Columnist Hal Rothman: How do we get to Bedford Falls?

Hal Rothman

Sunday, Oct. 16, 2005 | 10:31 a.m.

Editor's note: Today's column is the last in an eight-part series on the consequences of growth in the Las Vegas Valley

The surest prediction about the future of Las Vegas is that in 2030 the 70-plus-year-old me will be watching the 95-year-old Rolling Stones on stage at one of the hotels.

Anyway you slice it, Las Vegas will become a much bigger place well before then. The community will expand toward the new airport at Ivanpah, probably in the worst Southern California tradition -- a 30-odd mile strip about five blocks deep on both sides of the highway.

We'll develop that missing hinterland, with communities extending into Arizona, out to Pahrump, past North Las Vegas, with a few scattered satellites near Overton or in White Pine or Lincoln counties.

If we're lucky, there will be transportation systems as well as individual vehicles between these connections. A train between the two airports that would convey passengers and commuters, with other transportation available from the airport to destinations in town, is one option.

I get misty when I think about George Jetson-style hovercrafts and other vehicles in the air, and there will certainly be mass transit between outlier communities and the core.

The most certain reality of the future is the power of the Baby Boomers as an economic and social force in this valley. All tourist towns ultimately become real estate markets; the only question is: What kind of market are you going to be? We have already become a retirement market.

This is a fortunate choice. We are only beginning to feel the impact of that enormous cohort born between 1945 and 1964. They are the richest group of people to ever walk the face of the planet and they will be the greatest beneficiaries of transgenerational inheritance ever.

They will live longer than any humans in the history of the species and will do so in better health. They have shown such a penchant for experience that I have come to think of them as the "curious generation." They're everywhere already and they've barely begun to retire. The draw of Las Vegas for retirees is obvious. There's plenty to do, the weather is warm, and the community is exciting. It used to be affordable, too.

But all the increase in housing costs seems to have done is simply upscale the nature of newcomer retirees. More and more of them have to be affluent to afford to live here. The supply of such people seems to be infinite and, remember, the oldest of the Baby Boomers are only 60 this year.

Our position in American and world culture also seems secure. "What were once vices are now habits," the Doobie Brothers sang eons ago, and it nicely explains the change in the perception of Las Vegas.

In our society, entertainment and the glorification of the individual have become currency. From Eminem to Donald Trump, American life is all about the self.

As our attention spans become shorter and our desires become more extravagant, short of a revolution of the scale of George Orwell's 1984, Las Vegas should stay at the pinnacle, the first wonder of the post-modern world and the first city of the 21st century.

We'll remain the canvas for American neuroses, a mirror into which Americans look and see themselves.

The shape of the city and the valley is a harder question. Greater Las Vegas is no longer one city and it hasn't been for a long time. The greatest consequence of growth has been the disintegration of central institutions in the valley and their reconstitution as neighborhood-based or regional ones.

It is as if each Station or Coast casino defines a new node, a 6-square-mile area in which people currently live and play. We know these as Sunset Station, Suncoast and many more.

The single most necessary step, for the livability of the valley, is to convert these live and play zones to live, work and play zones.

The decentralization of American cities is a fact. The consequences for our urban areas, including downtown Las Vegas, have been devastating.

Despite the tremendous energy that Mayor Oscar Goodman and others have pumped into the old downtown, I'm dubious about long-term success. Too many differing visions and the unusual patchwork of competing rather than complementary endeavors creates a pastiche.

The prices are too high, the amenities too few, and the competition with other parts of the valley too stiff. The archaic center will continue its downhill slide as the communities further develop into full-fledged living zones.

These "post-urban pods" -- and if you've got a better name for them, let me know -- will be the salvation of the city. As people live, work and play within their self-defined quadrants, they will travel less, especially at rush hour.

We will still have a core area that includes the Strip, the hospitals, the university and other large employers and its work force will surely grow, but the decentralization of work opportunities will slow the increase of the number of people who daily travel longer distances. This alone will release a little of the pressure on our roadways; combined with comprehensive mass transit, it may even make our roads manageable again.

Less driving will also reduce the dreaded VMT, the average vehicle miles traveled per person per day. This measure has consistently grown and as the peripheries become denser, that trend is sure to continue.

The miles traveled each day contribute greatly to air pollution, our single most serious environmental problem. People who drive fewer miles and who don't sit in traffic produce less air pollution than those who do.

This is the best argument for continuing the trend toward mixed use development. Even though, right now, mixed use is the province of the affluent, it bodes well. It promises work close to home and, with that, alternative modes of transportation, shorter commutes and maybe even fewer cars on the road.

But those developments must come down in price -- or barring that, wages must rise to meet housing costs. Like no other town in the world, we depend on the quality of our workforce. As our visitors get older, this factor becomes even more important. Quality service depends on happy workers. Homeowners are happier workers than renters.

The Las Vegas of the future will speak Spanish. Today, you can live your life in Spanish in the valley and not be inconvenienced. In a decade, Rodriguez will be like Smith, a name so typical as to defy categorization. We'll be more diverse and tolerant as a result.

The future of Las Vegas is in our hands now. We can still make the community the way we want it to be, especially if we recognize that protecting the quality of life serves our economy as well as our community.

More strength from government, the stronger knitting of the bonds between us, more talk about where we're going and why we're going there, and more thought about how we can overcome the problems that face us give us one final shot at Bedford Falls.

Demand that people who want to lead reflect your hopes and not your fears. Demand that your voice be heard, that your reasoned pleas for roads, schools and services receive the attention of decision-makers.

Demand that education improve and that it receive the resources it needs. Demand culture. Demand that the roadways be developed intelligently, for long-term use and not as after-the-fact Band-Aids for existing problems. Demand the best for all of us.

Perhaps the greatest obstacle to our future is our own apathy. Too many of us refuse to invest in the community, refuse to put in the elbow grease that makes us more than people who live near each other.

Many don't expect to stay here, but an awful lot of us do. If we harness that energy, we can make this city as wonderful for our children and grandchildren as it has been for us.

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