By Scott Dickensheets
Bob Stupak.
Phone tag with Bob Stupak can be a one-sided affair. Either you get an earful of voice-mail attitude--"The mailbox belonging to Bob Stupak is full. Please hang up"--or a load of static. At last, however, the static dissolves, the phone is answered and, two days before Christmas, you meet the Las Vegas legend in decidedly unlegendary surroundings--the Blue Diamond Saloon, a down-market grog spot on the southwestern edge of town.
"This is what I call one of my f---off days," he chuckles, explaining, rather needlessly, why he's drinking with an old friend at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday. The air is smoky and the jukebox unnaturally loud; the bar is decorated with holiday drunks. His friend asks, "Will you drop him off at my place when you're done?"
How does one sum up Bob Stupak in a brief intro like this? So many descriptives apply: builder of the startling and sublime Stratosphere Tower; offerer of suspect promotions at Vegas World; issuer of oddball challenges (daring Donald Trump to a round of Trump: The Game); improbable seeker of the mayor's office; slapper of impertinent TV reporters; bettor (and winner) of $1 million on the 1989 Super Bowl; near-fatal crasher of his motorcycle; purveyor of a mildly successful novelty Christmas tune ("Jake the Flake") with gal pal Phyllis McGuire; and holder of disputed Horseshoe casino chips.
Yet, for all his bravura, Stupak's ego isn't bulletproof. After your chat, as you drive him to his friend's place, he wonders, apropos Question No. 5, "What do you think my image is?"
If you could give the city any gift, what would it be?
That's a hard question. I always think that I already gave the city the ultimate gift [the Stratosphere Tower]. Every day, everyone who looks at it sees me. But I understand what you're saying. You know, the city is in great shape. But I'm from the old school; I liked it better when it was much smaller. I remember when chips were the same as cash--you could go down to pay your power bill or get your phone turned on. Way back then, you know, barbershops were open 24 hours a day. Shows were always 8 and midnight, then there was a 2 o'clock show, a 5-in-the-morning show. If there was anything I could give, it would be a return to the old days.
What do you think the future of the city's going to be like?
It's gonna get huge! [Laughs.] It needs diversification. I never believed that before. The casinos can't be the whole game anymore. Other things will come into play. I think the movie industry will come here. I think it will replace Hollywood, or be a close competitor to Hollywood. And there'll be others. We have to have something.
What role do you see yourself playing?
Perhaps building another place, something absolutely different. The last thing we need is another 100,000-square-foot casino with a box of rooms on top. Anything that happens now has to be, you know, "Las Vegasized." It has to be something that could only happen here. I've been exploring a couple of different areas like that.
What's it like to look up at the Stratosphere and know you're no longer involved in it?
I don't think of it like that. Every time I see it, I always think of it as mine. That's just the way I think. It established a great track record for me. The difference before the tower and after the tower is that I can call anyone and just about everybody will take the call. When I go to New York and talk to anyone, or meet with investment bankers, the conversation always gets around to the tower. I have to get that out of the way to talk about what I want to talk about. I still own a piece of it ... it'll never leave the portfolio.
What do you think your image in Las Vegas is?
It's impossible to have a bad story now. Years ago if there was a negative story, it could affect me for a day. It could make the day bad. But now I think I can do anything in Vegas. I think it's fun that way. But image-wise, I've always thought there are fans and nonfans, and the neutral is very small.
Did your motorcycle accident rearrange your outlook on life?
Yeah, simply because I discovered I wasn't infallible. Now I appreciate every day much more. It gives you a perspective on life itself. You wake up and you're alive. I mean, it's different, I'm easier now. I read old magazines from 10, 15 years ago, and I say, "Why did I say that? What was I thinking at the time to say those things?"
What do you have in your pockets right now?
I don't have any identification, I know that. I have my computer [an electronic address book]. Wonderful invention. Everybody's name is in here--and some names I would think are pretty impressive. I have their home number, their office number, their girlfriend's number, their cell-phone number. And then I have my telephone. And with those two things, I'm in the world.
Scott Dickensheets is the writer of a mildly successful novelty column for the Las Vegas Sun
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