went silent and blank,” Etzell recalls. “It was so surreal, and I just (felt) a huge rush of emotions. I was crying up on stage.”
As Etzell walked through the cheering crowd and tearfully stepped onto the stage last June to accept her gold medal, she became the newest member of a small group of Las Vegas-based students to win first place in the photography division of the SkillsUSA Championships. This annual competition in Atlanta gives high school students around the country a chance to compete in more than 100 technical categories corresponding to real-world jobs.
Yet Etzell’s victory was also the culmination of years of tireless training and near-wins. Just two years earlier, in 2021, she didn’t know how to use a digital camera and professed only a vague interest in photography. “I remember looking at
the list of electives I could take at my high school, and I said, ‘Oh, photography, that sounds interesting!’ I just kind of saw it as a fun class.”
That notion was dispelled when she met James Counts, Shadow Ridge High School’s multimedia communications teacher. “Once I had Mr. Counts,” Etzell says, “I really just saw the potential and how photography influences our world as an art form, and how expressive
you can be with it.”
Counts, who had been teaching photography and visual arts for the Clark County School District since 2015, could spot talent when he saw it. And he saw it in Etzell. Before long, Counts says, Etzell had jumped into training for SkillsUSA with both feet. “Taya made it her thing,” he says. “She became one of those (students who says), ‘I’m doing this. This is my new career focus.’”
Within six months, Etzell had learned
how to use a camera well enough to place second at the SkillsUSA state competition in the spring of 2022. Though her score wasn’t high enough to advance to the championships, Etzell says it provided the motivation she needed to train harder for the following year’s competition. “It made me see (that) I really do have some potential in this and that my hard work is paying off — how much work I put into this determines my result and where I can go with it.”
Reinvigorated, Etzell and Counts spent hours each week studying the judges’ notes for her, drilling editing techniques, and taking hundreds of photos around Las Vegas. Through it all, Counts ensured each misstep was a learning experience. “You’ve got that old saying, ‘Failure is not an option.’ I mean, yeah, it kind of is, because you’re going to fall on your face — that’s the learning process. School is a safe place to fail. And (you) get back up and keep doing and keep doing.”
By the time April 2023 rolled around, Etzell had won the state competition and was on track to compete in the championships in June. She laughs as she remembers her jitters before the competition. “I still was just as nervous as the first time!”
Now, a year after her win, Etzell’s a freshman at Oregon State University studying Digital Communication Arts and Photography. When Counts considers both her work at OSU’s school newspaper and her plans to pursue professional photography after she graduates, he sees the real-life fulfillment of his mission as an arts teacher in Etzell. “My goal is for them to have a skill that makes them long-term employable,” he says. “I want to keep them so that they can survive downturns, because goodness knows we’ve had a chunk of those.”
And for those students who just see photography as “a fun class,” like Etzell initially did, Counts says it can still lead to personal growth. “If for nothing else, it’s a confidence booster. It allows them to do and see real-world consequences of what they accomplish.” ✦
Nevada Women’s Film Festival celebrates 10 years, but ‘extreme inequities’ in the industry still exist
BY Josh BellWhen Nikki Corda founded the Nevada Women’s Film Festival in 2015, she had no idea she was creating a Las Vegas institution. A CSN film professor at the time, she was just looking for a student club project. “I noticed there was a disparity between how many women students we had at the time and male students,” Corda recalls.
She had also just seen Jennifer Siebel Newsom’s 2011 documentary Miss Representation, about that same disparity in the wider film industry, which was eye-opening for her, even as someone with experience working in Hollywood. “The documentary really changed my life, as I became aware of just how bad the situation was for women in film,” she says.
So, Corda decided that her club’s first project would be a local film festival for women, and she posted a call for submissions on FilmFreeway, a popular online film festival hub. Because she didn’t charge a fee to submit, she received approximately 700 submissions, far more than expected. “We had no idea that that was going to happen,” she says. “But what that told us was how many women there were out there who were really anxious to tell their stories.
We just moved forward with that and said, yes, we are a real film festival, and never looked back.”
Now the Nevada Women’s Film Festival is celebrating its 10th edition with a fiveday event at UNLV, and Corda has built up a support system of women in the local film community — including professors, filmmakers, and industry professionals — who help put on what has become the third longest-running film festival in Nevada.
“We are just the little engine that could,” says Nevada Film Office Deputy Director Danette Tull, who’s been involved since the festival’s first year. “We don’t have a celebrity spearheading this festival. It’s just us.”
Filmmaker and UNLV professor May May Luong has also been on the board since the beginning, and in 2017 she was chosen as the Nevada Women Filmmaker of the Year. “To be among the women that they’ve honored in the past and the ones that they’ve honored after — just to be a part of it is something I’ll remember forever,” she says.
To celebrate the 10th anniversary, this year’s festival will feature a Women of the Decade event, bringing together all past Nevada honorees, including this year’s Nevada Woman Filmmaker of the Year, Reno-based director Kari Barber. “What we’re looking
for is somebody in the community who has been creating work that is really worth bringing attention to,” Corda says of the distinction’s criteria.
Other highlights of this year’s festival include the return of the Young Filmmakers’ Workshop, an initiative pairing professional mentors with high school students to create short films that are showcased at the festival. This year, Corda worked with board member Keely Dervin to hold a workshop at Canyon Springs High School, with Luong as one of the mentors. “Being able to foster the love of filmmaking in our younger generation, and to see their enthusiasm and their creativity come through while making their films, is just amazing,” Luong says.
Beyond NWFF, Corda also heads up the nonprofit organization Women in Film Nevada, which is planning regular film screenings throughout the year to supplement the festival, beginning this fall. It’s part of the group’s overall mission of bringing more attention to the festival and to the role of women in film.
“We’re very happy that 2023 was such a big year for women in film,” Corda says. “But we have to remain vigilant. There are still extreme inequities if you look at the statistics.”
“When it becomes less of a phenomenon that women have been nominated for an award or we stop looking at these statistics on how many women are involved in major films, that’s when we know that we’ve actually made real progress,” Luong adds.
NWFF is a key part of that progress, and Corda has big ambitions for its future. “In the next 10 years, Nevada Women’s Film Festival aspires to be the premier women’s film festival in the United States,” she says. “We want to be a major film festival in this country and an event that our community can be proud of.” If the past decade is any indication, she’s well on her way to that goal. ✦
The Nevada Women’s Film Festival is scheduled June 19-23 in the Flora Dungan Humanities Building at UNLV. Tickets are $12-$17 per screening/panel, $30-$50 festival passes. More information is at nwffest.com.
BY THE NUMBERSIn April, Nevada business leaders joined with others nationwide arguing for comprehensive labor reform to help solve the shortage of blue-collar workers in the U.S. Here are some numbers to illustrate the situation.
46.2
3,300,000
Number of immigrants added to U.S. population in 2023
Percent of U.S. population that is foreign-born
HEAR MORE on local labor from KNPR’s State of Nevada.
6 MILLION + 13.9% 19% MILLION
64%
Percent of immigrants who are employed
The number of foreign-born people in the U.S. as of 2022
Increase since 2010
The number of undocumented immigrants living in Nevada
Percent of Nevada residents who are immigrants
100,000 WORKERS 1/5
Amount of the pandemic-era increase in U.S. gross domestic product accounted for by immigration
170,000 = 5,000 Workers
How many new construction workers Nevada needs to meet market demands
Sources: Briefing Book, Bureau of Labor Statistics, Congressional Budget Office, Migration Policy Institute, Southern Nevada Home Builders Association, U.S. Census Bureau
Your neighborhood library helps you to explore the unknown and look beyond. It is the place where all are invited and everything is free. You will find learning and personal growth, technology skills, homework help, small business and career support, community, culture, art galleries, and live performances. Visit us in person or at TheLibraryDistrict.org and discover the power of a library card.
In the summer of 1946, twin fouryear-old brothers from the outskirts of Washington, D.C., went on their first cross-country camping trip with their mother in her station wagon. For more than 5,000 miles, she did all the driving, setup, cooking, and cleanup, stopping every night to camp on public lands in state and national parks.
“(My mom) was a very liberated woman for her times, and she had a love affair with the American West,” Alan O’Neill says, fondly. “We were lower-middle class and didn’t have a lot of disposable income. My dad had to stay home to work and wasn’t a camper anyway, so she did it alone. Every 10 days or so, we splurged on a motel.”
In 2023, O’Neill won the Nevada Conservation League’s Harry Reid Lifetime Achievement Award for his 56 years of public lands service. This year, he was one of three people who received the National Parks Conservation Association’s Marjory Stoneman Douglas Citizen Conservationist of the Year award, which honors those who go to great lengths to advocate for the protection or expansion of the National Park System. O’Neill credits his mother, Virginia O’Neill, for these achievements.
“She had this incredible lust for living and adventure,” he says, “and she instilled that in us.”
The trio repeated their summer road-trip ritual every year until Alan and his brother,
An
Brian O’Neill, went away to college. They usually made their final stop somewhere in California, Oregon, or Nevada, before heading home. “My brother Brian and I were extremely close,” Alan O’Neill says. “We had our own language. We both became geography majors at the University of Maryland — which absolutely came from the trips out West.”
The brothers worked at the Department of the Interior after college, at an exciting time in conservation. Redwood National Park and North Cascades National Park were established their first year, and the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, along with many other environmental initiatives, were passed at the beginning of their careers, cementing their dedication to preservation.
But it was the Mojave Desert that would catch Alan’s interest and never let go. After working as the assistant superintendent at Glacier National Park, he transferred to Lake Mead in 1987, intrigued, he says, by the million-and-a-half-acre park. Planning to be here for only a few years, he settled into
Nevada, and ended up serving as Lake Mead National Recreation Area’s superintendent from 1987 to 2000. He never left the area, despite other opportunities.
“I would have considered myself more of a mountain person before living in the desert, but I really enjoyed Las Vegas,” O’Neill says. “I had access to the urban attractions but so much nature close by.”
Hiking around the desert, he says, he discovered natural springs and interesting ecotones, feeding his sense of discovery. After his superintendent position, he spent the next 10 years as the founder and executive director of the Outside Las Vegas Foundation, now called Get Outdoors Nevada. Currently, O’Neill focuses his efforts on volunteer work, including on the boards of both Friends of Sloan Canyon and Friends of Avi Kwa Ame National Monument.
He counts his four years working with the diverse coalition that pushed for Avi Kwa Ame’s national monument designation among his dearest projects. “I find sacred
areas everywhere I travel, but nothing compares to Avi Kwa Ame,” he says. “If that area had gotten disrupted with industrial development, it would have been tragic.” The national monument designation brings him hope, he adds.
“I first met Alan in 2021, and he became a huge mentor to me. It was clear that he had made a lifelong commitment to protecting this landscape and fulfilling his word to the tribes he first worked with,” says Kim Garrison-Means of Friends of Avi Kwa Ame. “Seeing how he uses his skill set to be an advocate has inspired me to use my own. The work didn’t end at the monument designation. It has just begun. The resources this land needs to function as a national monument are huge."
O’Neill also weighs in on other development projects threatening critical landscapes. He helped get the Tule Springs Fossil Beds and Gold Butte National Monuments protected as well. Today, you can find him supporting the East Las Vegas National Monument proposal, covering a 32,618-acre area that includes Frenchman Mountain, Rainbow Gardens, and the Great Unconformity.
In Eastern Nevada, near Ely, O’Neill is advocating for the Swamp Cedars Shoshone site, Bahsahwahbee. Giant cedar trees grow there at a lower elevation than normal, baffling ecologists. The Shoshone people have occupied this region for thousands of years, and it is the site of brutal massacres of their people. Tribal leaders are fighting for a national monument to honor and protect the area.
