Columnist John Katsilometes: Old money underlines new Resort

John Katsilometes' column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Reach him at 259-2327 or [email protected].

If the Resort at Summerlin were your Uncle Ralph, you might want to give it a little nudge. Make sure it's awake.

Summerlin's first full-blown casino is a sleepy but dignified place. The classic din of casino revelry -- noisy craps tables and shouts from crowded lounges -- has been replaced by a low, conversational hum. Guests leisurely circle the casino floor, in no hurry to see wild attractions like dueling pirates or fake volcanos.

Those of us who live in Summerlin were worried about the $276-million Resort, its 540 rooms and 50,000-square-foot casino. Would it be too big, too loud and too flashy for our understated community?

No way. Whatever's going on at the Resort won't keep us up nights. Compared with the next-closest "neighborhood" resort just five miles away, Arizona Charlie's, we should be relieved by the Resort's tranquility.

If the Resort is drowsy Uncle Ralph, Charlie's is the jumpy cousin who keeps the family awake all night playing Donkey Kong.

Earlier this week the disparity between the Resort and Charlie's was evident at the Resort's couch-filled Ringside Bar sports book. Two young women were watching a baseball game and during a commercial break a voice-over intoned about "Michael Jordan's thrill pack."

"What's that?" one woman said. The other replied, "I don't know, but it sounds good to me!"

If a woman were to say that at Charlie's, the assembled gaming (and gamy) practitioners would be ready with an off-color rejoinder. But at the Resort it was coldly silent.

We had slipped into the No Hijinks Zone.

The Resort has been forthright in its marketing strategy, which in essence is, "Bring Us Your Rich, Retired Golfers." The embodiment of the ideal Resort guest would be a well-tanned septuagenarian wearing Hagar slacks, a $140 Jhane Barnes shirt and lugging a Callaway golf bag. He'd be gripping a slot club card in one hand and a thick money clip in the other.

The Resort is filled with such folks, who quietly play high-limit table games -- a $2,000-a-hand baccarat game was in operation one night last week -- or yank the handles of $5 slot machines. The play is big, but the players' composed demeanor makes it obvious they aren't shredding the grandkids' trust funds.

Entertainment is not a primary attraction at the Resort. It does offer a 100-seat lounge, Addison's, dimly lit and draped in crimson velvet. But it's a secondary feature where the music is serene and soft. A few minutes in Addison's can cause even the most energetic soul to yawn and crick his neck.

Although in operation for more than a week, the Resort is far from full bloom. The Regent Grand Spa has 200 of 286 rooms -- less than half the hotel's capacity -- available at an introductory rate of $149 per night. The Regent Grand Palms and the balance of the 540 rooms are due to open Sept. 30, when the rates leap to $345 for standard rooms, $500-$600 for suites.

By then the Paseo de Vida, with its marketplaces and six restaurants (ranging from J.C. Wooloughan's Irish pub to Hamada of Japan's Japanese cuisine) will be ready. So will the Aquae Sulis spa, where guests will be pampered for a price.

But already, the Resort's identity is firmly established. All that old money makes for a mellow place.

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