Stars, Dust and Memories

Rob took this photo in September 2005.

The Stardust was imploded early Tuesday morning. About a year after Rob took the above photo, the casino was closed, and stripped of it's contents, leaving as little as possible for the demolition. About three years from now, the luxurious new Echelon will stand on that site, welcoming tourist with 5000 rooms, a theater, concert venue and, just what Vegas needs, another shopping mall. Las Vegas is a city always in transition, in perpetual motion, constantly tearing down to build bigger and better. I've visited there several times, but never have I seen the same city twice. My last trip to Vegas was in September 2005, when Rob and I went there for our honeymoon.

Yes, a honeymoon in Vegas! I know that it is traditionally the place to tie the knot, but, we had another idea. We weren't looking for the trip of a lifetime, we were looking for the trip to start a lifetime. We wanted to go somewhere warm, with water (a pool), people, good food, lots to see and even more to do, but not have to participate in any of it; I don't think that we could have found a better location, for us.

We didn't stay at the Stardust. In fact, we only went in there once to see the wonderful comedy of Tim Conway and Harvey Korman, whom you may remember from The Carol Burnett Show. To say that Rob and I love to laugh, love to have fun, would understate the truth. We are both of the mind that there is a lot to be sad, worked up, over wrought -- whatever -- about, but we make an effort to keep faith, grace and humor foremost in our lives, so when I found out that these two gentlemen of comedy would be performing in Las Vegas, our decision was made.

Rob and I are the nearly the same age, so although we grew up in very different households, we have the same cultural references, and The Carol Burnett Show is one of them. The talent of that ensemble was, and still is, amazing. I've heard it said that good comedy is based in the truth, that the recognition of one's self is what makes something humorous. Those people were genuinely funny, and the characters they created have become classics, by holding up a mirror and allowing us to catch a glimpse of ourselves. Carol Burnett's Eunice never made jealousy and self pity funnier. Vicki Lawrence was the most overbearing and critical of all mamas, to the extreme delight of her audience. Tim Conway was the master of slow, much to the chagrin of the ever-impatient Harvey Korman.

The show that Rob and I saw at the Stardust was an encore of some of the best of the Conway and Korman shtick, along with new material, mostly about their advancing ages, and I don't think that I've ever laughed as much at anything. My husband had to wipe away tears over and over. They really were that funny. And all without one four letter word being uttered by either man.

We arrived early, and had the opportunity to walk about the casino a bit, and get a Coke at the bar. As the first mass-market casino, in its day, I'm sure that the Stardust was considered to be quite swanky by the throngs of everyday people who went in search of riches and ninety-nine cent steaks. The writer in me could see Frank, Dean and Sammy, tucked into a deep Naugahyde booth, besting each other with stories from back in the day, when the Rat Pack was golden. In truth, the red carpets were tired, and dated; the air was heavy with decades of cigarette smoke and regret. We didn't gamble after the show, but we did look around a little more, then we walked back, through the warm night air, to our hotel and laughed all over again at the genius that we had experienced.

I watched the video of the implosion; it seems like the old place went out in grand Vegas style, with fireworks and a crowd of partying onlookers. But this event got me to remembering, and brought up some questions: Whatever happened to comedy? How did we get to this place where something is only humorous if it's about sex organs, or spiked with foul language? Why is it only funny when it's delivered with a sharp tongue, as the verbal equivalent of a back alley beating?

Maybe it's the time, everything is cheaper now. And as a dear friend often reminds me, "cheap" and "inexpensive" are not synonymous. We have access to more information, more visual stimuli than at any other time in history. People want more, bigger, better, faster, flashier, trashier. It's like a drug: The first one is always free, it's the future purchases that come so dear.

That Stardust sign was 188 feet tall, and yet it will be dwarfed in comparison by the new casino. The next time I go to Vegas, I'll stop at that site, and, yes, I'll go in to the Echelon, if it's built. Yes, I'll probably check out the shopping, and yes, I'll marvel at the size of it all. Maybe I'll see a show there, but, it probably won't compare to Tim Conway and Harvey Korman.

If comedy really is a reflection of a culture, of our true selves, then maybe, I don't want to look into it. I probably wouldn't like what I would see, but, at least I have my memories. And, you know that I'm going to say it, my Stardust memories.