Returning to the subject of his mom’s legacy, O’Neill says he believes her dedication to taking her kids on long road trips set the trajectory of his life.
“We were hard to get through to, but when we were around nine we went to a Yellowstone campfire program and declared to our mom that we would be the director of the National Park Service and secretary of the Interior one day! She just laughed,” he says. “It was remarkable for kids from our urban environment to come out here. The basketball court and baseball field were what we had. But my mom talked about how important it was to protect the land. If we didn’t do it, we would lose it.” ✦
9155 South Las Vegas Boulevard
BY Oona RobertsonThis unassuming plaza is well south of the Strip, but you can still see people pulling their suitcases along behind them in search of the northern lights. My friend and I stop to admire the mural that adorns the Antique Mall of America , the reason we came here. Complete with an American flag and a bald eagle, the wall depicts Vegas at its early 2000s best.
Before we step inside the mall’s 43,000-square-foot expanse, getting lost in time and space, we walk its perimeter, which is, by all appearances vacant of people, business, even tumbleweeds. We begin to feel like the last people on earth, peering through windows and guessing, from the effluvia, what once was. Highlights include a vacant storefront with a banner inside reading, “Opening Summer ’07, Stoney’s Las Vegas, Biggest Honkey Tonk” and Romper Room 24/7 Learning Center, with colorful walls and rows of wooden beds. It looks as if all the babies got up and left; then, we notice one teacher sitting at a little table in the corner.
Vegas Pointe Plaza also has a barber shop, a tattoo shop, and three churches, one of which we pause outside of to listen to the Sunday chorus. We decide not to enter, though, being scandalously dressed (by church standards).
Inside Bangin Ballz Billiards Bar we are surprised to find — people! “Nothing really goes on here,” Nick Chang says, sitting behind the counter by a large selection of bottled beer, soju, and soda. He’s talking
about the mall in general, because this place itself is full of families playing pool. This is a family business, and Chang is a relative of the owners. “They were longtime pool players, and they wanted to start a pool hall because in Las Vegas we don’t have that many,” Chang tells us. We order coconut water and Funyuns, a strangely good combination, and play a round on a big table — $12 per hour, or $10 on a small — which I win on a technicality.
At Honors Brand, a clothing company that started in Hawaii, we get a tour from owners Raleigh Robertson and Sublu. The storefront serves as a fulfillment center and studio, rentable for photoshoots, podcasts, and events. After peering into all the gutted vacancies, we can imagine how much work they put into the place, built out so that every wall is a photo op. We’re impressed.
And last: Antique Mall of America itself. It’s grand, disorienting, and packed full of the kind of kitsch and hidden treasures I would hope for and expect at a Vegas antique mall with only six people in the parking lot on a Sunday afternoon. The prevalence of the word “firm” on signage convinces me that haggling is a solid option here, and the remnants of what used to be a checkered floor food court make me wish I had seen this place when it opened 19 years ago. In another time, this mall might have been crowded with life, but it gives us a place to take a breath and find a few gifts from the past to take home today. ✦
What are you searching for? Step into our world of magic. Your neighborhood library beckons with enriching experiences and local talent. It is the place where all are invited and everything is free. You will find learning and personal growth, technology skills, homework help, small business and career support, community, culture, art galleries, and live performances. Visit us in person or at TheLibraryDistrict.org and discover the power of a library card.
Make photo artistry fun with these locally sourced tools
By Sarah BunTaking pictures is the easy part. Anybody with a phone can do it. But artistry? That takes grit, patience, and planning. The not-so-secret to being great, professional photographers tell me, is to keep practicing. These three photography-related tools can elevate anyone’s craft, no matter where they are starting.
Print photo aficianados with a high need for instant gratification should swing by the Leica Camera boutique inside B&C Camera. Among the other treasures in this one-stop gear and accessory shop is the Leica Sofort 2 ($389), a hybrid camera with instant print functions. “We have seen photographers use the Sofort 2 as a small printer for their larger sensor cameras, for events and street photography, and encounters alike,” product specialist Nathan Kellum told me. See where your creativity takes you — on paper! store.bandccamera.com
Photographer Edden Amber’s Vegas Analog shop at the Arts Factory offers museum-grade printing, vintage photography products, and workshops. One prize find is the PhotoMemo film photographer’s notebook (two pack for $12). Designed by Shoot Film Co.’s Mike Padua, this journal allows film photographers to capture grocery lists, haiku, sketches, film data, or whatever else they’d like on paper. Sometimes, it’s useful to get back to basics. vegasanalog.com
Created by owner Kyandy, ScrapbooksRUs’s Las Vegas travel scrapbook age kit ($9.99) is the shutterbug’s ideal add-on to a scrapbooking album. The kit includes one card stock, three 4x5 photo mats, and picture embellishments. Her store features a large travel section and scrapbooking accessories for all occasions. Feeling like a kid in a (keepsake) candy store is a common side effect of shopping here. kyandyland.com 3
What a school assignment taught me about ancestry, slavery, and the need for hard truths in history classes
BY Maegan Melissa“ Abigail, we can escape to the North.”
On April 2, 2019, Ancestry.com released an ad titled “Inseparable,” where a white man holds a ring and proclaims his love to a Black woman. “There’s a place we can be together,” he tells her after she expresses hesitation, with the actress giving her scene partner a stiff shrug and the beginning of a protest. “Will you leave with me?” he asks. It’s something out of
a Civil War-era romantic drama; if their story continued, I’m pretty sure the white guy would end up dying in his Black lover’s arms à la West Side Story
Understandably, the response to this ad was swift and brutal. “We have serious questions on why @Ancestry thought this was a good idea,” tweeted the Georgia NAACP. Ancestry.com eventually pulled the ad and released an apology for “any offense that the ad may have caused.”
Around the same time, my mom, who had sent her DNA for analysis two years earlier, started receiving notifications about DNA matches from distant white relatives. My mom, a light-skinned Black woman with green eyes, obviously knew that there was some white in her, despite both her parents being Black. But to her horror, the result said that she was approximately 38 percent white, mostly from the United Kingdom. It disgusted her to the point where she yelled at me when I rounded the percentage to 40. “I don’t want any more,” she said.
Two years later, while I sat with her and drank coffee, I watched a news story about a crowd of white parents protesting Critical
Race Theory (CRT) at a high school in Reno. That same year, news broke of a Black mother suing Democracy Prep Nevada charter school in Las Vegas after her half-white son received a failing grade for a sociology course led by a teacher who “ … blatantly justif(ies) racism against white people,” according to an email she sent to the school. I wondered: Where were these people when I was a kid? I was born in 1997 in Phoenix. Frequently, my brothers and I were among a small handful of Black children, if not the only two, in primarily white classes. More than one classmate asked me if I had a “bad sunburn” because of my skin tone. My mom and dad, having grown up in Los Angeles and Charlottesville, Virginia, respectively, did not share our experience. Yet they were not ignorant of their children’s situation. My favorite subject growing up was history. Stories of the past fascinated me, and when teachers read from our textbooks, my imagination would run wild. Throughout school, I saw myself as part of a larger tapestry, especially when we discussed the Civil War and slavery. We talked about the Atlantic slave trade and how it was shaped like a triangle.
I learned that slaves sang while they picked cotton. And most importantly, I learned that they were Black. A favorite fantasy of mine was of being a runaway slave who infiltrated the frontlines of the Confederacy with Harriet Tubman and helped the Union succeed. For a fifth-grade activity, I made a paper doll of my character wearing a ragged purple floral skirt, and my teacher hung it up on the wall. Most of the other dolls were soldiers and nurses.
In fourth grade, my teacher assigned what she called a “heritage project,” meant to help us get to know our global lineages and share them with the rest of the school. I was ecstatic. My parents never really talked about our family history beyond our grandparents, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to set out and find the truth for myself. My teacher even told us we could look up our family records online! I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my mom. Being about nine at the time, I didn’t know how to look things up on the internet, but my mom has always been a computer whiz. So, I asked for her help with the project. However, instead of saying, “Sure, Maegan,” and sitting at my computer, she simply told me, “Your dad’s side is from Virginia.”
I may have been a child, but I knew damn well that Virginia was a state, not a foreign country. But no matter how many times I pressed her, she repeated the same thing: “You’re from Virginia.” Annoyed, I eventually gave up. I was stuck with Virginia as my family’s home country. So, while everyone else in my class was gluing pictures of their grandmother’s pelmeni on construction paper, I was looking up facts about a state half of my classmates had visited. A fan of birds, I added several pictures of native bird species around the state flag to make my poster look “exotic.”
And, of course, there was a required presentation. Every fourth-grade class had to stand in a line wearing cultural clothes and tell the entire school where their family was from while our principal held a microphone to our faces. Fittingly, I was among the last few kids to present. I wore my regular clothes, but my mom added a faux-fur vest that I didn’t usually wear (to add some culture, I guess). When my principal gave me the mic, I said, “I’m from Virginia! Brrr!” I even pretended to shiver. My principal gave me an awkward chuckle and moved on to the next student.
Three years later, my seventh-grade teacher assigned another heritage project
— a class requirement, of course. Instead of feeling excited, I was annoyed. At this point, I felt ashamed of my ignorance — how hard is it to find out where you’re from? However, I wasn’t nine anymore. I knew how to look things up online, so I took it upon myself to find my ancestry.
Since my mother always talked about my dad’s side of the family, I decided to look for her side. Following my teacher’s advice to look up our parents’ last names and work from there, I typed in my mother’s maiden name and spent the night scouring the internet. Eventually, I came upon some relevant information: the name of a British-owned plantation.
There it was. Never had I felt so accomplished. I had finally solved a mystery that had eluded me for years; I could finally tell people about my family’s history. Well, at least half of it. With this new information, I excitedly texted my mother, “Grandad is British!” along with the plantation’s Wikipedia page. I couldn’t help but feel a bit smug, honestly believing she would thank me for my diligence. Instead, she responded with a simple, “We’ll talk about this later.”
I always knew we weren’t 100 percent Black, because I have working eyes and a mirror. So, at the time, I thought that my grandad, a heavy-duty diesel mechanic from Texas who fried fish and played dominos, must have had British roots. I thought that his family (probably his dad’s side) had come from England and fallen in love in America. His parents (and my grandmother’s) were Black, so that had to be the case.
I thought my family’s story was like everyone else’s in my class; a search for a new life. Then, my mom sat me down and told me the truth. Most of my ancestors did not sail across the Atlantic in search of a better life, nor was my mother’s last name (or my father’s) a sign of our heritage. Our ancestors were bought and enslaved. No record of them existed until after they were freed. Every time her kids were asked to do one of these heritage projects, my mom contacted our teachers. If she couldn’t get us excused from the assignment, she offered a compromise. We couldn’t make a presentation on America, so we would focus on an area where our family had the most history: Virginia.
As much as I would love to think otherwise, my ancestors weren’t living in that Ancestry.com ad. I have gone to many a family function, and every single person there was Black, save the occasional nonblack friend or partner. No one in my family has heard a
harrowing tale of how my granddad’s great grandmother was swept off her feet by the plantation owner’s son under a starry sky one warm summer night. There are no records or memories of a happy union, but there is plenty of evidence of slaveowners’ viciousness. I know what may lie within that unspoken space.
My situation isn’t unique — many Black Americans have a nagging percentage of whiteness in their family tree. While not every single case is the byproduct of slavery, there are too many such cases to ignore. As I mentioned, my dad is from Charlottesville, where Monticello stands next to its reflective manmade pond. From my experience, it’s not uncommon to hear whispers and speculation within Black families who have Virginia roots. My own dad has told me in passing that we might be related to Sally Hemings and, consequently, Thomas Jefferson. It’s unconfirmed, but the possibility makes me ill. I don’t want any more.
