William Wilkerson - The Flamingo: Initial Stages

The Flamingo: Initial Stages

In 1944, Wilkerson's crisis forced him to take a more serious look at Las Vegas. He concluded that Las Vegas suited only die-hard gamblers like himself. However, Wilkerson, who loved gambling, hated the desert. Las Vegas lacked the distinctive elements of glamor and sophistication that Wilkerson had enjoyed in other places around the globe. Yet, in the end, the town's very remoteness and isolation helped convince the publisher that Las Vegas could become an ideal gambling location. He realized that there was a huge potential market for Las Vegas in Hollywood.

In December 1944, Wilkerson attempted to stem his gambling loses by leasing the El Rancho Vegas from then owner Joe Drown for six months. Wilkerson paid Drown $50,000 for the six-month lease. But the publisher had even greater ambitions. He knew that if he were to build in Nevada, he would need something much grander and larger in scale than he originally envisioned or had previously created in Hollywood – something that would accommodate far more than just a casino. He shrewdly sensed that no matter how magnificent the casino, Las Vegas would remain a hard sell to the snobbish movie crowd back home. Something fantastic would be needed to tempt Beverly Hills gamblers into crossing the desert.

In late January 1945, Wilkerson spotted a "For Sale" sign on a large parcel of land situated several miles out of town. He learned that the 33-acre (13 ha) lot belonged to Margaret M. Folsom and contacted his attorney Greg Bautzer to negotiate on his behalf. After an entire day and night of tough negotiation, Folsom sold Bautzer the property for $84,000. Under Wilkerson's specific instructions, Bautzer purchased the land in his own name. Wilkerson was known as a high-roller in Las Vegas and his open interest would have inflated the selling price. To increase security, the deed itself was not even recorded until November 21, 1945, some 11 months after the sale.

Wilkerson was determined that the resort would house all his passions under one roof. In addition, it had to be something extraordinary and unique, a gambling Mecca that would strike a stunning contrast to the competition in town. It also had to provide a quiet oasis for visitors who did not wish to gamble. For those who just wanted to relax, the complex would be a luxurious home-away-from-home, an insulated world of fine dining, high-quality floor shows and outdoor activities. Wilkerson first committed these ideas to paper in early 1945.

In late February 1945, Wilkerson summoned architect George Vernon Russell and decorator Tom Douglas to his Hollywood office. Both men had worked extensively on his Hollywood projects. During this initial meeting with Russell and Douglas, Wilkerson outlined his vision for several hours. To fill the 33 acres (130,000 m2) he envisioned a mammoth complex housing a casino, showroom, nightclub, bar-lounge, restaurant, café, hotel, indoor shops, and a health club with steam rooms and gym. Outdoors there would also be private bungalows, a swimming pool, tennis, badminton, handball and squash courts. A nine-hole golf course would also grace the property. For the more adventurous there would be a shooting range and stables housing forty-five horses. The publisher also ordered up a luxury hotel for his gamblers.

Then he turned the discussion to the casino. Wilkerson explained to the two men that he wanted to make it as easy as possible for patrons to lose their money. Here his goal was to design an ultra-gambling experience, a complete escape that allowed gamblers to indulge their passion in palatial luxury. The layout he had in mind was radical. It called for the casino to be placed at the center, "the hub" of the hotel. No guest would be able to move around the hotel without passing through the casino. There would be no windows. Based on his own experience, Wilkerson believed that daylight interfered with the gambler's concentration. No sunsets or sunrises would be visible from the crap or black-jack tables. No wall clocks would be installed, and the lights would be permanently dimmed. These elements, Wilkerson argued, would mask and conceal the true time of day, ensuring that time passed largely unnoticed. Wilkerson also wished to make the gambling experience as comfortable as possible. Before 1945, most gaming tables had hard edges. Wilkerson ordered custom gaming tables with curved edges and leather cushioned padding around the sides for extra comfort. He also felt standing diminished the pleasure of the game. Chairs and stools would be mandatory at every table. Wilkerson's project would be the first hotel in the U.S. to utilize the latest innovation in indoor cooling – air conditioning. With it, the desert would at long last become genuinely habitable.

There was also the question of a suitable name and logo for his new enterprise. Wilkerson usually named his projects long before they were completed. The inspiration for these exotic names came from his many travels. He also had a particular liking for exotic birds. After considering several ideas, all variations on exotic birds, he finally settled on the name of a magnificent pink bird he had seen during a trip to Florida. Wilkerson commissioned Hollywood graphic artist Bert Worth to design the logo for his new Las Vegas operation.

Although he had never built a casino before, Wilkerson knew enough to realize that no gambling operation could succeed without expert assistance. In his quest to create a first-class casino, he turned to skilled and experienced professionals who knew how to hire high-quality employees, from the croupiers to cashiers, lookouts and undercover security guards. Farming out the gambling operation of a casino to independent contractors was common practice. Casino owners regularly divided up the various tables and games to skilled operators who provided their own unique talents. Gus Greenbaum and Moe Sedway knew their business well. In 1945, they were running the El Cortez Hotel and had made a particular success of its gaming tables. For a percentage of the gambling profits and a silent partnership, they would manage and operate the casino and assume total responsibility for every facet of the gaming. They also agreed to help procure all necessary gambling permits. It was an effective match. Even though he was a gambler, Wilkerson knew little about the operation and management of a gaming establishment. By the same token, Sedway and Greenbaum lacked the publisher's flair for creating glamorous successes.

But as the plans grew, so did the project's budget. The building and completion estimates now totaled just under $1,200,000. Although Wilkerson accepted this figure, he did not have the ready cash to invest in the Flamingo. As much as he loathed borrowing, he approached the Bank of America for a loan. They declined to lend him the full amount and politely reminded him that they had extended him a line of credit for $200,000 the previous year, which he had used to cover gambling losses. Bank of America eventually agreed to finance $600,000 of the publisher's dream if he used his successful business as collateral. Surprisingly, additional funding came from longtime friend Howard Hughes, who owned a number of film-related businesses in Hollywood and had an annual advertising account with the Reporter. But Wilkerson was still $400,000 short of his dream. With characteristic confidence, he decided to make up the difference at the gaming tables. He risked $200,000 in April, only to lose it all.