Columnist Jon Ralston: Selling never ceases on ‘Oscar TV’

Friday, March 12, 2004 | 5:11 a.m.

Jon Ralston hosts the news discussion program Face to Face on Las Vegas ONE and publishes the Ralston Report. He can be reached at (702) 870-7997 or at ralston@vegas.com.

WEEKEND EDITION

March 13 - 14, 2004

The camera follows His Honor as he steps out of his car at City Hall. The first episode of "Oscar TV," his new reality show, is going well.

His trademark gray suit features sewn-on patches from Adidas and Converse, two of the sponsors he is shilling for in the national women's magazine, Jane. And today he is wearing a cap emblazoned with the logo for iPolitix, the company he is promoting for his son, Ross, and Councilman Michael Mack.

"This is the best," Oscar Goodman beams into the camera. "I sell myself, I sell the city, I sell anything as long as it brings attention to me. I am the happiest mayor."

As Goodman enters City Hall, the camera lingers on his Mercedes. It zooms in on his license plate, which reads "LV 1" and then on the license plate holder, which has lettering that says, "Buy Bombay Sapphire and Support The Meadows School." The cameraman pans down to the bumper sticker with the Bombay Sapphire logo that reads, "I drink and jive."

The "Oscar TV" camera follows the mayor inside City Hall, focusing on the sign above the doorway: Goodman Inc.

Mack sits at a booth next to the elevator. He, too, is wearing an iPolitix cap and is pestering those coming to pay parking tickets or present development plans. He inveigles them to buy into the company that offers interactive campaign tools. Goodman glances down at the iPolitix CDs Mack was hawking, which feature the mayor's State of the City speech and other Goodman TV appearances.

He smiles again and looks into the "Oscar TV" camera: "I put the 'I' in iPolitix," he crows. He looks at Mack and says, "Keep up the good work, son. With your business sense and Ross' connections, this is a can't-miss proposition."

Goodman faces the elevator and the camera focuses on the logo on the door as it opens: Property of Station Casinos. Inside are ads for the various company properties, including one outside the Las Vegas city limits. "I shouldn't have let them put that Sunset Station ad in here. But when they promised to make another Bobblehead of me, with absolutely no benefit to the city, it was an offer I couldn't refuse."

The elevator rises to the top of City Hall, stopping briefly at the Howard Hughes Corp. Planning Department and the Crazy Horse Too Business License Bureau. The city recently commenced a pilot program whereby companies could sponsor city departments for a six-figure fee -- half of the money went into a new city fund called the "black hole account" and the other half went to the always needy Meadows School.

The camera follows Goodman as the elevator door swings open on the 10th floor. A staffer greets him with news that he received a phone call about another Internet gaming site that wanted to purchase the city's seal to give it legitimacy.

"They just keep calling," Goodman says, instinctively turning to look in the camera again. "I tried selling the city's good name to some folks a couple of years ago but people seemed to think it was a bad idea. So what if it might have prostituted the city so some private folks can make a buck? Here's what people don't understand. I brought the crass back to Las Vegas. My motto is: Anything that's legal. Why not? If it brings money into the city and, more importantly, brings attention to me, what's the problem? Anyone who doesn't like it can drop dead."

The "Oscar TV" producer whispers to the mayor that it's not reality TV if he keeps playing to the camera. He should just do what he normally does.

"But this is what I do," Goodman insists, plaintively. "I get my staff to find opportunities for me to do interviews. And sometimes it even helps the city, which is OK, too."

Goodman sits down behind his huge desk, which is covered with Jane magazines, the Station Bobbleheads and iPolitix CDs. A staffer enters and tells him he may not have the votes on the City Council to start selling commercial time to developers on the city station, KCLV. Goodman shakes his head.

"Why shouldn't we sell city time to those who need city approvals?" he wonders. "There's no conflict there."

The staffer sighs and says, "Councilman Mack is the only one who agrees, mayor. He doesn't see a conflict at all."

Goodman pulls a book from underneath an oversized Bombay Sapphire martini glass on his desk and waves it in front of the camera. "Have you seen my book," Goodman says, holding up a copy of a recently published biography that he routinely refers to in conversations as his own work. "It's available in all the bookstores."

Goodman pauses for a moment, briefly appears reflective and then turns to the camera again: "Some people think I will sell anything. But the one thing I won't sell is my soul." Another pause. "That's because I sold that long ago to the mob," he says, actually smiling, without a trace of ruefulness.

And then he goes back to work, as the camera watches, listening to pitches about selling nominations for Citizen of the Month and checking how many hits Jane magazine's website received the previous day.

"Oscar TV," the reality show, is sure to be a success.