Make the Past Last

Kimberley McGee

Thursday, Feb. 18, 1999 | 10:58 a.m.

Joni Mitchell could have been commenting on Las Vegas history when she sang, "You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone. They paved paradise, put up a parking lot."

The continuing destruction of historical Las Vegas buildings leaves Lenz longing for community support. "If you don't start paying attention to history as it exists within your community, you lose your soul," he laments.

But Las Vegans are rising to defend their waning history by writing letters and calling local governments, prompting action to preserve the past.

"The city is more attentive to community reaction; we were acting on the requests of citizens," Marc Castagnola, historic preservation officer for the City of Las Vegas, says in his thick French accent. "I agree that Las Vegas is not known for its history, it is known for its gambling.

"But for the people who grew up here, it is important that we try to preserve those pieces in history ... to strengthen the sense of community, to feel that you belong somewhere."

The secret past

Peek under Las Vegas' brightly lighted facade and you will uncover a young city that, nonetheless, is rich with historic significance -- but with a citizenry that had been miserly in its concern.

"Unfortunately, too many people don't have a real vibe for Las Vegas history," Lenz, owner of the Huntridge, says.

"Try to tear down an historical building in Boston and they'd shoot you," he explains. "Of course people look at history as Boston or New York, and that is just not fair. History is applicable to wherever you are."

On the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Washington Avenue, the 144-year-old Mormon Fort stands as the oldest settlement in Southern Nevada and a revered landmark of the valley's physical history. If the city had the attitude then that it does today, Lenz says, the building would have been torn down in 1900 to make room for, well, we can only guess.

The nonprofit Friends of the Huntridge, dedicated to preserving the surrounding neighborhood, is trying to save one of the first World War II-era tract housing developments, off Charleston Avenue and Maryland Parkway.

"It was an opportunity to really bring to life something that was a major part of our culture in the '40s, '50s and '60s," he says, "to make it again part of the Las Vegas culture."

Although recognized on the National Register of Historic Places in 1994, the Huntridge Theater is a recent addition to the short list of Nevada's historical sites.

The art deco-style theater was the first to be built in Las Vegas in 1944 and is the oldest still in use. Lenz fought for two years for national recognition (received in 1994), for federal funding and also for aid to preserve it on a state level, but that designation would take twice as long to achieve.

"Every year, when I would go up and apply for grants, (the city) would ask if I was on the state register, and then ask why not," Lenz says, laughing. "But they are understaffed and overworked and it takes a lot of time, and there was no mad rush since we were on the federal designation."

Historical recognition by local government prolongs the time period for demolition so that other options, such as moving a building or changing its function (say, from movie theater to art center), can be considered. It also allows for certain tax breaks. Federal recognition opens doors to funding. State recognition is mostly honorific.

Knowing the events that took place in the buildings that residents drive past prompts community pride, Lenz says, and it's harder to tear down a building with significance.

"It's important for the recognition by the state (so that) the community recognizes this is an important building ... because we have so little left," he says.

Without recognition, sites may end up like the 1908 icehouse located downtown and the 1930s Las Vegas Hospital, which were both demolished after fires destroyed the boarded-up buildings.

People power

The National Register of Historic Places has recognized more than 300 worthy sites in Nevada, while the city and county registers lag behind, suffering from staff deficiencies and mired in paperwork.

"Cities are incredibly driven, more than (people) realize, by citizens who get involved. For the most part, (local governments) want to respond to the citizenry," Lenz says.

And they did. When the nearly 50-year-old hotel-casinos, including the Dunes, Landmark, Sands, Hacienda and Aladdin, met their fates, the city began to receive more calls from concerned citizens and responded with an ordinance that halts demolition of recognized historical sites for 180 days rather than 30.

"The biggest community push happened in early '97 when major hotels went down," Castaglano says, referring to how Ryan Hall, on Maryland Parkway next to Bishop Gorman High School, was bulldozed to make room for a parking lot.

"People said (of the hotels), 'This is a big piece of history,' especially the Sands, but when the (Ryan Hall) church went down, that was a part of the heart of the community," Castagnola says. "We received a lot of phone calls."

It was too late to save the 1940s-era, stained glass-windowed structure. But new hope surged among local longtime historians -- residents were starting to pay attention.

