Transcript of interview with Irene Doty by Jackie Ogden, March 20, 1977

UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty i An Interview with Irene Doty An Oral History Conducted by Jackie Ogden 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 Irene Doty ii © Ralph Roske Oral History Project on Early Las Vegas University of Nevada, Las Vegas, 2018 UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 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 Irene Doty iv Abstract On March 20, 1977, Jackie Ogden interviewed Irene Doty (born 1914 in Dangerfield, Texas) about her life in Southern Nevada. Doty first talks about the first casino properties and restaurants in Las Vegas along with some of the other businesses and operations of the area. She also describes some of her experiences as a justice of the peace, conditions during World War II, and the clothing fashion of the time. Doty also talks about some of her experiences in Goodsprings, Nevada, and about her experiences as a juror and potential juror in several murder trials. The interview concludes with a discussion on housing development and gambling in Las Vegas. UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 1 I’m Jackie Ogden, and I’ll be interviewing Irene Doty. She’s the former justice of the peace from the Sloan-Goodsprings area. Irene, is there anything that you could tell me that you particularly remember? Well, I remember so much, I hardly know where to start, but I came to Nevada in December, 1942 from California, and I’ve lived here since. And the way things have changed is amazing. I came in, there was only one bus—it was during the war, and one bus was running, the old Pony Express, they called it, and it was. I got to Las Vegas eleven hours late from Los Angeles. And I spent Christmas at the EL Cortez Hotel; it was fairly new then. And it was almost out in the sticks, as far as Las Vegas went, but I remember when Fremont Street was only about three hotels: the Sal Sagev and the old (unintelligible) across from it, the Apache Hotel, and the El Cortez. And then (unintelligible) in casinos. There was the, of course, in Las Vegas, the Pioneer. And where the Golden Nugget’s now is the old (unintelligible) bar. There was the Bank of Nevada on First and Fremont. And after you left Second Street, there wasn’t very much. And as far as North Las Vegas was at the time, it was a good place to stay (unintelligible), and it was part of Las Vegas at the time. And the end of it was before to what, you got what is Lake Mead now—it was College. And then Nellis Air Force Base, of course, was the [Las Vegas Army Air Corps] Gunnery School at that time. And Downtown Las Vegas, I’ll always remember, I stood in line for about forty-five minutes to get into a decent restaurant—it was the old Silver Café. It was ran by the Fongs, big Fong and little Fong, and (unintelligible) Fong’s Garden then. And that was about the only decent place on North First Street, because the red light district had been there before they put in the gunnery school. But the food was delicious, better than you had at the hotels, and all of Fremont Street, there was only about two or three decent restaurants. There was the old [Pop’s] Oasis and the White Spot. If you couldn’t get into the Silver, you went to one of UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 2 the other of those. And that was just about all there was on Fremont Street. Coming out south, it wasn’t much better. When you got to Charleston, it wasn’t paved. And on out, there was just a few things: the El Rancho hotel and the Frontier—Frontier had just opened up a few months before I got here. And this place (unintelligible) cottonwoods out there, have a motel, (unintelligible) for a while, but most of them was help from the Frontier. Then old Frank (unintelligible) had a supper club but on the south. And he’d give (unintelligible) recitals, and if you whispered, he’d ask you to leave. (Laughs) He’d ask you to leave. And then there was a big place, it was Bill’s Barbecue; it was a (unintelligible), and people would come all over Vegas, drive out there to get. They considered it (unintelligible), you know, to get out there and get the barbecue take home or else eat there. And the old Red Rooster, which Gracie Hayes later was there. And then, a little bit further south, about where the Flamingo is now, the highway patrol—the highway patrol station was there. Then there wasn’t anything until you got to the Blue Diamond turnoff, with the exception—pardon me—there was a fella by the name of George Crocker and a little airport out there with two or three small planes. There was no McCarran out there. Planes had been landing out where Nellis is now. And from Blue Diamond on, that was (unintelligible). And at that time, they had big (unintelligible) working there, and the (unintelligible) plant, and lots of people (unintelligible) pretty good sized town. And then next stop—by the way, that was (unintelligible) highway, too, from Los Angeles and here. And the next stop was an old lady that was known from the northeast coast to Maine to San Diego as the meanest woman in the United States, and it was Mrs. Hughes. And her husband had an automobile from the first Helldorado Parade on up and down (unintelligible) would stand on its rear