A cut above the rest

Testing:

National Testing Day for American Mensa Ltd. is Nov. 13. To register for the IQ test, call 739-0983. There is a $30 fee.

Those who imagine a gathering of Mensa minds as a group of impersonal intellectuals having tea at a private club should stop in at Hot Shots on Tropicana Avenue and Pecos Road any Wednesday night.

At well past happy hour, members of Southern Nevada Mensa are swilling sodas and beers, eating chicken fingers and throwing clever one-liners into the smoky haze.

The "upper 2 percents" -- known for scoring in the upper 2 percent of the general population on a standard intelligence quotient test -- are having a good time.

"There's a general impression that we're snobs," says 65-year-old Will Cavanaugh, as the jukebox blares out the Doors' "Don't You Love Her Madly." "That's absolutely not true."

Locally the high-IQ society has a membership of 200. And with Nov. 13 being the group's National Testing Day, members are hoping for "fresh meat." Testing will take place from 10 a.m. to noon at the home of Judy Jetter, Southern Nevada Mensa president.

There are a lot of perks to being a Mensan, according to Ann Stewart, a past president. "You get to meet a lot of interesting people and Mensans love to talk."

Mensa formed in England in 1946. Its three purposes were to identify and foster human intelligence for the benefit of humanity; encourage research in the nature, characteristics and uses of intelligence; and provide a stimulating intellectual and social environment for members.

This is done through lectures, discussions, journals, special-interest groups and gatherings.

Locally the group meets twice weekly for happy hour and on weekends at Barnes and Noble. Its monthly meetings have specialized guest speakers on topics ranging from Las Vegas history to clinical hypnosis.

Its special-interest groups have varied interests, such as Sinister Sliding Stones Studies that looks at the mystery of the sliding stones on the Racetrack Playa in Death Valley, Calif. Bad Movie Night includes scores of bad movies, each cued to the worst scene. Also offered is a monthly newsletter.

You don't have to be a nuclear physicist or math theorist to be a member -- passing the IQ test is the only requirement.

"We had a guy who was barely making it as a night clerk at a motel," George Appleton, a retired schoolteacher and charter member, said. "We've had a cab driver -- to Mensans, the job is not how you define yourself."

"Theoretically we're in the top 2 percent of the IQ range, which means ... we're good at taking tests."

All kidding aside, the thing about Mensa is that you can talk to anybody about anything and they understand you and you understand them, Appleton said.

The test is nothing scientific, Stewart added. "It's common sense and problem solving."

The tests are timed. Questions may be similar to this sample: "Sally likes 225 but not 224; she likes 900 but not 800; she likes 144 but not 145. Does she like 1600 or 1700?"

Those who pass the test generally have an IQ of at least 138-140, Stewart said.

Mensans share the same interests as everyone else, Jetter said. "The difference is that when we meet we encourage one another to discuss a wide range of topics.

"I believe the main reason we band together is for the challenge of idea and information exchange at a speed and depth that may be uncomfortable to non-Mensans," she added.

"Mainly we sit around and tell lies and see if anybody else can figure it out," says Terry Moran, wearing a T-shirt reading, "I are a Mensan."

"We take a general topic and break it down to absurdity," he adds jokingly.

Moran took the test years ago after his wife had taken it and passed.

"It became a matter of 'I better take the test or I won't win any arguments,' " he said jokingly.

Since then he's found a sense of belonging with the group.

"There is a camaraderie that is very difficult to explain. "You've got to remember, we're freaks. We're in the upper 2 percent. We have to try to fit into a world that doesn't perceive things the way we do."

It could be something as the obscure one-liners that most Mensa members understand or the relief from not having to explain things three different times, he added.

"This is a family," Moran said. "If you leave the state and go to a Mensa function, it's like being home."

The affinity with other members is also true for William Raley, a systems analyst for the county whose hobbies include finding better algorithms for congressional redistricting.

"The people here might not find me entertaining but they might understand what I'm talking about," Raley, who speaks five languages, said.

While some members hold doctorates, others, such as Moran, never finished high school. He's worked at service stations, in factories rebuilding VW engines. He's moved furniture, been a truck driver and plumber. When he moved to Las Vegas, he got into the air-conditioning business then later became a computer-systems analyst.

Now retired, he refers to himself as a builder of Samaritan boats. His theory, he says, is that Samaritans sailed into the wind.

Moran founded the Sliding Stones interest group six years ago.

He and others recently returned from their annual Halloween trip to Death Valley, where they also visited the Phoenix intaglio and were sharing their stories. Archaeology and petroglyphs are a big topic at local Mensa gatherings, Stewart said.

Any member can form an interest group on any topic.

Appleton is one of four charter members of Southern Nevada Mensa who started the Las Vegas group in 1965.

At the time he had to drive to Phoenix for the nearest test location. "I just wanted to know if I was smart enough to pass the test," he said.

"I think there's as many reasons (for taking the test) as there are people."

Stewart says she took the test on a dare.

Will Cavanaugh, federal probations officer, took the test 16 years ago. He wanted to see if his brain cells had died.

"I had no preconceived notions," he said. "I just wanted to see if I could pass it." He was shocked to find that he could.

Although he holds a master's degree in criminal justice administration, he's no math whiz. "I had six weeks of algebra in the seventh grade."

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