Notable Las Vegans share the meaning behind their desks

A humble theory: Our desks, our offices, the places in which we spend our workdays reveal much about who we are.

To test our theory -- and, yeah, because we're just generally nosy -- we asked a few notable Southern Nevadans to tell us what their desks and offices say about them.

Here's the lowdown.

CAROLE FISHER CEO OF NATHAN ADELSON HOSPICE

Some chief executive officers subscribe to the notion that their offices should provide them with a sort of home court advantage through touches -- imposing desks and such -- designed to intimidate visitors.

Carole Fisher, CEO and president of Nathan Adelson Hospice, isn't one of those CEOs.

"I think if you were to walk into my office and you'd never been here, you'd find it very inviting," Fisher says. "I think it's very important to have an environment that's conducive to feeling peaceful and feeling good."

On a recent morning, her desk held a sheaf of documents relating to the hospice, articles from professional publications, a catalog of "cute shoes for my granddaughter" and, Fisher says, "some things to try and keep me serene."

Count in the latter category a mug featuring the word "Faith" and a memo pad offering the advice, "Keep calm and carry on."

And, there's the jar of lavender aromatherapy lotion created for the hospice's Bonnie Schreck Memorial Comfort Care Program.

"I swear by this stuff," Fisher says. "It's great, very calming. When I have a challenging conversation on the phone, I grab it and rub it on my hand."

Also serving as items of decor in Fisher's office are such personal touches as a drawing from her granddaughter, family photos and, in a desk drawer, pens, coloring books and other goodies for employees' children.

"I think it's very important that, in all the offices here and our patient rooms, it's a very inviting, comfortable, soothing atmosphere, and it's very strategic on our part," Fisher says.

"But I've got to tell you, it's also for me. I'm in my office quite a bit -- it's my home away from home -- and I think it's important that I feel comfortable in my office. And I like reminding myself why I work so hard, so pictures of my family are very important to me."

H. LEE BARNES NOVELIST AND PROFESSOR

H. Lee Barnes' home office is as orderly as you'd expect from an Army Special Forces veteran and former law enforcement officer who now makes a living in the disciplined craft of writing.

Barnes, a novelist and English and creative writing professor at the College of Southern Nevada, finds that there, and not his college office, is his best place to write.

"In fact, I set up my (home) office so that at one end is a captain's desk where I do bills and take care of that type of business," Barnes says. At the other side of the room is Barnes' writing desk, which is equipped with a desktop computer ("I'm not one of those people who can work on a laptop"), printer and whatever research books he happens to be using.

Still, Barnes jokes that his desk and office probably would tell a visitor that "I'm constantly working in a state of re-disorganization."

Barnes' office also is the home of a few mementos and plaques from his military days, black belt certificates and trophies from tae kwon do tournaments. But it is, most of all, Barnes says, "a room devoted to my work."

"I think my approach to writing is that it is work, and that you have to put a particular ethic into it," he explains.

Barnes knows of writers who "have this strange idea that ... 'All I need is time away. If I could get up in the mountains, I could write my book.' And if I go to the mountain or the desert, the last thing I could do there is write.

"All you need is a keyboard and a bare wall to write in. In fact, you're better off because there are less distractions."

Barnes -- who also is lead faculty member of the college's creative writing program -- also has equipped his office, deliberately or not, with a nice "accessory": his dog, Angel.

"She's got a little bed right next to the computer so she can lie down," Barnes says. "She'll just lie there when I'm working."

OSCAR GOODMAN LAS VEGAS MAYOR

Oscar Goodman's office tells you -- or, rather, screams at you in tones King Kong would employ if he were on the receiving end of an atomic wedgie -- that Las Vegas' mayor is no shrinking violet.

But you already knew that.

Beyond the doorway, just past the "Welcome to Fabulous Mayor Goodman's Office" sign, is a horseshoe-shaped desk upon which is piled all sorts of mementos and around which is situated even more mementos.

"I get gifts all the time from people, and some end up on the desk or become part of my desk," Goodman explains. "Others go into various bookshelves around the room.

"When people come in, they get a kick out of it. They say, 'I've never seen an office like this in my life.' "

"My desk fits my personality," Goodman adds. "It's sort of a bombastic desk."

But look a bit more closely, and you'll see, positioned behind the desk, numerous photos of Goodman's family. "My family are the most important things in my life," Goodman says.

On the desk, you'll also find a copy of the Old Testament "covered with a beautiful silver cover with semiprecious jewels on it," Goodman says. "That was given to me when I was younger. That has traveled around with me.

"Of all the things on the desk that youngsters look at, they always want to look in the Bible, because it's read the opposite way, from right to left instead of left to right. So, they're fascinated."

What items would Goodman grab if the fire alarm were to suddenly go off?

"The cash. Probably the cash," he answers, laughing. "The booze. And a picture of my wife."

DON LOGAN PRESIDENT OF THE LAS VEGAS 51S

Don Logan, president and general manager of the Las Vegas 51s, says the first thing we'd learn by walking into his office is that "I'm a baseball guy."

Obviously. Logan's clean, uncluttered office features a desk bearing the usual business tools -- computer, Rolodex, notepads -- you'd find on any executive's desk.

But glance at the walls and around the room, and you'll see a sizable and varied collection of baseball-oriented photos and keepsakes.

There's a Willie Mays baseball and a John Kruk bat. A photo of Logan at the former Pacific Bell Park during the 2002 World Series. A Toronto Blue Jays jersey bearing Logan's name (the 51s are the Blue Jays' Triple-A affiliate). A bobblehead of hometown hero Greg Maddux.

Look around some more, and you'll also see that Logan is a guy who appreciates his family and friends. There's art by his now-college-age daughter, including a drawing she did way back in sixth grade, and photos of his wife, nieces, nephews, mom and dad, and other relatives, as well as a roster of friends and associates that includes Tommy Lasorda and Manny Cortez.

Which items would he grab if a fire were to threaten his office? Logan laughs.

"Good thing this place is made out of stucco and metal," he jokes. "I don't have to worry too much about that."

FFOLLIOTT "FLUFF" LECOQUE COMPANY MANAGER OF "JUBILEE!"

Ffolliott "Fluff" LeCoque's undersized office is, in many ways, just like the office of any other manager in any other business in town.

She has a too-small desk -- co-workers sit at two more -- that holds piles of paperwork, and a computer, and a copier and a fax machine, and file cabinets, and chairs for employees to sit on during daily meetings.

"It's pretty crowded," LeCoque says.

But it's the photos on the wall -- and, maybe, the office attire her employees might wear to meetings -- that separate LeCoque's job from the rest.

LeCoque is company manager of "Jubilee!" the long-running show at Bally's, and the wall displays photos of many of the show's current cast members.

LeCoque is, herself, a former dancer whose job now is to serve as de facto den mother to the show's 85-member cast. She has been with "Jubilee!" since it opened in 1981 and has, over the years, collected many more bits of potential office decor -- photos, mementos, awards -- than she could possibly display.

"There's no room," she explains. "I have lots of pictures, and they're all stashed away someplace. And some of that stuff has gone into the archives already."

But, LeCoque's desk does have one accessory that she has kept "for many, many years."

"I used to walk in on the girls sometimes. They would be in their dressing room and I'd catch them saying things or whatever that they didn't want me to hear," she explains.

So, one Christmas, the dancers gave LeCoque a fireman's helmet equipped with a light and battery-operated siren.

"It's called the 'Fluff Alert,' " she says, laughing, "and whenever I was on my way into the dressing room, I was supposed to turn that on."