wheels and buck you out of the seat, you know, very (unintelligible) but he’d drive around and try to get the people (unintelligible) embarrassed the most in that old car. (Laughs) Well, UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 3 they had a place, but she was well known for her meanness. But fortunately, she liked me and my husband. I was in that place one day—this is what you like to hear? Oh, yeah. It was Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and I was in her place one day—you know, cigarettes were hard to get here in World War II—and she would take all the Camels for me and my husband, that’s what we smoked. Some other people that she liked, she saved different brands for them, and someone come in (unintelligible) station bar, and some people come in and they have all (unintelligible). There I’d be setting there (unintelligible) both of us with three or four cartons of Camels, and that happened once—three or four cartons of Camels—“Can I get just one package of Camels, please?” “You can see what I have there, and you can take it or leave it.” It’s in that place the woman refused a little girl a drink of water, said they had (unintelligible). And then next was Pop’s Oasis, and it was a very small place at that time—a couple of gas pumps and a restaurant was all that was there. And then from there on to Stateline, there was one other place, Bill Charles had a service station. And at Stateline, at the time I got here, Clara Bow’s father, old King Bow, was running it. And that’s just about all there was between here and the Stateline. But up in Goodsprings, I was there for (unintelligible). And all the mines were working except the gold mine, ‘cause they had shut down before I got there, ‘cause the price of gold was two dollars. But they were mining lead, zinc, copper, and at the time we got married, my husband was a mining (unintelligible). And the government (unintelligible). And rock quarries, (unintelligible) building stones, stepping stones, and all that kind of stuff. And the people at that time were all very, very friendly. We could leave our doors open, and, oh, in Searchlight, that’s where Davis Dam was built—maybe two or three carloads of us, kids, dogs, and everything else, go there and camp out on the river—never lock up the places. That was in the forties and up until the early UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 4 fifties. And the funny part about that was, we’d go down about, was pretty near where Cottonwood Cove is now, and we went back our ancestors’ days and used cow chips to cook. And we didn’t like to have a whole gang of people around us, so (unintelligible) send the kids out together, (unintelligible). And people come up, “We’ve been looking for wood, where did you find yours?” I’d say, “I didn’t.” “Well, what are you using?” I’d say, “Cow chips.” Well that would run them all away. (Laughs) We didn’t have anybody jam up against us. (Laughs) Now, what is it you’d like to know about mines, or the best part of it? What was your husband’s name? Bill Doty. My husband’s name was Bill Doty, and he first came to Nevada in January 1934. And by the way, and he said at the time and shortly after that, he could buy, and coulda bought, an acre of ground where the Strip is now for five dollars. And he said, well, he couldn’t see anything in it—he couldn’t see one thing in it at all. But he worked, he was an all-around miner—he leased mines and owned mines and sold (unintelligible), but he could do everything from muck to mechanic—he knew the mining and was well known in that district. And we were fortunate enough to have old Pop Simon as a friend. When the mines started slacking off, he leased my husband a rock quarry; he would make all kinds of stone (unintelligible). And Goodsprings, at that time—one time, there, there was three grocery stores, and the old hotel which was built in 1916, which has since burned down, it was there—three grocery stores, two bars, elementary school through the eighth grade, and the kids had to ride into Vegas for high school, and the post office. And I think that was just about all there was there. But there was about 150 people, and then some did work in Las Vegas—they’d drive. Then later on, the (unintelligible) corporations started up over on (unintelligible) Mountain, and some of the people worked there. And then they began farming in Sandy Valley, I think it was 1953 or ’54, UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 5 something like that, they started farming, and they had acres and acres of melons that were shipped as far as New York City. They brought in Mexican labor to take care of the melons, and they started raising quite a bit of cotton and also alfalfa, because they got about four cuttings a year, which was very good for alfalfa. And then that kinda died down, but now it is picking up. It’s going to be a regular little city of its own out there sooner or later (unintelligible). Can you tell me about your position as justice of the peace? Well, yes, that was—I applied for it and got it. The (unintelligible) sworn in, in January and I had around the 1st of February. So, I came in and went to work at the (unintelligible) and asked to be appointed. Well, Patty Simon, Pop Simon’s wife, had sent her manager in, it didn’t suit her too well