Although the plantation stamped with my mom’s maiden name is vacant, her digital family tree still sprouts new branches — new distant relatives logging on, new white people we’ve never met scattered throughout the South. I have nothing against those people at all; they aren’t responsible for what their ancestors did. But I, respectfully, want nothing to do with them. Because, at one point, half of my family was systematically abused by the other half. Even if the people who owned my family were kind, even if they fell in love and ran away, even if Hemings and Jefferson were both in love, the truth remains just as Monticello’s official website puts it, when discussing Hemings’ life: “Enslaved women had no legal right to consent. Their masters owned their labor, their bodies, and their children.”
Resources from different perspectives of American history are more accessible than ever, so there are few excuses for epistemological blind spots. We must look straight into this country’s shameful wounds, not to sow division or guilt, but to find honesty. After all, many families like mine across the country have had to be honest with themselves for centuries. Consider, for instance, my oldest brother’s heritage project from 1995, when he was in sixth grade. Under the section labeled “Immigration to the United States,” he wrote two simple sentences: “My family’s ancestors were brought to this country on slave ships against their will. There were no immigration records for slaves.” ✦
People who know me best might call me mostly sweet, a little salty at times, and, like our town, spicy 24/7. I enjoy balance in friends and food. So, it’s difficult to get me all in on dessert. Too saccharine is too much. But I tried two pastries at two different spots recently that satisfied my slightly sweet tooth. For those with an eye and taste for artisanal confections, head to Donutique (Venetian, donutique. com), an elevated donut experience. You will pay more for these doughy delights ($5-$9 each), but this is the type of treat you may eat with a knife and fork. Bee inspired by the truffle honey donut, a bougie balance of black truffle honey, honey butter, royal icing, and a honeycomb tuile. The upscale shop also offers vegan and gluten-free options. I recommend taking a minute in your sugar high
to enjoy the unique space. It’s fit for a modern queen — Versailles juxtaposed with graffiti art and kitschy quotes, such as “donut kill my vibe.” I’m charmed.
Need another well-balanced sugar suggestion? Hoho Crunch ( 8610 W. Spring Mountain Rd., cheongdamfoodhall.com/ hoho-crunch) sparked my savory sensibilities with its handcrafted hotteok, a popular crispy Korean street food. It’s a sweet pancake traditionally filled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and nuts. You can choose between three crave-worthy flavors at the Cheongdam Food Hall location: the customary original crunch, ube crunch, or, my favorite, the Oreo Nutella crunch. It’s dance in your seat delicious, and you get all the salty sweet goodness for less than three bucks a piece!
Still waiting for my wow moment at the new Durango Casino & Resort (6915 S. Durango Dr., durangoresort.com ). It’s certainly a stunning resort with a multitude of food options, like their neighbors across the street at UnCommons (6880 Helen Toland St., uncommons. com ), but at the newest Stations casino, everything I’ve sampled tastes just okay so far. It’s a wise restaurant rule of thumb to allow a few months for chefs, managers, and cooks to smooth out any inconsistencies — so I’m willing to give the otherwise wonderful
location more time. As a former hospitality worker, I want these local spots to flourish. I’m just not impressed with any of the bites yet.
What is always stellar? Three Square’s Las Vegas Restaurant Week (restauran
caper sauce at Amalfi ( Caesars Palace, bobbyflay.com/portfolio/amalfi) and the filet mignon dipped in cabernet jus at Ocean Prime (3716 Las Vegas Blvd. South #401, ocean-prime.com/locations-menus/ las-vegas). At Town Square, I’ll be at Weera Thai (6805 Las Vegas Blvd. South, weerathaiseafood.com ) for their awesome panang curry with salmon and mango sticky rice. You can pick from hundreds of delicious choices across Southern Nevada. (See The Guide, p. 31, for details.) Get ready
COCKTAIL OF THE MONTH
Even in the desert, summer means tropical flavors. Many rummy-fruity drinks are weak sauce, both in flavor and potency. The Red Dwarf offers a refreshingly unique take with its Hits Different, a perfect July beverage. Novo Fogo Passion Fruit Cachaça and Boukman Botanical Rhum give it a nice kick, mango nectar and Demerara syrup add sweetness, while coconut cream smooths flavors and textures together. The name is a reference to the Taylor Swift song, which in turn refers to the drink’s taking a few cues from the batida cocktail, whose name can translate as “hit” or “beat.” (The singer/songwriter/juggernaut also inspired the drink’s candy bracelet garnish.) A Swiftie tribute at a punk bar, a fruity drink that’s not cloying, a liquor-forward cocktail that doesn’t smack you in the face — it, well, hits different. — Lissa Townsend Rodgers
That’s the Vegas Dish for now. Until we
Derek “Heavy D” Hendrickson works as a national account manager for a food distributor. In his spare time, the Las Vegas resident enjoys meeting new people and traveling to new places. Recently, he went to The Beast gastropub in Area 15 and ate a two-pound seasoned beef burger with a pound of crispy bacon, a pound of American cheese, and piles of lettuce, tomato, onions, pickles, and Thousand Island sauce on a King’s Hawaiian loaf, with a one-pound side of fries, and four signature potato tornadoes.
Hendrickson is a competitive eater, a member of a subculture that dominates the food scene with its over-the-top extreme challenges, and where contestants wolf down heaps of burritos or shrimp under a specific time limit. But Hendrickson, who’s currently No. 8 on the Major League Eating (MLE) leaderboard, says the sport isn’t about stuffing yourself until you can’t anymore. He says there’s an exact science behind it.
“You kind of have to learn it for yourself,” he says. “And it really teaches the message of ‘Everybody is different,’ because some eaters have a different skill set and a different specialty that they can do, and others of us don’t and it’s just kind of finding what works best for your body and going from there.”
Competitive eating dates back to medieval times. The late sociologist Priscilla Ferguson described it as an expression of identifiably American connections between abundance and country. “Overeating both honors country and transgresses social norms,” Ferguson wrote in the journal Contexts. The sport does have its critics. Some view it as gluttonous and wasteful, some say it’s part of the problem in a nation wracked by a diabetes epidemic, and others voice concern about eaters developing health problems down the line.
Despite the risks, the sport is thriving. Robert Kellner, Area 15’s vice president of operations, believes the reason comes down to Americans’ competitive nature; most people wouldn’t back down from a challenge when urged on by a group of friends.
These days, restaurants use competitive eating as a marketing strategy. The Beast launched its latest challenge in March. The meal Hendrickson ate, called the Feast, is free for anyone who finishes it in an hour and $88 for anyone who doesn’t. As of late April, five people had attempted and two succeeded.
Much of the inspiration for the challenge came from Area 15 owner and CEO Winston
Competitive eating meets immersive entertainment for a truly Vegas spectacle
BY Sarah BunFisher, according to Kellmer. Since the company is experientially driven, creating the challenge was a way to “gamify the culinary experience,” he says. The Feast is “the core of what The Beast is. It’s a big, loud, in-your-face, meat-driven concept.”
Unlike a challenge, a competitive eating contest is a spectacle, where the goal is to see who can eat the most in 10 minutes or finish first against other eaters. Since Hendrickson is under MLE contract, he can only do MLE contests.
Hendrickson says he got into competitive eating because he’s good at it. He calls it a “boutique hobby for the weekends” that takes him to places he has always wanted to go, such as Knoxville, Tennessee, where he’ll compete in a bologna-eating contest in May. But the deeper reason is that Hendrickson had struggled with weight issues growing up. He failed many diets, but competitive eating helped him get excess weight off and gain control of his health. “It’s not something I want to lose again, because I feel so much better,” he says, “which is funny because you’re going to eat so much.”
To stay in shape, Hendrickson says, he does one challenge — like the Feast — per week. On his off days, he eats healthy, drinks lots of water, fasts, and hits the gym. He
also goes to the doctor two or three times a year to make sure his lab work is within range. On the side, he helps restaurants such as The Beast film and take pictures, and lends help wherever needed.
“It’s just the love of the game, love of what you want to find, what fills those holes in your heart and what gives you joy,” he says. “Stepping onstage, hearing your name, getting to eat and all that … that’s what I’ve chosen to do.”
Raina Huang, a competitive eater in Southern California and frequent visitor to Las Vegas, is the second contestant to conquer the Feast, finishing in just under 53 minutes. Part of why her millions of social media followers enjoy watching her eat, she believes, is that they don’t expect to see a female gorge on enormous amounts of food. Huang says people are drawn to food challenges because of the “wow factor,” and because “food is a universal language.”
Still, Hendrickson doesn’t recommend kids or just anyone get into competitive eating, because it’s dangerous; people choke and have died from it. But, for him, it’s a gift: “I wish I was better at rocket physics and things that were cool, but (this) makes me happy.” ✦
Sample summer's hottest music, art, and theater events
BY Mike PrevattTHEATER Girl From the North Country
JUNE 4-9
>>> This touring production is not the first Broadway musical to use the music of Bob Dylan, but it is the one critics and audiences actually liked. Which is somewhat remarkable, because Girl From the North Country doesn’t directly link Dylan’s lyrics to the narrative unfolding onstage, nor is it blatant nostalgia reverie (like most jukebox musicals). Instead, two families in a lakeside home (and others they encounter) in Depression-era Minnesota struggle to understand what life has thrown them — while belting out 25 songs spanning six decades of Dylan songcraft. So, how does it feeeeel? One critic said, “Piercingly beautiful,” but you should find out yourself. Tue-Sun, 7:30p, Sat-Sun, 2p; $30-150; Reynolds Hall at the Smith Center; thesmithcenter.com.
Puccini’s La Bohème
JUNE 7, 9
>>>If you love opera, you know it, maybe by heart. If you don’t, you still know something about it. And if you’re a Broadway fan, you’re familiar with its rock opera equivalent, Rent Giacomo Puccini’s enduring masterpiece has won over generation after generation since 1896 thanks to librettists
Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa’s inspired (and liberty-taking) adaptation of Henri Murger’s novel, Scènes de la Vie de Bohème . Singing in Italian (with English subtitles), a cast of seven will present the story of Parisian free-spirits Rodolfo and Mimi and their romance compromised — though not weakened — by poverty, envy, and illness. Surely there’s an update in the works involving private health insurance carriers and late-stage capitalism, but expect Opera Las Vegas’ interpretation to hew closely to the traditional presenta-
tion. 7:30p (June 7), 2p (June 9); $50-90; Judy Bayley Theatre at UNLV; operalasvegas.com.
JUNE 14
>>>Nevada has the fewest wolves in the western U.S., but one area rich with them is Yellowstone National Park, due in part to the efforts of wildlife biologist Doug Smith. His quest to reintroduce the canine to the two-million-acre park — which, in turn, would control the mammal’s herbivore prey and enhance the ecosystem’s vegetation and plant life — took almost 30 years. But
Smith’s successful program became world-renowned. So, how’d he do it? He’ll explain it during a presentation — part of the Smith Center’s National Geographic Live series. 7:30p; $20-49, Reynolds Hall at the Smith Center; thesmithcenter.com.
JUNE 22
>>>Classical music has evolved over the years for many reasons, one being its adaptability for hybridized genres. The success of Hauser (born Stjepan Hauser) is a testament to that, as the Croatian cellist has nimbly blended his pop and rock influences with his four-stringed companion over two decades. Local entertainment devotees may recognize him from his stint in Elton John’s backing band during the English superstar’s Million Dollar Piano residency at the Colosseum. Lately, he’s been touring arenas with a show that adds even more genre blends to the
mix, including Latin and soundtrack music. Las Vegas will get a more intimate Hauser show at the 1,480-seat Encore Theater. 8p; prices vary; Encore Theater; wynnlasvegas.com.
