Being Oscar (39 page)

The war on drugs is nonsense. If you can’t accomplish what you set out to do, and it’s clear that we can’t, then it’s not worth talking about. You’re just a blowhard.

If I had had the power, I would have legalized all drugs in Las Vegas. I think it’s the right thing to do. I would have advocated for changes in the federal laws, too.

I’ll tell you another thing I would have done, and this has nothing to do with prostitution or drugs. I’m concerned about young people in this country. Too many of them seem to lack a sense of community. They’re devoid of feelings other than for themselves and their small group of friends. And I think part of the reason is an overall decline in personal interaction.

A benevolent dictator could do something about this. If I had the power, I’d make everyone who bought one of those social media conveyors—a smart phone, an iPad, those kinds of things—take a test before they could start using the product. They would have to shake a hand, look someone in the eye, blow someone a kiss. People have forgotten how to do this. All they do is use their thumbs to interact.

If Darwin is right, and I think he is, within the next couple of generations the thumb will become the largest appendage on the human body. This could cause all kinds of problems, not the least of which would be the ability to throw a pitch.

I already know a little bit about that. Just stay away from that rosin bag.

I
t’s been a great run, and the beauty of it all is that it’s not over. As I look back, it occurs to me that only in Las Vegas could I have lived the life that I did. Carolyn and I made the right choice coming out here. My law career and my three terms as mayor are certainly a part of what I’m talking about, but there were other, greater accomplishments.

Carolyn is extraordinary. Would you believe that during fifty years of marriage, she’s only asked me for three things? When we first moved to the desert, she asked me to buy her a horse. To me, that was a signal that she was ready to embrace the “western life” that I was exposing her to. I got her a horse, “Moon Lad.” He was 7/8ths thoroughbred and 1/8th quarter horse, and he stood seventeen hands high; a real horse. She loved him.

When I started earning big bucks, Carolyn asked if I would buy her a Mercedes. I got her the car, and she treasured it. She kept the first one for sixteen years. She has another Mercedes now, but her favorite car is her 1990 Suburban, which is really good during the flash flood season. Anytime she parks that car, someone leaves a note under the windshield wiper asking if she’s interested in selling it. No one ever leaves a note on the Mercedes.

Her third request was to meet the Queen of England someday. We’ve been to London several times for the Convention and
Visitors Authority, but so far, I’ve struck out. I haven’t been able to deliver on that last request. If anyone has read this far and happens to know the Queen, please call me. I’ll arrange a game of pool for you with Prince Harry the next time he’s in Las Vegas if you can set up a curtsey for Carolyn.

Las Vegas also provided us with our four incredible children. As I said, Carolyn raised the kids while I was traipsing around the country representing people in trouble, but we both take the greatest pride in our sons and daughter, who they are and what they are accomplishing.

Carolyn had a rule. When the kids went off to college, she told them that once they earned their final degree and started their careers, they would have to live away from Las Vegas for three years. Because of my situation as mayor, she thought they should establish themselves somewhere else without the potential influence, for better or worse, of being the children of the city’s top elected official.

Oscar Jr. is an MD with a PhD; an oncologist who’s doing cancer research. He graduated from Swarthmore College and Thomas Jefferson University Medical School in Philadelphia, and then went to work at New York Presbyterian Hospital. He was recruited and came back to work at the Las Vegas Cancer Institute. The nicest thing in the world is to have someone say to you, “Your son is my husband’s doctor, and he saved my husband’s life.”

Ross, our middle son, is a wonderful lawyer. After earning degrees at the University of San Diego and University of Tulsa Law School, he completed his reserve commitment as a Major in the U.S. Marine Corps, serving at Quantico, Cherry Point, and the Washington Navy Yard. Upon returning to Las Vegas he has
achieved several multi-million dollar verdicts and has had the thrill of hearing verdicts of “not guilty.”

Eric, our youngest boy, gave us all we could handle. At one point he dropped out of college and Carolyn said that was his choice, but he wasn’t going to live at home. For a time he worked in a carpet factory here in town. I think he was the only employee who had a legitimate social security card; everybody else was a felon. He took advantage of those second chances I’m always talking about in Las Vegas and went back to college. He graduated from Ohio Wesleyan and then, of all things, went to the University of Pennsylvania Law School. He spent some time at a big Philadelphia law firm, then came back home. He was recently elected a judge in Las Vegas Township Justice Court.

Cara, our daughter and our youngest, went to Stanford after graduating from the Meadows School. She was the only one of our children to go to the Meadows; the others were too old. She stayed to get her master’s at Stanford, and then worked for a time in San Francisco as a human resources consultant before coming back to Las Vegas, where she works as a family therapist.

When she applied to Stanford, she wrote, “I know you only consider the top ten percent of the class. I am the top third.”

There were only three students in the first graduating class at the Meadows.

