One last morning at the Riviera

Count me among those who was there when the celebrated Riviera casino and hotel closed its doors at noon Monday, May 4.

I showed up about 10 a.m. that morning, which was later than I wanted to arrive. Breakfast was too important to skip before heading over.

I parked in the ramp once again and noticed several people lined up to check out. I guess some people still do that.

It appeared that the main restaurant(s) in the casino were serving that morning. I was quite surprised, however, to find that the table games were all closed. I wanted to play a little blackjack that morning, but it wasn't in the cards. As a result, the automated craps machine was seeing more action than any weekday morning in years.

My first order of business was to connect with Sam. Sam stayed at the Riv during its final night. He does not live in Nevada, but he visits Vegas regularly, more so than I realized. I had only known him through his photos and, more recently, writing. He has shared a variety of great photos over the years, and now pens a few stories for Vegas Chatter. I had corresponded with him a bit prior to May 4, and he suggested contacting him when I arrived that morning.

As we were talking near the bar a few people he knew passed by and stopped to greet him, both local and out-of-towners, if I recall correctly. After a few minutes the group was ready to move on, as they planned to visit the "secret pool" above the casino. It was my mission to visit this pool area, and I mentioned to Sam I was going to tag along with the group. He agreed not only to join us, but took us up by the elevator that dumps you out right on the pool deck.

The secret pool was a separate pool area designed in the 1980s, but never used as a pool, as it had a structural flaw that resulted in it leaking into the casino when they attempted to fill it. Why they were unable to correct this flaw is unclear, but Sam knows a lot about the pool's history, and he shared it not so long ago on Vegas Chatter.

We took pictures of each other in the empty pool and talked for 15-20 minutes while standing around in the pleasant Vegas air. A few of us picked up a loose pool tile from the empty pool to take home as a souvenir. I had to have one. It's an odd Riviera souvenir, and one not many people own, I suspect.

I wish I had taken pictures of the pool from different angles. Sam's article shows the pool from several angles. Why I didn't take similar pictures I can't explain.

Eventually our group disbanded and Sam headed back to his room to pack up. I went back to the casino floor and walked around, waiting far too long for a $2 bottle of whatever beer they had left at the bar.

Outside the casino a crew was removing the "Crazy Girls" bronze sculpture prior to the casino closing. A bunch of people, as well as local TV crews, took photos and video of its removal from the casino wall. It was said this bronze sculpture weighed hundreds of pounds. I don't doubt it, as it took several men to transfer the sculpture to a trailer.

I watched TV reporters interview folks gathered outside the Riv that morning, or do live reports for their midday newscasts. I would have made a great interview, I'm sure, but nobody asked me for an interview. Their loss.

Inside the casino the food court was quiet. None of the restaurants were open that morning. I walked by the main pool and workers were putting up a fence around its perimeter. My theory is that they didn't want a group of protestors jumping in at noon when they were told the casino was closed. For some reason there were several $1 bills on the bottom of the pool in the 9-feet-deep end. Remember the glory days of hotel pools, when you could dive into a deep end. The old Frontier had a pool that was 12 feet deep on one end, if I recall correctly. There might still be one of those old, deep pools around, but I wouldn't know where.

A couple of the shops in the back of the Riv had merchandise on sale, but they weren't really trying to liquidate the inventory. I'm guessing the inventory was going to be packed up and sold elsewhere.

I'm not a very bold person, but I did venture up an escalator in the back of the property. The escalator was not running, and clearly it hadn't run in quite some time, as there was visible dust on the steps. Up at the top I found myself looking at the Riv's old buffet. I knew it had a buffet, and from what I had heard in recent years, it wasn't very good.

I stood at the front counter and surveyed the area. It looked like it had only been recently shut down. Chairs were sitting upside down on top of tables, the buffet stations looked clean and ready to be put to use and there were a few empty pans sitting in a stack. I'm pretty sure the buffet had been closed for a few years, but you'd think they had just shut it down a month before closing the casino. Had I been adventurous I would have walked back into the kitchen. I wouldn't have seen anything fascinating, I'm sure, I've been inside commercial kitchens. But I probably would have found  a lot of kitchen equipment still inside. I'm guessing the pots, pans, plates, utensils, as well as stoves, blenders and refrigerators were all still sitting there. I'll never know for sure.

I wouldn't be surprised, either, if the phone at the front counter was still operational.

I returned to the main casino for the closing, and the first announcement that the casino would close came five minutes before noon. Then another came at noon. Some folks, clearly longtime and former employees, had gathered together. There were a few cheers and hugs at noon.

