Tuesday, June 8, 1999 | 11:45 a.m.
When Jan Laverty Jones was hoisted to power on the shoulders of female voters and labor support eight years ago, few believed the pitchwoman for a local car dealership would bring more than shiny coating to business-as-usual Las Vegas politics.
After all, Jones' election as mayor in 1991 was -- and is -- the only time a woman served on the City Council in any capacity.
Yet as Jones readies to leave office June 28, supporters and critics alike say local history will treat her as one of the city's most memorable leaders for helping Las Vegas become more livable despite unprecedented growth and for her attention to homelessness and other social issues.
Although she is not ruling out a future political job, Jones plans to enter into a consulting business with longtime friend and Chamber of Commerce President Bob Forbuss.
"I look to stay involved, certainly in the tourism area," Jones, who refers to herself now as a "lame swan" mayor, said. "But I'm actually looking forward to where I'm not running from meeting to meeting and getting called at home up to 11 o'clock at night."
She already is viewing her two terms with the type of nostalgic gaze that makes years of accusations from critics, two gubernatorial losses and political missteps easier to swallow.
"It has been a great run," Jones, 50, said. "You couldn't have asked for anything better. I love the people and I love Las Vegas."
Jones is well respected nationally for her speeches on the city's growth and she is credited with increasing the number of Nevada women who get mammograms, due to her public battle last year with breast cancer.
But her greatest fans are counted among the city's social workers.
"It saddens me that she's leaving," Ken Robinson, director of the MASH Village homeless shelter, which Jones pushed for shortly after becoming mayor, said. "I don't think we'll get her level of commitment, although we hope we do, with her successor."
Robinson said Jones first impressed him when she listened to the concerns of homeless people and their advocates when they marched on City Hall in 1991. After Catholic Charities and the city opened MASH Village, he said, Jones still remained concerned.
"I can't think of a single time she didn't stop and listen with compassion," Robinson said of Jones' visits to MASH Village.
Joan Laverty said her daughter's penchant for care was evident when Jan was 10 and raising pigeons. A raccoon got into the cage and attacked one of the birds, leaving young Jan to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the pigeon in an effort to revive it.
Jones' friends say the mayor with six children and 10 pets always puts other people first.
"If she hears a sad story from someone and thinks she can help, she'll give them the shirt off her back," longtime friend Marsha Miller said.
She met her third husband, Richard Schuetz, when as Stratosphere chairman he spoke with her about crime concerns in the Meadows Village neighborhood behind the hotel.
But Jones, a Democrat, said her devotion to social causes, animal issues and the city's livable image are only examples of accomplishments already under her belt.
With $1.1 billion worth of construction under way downtown, Jones said it will take time for those projects to reap financial benefits for the city.
"If there is any kind of legacy it will be realized in 10 years when all of the things we're putting into effect are successes," she said.
Jones grew up wealthy in Los Angeles thanks to her family's successful Thriftimart Inc. grocery store chain. Roger Laverty said his daughter worked as a checker in one of the stores when she turned 16 and always had some type of job even while working toward a bachelor's degree in English and psychology from Stanford University.
She served as vice president of research and development for Thriftimart for 12 years and later worked for five years as president of Fletcher Jones Management Group, the car dealership owned by Jones' second husband, Fletcher "Ted" Jones Jr., and his family.
Many political observers say part of Jones' success as mayor is her successful marketing of the city -- skills she learned while touting her grocery chain's products or proclaiming, "Nobody's cheaper than Fletcher Jones" in television ads.
"She is an excellent spokesperson for the city," longtime City Councilman Arnie Adamsen, who is vying to replace Jones as mayor against front-runner Oscar Goodman, said. "She brought energy to the office that hadn't been seen before."
Mayor Pro Tem Michael McDonald also noted Jones' public speaking strengths.
"You look at how charismatic she was as mayor and you can't top it," McDonald said. "No matter where she was, at a council meeting, at a conference or seated at President Clinton's table, she was always willing to talk up the city."
Yet Jones has had regrets since her first election in 1991 by a 2-to-1 margin over then-City Councilman Steve Miller.
"The invasion of your private life is just incredible," Jones said. "Your privacy is the first thing you give away."
Miller, who is Jones' most vocal critic, still has a lawsuit pending against her alleging she used libelous campaign material in 1991. He considered running for mayor this year, but instead ran for council, in part because Jones elected not to seek a third term, leaving him without an opportunity to oppose her.
"Jones groveled and pulled out of the race before she was forced to defend her actions publicly," Miller said at the time.
Jones took some of her biggest political hits from alleged conflicts of interest.
She failed to report on city and state ethics forms until 1993 that she sold her barbecue restaurant on West Charleston Boulevard to a prominent gaming and development family, the Beckers, in 1990 and continued to vote for matters involving the Beckers during that time.
Jones was also accused of using her position as mayor and as a director of the board of Bank of America when Main Street Station was sold to Boyd Gaming Corp. in 1993. The bank owned the then-bankrupt casino at the time of her council vote to approve the sale.
In all, Jones answered to nine conflict-of-interest complaints before the state Ethics Commission. She was cleared each time.
Other criticism came when she twice put the city on the back burner to run for governor -- attempts that failed in 1994 and in 1998.
"Everybody likes the job Jan does when she's here," one city department head said, asking not to be named. "But 'here' is the operative word. It often appears that the city is not her first priority."
Jones discounts such critics, in part, by blaming "a bureaucracy that just wears you down."
In 1997, Jones proposed legislation giving the mayor veto power in an effort to tilt the power base in the city away from the city manager and toward the mayor. That legislation failed.
"You have a really flawed structure," Jones said. "You can't elect a chief operating officer and then not allow them to get something done.
"Running the city is a lot more than just planning and zoning," she added. "Until the mayor has more power, you're a second-rate city.
"I don't know a CEO in the country who would agree to rule by committee," she added. "That's what leadership is about. That's what people look for in a mayor."
But Jones isn't making such strong statements publicly about either of the candidates who are vying to replace her, famed criminal defense attorney Goodman or 12-year councilman Adamsen.
"I think they're both very good choices," Jones said.
Jones also said that whoever is elected as her successor should be ready for a hectic travel schedule and leave behind any preconceived notions of the job.
"When I came in I thought it was really like running a company," Jones said. "I was very idealistic about what could be accomplished and in what time frame."
As an example, Jones cites her desire to consolidate city and county services. Early in her first term she floated a proposal to consolidate the two park and recreation departments.
That, like other efforts to consolidate, failed.
"I learned that you really need to study to be a good politician," Jones said. "I made a lot of mistakes.
"Now that I'm really beginning to get the hang of it I'm leaving," she added. "But it's better to go out at the top. You can always come back."
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