All four of our children came back. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s great to have them and their families come over for Sunday dinner or to watch a football game with me. Carolyn cooks their favorite meals, and we just enjoy one another.

It all makes me wonder about that age-old argument of nature versus nurture; whether the environment or heredity determines how one turns out. No one wins the argument with our family; Carolyn says each of their personalities is distinct and unique.

Oscar Jr. was asked about that in an interview published in a local magazine,
Vegas Seven
, back in 2011. The interviewer noted that Oscar’s parents were both highly accomplished individuals who had adopted four children, and that those four children in turn were highly accomplished in their own right. To what did he attribute that?

“It was the upbringing,” he said. “It really speaks to the environment versus the genes [debate]. I think we’re a case study . . . the environment . . . makes the difference, and particularly parenting. It’s a huge part of upbringing. It’s probably 80 percent, and schools are the other 20 percent. My parents really bestowed values on all of us. I heard the golden rule a million times: ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ And whenever you decide to do something, don’t just think of yourself, think of others.”

When my final term as mayor was about to expire, Carolyn and I were looking forward to retirement and maybe traveling a little. She had stepped down at the Meadows after running the school for twenty-six years. But I could see that she was restless. One day she said to me, “I’ve cleaned the house once. I’ve cleaned it twice. I don’t want to clean the house again. I want to do something meaningful.” I wasn’t sure what she meant or what she had in mind, but retirement wasn’t in the cards for either of us.

On July 6, 2011, I swore in my wife as the twentieth mayor in the history of Las Vegas. The pundits joked about a dynasty, and Carolyn, as always, was ready with an answer.

“We’ve got four children and six grandchildren,” she said. “You have no idea what a dynasty is.”

When she first mentioned that she was considering running for mayor, I was less than encouraging. I didn’t want her to have
to deal with all the petty bickering, the squabbling, the treachery and chicanery. I have a thick skin, and it rolled off my back. But I didn’t want her to be exposed to the meanness of some people. Politics is full of greedy, envious, and jealous individuals who are always playing games and looking for their own advancement. Carolyn isn’t like that. Don’t get me wrong; she’s just as tough as I am, and in many ways tougher. I just didn’t want her to have to go through that.

Her argument to me, however, was simple, and obviously aimed at the large ego that she, over the years, had come to recognize was part of my make-up.

“Who’s going to finish what you started?” she asked. “Someone else will have a different agenda.”

I couldn’t argue with that. And to my mind, no one was better qualified to succeed me. She had raised our four children, gotten her master’s degree, and founded the Meadows. Her accomplishments spoke for themselves.

A few days before the filing deadline, I told her that if she was going to run, she should do it now, and not on the last day because her announcement would get lost in the weekend news cycle. The next morning, when we woke up, I said, “I really don’t think you should do it.”

“I’m going for it,” she said.

What else could I do? I became her biggest supporter.

There were eighteen candidates in the original field, and three were elected officials who had never lost a race before. One candidate was a multi-millionaire with deep pockets. Several others had ties to a variety of special-interest groups who were happy to fund their campaigns. But from the get-go, it was Carolyn’s race. She won going away, capturing 61 percent of the vote. And she’s been great. Like me, she didn’t need the job, but she wanted it. That makes all the difference.

I moved on to the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority,
where I work as a spokesman and an ambassador-at-large for Las Vegas. My actual title is chairman of the authority’s Permanent Host Committee. The committee’s goals are to educate the public on the importance of tourism and to make tourists aware of how much we appreciate their presence.

The bottom line is that I’m a brand. I show up at events with a showgirl on each arm and a martini in my hand. That’s Las Vegas.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Among other things, I’ve licensed my persona to the restaurant at the Plaza Hotel downtown. The hotel was totally renovated as part of the renaissance there. The site is historic; it’s where a land auction occurred on May 15, 1905, that was really the birth of Las Vegas.

As I said earlier, the restaurant is called “Oscar’s Beef, Booze and Broads.” It’s become pretty popular, and I try to stop in as often as I can. They’ve got a giant martini glass always ready for me. I enjoy meeting the customers and telling them stories about my time as a criminal lawyer and my years in City Hall. Stop in and say hello the next time you’re in town.

Life is still full for both Carolyn and me. She’s working twenty-four/seven for the city. I’m trying to stay relevant, but I feel a little like Aesop telling my fables to anyone who’ll listen. It’s been a great life; I wouldn’t change a thing. And I guess if you can say that, there’s really nothing else that needs to be said.

People ask me if I miss being mayor. I tell them it’s more fun sleeping with the mayor.

Since this is the first book I’ve written, I’m not really sure how the acknowledgement part goes so I’m just going to wing it.

It goes without saying that my family was my mainstay and I can’t say enough about all of them. But there also were a lot of other folks along the way who helped to shape Oscar, and those I also want to thank.