Thursday, January 15, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Blast from the past

Historic Las Vegas Gun Club holds its ground amid tide of growth

By Andrew Kiraly

Looking back, it was kind of unfair the way Hunter S. Thompson--arriving on what was then the outskirts of Las Vegas to cover the famous Mint 400 off-road race--noted the alarming, nonstop crack of guns.

"Of course," Thompson writes in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. "The Mint Gun Club! These lunatics weren't letting anything interfere with their target practice. Here were about a hundred bikers, mechanics and assorted motorsport types milling around in the pit area, signing in for tomorrow's race, idly sipping beers and appraising each other's machinery--and right in the middle of all this, oblivious to everything but the clay pigeons flipping out of the traps every five seconds or so, the shotgun people never missed a beat."

It might not be the most even-handed characterization. Sure, on a recent Saturday morning, shooting enthusiasts line the stations during a league contest, picking off clay targets, or "traps." But there's nothing oblivious or lunatic about them. Indeed, what today calls itself the Las Vegas Gun Club--run by award-winning shooter Steve Carmichael--has taken aim at being a good neighbor. After all, new stucco-armored subdivisions and their attendant SUVs seem to be creeping closer by the day.

"We have good relations with the surrounding neighborhoods," says Carmichael, the club's president. "For instance, we have the developers put information about the gun club in their literature, so new residents know about it. There are no surprises."

Outside, lined up along cement walkways, the men shout "Pull!" Activated by their voices, the bunker flings a trap into the air, at a more or less random trajectory. The men aim, shoot--and mostly hit. Today, out of 100 clay traps, shooting enthusiast Arnie Silverdale nails 97.

So what's the fun in shooting clay targets?

"It's a lot like golf," says Silverdale, who got hooked on the sport 15 years ago. "You're competing against yourself. It's very satisfying to try to beat your own best score."

The club is based on a 73-acre spread, which LVGC leases from the state, and has about 430 members (membership is open to the public; nonmembers are welcome, but must pay a slightly higher price). But considering the constant growth in the northwest and the club's increasingly high public profile, Carmichael says some changes might be in store for the unassuming shooters' club. One of them concerns the Red Moose, the bar/restaurant that is open the same days the gun club is, Wednesdays through Saturdays.

"There are mixed feelings about the bar," Carmichael says of the small gathering area that he says decades ago operated as full-blown casino. "We've struggled with the idea of it. While it does serve as the social center for the club, people get nervous when they hear 'shooting range' and 'bar' in the same sentence. It's nice to have private functions, but we're not in the bar business."

Already, Carmichael has made minor changes to pre-empt any negative perceptions. For instance, on Wednesday nights, which are league nights, alcohol isn't served until 8 p.m.--after the shooting is done.

But even with the presence of a bar, there are none of Thompson's "lunatics" here, just gentlemen, old and young alike, looking to test their aim.

"It's exciting," says Clyde Stice, 73, a "farm boy" who grew up shooting guns. "You're around a different class of people."