JUNE 28-29
>>>The final production of A Public Fit’s 10th season could be filed under: The One That Got Away. But as it turns out, it’s more complicated than that. Old school sweethearts Peter and Kari run into one another at their 20th high school reunion, and with the pangs of what could have been also comes resentment from what actually happened . Cue an existential exploration of overcoming regret and bad decisions — as well as trying to fully realize a second chance when life’s complications stand in your way. Craig Wright’s 2003 talker doesn’t bog itself down in sentimentalism, but it does thoughtfully
JUNE 3-14
>>>It’s almost two weeks long, but who's counting? Three Square surely is, hoping to use that time to raise some very critical dollars for feeding the food-insecure in Southern Nevada (which numbers one in eight residents). The concept is simple: Participating dining locations — more than 200 were on offer in 2023 — feature a separate prix fixe menu and a portion of your bill goes to Three Square, which then prepares meals for those who need them. The promotion provides the perfect excuse to return to some of your old favorite spots — or try some new ones. Hours and locations vary; $20-120; restaurantweeklv.org.
ponder the circumstances where love gets a second chance. Come witness it during this free staged reading, which, in the hands of A Public Fit and its casts, are much more than readings. Fri, 7p, Sat, 2p; free; Clark County Library, apublicfit.org.
JUNE 30
>>>The dilemma for the three-decade-old, 100-member-strong Las Vegas Men’s Chorus: How to end its 31st season, but also warm up for its participation in July’s huge LGBTQ-chorale GALA Festival in Minneapolis. The solution: Give audiences a little bit of everything. The selections for June’s Color the Wind program will span genres and artistic disciplines, from pop (Cyndi Lauper) and
R&B/soul (Motown) to musicals ( The Sound of Music, Priscilla Queen of the Desert ) and even classical and jazz (George and Ira Gershwin). If there’s anything that unites all that, it’s melody and harmony — coming from and espoused by the unabashedly feel-good chorus. 4p; $25-55; Artemus W. Ham Hall; lvmenschorus.org.
Southwest Artists: The Influence of Sculpting Using Found Objects
THROUGH JULY 11
>>>For every five creatives that went to Blick’s to pick up a brush, canvas, and some acrylic paint tubes, there’s one that rummaged in their garage or a second-hand store for inspiration. The American Southwest artist participants of this show took a similar route, giving another look at an old clock or crate or maybe another sculpture and remixing it like a Daft Punk song. And Influence isn’t just a celebration of second-chance art, it’s
a statement for the value — and beauty — of repurposing. Head over to City Hall on your lunch break and take in an exhibit that might look like your living room … after popping an edible. Mon-Thu, 7a-5:30p; free; Las Vegas City Hall Grand Gallery
turn inspired a 2015 musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber (Cats, The Phantom of the Opera), produced for Broadway, London’s West End, a national tour — and now, our own Super Summer Theatre. Pack a picnic basket, grab a blanket, head for the splendor of the Spring Mountain Ranch State Park, and take in the riffage of kids who may one day secure their own Strip residency. 8:05p; $20250; Super Summer Theatre; supersummertheatre.org.
JULY 12-28
JUNE 12-15
>>> The United States’ most recent addition to the federal holiday calendar is Juneteenth, which, even before its official designation was considered “America’s Second Independence Day.” That’s because the holiday commemorates the end of slavery, as it finally occurred on June 19, 1865. Juneteenth events typically include a variety of activities, many of which will be available at the one produced (for the 23rd time) by the community organization Empowering People, Igniting the Culture (E.P.I.C). Specifically, food, live music, family activities, artisanal goods, and other Black cultural offerings will highlight the celebration. Times vary; free; The Expo at World Market Center; june19lv.com.
SEE MORE events, and submit your own for inclusion in The Guide online.
>>>Before there was the 2003 film School of Rock — featuring a memorable lead performance from Jack Black — there was a School of Rock afterschool music program that taught kids how to play instruments and perform together (with three locations in Las Vegas alone). That school inspired the movie, which in
>>>Were you asking for another remake of The Princess and the Pea? Doesn’t matter, because you’re getting one — and this one turns the fairy tale on its head. Queen Aggravain enacts a law that no marriages can happen until her immature son finds his princess bride — and the only thing stricter than that are the tests
by which she’s judging the princess candidates. Along comes Winnifred the Woebegone, who hails from a swamp and may be as immature as her would-be husband. Does she have a shot? And will a swamp princess even know what a mattress is? Driving the story and dialogue are several humorous songs, thanks to music by Mary Rodgers and lyrics by Marshall Barer, with book credits for Jay Thompson, Dean Fuller, and Marshall Barer. Several famous actors got their first Broadway (Carol Burnett) or television roles (Elliott Gould) on adaptations of this adaptation. Get some respite from the July sun and have a laugh. Fri-Sat, 7p, Sat-Sun, 2p (except July 13); $35; Las Vegas Little Theatre; lvlt.org/ onceuponamattress.
Three exhibits THROUGH NOV. 23
>>>The Majorie Barrick Museum is fluid about a lot of
things, especially how many exhibits it’s showing at any given time — sometimes it’s one mega-show and a smaller display, sometimes it’s six different presentations. For about six more months, the city’s main contemporary art museum is going with three. Contemporary Ex-votos — the de facto headliner show — pairs traditional Mexican art with works that broadly celebrate LatinX culture; In Relation combines pieces from the Barrick collection with new ones created by local artists to expand the notion of motherhood; and P0RTAL diversifies the hat trick with a showcase devoted to graphic design. As usual for the Barrick, lots of art — and lots of variety. Tue-Sat, 10a-5p; free; Marjorie Barrick Museum at UNLV; unlv.edu/ barrickmuseum.
What will become of Las Vegas’ iconic motor hotels?
BY Lissa Townsend RodgersToday, when visitors approach Las Vegas, most descend toward Harry Reid International Airport into the shimmering Vegas Valley, the glitter of the Strip heaped up in the center like a towering pile of pirate loot. But for decades, most tourists arrived in their cars, winding through the desert’s brazen sun or inky dark. The motels along the highway gradually faded into view, blooming into a series of neon-lit oases, advertising respite for weary travelers.
If they came from California, traveling north on Highway 91, they’d pass the jumbo pink elephant outside the Diamond Inn Motel and the white pillars and black shutters of the Colonial House Motel. Coming south from Utah or Oklahoma, they’d be greeted by the stardust sign of the Strip 91 Motel and Yucca Motel’s midcentury angles wrapped around the rustic Little Chapel of the Flowers. Heading in from Arizona, they’d take Boulder Highway to Fremont, sliding past the low-slung Spanish Colonial comfort of the Ambassador East Motel and the tractor-beaming flying saucer of the Orbit Inn.
“Motels were a response to the growing popularity of the automobile, which stimulated the popularity of Las Vegas as a tourist destination,” says Mitch Cohen, a Nevada Preservation Foundation board member. “Motels and the city really grew up together, and today they symbolize what the city was before the interstate, before chain hotels, before the Strip gained dominance over everything.”
Motels stand as small monuments to American culture. The world of motels was one of mom/dad/kids families like on TV and traveling businessmen like in the movies — but also the alternative cultures
found in volumes like On the Road or The Green Book, as well as on the radio stations playing as folks pulled in to check in. They’re also a catalog of twentieth-century architecture: the quaint Mission bungalows of the Monterey Motel, the fairytale cottages of the Peter Pan Motel, the streamline moderne glass blocks of the Cactus Motel, the Hollywood Regency extravagance of the Monaco Motel.
Where more than 100 motels used to line the roads leading to Las Vegas, only a few dozen remain today. But as some have tumbled into disrepair, disuse, and vacant-lot status, their signage has risen with Phoenix-from-the-ashes fire. Thus far, the city has restored and relocated 15 motel signs around central Las Vegas — the gaudy
Googie sign of the Clark Inn’s welcoming arrow now points at the Lloyd George U.S. Courthouse, while the celestial pinup girl of the Blue Angel Motel pirouettes above a car wash on Charleston Boulevard. Some have been projects of the Neon Museum and the City of Las Vegas, others the work of the Downtown Project (now DTP Companies) or under the auspices of the private/public partnership, Project Enchilada.
Such lavish signage attached to small motor courts may seem a fluke unique to Vegas, but it was common (if not as extravagant) across the nation. Before the internet, travelers usually decided where they were staying the night about 10 seconds before they pulled into the parking lot. A big hunk of sparkling neon could be a powerful draw.
Another lure for the tired desert driver: swimming pools. “You almost couldn’t have a motel without a pool,” Cohen says. “It’s 100 degrees in July; you’re going to want a pool to dip into at the end of the day. They put them in the front, too — now you wouldn’t enjoy swimming in the middle of the parking lot but back then it was an advertisement.” Indeed. How many Death Valley-weary travelers gazed longingly through the six-foot windows surrounding the Glass Pool Inn’s pool and decided to pull over and check in?
In our retro fetishist/boutique hotel era, you’d think the quaint cottages of the Gables Motel or the Southwest art deco of the Travelers Motel could find new life as posh little getaways, as in Austin or Palm Springs. But the Las Vegas motels experiencing a rebirth are those that have transformed their original purpose, such as Fergusons Downtown, a motel-turned-multiuse-center on Fremont Street. Where there once was a parking lot, there is a tiered lawn for yoga or bands. Where there were hotel rooms, there are boutiques, salons, and studios. Tori Fangman, Fergusons general manager, calls it “a compelling case study for the viability of other motels.” She adds, “Cities can breathe new life into neglected neighborhoods while preserving their architectural heritage by reimagining outdated spaces as mixed-use developments that combine commercial, residential, and cultural elements. “
The Holiday House/Fun City Motel, now the techie-oriented BLVD apartment complex, and the Safari Motel, which has become transitional housing, are among the motels that have been restored to new life. There’s an empty patch of gravel where the La Concha Motel used to be, but its Paul Revere Williams-designed lobby now serves as the lobby of the Neon Museum.
Motels rose to meet a need in a culture that was moving and changing. It makes sense they would move and change with it. Cohen supports doing “anything we can do to keep them, because they are really endangered,” he says. “We’ve seen them turned into shops, restaurants, entertainment venues, art spaces, residences. I’d like to think that motels aren’t just part of our history but could be part of our future.” ✦
Paul Summers Jr.’s memoir sets aside Vegas stardom for a focus on fatherhood
BY Mike WeatherfordLas Vegas wasn’t to blame. A native son should probably know better than to embrace Sin City clichés. But Paul Summers Jr. wrongly thought he could leave his vices behind when he surrendered his local rock-star status and moved to Oregon in 1996. Looking back today, he realizes it was addict behavior — a way of not holding himself accountable. Now 16 years sober and still based in the Port land area, the 1981 Las Vegas High grad has been reconciling parts of his past that don’t blend.
You’ve been resurrecting the music on listening platforms. As you dig back, are you happy or frustrated that you got close enough to taste success by opening shows for bigger names (Devo, The Smithereens)?
I did maybe come as close as you can without it actually happening. Putting up all the back catalog is maybe my way of saying, “So we didn’t make it. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t special to people, and didn’t mean something to all the people who showed up at all these shows all the time.” I just think there was something unique enough about that era to memorialize it.
A YouTube channel, Paul Summers Chronicles, revisits his rocker days with ’80s and ’90s bands A.W.O.L., Triple Ripple, and Cries & Whispers. And Summers’ new book, Hide and Seek — A Dad’s Journey from Soulless Addiction to Sole Custody (from The Publishing Circle imprint), is a visceral account of the early 2000s, when concerns about his toddler’s well-being motivated him to get clean of opioids and amphetamines, to the point where he was awarded sole custody of his daughter. He talked to Desert Companion about the book, and the journey that led to it.
Knowing you as a musician, I found it strange that the book skips past your Vegas era. Was it because you didn’t want to glamorize the so-called “rock ’n’ roll lifestyle”?
