Transcript of interview with Elinor Horden by Valerie Fujii, February 13, 1930

UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden i An Interview with Elinor Horden An Oral History Conducted by Valerie Fujii Ralph Roske Oral History Project on Early Las Vegas Special Collections and Archives Oral History Research Center University Libraries University of Nevada, Las Vegas UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden ii © Ralph Roske Oral History Project on Early Las Vegas University of Nevada, Las Vegas, 2019 UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden iii The Oral History Research Center (OHRC) was formally established by the Board of Regents of the University of Nevada System in September 2003 as an entity of the UNLV University Libraries’ Special Collections Division. The OHRC conducts oral interviews with individuals who are selected for their ability to provide first-hand observations on a variety of historical topics in Las Vegas and Southern Nevada. The OHRC is also home to legacy oral history interviews conducted prior to its establishment including many conducted by UNLV History Professor Ralph Roske and his students. This legacy interview transcript received minimal editing, such as the elimination of fragments, false starts, and repetitions in order to enhance the reader's understanding of the material. All measures have been taken to preserve the style and language of the narrator. The interviewee/narrator was not involved in the editing process. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden iv Abstract On February 13th, 1980, collector Valerie Fujii interviewed dancer, Elinor Horden, (born May 21st, 1930 in Ohio) at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. This interview covers local entertainment in the 1950s and the social and environmental changes that have occurred in Las Vegas, Nevada. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 1 Here with me today is Eleanor Horden. The date is February 13th, 1980, and the time is 1:40 P.M. This interview is being held at the James Dickins Library in the UNLV campus. I am Valerie Fujii, of 3955 Swenson Street, Number 284, Las Vegas. The project is an oral interview of the Life of a Las Vegas Old-Timer. Are you a native of Southern Nevada? If not, where did you come from? No. I am not a native of Nevada or Southern Nevada. And I came from a little town in Ohio called Strongsville. It’s a little farming community and I think it’s grown up now to be a city. But I’m not a native. And what year did you come here? I first came here in 1950, and then I left, I came back in 1951. I left and I came back in 1954, and I’ve stayed here ever since. What made you decide to come to Nevada? The reason I came to Nevada was I belong to a dancing act called the Lucky Girls. And we had a booking at the Desert Inn, at Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn. And that was my first trip out here. And my return trips were all due to the fact that we had other engagements. The next time I came back we worked out at the Flamingo and then we were out at the Showboat. And the last time I came, I quit the act and I decided I wanted to stay here and dance in some of the shows here instead. How did you begin in dancing, like in Ohio? Well, probably around the age of three I was doing cartwheels and jumps off the back of the couch. And my mother decided that rather than break my neck, she better give me dancing lessons. And it was during the Depression and I can remember her telling me that the seventy-UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 2 five cents a lesson was quite a strain on the family. But nevertheless, she did give me dancing lessons. Like in the Lucky Girls, what type of dance routines did you do? Well, if you wanted to be a Lucky Girl, you had to be able to do tap dancing, toe, ballet, twirl a baton, and you also had to do aerial acrobatic work—or just at least acrobatic work. And that would be like cartwheels and walkovers, back walkovers, perfect splits, allusions, and several different things. But if you were an aerial acrobatic dancer, that was great. What type of dance routines—there were like different types of dance routines? Oh, we had, several different. We had numbers where we did nothing but toe dancing. And then, there were numbers that were the French Cancan, which were a lot of kicks and extensions. We had numbers where we did nothing but acrobatic work. We had routines that we had to twirl batons, and sometimes we just had a number that was—it was just a plain tap routine, very plain. Not too much work to it. But that was always a—you do two hard numbers and then you had a sort of a relaxing number, which was always tap dancing. That sounds really interesting. What was the average pay back in about 1950? Well, when I first joined the act, I was making seventy-five dollars a week, and out of that we took our income tax and social security. As I progressed later on and I left the act and joined the lines here in Vegas, I started to make a hundred and twenty-five dollars a week. And out of that, they also took a lot of deductions. So I ended up somewhere about between ninety and ninety-five a week. That was the average of—? That was the average of all the girls in the line. No one was paid anymore or any less. And—it was, you know, just the line girls. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 3 What type of costumes did you wear? Well, when I first started dancing and I worked with the Lucky Girls, most of the wardrobe was a complete coverall where you—(unintelligible) no little tiny g-strings, or abbreviated costumes, they were completely covering you. Sort of on the swimsuit type outfit. Except for the Cancan, which was a long three quarter length outfit, which when you lifted it up, had all fancy ruffles. Most club owners where we did our acts, liked the girls covered. There was no g-strings, no bras. You had to be—it was family type things and you wore— (Laughs) Clothing that sort of—you know, fitted in with the family. But later on when I—as I say, when I left the act and came here to Vegas, the—at the Thunderbird, we wore a full wardrobe, yet. But when I got over to the Hank Henry’s Silver Slipper Show, the costumes got a little more abbreviated. (Laughs) Who picked the costumes of your shows? The wardrobe for our act was permanent wardrobe, belonged to our boss. And it was a wardrobe that was made up just to go with the different number that we did. Like we had a number, it was called the jockey number, and we wore little riding ascots and little tails like an evening suit. But you know, it was a pants, tights, with a little jockey type ascot and hat. And the wardrobe seemed to fit with our numbers. As for the wardrobe for the shows. The producer of our show would pick out the wardrobe for you. You had nothing to say. You went for a fitting and that was it. You wore the robe they gave you. They supplied your costumes and things of that sort. Or did you have to buy things? UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 4 For the—for the act, for the Lucky Girls, we had to buy our own shoes and our make-up and our wardrobe was furnished. When I worked later on here in Vegas the only thing I had to furnish was my make-up. So we were pretty well taken care of. Today, do they still do that, or do the girls—? Oh, today, I—on the Strip, the girls get everything furnished except, you know, make-up, which is only right because each person’s face and coloring are different. So it would be pretty hard to just say, “Hey, everybody put on this type of make-up.” Each one is an individual, so therefore they should be individually made up. You mentioned earlier that you came to Las Vegas and you went somewhere else and you came back. How did you travel? With the act, we had a station wagon. And we used to drive everywhere we went, and we carried a trailer with us, so we’d have all of our wardrobe on it. When we went to Europe, we went by ship, first class. (Laughs) (Laughs) Which was a lot of fun. The—our manager was supposed to have some of the girls travel by—by bus, which she had travelled on bus, by herself, all the time, and she would get carsick. But she could take a bus, I don’t understand it. (Laughs) But she would take maybe one or two of the girls, and the rest of us, we’d all take the station wagon. We’d stop whenever we wanted and stay overnight if we wanted. Or we’d camp out. Whatever we wanted to do. But then, here when I was in Vegas, here as I say, I had my own apartment. And I had to pay for that. So there wasn’t too much travelling. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 5 And you had to pay for your own food and everything else? Like (unintelligible) costume, really? Even if I was in the act or if I worked here in the line—you paid for your own apartment. You paid for your own food or anything you wanted that was on you. The only thing she did give us was our wardrobe. And that’s the same if you work here in the shows. Still yet today? Still yet today. Each one has to pay for their own apartment. Of course if you got a good daddy, and he wants to pay for it. (Laughs) That’s alright, too. (Laughs) Did acts sort of help you find an apartment or were you off on your own like? Oh, you’re always off on your own. But usually if you meet somebody that’s been around town, and you become friendly with them, they’ll tell you hey, you know, there’s apartments over here, they’re a little less but they’re real nice. Nobody bothers you and the people in the show sort of are like family and they help one another if they want to go somewhere, they tell ‘em “Hey, look, you know, this is in expensive, it’s good.” And you sort of listen to ‘em because each one passes on their information to the other. So it’s really helpful to know people like around in Las Vegas, for example. I would say, it’s not—it’s helpful, yes. But it’s better to make friends. Because no matter where you’re at you need a friend. That’s true. And if you have a friend here, you’ve got it made. Who were the stars of the period, like between the late forties and the early fifties? UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 6 Well, I can remember working with Cab Calloway, who was an old-time oh, jive singer. And then, there was Nat King Cole. And Eydie Gorme long before she married Steve Lawrence. And then there is Lou Wills Junior who later on went to New York and did a lot of production numbers. And a dance team called Mackie and Tommy Wonder. And he does production work for the movies when they do make a musical, which is very rare—out in California. You mentioned Wilbur Clark earlier. What type of man was he? Wilbur Clark was a darling. When I worked at the Desert Inn, he made himself known to everybody. He would come in at least once a night and look over everything to see that everything in the dining room was just going