Deal with the ‘Devil’

Melissa Schorr

Sunday, Oct. 25, 1998 | 9:37 a.m.

Have we all sold our souls to the devil -- or, more specifically, to Mirage Resorts, International Game Technology and the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority?

Hal Rothman thinks we may have -- not that there's anything wrong with that.

In his latest book, "Devil's Bargains: Tourism in the Twentieth-Century American West," the UNLV history professor argues that becoming a "destination" city can be a double-edged sword, examining how communities as diverse as Aspen, Maui, Sante Fe and Las Vegas have all made trade-offs in return for the lucrative tourist dollar.

"It's not that I'm saying tourism is a bad thing, but it's something people go into with their eyes closed," Rothman explains from his office on the UNLV campus. "People all across the West think tourism will 'save' everybody, that it's a 'panacea,' but you end up marketing your identity, and it doesn't inherently solve the (economic) problems."

Rothman, who has published several books on the environment and the history of the West, and edits a journal called Environmental History, has been mulling the issue since his first job, working for the National Park Service, exposed him to how locals are effected by tourism.

He says he hopes this book, which has already sold out its initial press run, will encourage readers to think about the ramifications of these decisions. "I'm saying, open your eyes, see what you care (for) about your place, and how you can save it before you get run over," Rothman says. "In the process of growing tourists, you can kill the goose that laid the golden egg."

Las Vegas, though, may have had less struggle with its identity than the other Western towns he inspects, such as ski resorts Aspen and Steamboat Streams, Colo., where some residents ended up regretting the influx of trendy tourists, who caused land values to skyrocket beyond locals' means.

"In other places that have other identities, it's the melding of the other identity with tourism that creates tension," Rothman says. "Here, you don't see that regret, because we don't have a big identity here, we change it with each generation."

Most Las Vegans "self-selected" to come here after the tourism industry was established, he says, so they had full knowledge of what they were getting themselves into. "Many weren't coming to Las Vegas to escape the world, they were coming to create it. The sense of loss here isn't that great, because we didn't have an allegiance to the past. Nobody in Las Vegas yearns for the good old days before the dam."

Rothman concedes that there is a small band of old-timers who prefer an earlier version of Las Vegas, who claim the town was better when the mob ran it, who agree with the Joe Piscopo ad for Station Casinos that reminisce about the days "before the pyramid, before volcanos."

The hardest part, Rothman said, was distinguishing between genuine negative impact on the community and simple nostalgia for the good old days.

But whatever dissatisfaction with the changes, the area's continued growth rate acknowledges the fact that most people agree that there are great advantages to living in a state to which tourists flock -- world-class restaurants, golf courses and shopping, entertainment headliners, international prestige.

Still, there are some negatives that Las Vegans have accepted to court tourists.

One of the first trade-offs Las Vegans made was economic, having to accept outside funding -- whatever its sources. "Las Vegas didn't have a choice -- we didn't have any other assets," Rothman says. When Las Vegas agreed to market its one strength -- the gaming industry -- it agreed to become reliant on outside funding, first from the mob and then from the corporations.

Each time, residents were forced to accept the changes that brought. When the corporations came into town, longtime dealers suddently found a new "glass ceiling" when trying to advance into management, losing out to MBA graduates, Rothman said. "People tied to that leadership lose those power and perks," he said, "and those who were on their way up end up at El Cortez."

Tourist towns also have a way of affecting career paths.

Like aspiring teachers who find they can earn more slinging drinks, workers in Las Vegas and in other tourist areas such as Hawaii find that unskilled work can pay more than skilled work. A job requiring a college degree could mean a pay cut and, according to Rothman, workers often end up taking jobs that in the long run are "less challenging."

Other concessions are more psychological.

For one, residents are forced to become the city's personal boosters, playing up Las Vegas' strengths and playing down the problems -- to outsiders, at least. Though Las Vegans might gripe to one another, when it's time to greet outsiders, it's usually smiles all around.

"I work for the university, the state -- my salary and success is dependent on the tourism industry," Rothman concedes. However, he clarifies that "it's not that we're apologists. We see (Las Vegas) through its lens and explain it to an unsympathetic world."

Still, that two-faced mentality leaves us downplaying issues that put us in negative light, such as the worsening air quality and negative crime statistics.

Rothman doubts that the city or media would go so far as to actually suppress bad news -- but that doesn't mean it doesn't get buried on page 26. "We certainly don't advertise our problems, but no one else does, either," he notes.

With a third of the town working in the service industry, there is also a service mentality that locals have developed. Rothman describes how Las Vegas is willing to pander to its visitors. "If Mexican boxer Julio Cesar Chavez was scheduled to fight, Las Vegas turned Mexican," he writes. "When the National Finals Rodeo arrived each December, the community went cowboy."

Though Rothman's book takes a thorough look at these trade-offs throughout history, it would have been interesting if he had pursued other, more current decisions being made today.

One prime example that goes unmentioned in the book is the abandonment of the First Amendment rights of free speech and assembly on the Strip and on Fremont Street. Those are basic freedoms that the city, the county and, by extension, the residents, have been willing to sacrifice to ensure comfort for tourists won't be disturbed by raunchy handbills or religious proselytes.

And once you get started, current examples of how we consistently sacrifice for our visitors are plentiful: the money poured into brand new designer gates and murals at the airport, the low gaming and room tax compared to other areas, the county's subsidizing of the new Flamingo overpasses on the Strip.

But on the whole, locals can hardly complain, having gone into the business with their eyes wide open.

Rothman may call it a "devil's bargain," but in a city built on buffets and comps, Las Vegans are never ones to turn down a good bargain.