Partly. In the original draft, I thought it was important that I’m a musician and was probably a big fish in a small pond in the ’90s. But the book is not an autobiography, it’s a memoir. The story’s really about my connection to my daughter, and how I saved that from being severed by getting clean. And the other part is that being in recovery, I don’t want to glorify the drug-use days. I’ve already heard from some people who were addicts and read the book that it was triggering for them, those early chapters.
An old article from 1992 said there were maybe 75 bands and 15 clubs to play. Do you feel like you were part of something that will never be again?
It was so different than what it is now. As far as local original music that was edgy, we had to build our own stage. When you think of music scenes in other towns, it was all established. Vegas didn’t have that local and original music for the longest time. I feel like we came from this era that built that. It was organic, it was local, and everybody who lived in Las Vegas at that time had a part in it. I’m pretty proud of those days. The Punk Rock Museum (where Summers is represented) validates that there was something special to what we were doing back then.
Your daughter having a baby just before Christmas brings the book full circle. But it also takes the reader back to tough material. Have she and other family members read it? What does she make of scenes like the one where she’s in the car seat when you drive to meet your dealer?
You’re not the only one curious about her and understandably so. She’s had the manuscript since I finished (the first draft) a few years ago and has never read it. She says she was waiting for the official published version. My aunt was like, “This is horrifying. You need to apologize to your daughter.” And I didn’t expect that. Some behaviors you can’t apologize for. All you can do is show you’re living differently now. Every day (that) I’m living clean, I’m showing her that’s not who I am anymore. ✦
Will Las Vegas finally get the visual arts institution it deserves?
BY Scott DickensheetsIdon’t know about you, but I’m ready for a major standalone art museum in this burg — as ready as I was in the 1990s, when the Nevada Institute of Contemporary Art was trying to establish one.
As ready as I was in the early 2000s, when the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum in the Venetian tried valiantly to fill that role. As ready as I was later in the 2000s, when the Las Vegas Art Museum, led by Libby Lumpkin, was gamely angling for its own place apart from the Sahara West Library. … and in 2013, when a batch of underfunded downtownies announced the formation of the Modern Contemporary Art Musuem near the Arts Factory.
… and a few years later, when Reno’s Nevada Museum of Art proposed to build an outpost down here.
As you might guess from there being no major standalone art museum in this burg, none of those well-intended, smartly peopled efforts worked out. That’s a lot of tombstones in the graveyard of a great idea.
Now it’s time to get our hopes up again as Elaine Wynn steps into the batter’s box, swinging for the fences with a brash new project called the Las Vegas Museum of Art. The signs appear more promising this time. A billionaire, Wynn’s got the money to get the bankroll rolling, serious art cred, and the prestigious Los Angeles County Museum of Art riding shotgun. (Much to the consternation of L.A.’s cultural class: “What does L.A. get out of it? Well, nothing,” the L.A. Times art critic snarked on Facebook.)
Thus far, backers have picked out a parcel in Symphony Park, the Legislature has allotted $5 million in seed money — about 1/76th of a public baseball field subsidy — and the basics are established. Total cost: about $150 million. Size: 60,000-90,000 square feet. Proposed opening: 2028.
So, yes, unlike some (“I don’t see a museum for art as necessary for downtown,”
Oscar Goodman once said), I’m ready. Still, I trust you’ll forgive a wee bit of hard-earned wariness on the part of a guy who’s read too many obituaries of those previous efforts: I’ll believe it when I pay my first entry fee. For now, I’m mulling a few questions.
IS LAS VEGAS FINALLY READY? The resounding Yes! that has long greeted this question is what you’d expect here in the largest American city without a freestanding art museum — at least among that subset of us for whom this is an important question. So why now? Reno’s had a museum for years. Northern Nevada’s arts heritage goes back to the late 19th century, when the Comstock Lode built much of San Francisco and facilitated early cultural exchanges. By the time of Las Vegas’s postwar maturity, its civic focus was elsewhere. Our rich people with good taste in art, Elaine Wynn’s ex foremost among them, typically channeled that passion into their casinos — often to stunning effect — rather than museum-level philanthropy.
Fast-forward to 2023 and here’s Heather Harmon, the new museum’s executive director, with the upbeat framing: “There have been so many accomplishments in our city, between The Smith Center and the Sphere, the Raiders Stadium, Formula One, that the timing is right for this effort,” she told the Review-Journal. With the valley’s buzz of post-pandemic opportunity, the notion of a three-story palace of high art now seems less farfetched than before. A rising vibe lifts all boats.
Still, the paradigm-shifting develop ments Harmon cites are, with the arguable exception of The Smith Center, specta cle-grade entertainment. Art museums haven’t been immune to the pressure to keep pace with the experience economy (long-timers might recall that the Vene tian’s Guggenheim facility opened with two rooms, the larger one devoted to a
blockbuster exhibit of motorcycles) with mixed results (the Venetian closed the big room after that show).
So, when you position your museum in the company of civic bling like the Sphere, will you find yourself curating toward a similar wow factor? After all, the witchy interplay between an art object and the human eye doesn’t always benefit from the spectacle dynamic, as Museum of Modern Art director Glenn D. Lowry warned in a letter to the New York Times in 1998: “What happens to the arts when they are understood not as an end unto themselves but as either a marketing ploy ... or as urban renewal?” He was writing about the newly opened Bellagio Gallery.
But it’s also worth noting that 30 percent of the Bellagio Gallery’s early visitors had never been in an art gallery before. While I’d like to know how many of them ever went to a second gallery, it does remind us that a little razzle dazzle can have an upside.
WHAT ARE THE BENEFITS? I vividly recall visiting the Bellagio Gallery shortly after it opened and finding myself in front of my first-ever Jackson Pollock. “Frozen in place for 10 minutes as it laid its eggs in my brain,” is how I once described it. If someone had interrupted my reverie to ask why we need 90,000 square feet of this stuff, along with a few million public dollars to help it along, all I could’ve done was stammer,
But you gotta try, right? In 2018 the American Alliance for Museums reported that museums employ twice as many people as the sports industry, and that every $100 spent in a museum generates $220 elsewhere in the economy.
If any similar figures specific to the Las Vegas Museum of Art have been worked up, I haven’t seen them, though it can’t be long until motivational economist Jeremy Aguero is brought in to lacquer the whole thing in a high-gloss numerology that proves a museum will help round out our status as a major world city.
Of course, this talk of community-level benefits, however necessary to get the big players on board, will have next to nothing to do with the benefits most of us get from visiting the museum — which, surprise! , has also been quantified. In a recent study, museum visitors were asked how the experience affected their “well-being.” The study concluded that each adult visitor accrues $905 worth of “well-being benefits” per visit. Me, I’ll settle for the enchantment I felt in front of that Pollock.
DO WE REALLY NEED AN ART MUSEUM? Ten years ago, this very magazine ran a peppery essay by the late Misti Yang in which she questioned whether Las Vegas should even bother with a major standalone art museum. Does a museum’s sense of gatekeeping permanence make sense for a place so devoted to the ephemeral? Isn’t a “museum” just a vestige of other places’ outmoded idea of “culture”? As an institution, “the museum was offered in stark contrast to the festival, but Las Vegas is pure festival, and it’s worked pretty well,” Yang wrote. “Why would we want to run counter to the energies that make Las Vegas special?”
I’ll admit her argument lost traction with me when she proposed a scaled-up Burning Man ethos as an alternative — Lord save me from a city full of “Bliss Dances”! — but the years haven’t dulled its devil’s-advocate mojo. Two years ago, The Art Newspatouted the success in Las Vegas of temporary exhibits, some of them involving significant artists we might not see here otherwise — a development Yang would no doubt applaud. As it happens, The Las Vegas Museum of Art might turn out to be a more sophisticated version of that same idea. L.A.
Times art critic Christopher Knight reports that the Las Vegas Museum of Art won’t undertake one of the core functions of a museum: building a collection. Why bother, when it can access LACMA’s extensive storage vaults? But to me a permanent collection is more than just backrooms bulging with carefully preserved assets. It’s on ongoing conversation with its audience about cultural worth and lasting value.
SHOULD I MENTION THE BARRICK? On a page of hand-scrawled notes I jotted for this essay, I shouted at myself: “MENTION THE BARRICK!” That’d be UNLV’s Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art, which, while neither a standalone museum nor the sort of luxe facility that Wynn and LACMA envision, has ably served the community for years. Indeed, the Barrick came to mind a few months ago at the Palm Springs Art Museum. There I encountered for the first time in person, within a few steps of each other, pieces by Anselm Kiefer, Helen Frankenthaler, and Jesús Rafael Soto — each one a knockout.
It was a vertiginous experience that, I realized, had been underwritten in part by local institutions like the Barrick, the Rita Deanin Abbey Art Museum, and several visionary art galleries over the years in the Arts District, New Orleans Square, and local libraries. I mean, I took one art class in college and educate myself as I can, but my art appreciation was nurtured and shaped by many local institutions. “MENTION THE BARRICK!” was me reminding myself that a Las Vegas Museum of Art, however much of the spotlight it might eventually occupy, is part of a continuum of cultural efforts that will help many others arrive at the museum better prepared to grok its wonders.
Anyway: 2028 is a long way off, and everything, from the museum’s plans to the conditions of civilization itself, are subject to change in that time. And despite whatever skepticism the foregoing might suggest, when it comes to this splashy new museum, I have my fingers crossed to the breaking point. I want that conveniently available awe. More eggs, please!
And, really, I’m sure this project stands a good chance of success. If we’ve learned anything in modern Las Vegas, it’s that money can accomplish amazing things. But if, for whatever reason, it doesn’t come together, maybe we should just get ourselves a museum in the most New Vegas way possible: by taking Oakland’s. ✦
Sometimes you have to unleash your inner animal to be who you areBy Destiny Pinder-Buckley
Ilooked down at my convention badge, embarrassed by the bland information I had supplied for myself. “Destiny,” my actual name, appeared at the top, with “Zebra” in smaller type on the line below. Destiny the Zebra — who was that?
When the online reservation form asked for my “species,” I realized I had never fully considered what animal I would be if I could, although a housecat came to mind: independent, pays no rent, naps a lot, demands food. But a cat seemed so ... basic. I cold-called a friend to ask what kind of animal she thought I would be. “I don’t know, a zebra?” And so I made my first “fursona.”
As I wandered the courtyards and convention halls of Alexis Park Resort over a long weekend at the end of March, that identity felt obviously fake. Las Vegas Fur Con 2024 (LVFC) — one of dozens worldwide gatherings of what’s known as the “furry” community — had 2,141 attendees from 48 states and 12 countries, including 892 fur-suiters (people who dress in full animal costumes). I encountered anthropomorphic canines, felines, horses, dragons. I saw the Lorax disappear down a long hallway. Their chosen names were fun and creative, matching their fursuits and showing the high level of consideration that went into their alter egos.
Still, I was far from the only plain-clothed human there; statistics from the International Anthropomorphic Research Project, a research and advocacy group that also goes by the name Furscience, show that fewer than 15 percent of furries own a full fursuit, almost 50 percent own tails, and about 30 percent own accessories like ears or paws. Most attendees at least wore custom badges, illustrated and laminated depictions of their invented personas.
Alkali Bismuth, a furry personality who has been attending and hosting at conventions for decades, calls fursuiters “living, breathing works of art.” (For safety reasons, furry sources are identified by their fursona name only.) In his panel at LVFC, “So This Is Your First Fur Con,” he
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explained how “furry” is different from other fandoms. At other conventions for anime or comics, you celebrate fictional characters and worlds created by other people. At a fur con, you celebrate yourself and the power of collective imagination, which manifests not only in gatherings such as this, but in online forums and through shared art and short stories. Alkali, whose fursona is a black-footed ferret in a top hat, doesn’t fully suit up much anymore — but he still can be easily identified by his top hat.
