He was the King, until Vegas dethroned him.
In 1956, Elvis Presley, 21, ruled rock-n-roll. “Heartbreak Hotel” was the No. 1 record. Paramount Pictures signed him to a movie contract. His TV appearances electrified millions.
But when he first played Las Vegas, the town shrugged.
He was booked last on a triple-bill at The Frontier. Coming on after comic Shecky Greene, Elvis was allotted 12 minutes to perform four songs. Some people walked out, complaining about the noise.
“For the teenagers, he’s a whiz,” Variety reported. “For the average Vegas spender, a fizz.”
“Elvis in Vegas” by Richard Zoglin explains how Elvis changed his act and changed the town. But while the rocker snags sole billing, Frank Sinatra definitely, defiantly co-stars, along with a cool-cat culture that ruled the Strip for decades.
Until the boy from Tupelo seized the throne.
Las Vegas wasn’t even a city until 1905. Then the construction of the Hoover Dam in 1931 brought thousands of workers. The legalization of gambling the same year brought even more tourists.
It also brought the mob. After the war, it laid claim to the city that pops out of nowhere, with Bugsy Siegel opening the Flamingo in 1946.
Bugsy got whacked six months later when his bosses suspected him of skimming profits. But the hotel continued under new wiseguy management and was soon joined by new resorts.
They all had the same one-armed bandits, though, the same all-you-can-eat chuck wagon buffets. So, to hook the biggest spenders, hotels began competing to book the best entertainment.
It took a while. In 1954, the big headliner at the Last Frontier was Ronald Reagan. He shared the stage with a chimpanzee act. Other hotels booked past-their-prime stars like Ginger Rogers and Tallulah Bankhead.
They didn’t exactly draw crowds.
The mob upped the ante and started paying more to woo bigger names. Liberace was an early hit and turned into an unexpected mentor to Elvis. After the rocker’s dud debut, the pianist advised him to assemble a flashier stage wardrobe.
An admiring Elvis tried on Liberace’s gold lamé jacket. As soon as he could, Elvis put in an order for a whole suit.
Despite the lousy reception he initially received, Elvis liked Vegas. He also liked one of its burlesque stars, Tempest Storm. His manager, Col. Tom Parker was furious. Dating a stripper? What’ll that do to your image?
“I didn’t date her,” Elvis protested. “I just spent the night with her.”
But soon Elvis was away from temptation and in the Army. Vegas crowned its true king, Frank Sinatra.
Ol’ Blue Eyes ruled, headlining at the Sands and turning the strip into a real-life “Guys and Dolls.” Shooting the movie “Ocean’s 11” in Vegas in 1960, he and his Rat Pack buddies took over the hotel’s stage for weeks, singing, drinking and clowning around.
Most of the humor wouldn’t play today, with Sinatra and Dean Martin ridiculing Sammy Davis Jr. and joking about the Klan. But it killed then. All of Vegas made a killing, as tourists who couldn’t get into the Frank-and-Dino show went to see Steve and Eydie, or Tony Bennett.
The crowds loved the stars, and the stars loved Vegas, which lavished them with perks. Sinatra took advantage, too, especially at the Sands’ tables, where he pocketed his winnings and walked away from any losses.
Until early one morning in 1967, when casino boss Carl Cohen cut off his credit. Sinatra flew into a rage, confronting the stocky tough guy and dropping an anti-Semitic slur. Cohen clocked him, knocking out two of his caps.
The next day, Sinatra announced he was moving his act to Caesar’s Palace.
Vegas, though, was already moving on without him.
Rock-n-roll took a hit when Elvis went into the Army in ’58, but in ’64 the Beatles brought it roaring back into the mainstream. By the late ’60s, a cautious Vegas had started booking younger acts like Ike and Tina Turner, and Sonny and Cher.
Meanwhile, Elvis was ready to try something new, too. After a string of stinkers, his movie contract was winding down. He hadn’t had a No. 1 song since 1962. It was time to get back to basics.
First, he signed to do a TV show. Sponsored by a sewing-machine company, it was officially “Singer Presents Elvis” but was immediately dubbed “The Elvis ’68 Comeback Special.”
Sleek and sexy in black leather, singing better than ever, the star was back.
Now it was time for his Vegas comeback. Parker secured a month’s residency at a new hotel, the International, at $100,000 a week.
Elvis prepared carefully. He dropped in on Tom Jones’ show, to check out the latest hip-swiveling competition. Elvis assembled a tight new band and hired two backup singing groups.
Parker didn’t like it, not for Vegas. Where were the showgirls? Where was the chorus line?
Not in my show, Elvis said. When Parker argued, Elvis did something he had never done before: He hung up on him.
Opening night was July 31, 1969, with ticket prices a record $15. Celebrities from Ann-Margret to Cary Grant filled the audience. A star, who genuinely needed no introduction, Elvis walked on stage and grabbed the mic.
“Well, it’s one for the money/Two for the show…”
From the first notes of “Hound Dog,” the audience was screaming for more. And Elvis kept delivering, serving up old hits like “Jailhouse Rock” and “Love Me Tender” as well as new ones like “In the Ghetto” and “Suspicious Minds.”
He barreled through a career’s worth of material in a tight 75 minutes and left to a standing ovation.
The King was back, bolder than ever.
So was Vegas, thanks to him. Elvis brought in tourists who never ventured into the desert city before; Southern homemakers and Midwestern farmers, women in plastic jewelry and men in dungarees.
The old casino crowd scowled.
Where were all the big tippers Frank used to attract? Those dashing men in tuxes, and glamorous women in sequins?
The new corporate owners didn’t care. They built grander and gaudier casinos, adding bizarre attractions of erupting volcanos, and fake Eiffel Towers. Instead of a nightclub, the Vegas model was now an amusement park. Sin City became a flashier, fleshier Disneyland.
As Vegas got bigger, so did the shows. When Cher first returned as a solo act, she brought 15 Bob Mackie costumes and a mechanical bull. The days when a Vegas act meant Robert Goulet belting show tunes were gone. Now the spectacle ruled.
And all because of Elvis.
While he kept making his shows even bolder — striding onstage to the theme from “2001,” ending songs with dramatic karate poses —he was already gulping down too many pills. Bizarre rants marked his performances. At least once, he went onstage armed.
Eight years after his Vegas comeback, Elvis was found on his bathroom floor, dead of a heart attack. He was 42.
But his influence lingers in Las Vegas. The gigantic shows, full of flash and dazzle? The parade of rock and pop headliners, from Elton John to Lady Gaga? The ever-escalating ticket prices?
Elvis may be dead. But in Vegas, at least, he will never leave the building.