right, everything in the casino was going right. Course he had all these people working for him, but still there was that personal touch where he came in and looked everything over and he would come to rehearsals and he would look at the show. And if there was something he didn’t like, he’d say, “Hey, either change it, or take it out.” And you’d be very obliging to him because he was just that nice a guy. He so nicely put to you that you couldn’t refuse him. But he was a very quiet man, good looking and a dear friend to have if you wanted anything he would help you if he could. He sounds like a real nice man. Lovely wife. His wife is—would do charity work. Well, he kept his nose at the—mostly at his hotel. She would be out, doing a lot of charity work and they made a lovely couple. They seem like real carrying people. What—well, how did you land your first job, really? My first job—there was an ad in the paper advertising for girls to work their summers with a circus. So when I was sixteen, I told my mom, “Mom, I’m gonna join the circus.” Well, she started to laugh, but I left anyway. It was just, you know, for the—just stayed in our state. It didn’t go out of the state. It travelled all over our state. So it wasn’t really too far away from UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 7 home. And we would—I would work and I got a girlfriend to come along. And she worked, she was another girl that was taking dancing lessons. So we—were friends and we stayed together most of the time. We did our summers with the circus. And that lasted for two summers and then when I graduated I worked for NASA. But couldn’t stand being cooped up in a building. So I quit and I found out they were holding auditions for the Lucky Girls, and I auditioned and I won the audition and started to travel with them. How did you choose your occupation? Well, as I said before, I was doing handsprings off the back of the couch. And my mother said, before I break my neck she better give me dancing lessons. So I liked it so well, I just sort of fell into it and decided I’d better just stay with it. So in a way, you’re mom really helped you choose your career? Well, she didn’t help me. I—she told me I could do anything I wanted, if I wanted to become a secretary, I think they would probably would let me go to secretarial school, or anything. But I—she helped me by giving me the lessons. But when it came time to choose my profession, she left it up to me. ‘Cause it was after all, my decision too—she knew that I’d be leaving home one way or another. Uh-huh. Usually a child does leave home. Yes. And so she’d rather see me doing something that she knew I was doing rather than something that she didn’t like. (Laughs) (Laughs) And—you said you entertained like for maybe the 1950s, the early 1950s through maybe the middle to the later part of it. What did you do after that? UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 8 After I—well, I—I worked the act when I was travelling around the country. I left them and I started working the lines here in Vegas, and while I was working at the Thunderbird, I got married to my husband and now I still continued to work for the first two years we were married and after that I got pregnant and I had to quit because costumes got too tight. (Laughs) (Laughs) As for your husband, was he born here in Las Vegas? No. He should have been born here in Las Vegas like his brothers and sisters but his mother and father went on a trip to California and he just happened to be (Laughs) born in California. (Laughs) By mistake. (Laughs) But his parents were here in Las Vegas, like their home was in Las Vegas? Yes. His father came—Johnny Horden came to Las Vegas in 1903, and he was here alone. And he left his wife back in New Mexico. I think it was either Sante Fe or Albuquerque, probably Albuquerque, and after he got himself established than he sent for her, and she came to Las Vegas later. What—like what made your husband’s family come to Las Vegas? Well, Johnny Horden was born in New Straitsville, Ohio, and he’d always worked in the mines. And he decided well, everything seemed to be moving west, so he thought he’d try it, and he went to New Mexico, and he worked in the mines there. And he kept hearing about the west, keep going wet, you know. And he thought, well, he’ll—he’ll head out and he’ll go to California and see what it’s like over there. But he—he started out to go that direction but he ended up in what was then Las Vegas, which was absolutely nothing, but desert and little tin towns where he would sit around a camp fire at night and cook over in wooden—use wooden spoons and sit on crates and what have you, and he liked it so well, he decided he wanted to stay here. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 9 Well, I found the term, like Block 16, would you like to mention something about that? Well, I don’t know too much about Block 16, because it’s more or less, way before my time. But my brother-in-laws and my husband have told me a little bit about it. Block 16 was one block set aside just for the gambling casinos, bars, and houses of prostitution. And the—it seems that the wives of the fellows who owned the clubs decided they wanted it kept one place. They didn’t want it mingled in with their children. They wanted to keep it all in one place. So they knew where it was, what was going on, and where it was going on. And the children wouldn’t hear about it and they would see about it and they’d keep the children real nice. (Laughs) So they had designated Block 16, which would contain all the gambling, all the drinking, and all the loose ladies. And later on, as the town grew, so did Block 16. And it sort of grew down a couple more blocks. And—by that time, people were becoming more liberated and the town became more liberated and the families moved a little further away from the center of town and maybe went to Third Street. Instead of everybody being on First Street they moved to Third so it was alright if the Block 16 got a little larger. So eventually Block 16 became like the Strip and Downtown? No. It wasn’t the Strip. The Strip was never thought about. And my sister-in-law will tell me stories of when she got married, oh, back about 1925, or ’26 when she got married. Hm. The judge that she worked for wanted to give her a hundred acres and she said, “What do you want with that piece of desert way out there?” (Laughs) UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 10 That hundred acres is now where the—oh, dear the—Desert Inn, and a little bit of let’s see, a part of the Desert Inn and part of the Sahara Hotel. There were two, two lots that were fifty acres each, so together he was gonna give her two pieces of property, a total of hundred acres. And she, “What would I want with that piece of sand way out there?” (Laughs) And she never accepted it. No, town was always Downtown. Mm-hmm. And Strip was never even heard of. That was way out in the desert. Matter of fact, the ladies of the town, my mother used to—mother-in-law used to tell me they would take their little wagons and they would put their young children in it, and the ones that were able to walk, and they would walk from their home, which was like on First Street, and Main, or maybe very far away would be Second Street, and they’d walk to where the Downtown post office, now is situated. And they had the public wash lines out there. That was like going on a picnic. They’d pack a little lunch. And they would take all their laundry that they had done on the washboard. And the gentlemen had picked up poles and put wires and cords, so that they could hang up their clothing. And they would spend—you know part of the day, hanging up the clothes and wait for ‘em to dry and they’d have like a little sandwich or something or a drink for the children. Then they’d fold up their clothes and then they’d come back to town in the little wagon. But that was an outing for the kids. But as I say, that wasn’t very far away. And Mrs. Von Tobel, and my mother-in-law, and Mrs. McFadden and some of the other mothers decided it was just too hot to take the little children out there. So they got some mesquite seeds, from all the old mesquite bushes that were around by the railroad track, and they planted mesquite trees all around the wash lines. So—they grew very fast, ‘cause it’s a desert plant, or desert tree and wasn’t the next UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 11 year they had nice coverage. So to give ‘em a little shade. And it wasn’t too long ago that they just cut dog all the old mesquite trees that they had around there. So we’ve gotten rid of all the old history now. (Laughs) (Laughs) So—getting back to Block 16, it was basically started by Catholic families or Catholic ladies not wanting their—? Well, I think it was just the fact that it was all the people that—all the gentlemen decided they were gonna open up their club here, here, and here. And they all stayed sort of together, because they—what good would it do to spread ‘em out? There was nobody to go to the different area, so if they kept it real close they would—you know, people would go from one place to another. Uh-huh. From one club to another. But oh, in a way, the Catholic women and the Methodist, and the Mormon’s helped to keep it all congregated in one little block but I really don’t know. ‘Cause I never had the opportunity to talk to my father-in-law, he died long before I got married. The Catholic families in Las Vegas, were they—were they like, the majority of—religious families? Was the Catholic religion—? Oh, you mean, the Catholic religion? Mm-hmm. Yes. I think at the time when Las Vegas was first started, all the religions were very strong. Nobody ever heard of an atheist. I just don’t think anything like that existed. (Laughs) You—you had a religion whether you were a Mormon, whether you were a Catholic or whether you were a Methodist or a Baptist. Each one had a religion. Mm-hmm. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 12 I—I don’t think there was any—well, they may have not have gone to church. But if the wife got behind them, they went, whether it was once a month, or every Sunday, they went at least once a month. Uh-huh. Their wives would get behind them and push ‘em to go to their religious services. But I don’t think anybody didn’t go to church just because they didn’t believe in anything. I think religion then was really a stronghold thing that everybody believed in something. Mm-hmm. And I think they all believed in God, even if it wasn’t in the same church. Uh-huh. But all the churches would get together. This is my mother-in-law talking. (Laughs) She would say, they were going to have the raising of the Methodist Church. So all the women would get together and they would cook something. And all the guys, and all the gentlemen would go and they would all help to raise the sidewalls of the church