The Nevada Hall of Fame
When it first occurred to me that Nevada has no Hall of Fame I envisioned a big sign on the outside of a large empty building.
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I have since refined that conception to include virtual exhibits on the individuals who have achieved fame here, or at least deserved to.
They needn’t have been born here, lived here all their lives or even spent much time here at all, only that they deserved to be famous and had a strong Nevada connection.
Introducing the First Six:
Editor’s Choice —
The Silver State Scavenger Hunt Starts Monday July 1
by Eric Cachinero
Do you want an excuse to?
Let the 2019 Silver State Scavenger Hunt begin! This year’s hunt is the perfect opportunity to get out and explore some of Nevada’s most breathtaking natural wonders.
Nevada’s Star Train takes visitors into the dark on a stargazing adventure
by Jay Jones
The ride starts at 7:30 p.m. in the tiny town of Ely, about four hours north of Las Vegas, one of the brightest cities in the world. Rangers from nearby Great Basin National Park board the Nevada Northern Railway Museum’s historic train to serve as astronomy guides.
Nevada’s “new” Brothel Industry won’t lie
in the shadow of Dennis Hof
by Jeremy Lemur
With Nevada’s unique status as the only state in the union that has successfully legalized prostitution in the form of regulated brothels, Nevadans can expect the eyes of the nation to be on them as pundits look to a bona fide, time-tested example of legalized prostitution in America.
5 Years Ago in the NevadaGram
Land Sailors on Smith Creek Playa
This is terrain traversed at a gallop by Pony Express riders in 1860 and not much changed since then, except by the slow increase in traffic along the old trail prompted by silver discoveries in the nearby mountains. Horses and wagons gave over to flivvers, which gradually became automobiles, more and more of them whizzing past the dry lake bed on the Lincoln Highway.
When US 50 was realigned a generation ago to avoid the steep climb to Carroll Summit, the broad oval patch of level white ground in the valley reverted to a prehistoric quiet.
Overheard at the Martin Hotel in Winnemucca “You must live a balanced life, Laura. Learn some and think some, and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.”
10 Years Ago in the NevadaGram
Visiting Joe Conforte in Rio De Janeiro
I’m a long way from Tuscarora, about 200 feet in the air and 5,000 miles from the nearest sagebrush.
The view from the penthouse in Sao Conrado.
To my right, thickly jungled mountainsides lunge up into a sky clabbered with slow-moving clouds; to my left, the Atlantic Ocean heaves itself ceaselessly against a broad sandy beach the color of honey. A couple of two-man teams are playing volleyball with only their feet and their heads. Below, a busy boulevard channels an iron tide of traffic — complete with police sirens — to and from the center of the city.
I’m visiting Joe Conforte, the once upon a time proprietor of the Mustang Ranch, the most famous whorehouse in all America, maybe the world. He was born into poverty in a small fishing village in Sicily, now he lives like a king in his penthouse apartment in Rio de Janeiro. I’m here for a week, and it turns out that living like a king is actually quite pleasant.
There’s the view of course, and the spacious apartment — I’m in the guestroom upstairs, with the Jacuzzi, the patio and the pool. There’s the cook, the maid and the driver, and the squadron of personal assistants. There’s Joe’s daughter Annabella. She’s 14 now, a bright, cheerful girl who speaks Portuguese as her native language, and is learning English at school. She was born in Rio and has lived here all her life. She is the apple of Joe’s eye, and also his ace in the hole: except in extraordinary circumstances Brazilian law forbids extradition of anyone who has a Brazilian citizen as a dependent.
Joe’s daughter Annabella, Lucivana and Joe out on the town.
And there’s Joe. He’s 83 now, a slightly softer version of the flamboyant guy who’d step out of the limo at Harrah’s in Reno with a beautiful girl on each arm, drawing every eye. He is retired, living on the income from his real estate investments (he says he spends $25,000 a month to maintain his lifestyle), most of them in Rio. He has nothing to do with prostitution here, and he has given up political control of Storey County.
* An unsubstantiated report asserts that Joe has died in Rio De Janeiro
15 Years Ago in the NevadaGram
Canadians are good tippers!
In last month’s NevadaGram I mentioned Canadians and tipping, which inspired a sharp rebuke from Winnemucca: “For your information not all of us Canadians are lousy tippers!”
Naturally I was appalled at the idea I’d somehow contributed to unfair national stereotyping, so I hurried up to Canada to find out the truth. For three days I interviewed barmaids and waitresses in the pleasing city of Victoria BC.
“Oh no,” they assured me, “Canadians are good tippers, just like you guys. The poor tippers are the Australians and the English. They’re awful. But it’s not because they are cheap, it’s because in Australia and England they pay servers a living wage, and tips aren’t expected there.”
Oh.
While I was conducting this important research it occurred to me that in the USA there are probably half a million Mexican restaurants and not a single Canadian restaurant. It turns out there aren’t any in Canada either. In a small city like Victoria you can find food from everywhere around the world — even Tibet — but if you want blubber and beans you’re out of luck.
Parting Shot —
Boys’ Race at the Eureka 4th of July celebration