Staff, customer-driven philosophy kept Sahara standing

The Sahara was a few hours from closing for good, and for a moment I thought I wanted to take one last look at the place that once boasted the Strip's tallest high-rise, Rickles in the Casbar Lounge, and Liberace in the Congo showroom.

Elvis left the building half a century ago. Everyone else got the shove on Monday. Built in 1952, through the decades the Sahara had undergone more face-lifts than the Gabor sisters. In the end, it was like most Strip resorts of its generation that looked foolish trying to keep up with the younger crowd: a mishmash of Moroccan clichés, upgrades that only turned its layout into a maze and a silenced roller coaster ride to nowhere.

Admit it. You've wondered how it lasted this long.

Milton Prell was proud of his jewel of the desert back in '52, and Del Webb kept it on the map, but the Sahara ended up a care-worn neon oasis at the wrong end of the Boulevard. By closing time it was a broken-down, brick-and-mortar mare with a braided tail and mane. Its architectural swayback was unmistakable.

I've spent recent years lamenting the loss of the Sahara at the annual reunion of its incredibly loyal employees, folks who were proud to wear their old dealers black-and-whites and waitress uniforms to the gathering to honor the place that gave them more than a toke envelope. It gave them a sense of family as well.

That's what most of the corporate titans and snarky hipsters don't get about the Sahara and its Strip sisters lost to the ravages of time, revisionist history and strategically placed explosives. Time was these jumping joints were the green-felt assembly lines in the hippest factory town in the U.S.A.

I'll never forget Blair Willey, his bow tie askew as if he'd just come off shift, looking good in his Sahara uniform tailored right down to his green apron. After a half century on casino floors, an oxygen bottle assisted his breathing. But when it came time to describing his Sahara tenure, he was a kid again.

"You'd go to work, and everyone was dressed fit to kill," Willey said. "Women wore their minks. Men wore tuxes. Movie stars came in. I was in ga-ga land. You'd say, 'Holy cow. What kind of place is this?' "

It was a place that once captured the imaginations of a generation of Vegas visitors who had no Caesars Palace to compare with it. When opulent Caesars opened in 1966 with the financial muscle of the Teamsters Central States Pension Fund, the collective attention turned south and the Sahara might as well have been a million miles from the action.

But even the second, third and fourth best joints conjured magic on the Strip in the time before the mega resorts. The Sahara grabbed its share of customers who loved Rickles and the incomparable '60s cool found at Don the Beachcomber.

Steubenville, Ohio-born dice dealer Mike Gnatovich was on the scene and raking the green. In two employment stints covering 11 years, he saw the famous and the infamous at his table and in the crowd, but it wasn't the celebrities he'll remember most. It was the camaraderie created from a casino management that understood the relationship between the employee and the customer.

"We were treated with dignity," Gnatovich said. "Because we were treated with dignity, we passed that on to the customers. ... It was the best time of my life."

Remember that the next time you hear some casino billionaire whining about tip sharing or watch as a wrinkle in the economy results in a large layoff at a corporate mega resort. The Sahara wasn't perfect by any stretch, but some of its managers were onto something when it came to the business.

A favorite old Sahara casino boss used to tell Gnatovich: " 'Just be kind to the customers, and they'll come back.' That's what it was all about, customer service."

Now you know how the rickety old Sahara lasted as long as it did. It was kept standing by the family of workers who were proud to call it home.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 338-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith.