Las Vegas Sun

March 29, 2024

John Katsilometes takes in the New Year’s Eve festivities, during which he hangs out with Clint Holmes, the mayor and a psychic, and stops in on parties at the El Cortez and Stirling Club

New Year's Eve in Las Vegas did not start in the evening. It began at noon Sunday at Michael Gaughan's South Point hotel, where the fine-of-voice Las Vegas Tenors performed for a capacity audience of 600 in the Sonoma Ballroom.

As we careened toward midnight and beyond, we (twice) ran into Clint Holmes and Kelly Clinton, observed revelers at the Fremont Street Experience quaffing adult beverages from clear plastic footballs, bumped into a psychic with an intriguing prediction about Michael Jackson and Celine Dion, asked Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman about his undersized martini glass and visited both El Cortez and the Stirling Club, among many other haunts.

A rundown of the countdown:

11:40 a .m.: I am seated for the LV Tenors show and to my left is Audrey Holmes, the 91-year-old mother of Clint. The opera-trained vocalist smiles as I ask if she has done any singing lately. She says, "Not since Clint closed the show." Audrey was frequently called upon by her son to sing, "Summertime," during his performances at Harrah's. The show closed in September so Holmes could work on his autobiographical play, tentatively titled, "Breathe." As the show starts, Holmes and Clinton join the table.

12:55 p.m.: After performing several songs in a variety of configurations, the tenors - Bobby Black, Teddy Davey, Bill Fayne and Mark Giovi (joined for this show by Holmes' sister, Gayle Steele) - finally hit the stage together for "Let the Good Times Roll." (The quartet are seeking an extended engagement in Vegas and has secured four dates, Jan. 19-20 and Jan. 26-27, at the Gold Coast for 2007.)

1:40 p.m.: To balloons, streamers and "Auld Lang Syne," we ring in the new year - more than eight hours early.

3:45 p.m.: I pull into the main entrance of the Turnberry Place - not to park, but to make sure I will be able park when I return at around 11 p.m. for the NYE party at the Stirling Club. The attendant asks where I am heading now, and I tell her the gym. So she tells me her New Year's resolution will be to start a workout regimen. And I plan to hold her to that promise.

7:45 p.m.: After a break in the action (including a trip to a sparsely populated Las Vegas Athletic Club) we join "America's Party" under the Fremont Street Experience, and I spot the first football beer of the evening being nursed by a woman wearing "2007" glasses. About 17,000 (at a $80 a pop, far and away the highest ticket price for New Year's Eve on Fremont Street) are expected for a five-band show on two stages featuring Rockstar: SuperNova, OK GO, Five for Fighting, Smash Mouth, All-American Rejects and Chicago.

8:05 p.m.: The famed poker room at Binion's is about a quarter full and, aside from a woman unable to pull herself from the game calling to a floor person for some pain reliever, eerily quiet.

8:15 p.m.: We take a walk around the newly renovated Golden Nugget and spot a solitary celebrant swimming in the outdoor pool at the Tank, the hotel's large shark aquarium (stirring up some stuff here: the bar at the Tank is called the Dive Bar, which is also the name of an actual dive bar at 3035 E. Tropicana Ave. in Vegas).

8:40 p.m.: At Four Queens, a distinguished silver-haired gentleman wearing a striking white blazer peppered with a red and blue checked pattern stops me, grabs my hand and says, "Hey! Hello!" I don't know this man. Then he says, "Are you from Denmark?" I tell him no and we part ways.

8:55 p.m.: At El Cortez, a long line has formed at Careful Kitty's cafe, where a man with red bloodlike splotches on the back of his T-shirt is given VIP treatment and hops the line. And we are told that there are a few rooms available at the rate of $129 (which might be an El Cortez record).

9:15 p.m.: The Irish folk/Celtic rock band Finnegan's Wake performs for a small but enthusiastic crowd at Hennesey's Tavern. We are told that the club upstairs, to be called Brass, which was expected to be open by New Year's Eve, won't be ready until Jan. 15 at the earliest.

9:30 p.m.: We corral Mayor Goodman between TV gigs. He is carrying a small martini glass and I say, "That's a little drink." He says, "If it weren't a prop, it would be a lot bigger." The mayor looks happy and is sharply groomed, ready for the cameras. "There are people from all over the world here, and they all recognize the mayor of Las Vegas! It is good to be me!" I ask about the progress of Neonopolis, the future of which is still sketchy (the latest plans unveiled by developer Rohit Joshi in December failed to inspire Goodman, and it has been revealed that Jillian's and Galaxy Theatres are leaking money and Del Prado Jewelers is relying on holdover clientele from its old downtown location to stay afloat).

"Neonopolis has been an albatross around my neck for years, as you know," Goodman says, turning serious. "But I think it can be the centerpiece of downtown, I really do. I wouldn't be saying that if I didn't mean it. I don't have any time frame about what will happen with Neonopolis, but I am optimistic."

9:45 p.m.: I am introduced to celebrated Las Vegas psychic Marlene Lombardi (who, of course, saw this coming) and I ask for a prediction for 2007. She says, "Michael Jackson and Celine Dion will work together. Michael wants to do good work, and Celine will help him."

11 p.m.: After a quick change of attire (and mental focus) we snake our way into the Stirling Club, where we immediately run into Clint Holmes and Kelly Clinton. Bowing to fate, we sink into leather seats and wait for the clock to turn.

11:30: Among the many passers-by are Marvin "Sweet Louie" Smith and his new wife, Linda. He is wearing his trademark "Sweet Louie" glasses and departs to sing "What a Wonderful World" to the dinner crowd next door.

Midnight: After several minutes of discussing where to watch the Strip fireworks show, we stay planted and listen to the thumps and bumps ring in (officially) the new year. Holmes later says that the year he wrote the music for the fireworks show, 2004, he couldn't actually hear the music from the blasts of pyrotechnics. And we didn't hear the music this time, either.

1:35 a.m.: All talked out, we start to leave and run into flamboyant Vegas attorney James "Bucky" Buchanan in the lounge, and his wife, Gianna, in the hallway. Gianna tells us again how media-shy Bucky is. That would be the first tall tale, but not the last, of the new year.

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