"That was a turning point (for legislation) because it wasn't an important issue to the community, there was no support," for preservation, Castagnola says.

Guidelines are being crafted to save current sites not yet on the city and county registers, including: the Las Vegas High School Neighborhood District, between 6th and 9th Streets and Bridger and Gass avenues; the Washington School on White Street in North Las Vegas; and the Little Church of the West on the south end of the Strip.

Reach out

Today the Whitehead House, a 5,000-square-foot home built in 1929, sits on a vacant parking lot on the corner of 10th Street and Carson Avenue, in three two-story chunks. But its history is deeply rooted in the first industrial boom of Las Vegas, then a small western town.

Architect A. Lacy Worswick trekked to Las Vegas in 1929 from San Francisco -- which he had helped restore the city after the great earthquake of 1906 -- to make his mark in the growing railroad town.

He asked the first county assessor, Stephen Whitehead, another newcomer, if he could build the new luxury home, the largest yet to be constructed in Las Vegas with running water, electricity, and indoor plumbing.

"It is important to remember that ... he gave a relatively small, poor community a lot of good stuff," Frank Wright, director of the Nevada History Museum, says. "There were no ostentatious mansions or public buildings, it just wasn't that kind of community. I think what Worswick accomplished was pretty remarkable."

When he finished, Worswick was asked to design buildings around the valley, including many of the homes on 10th street that have since become office space.

"(Worswick) was probably the most prominent (architect)," Wright says. "I'm sure there are people around town that remember him, but it is such a vanishingly small group now, the people who lived here in the 20s and 30s."

The Junior League of Las Vegas has been involved in trying to preserving homes for decades. The community group stepped in last fall when the 70-year-old Whitehead House was bound for demolition.

"If we don't, we will be telling our children, 'This is what used to be here,' " Lois Helton, a League member, says. "I don't think you can really appreciate something unless you can feel it, touch it and experience it in a very present manner."

The lack of longtime locals adds to the lackadaisical attitude Las Vegans have shown toward the city's past.

"It takes a few experiences to realize what you have lost," Helton says. "Too many people may have a concept that to be historic, it has to be from the 1800s or it's not told enough," she says. "They don't realize in another 50 years, it's got great significance."

It's everywhere

Too few people also realize that older buildings that have been left behind are not just remnants of the past, but physical reminders of how Las Vegas grew up.

"As long as occupants are in it, which is always a major key, it will be kept up," Wright says.

****Someone has always cared for the Moulin Rouge hotel-casino on West Bonanza Road. Its rocky history of numerous openings and closings helped to maintain its historic integrity.

"I'm putting care back into the property," said Bart Maybie, owner and president of CBC Financial, which owns the aging hotel, built in 1955.

The hotel, Maybie says, was the first segregated hotel-casino in the United States, before the civil rights movement and Rosa Parks made segregation a national issue.

The purple building, with its looping neon marquee, has been closed for years. However, people still stop by to reminisce or catch a glimpse of a part of local black culture.

"Keeping it reminds people things are going in the right direction," he says. "When these things disappear, then people have a tendency to forget (the past)."

The Green Shack restaurant, 2504 E. Fremont St., has kept its doors open since Jimmie Jones served biscuits and coffee to the Boulder Dam workers from the back of her one-room home.

"Most history starts with Bugsy Siegel. But there was a town here long before that," says Jim McCormick, Jones' nephew and current owner of the restaurant, which some say serves the best fried chicken in town.

"Bugsy hung out at the Green Shack, this is where the idea (for the Flamingo hotel) got started," he claims. "If it weren't for the Green Shack, it would mean no Las Vegas as we know it."

There is a a certain vibe within the wooden walls of the restaurant, where deals were once struck and politicians got drunk with their constituents.

"There's a series of things that helped this town grow," McCormick says. "First, we were a railroad town, the dam, World War II, and the mining, and the mob was just in between."

And the future? The first industrial boom came in with a dam -- the 1930s construction that brought hundreds of jobs to the valley -- and the landmarks it looks as if the landmarks of that once tiny town will go out with one.

McCormick says that people moving into Las Vegas these days "could give a damn about the town."

Castagnola disagrees. "Las Vegas is growing rapidly ... and becoming a true metropolis," he says. "As such, historic preservation becomes a key element to the quality of life."

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