“Furry fandom is about the idea of animals — not their reality, but what they represent in our minds,” Joe Strike writes in Furry Nation: The True Story of America’s Most Misunderstood Subculture.
I was somewhat aware of the furry community from a past relationship that introduced me to furry fiction. I loved reading the stories, enraptured by their worldbuilding, storytelling, and escapism. Eventually I talked about this fandom so much that my friends were invariably surprised to learn I wasn’t a furry myself.
So when that relationship ended, my
Critters ga-fur at Las Vegas Fur Con 2024. Attendees say they enjoy a safe place where they can be themselves.
fascination with the subculture didn’t. Now, Destiny the Zebra had come to LVFC for a crash course in what is at the furry core: community. A tall horse in a red blazer checked my badge and let me in.
MORE THAN 20 years ago, Las Vegas was the setting for one of the first mainstream mentions of the furry subculture, in an episode of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation titled “Fur and Loathing,” notorious for portraying a “furry orgy” that falsely stereotyped the fandom as sexual deviants.
The first thing to know about being a furry is that it’s all about self-identification; there is no list of criteria that must be met. You don’t need a fursuit or even a fursona, although most devise the latter as a form of personal expression and representation. It’s a simple and open concept meant to reflect the inclusivity and creative freedom
of its members; how deeply you get into it is up to you.
Some are fans of existing animal characters, like Mickey Mouse, Sonic the Hedgehog, or Fantastic Mr. Fox. However, most prefer to create their own characters for original fan art and short stories, and as unique representations of themselves.
The fandom began in the late ’70s and early ’80s alongside the rise of sci-fi and anime gatherings. The first fur con, held in 1989 in Costa Mesa, California, was attended by 65 people. But the community continued to grow with the internet, which allowed fans to roleplay in online chat rooms, share and commission furry art, and publish fiction about furry characters. Last year, the most popular fur con drew a crowd of more than 15,000.
These events, held all over the world, offer charity auctions, dance competitions, meet-and-greets, craft workshops, games, live music, comedy shows, fursuit walks, art shows, markets, and educational panels. At LVFC, I attended a talk about what to do in case of nuclear fallout, hosted by a radi-
ation safety expert wearing a hazmat suit. Despite this growth, furries are cautious about anything that could lead to further marginalization in mainstream media. When a chlorine gas attack sent 19 people to the hospital at Midwest FurFest in 2014, news reporters proved unwilling to take the event seriously. Furries themselves continued to investigate the incident, linked it to a far-right hate group, and uncovered other potential attacks, as chronicled in an episode of the Worst Year Ever podcast titled, “How the Furries Fought the Nazis and Won.”
In April, a middle school in Payson, Utah, received several bomb threats related to an anti-furry protest — rumors had spread that students were dressing up in costumes and biting or barking at others. (The school superintendent later clarified: The students wore “headbands with animal ears,” and probably didn’t call themselves “furries.”) That was just one of several “furries in schools” controversies in recent years.
In reality, almost everyone loves animals; cartoons are filled with flamboyant animal characters, children are tucked to sleep with stuffed animals, and adults cry when a dog dies in a movie. Animals market everything from cereal to sports teams, including the Aces’ rabbit mascot, Bucket$, and the Golden Knights’ Chance the Gila Monster. They appear in stories everywhere from Indigenous traditions to Aesop’s fables to the Book of Genesis. And cruelty toward animals can be an unforgivable sin — just ask South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem.
But when it comes to furries, many people are willing believe the urban myths about the community and miss the point entirely.
“I DO REGARD furry as much of a medium of art as I do a community of people.”
At a boba shop near UNLV the week after LVFC, I spoke with RoSphix, a Las Vegas furry artist and a guest of honor at LVFC 2024. They had been wary about agreeing to an interview, worried about my intentions as media. “I need to be more vocal about this to let people know that this thing exists,” they said. “But we also are like a group of marginal people who need to be able to protect ourselves from outside influence.”
Ro, who has more than 25,000 followers across several platforms, received cheers at LVFC’s opening ceremony. Normally, they work behind the scenes as a stage manager and high rigger, including for this year’s Super Bowl Halftime Show with Usher. Growing up in North Las Vegas, they got their start in the
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Katherine Gianaclis Park for the Arts, a grassroots, community arts project that hosted low-budget, experimental performances, art, and music by local artists. “That was my home,” Ro told me. “That was my college.”
Their art features anthropomorphic rodents, animals that survive on the outskirts of society. “They’re creatures who have been marginalized by humanity and nature itself and they still exist,” Ro said. That resonates with them after growing up queer and a first-generation Hispanic American from a migrant family. Their fursona is a weasel, sometimes with a big grin, sometimes staring off to the distance.
“(Vegas) is a campy town, for sure. Full of messy people who would be considered extremely eccentric if they lived anywhere else. But I do think that this is a city that has a lot of opportunity for weird people to make cultural waves,” Ro said. “I try to bring it across in my art as much as possible.” They wore a partial fursuit to LVFC, a weasel head created and given to them by another furry, a teen artist of Hispanic descent, Grapeshitz, who was excited to see an older Chicano artist in the fandom. Ro recalls their feeling the first
time they wore the head at the convention:
“Wow, I get to be who I am. I get to make all the jokes that I want to make. And I get to say the things that I want to say. And people regard me with the attention that I want to have. Suddenly everyone talks to you, and regards you, and does everything exactly the way that you would prefer them to.”
“We know they’re metaphors for ourselves,” writes author Joe Strike, “particularly parts of ourselves we might otherwise never experience.” Fursonas grant people the freedom and safety to openly express aspects that society might otherwise marginalize, such as gender identity, sexual orientation, race, and neurodivergence. This sense of refuge is no small point. According to the Furscience website, a significant percentage of fur enthusiasts identify as LGBTQ+ or report having been abused or bullied; many have had therapists blame their mental health issues on furriness rather than underlying condition, such as depression.
Ro designed this year’s convention T-shirt. Against a caricature of the Las Vegas Strip stands Ace the Coyote, one of four 2024 mascots that use local fauna to represent aspects
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of the furry community. According to the convention website, Ace represents the “duality of many furs, living one life outside the fandom and living another inside it.” (Furscience again: “Our studies indicate that 65 percent of furries say that they have told almost no one in their family about their furry interests.”) Ro wanted to depict Ace because coyotes are also outsiders, clever and resilient.
are nonprofit organizations that raise money for charities. This year, LVFC raised more than $10,000 for Las Vegas TransPride, which offers support and resources to the local trans-inclusive community. Most of the donations are raised from live auctions and portions of the merchandise sales. “I saved $800 for the cause,” I overheard another LVFC attendee say at the charity auction.
During the convention’s closing ceremony, held atop Alexis Park on a rooftop stage overlooking the Strip, it was announced that the fundraising had topped out at $9,400. Alkali, who has the booming voice of a wrestling announcer, exhorted the crowd to help reach the $10,00 mark, and passed around his signature tophat, as those in the audience opened their backpacks, fanny packs, purses, and wallets for stray bills.
This year’s was the second Las Vegas Fur Con; it grew out of other recent organizations, such as Southern Nevada Anthropomorphic Events and UNLV’s Rebel Anthropomorphic Works and Recreation (RAWR) student club. It was big enough to keep 21 DJs busy, and it was staffed by 177 volunteers, some of whom work circuits of fur cons. There was a flurry of controversy when organizers restricted participants to 21 and over (many are all-ages), but this might’ve helped draw out some older fur fans who want a child-free experience.
And an experience it was. Inside Alexis Park, I saw a friendly teal otter in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, and several fursuiters who wore “Hugs welcome!” tags and walked around with open arms. “I haven’t seen the new suit!” one person exclaimed. “Yeah, “I’m still getting used to it,” one fursuiter said of their black and white dog outfit, shyly scratching their ear. Many fursuiters dealt with the heat by placing a portable fan in the mouths of their costumes; they reminded me of astronauts. I spoke with a local couple who were planning their honeymoon around a furry convention later this year. I’m sure I’ll see them at next year’s Las Vegas Fur Con. I won’t go as Destiny the Zebra. I’ll go as myself. ✦
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CARMEN BEALS Associate Curator, Nevada Museum of Art
The thing about Nevada is, it’s big. Even someone who’s trying hard may not be able to see all of it. It’s enough of a challenge to visit all the strip malls along Charleston Boulevard, let alone all the attractions along Nevada State Highways. (Not saying that shouldn’t be a goal; it absolutely should!)
But the thing about the Focus on Nevada Photo Contest is, it helps make Nevada a little smaller. But turning the view over to photographers all around the state and inviting them to send us what they see, the contest also invites the public to be where winning photos were taken. Over the months of helping to judge entries and plan the issue, I’ve seen a meadow at Tamarack Lake, wild horses roaming near Pioche, a dancer at the Pahrump Powwow, and so much more. Without leaving my desk, I’m reminded what a culturally and naturally rich place I live in and, by extension, I feel more connected to and curious about it. To all who contributed, thank you for giving this experience to me and everyone else who gets to see Nevada through your eyes. —Heidi Kyser
GREGG CARNES Owner, Truh'st Studio
MARLIES DAEBRITZ Project Manager, Nevada Public Radio
ANNE DAVIS Assistant Editor, Desert Companion
RON PHELPS Manager, B&C Camera
CHRISTINA GHILAN Photographer/Professor, College of Southern Nevada
JEROME HAMILTON Photographer
BRENT HOLMES Artist
HEIDI KYSER Editor, Desert Companion
SCOTT LIEN Art Director, Desert Companion
HONORABLE MENTIONS
2ND PLACE
TREVOR VELLINGA
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panorama
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1ST PLACE
SCOTT MORTIMORE
Last day of autumn in the Sierra
HONORABLE MENTION
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JULIA ANTHONY
Malia Holds her Breath Effortlessly
HONORABLE MENTION
DOREEN LAWRENCE
Rose garden at Springs Preserve
Blood Moon in Valley of Fire (composite of two images taken at Valley of Fire State Park)
2nd PLACE
JANET CORREA
HONORABLE MENTION
DANIEL SANCHEZ
Levitating Man
HONORABLE MENTION
HUGH BYRNE Ref Call Reaction
HONORABLE MENTION JOSE SIMON Aliens Among Us
1ST
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2nd PLACE
DOREEN LAWRENCE
Cedar waxwing in the
HONORABLE MENTION
MARCY ALFREJD Sage at Springs Preserve
HONORABLE MENTION NICKOLAS WARNER
A very wide angle of a Joshua tree
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2ND PLACE
STANISLAV SABEV
Overcast Las Vegas
HONORABLE
HONORABLE MENTION ANDREAS M. COHRS Railroad Crossing Geometrics
N|ightlife is for the young and beautiful. It’s putting on your afterhours finest, drinking and dancing in clubs, and hooking up. But also … it’s for people over 60 and the hopelessly introverted. It’s lounging in a piano bar, or watching the Knights game at your favorite gay bar, or playing board games with your under-21 besties. Everyone has a nightlife. Here’s our look at a few ways to go out in Las Vegas that don’t involve bottle fees.
They may be past clubbing age, but these retirees still know how to have a good time out in Las VegasBY GARY DYMSKI
Diane Taylor knows something about off-Strip entertainment for locals. Since 2003, when she and her husband moved to Las Vegas from Chicago, Taylor, 82, has spent countless hours investigating and organizing outings, sometimes for friends but mostly for groups.
“One thing I noticed moving out here is that people will talk to you,” says Taylor, who writes a weekly column for the Living Las Vegas website. “These are older folks, many here without family, and they want to know what’s going on.”
Her advice to retirement-age Southern Nevadans who want to mix live entertainment with dining, dancing, and drinks: Be proactive. Reach out to a friendly face.
