ZEV AND THE MGM FIRE

This past Friday November 21st, marked the 28th anniversary of the Las Vegas, MGM Grand Casino fire. Such a tragedy is nothing to celebrate or be glib about. However, the reminder of it stirred memories of what I was doing and who I was doing it with.
IT IS INCREDIBLE TO THINK THAT A DISASTER OF THIS MAGNITUDE COULD EVER HAPPEN...EVEN IN 1980. EIGHTY-SEVEN PEOPLE DIED IN THE BLAZE.

Oddly, in the five years I lived in Las Vegas (1979-1984), I had more friends, family etc come visit me than my 25 years in Atlantic City. Also out west, I accidentally crossed paths with more acquaintances and people I barely knew from back home than here in Jersey. What makes all this more astounding is that I am, as I hope you know, a New Yorker.

When I had visitors in Vegas, Caesar's Palace was their number one requested destination. However, I always included the original MGM Grand (caddy corner across Flamingo Road) in the tour. Aside from being more sophisticated (less gaudy than Caesar's), it was a more comfortable casino. Other pluses were; free self-parking right out front, movie memorabilia adorned its walls, they had a jai alai fronton and a plush theater that showed classic MGM movies (featuring couches and cocktail service).

Additionally, outside the movie box office, there was a roped off area with "Leo" the live (heavily sedated) MGM mascot lion.  He was injected with enough barbiturates that he could hardly keep his eyes open...therefore roaring was totally out of the question. Although I never took advantage of this gimmick, tourists would line-up down the corridor to have their picture taken with the king of the cinema beasts, (considering what happened to Siegfried's Roy, I can only imagine the liability insurance these days).

The MGM also had more celebrities hobnobbing and gambling there...on one afternoon, I had the good fortune to meet Sylvester Stallone, Richard Dawson and Soupy Sales (although Soupy was the only one who gave me the time of day).

The allure of the MGM  must have included better deals on rooms because a disproportional amount of my visitors stayed there. My closest friend from Brooklyn College, Zev, was dating the daughter of a bread crumb magnate from back home. Her dad was such a high-roller that he included Zev in his travels to Vegas. Then Zev got them to include me in a dinner at the MGM's gourmet French restaurant, (a party of 20+ folks).

Zev's visit was great but what was far more interesting was his next visit...except the second time, he didn't stay at the MGM.

About a year earlier (March 1980), I was hired as a craps dealer at the Stardust Casino. As I have chronicled in my writings, my year and a half at the "Dust" was a tremendous professional experience as well as my vehicle to come of age. Back then I wrote a lot of letters to my friends which were filled with my odd-ball adventures. And Zev was a regular recipient.

Zev was going to med-school in Tampico Mexico at that time. To this day, I have no idea what doubt and/or negativity he was experiencing...but the impact of my letters brought him...without prior notice...with all his belongings...to knock on my door.

My disenchanted friend was lured by upbeat stories that included; the condo I bought, my "new" used car, a "great" job and a girlfriend.  So based on my skyrocketing outlook on life, the genius quit med-school...to be a casino dealer!

I felt guilty and tried to talk him down but he was definite. Zev never shared any specifics of why he sabotaged his future (I guessed the schooling was too difficult). He was never really the scholastic type so after a day or two, his being there seemed natural.

Zev was foreign.  His family moved to the USA in the late 60's.  Therefore many things he said and did proved that he lived in a cultural void. Nevertheless, his lack of good old All-American common sense was made-up by his ability to concentrate on a single task (school exams) and do well...even though a week later, it seemed that he could never put that test knowledge to practical use.

Zev became my roommate. His lack of day-to-day brilliance was typified when he took my friend Frank's temperature. When Zev stated the degrees in Celsius, Frank said, "So do I have a fever, or what?" Zev shrugged because he couldn't convert the degrees to Fahrenheit. Then after a long search FOR a textbook and then a longer search IN it, he found the solution.

I was working swing-shift, usually 8:PM till 4:AM. So Zev adjusted his body-clock and we had a lot fun gallivanting around town. Soon, he signed-up for craps dealer school.  When he graduated, he filled-out casino employment applications and took auditions.

