‘Cowboy’ Collins shoots from hip

It was 5 o'clock somewhere, and former Clark County Commissioner Tom Collins was holed up in his home office drinking a can of Coors Light and fielding calls from well-wishers and bull brokers.

With a lip bulging with Copenhagen, and a bottle of Pendleton whiskey nearby in case of snakebite, Collins embarked on a rambling 90-minute interview that covered everything from politics to his parents, his personal finances to the price of bucking bulls. He spat epithets and tobacco juice in equal measure as he reminisced about his often tumultuous time as the unabashed cowboy on the Clark County Commission.

He hadn't been a commissioner for a week, but he was still helping to get things done. Just ask Las Vegas City Councilman Steve Ross, a former ally who'd been planning a strong run at the term-limited Collins' commission seat. Collins cut off Ross at the pass by resigning Aug. 10, a move that helped seal the deal for his friend and fellow Democrat, former Assembly Speaker Marilyn Kirkpatrick to receive a gubernatorial appointment as his replacement. Ross has banked six figures and has already generated signage for his commission run, but now he'll have to run against an experienced and highly respected incumbent in Kirkpatrick.

"Marilyn was obviously in line for that for some time," said Collins, also a former state Assemblyman, North Las Vegas planning commissioner, and Clark County Democratic Party Chairman. "She was a great choice. ... I helped Ross get elected (to the City Council) when nobody would touch him. You always hope you can work with the ones you help get elected. Sometimes you can't."

As for the speculation surrounding his sudden departure, he said there was little mystery. His 84-year-old mother Loretta Eichelberger recently moved back in with him. His 88-year-old father, Tom Collins Sr., is "on his cane" in Texas.

But it's also true Collins was increasingly frustrated by some of his fellow commissioners and various department heads, including County Manager Don Burnette. His frustration boiled over during the county's recent decision to vote to close the Roos-N-More animal park, and Collins wasn't shy about expressing his anger. But it wasn't just Burnette's decision to block him from the county's email system after the latest fusillade of epithet-laced memos associated with the animal control department that pushed Collins out the door.

He laughed, spat into a nearby waste basket, and drank his beer.

"I've been sending those profane f---ing emails my entire life, especially at the County Commission," he said. "We had the issue of the zoo. I'm the only on who voted to keep the thing open. They're getting inundated with emails and phone calls about what ass----- they are. How do you deflect that? You throw out a f---ing email that says I've been blocked from the county email."

Collins has been a hard-partying cowboy and brawler most of his life. He's generated headlines and headaches for himself by failing to keep his wilder side reined. There's no question some of his personal and political wounds are self-inflicted.

But it's also true that, as a longtime local boy, he had a perspective on the community and the county that many of his colleagues could benefit from. He understood better than many how rapid growth overwhelmed locals in his district and throughout rural Clark County.

The county doesn't always play by its own rules, Collins said, adding, "They use their interpretation of the law to f--- with people."

He was clearly proud of standing up for those people, some of them neighbors, against what he described as the county's little tyrannies in dealing with little people.

At 65, Collins still chases rodeos and is in the process of selling four rodeo bulls, he said. Two of them buck pretty good, he added, laughing. Having spent decades as an organized labor loyalist and Democratic campaign mechanic, he's also experienced at pitching political bull.

Although he sounded less than enthusiastic about a run for North Las Vegas mayor against incumbent John Lee, just weeks ago Collins held a well-attended and thinly veiled fundraiser.

A friend and admirer of the late "Cowboy Sheriff" Ralph Lamb — during the interview Collins proudly displayed the lawman's briefcase gifted to him by the Lamb family — Clark County's "cowboy commissioner" said he's happy to be able to retire and spend more time with his horse. It's company he appears to prefer these days to some of his former colleagues.

In the other room, a rerun of "The Big Valley" was finishing on television. He said he planned to take his mother to dinner later, and have another Coors Light sooner.

Maybe Collins will decide to run for another office. Or just maybe Clark County's last cowboy commissioner will cinch it up and ride into the sunset while he still sits tall in the saddle.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. He can be reached at 702-383-0295 or jsmith@reviewjournal.com. On Twitter: @jlnevadasmith