Go: Where to Go, What to Do & Why

By James P. Reza

And so it goes. Last week, a writer in another of our city's alt-weeklies angrily cited the fleeting nature of "this fucking town" while lamenting the loss of the wonderfully kitschy 49-year-old Algiers motor court motel at the north end of the Strip. That the Algiers will be replaced by a condotel called Krystle Sands--a name (and spelling) whose very amphetamine-lab-in-the-garage trashiness seems to elude those who cite its $400 million cost--deepens the sting to anyone who fruitlessly wishes for the money to save Las Vegas from itself, historically speaking.

And therein lies the rub. Money, as they say, changes everything, and if my being born here has taught me anything, that is it. In Vegas, with its almost embarrassing wealth of undeveloped land and cash flow, kitsch doesn't pay the bills, particularly when the value of the land far exceeds its current use. Who among us wouldn't choose to convert our retro-style working investment into a pile of liquid assets that guarantee a comfortable future for us and our entire brood? Rest assured that if the returns on demolishing and rebuilding the Golden Nugget (385-7111) would have outweighed the initial investment by Tim and Tom, wrecking balls, and not Tony Bennett, would have marked the pair's takeover. Who is to say that won't happen tomorrow?

A few blocks south of the Algiers, the Silver City Casino (notorious, in the 1980s, as a place for the nearly-of-age to score liquor) has been demolished. Nobody, it seems, is upset that the property is in the process of being replaced by a drugstore and a discount department store. A blank two-story cinderblock wall now rubs uncomfortably against the "classic Vegas kitsch" of the Peppermill (735-4177), whose slinky cocktail lounge (replete with a bubbling, gas-flame, water-filled firepit) has made an international impact among the self-consciously hip, if no one else.

Recently, Peggy Orth, Peppermill general manager, was quoted in the Mercury as saying that the operation has just signed a new 20-year lease and renovated the property. "Do you honestly think that the owners would put a million bucks into a place that they were going to tear down?" In a word, yes. A 20-year lease has two ends, one of which instructs the owner to improve his business and keep it profitable for 20 more years. That's the end to which Ms. Orth was referring. The other end of such a long lease, unrecognized by most laymen, is the value it adds to the business if the property owner decides to sell out to the X-Stacy Condo Resort & Stripporium. The value of that lease would have to be "purchased" by a new property owner if they decided to tear down the Peppermill, and if the value of the land increases enough, there is nothing to stop the Peppermill owners from walking away with a nice pile o' buyout cash as the bulldozers move in. Just wait until Wynn Las Vegas opens and see how long anything on the north end of the Strip lasts.

Which brings us to this sad, if not predictable, bit of news. Barely six weeks ago, I spent a great deal of space in this column gushing honestly about Teatro (891-1111), a new bar at the MGM Grand. It was, as I said, a wonderful watering hole, a high-end "neighborhood bar" with all the trappings--design, music, service--of an ultralounge, but thankfully much more democratic, lacking the snooty velvet rope and uncomfortably bourgeois notion of forced bottle service. General Manager Peter Brattander said then, "We will never have a cover and never force bottle service."

As of last week, the amiable Brattander is no longer GM of Teatro, having been (rightfully) promoted to the position of wine director at the MGM. But what is good news for him is bad news for Teatro. With Brattander now elegantly ushered off the Teatro stage, the folks at Tabú (891-7183) are taking over the operation. A small, central seating area is to be ripped out and shoehorned in its stead what can only be a ridiculously tiny dance floor. The central bar is to be replaced by a platform on which dancers from the MGM's new, as-yet-unnamed Cirque show will perform (oh, how original!). The velvet ropes are coming, and seating in the joint will be by bottle service only. All this in a beautiful, comfortable, Adam Tihany-designed bar that has been open barely eight weeks. Look, we enjoy Tabú, but why does the MGM need two? So much for democracy. Money, it changes everything.

The show goes on

Despite the disappointments of last week, we also mined a few rare nuggets of goodness. At the Forum Shops' OPM (737-9700) on Sundays, for instance, is Sex, perhaps the city's only reggae- and dancehall-themed dance party. It's busy enough without being crowded, the music mix enjoyable and the vibe unusual in that it seems at least half the crowd is into the sound. And all this despite the velvet rope downstairs. Plus, with football season running up, the comfortable club (along with VIP host Osiris) will be hosting a Monday Night Football party that sets aside the dress code and takes the sports party out of the typical corner bar (or strip club) and into the ultralounge.

We're rounding the corner into fall now, and soon we'll be overrun with too many activities and not enough time. This week, thoughtful old hippies Crosby, Stills & Nash jam the Hard Rock's Joint on Friday (for a mere $53 we might add; 693-5000), while our favorite lapdance soundtrack artists Godsmack go all 1990s on our asses with a rare acoustic show at the House of Blues on Saturday (Sept. 11; 632-7600). Todd Rundgren & the Liars hit the House of Blues on Sunday (Sept. 12; 632-7600), and then on Wednesday, a host of performers will be at the Thomas & Mack for the 2004 World Music Awards, many of them performing, others just there to look good (Sept. 15; 739-3267).

And finally this week, the 25th annual San Gennaro Feast (Sept. 14-19; 286-4944) is back to celebrate what one wag overheard in my neighborhood Starbucks called "the illustrious contributions of the Italian peoples to the development of Las Vegas." In any context, he's right, of course, but we'll be there for the dozens of vendor booths hawking delish pasta, sausage, canoli...the Starbucks guy's friend asked him, "Why not a Jewish Festival? I could go set up there, we could sell matzos and whatnot." Well, next week comes our valley's wonderful Greek Food Festival--is that close enough? Probably not--and you can never have enough knishes, as far as I'm concerned.

While he's sad at the loss of the Algiers, the Sands, and yes, even the Dunes, native Las Vegan James P. Reza cannot stem the tide of progress with a laptop and a latte. E-mail the author at jpreza@cox.net.