when I got it. But that was quite interesting. I didn’t have to do too much out there, you know, but the highway patrol were there to help me—I’m not an attorney—but the highway patrol were there to help me on call, and I had several quite interesting marriages out there. I thought—this couple I knew, she brought her ex-husband and her sister-in-law for me to marry ‘em, to have a little eight-year-old girl—she wanted the little girl to witness this, and I said she can’t (unintelligible). And finally got ‘em to calm down, I thought they was gonna start a fight right there. And when I got to the part, “Love, honor, and cherish,” ask him, and he says, “I do,” then his ex-wife spoke up, said, “Like hell he will—he’ll do you just like he did me, knock you out the front door.” (Laughs) (Laughs) I said, “All right, now, let’s calm down. Get on with it.” But I had many more marriages, but they had to drive in to Vegas in order to get their license, and lots of ‘em, when they got in, they stayed in here. But there wasn’t too much trouble out there; the people were well-behaved and very little on the highway, you know, that I had anything to do with. I did UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 6 perform one big wedding out at (unintelligible) Western Village. That was on the old L.A. Highway, happened in ’63, I think it was. But written up in the papers and this and that, and you had old Nevada Centennial stagecoaches (unintelligible) mail order bride in from some other states, and they had to put (unintelligible) and guns was just booming off, and this, that, and the other, just had one heck of a picnic out there. And I couldn’t take a drink until it was all over. And there’s people right now come up to me and say, “Well, Irene, I haven’t seen you in ten years or so,” and I (unintelligible) who I’m talking to or nothing, but I’d say, “I’ve got pictures of you were taken out at that western (unintelligible).” And other than that, there wasn’t too much. I was also—I’m not a doctor, but as JP, I was a deputy coroner. And in case of accidents, I was supposed to take care of the money, jewelry, what have you, and bring it in to town. And it was quite interesting, I’m telling you, it was (unintelligible) but it was (unintelligible) and I had a very good time at that. Can you describe the conditions of wartime in Las Vegas when you first arrived? Well, on that, yes, it was quite crowded, ‘cause they were building BMI, but (unintelligible). They were building that, and then on the weekend, it was bringing in about five thousand from the (unintelligible). And they’d bring them in. And I can tell you something interesting on that; this friend of mine had the old Red Rooster out there, he and his wife, I knew them and (unintelligible). And it was ten of them that would come in there every weekend. And I kept in touch with lots of them, and out of the ten, there’s only one survived in World War II. But everything was busy during that time, ‘cause, like I said, it was building BMI, and they were building the addition out here—Huntridge addition—they were just building that, so you could see there wasn’t very much out that way. And then, later on, they started building to the west. And at the time I came here, what is Lorenzi Park now was called Twin Lakes, and it was way UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 7 out in the sticks. And the road to Pahrump wasn’t paved, and there was no Warner Springs or Mountain Springs, at that time. I was here when they paved the road. And when they built the freeway from California, my husband did all the blacksmith sharpening then, the steel that they used, because they did have to blast lots of places. Well, he sharpened the steel and took care of that. Where did you shop, what type of stores were here? Well, there was only one Safeway, and it was small. And Pop Simon—we did most of it right there in Goodsprings. But there was several small stores around, and one Safeway, it was on South Second Street, and then on Fremont Street, there was (unintelligible) Market; that was about the time there during the war, that was about the best place to get good sauerkraut—that’s what drowned up their business, they had the first sauerkraut. And then Cliff’s Fifth Street Market, which is now Las Vegas Boulevard South. And that was just small stores scattered around. And, oh, there was Prime Meats and Provisions; that was on South Fifth. And uptown, beside the Safeway, there was what was called the Market Spot, and that was just about the largest one there was in Vegas at that time, even larger than Safeway. But the supermarkets didn’t come until quite a bit later on, but they were in ’43—that was just about all there was there. What about the wearing apparel? What styles were popular, what did you favor? Well, about the time they got here, they were just about (unintelligible) and of course I always favored pants. When I put on a dress, that was a (unintelligible)—there were several nice shops. There was Ronzoni’s and (unintelligible) and several dress shops. And of course, Penney’s was here, but it was up closer than it is now. It was up there about the third or fourth block of Fremont—and Sears, that was here. But it was just trouble back there then—most trouble we had UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 8 was on rationing. But Bill and I were lucky, because he was a mining strategic metal (unintelligible), that’s the reason he was he was deferred. And we could get extra meat stamps for the miners, and like I said, we got our cigarettes. Of course, they would save them for us. And sugar, well, I hadn’t started canning at that time, so it wasn’t really hard, and we were very lucky on gasoline, ‘cause I cooked on a white gas stove out there, and they got gas for the mines. And I got stamps for my cook stove. And then we had two cars, and we got gasoline for that, so that didn’t affect us any. But if you want to know something funny about that one, and I (unintelligible) I had to come in ever so often, you know, to get them. And one gal, I think she got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning or something, she said, “You don’t have any business having all this gasoline. I said, “Well, your bus is the one that (unintelligible) to me, I’ll just go talk to him.” And then he’s on the phone, he’s talking to somebody about his daughter, just been in a wreck up in Salt Lake City, and “If you possibly could, I’d like for you to get me six pair of nylons for her, so that would cheer her up more than anything I can do for her.” That was when you had a hard time getting a pair of hose, less nylons. He said, “Oh, come in, Irene, I’ll be with you in just a minute.” He said, “What can I do for you?” I said, “Well, you can tell me where I can get one pair of nylons.” (Laughs) But he didn’t. (Laughs) But like I said, it was quite busy, but still it wasn’t so large that you couldn’t walk down the street and run across somebody you knew going to have a drink or a bite to eat. It was more of a good, small little town. Where today, you can go up and down the street twice and won’t see anybody you know. But everything was busy, and everybody was working. And at the (unintelligible) there’s very few (unintelligible), and they worked as porters at, of course, the (unintelligible), they worked as porters and bellhops. And there was one colored lady right out in UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 9 the old post office right Downtown, the people would drive by just to see her flower garden and roses; it was (unintelligible). Where did she live? It was on, what’s that old post office on? Stewart? Stewart. It was about, I think it was about Fifth or Sixth and Stewart, and her family had been here for years and years and years. And the people would go by to see (unintelligible), I went by to see the flower garden and met the old lady. And by then, (unintelligible). But, oh, I was here when the El Rancho burned down, and at the time that I came here, they called it the Last Frontier; the other hotel was the Last Frontier instead of the Frontier. And then, the way I understood it before Bugsy Siegel got in, that there was a woman from the (unintelligible) Islands had started, that bought up some barracks and then didn’t have enough money to go on with it, and out there in Paradise Valley. It was one family. It was just jackrabbits, mostly, but it was a Japanese family on the (unintelligible) that practically raised all the vegetables for Las Vegas and one or two scattered small ranches there in Paradise Valley. And on the way to Boulder City, east Las Vegas was Whitney, and we had that and Henderson, and between Henderson and there, the only thing was Railroad Pass and on into Boulder City. And then I remember going to Searchlight; we were coming back that way. And Railroad Pass go out through Nelson, and then Searchlight, then go back through Nipton, California and (unintelligible). And we had some of the best schoolteachers out there for the children—like I said, I didn’t have any children. They had very good schoolteachers out there. They only had two to teach all grades, and some morning, the kids would have to leave there before sunup, dark, and get home after that, to come in, and they only had one high school, and that was Las Vegas UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 10 High. And, oh, some of the kids from Goodsprings have turned out to be quite well. I don’t whether you happened to know Celeste (unintelligible)? Yes, yes, I do. (Laughs) Well Celeste and her husband had the hotel there for quite a while. They had a store also, (unintelligible) had a big store, and her kids all grew up, so they said the children going up to a place like that never could amount to anything, but some of them have surprised (unintelligible). They never had a chance to be anywhere. Well, now that’s only forty miles from Las Vegas. But people were saying, “Oh, kid don’t have a chance in a place”—well, to me, they have a better chance than they do in (unintelligible). And another thing on that, Pop Simon’s on that, and people came in and wanted to know what was up in Goodsprings. And they hit me, talking to me, said, “I understand it’s a ghost town.” I said, “Well, you’ll find (unintelligible) ghosts up there you ever saw in your life.” And people—it was advertised more or less as a ghost town, and then Pop Simon got to making money, and then he enlarged his place. And he ran it up until he died in ’64, and once he got started, he just kept going. And he helped on heck of a lot of people, old Pop did, and