and then after they got everything that was hard to do done, then they’re the church members, you know. Say it was a Methodist Church, men that were belonging to the Methodist Church would finish putting on the top of the roof and finish the walls. But the hard part, where it took more than just the few members everybody would come together and do. It wasn’t just you know, hey, I’m Catholic or hey, I’m a Methodist, and I am gonna help you over there. We all came together. It was a family. Who are some of the more famous Catholic families or names in Las Vegas? Oh my goodness, (Laughs), well, I know the Von Tobel’s and the (Unintelligible) were of course very staunch here. And there were the McFadden’s. And Father Leo, he’s Monsignor now, he’s UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 13 up north, and his family has been here for many, many years. Later on, I really couldn’t list you all of ‘em because I really don’t know. Uh-huh. But—of the families that I’ve been closely connected with, I know Justice Mulberry and his father-in-law Mr. Hamas, donated the land on which Saint Ann’s Church and School are now located, over on Maryland Parkway. Mm-hmm. And he’s been here for quite a few years, too, Justice Mulberry. Were the Catholics, were they like a great influence to Las Vegas? Oh, I think not only the Catholics, I think every religion offered something for the town. I mean they built their beautiful churches, which in those days, were beautiful churches, because there was no wood. Mm-hmm. I mean they—everything had to be brought in from either California or Arizona. And it would take time so they’d either have to bring it in on the train, which you know, came in. And actually they—Las Vegas was where they would lay the track, and then they’d move the train up and they’d lay some more track and the train would follow it. But I think all religions have donated to the history and the growing of Las Vegas. Without it, I don’t think Las Vegas would survive the way it has. Uh-huh. It’s really not a bad town, we shouldn’t say town anymore. It’s more—I think it’s more than a town. (Laughs) UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 14 It’s too big. It’s—I think it’s too big. But it, right now, I would say, I guess I’m accustomed to saying town. So if you excuse that, but— That’s quite alright. Ah, (Laughs) I think they’ve all contributed something. And without religion I don’t think the town would have survived. It would have been too lawless. And I think that religion did keep it as clean as it is. So religion did help a lot like before—more people believed and went to church? Yes. Compared to today, that, now today they’re sort of more for themselves and—? No, no, nope, no, no. I disagree there. I still say that the religion is very, very strong here. Uh-huh. There are people who always say, “Well, hey I can’t get to church I work days or I work nights, and I’ve got to (unintelligible).” But they are very few, and of course you’ve got these knew different type of religions now, like you know, there’s the (unintelligible) and born again Christians. But the old type of staunch religions, you know, the Catholic and the Mormon, Baptist, Methodist, and Lutheran, all those solid religions, I think the people—well, we keep building new Catholic churches. They keep expanding all the churches in the city have been growing. Each time an area gets to overcrowded, they break up and they build another section, a little further out. So I would say, religion is still growing here. No way is it staying just the way it is or diminishing whatsoever. It’s just growing period. Okay. Like Las Vegas. (Laughs) UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 15 (Laughs) As for the people, do you think that like when the town was smaller, the people were nicer and would help each other out more then, compared to today? Agreed. I agree wholeheartedly. I think that the people coming in are—not all of them, but a large majority of them are here thinking they’re gonna make some easy money. Mm-hmm. Tip wise, you know, as a waitress, or a bartender, or working on the gambling tables. I think they’re all—not all of them, but a lot of them come here thinking they’re gonna make money. And so they’re not as friendly as they used to be. You used to know your neighbor. Today, I only know one woman that lives next to me and the only reason I know her is because she’s lived next to be for oh, maybe eighteen years, and the other lady, for—lived next to me, for about twenty-three years. Mm-hmm. But the rest of my neighborhood, I don’t know. And it’s just because the people have, you know, that live there, have moved away. Uh-huh. New people have come in and they don’t want to be bothered. So really, the people coming in are more quiet mouth. They don’t want to be friendly and they don’t want to get to know you too well. But—I mean, that’s a small majority. A lot of people are the opposite. But I just happen to be in a neighborhood where they just don’t want to be too friendly. Uh-huh. But you’ll find that in anyway town or any city that—where people are coming into, they are just afraid and the way things are today, you have to be afraid. In the olden days, I never lock my door. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 16 (Laughs) I never would. Today I lock my door. (Laughs) (Tape one ends) Since—since the turnover here of people are coming and going, you know, is so great, do you think that adds to the unfriendliness? Or? Just, you know, the way people keep to themselves? Well, of course that would—really if you have people that have been here for a long time, we always meet. There’s always been some affair where we’d always get together and it seems like it, you know, an old-time clan. You know, like Helldorado would be a get-together and you know, all the people would be there for it. Nowadays people don’t bother with Helldorado. We used to have a—you would always be dressed in western. Mm-hmm. Nowadays, half the people don’t even know what it is. Just because their kids are in school, they know that they’ve got to dress up and go and be in a parade. Because they’re in the band or something like that. But I—I do believe and I’m very sincere about it, that the change over the population has made them, not unfriendly, but just not caring. Uh-huh. Because they say, hey, you know, I’ve lived here five years. Ugh. I’m moving on. I’ll probably never see that person again. And they really don’t care. (Unintelligible) They seem to be more to themselves and without like—before you would know your neighbors like you mentioned. Right. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 17 Yes. It’s just the fact that they don’t want to take the time. Everything’s such—such a hurry today. Mm-hmm. Yes. Walk down the street, you run, you don’t walk anymore. And in the olden days or when I first came here, you’d walk down the street and you’d meet half the town. Uh-huh. Now everybody’s sort of moved away, moved out further. Because the homes they’ve lived in are older and they’re going out to something newer, a little bit bigger, maybe a little bit better. So they’ve moved out. You don’t see ‘em Downtown, anymore. Uh-huh. Matter of fact, I don’t even go Downtown. (Laughs) I do all my shopping in—at the Meadows. Uh-huh. Or the little shopping area near me, so I wouldn’t get downtown like I used to. And Downtown was everything. Uh-huh. Like maybe today, if you’d go Downtown, it would be for a special occasion or something? I don’t go Downtown. At all? Period. (Laughs) (Laughs) Or maybe sometime, I’ll go down for lunch, and like to the Golden Nugget, or— UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 18 Uh-huh. Some of the old-time restaurants that have been here for years. Or Benny Binion’s Horseshoe—Benny Binion lives near me. Mm-hmm. And then he says, “Hey, anytime, you’re hungry. Come on down.” You know. (Laughs) I’ll go down to see Benny, but to go Downtown, no. I wouldn’t bother. Like I heard some people talking, is it true that if you live here, you don’t go into the casinos unless you work there? Well, I know, a few people that go into the casinos, but they like to gamble, and they know their limits. And they’ll gamble a little bit. And then, they’ll go home. But they work in ‘em. I don’t think they gamble in the casinos where they work. ‘Cause a lot of places frown on that. But they will go to some other place, it’s like a federation. Everybody knows everybody, if John’s a dealer and he works at the Silver Slipper, than you’d go over to the Silver Slipper ‘cause you know John will be over there. Dealers know one another, especially the ones that have been here at least twenty years. Mm-hmm. They know where everybody’s working and what shifts they’re on. And—so they’ll go over there and gamble in their established and the same as reversed. But as the people live here, I think there’s more gambling going on now due to the fact that they put slot machines in the grocery stores. Uh-huh. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 19 I think the only few places they don’t have slot machines are the churches and the hospitals. (Laughs) (Laughs) Otherwise I think they’d be putting, you know, nickel’s in there and diamonds in there. And I think the housewife now would never think of it. But now, when she comes out, she’s got a little bit of change in her hand. Uh-huh. She’ll go put the quarter the diamond the nickel in the—in the slot machine, and then walk out. But if you take into account all those nickel, dimes, and quarters, you know, how many times you have to go to the grocery store, it would add up. But I think the only time, I ever gamble—or, I wouldn’t say, gamble hard, but put some nickels or dimes and quarters in the slot, when friends come from out of state. And they’ll want to see the Strip, so you show ‘em the Strip, and of course, they all want to try their hand at the slot machine thinking they’re going to win a lot. (Laughs) Uh-huh. (Laughs) They’ll try the slots and of course you—you don’t want to stand there with your hands folded, so you buy a couple dollars-worth of nickels and join’em. The same thing with Downtown, they want to see both places. Downtown, which is not supposed to be too ultra. And the Strip, which is supposed to be your ultra. Uh-huh. In the way of the buildings and the décor inside. And so, you just sort of wait till your friends come in and then you— Then you go. UNLV University Libraries Elinor Horden 20 Go out and blow a couple dollars. (Laughs) But—really putting slot machines in the stores have caused more gambling than money to be spent by housewives than before. I notice that there are slot machines in the grocery stores and at the airports and things of that sort. But like at Meadows Mall or Boulevard, they don’t have any slot machines. Do you know why or—? Well. What could be the purpose? I—I think it’s because they have mor