LAS VEGAS — The rust has taken over now, fading the old red and yellow casino sign. Broken lightbulbs that once formed bright beams of neon struggle to hang onto an era long past.
Warped signs and lone letters have languished in this boneyard for years, discarded when another generation's casinos were demolished to make way for towering new mega-resorts.
Soon the signs will have a new home, where tourists can see them and remember the city's neon history. The lucky ones will be chosen to glow once again.
"This town doesn't seem to have much history, but I think we have a history through our signs," said Gary Hendricks, service manager for Young Electric Sign Co., owner of the sign graveyard and the city's oldest and largest neon producer.
Within a few weeks, the vintage signs will be relocated to an empty lot on Las Vegas Boulevard, a few blocks north of downtown. By fall 2002, a visitors' center should be open, offering neon demonstrations for schoolchildren.
Nine historic signs already have been restored and placed downtown by the Neon Museum, a nonprofit group set up by the city in 1996 to save the signs. Some of those signs are from the sign company; others came from the local Allied Arts Council and private donors.
Tourists can see the 1966 genie lamp from the old Aladdin Hotel and the 1940 Chief Hotel Court sign. Plaques accompany each sign and tell its story.
The Hacienda Hotel's 40-foot-tall horse and rider, which welcomed gamblers on the south end of the Strip, was the museum's first restoration project. The Hacienda was demolished in 1996, and Mandalay Bay went up in its place. Now the famous cowboy sits on a 24-foot pole at Las Vegas Boulevard and Fremont Street.
The sign company first began designing casino signs in 1932, the year after gambling was legalized. And ever since, when casinos, motels, restaurants and businesses wanted new signs, the old ones were cast aside.
The unplugged signs began collecting in the gravel lot next to the sign company behind the Strip. Today dozens of old signs are stacked on top of one another, some missing letters that rest amid a carpet of broken glass.
In one corner, almost hidden and on its side, lies the red and yellow Golden Nugget sign from the 1950s. Rust has taken over now, and the paint has faded. A new sign with classy gold lighting instead of neon has taken its place at the downtown casino.