At noon on November 21, 1980, I woke up to an empty house. I turned on the TV and there was a special report.  The anchorman started, "A fire during the early morning hours has swept through the Las Vegas MGM Casino..." While I slept, heroic Zev drove to the scene and helped the emergency teams, assisted in the triage and even gave someone mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!

Although the constant behest of his family never re-motivated him, I've always believed that the MGM fire rekindled Zev's desire to return to med-school.

I am happy to report that "DOCTOR ZEV" has now been an anesthesiologist for over twenty years. In 1984, he was the best man at my wedding. Unfortunately, time and miles got in our way and I haven't seen him since before Andrew was born.

Through the miracle of the Internet, I have his new business address and will contact him during the holidays as well as two other long lost school friends (Jay and Mitch), in the hopes of revitalizing old friendships. Wish me luck.

In honor of Zev, one of the most genuine and generous people I ever met HAPPY THANKSGIVING to you all.

MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND'S 100th EDITION

A momentous moment indeed; MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND celebrates it's 100th blog.

In case you're curious, the idea for this web-page was inspired by RFOUR in December 2006. We met once, three years ago, at a writers club meeting in Mays Landing. We continued an E-Mail correspondence and he recommended this free web-page service, "BLOGSPOT." He suggested blogspot because it could centralize my written material and be a venue for new ideas . Ergo, MGTP develped as a free-association outlet for me and an entertainment forum for you(s). More so, it's an exercise to keep me writing while getting me accustomed to Monday deadlines. When you take a look back into my 2006 archives, you'll see my first blogs were a synopsis for each of my (20) short stories, (2) screenplays and novel. Hopefully, you'll also see an elovution/improvement in my style and ability.

Now, 100 entries later MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND has blossomed into a weekly brain purge of my experiences and insights. I enjoy researching life's trivialities and get so much more joy from the positive response of my readership.

In honor of my blog's 100th edition, I will incorporate the number 100 into an aspect of my life that few people know about. Back in '82, I dealt craps at the Las Vegas Club and recognized casino burn-out in myself for the first time. For those of you familiar with my short stories, the Las Vegas Club is where,"AGNES CARMICHAEL OF THE CARMICHAEL CALIFORNIA CARMICHAEL'S ," took place.

THE ULTIMATE CASINO TOILET, 70's ERA POSTER OF VEGAS CLUB

I've heard it said that; You don't know what you got till its gone...well, it's completely true especially in regard to my reaction to getting fired by the Stardust Casino January 10, 1982.

When I got cut loose, the nation's economy was suffering through a recession and Las Vegas was feeling it too. I didn't realize how good the Stardust was until I found out how scarce decent jobs were. I called in old "markers" (favors) but all I got were apologies. So I tried worse and worse casinos and soon wound up downtown. In all, six weeks passed before I *accidentally got myself hired at one of the most abysmal abysses in town, the Las Vegas Club, (18 Fremont Street).

* You'll have to read the Carmichael story to understand why it was accidental.

THE VEGAS CLUB HAS "ENJOYED" SEVERAL FACE-LIFTS DOWN THROUGH THE YEARS--BUT I'M TOLD, IT'S STILL A TERRIBLE JOB.

I toiled at the Las Vegas Club for nine months. It's really easy to get down on yourself when you get that sinking, under-employed feeling in a place referred to by many as, a toilet. Weakened, suppressed, depressed and burnt-out, I was an easy mark for the most ruthless, evil and conniving predator. Was it DRUGS?...no, ALCOHOL?...no, DEGENERATE GAMBLING?...no. The horrible truth was...I was approached, lured and tempted...by multi-level marketers.

Disguised in a neatly wrapped presentation called AMWAY, I was a part of a group of suckers who were looking for an easy sky-rocket to success. In case you don't know, Amway sells household products and get individuals to hawk the company's wares to their friends, coworkers etc. It's called multi-level marketing because people on the levels above you get a percentage of your payment. So it behooves you to enlist your own people to be under you, so you "earn" a percentage of what they make.

