Columnist John Katsilometes: Changes at Palace not so grand

Monday, May 22, 2000 | 9:19 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun assistant features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

The hallway leading to the executive offices at Arizona Charlie's is adorned with posters of the famous, semi-famous and infamous performers who once graced the Palace Grand Theatre stage.

Hotel Executive Vice President and General Manager Ron Lurie, a demure type who fits well into a gray blazer, gestures to each as he leads an informal tour down memory lane.

"There's Johnny McEnroe," he says. "He sure had a great time. But I don't think anyone knew he was John McEnroe, the famous tennis player. They just thought he was some musician they didn't know. He didn't draw well."

Peppered with Lurie's one-dimensional critiques, the tour continues.

"Toby Keith drew well. ... Dr. Hook didn't draw too well. ... Herman's Hermits drew OK. ... Chuck Negron, he's the guy from Three Dog Night, he drew well. ... Leon Redbone, boy, he drew really well. ... The Lovin' Spoonful, I think they drew OK. ... Ambrosia, they always drew very well for us."

A few moments later Lurie is leaning back in a cushy chair, explaining why Arizona Charlie's Palace Grand Theatre is closing down to be renovated as a soulless bingo room. It's Thursday night and the curtain-closing show starring Bobby "Blue" Bland is an hour away.

Speaking in a smooth baritone, Lurie talks of the theater's demise.

"We're doing a lot of things here to take care of all of our needs," he says. "We're a local casino, restaurant and entertainment center, and we need more space for bingo. That's what our customers want."

Arizona Charlie's is a bingo haven, with a room large enough to accommodate 350 players. But the bingo forces have outgrown the space; security is routinely summoned to the bingo room to make sure greedy players don't try to play at two stations, or save extra spaces for friends and family.

And hell hath no fury like a rabid bingo player shut out of a possible $10,000 jackpot.

A solution lies upstairs, where the Palace Grand Theatre can seat 800 for a show, or 500 for bingo. The shift in space is part of a long-term plan to expand Arizona Charlie's. The first step is to erect additional lighting for the hotel's Gothic parking lot (which looks like the backdrop for "Night of the Living Dead") and make room for yet more slot machines. The old bingo room will be turned into a meeting room and conference center.

The hotel's lone entertainment venue will be the Naughty Ladies Saloon, which will swell from a capacity of 125 to 200. Lurie, who has been with the hotel for 10 years, yearns for the days when "baby" acts (no-names who just might become famous one day) were featured in the old lounge.

"The Dixie Chicks played the lounge," he says. "Of course that was way before they got famous. Tim McGraw played there. ... We want to go back and bring in the types of bands that put us on the map."

That means the hotel's featured performers in the Naughty Ladies Saloon will be the soulful Checkmates, longtime Las Vegas blues ensemble John Earl and the Boogey Man Band, and lounge veteran Jerry Tiffe. Each act has a loyal following and, in its own way, is well-suited for the lounge. But none has the widespread name recognition or drawing power of Blood, Sweat and Tears (a former Arizona Charlie's headliner), or the rickety 70-year-old man who played the final concert at the Palace Grand Theatre.

"We're lucky to have him tonight," Lurie says of Bland. "We booked him between shows, on his way to Los Angeles. That's how we've had to get our acts, when they're on their way to someplace else and want to fill in."

The room is nearly full a half-hour before the houselights drop for Bland's introduction. Bathed in full light, it's striking how the Palace Grand Theatre has always been wrongly named. It is neither palatial nor grand, and it's definitely not a theater. It's only a big room, with patrons seated at row after row of long tables covered with yellow tablecloths. Some fans near the back sit in plastic folding chairs. Hanging overhead are a few faded chandeliers.

With a walk that has artificial hip written all over it, Bland finally arrives. He's 20 minutes behind schedule, wearing a scowl, looking like he'd just as soon swat the crowd with a switch as sing to it. But for the next 90 minutes the venerable soul singer and member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame takes the audience on a soulful joyride.

"I've always felt I've been blessed," Bland says near the end of the show. "When I turned 70 I knew I was blessed."

Having swayed to hallmarks such as "I Pity The Fool," "I'll Take Care of You," "Don't Cry For Me" and "That's The Way Love Is," the crowd rises in full roar as Bland takes his final bow and shuffles off stage.

The old man leaves, taking the heart of the Palace Grand Theatre with him.

At least he drew well.