“Getting people to talk isn’t a problem,” she says.
We certainly didn’t have any trouble finding older folks to talk about their favorite off-Strip nightlife destinations. Here are three to get you started.
•• CATHY STRAND, 67, has lived in Las Vegas some 25 years, moving with her husband from North Dakota when their daughter joined the Air Force. When her husband died in August, Strand admitted to bouts of loneliness. Then she crossed paths with neighbor Kathy Ives, 70, “the ringleader.”
Ives and her husband had relocated from Colorado to be with their daughter more than 20 years earlier. When Ives’ husband died about 10 years ago, she too fought off loneliness.
Along with Debbie Deems, 69, who moved from Maryland in 2019 to join her daughter, Strand and Ives hit locals casino-hotels
such as Rampart, Suncoast, and Arizona Charlie’s for live music. The women live in northwest Las Vegas and are members of the Centennial Hills Active Adult Center. Their days are often filled with center activities. But their nights?
“I’m the bad one,” Ives confesses. She’s out chasing live music nearly every Friday and Saturday. Strand and Deems can’t make it out every weekend. But when the three hit the town, “We have a ball,” Deems says. Most locals hotel-casinos have small showrooms or bars with live music, Ives says. Often, the music is free, and the drinks inexpensive. Ives found her way to them after her husband’s death. Looking for things to do, she tried internet and Facebook groups. That was all it took. “So much to do, so many choices,” she says.
The three friends follow Jamit, a two-man group that delivers pop and soft rock hits from the 1970s and 1980s. One Saturday night in April, they danced to the band’s music at the Rampart until 1 a.m.
Ives’ advice: Don’t be shy. Get out there.
“This week, it was Thursday, Friday, and Saturday,” she says laughing. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
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•• IT’S A SCOUTING mission for John Verville, 51. He enjoys live music in small venues, and he’s pulled into The Composers Room in Las Vegas’ Commercial Center District for a quick drink and look-see.
“Usually, it’s the weekends for me,” Verville says, describing his regular outings. “I’m looking things over here, seeing what the place is about.”
The midweek stop at the venue, which opened in November, was prompted by Paul Gregory, a friend and longtime Southern Nevada musician. Gregory is playing in the cozy Tavern Room (seating for about 60), where nightly music is free. Later, local band Limoncello will cover mostly 1970s and ’80s rock on the larger Showroom Stage (seating about 225). Tonight, patrons listen to Limoncello free of charge. Typically, tickets for Showroom acts range from $10 to $40.
Verville grew up in Las Vegas, left for the military at 18, and returned in 2000. Since then, the security company project manager has been a regular at spots that showcase local bands. He rattles off a half-dozen spots, from the Gold Mine Tavern in Henderson to Jack’s Place Sports Bar & Grill in Boulder City.
“There’s a group of us, all friends, and we just like to be out and listen to the variety, all the different bands.”
Verville and friends mostly avoid the Strip. “Drinks are $17. Parking can be another $20,” he says. “Gets expensive. Too crowded.”
The Composers Room has possibilities, he says. It’s part neighborhood bar-part supper club, with adult beverages at $10 or less and dinner entrees ranging from $20 to $35. The focus is on locals; local entertainment for local audiences.
Verville, a fan of tribute bands that play classic rock and country, says his weekend routine depends on who’s playing and where. “You just have to do a little looking,” he says.
The Composers Room, thecomposersroom.com; Gold Mine Tavern, goldminetavern.com; Jack’s Place Sports Bar & Grill, jacksplacebc.com
•• WHEN NICK MONTANA Sr. came to Las Vegas from Utica, New York, in 1968, he missed his Italian heritage. The food, the people. “Being able to associate with the men and women of Italy,” he says.
Montana filled that cultural void in what then was a fledgling Italian American Club of Las Vegas. More than five decades later, his strongest memories of the East Sahara Avenue spot are linked to community involvement, such as a scholarship program that will spread $65,000 in awards among several Clark County college-bound students this year.
But Montana, a longtime Southern Nevada residential and com-
mercial real estate developer, also realizes the club’s draw continues to be entertainment — and history. Photographs of Strip legends who either dined or performed at the club cover its interior walls, the black-and-white images bringing the 1960s to life. Frank Sinatra and his Rat Pack sidekicks, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr., are shown in several photos. (Sinatra donated a Cadillac for a raffle that raised money to build the club, completed in 1962.) Regulars remember seeing comics Shecky Greene and Pat Cooper, and singers Louis Prima and Keely Smith.
In the old days, one of those Strip legends might have jumped from a dinner plate to hit the stage. That can happen today, too.
In March, club president Angelo Cassaro recalls, Tony Orlando joined in with a few verses after a stage act broke into one of his 1970s hits. Maybe “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree.” Or “Knock Three Times.” Cassaro’s not sure.
Comanager Ben Spano says a few years ago Frankie Valli rose from his seat when one of his Four Seasons hits was being played, joking with diners: “Hey, that’s my song.”
Montana realizes Southern Nevada is home to a range of cultural clubs but admits a personal bias to the place where he once dined with actor Chazz Palminteri, “It’s unique,” he says. “It’s the food, the ambience, the history.”
Spano books six to eight (mostly local) acts monthly, with individual show tickets priced at $65, including dinner. Membership ($250 annually) is not required. The restaurant, where most entrees cost $30 or less, is open Wednesday through Sunday.
“It’s come a long way since I first joined,” Montana says. ✦
Italian American Club Las Vegas, iacvegas.com
6a–10p, 7 days, multiple locations, blackbeardiner.com
• I’m a sucker for breakfast all day. I’m also a sucker for the romanticization of the American Frontier and the great outdoors. That’s why I’m allowing a chain restaurant on this list. Where else will the menu be printed on a black-and-white broadsheet? Diners hold a special place in American culture — probably because they’re one of few places left where you can loiter guilt-free, so long as you’ve got a full cup of coffee
The revival of pioneering club Gipsy enters a very different LGBTQ+ nightlife scene than the one it ushered in 43 years ago. But the more things change, the more they stay the same
BY MIKE PREVATTEveryone is getting ready. The bartenders have lined the bar with carafes of orange juice for maximum mimosa consumption. The dancers are rehearsing their routines on the dance floor, unperturbed by the bussers rushing around them. A buffet is being arranged, table settings finished.
Manager Chris Adams oversees it all while also giving his guest a tour of the new Gipsy, a 43-year-old institution sitting in the same Paradise Road spot, but now in a new building. He points out updated amenities such as the sushi bar (“We didn’t want the club to smell like cooked food. And it gives an upscale vibe.”) and an enormous TV screen above the bar.
•Then, he highlights the nods to history. French aesthetic touches pay tribute to the original “show kids” (that’s old Vegas code for “gay”) club, Le Cafe, that once stood just down the street on Paradise Road. Even the color scheme hearkens back to the older Gipsy, where Adams once thrilled patrons as a resident DJ.
“It’s all come full circle,” he says for the first of many times that hour.
Gipsy’s importance to Las Vegas nightlife can’t be overstated. It opened in 1981, just two years before Las Vegas first experienced both Pride and HIV/ AIDS. Another show-kids venue, Gipsy drew partygoers of all stripes because of its stakes-raising entry into the local entertainment and hospitality scenes, as well as its glamour and celebrity allure.
“There was more of a sense of being
out and open at Gipsy, which you really didn’t feel you could be in any of the other bars,” says local historian Dennis McBride, who patronized Gipsy in its earliest days and chronicled the history of the local LGBTQ+ scene in his book, Out of the Neon Closet: Queer Community in the Silver State.
“So, it was sort of the opening of the gay community in Las Vegas, because (Gipsy) was very well known in the straight community.”
Beyond its functionality and status as a community hub, what set it apart was how it allowed multiple generations of queer Las Vegans to come of age. And like so many other LGBTQ+ nightspots across the country, it was also where queer Las Vegas sought refuge from a very homophobic social environment, largely brought on by the moral-majority conservatism of the 1980s.
“Going to Gipsy was like stepping out of the closet for me,” McBride says. “And it was just a brighter and more welcoming space than had ever really existed in Las Vegas before for gay people. So, that’s partly why I enjoyed going there, because I could dance. I could do lots of other things. It just was a sense of nascent freedom in being gay.”
But it wasn’t always smooth sailing for the nightspot, which would become the anchor for Las Vegas’ unofficial gay district, or “Fruit Loop,” at Paradise Road and Naples Drive. Between ar son, sting operations by police to out
I’m no dive bar expert, but I basically grew up in one. My dad owned a bar that might’ve earned that honorific had it been in a larger city with fancier joints to judge it against. It had all the makings of what we call a dive bar today: no frills, no froufrou drinks, cheap shots with beer or — in the case of the very cheapest — pickle juice chasers. As an adult in Las Vegas, I’ve spent my fair share of time at the Huntridge Tavern, Double Down Saloon, Moon Doggie’s and the city’s other classic dives. Here’s what they all have in common.
— Joe Schoenmann
• The cigarette smoke’s so thick you may not be able to see to the other side of the bar.
• There’s at least one sticky spot on the floor.
• Newer bartenders know you by your drink: “You’re the shot of Jamo and PBR?” Veterans have it on the bar before you sit down.
• Tips may add up to more than tabs, which are rarely over $40.
• If you’re there during daylight, you can spot the cobwebs every time someone opens the door.
• It’s the opposite of seeand-be-seen — come-asyou-are-and-check-outno-one.
(Supposedly) having sex in the bathroom is as legendary as on airplanes.
• The liquor license dates back decades, and the lease probably does, too.
• A lawyer might strike up a conversation with a housekeeper; a schoolteacher with a Strip executive. Everyone’s at home here.
and arrest patrons, ownership changes, and legal episodes, there was never a dull moment. Competition both within the gay community and outside of it in the 2010s meant steadily decreasing patronage, and in 2020, the initial Gipsy nightclub met the wrecking ball.
It makes perfect sense that Gipsy would come full circle and be reborn. Its story fits into the general rhythm of Las Vegas queer nightlife — its people, places, and parties come and go, and sometimes they return. (To wit: Flex Cocktail Lounge relocated from west of Downtown to just southeast of it, and the recently shuttered Charlie’s Las Vegas has hinted at reappearing in a new location.)
And while it finds itself in a drastically different nightlife scene than it did 20 years ago, much less 43 years ago, Gipsy has learned from previous trials. For one, it’s embracing versatility — it’s a hangout, dance space, dining spot, and elegant meeting room for community organizations (as it was in the early 1980s). And it doesn’t seem to heed the narrative that dating/ hookup apps like Grindr encourage people to cruise at home. Like many gay spaces, it’s betting on patrons’ desire to gather and share experiences in person.
And if there’s one safe bet Gipsy is going all-in on, it’s drag. “I think that drag plays a crucial part in queer culture, because it has been an integral part of our history — drag queens, drag kings, and performance in general,” says Julián Delgado Lopera, a Shearing Fellow at UNLV’s Black Mountain Institute and cofounder of Drag Queen Story Hour. Like so many locals, Lopera has gone to local queer spots to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race. The 15-year-old reality TV show has not only been a cultural groundbreaker, it’s also helped bring more people to LGBTQ+ bars and clubs across the country by having watch parties and/or booking the show’s stars to perform.
