Columnist Susan Snyder: Laughlin is king of this town

Monday, April 21, 2003 | 8:16 a.m.

Don Laughlin remembers when Laughlin's annual motorcycle rally consisted of a half-dozen Phoenix motorcycle cops who spent a quiet weekend at his Riverside Resort.

But that was some 35 years ago, shortly after he opened what was then a one-story, eight-room motel on the dusty banks of the Colorado River.

"I never dreamed it would be this big," Laughlin said.

Laughlin's "motel" is now the Riverside Resort with 1,400 rooms that are full on weekends. The map speck named for him has grown into a town with 10 hotel-casinos, about 10,000 residents, a library, a high school and an elected town board that advises Clark County officials on issues concerning constituents who live 90 miles from county commission meetings.

And the annual four-day Laughlin River Run, which opens Wednesday, now attracts about 70,000 bikers to the tiny community that sits 10 miles from California and across the river from Arizona.

"You couldn't get a room within 50 miles of here now," Laughlin said two weeks before the rally.

Last year's rally attracted police officers for more than a social call. Three bikers were killed during a brawl between members of the Hell's Angels and Mongols at Harrah's Laughlin. That hotel sits at the southern end of the town's casino row. The Riverside is at the northern tip.

Laughlin said he has for several years kept certain groups of bikers out of his hotel and off his property, just to avoid such a melee. The four-day frolic is one small aspect of life in Laughlin.

The casino owner, who turns 72 in May, has had it tougher. It is almost hard to imagine how rough this place was less than 40 years ago. If Laughlin hadn't earned a pilot's license before moving from North Las Vegas in 1966, he might not have even found the place.

Born a Minnesota farm boy, Laughlin was always more interested in jukeboxes and slot machines than fur trapping. But the trapping helped him earn enough money to buy mail-order slot machines and install them in local bars. At 15 he was pulling in $500 a week. The machines were illegal, but authorities ignored them.

When interstate shipment of the machines was abolished in the early 1950s, the newly married Laughlin moved to Las Vegas, where he could pursue becoming a gaming proprietor.

"When they made it a felony, I had to move," Laughlin said.

He landed a job as a bartender and went to dealer's school. In 1954 he bought the 101 Club in North Las Vegas, which he sold in 1964. He had earned his pilot's license and took to the sky looking for a new enterprise.

"We looked all over Nevada -- Lake Topaz, Tahoe, Elko, Wendover," Lauhglin said.

That's when he spotted the boarded-up motel at the edge of the Colorado River south of Las Vegas. He put $35,000 down and opened for business. And it was a good thing he had the plane. It was the only way to get supplies.

"I had to fly into Vegas two to three times a day for supplies or meat, liquor and beer. We couldn't get any delivery down here," he said. "I once had a whole load of beer, and the plane door flew open."

Behind him, beyond the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window of his Riverside Resort office, a Sun Country airliner took off from the full-service airport Laughlin built on the Arizona side of the river. It's hard to imagine landing on the 600-foot airstrip he first built across the road from his motel.

"It had a power line running across the middle of it, and I had to land under the power line," Laughlin said. "You have to do that right the first time."

And do it in daylight -- 600 feet isn't exactly a wealth of landing space. Laughlin still uses an airplane or a helicopter for traveling to Las Vegas on twice-weekly business trips. The journey takes 24 minutes.

He raised two sons and a daughter in Laughlin, and his three grandchildren live there still. One granddaughter is the Riverside's executive office receptionist. And his youngest grandson was just named Laughlin High School valedictorian.

The teen's father, Laughlin's son, also was valedictorian. But the high school was in Kingman, 35 miles away.

It was a hard life being the only game in town. It's still tough -- Laughlin works 10 a.m. to about 3 a.m. most days. But it's not the hours that make it hard. American Indian casinos in California and other neighboring areas have drawn away some of Laughlin's regulars.

"Our growth has slowed down because of the Indian gaming," Laughlin said. "This summer will tell the story. I don't know how much longer we'll have 10 hotels."

Well, it's not an existence for the weak or wavering. Laughlin figures his strict financial practices and perseverance will continue to pay off.

"I don't believe in borrowing money. I've never borrowed to buy a car or a plane," he said. "If I can't pay for it, I don't do it."

And don't forget that stubborn streak.

"My doctor told me to quit skiing 35 years ago," he said. "Well, he's dead, and I'm still skiing."