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The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Is that Elvis hitting the Vegas slot machines? Michael Rababy's best photograph
As a kid, I would see a new casino every time I visited Vegas with my family. They were huge, multimillion dollar investments and even then, I knew that money had come from people losing it in machines. That's probably why I don't gamble. My dad only actually took us into a casino a couple of times, but I remember him believing he would win and my mother being more rational about it. Thinking about it now, it's absurd to take your kids to Vegas. My friend Rich remembers his parents checking him and his brother in at the Circus Circus hotel and casino – I think there was maybe a trampoline for children to jump on while the parents gambled. Afterwards, they'd hand in their ticket and pick the kids up again, like you do with your coat at the theatre. In my 20s, I'd go to Vegas with friends and, while they were gambling, I'd be documenting, running around and taking photos wherever I could. I began to realise that the gap between the absurd commercials we have in the US for casinos that promise the world, and the reality that I was seeing, was huge, almost to a comical degree. The photographs I'd been accumulating started to form a cohesive body of work, showing the contrast between the glamour in the marketing, and the actuality – which is more like going to the airport than a big night out in Monte Carlo. I took trips to places well known for their casinos, such as Reno, Nevada and Atlantic City, and whenever I was somewhere in the US that had one, I would seek it out. I tend to use a hit and run approach when photographing inside them. If I see security looking at me, or if other people are becoming aware of me, I'll just move on – there's always an embarrassment of riches to photograph, you could just go to the next table, or even the next casino. I also don't want to be perceived as someone who might be helping someone cheat, so I try to avoid any card games. I feel like I'm setting the stage for a story, and then you let your mind fill in the blanks. This photograph of an Elvis impersonator is an example of that – one image that says 1,000 words. It's pretty much the iconic image of my Casinoland book. Elvis was the king but there was a darker side to him too, which reflects the difference between the marketing of casinos and their reality. The photograph was taken in 2012 and it epitomises Vegas – not just because of Elvis, but also the lights and the colour. For some reason I feel more emotion when there's more saturation in an image. There's so much distraction going on here, but it all frames the king in the centre. He's kind of slumped back at the slot machine: you see him from the back but you know exactly who he is. Often players go into a particular mental state at the slot machines, where they seem to be aware of nothing else. They get locked into a zone where it's just them and the machine. I could often get pretty close, and was able to capture what was happening without them seeing me. You have to be careful though – people have come at me a couple of times. On one occasion, when I was still shooting on film, the sound of my Olympus woke a guy I'd just photographed slumped across a machine, and he really wanted to fight me. There was no reasoning with him. I managed to dodge into a club and amazingly the velvet rope kept him at bay – he wouldn't cross it. Nowadays I carry a small Fuji, but phone cameras have got good enough for me to use for stealth work. If I pick up my Nikon with its longer lens, it's like I'm about to point a gun at someone. In the age of social media, people are much more suspicious of a photographer's motives than they used to be, but I am a positive person and want the best for everybody. Someone described my work as documenting the fall of an empire in the deserts of Nevada, but I'm doing it with a sense of humour and a light touch. Born: Ohio, 1969Trained: 'Studied art history at the University of San Diego, spent many hours at the Museum of Photographic Arts bookstore in Balboa Park, and regularly snuck into film classes. I fell in love with photography while studying in Florence, Italy, in my second year of college and have been pretty much self-taught since then by looking at paintings in museums and watching great 'Henri Cartier-Bresson, Brassaï, Helen Levitt, Bill Owens, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Hunter S Thompson.'High point: 'As a Pollyanna optimist, I have to believe my high point has yet to happen – but having Edward Snowden share an image I created with The Yes Men stands out.'Low point: 'To survive as an artist you have to accept a barrage of rejection and move on.'Top tip: 'Chuck Close noted that photography is one of the easiest art forms to learn but the hardest to find your voice. I recommend learning as much craft as you can, but at some point you have to look deep inside yourself to carve your path.' Michael Rababy will be signing copies of Casinoland – Tired of Winning on 11 July at Arles photography festival
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Is that Elvis hitting the Vegas slot machines? Michael Rababy's best photograph
As a kid, I would see a new casino every time I visited Vegas with my family. They were huge, multimillion dollar investments and even then, I knew that money had come from people losing it in machines. That's probably why I don't gamble. My dad only actually took us into a casino a couple of times, but I remember him believing he would win and my mother being more rational about it. Thinking about it now, it's absurd to take your kids to Vegas. My friend Rich remembers his parents checking him and his brother in at the Circus Circus hotel and casino – I think there was maybe a trampoline for children to jump on while the parents gambled. Afterwards, they'd hand in their ticket and pick the kids up again, like you do with your coat at the theatre. In my 20s, I'd go to Vegas with friends and, while they were gambling, I'd be documenting, running around and taking photos wherever I could. I began to realise that the gap between the absurd commercials we have in the US for casinos that promise the world, and the reality that I was seeing, was huge, almost to a comical degree. The photographs I'd been accumulating started to form a cohesive body of work, showing the contrast between the glamour in the marketing, and the actuality – which is more like going to the airport than a big night out in Monte Carlo. I took trips to places well known for their casinos, such as Reno, Nevada and Atlantic City, and whenever I was somewhere in the US that had one, I would seek it out. I tend to use a hit and run approach when photographing inside them. If I see security looking at me, or if other people are becoming aware of me, I'll just move on – there's always an embarrassment of riches to photograph, you could just go to the next table, or even the next casino. I also don't want to be perceived as someone who might be helping someone cheat, so I try to avoid any card games. I feel like I'm setting the stage for a story, and then you let your mind fill in the blanks. This photograph of an Elvis impersonator is an example of that – one image that says 1,000 words. It's pretty much the iconic image of my Casinoland book. Elvis was the king but there was a darker side to him too, which reflects the difference between the marketing of casinos and their reality. The photograph was taken in 2012 and it epitomises Vegas – not just because of Elvis, but also the lights and the colour. For some reason I feel more emotion when there's more saturation in an image. There's so much distraction going on here, but it all frames the king in the centre. He's kind of slumped back at the slot machine: you see him from the back but you know exactly who he is. Often players go into a particular mental state at the slot machines, where they seem to be aware of nothing else. They get locked into a zone where it's just them and the machine. I could often get pretty close, and was able to capture what was happening without them seeing me. You have to be careful though – people have come at me a couple of times. On one occasion, when I was still shooting on film, the sound of my Olympus woke a guy I'd just photographed slumped across a machine, and he really wanted to fight me. There was no reasoning with him. I managed to dodge into a club and amazingly the velvet rope kept him at bay – he wouldn't cross it. Nowadays I carry a small Fuji, but phone cameras have got good enough for me to use for stealth work. If I pick up my Nikon with its longer lens, it's like I'm about to point a gun at someone. In the age of social media, people are much more suspicious of a photographer's motives than they used to be, but I am a positive person and want the best for everybody. Someone described my work as documenting the fall of an empire in the deserts of Nevada, but I'm doing it with a sense of humour and a light touch. Born: Ohio, 1969Trained: 'Studied art history at the University of San Diego, spent many hours at the Museum of Photographic Arts bookstore in Balboa Park, and regularly snuck into film classes. I fell in love with photography while studying in Florence, Italy, in my second year of college and have been pretty much self-taught since then by looking at paintings in museums and watching great 'Henri Cartier-Bresson, Brassaï, Helen Levitt, Bill Owens, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Hunter S Thompson.'High point: 'As a Pollyanna optimist, I have to believe my high point has yet to happen – but having Edward Snowden share an image I created with The Yes Men stands out.'Low point: 'To survive as an artist you have to accept a barrage of rejection and move on.'Top tip: 'Chuck Close noted that photography is one of the easiest art forms to learn but the hardest to find your voice. I recommend learning as much craft as you can, but at some point you have to look deep inside yourself to carve your path.' Michael Rababy will be signing copies of Casinoland – Tired of Winning on 11 July at Arles photography festival
New York Post
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Post
Reno 411! A summer guide to the Biggest Little City in America
If everything you know about the Biggest Little City (pop: 275K) you learned from a certain 'Cops' parody on Comedy Central, here's a crash course on doing the college town right, post-ski rat season. Triple play 8 Enjoy nights at the round table. Reno-Tahoe Beautifully backdropped by the High Eastern Sierra foothills, Reno's the Row is hardly of the 'skid' variety. It's a troika of massive, hustling-n-bustling fancyish hotel-casinos perfect for us all-poker, no-powder types. Advertisement The Eldorado, the Silver Legacy and Circus Circus span six blocks wholly owned by Caesars Entertainment, Inc. (what Eldorado Resorts rebranded itself as after acquiring old Caesars and all its properties). Each has its own unique charms: Eldorado skews more upscale and sophisticated, Circus Circus has a giant arcade for kids. 8 Pick a hotel-casino, any hotel-casino, along Reno's Row including Eldorado, Circus Circus and Silver Legacy. — they're all corded umbilically attached via skyway. Insight Studio But we ended up at the dining- and night life-focused, 1,720-roomed Silver Legacy, home to a mood-lit Ramsay's Kitchen (warning vegans: best to avoid his delicious, had-parents take on 'lollipops') and the always queued- and gussied-up Aura Ultra Lounge. Advertisement Dromophobic? Not a problem. Enter any one of the three and you can easily visit the other two without ever stepping foot outside via the Row's skyways. Bonus: While the overly smokey, stale-smelling floors of the dizzying beep-booping, ding-a-linging casinos of yore could make non-gamers feel a certain kind of way, these days, the old rolled cigarette smog factor has been considerably reduced thanks to vape converts. Much obliged! Fin city 8 Jaws was a mere guppy compared to the draconic ichthyosaur. Chris Bunting Two hundred and fifty million years ago, Reno's scariest creature wasn't that angsty, 127-foot-tall clown named Topsy struggling to hold up the Circus Circus sign. It was the bowling lane-length prehistoric dino dolphin, er, sea reptile, called the ichthyosaur. Fitting, since back then, what is now the desertic Silver State was completely underwater (some yearn for those days over the summer). Advertisement Reno's groovy Nevada Art Museum has devoted 9,000 square feet — its entire third floor — to these lovingly nicknamed 'sea dragons' in an exhibit running through mid-January of next year called Deep Time. It features the world's largest collection of ichthyosaur fossils including a 33-foot Triassic Period skeleton of one, the most complete in the world, along with a life-size, e-wall-simulated sea dragon to swim-walk with, no trunks needed. 8 The museum turned bone-aquarium is as funky on the outside as it is within. Courtesy of the Nevada Museum of Art. 8 See the world as an Ichthy did in the trippiest of ways (use a safe word). Courtesy of the Nevada Museum of Art. Advertisement Kiddos will especially love (and maybe try to outdo — sorry, parents) the exhibit's room filled entirely with a massive collection of dinosaur toys; another room (possibly for less-sober grown-ups) lets you see the world, as an ichthy would see it, 'underwater.' GA is $15. The mural of the story 8 Reno is mad about murals; you're hard-pressed to find a naked wall throughout town. Handout Game respects game, and nowhere else is that better on display than in Reno's unusually cordial street art scene. Get used to the name Erik Burke, or rather his initials E.B., as you'll be seeing a lot of it on Pineapple Pedicab's art tours of downtown where the world-renowned and Reno-born E.B. has painted giant murals on the sides of several multi-storied buildings, including one of his wife (awww) and also signs them with his age at their time of completion. Best part: Local graffiti taggers respectfully leave them be and (mostly) undefiled, according to my no-fear pedaler guide Taz. You'll also come across other artists' trippy works like a flying bus formerly driven IRL, cut in half then glued back together on a rising stand, plus other sculptures and installations lucky enough to have been spared dismantling after a gig at nearby Burning Man such as the Space Whale (a 40-foot, stained-glass mommy cetacean and her calf). The hour-long tour of Reno's other nickname they hope to one day make stick — Art Town — is $55 per person, with each pedicab sitting up to three. Vroom with a view Advertisement 8 Gear heads will explode inside the wondrous National Automobile Museum. Universal Images Group via Getty Images Listen here, buddy, drop the spray paint and back away from the electric cars — these are non-Elon creations you've stumbled across at Reno's National Automobile Museum. In fact, the very first cars ever marketed were all electric, preceding gas-powered ones by years and years. You'll learn this and mucho mas at the multi-zoned (classic, race cars, celebrity mobiles, etc.) NAM, just a five-minute walk from the Row. Its exhibits come in large part thanks to the late William Fisk Harrah. There was only one thing the late hotel-casino magnate loved more than gamblizing the state, and that was cars (he owned 1,400 of them). He had an army of scouts scour the country for unique and classic ones, some literally uncovered beneath tarps and stashed away in barns in the middle of nowhere. 8 The cars are up for 'adoption' if you have the scratch. warasit – Advertisement Once Harrah kicked the can in 1978, his massive collection changed hands (mostly into those of then-hospitality giant Holiday Inn) but after public demand, private sales, auctions and the like, many found their way to this place, opened in 1989, now home to some 240-plus rare and restored vehicles from the late 19th century up until today. Ford Model T? Check. Elvis's Caddy Eldorado Coupe? Yep. That vehicular Frankenstein Jay Leno stitched together from two wrecks that's half-Jeep, half-Ferrari dubbed the Jerrari? Heck yes. And do you like the cut of that Doc Brown-worthy DeLorean's jib over yonder? 'Adopt' it, or any of the other cars on display (meaning, donate money to help keep it in tip-top condition and land your name on a plaque right next to it). Just no actual fiddling around with said foster. Tix are $15 for adults, $10 for kids.
Eater
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Eater
A Winding, Mountainous, Historic Road Trip From Reno to Lake Tahoe
There's a reason Reno, Nevada, one of the original American boomtowns, has so many businesses with the word 'silver' in their name. The history of Nevada aligns closely with the discovery of the Comstock Lode, an enormous silver ore deposit in Virginia City, near present-day Reno. (Nevada's nickname is also the 'Silver State.') Fortunes rise and fall, of course, and Reno has cycled through different eras of changing fortunes in its 150-plus-year history. Today, Reno is usually overlooked as a destination in favor of its younger, flashier downstate cousin, Las Vegas. But is that justified? Maybe not, as Eater's Matthew Kang and I discovered during an action-packed 36 hours this spring. We set out to create a quick, fun road trip to better understand the area between Reno and Lake Tahoe, which straddles the California-Nevada border, with a bunch of stops in between. We discovered breathtaking mountain views, a non-stop bacchanal of worthy food stops, and fun, old-timey bars and saloons that nod to the heyday of the area's silver rush in the second half of the 19th century. A late-night arrival into the 'Biggest Little City in the World' led us to scour the town for a nighttime bite. (We did wonder: If Reno is the biggest little city, what's the smallest big city? Philly? San Francisco?) We found a respectable stack of golden pancakes and warm service at the Gold 'N Silver Inn diner before heading to Virginia Street, a walkable stretch south of Reno's downtown with funky college town shops like the Melting Pot. 'Do you serve slices?' I asked the woman behind the counter at Pizzava. 'I've got eight slices all together,' she replied, implying they only come whole. Fair enough. Their 'Backyard' pizza was a better version of a Domino's deluxe pie and served as an ideal midnight snack. After checking out the spacious outdoor patio at Z Bar across the street (and after someone asked Kang from a moving car if he was the photographer behind Reno After Dark), we settled into a comfortable room downtown at Caesars Entertainment's $90-a-night Silver Legacy. (There's that word again.) The following morning, we explored the casino as well as two others that are attached to create a kind of blocks-long super resort: Eldorado and Circus Circus. Don't miss the centerpiece of Silver Legacy — a shockingly large silver mining rig fitted with lots of kaleidoscopic lights, towering over the gaming area. Circus Circus, for what it's worth, appears much nicer than the worn-down Vegas property and, with its carnival-like games and ample space to run around, looks