The Riviera Hotel in Las Vegas has closed and the company that purchased all its slot machines should have removed them from the premises by now. Other tangibles in the building are being sold off and soon, the aging structure itself will be razed and in its stead will rise an extension of the Las Vegas Convention Center.
I don't believe that in all my many trips to that city, I ever actually stayed at the Riv…but I gambled there and I saw shows there and I ate there and a lot of comedians that I knew played its comedy club so I was often hanging out there. I recall one time Bill Kirchenbauer was headlining in that room and we had to go through a little ritual. There was a gentleman who worked for the Riviera who was in charge of the comedy club, a large guy named Steve. Each evening between shows, Steve could and would arrange to "comp" dinner for the comedians. The comp was usually good for two — in this case, Bill and his wife — and Bill wanted to introduce me to Steve so the comp would be for three. "Just be friendly with the guy," Bill told me, "and joke with him a little."
I'm all for free meals so I went along with this. He introduced me to Steve, we chatted a little, I said something that made Steve laugh and he said to Bill, "Hey, Kirchenbauer. Your friend's funny so I'm making your comp for three tonight. Take him to dinner!" It was only a twenty dollar steak in the coffee shop but it was one of those times in Las Vegas when I really felt I'd won something. Then Steve told me, "Hey, next time you're coming to Vegas, give me a call and we'll set you up with a free room here."
I never took Steve up on the lodging portion of his generosity but I did see him again…when I watched The Sopranos. His full name was Steve Schirripa — casino employee turned actor.
That must have been twenty years ago and the Riviera was already getting shabby then. Other hotels of its era underwent zillion-dollar upgrades to remain competitive with new megaresorts. The Riviera occasionally put in new carpeting here and there. As its neighbors like the Stardust and the Sahara and the Frontier and the Desert Inn went away, it was only a matter of time.
In addition to seeing friends in its comedy club, I recall seeing Splash! there — a big, noisy show that at one point represented a modern, contemporary version of the classic Vegas revue. "Noisy" was its outstanding quality. The sexy showgirls and the promise of great acts would draw you in. The decibel level would cause you to leave before it was over…and it wouldn't surprise me if that was a deliberate effort to get you out of the showroom and back to the gaming tables and the slot machines sooner.
The buffet at the Riv was cheap, never crowded and pretty lousy except that the dessert table had an orange meringue cake that was among the best things I ever tasted back when I ate that kind of thing. And for a few years there, I found another, even better reason to go to it. Splash! did two shows a night. I don't recall how I figured this out but I realized that if I got to the buffet about fifteen minutes after the early show concluded, it would be full of showgirls grabbing a comped meal there between performances. They all had their stage makeup on with their eyes and lips painted to appear extra-large but they were otherwise in sweats and old clothes.
There was something very colorful and sexy about it and I almost always struck up a conversation with one of them and was invited to bring my tray and myself over to their table. When I was alone in town, I especially appreciated the conversation and the friendliness and once, one of the ladies took me backstage for the second show and we wound up going out afterwards. We are still friends, albeit now just of the Facebook variety.
Most reviewers thought the Riviera Buffet was the worst in town. That was probably true if you just went there to eat.
The casino was fine for gaming, though one time I got into a dispute with a Blackjack dealer. We "pushed," meaning we tied and I neither won nor lost my bet…but the guy wasn't paying attention and he collected my money anyway. I objected. "That was a push," I told him. He said, "No, you had seventeen and I had eighteen." I said, "No, I had eighteen. Look at the cards." Others at our table told him he was wrong but he insisted he was right and also said he wasn't allowed to look back into the pile of played cards. (I never heard of such a rule anywhere else and doubt there was one there.) He then grabbed them all up and shuffled, destroying the evidence.
It was only five dollars at stake but if I'm going to lose five bucks, I want to really lose five bucks. I called over the Casino Host — the dealer's supervisor — and explained the situation. Others at the table backed me up. The Casino Host said the dealer was an experienced pro who wouldn't make such a mistake. I said, "Yeah, well I'm highly experienced at adding ten and eight and getting eighteen."
Getting nowhere, the Host agreed to phone the "eye-in-the-sky" department and have someone check the tape. Play continued at the table while they rewound up there but I stepped away, refusing to go on at least until the matter was resolved.
About three minutes later, the folks upstairs called the Host back. He listened to what they had to say, then handed me a slip refunding my five dollars and said, "They say you were wrong but to be good sports, we're going to refund your money anyway." I said, "In other words, they said I was right but you're not supposed to admit your dealer made a mistake." He gave me a wink and muttered, "Something like that." I cashed in the slip and my remaining chips and I don't think I ever gambled at the Riviera again. It wasn't a matter of principle. It was just time to go to the buffet for a serving of orange meringue cake with a side of showgirls.
I'd say "I'm going to miss that hotel" but that cake and the show my friend was in were gone long ago…and the last few times I was there, it looked like a hotel that could have imploded if they'd just revived Splash! at the same volume. So I missed it a long time ago. If anything, I miss the era of Vegas that it represented.