Since the table games were closed, people decided to stand inside the pit and pose for a picture, as if they were the dealer. The craps machine was full of players, and a few minutes after noon a casino manager told the players that they had to cash out when the game "sevened out." I didn't stick around to see the game end.

As I slowly made my way toward the back of the property I watched as maintenance personnel began shutting off slot and video poker machines, and I passed a few people still feeding credits into operating machines. It was 10 or 12 minutes past noon as I was finally exiting the casino area, and there were a handful of players who had not yet been chased off their machine. I get not wanting to give up a hot machine, or knowing that your machine is just about to finally pay off, but to sit there trying to feed the machines minutes after the casino is closing seems a bit ridiculous.

Security personnel were locking the front doors at noon. They flushed everyone out the back of the building, where there was a long line waiting for cabs. I guess nobody planned for a mass exodus at noon, as there was a shortage of cabs to meet the demand.

Before I left I picked up some $1 and $5 casino chips from the cage. I needed just one $1 chip, but my friends wanted a $20 mix of chips, so I walked out with $21 of unredeemed chips.

I was a bit disappointed overall by the final morning at the Riv. I had been at the closing of O'Sheas three years earlier and it was quite a festive atmosphere. In discussing my observations with one of Sam's acquaintances a plausible theory emerged. When O'Sheas closed, it was with the intention of recreating it as part of the Linq development, and the casino was part of the Caesar's portfolio, a major, albeit debt-ridden, casino conglomerate. The Riv, conversely, wasn't part of a major chain, and its ownership was merely cashing out. Although it could have wrung several thousands of dollars out of the casino prior to closing, all that extra revenue was merely drops on the $190 million bucket, and therefore not worth a lot of effort.

Since the Riv was a bit isolated from the rest of the strip, it didn't have the same volume of traffic walking by its doors on closing day. O'Sheas, however, had plenty of foot traffic at center strip when it closed.

Although a bit disappointed by the overall party atmosphere, and the lack thereof, I still enjoyed my time, and am glad I planned a trip that allowed me to be there for the final hours of the Riv.

A few parting shots:

• The Riviera's once-active Twitter account is locked and dormant. Not really a surprise.

• About 10 days after it closed, a liquidator started selling off the contents of the Riv. Most reports are that the stuff is priced too high, although plenty of stuff has been sold. I wouldn't have expected the sale to last into June, but last I heard, it's still open.

The sale has provided access to all sorts of areas the common man never sees, from penthouse rooms to behind-the-scenes areas. Photos posted online show all sorts of interesting areas of the casino. Some, such as offices, looked like they had been abandoned in haste. Stacks of old documentation appear to be left sitting anywhere and everywhere.

While it was fun to be there for the Riv's closing, at this point I think I'd trade the experience for a chance to walk the hallways of the old building today.

If you're interested in some great pics of the abandoned Riv, check out the Twitter feed of @_Lucky45.

• As has been reported, a 48-year-old woman took advantage of the liquidation sale to commit suicide by jumping off of one of the towers. She landed near a pool, although it's not clear to me which pool it was. And it doesn't matter. It's always sad to hear stories like that, and it's an unfortunate footnote to the closing of the Riv.

• I tweeted several pics that morning, and some day I'll upload them to some online platform. I wasn't sure how many people would notice, or care, but it was nice to know that my work was followed/appreciated by a few people, particularly @VertigoDragon, who retweeted many of my pics. Thanks for sharing my labor of love.

One last night at the Riviera

I'm slow to recap my recent Vegas trip, but tonight I will finally chronicle a few memories from the final hours of the Riviera.

I arrived at the Riv sometime after 10 p.m. Vegas time on Sunday night. My flight arrived a couple hours earlier, and the only thing on my agenda that night was a cameo at the Riv.

With my girlfriend accompanying me we drove over from the Orleans and entered from the parking ramp side of the building. People were still checking in at 10 p.m. on the night before closing. That surprised me.

There was decent action in the casino that night, much better than a typical Sunday night, I'm sure. The table games were lively and full, and there were plenty of people congregating around the big casino bar. The bartenders didn't dazzle me with their hustle, and the guy serving us didn't seem very jovial, but he did his job. I'm sure it sucks knowing your longtime source of employment is about to disappear, but the tips were good that night, and most of us seemed in fine spirits, so why not enjoy the atmosphere?

As I had read, drinks were cheap. Any bottles of beer they had were $2, and they were pouring mixed drinks for $2. And they were pouring generously. They poured plenty of Captain Morgan in my cocktails. Down the street that drink would have cost me about $15 that evening. Ironically they still charged my girlfriend $2.75 for the one diet cola she ordered.