like it'd be a pretty fun place to take the kids. Before we left the complex, Kang played a hand of baccarat, bet on banker, and won. Who said gambling doesn't pay? In the face of unspeakably beautiful spring weather, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the snow on the Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance, we set out from Reno. But not before making a couple of quick stops: Star Village Coffee, a Native American-owned coffee shop, is an excellent choice for caffeinated beverages. I had a seasonal maize latte, slightly sweet with earthy undertones, as well as a tahini rose chocolate chip cookie. The Artists Co-op Gallery down the street is worth stopping in for a nice selection of work by local artists. When we went, one of the resident artists told us, unprompted, that all-you-can-eat sushi was quite literally invented in Reno. Maybe it's something in the water, but there have been several recent stories about AYCE sushi and its popularity in Reno. Whether the city is the actual origin or its locals have simply embraced it more strongly than in other places, there's no denying that Reno has an enduring love affair with sushi. (We'll have to partake next time.) The name 'Coney Island' may have distinctly East Coast connotations, but in Sparks, Nevada, the town adjacent to Reno, it's the name of a clubby-feeling bar with some killer lunch specials. Coney Island Bar, in a building that's stood since the Great Depression, is something between a sports bar and an Elks Lodge outpost. They've got a rotating set of homespun lunch specials like spaghetti and a hot sweet ham sandwich. The roast beef sandwich, eaten on pillowy white bread swiped with tonsil-searing horseradish sauce, is outstanding, as is the roast turkey sandwich. Our next stop was none other than the Nevada state capital, Carson City, just a stone's throw away from Reno, a little over a half-hour's drive if driving directly. However, we took a scenic detour through the Virginia Highlands and up Geiger Grade Road — not named, as you might think, after Hans Geiger, he of the radioactivity counter. Rather, it's named after Davison Geiger, who paid for the road. It's a fun, serpentine drive that our rented Buick SUV could barely handle, but it paid off with some spectacular views of the Truckee Meadows valley. That road takes you to Virginia City, which was the center of Nevada's silver mining explosion in 1859. It also happens to be where a young man named Samuel Clemens wrote for the local newspaper under the name Mark Twain. More than 150 years later, Virginia City is a kitschy 'Wild West' tourist town with old Victorian buildings, souvenir shops, and dusty saloons with names like 'Bucket of Blood' to peek into. It's certainly worth a stop if you're in the area, if only to see how the places have evolved for the modern era — old card tables, some of which are still on display, have been replaced by the relentless buzz of new slot machines. Foodwise, a box of kimchi fried rice at Lost Seoul Saloon, almost certainly the only Korean restaurant in Virginia City, proved to be great value. Bright orange and festooned with chopped scallions, it was a tangy and filling snack that satisfied during this quick stop. Saloons and a general Wild West motif are popular in this part of the country, and the theme continues as you move into the capital, a short drive down from the hills of Virginia City. Bank Saloon, just across the street from Nevada's various legislative buildings in Carson City, supposedly dates back to 1899. Today, it certainly doesn't look over 100 years old, as, in recent years, it's had a reinvigorating makeover and serves bespoke cocktails while hosting events like a weekly 'Puppy Hour,' where patrons are invited to bring in their dogs. The drinks are solid, and it's worth a look, if only for the befuddlingly large amount of Bob Ross paraphernalia decorating the inside. When in an unfamiliar place, your best move come mealtime is often to check out a local grocery store. And so we headed toward Hacienda Market and Grill, a Mexican grocery northeast of the Capitol building that also has prepared foods. After sampling the shop's carnitas taco (and the diverse salsa selection), we headed south out of town to nearby Genoa, Nevada, and its venerable Genoa Bar, which advertises itself as Nevada's oldest bar — a very distinct possibility as it opened in 1853, many years before Nevada's statehood. The clientele at Genoa during our visit was a healthy mix of out-of-state travelers and local bikers, which fits in with the timeless Old West feel of the town. One spicy bloody mary and another winding, scenic drive later, we had reached Lake Tahoe. Technically, we had arrived in the prosaically named Stateline, which lies, well, on the Nevada side of the state