Knievel scores again with 'more guts than brains'

Spectators leaned against an ambulance, eating popcorn from paper bags, waiting.

In front of them, the two 11-story Jockey Club hotel towers were dressed in scaffolding and topped with a motorcycle ramp.

In about an hour, Robbie Knievel would appear in a tight white leather suit with tassled cuffs to jump, via motorcycle, from the roof of one building to the roof of the other 130 feet away.

"It takes more guts than brains," said Elly Reichle, a first-time Las Vegas visitor from Cambridge, Minn., eyeballing the stunt set-up from her seat on the ambulance bumper.

"It's stupid, but it's fascinating enough to bring us here."

The enduring allure of witnessing someone else's supposed stupidity and potential death was apparently irresistible to several hundred visitors last night -- as well as to countless couchfuls of TV viewers who tuned in to watch the live (on the East Coast) Fox broadcast of the stunt, dubbed the "Death Jump."

Over the years, the father-and-son name of "Knievel" has sprung from hundreds of ramps and sailed over barrels and cars and fountains and landed in the American vocabulary, becoming a word that somehow links heroism and questionable judgment.

"I had no idea he was going to be here, but if I'd known, I would have brought my entire family," said Betty O'Brien, a vacationer from Indiana staying on the seventh floor of the Jockey Club.

She and her husband, Carl, awoke Wednesday to the sound of Knievel taking practice jumps in the parking lot, and by Thursday night, they were purchasing $20 T-shirts from the Kaptain Knievel souvenir stand.

"My grandson used to ride around on his little bike and say, 'Evil, evil, evil,' and we were so worried. We were thinking, 'How will we stop him from this "evil" business?' Then we realized he was saying 'Evel' like 'Evel Knievel,' " O'Brien said about Robbie's famous dad, who is now recovering from a recent liver transplant. "He loves the Knievels. Robbie is a hero."

Robbie stood to make about $200,000 off of the Death Jump from TV revenues, according to stunt coordinator Gary Davis.

"He'll tell you that's not enough," Davis said.

That "never enough" attitude is probably what drew the mix of Harley-riding diehards and Midwestern passers-by gathered in the Jockey Club parking lot to gaze skyward in search of a daredevil.

Just before the main event, a Fox TV production worker with a microphone began teaching the crowd how to cheer.

"Let's do a little rehearsal," he told them. "I want to hear blood-curdling screams."

Most preferred to wave at themselves on the TV monitor.

When the show began, a well-coiffed commentator in a black leather jacket stood in front of the camera and explained to America why, exactly, jumping from the top of one building to the top of another on a motorcycle is dangerous.

His rationale began with, "The relative length of the building ..." and ended three commercial breaks later with something about launch angles and gear patterns.

Halfway into the show and still Knievel-less, a young man in the crowd who had announced several times to no one in particular that he himself is "Carolina born and bred, baby," yelled, "C'mon, let's get it on, man!" His friend punctuated the remark with what may have been a hog call, then crushed a Budweiser can on his leg.

Finally, the long wait proved fruitful. As the national anthem was sung, a spotlit Knievel and a flapping U.S. flag were lifted to the top of the building by a sparkler-adorned crane. Upon his ascension, pink and green firecrackers exploded in the night sky around him. The only thing higher than Knievel was the enormous Bellagio hotel next door, from whose ornate windows well-dressed guests looked down on the escapade.

After several practice runs and a reminder from the commentator that "if he falls short, he will crash to the cement below," Knievel made the jump, no problem. The crowd dissipated, and the showman retreated to his Winnebago.

He emerged half an hour later to talk to the media. Members of a horde of news reporters and photographers, locked up in a small pen away from the star, crawled all over themselves trying to get microphones and cameras in his face when he approached. Knievel hung his thumb from his leather "RK" belt buckle and said of his record-breaking jump, "This is crazy 'cause life is crazy."

Cameras flashed and reporters asked a dozen follow-up questions such as, "At what point did you know you were in the clear?" about his 6-second jump. Eventually, Knievel ended the news conference by saying, "That's it. We're going to the Hard Rock to party."

The parking lot below the ramp was deserted, except for the big-screen TV monitors, which showed the freeze frame: "Good night from Las Vegas."

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