WHEN ART IMITATES ART

An aspect of the 1970 Mel Brooks movie, "THE TWELVE CHAIRS," includes a beggar going through the village crying out, "Epilepsy, epilepsy!" Later we find out that he lived among a sub-culture of beggars who preferred this method of work to actually working. In private, these "bums" tried to concoct new ways to promote them self as the most destitute...hence more worthy of sympathy...in the form of alms, (donations).

I grew up in New York City and always wondered if the blind guys in the subway were faking. From that I developed an everyone's got their hand in your pocket mentality. When I moved to Las Vegas in 1979, I saw it was a way of life and that creative mooching was rampant. One of the big reasons was the hobo's shantytown hidden in an enormous train yard behind the Union Plaza Casino.

Hobos rode freight trains to Las Vegas. It was a perfect spot because Vegas combined year-round warm weather with give-aways and inexpensive food. More importantly there was a steady stream of gamblers to sponge-off, who were free and easy with their chump change.

The value of the land skyrocketed after I left town (1984) and urban renewal was set in motion. The vast majority of the transients vanished after the shantytown was eliminated and the train yard was developed. Also, the slum-like streets near the casino center, (Fremont Street), were razed and replaced with real estate offices, lawyers, banks and other new businesses to support their needs.

When I vacationed in Las Vegas last month, I found these changes stunning. The crowning touch of these downtown improvements is called the FREMONT STREET EXPERIENCE.

Located along the first five westernmost blocks of Fremont Street, an awning...more specifically a 90-foot high barrel vault canopy, was completed on December 14, 1995. It provides shade to a pedestrian mall below (Fremont Street) which is also the main pipeline to the Glitter Gulch casinos, (Golden Nugget, Horseshoe, Fremont etc).

BY DAY, FREMONT STREET (looking west towards Main Street) BUSTLES WITH ACTIVITY. KIOSKS SELL ANYTHING YOU CAN IMAGINE. THE ILLUSION OF BEING INDOORS IS COMPLETED BY THE STRONG AIR-CONDITIONING ESCAPING INTO THE STREET FROM EVERY DOORWAY.

In addition to traditional vendors, the Fremont Street Experience had; a balloon-animal clown, a spieler selling time shares, a magician, strolling mariachi band and an artist. We found this artist particularly interesting. Crowds encircled him as he painted on an easel that was attached to a lazy-Susan atop a regular table. This format made it possible for even a little kid to watch.

He used spray paint mixed with oils on a "canvas" that was a solid, light-weight, 24 x 18-inch plastic sheet. The masterpiece we saw him create featured a babbling brook in front of a split log fence, framed by forests of fir trees. In the background, the star-studded night sky and bright moon reflected on the scene below.

The painter spun the canvas and sprayed, dabbed and added definition with a set of knife-like tools. Six other similarly styled finished products surrounded his work station. The price was $39.00 or 2 for $65.00. The sign on the partially filled tip-jar read: "STRUGGLING ARTIST FUND."

In New York, this demonstration would be a pick-pocket's paradise. At one point I checked my wallet and surveyed the congregation. I had all my stuff and nobody looked suspicious.

My mind wandered to my dad. He was an artist and would have appreciated this five minute show. Hell, even Van Gogh would have turned over in his grave for a better look at this guy in action.

We loved the one he was working on and were tempted to buy it. Only we didn't want to schlep it around and we knew our hands were already full to get back on the plane.

In a final crescendo filled with theatrics, the artist spun and dabbed and etched in such a feverish pace that our heads spun as much as the lazy-Susan. When he stopped, like magic, the landscape was suddenly finished. You'd think he was Salvador Dali when the gallery erupted in applause and whistling.

AT NIGHT, BIGGER CROWDS COME TO SEE THE EXCITING LASER LIGHT SHOW SET TO MUSIC, PROJECTED ONTO THE BOTTOM OF THE CANOPY. THERE ARE ALSO TWO SOUND-STAGES THAT FEATURE ORGANIZED (usually free) CONCERTS. THE BIG NEW YEAR'S EVE PARTY THERE HAS BECOME A VEGAS TRADITION.

We stayed four nights downtown and each morning I did my power-walk. You get a false sense of comfort under the canopy because when you get out into the sunshine (at 7AM it was always at least 90 degrees), you want to die. The heat is staggering and with no shade, there's no place to hide.

THE UNBEARABLE HEAT OF PRE-CANOPY FREMONT STREET, (1983). BACK THEN, IN THE STYLE OF "AMERICAN GRAFFITI," IT WAS A BIG DEAL FOR HIGH SCHOOL DRIVERS TO CRUISE "GLITTER GULCH" ON FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHT.

While I was walking east along Charleston Boulevard, I discovered that the slums are still there. Despite the urban renewal adjacent to the hub of downtown, away from the action, homeless people slept in the shade of tattered shrubs, countless drunks wandered around and other poor folks whose Vegas dreams never materialized watched me chug by.

Some desperate people become low-level casino hustlers. They hope for simple freebies like, liquor, cigarettes, food or abandoned slot machine vouchers.

Being a 30-year casino employee, I am sensitive to higher level hustlers. These hucksters/grifters/scam artists etc., look to "earn" a free gambling stake by manipulating the weak or less savvy gamblers. Most use hard luck stories but others sell get-rich systems, are prostitutes, loan sharks etc. Luckily I didn't encounter any of that.

What I did encounter was surprising. Away from the casinos, in mundane places like; stores, parking lots and gas stations, a new form of pan-handling was going on. I guess with the economy in the toilet...unemployment in Las Vegas is at an all-time high...many clean-cut people make up the hordes of a new generation beggars. Very sad.

Later, we went back into the big strip hotels. On our way to the Wynn Casino there was a broad alley between Harrah's and the Flamingo. Similar to the downtown pedestrian mall, this area was crammed with booths selling anything you could imagine. Therefore it was a shock to see another "struggling artist" with the EXACT same set-up, EXACT same prices and EXACT same paintings.

I'm guessing there was some sort of template going on because the painting were NOT similar, they were the same! I'm glad I didn't buy one and I felt dirty for dragging my father's memory into association with that crap. And forget about poor Van Gogh's ear, chances are, he would have cut his head off after seeing that.