Breaking Into Vegas

The Hoisters Take a Gamble

It’s the end of November, 1980. Tom and I decide to drive my old Austin America on a hoist* to Las Vegas. We’re going to, as he says, "paint the town red.”

Base of Circus-Circus Clown Sign, gouache on board, 1981. Original at the Starr Library through March, 2025.

I'm ready to make the break from black and white into color, so I bring my violin case filled with tubes of gouache.

Tom wants to break into the casinos, to get behind the scenes, so we bring our security officer uniforms, clipboards and aviator shades.

During the drive we argue about whether those uniforms are going to help us break into the surveillance rooms.

"They'll know we're frauds," I say.

"Not if we keep moving."

"Won't they ask us for a badge?"

"Hey, man, it worked for us at the Disneyland Hotel."

He reminds me of how, dressed in our security uniforms, we scoured the whole building, from the elevator motors to the basement kitchen.

“If anyone tries to stop us or ask questions, we’ll tell them we’re in pursuit of a suspect. ‘We’re looking for a big guy with a red shirt. Have you seen him?’”

We arrive and start painting. Tom wants to document a street view of a casino. People tell us there was a terrible fire a few days ago at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. Eighty-five people died. The whole place reeks of smoke and ashes.

I paint the Landmark Hotel, which looks like a space ship.

We go inside Caesar’s Palace for a cheap dinner: $3.99 for all the roast beef and mashed potatoes we can shove down. Tom immediately starts flirting with Debbie, one of the show girls who is on break. She sits for his portrait, but she’s wise to his moves and gives him the slip.

On a tip from Debbie we go up the elevator to the second floor. We explore one of the hallways, looking an unmarked door. It kind of looks like al the other blank panels. We push it open slowly and quietly. No alarms go off, so we keep moving inside. It’s dark in there, just a few lights far away. No people that we can see. We tiptoe along the catwalks.

“Look at this, one-way mirrors!” Tom says. We can look right down over the dealer’s tables. I guess that’s how they check for funny business.

“Let’s get out of here, Jackson, I whisper.

—
Note: The Landmark Hotel was later demolished for Tim Burton’s 1995 movie “Mars Attacks.”
Read more stories like this in The Artist’s Guide to Sketching.

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