Amway, as they phrased it; sell the sizzle rather than the steak. You don't realize at the time but that pretty much means; they have NOTHING to sell...then through thought manipulation, the mind by-passes the necessary slow hurdles of achievement and concentrates on the end goal; wealth. New recruits are inundated with a litany of incredible but true, "rags-to-riches" stories. So, Joe Blow from East-West Kidney Arkansas really did earn $200,000.00 his first year and Mary O'Leary, confined to a wheelchair, really makes a thousand a week in less than five hours. But what Amway doesn't tell you is that there are realtively few success stories out of the gazillions of schmoes who for a short time, sold (and bought Amway crap for themselves) and failed.

Selling household products doesn't change anything...Amway is just a fancy version of a pyramid scheme. Luckily for me, I recognized the ridiculousness of peddling expensive soap and never got involved.

My Vegas Club "sentence," working for a fourth of what I made at the Stardust, drearily crept along. I was dealing their "big" game, a one dollar minimum table, (the one other game was 75c...these minimums didn't even change on holidays). The pay was three bucks an hour and our tips averaged about $23.00/day. So when I got approached a second time by different multi-marketers...I was ripe for the taking.

Obscured by polished attache case toting "professionals" sincerely preaching their well-rehearsed company doctrine, this scam required its suckers to become licensed Nevada life insurance salesman. I took the bait and pictured my ton of acquaintances from the Stardust, other casinos, friends and neighbors...and fantasized, that they would line up to buy insurance. I then figured, by word of mouth, I could build my empire and escape casino drudgery and become a respected and successful man.

I remember one doubting friend say, "Life insurance salesman? You're going from one tough racket to another...why bother." Others avoided me like the plague. Even worse, I soon realized that this company, A. L. Williams, was nothing more than a clever pyramid operation. (Yes, a very small percentage of individuals did do well but overwhelmingly, people FAIL)!

Embarrassed by this revelation, I still persevered. While waiting to pass my licensing exams, I was "permitted" to introduce new recruits to the program. I apologized to my group leader when only three of the seven showed up for their introduction meeting. The leader smiled and said, "Don't worry three is still good...besides, around here, if you throw enough crap (he didn't say crap) on the wall, something will stick.

He called my people crap and indirectly called me crap too. I wish I had quit at that moment but I was influenced by dollar signs and a dynamic guy I brought in who I thought would make me a ton of money.

Shortly there after, I sold my first policy to a former Stardust coworker. For a share of my commission, I was provided with a sponsor who guided me through the process. I watched and learned but soon decided that this occupation was not for me. Plus, there was a hundred item health questionnaire that took forever to fill out. Most items were answered with a simple no. However, the fifteen minutes of questioning after each "yes" was boring and (to me) an invasion of privacy.

We were about three-quarters through when I started to read ahead. I was so confident that the next ten questions would be "no" that I joked to myself; I'll quit if he says "yes" to any of them. Minutes later after saying "no" to a question involving a history of lunacy in his family, my client was asked, "Are you missing any limbs?" My wry smile vanished when he said, "Do toes count?" And I was ready to slash my wrists with a rusty razor blade when the sponsor said, "Of course!" I was stunned! My friend had a toe amputated when he was in Ethiopia while in the army. AND! He couldn't remember dates, the hospital, doctors names or which commanding officer was involved. He vanished into his attic to look for twenty-year old paperwork and came back empty handed. At that point my sponsor said, "That's okay. We'll go back to the office and Steve'll make some calls."

The hellish afternoon seemed finally over. At the front door with premium check in hand we said our good-byes. All I could think was; how am I going to tell them; I QUIT! The client opened the door, looked over his shoulder and whispered, "Good, my wife finally went upstairs...remember that question about the 'clap.' Well, about ten years ago..." If I killed him at that second, at least he would have been covered!

My insurance selling career was over. Today there's no place in my heart for regrets because that would be the same concept of their brain-washing tactic but in reverse.

