Wayne Newton arrived in Las Vegas as a fresh-faced 17-year-old singing sensation, looking like the result of a science experiment involving Brylcreem and estrogen. It was 1959, and to put his Las Vegas tenure into perspective, that was the year that Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper died, that Fidel Castro first took command of Cuba and that American Airlines scheduled its first transcontinental jet flight from Los Angeles to New York.
This is no way intended to make Wayne Newton feel old, since his pompadoured hair is every bit as black as the late Ronald Reagan's, but the guy has been a Las Vegas fixture for a very long time.
And he is still there, overseeing his 52-acre Casa de Shenandoah ranch, wowing the Wayniacs who flock to see him six nights a week, most recently at the Flamingo, and playing the role of the city's benevolent elder statesman. As proclaimed in the welcome banner at www.waynenewton.com (where the Wayne Wear Mug goes for just $4), Newton is "Mr. Las Vegas."
So, naturally, when Newton's people offered me a tour of Las Vegas guided by the ultimate Vegas insider, I couldn't say no. Who else would have such a sweeping grasp of local lore and history? Who better to narrate the tectonic shift that transformed the desert oasis into one of the fastest growing cities in America?
I secretly was hoping for a glimpse at the behind-the-scenes workings of Sin City, where visitors are encouraged to unleash the beast within and the primary role of the immigrant class along the Strip seems to be handing out promotional cards for escort services. Newton's was a name that could open doors, and I knew the story might offer a rare glimpse at the copious consumption habits of Mr. Las Vegas himself. While he gives generously of his time and money to the USO and many other charitable causes, research also suggests that, despite some niggling bankruptcy problems in the early 1990s and a 2005 skirmish with the IRS, Newton's is a fast-lane life lived on private jets and Arabian horses, on personal yachts and helicopters, and behind the wheel of his fabulous cars. His star may have dimmed and his voice faltered a bit in recent years, but he apparently has maintained his lifestyle by leveraging his fabled stage act into parallel careers in film and television.
In short, Wayne Newton seemed like a decent guy, a fascinating character and the perfect escort into the neon-lit core of America's naked id.
There was just one problem: actually connecting with Mr. Las Vegas.Even though his own public relations agency had pitched the Wayne's World tour idea, it took more than three months for me to pull off a preliminary 15-minute telephone interview with the man. Times were set and then canceled, again and again, because being Mr. Las Vegas keeps Newton pretty busy. (In addition to the in-town shows he performs, his road schedule has, in the past two months alone, taken him to venues in Niagara Falls, Ont.; North Myrtle Beach, S.C.; Hollywood, Fla.; Columbus, Ga.; Cabazon, Calif.; and Wendover, Nev.)
To his credit, Newton gave it his all when that short phone conversation finally happened--apparently a hallmark of his lotta-bang-for-the-buck stage act. He was effusive about the tour possibilities. He offered a quick geography lesson about how the mountains that ring the city had for years limited growth. He explained the evolution of Vegas from a gambling capital to "an entertainment-based city" where gaming, "in my opinion, has slipped to third place" as an attraction, behind stage acts, restaurants and shopping. He talked at length about the evolving trends in entertainment, from the Rat Pack singers, to the magicians, to the comedians and the impersonators, to the modern-day circus shows.
He recalled with great irony how "the NBC affiliate came up for sale here in the mid-1970s and Dick Clark, a friend of mine, suggested that he and I buy the station. He checked it out for two months, and when I finally called him to ask about it, he said he'd decided to pass. The opinion was that Las Vegas wasn't going to last."
The 64-year-old Newton seemed genuinely excited about showing off his hometown, dropping tantalizing hints about Howard Hughes' secret tunnels at the Desert Inn. He even suggested that we meet Claudine Williams, whom he described as "my adopted mother" and said had helped build the first Holiday Inn on the Strip, now the site of Harrah's.
"She's in her 80s," he said. "She actually came out here from Texas as a dealer. She knows more about that kind of history than anyone I know."
