CHURCH OF TWAIN: When the mob ran the town

  Longtime locals have heard the line a million times. They’ve likely uttered the remark themselves more often than they can count.

  “Las Vegas was better when the mob ran the town.”

  The mere utterance of the words conjures neon soaked images of dark suits and sequined gowns, of Rat Pack soundtracks and guys with colorful nicknames who talked out of the sides of their mouths. That line speaks of an era, not so long in the past, when transplanted racketeers and hoodlums got their big second chance as legitimate casino employees and operators in Nevada, which until the late 1970s was America’s great gambling island set on a sea of Mojave sand.

  It also connotes something akin to a green-felt version of “Mayberry R.F.D.” with the cast of guys and dolls stealing scenes and cracking wise. For some older Las Vegans who enjoyed the power of the pencil and the run of the house, the town probably was better when the mob ran it.

  But the mob, however it is defined, didn’t do much for minorities in this community. Las Vegas was so backward it became known as the “Mississippi of the West.” Well into the 1970s, when moderately progressive communities had embraced the social advances and legal mandates of the Civil Rights era, Las Vegas was faking it in all its polyester grandeur. To this day we still fight the old ghosts of our segregated past, which is why the recent closure of F Street is such a significant event and news story in 2008.

  There’s another element of that statement that supposes we have actually advanced a great deal since the days when the mob types proliferated Sin City. There is a belief, which can be defended, that the old-schoolers didn’t “sweat the money” like the MBA-holding corporate casino bosses. They were more inclined to sell food and drink as loss leaders to encourage traffic and play at the gaming tables. They understood well the heart of the gambler and knew that if they could keep the gambler comfortable they would own his heart.

  In the modern era, casino marketing executives calculate anticipated rates of play at the tables before daring to grant more than a handshake to a customer. And yet, I’d argue the pressure those employees are under makes them more ruthless than their predecessors. Produce or get packing is the mantra of the mega-resorts. Look no further than the details of the story of high roller “Omar” Siddiqui, now indicted for bilking Fry’s Electronics vendors out of $65 million and laundering it in Las Vegas to pay his gambling debts, for clues about the ruthless and relentless credit activities at some casinos.

  So where does that leave us? With nostalgia for old characters? With respect for new corporate efficiency? Yes, certainly.

  But the lesson is that, while the styles have changed, the character of man has not. There are many ways to act like a racketeer these days. It can be argued that the titans of gaming’s modern era are as ruthless as their forefathers ever dreamed of being.

  Our Saint Mark of Missouri gambled mostly on inventions that, like the roulette wheel and dice table, drained his fortune over time. But he knew well the character of his species.

  He wrote, “It is not worthwhile to try to keep history from repeating itself, for man’s character will always make the preventing of the repetitions impossible. Whenever man makes a large stride in material prosperity and progress he is sure to think that ‘he’ has progressed; whereas he has not advanced an inch; nothing has progressed but his circumstances. He stands where he stood before. He knows more than his forebears knew but his intellect is no better than theirs. Riches and education are not a permanent possession; they will pass away, as in the case of Rome and Greece and Egypt and Babylon; and a moral and mental midnight will follow – with a dull, long sleep and a slow reawakening. From time to time he makes what looks like a change in his character but it is not a real change; and it is only transitory anyway.”

  So, reminisce about Runyonesque characters. Or embrace the starched standards of the corporate casino era.

  But, remember, the hearts of men have not changed.