Columnist Melissa Schorr: Searching for tomorrow's nostalgia today

"They say that these are not the best of times, but they're the only times we've ever known ..." -- Billy Joel, "Summer, Highland Falls."

"The past was much more fun." -- Barenaked Ladies, "It's All Been Done."

By all accounts, Vegas ain't what it used to be.

Those who lived here during the "Golden Years" never seem to tire of recalling the Vegas of yore: the 15-minute crosstown drives, the $1 "chuckwagon" dinners, the days when every dealer knew your name.

This was back before the "lounge scene" was a retro notion, back when fanny packs had yet to be invented.

Sure, there was segregation, car bombings and the the tacky glow of the Champagne Tower, but, hey -- wasn't it swell?

Well, Vegas has always known how to glorify its past, if not preserve it.

But now, there is even activity on the preservation front: First, we had "Fly on the Wall," Dick Odessky's wish-you-were-there memoirs from Vegas' heyday, followed by the Tropicana's new Legends Hall of Fame, featuring gaming paraphernalia from 738 casinos. Even the R-J has chimed in with its "First 100" series of legendary Nevadans.

For those of us who were either born too late or simply got here too late (the majority of Las Vegas residents), it's hard not to feel slightly cheated.

Then again, reminiscing about the "good old days" is a prerequisite -- and perquisite -- for every generation.

So my generation will probably find something about 1990s Las Vegas to eulogize about 30 years from now. But what on earth will it be?

The perennial zoning feuds of Mr. Hatfield the Homeowner vs. Mr. McCoy the Developer? The annual Tyson get-out-of-jail comeback bouts? The days of Disneyfication?

I've been racking my brain, but so far it doesn't look too promising.

Instead of the Rat Pack dealing blackjack, we have PR flacks doling out celebrity access.

Instead of Test Site explosion parties, we have casino implosion parties.

Instead of gangsters being shot on the Strip, we have gangsta rappers being shot on the Strip.

Strangely, I think someday we'll look back fondly on the agony and ecstasy of relentless growth, the weekly discovery of what's coming next to a doorway near you: the joy of a Chuck E. Cheese, the property value disaster of a Kmart. How dull to live in a city where everything's finished.

Someday, we'll long for the days of dirt-cheap housing; for the stray tumbleweed that defiantly rolled across busy city streets.

Personally, I'm betting many will miss the last gasp of pre-kidification Vegas: those Yellow Pages "Entertainers" listings which could still show "real-life" women, rather than symbolically empty negligees. (As soon as those babies become collectors' items, I'm auctioning off my copies and making a killing.)

And for the entertainment scene, it's also unclear what will be immortalized in the same vein as the Sands was during the filming of "Ocean's Eleven."

Will it be Penn and Teller's "Sin City Spectacular?" David Cassidy's run in "EFX"? Danny Gans at the Rio, before his upcoming Aaron Spelling sitcom hit big? (hey, it could happen.) Or Cook E. Jarr at the Tap House?

One thing's for certain: Only time will tell.

archive