I've often wondered what my grandpa Lacy would think of Fremont Street if he were still alive.
When I was younger, my brother and I spent some time with him and my grandma in Las Vegas. We occasionally ventured into Downtown. This was the older section of town, with a rougher, more stacked-together feeling than The Strip. I remember eating breakfast at Binion's Horseshoe, where our plate came with a ham steak that poured off the edges, a pile of hash browns, runny eggs, and toast over which my brother poured Tabasco sauce.
Afterward we crossed the street and Grandpa walked us through the Golden Nugget. He showed us a display case which housed a large, shiny yellow stone that supposedly was the largest chunk of gold in the world. It was, for sure, the largest chunk of gold on Fremont Street.
Grandpa was more familiar with Vegas than we were. He went there frequently to play poker. Over the years he gradually stopped making the 9-hour trip to Nevada and eventually took his game elsewhere.
That was over thirty years ago and Fremont Street has changed a lot since then.
The street gets its name from John C. Fremont, one of three explorers who share credit with discovering the area. The other two were Antonio Armijo and his scout, Rafael Rivera, who passed through during the winter of 1829-30. But it was Fremont who put it on the map.
During his second expedition, John C. Fremont pushed through what is now Utah and into Oregon. They returned by dropping south into California and passing through Sutter's Mill. After passing through a God-forsaken desert and enduring adventures with local Indians, Fremont and his group finally passed through the area now known as Las Vegas.
His entry for May 3, 1844 records:
“After a day's journey of 18 miles, in a northeasterly direction, we encamped in the midst of another very large basin, at a camping ground called Las Vegas⸺a term which the Spaniards use to signify fertile or marshy plains, in contradistinction to llanos, which they apply to dry and sterile plains. Two narrow streams of clear water, four or five feet deep, gush suddenly with a quick current, from two singularly large springs; these, and other waters of the basin, pass out in a gap to the eastward. The taste of the water is good, but rather too warm to be agreeable; the temperature being 71 in the one and 73 in the other. They, however, afford a delightful bathing place.”
Fremont's 1845 report of this trip included maps. 20,000 copies were made and every sensible person heading west had a copy. Thus, thousands of pioneers came west feeling more confident as a result of his observations.
Nowadays most people don't make the connection with Fremont Street and John C. Fremont, but rather conjure up images of the mob and notorious people such as Benny Binion and Tony Spilotro. This area of Sin City was once known as Glitter Gulch for all the neon lights. But behind all the sparkle were high-stake poker games and organized crime that got a blind-eye from city officials.
I talked to a guy recently who lived in Vegas during the 1970's. He loved it! And, ironically, he said, it was the mob who kept it safe. According to him, there was very little street crime because the mob would pick off the criminals. He said that now Vegas is a lot more dangerous than it used to be when the mob was in control.
During the 1990's Fremont Street received a drastic facelift. Due to the increasing popularity of The Strip, the Downtown area lost business and something had to be done. Consequently, the road was torn out and replaced with a pedestrian walkway. A gigantic neon canopy that spanned several blocks was stretched overhead. It was now a walker-friendly avenue that became known as The Fremont Street Experience.
I was unaware of all these changes and happened upon them in the early 2000's when I took my young family to show them one of my “childhood places.” I was shocked at the new Fremont Street and not sure if I liked it or not. At that time my grandpa was still alive, although a frail old man, and I returned home to give him the report. He listened with interest, never giving an opinion one way or another. Of course, the Fremont Street I saw that day was quite mild from that which I would witness in coming years.
Occasionally we returned as a family. My kids loved to watch the lights on the canopy overhead and people whizzing by on a zip-line. Live bands played on the walkway while my daughters and wife would dance. This place has become nostalgic for me because I recall Brittany dancing and having a blast, and this would be just a short year or two before she passed away.
Recently, now 2022, I returned to Fremont Street with my family. I admit that the more I go, the less I want to bring the kids. It's certainly not a family-friendly place anymore. Music blared from every corner and there was not a single space devoid of noise. We saw bands and also solo artists playing for coins.
Of course, there were the smells. The one I hated the most were the fumes of marijuana that seemed to permeate everywhere. But there was also the aroma of grilled hot dogs, street tacos and barbeque.
Probably the biggest draw of Fremont Street is the people-watching. From freaks to showgirls, this place has it all. There are artists spray-painting their works in front of a mesmerized crowd. Magicians dazzle the audience and pull objects from thin air. Beggars stand with nothing more than an overturned hat and sign, sometimes with brutal honesty admitting that all they want is enough money to buy some weed.
On this evening I came with my wife and three older daughters. As the years go by, I am always more hesitant to bring my kids because of all the filth. It seems to get sketchier all the time.
We were pressed for time so we didn't stop to see much. My wife and I have been on this street about a dozen times and nothing shocks us anymore.
There was a lot of alcohol consumption in the outdoor bars along the walkway. Consequently, there were also a lot of drunk people doing dumb things.
We walked up and down the street looking for a place to eat that wasn't too expensive. Although not as bad as The Strip, Fremont Street is starting to catch up with its high prices. It is certainly not the street of bargain deals like when my grandpa took us to Binion's Horseshoe.⸺Tonight we ended up eating the $8.99 prime rib dinner at the Fremont.
Afterward we had a funny experience. As I walked down Fremont Street I tried to clandestinely capture images that I could use for this blog post; pictures that spoke to the character of the place. They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
And what would encapsulate the essence of Fremont Street? Showgirls, of course! I walked past a couple of girls with their pink feathers, high-heeled boots and wearing almost nothing else. I casually raised my camera to sneak a picture. Not only did they see me, but they smiled, posed, and then waved for me to come over!
The next thing I knew, here was a Mormon boy carrying on a conversation with two showgirls while my wife and daughters were twenty feet away laughing their heads off! The showgirls were very nice and explained that I could have another picture with them, but they work for tips and accept credit cards if I didn't have cash. Flustered and not sure what to do, I politely declined and walked away. I had already taken my picture and hoped these girls would forgive me for not tipping them. ♠
