Infamous America - Introducing "Spectacle: Las Vegas" from Sony Music Entertainment

Episode Date: February 11, 2022

It’s a city that shouldn’t exist. An oasis in the desert, a mirage — it’s a city of buzzing neon, flowing fountains, and fortunes made and lost. A city of hedonism: concerts, casinos, showgirls, and all-you-can-eat buffets. But how did Vegas become “Sin City”? A place that promotes a fantasy of adult freedoms: a vacation from boundaries, rules, accountability? A place where people from all over the world visit to be their wildest, most uninhibited selves, even if it’s just for just a couple nights? We’re going to tell you the history of that city. From a railroad stop, to the mob, to the luxury resort and casino...this is Spectacle Season 2: The Making of Las Vegas.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey everyone, I've got a podcast recommendation for you, and this one is actually similar to a season I've been planning to do here on Infamous America for a long time. This is the critically acclaimed pop culture podcast spectacle, and in this new story, they're taking a deep dive into the irresistible world of Las Vegas. How did Las Vegas go from a tiny railroad stop in the desert to a haven for mobsters to an adult playground? The host of the season, Brent Holmes, happens to be the son of Las Vegas royalty Clint Holmes. Brent is a journalist and artist who will examine Sin City through the lens of cultural criticism. From mob flicks to shotgun weddings, this season asks the question, what does the story of Las Vegas mean for the past, present, and future of America? Here's a sneak preview of the season premiere.

First thing you might notice when you meet Pendelet is he's tall. six, seven. And he has these tiny round glasses that only accentuate his bigness. And the smile lines on his cheeks reveal a man with a laugh as big as his personality. He's half of the famed magic comedy duo Penn and Teller. But back in the 70s, he was a hippie, a high school dropout from Massachusetts with a fun hobby. But then Penn and his partner, Teller, they made it big in San Francisco and later in New York City. And I was very, very happy in New York. He had a successful Broadway show, a beautiful loft.

And doing Stern, Saturday Live, then let them in at least one of them every week. My next guests have written and starring, currently starring in an off-broadway show here in New York that is getting terrific reviews, but it also seems to defy description. Please welcome Penn and Teller. Nice to have you here, gentlemen. And I mentioned that the show is getting terrific reviews. It's been here in New York. How long? We've been playing about three months now.

Packed houses every night. Yeah, packed houses every night, sure. Being at diners at 3 in the morning with David Bowie telling jokes, you know, going over Lou Reed's house and playing bass. It was in New York life. I mean, it's David Bowie. He's a goddamn sex god. Who hasn't fallen in love with David Bowie?

And like, here he is, hang out with people who pull rabbits out of hats. Magic is awesome. I just didn't know you could hang out with Lou Reed and Letterman and Bowie. If so, I would have started doing magic a long time ago. Anyways, Penn Gillette was living a dream. But then, an opportunity came that would change his life forever. Penn and Teller's show drew the attention of a booker named Joel Fishman.

And Joel called us up and said, at this point, we've done Broadway twice, and said, now it's time to play Vegas. I would be like Vegas? Lou Reed is not going to be at a diner at 3 a.m. in Vegas. I'm sure Penn was like, wait, this is supposed to be a step up from Broadway. During this time, the 80s, if you're like an intellectual postmodern magician hanging out with the coolest people ever, Vegas was very, very uncool. People who didn't smoke cigars, smoke cigars.

People who didn't gamble, gamble. People who didn't see shitty impressionists went to see shitty impressionists. And they went like they were going to a zoo. Not like they were going to a show. Penn told Fishman, in so many words, they were too good for Vegas. He wasn't about to downgrade his career to perform where entertainers go to die. But the money this booker said they could make was good. Stupid good.

He couldn't just say no. So some of my dirtball friends and I with leather jackets, full Ramon's regalia, you know, t-shirts, torn jeans, sneakers, no socks. So we're going to come to Vegas as a goof, perceived Vegas ironically. Penn was going to scope out this grimy desert town. And they were going to do it like Penn thought they were supposed to as a joke. So they went to the celebrity room. Mr. Gene Kelly.

Welcome to the opening night in the celebrity room of the internationally famous MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas. A little side note, Vegas casinos change hands as quickly as they deal their cards. By the time Penn arrives, the MGM Grand was now Bally's Hotel Casino. I remember seeing Bally's as a kid, and it was like, wow, the red-letter boosts, white tablecloths. It felt fancy. The carpet was plush. I remember specifically wanting to take off my shoes. Back then, they wanted you to be so comfortable you didn't want to leave.

And Dean Martin was playing that night, famous for her performances with Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. They called their crew The Rat Pack. I don't know who to compare them to nowadays, but like imagine if Brad Pitt, Edress Elba, Javier Bardem, and Bradley Cooper were in a click. And they sang to you. I mean, it's weird. Right now, right now I'd like to introduce the greatest band of country. Oh, how I'd like to do that. They're not here tonight, but...

Dean was dressed in a tuxedo and crisp white shirt, his puffy cheeks glistening with a sheen of sweat from the hot whites. He looked out at the crowd through Coke bottle glasses, cigarette in one hand, microphone in the other. Penn and his dirtball friends settled in. And we went to see Dean Martin ironically. Laugh at him, be above him, scoff at him. You know, Dean Martin, he did that song. When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore. Scoff at Dean Martin?

Come on, man. Dean was the soundtrack of the American Dream, a suburban house with a white picket fence, a hot casserole dinner on a weeknight. But that was a long time ago. In the early 90s, he was a bygone star. And this was, you could say, the beginning of a shift for Penn,

as far as how he viewed Dean Martin and Las Vegas in general. And Dean Martin came out and kicked my ass harder artistically than I'd ever had my ass kicked. For Penn, Penn, Dean Martin was amazing, but not in the way you think. It's not like Dean wowed this punk counterculture kid with his deep repertoire of lounge tunes.

No, it was the way that he performed that impressed Penn. Well, he's playing that uncomfortable thing, I don't care. But there's going to be a moment halfway through where he says, now here's a song I care about. No. Dean was making self-deprecating jokes. he was blowing off hecklers at a noisy table. And Dean's attention went there, and they immediately quieted out, to which Dean said,

no, Frank show you've got to be quiet and respectful. You can park cars during my show, right? Dead silence. Penn's big old avant-garde heart was pounding. Dean wasn't just on stage. He owned it. I don't know as I've ever laughed harder. Most people there like the show for the music, I think.

Penn loved it for its oddities. He was amazed at what Dean could get away with. And I came away from there going, okay, well, you can do good stuff in Vegas, too. Who would have thought that? And just like that, Penn was sold on Las Vegas. He and Teller have been performing there for more than 20 years consecutively. For the full episode, search for Spectacle, Las Vegas. Vegas on Apple Podcasts or wherever you're listening now.