he would put people to work, and one time as a—I don’t think they had good sense, but (unintelligible) started going cross-country with no money. And he got just below Pop Simon’s, Pop’s Oasis—cold, (unintelligible). Old Pop sent somebody down there, said, “Bring him up.” He took me (unintelligible) filled the car up with gasoline, and sent him away. Now, that’s (unintelligible). And I don’t know, it seemed like there was something else I wanted to tell you. What was in the way of theaters or entertainment? Very, very little. The El Portal was about the only one when I got here. And there was none and still not any right here in North Las Vegas. And about the only entertainment was the two hotels UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 11 or the nightclubs, and there wasn’t very many nightclubs. And that was the only movie that I remember when I came here, and it’s still here now. And didn’t have very much of anything. You had to make your own fun. What type groups—or people played at the hotels? Well, I can remember Sammy Davis said he had to go through the back door. They had just about what they had now compared to what it is now. Oh, and Betty Grable, Harry James lived here at the time. She was playing at the El Rancho when it burned down (unintelligible). But as far as entertainment, there wasn’t too much of it. And then they began to pick up probably, oh, when people come in, go to some of the casinos, you know, would have, not big time stars—mostly western bands and Judy Lynn really got her start here. And on the others on the stage, well, they didn’t have the lavish productions that they have now. That was more or less, you know, just one or two-person show, you know, and had these spectacular things until they started building the other hotels on the Strip, and they started bringing that out. But they’d have, oh, like I said, they’d have Sammy Davis and people like him. They didn’t charge near what they charge now, and they didn’t get paid near— [Audio cuts out, tape ends] Well, the medical facilities around here were not too much at the time. There was two hospitals; where Southern Nevada Memorial is now was called the county hospital, and all through the county (unintelligible). And then the Las Vegas Hospital at Eighth and Ogden. And there wasn’t too many doctors, and it’s quite a few years before an oral surgeon say, for instance, came in. And they didn’t have very much on that. And the doctors at the time, some of them were good, but not the type that they have now. They were mostly just general practitioners and surgeons, and then later, after I first got here, they started coming in, specialists of all kinds. But to begin UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 12 with, they were good, but they weren’t specialists. And on the churches, Vegas has always been known—I can’t remember just how many there were—of course, there wasn’t as many as there are now. But it’s all, in spite of the gambling, it has always had churches. And then, something said about railroads—railroads was particularly important to miners, the railroad was, because of the ore having be moved, they couldn’t afford to ship it by truck. They had to have that when they started raising melons, some of the melons, and reefers, and they played an awfully important part. And they even had a narrow-gauge railroad down to Jean at one time. That was when they were still mining gold. They had a narrow-gauge railroad down there, and the truck workers and their families—they even had trackwalkers at that time, but at different places like Sloan that have the people work on the tracks, you know. And they were kind of a class (unintelligible) themselves at that time. They stuck together; if they couldn’t find somebody to fight with, they’d fight with each other. But they had a heck of a good time, and I miss all that even yet, since they took the trains out, you know, and (unintelligible) all those people, of course they don’t need them like they did. But you had a trackwalker, while meat was rationed, and he was down below Pop’s Oasis out there walking the track, and meat was rationed, and a friend came up to our place one time, walks up, “You folks get up and come down to my place, and Screw Loose down there said he just hit a cow, so we’re gonna have first meat,” and it was cold and (unintelligible). Well, at that time, if you reported it and if you wanted it, you could have it. Well, we get down there and the man’s dead now (unintelligible)—we got out of there and he came into Vegas somewhere, and he didn’t need it because he got all his from the railroad, see, he could order anything he wanted from the railroad. And that’s where he would order us a sack of potatoes and a slab of bacon without any ration stamps, you know, things like that. But anyhow, we got out of there, what they darned fella had done, he come into Vegas, paid fifteen UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 13 dollars for an old car and went right out and weighed till a cow crossed the road, ran right smack into her (unintelligible) didn’t damage the meat too much. (Laughs) He couldn’t help it, she walked in front of him. Well, we had plenty of beef for a while. Then, there’s another time, he was nuts, but I liked him ‘cause he was. There was a carload