The walkthrough

When you think about it.... a walkthrough is your chance to examine in person all the reasons you should consider or reconsider before making that particular real estate purchase. I remember there being additional inspectors from the bank that day in late November of 1996 , also both realtors and the members of the Clark Land Investment (the sellers) ; yes, our property was actually called Clark Cottages before we purchased it. I also remember that day that I was 40 minutes late to the walkthrough that had taken weeks to arrange as all tenants were required to be present ; their homes open for inspection. I was late that day, coming from another house that I loved .... The Jungle Palace... home of my employers Siegfried and Roy.... and so the exploration of our maybe future new home was already underway when I finally arrived .

The cottages were no Jungle Palace , they reeked of neglect planted there before freeways or the even the Las Vegas strip . These cottages were built in 1929 ; a significant year in the building of a brand new city . The first talking picture, phone service in Las Vegas had just started, and radios were finally in every home. Las Vegas even had an airport with regular mail service . It was the year that the Hoover Dam was begining construction ; and so was this infant city determined to find her place. That walkthrough day however was just another fall day ... and the property I would come to know so well was on that day ... a new acquaintance.

First dates, major life events begin by opening a door and stepping through.. i remember my foot stepping onto that soil for the first time... even then i had the feeling there's no going back... we were doing this. I needed to see Will (Billie) my brother, that person you know so well that with just one look tells you a resounding YES or NO.

There were doors open all over the property... doors of all sorts... i dont think any door to any cottage looked the same. One door looked original and so i ventured inward there... new smells, of soap, old smells of dust, and an acummulation of family memories everywhere. Be careful not to be too judgemental of anyone living small until you have walked a mile in their shoes or in my case now 28 years... there were sounds coming from every room, yes rooms... with people in each one... chatting, smiling. Old was the lasting impression and the color on every wall known only as age. Still no sign of my brother and then ahh there you are....YES or NO ???

As our faces met in the chatter and kaos of the moment we made our way to what would end up being my house... this door, my door forward was a hollow core door that had been reinforced with a well aged piece of basement den panneling. There were many locks and knobs, some abandoned and finally the true giveaway; a padlock hasp to let everyone know that this is not a functioning house. Will in his Will way pushed the door inward as if a blizzard of snow had blocked us from entering but there was just enough space to squeak in and there it was another wall of not snow but things.... a sculpture made one thing at a time until it filled the space sloping up in front of us like a hill and thus had formed its own texture.... the smell of many years, of dust, of disapointment, and no real indication of where we were in what we thought would be a house. But the fuse was lit.... whatever these two brothers thought apart of this new place .... all it took was some heavally painted trim around the front living room window for me to yell out " whatever we need to do to get this... we have to do it... "

As we crawled through close to the ceiling on our 30 something bellies through doorways, the sculpture we were crawling over moaning and sighing from it's unexpected guests. There was a kind of auditory tour from all of us of where we probably werein this house . Stopping briefly in the kitchen to notice some curled vinyl paper with roosters waving hello and a push button range from the early 60's chocking under the weight of 100 or so very thick phone books.... (actual books wth everyone's phone numbers & addresses was actually a thing....) on top of the books was a rock maple breakfast table and chairs.... they probably saved us all from going up in flames as we had to crawl around the table and the books and that push button range and not over it. Eventually we made our way around and i figured out that layout of this new world was something like a square donut. Climbing down into the bathroom... this seemed to be the room most presentday in use. Many black plastic bags hanging over what once was tiled and a scary toilet that could swallow up a small piece of furniture... or a set of dishes... and then thousands of disposable razors. There was more contact paper sporting dutch windmills but it/they had seen better times.

Once back into the main courtyard i was introduced to Mrs Clark. Granny from the sylvester and tweety cartoons was who we were introduced to. Mrs.Clark was a tiny woman wearing a tartan bere and sweater vest and carrying a rubarb pie which she had baked for the ocassion. As the clock was ticking to make it to the Mirage on time for work the exchange was brief. she was very powdery and i remember she had little powdery rosy cheeks. We shook hands and i asked her which house had the basement... she confessed that she couldnt remeber but that in the 1970's she had hired a woman to go down into it and clean it up and several hours later would find the woman thouroughly intoxicated.... i can remember thinking how could you not remember something about something you owned... like which house has a basement... but i would understand how that became possible as this story continues.

Our beloved realitor was a bonafied Las Vegas debutaunte quaft and lovely ... a dancer in the Siegfried and Roy show where we all worked (Steve Wynns fabulous Mirage) ... Toni during a show told me about the cottage property and that i probably wouldnt love the location as it was downtown but they were 5 little cottages built in the 20's and the asking price was 120k... come find me later she said as she disapeared into the blackness of backstage. Months later this lovely soft spoken graceful and polite real estate agent would have to review our contract and present an offer to the sellers agent... in his vintage stationwagon which was not only was his transportation but also his office and his house.