The New Frontier imploded - Las Vegas Strip down one more historic landmark
I used to see it everyday, but just barely. Surrounded on all sides by newer, bigger, shinier buildings, The New Frontier (and I was told while I worked there that the “The” was always capitalized) never stood a chance on the modern day Strip.
The implosion has been covered through and through by the newspapers, but the old joint had stories far beyond its documented history.
I was fascinated by a story that Howard Hughes once built a secret passageway from the Desert Inn to The Frontier and often quipped that we should find it and sneak over to the Wynn to use its color copiers. I never did find it.
In its heyday, the hotel must have been quite a place to stay. Walking down the beat and worn down hallways, you couldn’t help but wonder what the walls had seen and heard throughout the years.
It was never much to look at in the later years of its life, but the last time I saw it was from a meeting room at Maggiano’s across the street and it sure looked terrible with most of its windows boarded up or missing.
Whenever I drove passed the hotel on the freeway I would point out to my fellow passengers where I worked. Impressed ohhs and ahhs quickly changed to hearty guffaws when they realized I wasn’t pointing at Wynn Las Vegas. In fact, they had to focus their attention much lower on the skyline to see the paltry 16-story Atrium tower against the mighty Wynn.
I sure was proud of it though. I’m not surprised to hear or read comments about how the hotel needed to be demolished. Nobody knew of just how decrepit the building was more than the people who worked there. We used to joke that the building was held together with bubble gum and duct tape.
By the time I left, it had become tradition to send people off with a bit of maroon duct tape and bit of carpet as a final good bye. I’ll always have a special attachment to that place.
I met some really good folk there - the Bednarowiczs, who were amazed that I could pronounce their name so effortlessly; Mr. Fritts, a real surly, but good-natured gentleman who once told me the reason he and the marketing director (my boss) butt heads was on account of him being too macho (a little gem I kept to myself until now); the Hayward clan, for whom we would always bend over backwards; the Lovelady’s, a local couple who were nice as can be; the Bingo ladies, who you ought never to cross; and, of course, the Weidaws.
Don’t know if I’ll ever see any of them again, but I can’t help but wonder where they’ll go now.
These were folk who weren’t interested in the glitz and glory of new properties. They liked the personal attention and intimate feel of The New Frontier. They liked talking to the bartenders, dealers, pit bosses, servers, cocktail waitresses, and marketing coordinators. And we all liked shooting the breeze with them.
You can’t stop progression and the Frontier was in the way. It’s a shame to see it gone, but Vegas is in the people and the times as much as it is the casinos and hotels. We may need to clear room every now and then, but we’ll always have the memories and the good old times.