My only hope is that you never have to spill your guts on 100 personal questions to an acquaintance...unless you have lunacy in your family...that's always good for a laugh.

Thanks for reading...MGTP is nothing without you(s).

TOY LANDMINES

In observance of Veteran's Day, I would like to thank everyone who has fought and served our country as well as their families. It is difficult to remain glib when speaking of the military especially with the ongoing Iraq situation...plus new threats all around us. But there was a time in my nearly forgotten youth that war seemed glamorous and fun.

With the threat of a nuclear holocaust all around me, at the height of my skewed idealism, (I was ignorant to the harsh realities of life), I saw a great honor in the concept of man-on-man warfare. You can prove this by excavating my mother's flower beds and backyard lawn where, circa 1962, I buried dozens of plastic army soldiers who died in my fantasy battles. After all these years, I specifically remember rehashing (many times) a sequence from the WWII movie, "A WALK IN THE SUN." In that scene, GI's hide on each side of a road and bombard a passing German half-track.

During that period, I was also influenced by the TV show, "COMBAT." It had a six-year, 152 episode run that lasted until after the 1967 season. Originally shot in black and white, Combat gained popularity with a gritty realistic depiction of an infantry platoon fighting in Europe.

In his most memorable role, actor Vic Morrow portrayed Chip Saunders, the All-American, no-nonsense sergeant. You may recall he died in a helicopter accident while filming the 1982 movie version of the, "TWILIGHT ZONE." COMBAT was so good, that the other networks produced less compelling "knock-offs;" "THE GALLANT MEN," "RAT PATROL," and "GARRISON'S GUERRILLAS."

EVERY KID ON MY BLOCK WANTED TO BE A HERO LIKE SGT. SAUNDERS

Army shows spurred us kids to play "war" at night. Our street became a great battleground and every neighbor's bushes, yard, garden, shed and garage were incorporated into our games. In retrospect, because of today's intolerance towards guns as play-things, isn't it ironic to consider the arsenal of toy weapons we had. I had (amongst others) a cap-gun firing machine gun ala Sergeant Saunders. I also had a pearl (plastic) handled six-shooter, like "THE LONE RANGER" but that, as you might expect was used strictly for playing cowboys and Indians.

My friend Jason had a projectile firing toy bazooka and several GI Joe's (the original action figure...they were NOT dolls and the added paraphernalia were uniforms and gear...NOT a wardrobe and accessories)! Down the street, Ira had a rocket launcher that shot plastic grenades and he had his uncle's authentic naval helmet...plus, way before they were popular, army fatigue pajamas. Another, kid named *Jonny had a pre-transformer gadget that was aptly called, the "THE JOHNNY ACTION EIGHT RIFLES IN ONE." I was actually jealous that there wasn't a "steve" gun. Of course I was seven, so don't judge my value system too hard...even if I did think toy landmines were a great idea...ah, kids!

*Jonny also had a real (broken) policeman's service revolver. Even though it weighed a ton, he kept it tucked in his pants and rarely let us use it.

Somewhere along the line, we poked our heads out of the atomic bomb shelters and the Vietnam-era started...abruptly bursting our man-on-man war bubble. By the mid-60's, boys a few years older than us were being shipped to a place they never heard of, for a cause that was never made clear. Far worse, too many of them never came back. I was lucky because I didn't directly know anyone who went. Even luckier, I became eligible for the draft, the first year the war was over.

In the last years of the war, Selective Service used a lottery system and selected draftees by birthdays. In 1973, my first year of eligibility, even though they weren't sending anyone any more, they kept the lottery in place, in case the goop hit the fan.

To make it fair, they scrambled the 365 birthdays and randomly? assigned each day with a number. Hypothetically, if April 1st was chosen first, every one with that birthday was number one. This process would go on until each birthday was given a number. The general rule was if you were a 200 or higher, you were safe. Those in the 100's were iffy and anything lower was guaranteed to go. My original draft card, (I still have it as a wry souvenir) included my lottery number...16! That meant I would have had a front row seat on the troop carrier's first flight over.

