About ten times in my life, I've been asked to write and help assemble shows for Las Vegas…and about ten times, the deals have fallen through. You'd think it would just be a matter of Caesars Palace or Bally's putting up the necessary cash to hire me and all the other participants…but it doesn't work that way. At least, it hasn't with any of the projects I've been offered. In each case, the show was to be "four-walled." That means the casino rents its showroom to an outside producer who must come up with all the necessary cash and assume all the necessary risk.
That's right. Casinos don't like to gamble. Maybe that's why they have more money than any of us.
This article discusses what some of the performers in the smaller showrooms face in trying to turn a profit. The shows I might have worked on were all larger and therefore, the financial complications were greater. Each time, someone had 50-75% of the financing they'd need to go forward but were unable to secure the rest of the bucks.
I never expended a lot of my time or hopes on these propositions…just took a few meetings, mostly to learn. It got so when I was approached about a new one, I'd think, "Hmm…it might be fun and educational to watch this one not happen."
Out of all this, I got a few free trips to Vegas and comped hotel rooms in exchange for spending a few hours talking with producers, talent and perhaps some hotel's entertainment director. A friend of mine once endured three hours at the Stardust (or maybe it was the Flamingo Hilton) listening to a sales shpiel about vacation time shares and he came away from it with free tickets to see Wayne Newton. I spent an hour with the guy who booked Wayne Newton discussing a possible show that might replace Wayne Newton, and I came away from it with my airfare, room and meals paid-for. Even better, I didn't have to go see Wayne Newton.
The closest any of them came to opening was a glittery showgirls-and-variety extravaganza that was initially budgeted at, I believe, $3,001,000. The thousand dollars was to be my pay for many weeks of work, though there would have been more loot if and when the show reached "breakeven." Of the remaining three mil, about 10% would go to acts — magicians, acrobats and the guy who'd juggle the books to make sure they never reached "breakeven." Another 5% went for sequins and feathers and for showgirls to not wear very many of them. Another 15% went for sets and lights and music and people to handle them or to sit around and watch those who did. Another 35% went to the casino for the privilege of letting us come in, use their showroom and attract people to come in and gamble. And the rest went for promotion and payoffs.
Payoffs would include bribes to ticket brokers and to others who might generate a positive "buzz" about our show. Four people were to be hired to each spend 8-10 hours a day taking cabs around Vegas, telling the drivers about this great show they'd seen the previous night, and how it should be recommended to every passenger. This was actually in the budget, and the entrepreneur trying to assemble things swore to me it had been done before with other projects and had yielded "po$itive re$ult$." He even managed to pronounce the dollar signs as he said it. I think the moment I realized this show was not in my future was when I noticed that I would make less money writing and helping stage it than I would if I rode around in taxis and raved about it. Also, they wanted me to work topless.