line shared with California. Harveys Lake Tahoe, another Caesars property that will soon be rebranded as Caesars Republic, was where we checked into our spacious rooms (about $100 a night including resort fee, plus an inexpensive upgrade). The view from my room, a craggy, snow-capped mountain tableau, was stunning, nearly making up for the fact that the lobby was a full-on construction zone. After checking in and resting, it was time to treat ourselves a bit. Kang and I had been eating good but frankly inexpensive meals over the last 18 hours. Dinner at the gorgeous Edgewood Tahoe resort was the antidote. Entering the building itself is an experience, with floor-to-ceiling windows treating visitors to views of pine trees soaring over the glimmering lake, all set beneath a dramatic mountain backdrop. Fat curry-and-lime mussels and spice-rubbed lamb chops taste better when taking in a sunset over the Sierras as you eat them. If I'm picking nits, a seafood tagliatelle had slightly undercooked pasta, but the overall quality of the seafood picked up the slack. Diners looking for a good value seafood experience on a slightly lower budget should check out Kalani's, on the California side of the state line. A Chilean sea bass with ponzu butter sauce is a good bet, as are the sushi rolls. Why not take the long way back to Reno? The next morning, with cool air in our lungs and after numerous gulps of the refreshing mountain tap water, we left the south side of Lake Tahoe. Why not take the long way back to Reno? Cliches come to mind when driving on a clear day along the lake — 'breathtaking' is one of them — but they really tell the truth. Maybe it's just culture shock coming from the often hazy urbanity of Los Angeles, but, occasionally, your organs forget what clean air feels like. Arriving at the northeast side of the lake in Incline Village (a place that, along with Stateline, really could use a renaming), we hit the Tunnel Creek Cafe, a quaint little counter-service restaurant with a pleasant outdoor dining area. While chatting with the friendly staff, we learned a fun fact: The restaurant is near the entrance of what used to be Ponderosa Ranch, a theme park based on the television Western Bonanza , which you're almost certainly too young to remember but was one of the most successful and longest-running television shows of all time. Bonanza starred Lorne Greene and Michael Landon, among others, and took place on a fictional ranch close to Virginia City, which we had just visited. A theme park was created based on the show, which ran from 1959 to 1973. Some episodes were even shot inside the park; eventually, the park closed in 2004. While at Tunnel Creek Cafe, you would be wise to sample their Swedish oatmeal pancakes. Now, what makes them exactly Swedish is unclear to me, as Swedish pancakes are typically paper-thin and quite eggy, adorned with powdered sugar and lingonberry jam. These were not that — but they were excellent. They resembled a normal hotcake in size and shape, but were impossibly airy with a wonderful nutty flavor. Full to the brim from the last couple of days of eating, we felt ready to head back to Reno to catch our flight home. After a quick stop at the beach near the northernmost point of the lake to take in yet another Ansel Adams-esque vista, we embarked on one final winding drive through the mountains, past ski slopes that still held onto a surprising amount of powder. Before heading to the Reno airport, with just enough time for a final meal, we stopped at Casale's Halfway Club, a classic red-sauce joint on East Fourth Street that says it's Reno's oldest restaurant. And while that's a tough claim to fact check, the restaurant's small-town charm and food quality are not in question. It's a cozy space, every cranny of the room filled with photos, tchotchkes, and writing on the walls and ceilings, like at the old Gino's East in Chicago, a fixture of my adolescence. The house-made ravioli are a good choice, as is the lasagna, which takes a while to come to the table but is ultimately worth the wait. Emerging with a golden brown, leopard-spotted crust, it's everything I want in a lasagna: piping hot, saucy, and blanketed with borderline too much cheese. And at just $24 for a lasagna and a small order of ravioli, this was a lunch bargain that seems difficult to beat. Just as suddenly as it began, our trip had ended, and it was time to hop our quick flight back home. We were possibly dazed — food comatose, certainly — after a whirlwind trip, but had new insights on a part of Nevada neither of us had really known deeply before. Between the good food and drink, historical significance, and natural beauty, we agreed on one thing: There was still plenty of silver in those hills, and we'd be back soon to explore again. Sign up for our newsletter.