1973 DRAFT CARD - ON THE FOURTH LINE DOWN, YOU CAN SEE THIS MAN'S NUMBER WAS 152...HE PROBABLY HAD A FIFTY-FIFTY SHOT TO GO !

If you ever have the time, in Washington D. C., visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Its an eye-opening jolt to the waste and horror of an unnecessary war. Designed by Maya Lin to be elegantly simple, it is hidden intentionally? along the great mall, amongst an innocent copse of trees, near the Lincoln Memorial, (across the street, to the left of the Reflecting Pool). Its aesthetic qualities include a subliminal walk down into a mass grave. Today, thirty-five years later, you can count on a continuous flow of mourners as well as personal messages attached to the long granite wall that bears the etched-in names of all the fallen servicemen and women.

A SECTION OF THE VIETNAM VETERANS MEMORIAL

Its unfortunate, because I think we'll see peace on earth before we ever see children playing army back in vogue. With that in mind, please, regardless of the politics that has...and is putting our people in harm's way, take a moment to reflect and thank those who have sacrificed their time, energy and lives to support our way of life and freedom.

EDITOR'S NOTE - Today's blog marks

MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND'S 99th edition. Thanks for your interest, comments and support...Steve

MY PAINFUL ELECTION DAY

If you are as old as I am, you'd know the phrase; "DON'T BLAME ME, I VOTED FOR McGOVERN," referred to President Richard Nixon's unpopularity. With that in mind, I envision savvy speculators to be investing in tee-shirts, bumper stickers etc bearing that sentiment with both Obama and McCain on them, (to prove my conviction to political correctness, kindly disregard the order of the candidate's names).

Tomorrow, I'm facing some dental surgery. Its an inconvenient, uncomfortable and painful ordeal but, a necessary evil...that as an adult...whether I want to or not...must be faced. Similarly tomorrow, I (we) have the rare once in four-year privilege of voting for president...which in this case could be also inconvenient, uncomfortable and painful.

This is the first presidential election that my son Andrew and I are discussing the important issues of the day. We compare McCain and Obama as best we can and try to make a salient decision on who serves our (the nation's) needs best. But like a sick joke, the race for head-honcho is difficult because both candidates are equally distasteful .

I wish there was a clear-cut choice because I try to instill in my son the concept of decisiveness but I can't make up my mind. Here we are on the eve of this opportunity to elect the leader (commander and chief) of our great county, the single most influential individual on the planet and we are stuck with a coin-flip, on a pair of duds. I hate the idea that the election has been reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils. Even worse, many people are being swayed by the prospect of which vice-presidential candidate would make the better executive if the goop ever hit the fan.

In this regard, Andrew, in an attempt to bridge yesterday's ridiculousness of Halloween with tomorrow's sublime nature of Election Day...has uniquely combined his decisive endorsement with a fashion statement--

WOULDN'T YOU AGREE, SARAH PALIN, EMBELLISHED WITH JUST A COUPLE OF SWEAT SOCKS, LOOKS RATHER BUSTY IN PERSON

THE MAIN ISSUES ON PALIN'S CHEST ARE; I BRAKE FOR MOOSE, I CAN SEE RUSSIA FROM MY HOUSE, I'M NOT TINA FEY and LOVE, PEACE & HOCKEY MOMS

CAUGHT IN A CANDID MOMENT BY THE PAPARAZZI, PALIN DISCUSSES HER "OPEN-DOOR" POLICY WITH THE FIRST DUDE.

ON HER WAY OUT, PALIN PROMISED ALASKAN UGGS IN EVERY CLOSET FOR THE WOMEN AND BUNS OF STEEL IN THE WHITE HOUSE FOR EVERY MAN.

Honestly, I tried to persuade him to dress as Joe Biden but alas, despite my homophobia, Andrew was adamant and decisively stuck to his choice for vice president. Hopefully, there aren't any lingering yearnings here that need to be addressed.

Personally, between the cross-dressing and the election, I might be better served to spend ALL of tomorrow with the dentist...and go with anesthetics.