Keeping the faith in neighborhood

Sunday, Jan. 7, 2007 | 8:47 a.m.

No tourist will ever pose, drinks in hand with a goofy smile, next to a photo of James Washington Jr. But in a city where the scenery seems to change faster than traffic lights, Washington is a rock. He has been here longer than the Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas sign or any casino in that famous skyline.

Over the last half-century, Washington has shared the same home with his wife and given sermons from the same pulpit of his plain stucco church near Martin Luther King Boulevard.

At 81, he sits in his Las Vegas home, shirt buttoned to the top beneath a gray cardigan as boys wearing T-shirts big enough for two people drift aimlessly down the sometimes dangerous streets.

It's a forgotten neighborhood now, one without casinos, superstars or prime rib buffets. It has abandoned shopping carts and yellow grass that tourists never set eyes upon.

"People don't see the ugly," he says. "People come in and they see things looking glamorous."

The neighborhood around The Greater Most High, his church just across the North Las Vegas line, isn't what it was, either. Strip malls are deteriorating, although barbershops and beauty salons have popped up. He still wears a smile most of the time, part of a cheery face framed by close-cropped white hair and a thin mustache.

Born in rural 1925 Oklahoma, Washington moved to Nevada for its abundance of jobs. He worked hard in construction, building some of the very buildings that surround him now.

Looking back, he isn't too sure how he has made it this far. But he knows that he adapted by remaining himself, right down to views about manhood and the role of women that seem antiquated today.

He says he still relies on simple ideas, like getting to know God, taking responsibility for your actions and honoring your parents. He also knows that the important things in his life are his wife of 58 years, Bobbie, their three children and 17 grandchildren.

He does worry about the future, he says, but then adds with a faint smile, that at his age, there isn't much he can do about it. "We're growing too fast," he says in a deep old-man voice. "We need to leave a legacy. But I don't know what's going to happen."