Adams says Gipsy is booking a lot of drag performers and “bringing in almost every RuPaul’s Drag Race (performer) there is.” This is evident on both the venue’s latenight and brunch calendars. For the latter: Gipsy has installed a roll-up glass overhead door to allow indoor/outdoor brunching and revelry, not unlike the setup at Miami Beach’s renowned Palace Bar (which is ironic, as former owner Paul San Filipo dismantled the venue’s infamous South Beach-themed rebranding by the TV show Bar Rescue in 2013.) And then there’s the giant TV, which Adams says is largely for
A guide to social fun for under-21 Las
8a–10p, 7 days/week, 5808 Spring Mountain Rd #104, gabicoffee.com
On a hot summer day, I reclined ’neath a cottonwood tree, wanting for mirth and whimsy. In the hazy plane between awake and asleep a stray gust whispered into my ear, “Gaaaabbiiii...” An ivy vine beckoned, and I followed it to a strip mall on Spring Mountain Road. There, a large wooden door with iron bracings — I opened it and stepped into a wonderland. An eclectic arrangement of chairs and tables ’round the perimeter, greenhouse in the center, delectable confections and refreshing lattes on the menu. And best of all: Korean lessons over the restroom speakers. Bliss is mine! – EDV
24/7, 8470 W Desert Inn Rd, madhouse.coffee
• This is the only place on this list that’s open 24 hours, and it’s got a name to match. Many scrambled nights on deadline have been spent in the MadHouse. Among its most striking features is the prominent display of artwork from provocateur Recycled Propaganda, whose pieces are literal, yet poignant, com mentaries on politics, human behavior, and social dynamics. It reminds us of what The Cafe was meant to be from the beginning: a place for reflection, innovation, and conver sation. – EDV
the Drag Race viewings.
Funny thing about televisions: They’re almost as important to queer bars as drag queens. Once used for ambiance, be it music videos or, in some cities, gay adult films, they’re now central to making bars the “third place” of the LGBTQ+ community. At the Garage, which is one of the few local gay spots where one can watch sports, you might swivel your head back and forth watching half the bar cheer on the Vegas Golden Knights and the other half screaming at a new Drag Race episode. The Phoenix — the only LGBTQ+-centric bar left west of I-15 — also airs both Drag Race and Golden Knights games, and even allows videogame play on one big screen.
The more queer nightlife evolves, the wider a net proprietors must. Kitchens help; both the Garage and the Phoenix have them, as well as various gaming offerings (for gambling and non-gambling activities). Over at the new Bent Inn & Pub in Downtown, a permanent food truck serves up grub for both patrons in the bar and those renting its rooms and using its pool — making it Vegas’ first all-queer (and queer-owned) resort. Another new Downtown LGBTQ+ bar, The Queen, which also hosts a nightclub named Qarma, offers both general and brunch menus.
If Gipsy holds the key to queer nightlife’s past and present, Downtown is its future. Where many LGBTQ+ gathering spots hew closely to traditional gay nightlife conventions — and are largely patronized by gay cisgender men — places like Oddfellows, Cheapshot, and Bent beckon a more diverse and expressive clientele. On a recent weekend night, more than half of Bent’s customers were lesbians. The Backdoor has long catered to Latinx revellers. And promoter Bodywork — whose parties are currently held at Cheapshot, as well as Area15 just west of the Strip — celebrates self-expression, authenticity, and “the intersection of queer and counterculture.” Lopera, who moved here from San Francisco, is accustomed to going to LGBTQ+ spots that prioritized art and literary events. “There’s so much in queer culture that it doesn’t have to be one thing,” they say.
Also catering to the full spectrum of LGBTQ+ folx — and those who want more from their hangouts — is the nearby Phoe nix. “There (are) lots of trans women and people from a lot of different ethnicities … it feels very queer and very gay,” Lopera says.
“If I feel trans people are around, I’ll feel safer going to the bathroom … Definitely the reason I go to gay bars is because I want to feel safer. And more relaxed. The Phoenix gives me that.”
Commentary on the state of American gay bars often asks if LGBTQ+ people need them anymore — given the cultural and political victories the community has amassed over the last couple decades — or presumes a high level of LGBTQ+ assimilation into American society. This point of view doesn’t take into account the current sociopolitical climate in smaller cities and conservative states, or the discrimination and violence that BIPOC and trans/nonbinary members of the community continually face. The more things change, the more they stay the same. The gay bar was necessary for Dennis McBride when he helped break in Gipsy in the 1980s, and it’s still necessary for Lopera in 2024.
“I came into my queerness through the bar,” Lopera says. “I’m a trans guy and very flamboyant. The public space is very hard for queer people and if you’re gender-different. So the queer bar offers a deep freedom on what we wear and how we act. I have to police myself less, because people there are like me or part of the queer community. It feels like an alternative world, where it feels more free.” ✦
In my 30s, ‘going out’ has been replaced by ‘getting away’
BY PAUL BOGER“I need to get away for a few days,” my wife says as she drops her purse and keys on the couch — the garage door slamming shut behind her. She’s frazzled. Her job seems more demanding by the day, a common malady in today’s world. I can see she needs to decompress. Frankly, I do, too. For weeks — months — I have felt the walls closing in … We moved into a new house late last summer. It’s lovely, a palatial estate compared
Noon-11p M-Sat, noon–7p Sun, 4704 W Sahara Ave, meepleville.com
•If your pandemic hobby of choice was board games, and your shelf is now precariously full, then it may be time to consider outsourcing the playing field. Meepleville welcomes all with its relaxed vibe, offering all manner of board games for perusal and enjoyment. For a nominal entry fee ($10), one can stay and play for as long as their heart desires. Memberships are available as well. Play old favorites, explore new games, and should someone fall in love with something, they can take it home; Meepleville also sells games — along with drinks and food in the cafe. – EDV
10a-9p Sun-Th, 10a-10p F-Sat, 4925 Las Vegas Blvd S, pinballmuseum.org
• Part museum, part arcade, all fun, the Pinball Hall of Fame is a Las Vegas treasure. Housed in a gargantuan facility are state-of-the art pinball machines alongside classic machines from the midcentury, as well as ’80s arcade games and more advanced challenges. My favorite is the Vegas-themed pinball game featuring a blonde bombshell poker dealer in the artwork. The environment is eerily similar to an overstimulating casino floor, but at least there’s no pretense here of making your money back. And if you’re lucky enough, you might see a few cats roaming around. – EDV A guide to social fun for under-21 Las Vegans
to our old place, but at the top of our price range. I’m not complaining, but we’ve had to cut costs where we can. Gone are the bar tabs and obligatory rideshares. Evenings spent at the stadium watching AAA baseball or going to shows are now rare. The thought of skipping town for a night or two is downright scandalous.
To be honest, I’m okay with that. At one point, the thought of living a quiet, suburban life would have depressed me. I was terrified the walls of domesticity that confined my parents would someday imprison me. I wanted to be cool and interesting, part of the “it” crowd, to live a life filled with dinner parties and nights out on the town with friends. So, I played the part.
In my 20s, I went to bars and drank too much. I went to clubs and subjected myself to sensory overload. Bad karaoke nights were made worse with my off-key Bon Jovi. Late-night road trips with diners and fast food turned my lead-lined stomach into a vat of acid. It was fun in the moment … kind of. But it was also an expensive way to pass the time — a brief respite from my self-doubts and neurosis.
I’d wake up broke, with nothing to show for it but another inch on the waistline and crow’s feet around the eyes. I’d convince myself that next time would be different. I would finally be having the time of my life.
Now, in my 30s, the mere thought of staying out past 8:30 p.m. is enough to make me need a nap.
•• THE SHIFT OCCURRED during the pandemic, when I was among those who hunkered down and embraced my inner hermit. During the lockdown, when bars and restaurants were closed, I realized how little I missed them. Don’t get me wrong; I missed my friends, family, and old routine. What I didn’t miss was everything else.
It was the first time in my memory that I was openly encouraged to stay home and avoid other people. My wife’s and my 950-square-foot house became my world. I took up gardening. I committed to making my yard the nicest one on the block. Plants adorned every shelf inside. A pottery wheel took over the dining area. For some reason, my wife and I got really into home canning. Who doesn’t like apple butter and pickles for Christmas, right?
Slowly, the pandemic’s so-called “new normal” transitioned back to the old normal. For most of us, daily life today is no different than four years ago. But it feels different to me. I don’t want to be among the crowd anymore.
I was on the Las Vegas Strip not too long ago. I didn’t mean to be there. I took a wrong turn and decided to go with it. Even from the safety of my car, I could feel the anger and panic well up as I watched waves of people crash into each other, every person for themselves, clawing their way up and down the boulevard. The resorts’ towers and lights further added to my confusion and overstimulation. I decided against further exploration.
It’s not like I don’t do anything anymore. My wife and I still like to have nights out. We’ll go to dinner, maybe catch a ballgame, or go see a play at a local black box. But more and more, “going out” means leaving that world altogether.
•• IT’S BEEN UNSEASONABLY cool in Reno. Searching for higher temperatures, my wife and I headed four hours southeast toward Silver Peak. As I predicted, it’s a touch too cold for camping. Snow is still clinging to nearby summits, but the wind is calm by Nevada standards. When there is a breeze, it moves through the pinyon pine and juniper and into a nearby valley of cholla.
Little did we know that the flat spot we
chose in a remote valley was once a popular place for cattle to rest (read: defecate). It’s since been claimed by mosquitoes the size of dimes. Every time I leave the tent, I become a smorgasbord; my arms, legs, and face are dotted with tell-tale signs of the bloodsuckers’ feast.
Our campsite is on the eastern side of the valley, and the sun is slow to climb the ridge. Maybe that’s why the deer doesn’t see us in the morning. The dogs see her, though, and give chase. They return with nothing to show for it but a spring in their step. Later, I help my wife cook dinner and clean up. We watch the moon rise as the sun fades, debating whether the cloying smell of citronella actually works or is a placebo.
On the way home, we stop to eat turkey sandwiches at a spot overlooking Walker Lake. It’s a boring drive back to what some would call a boring life, but I feel content. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy with what I have and who I am.
My wife and I talk about owning a little piece of land north of town, away from everyone else. We’ll have chickens and a couple of goats. I threaten to buy a cow and name it Moo-lissa. Our plans don’t include talk about bars or ballgames; instead, we discuss how far we’ll be from the grocery store and hospital. But it would be nice if it was close enough to the city that we could still catch a show … every now and again. ✦
Cathedral Gorge State Park
BY Alan GegaxCathedral Gorge is arguably Nevada’s most fun state park. Along a cliff face measuring less than a mile in length, dozens of lengthy slot canyons are carved like hallways into the soft bentonite clay. Each one twists and turns and climbs and dives in unique and unpredictable ways, splitting and branching as they probe deeper into the ever-eroding landscape.
The park is suitable for a day trip from Las Vegas. There are only a couple historical ruins and markers, and the main passages can be explored in an hour. However, those passages are only the tip of the iceberg. More adventurous hikers and climbers can spend days crawling through these picturesque formations and still not see every passage the park has to offer.
Within easy walking distance from the slot canyons is Cathedral Gorge’s excellent campsite, which features flushing toilets and hot showers. Sites are comfortably spaced and have trees and awnings that provide much-needed shade for summer campouts. At night, the stars are second to none. ✦
Getting there: From Las Vegas, take I-15 north approximately 20 miles. At the Apex landfill, head northeast (left) on US-93 toward Ely. You’ll stay on that highway for about 140 miles until you reach Cathedral Gorge, less than three miles past Panaca.
Inside the park, start from the marked parking lot and walk into the biggest passage heading into the cliff. Once in among the slots, hang a left and look for the cave at the end of the path. The trail continues through the cave, which is large enough to
comfortably crawl through.
If you’re uneasy in tight spaces, let your hiking companion go first.
Pro tip:
Cathedral Gorge can be visited in all seasons, thanks to the cooling, cave-like atmosphere inside the slots. However, during rains, the bentonite clay turns into very slick mud that can get extremely messy. In the event of wet weather, check out nearby Kershaw-Ryan State Park instead.
More info: parks.nv.gov/ parks/cathedralgorge
SEE THIS episode of “Outdoor Nevada,” by Vegas PBS.