Plenty of people were taking pictures of the bronze butts outside. The bronze sculpture of women's backsides was installed in homage to the long running "Crazy Girls" show, a show I saw in January 1997 during my first visit to Vegas. I wasn't blown away by the craziness, that much I remember.

The Pinball Hall of Fame machines had already been removed, so that was a bummer for me, but not a surprise. Most of the dining spots in the food court were open, and there wasn't much happening there. The pizza joint was still charging about $5 a slice, despite the lack of a crowd lining up for the hot pie.

It had been a long day and I wanted to make a point to return by mid-morning on Monday, so after an hour or so we departed.

I had read that the final night of a casino is a huge party, so I was a bit underwhelmed by the turnout at the Riv. I know, it was a Sunday night, and it was on the north end of the strip, but I expected a little more than what I got. I wasn't too disappointed, however, as I knew Monday morning would provide me with a huge party.

I'll save the Monday morning finale for my next chapter.

Goodbye Riviera

I don't have a lot of great memories of the Riviera, or a lot of insight into how the iconic strip property evolved, and devolved, over the decades, but I do have a few memories of my time there.

My first trip to Vegas was in January 1997. I was on a charter package, and they were selling show tickets during the flight. My buddy and I bought two tickets to "Crazy Girls." It sounded like a lot of fun for a couple of 20-something guys. 

I don't remember much about the show all these years later, but I do remember that I wasn't blown away by the craziness, or the number of girls dancing up a storm. Was it topless? Hell if I remember. It was a small cast, that danced and did routines to music. It didn't leave me wanting to come back for more. 

Back in the days when there was pedestrian traffic at the north end of the strip, the Riviera had an area, almost separate from the casino if I recall correctly, for nickel slots and other low-rolling gamblers. It seemed to be a busy place, and it had a concession stand with cheap eats. I'm pretty sure the quality of the eats was in line with the price, but it seemed to be a good draw. I can't figure out why that wasn't worth maintaining during the Riv's declining years. 

When poker became all the rage about a decade ago there was a "poker room" in every casino. I played in a weekday morning tournament at the Riv several years ago. It drew but a few tables of players, at the most. I think it was 2007. It wasn't a bad draw for a weekday morning in January, all things considered. I didn't win any money. I might have foolishly folded a hand I should have called with. 

I stayed for two nights at the Riv about five years ago. I was planning a trip to Vegas and had two nights booked at Orleans. I wasn't sure where I was staying the rest of my trip. I ended up staying a third night at Orleans and then spending my final two nights at the Riv because I had learned of some online promotion offering two free nights, simply by signing up for them via the Riv's website. It was that simple. I booked those two nights about two weeks before my trip. That worked out nicely. 

My room wasn't bad, but it did show signs of its age. I don't remember what tower I was in, and I didn't ask for any special accommodations. Based upon that stay, I wasn't anxious to pay for a room at the Riv again any time soon, and I wasn't going to be comped a room by them, I was certain. I don't think I ended up gambling in their casino during my stay. 

I have visited the Riv a few times in recent years solely for the purpose of playing pinball. I loved having 24-hour access to pinball at the Riv, courtesy of the Pinball Hall of Fame. I didn't exploit that benefit enough, unfortunately. 

I ate a meal at the Riv's food court during a solo trip a few years ago. Damn depressing. Eating in a mostly empty food court is a depressing feeling. I wondered how any of those little restaurants made enough to pay the monthly bills. My theory was that their rent was free, as it was the only way the Riv could keep a food court open. 

Speaking of paying the rent, during that hotel stay about five years ago I walked around the back of the property and saw there were a few shops back there. A souvenir stand with sunscreen and other products you might need for an afternoon at the pool, that made sense. There was also a tattoo parlor, which claimed it is "world famous." Sure, they all are. 

Honestly, who seeks out a tattoo parlor in the back of the Riviera? How did they build enough of a business in such a lousy location to pay the rent? The economics of it made no sense to me.

A year or two ago I was in the Riv for an hour prior to heading home. It was a weekday afternoon, I think, but damn, the casino was quiet. There were but a few blackjack tables open, and they had $10 minimums. That seemed rather odd to me. 

The Riv has a lot of history, an old school vibe and once was an entertainment and vacation mecca. In recent years it became a cheap alternative for people who really wanted to stay on the strip or needed relatively easy access to the convention center. 

When word of its impending doom came earlier this year, it shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone who has been inside the joint in recent years. The writing was on the wall.