Columnist Kate Maddox: Show closes after fun run

Kate Maddox

Friday, Feb. 8, 2002 | 4:58 a.m.

So, I'm thinking, whatever am I going to write for my last Las Vegas Sun column? I guess by now at least some of you know that I'm closing up shop here after more than 2 1/2 years of playing the gossip game. And for those of you who are hearing it for the first time ... well, I'm closing up shop here after more than 2 1/2 years of playing the gossip game.

Since I couldn't figure out what to say (for once) I asked around for tips on how to get out of this thing gracefully. As you might have guessed, grace is not my forte.

Some people said I should write the kind of column I've secretly always wanted to write -- rip on the David Cassidys of the world and everyone who gave me a hard time. Just take this space to go off and tell them all that their stars will continue to dim as long as I have something to say about it.

But then I realized, A) that's not nice, and B) I won't have a place to say anything about it anymore.

Another close pal suggested I write a mock column. You know, dummy up some phony stories about philandering politicians, hard-partying celebs and red-carpet scandal-makers. "But isn't that what I've been doing?" I queried. My "pal" smiled meekly and walked away. Enough for that idea. (I won't tell your secrets here, but just know that I've still got 'em. And don't worry, I'll change your names when I write my book.)

Still another suggestion was to go after my counterpart at the other newspaper, kiss him off in print and point out his errors in detail. Sure, that's an idea, but I'm not a hit-and-run kinda girl. If I'm going to sucker-punch, seems to me I should be facing my opponent, not shooting over my shoulder, so to speak.

So I'm going with my instinct here. I'll just tell you a little story about what I was thinking when I got in and what I'm thinking now that I'm sadly getting out.

When I arrived in Las Vegas, all that time ago from the East Coast, I didn't know a soul. I had no idea what this place was about and honestly hadn't the foggiest clue how I was going to become an insider -- much less one of the in-est insiders roaming the Strip.

So off I set with a pocket full of 20s and a bucket of grease. (I'm kidding ... Hello!)

See, the thing I've learned about Las Vegas is that it's the kind of place that welcomes floundering, young columnists. People often ask me how I managed to break into the game here and get my stories, and the answer is: I made them all up. (Some of you are laughing -- some of you aren't. Again, hello, I'm kidding.)

But the real answer is that I was able to write this column because of the people I have met. The entertainers, executives, hard-toiling PR people, tipsters, celebrities, red-carpet watchers, bartenders, doormen, valet parkers, bitter ex-employees, ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, current bitter employees, boyfriends, girlfriends ... the whole lot of friendly folks who like nothing better than to see their stories in the newspaper or see their names in print.

And as I depart, I do so with many, many fond memories of the experiences I've had, the incredible stories I've been told and the wonderful people I have met.

I hope that I've given you some good news, a break from reality and, above all, a laugh -- and hopefully I've done it with some class. If anything, this opportunity has taught me that we shouldn't take ourselves too seriously -- and that sometimes even those we admire are entitled to an occasional reality check. I'm just glad I've gotten to give them. Thank you.