of crying sheep going to L.A., and if he didn’t open the door and let ‘em all out—and Goodsprings and Jean and everybody was eating lamb for—(Laughs)—that’s how we got by World War II, you know. That was about the way it was. Do you remember his name? Johnny (unintelligible)—no, I can’t remember. We all just called him Screw Loose, that’s the way everybody knew him, Screw Loose. And he directly never got in any trouble. People was out sheep hunting. And another thing is in 1943, I married my husband. I had three legal names in a little less than an hour. And divorces at that time cost $131, $31 court costs, $100 for the attorney when his secretary did all the work. But had my maiden name restored, my name was Kelley—my maiden name was Willis—and married Bill in the first Methodist Church across from the courthouse. But they only had two district judges at that time, and one Judge Magnamee, and the other one was a native Nevadan, Burt Henderson. And they was able to handle all the cases. One year, I was called six times for jury duty in Goodsprings, five of ‘em murder cases. So, I went to Judge Henderson while he was out in Goodsprings, came out there—people raised rabbits, chickens, you know, so come out there and buy a fresh egg. And I asked him, I said, “Why am I called so often?” because, see, they only paid you one way, transportation one way, and I didn’t drive. My husband had to take a day off from work, and I didn’t make enough on jury duty to keep him drinking beer and eating while I was sitting on the jury. So, he lost his day’s pay on top of it. And they had a different way on the jury system then. Each UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 14 judge—a little later on there was a third judge came in—but each judge, it amounted to how serious the case was, would want so many prospective jurors, and you just went to that, where now, with this jury pattern, you go down there and you might be sent to any one. But (unintelligible) getting into, I mean, you know, what part of the case and everything it was going to be when you went in. But one of the ones that I was called for later on was where that Irwin killed a little girl on South Third, I think it was—killed her, she was four years old, then tried to rape her. And I got excused out of that, ‘cause I went in to the judge—Judge Henderson had told me, said, “Anytime you want to be excused, let us know as soon as you get your subpoena, because if you come in, then you have to say whether your picked or not until you found out.” But I went in on that one and I said, “You wouldn’t want me on that jury.” Nobody would—I said me, guilty. But like I said, for a long time, two judges could handle everything that came in, so you can see how big Las Vegas was on that part of it. Now, I think they have about eight or something like that. What year was that murder? It was in the fifties, but I can’t remember just when it was. And another case was here in North Las Vegas. North Las Vegas, like I said before, was very, very small. And the old car club was about the only place over here—one of the trials I was called for was a young fella had an argument with his uncle. He walked a mile to get a gun and walked back—walked two miles and came back and shot him. But I got called on that, too. But I got off it, (unintelligible) to me, it’s premeditated. You walked two miles, you got a chance to, you know, realize what you’re doing. And that was in the fifties, too. And I left Goodsprings, and we had to move then in ’64 on account of my husband’s health. But by that time, there wasn’t any in the mines working, and the people that were working were either working here in Vegas (unintelligible) had been with the UNLV University Libraries Irene Doty 15 telephone company—he’s been driving back and forth for lots of years. And one man from Sandy Valley drove all the way out—I mean, rode a motorcycle out to the Test Site. And that road, at that time, you probably heard him call the widow maker. And it was very, very dangerous until they did widen it out. But now, the town of Goodsprings is just probably all retired people. There’s only three or four that work out there, and most of the ones that live at Pop’s Oasis in Jean either work around there, are working. And out in Sandy Valley, like I said, they are building it up, more buildings, big trailers. And more or less, oh, what do you call it, farming— (Unintelligible) Truck farming, yes, instead of the (unintelligible) like they did on the melons and stuff like that. However, they are still raising hay out there. You had a story I believe you wanted to tell me from Searchlight? Oh, yes. What I wanted to tell you about Searchlight was this. See, before they build Davis Dam, they thought it was going to make a real city out of Searchlight. There was twenty-six liquor licenses issued for Searchlight. Not all of them was used, but the business in Searchlight (unintelligible). And it was interesting to see how fast some of those places burned out. (Laughs) All it wound up, it was just a spurt of energy for Searchlight, because most of their mines had shut down, too. And Searchlight is even older than Goodsprings as a town. And old Pop Simon used to (unintelligible) the Techatticup Mine out from Nelson, Lake Mojave, (unintelligible) now. But Sea