Where I Stand — Brian Greenspun: A revered career, life

Thursday, July 11, 2002 | 8:54 a.m.

HERB MCDONALD always had a better idea. He's one very good reason why Las Vegas is the tourist capital of the world.

Herb passed away last Saturday. With him went a life full of stories about the who, what and whys that made Las Vegas the city it has become. And they weren't the stories of others he was repeating -- they were his own. Herb McDonald lived, ate and breathed this town from its earliest days when dreamers were in short supply and doers were even rarer.

If you were fortunate enough to have known Herb, it meant hours of reminiscing pleasure about the days when the joints needed tourists and needed people with ideas big enough to bring them here from long distances. Those hours were also well spent looking forward, which was a hallmark of Herb's life, to figure out how what had been built would continue to thrive in an increasingly competitive world. In short, life in and around Mr. McDonald was always a lesson in creative thinking.

To read Ed Koch's story about Herb's life in Tuesday's Las Vegas Sun is to marvel at a career full of life, love and an abundance of caring for the city he adopted as a very young man. Even though he tried a stint outside of Las Vegas building a very successful business for golfing phenomenon Jack Nicklaus, his heart brought him back to Las Vegas at a time when a depressed tourist industry needed a person with his vigor and vision.

As the first director of Las Vegas Events, he almost single-handedly snatched the National Finals Rodeo from Oklahoma City -- where it had become a permanent fixture -- and brought it to the Thomas & Mack where it plays a key role in filling Las Vegas hotel rooms during what had always been a very slow season and an even more important role in introducing our city to thousands of new rodeo-loving visitors each year.

With Herb there was never a shortage of ideas and never a lack of energy to make them work. In fact, what Las Vegas could always have used more of then and, more to the point, now, are clones of Herb McDonald. His was a name that permeated early Las Vegas whenever there was a need to be filled or leader to take on the challenge. And he did so almost to the time of his death because he never stopped thinking.

I think, other than my parents, a doctor and, perhaps, a nurse or two, Herb was the first adult I ever knew, although I was much too young to remember.

As his story goes, when my mother was in labor awaiting my much anticipated birth, my father was busily looking for the keys to his car which, had he found them, would have only gotten him so far in his quest to reach the hospital in time. He would have had to remember where he left the car which increased the odds of a pre-birth arrival substantially.

Herb was working at the El Rancho Vegas, which was a most magnificent structure at the corner of Sahara and Las Vegas Boulevard (then known by other names). He, unlike my father at that time, had a car in the parking lot and keys to match. He drove Hank to Southern Nevada Memorial Hospital, now known as University Medical Center, in plenty of time for my arrival.

For the next few decades Herb would fondly repeat that story, taking credit, I always assumed, for the brilliant young man before him who had grown from such turbulent prenatal times. It is a story, I might add, that I could never confirm.

When I questioned my mother, she said something about having other things on her mind at the time and my father, well, he couldn't remember. As I grow older I understand full well my dad's inability to recall salient facts like how he got to the hospital many decades earlier. Remembering what I had for breakfast presents its own set of challenges these days.

So, without learning anything to the contrary, I accepted Herb's story early on and thanked him throughout the years for his kindness before he ever knew me. But it is the kindness he exhibited after knowing me and countless others he also helped along the way for which I will always be grateful.

He never said "no" and he never said "no way" to a good idea. And, if my ideas or those of others in this town weren't so hot, he would take the time to teach us so that they would become better and more workable. And then he did what he could to help us succeed. I always suspected that was because, as a young man, there were people in his life who encouraged him to become a success and he was just passing on the favor. What a great way to live a good life.

There are hundreds of stories to tell about Herb and not enough space to do them justice. He loved his family, he loved his precious Darlene, who was taken tragically from him while she was trying to help others, he loved this city and he loved his friends. And all of us loved him.

If there is a greater sadness than losing him, it is that there are so many people who now enjoy this city as residents and as tourists who never knew him and, now, never will. He was a man who had his moments. Las Vegans are all better for the fact that he spent so many of them with us.

Rest well, Herb.

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