In the ever-transforming spectacle of Las Vegas, structures rise and fall like the ebbs and flows of the desert sands. Yet despite the pageantry of new developments, the soul of old Vegas persists, hidden in corners, camouflaged within the new, thriving in the memories of what once was. For the curious, the enduring essence of the city’s past waits, tucked away among the neon and nostalgia.
Take, for instance, a fragment of history still docked at the Westgate. Here, the remains of “Star Trek: The Experience” lie dormant, echoes of interstellar travels and Klingon encounters lurking around what is now the domain of timeshare tacticians. Once a place where the bridge of the Enterprise welcomed awestruck visitors, now it’s a monotonous office space, albeit with an otherworldly backdrop.
Whispers of Vegas’s storied past resonate in other, less likely venues. Venture inside Harrah’s, and like a phantom ship rising from the deep, a portion of the Holiday Casino’s old riverboat facade reveals itself. A relic hidden in plain sight, it stands as a testament to the city’s love affair with the grand and the theatrical. But to catch a glimpse of this specter, you must be both intrepid and privileged, afforded a view known only to those who walk the hidden corridors backstage.
Downtown, the Mint—immortalized by Hunter S. Thompson’s fevered prose—has been assimilated into Binion’s Gambling Hall. Its classic neon glow and timber walls linger by the gateway to Whiskey Licker Up Saloon. The boldly adventurous (or those undeterred by potential trespass) might discover remnants of its former glory.
Elsewhere, the MGM Grand holds in its grasp the legacy of the Marina Hotel. Cleverly disguised by a modern green shell, this once standalone building inaugurated in 1975 now serves as the more modest and affordable west wing of the MGM colossus.
The very veins that fed Vegas’s growth remain as the iron tracks that run parallel to Interstate 15. The railroad that once ferried dreamers and gold seekers functions still, undergirding the flow of commerce and whispering the answer to why this oasis of excitement ever emerged from the desert at all.
Remnants of the San Pedro, Los Angeles, & Salt Lake Railroad’s initiative dot the landscape, from the Golden Gate—the city’s first hotel with the first phone (number “1”)—to the repurposed Amtrak station nestled in the Plaza Hotel, once a bustling gateway and now an unassuming break room clad with the ghostly murals of its former life.
In the alchemy of sin city, where the new perennially supplants the old, the spirits of yesteryears linger on, secretive, silent, scattered like hidden treasures across the neon.etractable landscape, lies an unspoken invitation to uncover the mysteries and memories entwined within the heart of Las Vegas.
