Sep 25 2006

The Stardust: End of an Era

by Megan Edwards
Stardust memories
Stardust memories

The Stardust’s days are numbered. In a month, the doors will close, and soon it will vanish in the grand style accorded to such icons. Old Las Vegas casinos never fade away, they go out with a big bang. In the meantime, the Stardust is playing host to many a big bash. I’ve had the pleasure of attending two.

The first was a reunion for cast and crew of all the shows that have graced the Stardust’s stages over the last fifty years. Over 600 people showed up on September 10th - some from as far away as Australia - to see old friends and bid farewell to the scene of countless shows. Everybody descended on a classic Vegas buffet, and as the bars did a brisk business, the noise level in the huge banquet hall rose to rock concert levels. The roar subsided a bit when the entertainment began, a lineup featuring dance numbers and speakers from each of the five decades of the Stardust’s glittery history.

“People watching” is the polite term for what I did from my spot at a table near the back of the room. What I was really doing was - well - staring. Not only were there dozens of former showgirls in outfits that revealed their still-flamboyant assets, there were plenty of easy-to-ogle men, some of whom turned out to be dancers from the Thunder from Down Under troupe. A female impersonator was resplendent in a floor-length backless gown with a belly-button-revealing cutout in front.

At my own table, I couldn’t help admiring the leopard scarf, designer cowboy hat, and several kilos of jewelry covering the man across from me. He turned out to be none other than Monti Rock III, whose credits include a role in Saturday Night Fever and numerous appearances with Johnny Carson in the seventies. The term “colorful character” might well have been minted with Monti in mind. When you shake his hand, you are really grabbing a handful of gold, turquoise, silver and rhinestone. Every finger sported a ring that would have made Liberace drool.

Of course, not everyone was wearing rhinestones and feathers, because this was a reunion not only for those in the spotlight, but also those operating the spotlight. The crew members pretty much looked like nerds, and what they lacked in sequins and fake eyelashes, they made up for in enthusiasm. Guys in white shirts and khaki slacks were rekindling old friendships everywhere I looked. If high school reunions were this good, I’d consider attending one. By the time I left, I’d soaked up so much vicarious emotion that I couldn’t help bursting into song on my way home. Stardust memories…

And my vicarious memories had only just begun. Last night, I went to another gathering in the Stardust’s big ballroom. This was the eleventh annual Old Timer’s Reunion. Again, I really didn’t qualify because it’s supposed to be for people who’ve lived in Las Vegas for at least thirty years. Nobody does background checks, but to be on the safe side, I attended with John Tsitouras. He’s lived in Las Vegas for five decades, which makes him an old timer with enough credentials to share.

As we sat down at our table - one of nearly a hundred with ten places at each - I asked John is he was sorry to see the Stardust go.

“Yes,” he said. “This has been the place to come for a long time.” John used to work at a building in the Stardust’s shadow. His memories include ordinary business lunches along with plenty of sparkly parties. “In this very room,” he said. “Yes, I’ll miss it.”

A man named Richard Welsh was sitting on my left. A retired employee of the Stardust, he still returns on occasion to operate lights for shows. He’ll be at the light board a final time next month, when Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme will be the last performers on the Stardust’s showroom stage.

Each table was furnished with a 19-page list of all the attendees and their table numbers. Even while dinner was still being served, people were wandering the room, lists in hand, searching for old friends, former colleagues, and celebrities. I joined the milling throngs and discovered casino mogul Kirk Kerkorian, singer Phyllis McGuire, and singer-songwriter-voice coach David London. While I’m sure there were plenty of other recognizable faces in the crowd, I have a feeling that some celebrities, reluctant to get themselves labeled “old timers,” may have chosen to stay away.

After dinner, the entertainment began with veteran comic Peter Anthony, who reeled off a string of insider jokes like, “Will everyone here not under indictment please stand up,” and, “Last night I dreamed I was a statue in Lonnie Hammargren’s backyard.” Later on, he generated waves of appreciative applause by mentioning a number of old Las Vegas businesses. “Mirabelli Cleaners” and “The Jungle Club” don’t mean anything to me, but they conjured up a flood of memories among the people around me. Later, “Fine Wine,” a trio of ladies whose collective age added up to 199 years, did a dance number. Vintage impressionist Babe Pier rounded out the show.

Although the Stardust will soon lose its star and become only dust, the Old Timers Reunion will live on. Peter Anthony announced that Bill Boyd, an old timer himself and president of Boyd Gaming, has arranged for next year’s dinner to be held at another Boyd property, The Orleans. The end of the Stardust may be the end of an era, but, as always, Las Vegas goes on.

As I drove away from the Stardust last night, I realized that it wasn’t the building I was going to miss. For me, the two most memorable things about the Stardust are its sign and its name. The Stardust’s monumental marquis on the Strip is one of the best works of neon art ever created, and the name is pure romance. Echelon Place, the new multi-billion dollar project that will rise from the Stardust’s ashes, will be more glamorous, more elegant, and undoubtedly far more beautiful. Even so, I’m willing to bet that nobody will ever break into song about Echelon Place. Sorry, but that’s reserved for people with Stardust memories.

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