Thursday, May 29, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Local View: Signs of hope in a culture of reinvention

By Pj Perez

Our city has been built on the concept of reinvention. People come here to start over, to leave behind their pasts. Those of us who grew up here have been given no choice in the matter. Sin City wants to have a clean slate to work upon, a freshly cut deck of cards--she has little appreciation for history, preservation or posterity.

It takes a real understanding of Vegas' constant need for change to live here contentedly. For years, I was among those wanting to get out, to live beyond the claustrophobic confines of our mountainous surroundings. I wanted to experience life in supposedly culturally richer cities--San Francisco, Denver, Philadelphia. Though Vegas had treated me well, opening her unique cultural arms wide, I took her for granted. I did not understand what set our painfully insulated community apart from more established communities elsewhere.

It is not uncommon to return to one's hometown or old neighborhood, only to find the corner deli turned into a Starbucks, the old softball field paved over as a parking lot. The difference is, in Las Vegas, 20 or 30 years do not have to pass for this revamping to occur. Almost all of my adolescent memories, in the physical sense, have been destroyed, rebuilt or reinvented in one way or another--all in less than 10 years. For better or worse, Las Vegas has forcibly wiped my own slate clean.

The desert lots where once we played baseball and shot BB guns are now gas stations and multipurpose entertainment complexes. The coffee shops we practically lived at--Café Rainbow, Cyber City Café, Java Hut, Café Copioh, Enigma Café--have been closed, sold or burned--and forgotten. My favorite record store, Tower Records--an institution in any city--has been replaced by a thrift store. Benway Bop!, KUNV (pre-jazz), The Underground, Vintage Madness--all just footnotes in the unwritten annals of our cultural history.

I am forced to move forward, to spread outward, in the same sprawling direction as the rest of Las Vegas. In some ways, this is a good thing--I am given the chance to leave the past behind, to focus on the present, uncluttered by empty reminiscing. But in other ways it's kind of sad. My future children will never see where their father met their mother, where he played his first gig, where he read his first poem. All they will have is all that I have: the slowly fading stories and memories of our collective history.

Hopefully things will not have to be the same for the next generation of Las Vegans. In recent months, certain events and circumstances--both major and minor--have appeared, pointing toward perhaps a better future for those unfortunate enough to inherit our city's cultural legacy. Whether these movements are indicators of a temporary attitude shift or a permanent redirection, the cultural and political leaders of Sin City seem to be taking steps to assure that there will be at least some physical sense of history for future Las Vegans.

Last fall, the Huntridge Theater reopened as an all-ages concert venue, re-establishing its primacy as the valley's best all-ages venue to bridge national touring acts with local bands. The Huntridge was truly the center of the local music scene in the mid-1990s, giving local musicians a chance to not only play on the same stage that has been graced by many a legendary artist, but also to hawk their wares and connect with other people in the scene. When the Mizrachi family bought the Huntridge last year, there was a lot of speculation and fear that, despite the theater's inclusion on the state and national historical registers--the stage would remain dark forever. But the Mizrachis had enough vision to reopen the Huntridge as an all-ages concert venue, investing thousands of dollars in renovations and upgrading the lighting and sound equipment. With the help of promoter Tom Anderson, the Huntridge has been packing the kids in with a full calendar of shows since November.

Artists in Las Vegas have been clamoring for years to develop the hard-worn downtown area of the city into a full-blown arts district, something that most cities have developed naturally over time. Many valley residents won't go downtown unless they have to--especially after dark. Downtown's less downtrodden businesses--art galleries, antique stores, cafes and restaurants--have been long-time favorites of the valley's arty types, but have remained mostly ignored by the outside world. First Friday has changed all of that. Modeled after similar, successful events in Portland and other cities, this monthly social arts and entertainment event has brought a real sense of place to the now officially recognized Las Vegas Arts District. Organized by Cindy Funkhouser, owner of downtown antique shop-cum-art gallery The Funk House, First Friday hit the ground running last October and has not shown any sign of slowing down. The city of Las Vegas has even thrown its weight behind the effort, providing (among other things) a free shuttle bus to carry attendees from location to location if they find walking the area too tiresome--or too dangerous.

About two months ago, we almost lost the university-area coffeehouse Café Espresso Roma. Roma is an integral part of the sparse and fragile cultural matrix that has developed in the valley over the years. Its existence has become threatened since losing some measure of business over the last year and a half or so, mostly because of a smoking ban that drove away many of its core clientele--the artists and musicians who have called Roma home for more than a decade. A few months ago, owner Sandy Boyd was ready to close down, facing not only a loss in profits, but a poor grade from the health department because of some antiquated refrigeration equipment. That would have been the end of the story if not for the diligence of Roma employees Ryan Pardey and Gary Tognetti, who have decided to raise the funds to get the café up to code so the health department will approve their purchase of it. The future is still up in the air for Café Espresso Roma, but its potential rebirth could be just another piece of the new cultural legacy that Las Vegas seems to be slowly developing.

Pj Perez is a freelance writer in Las Vegas.