Las Vegas is the Future of America
Searching for Moderate Republicans, finding an Immigrant Middle Class built on America's Self-Numbing
I first went to Las Vegas in November 2022, my first plane trip after two and a half years of pandemic immobility. The goal was to get back into research-mode, and Vegas draws a diverse, cross-section of Americans. I could catch the pulse of the country in one fell swoop.
Sure enough, within an hour of touching down, I was talking to David, a middle-aged dermatologist from Youngstown, Ohio, a Republican, and a backgammon fanatic. He was competing in the national backgammon tournament, though he confessed he likes reading about backgammon more than playing. I asked him about the future of the country. “I think there’s gonna be another civil war,” he said flatly, as we scarfed Thai food next to each other. “Over guns. Cause after January 6th, next time they’re going in armed, and then they’re gonna try to confiscate our guns. There’s 400 million guns in this country, it could get bloody.” He signed his bill and wiped the corners of his mouth with his paper napkin. “Nice talking to you. I gotta get back to the backgammon tournament—stay armed!”
I began this project intending to make a piece about reconciliation, but as I’ve travelled the country, it’s clear Americans are not in the mood for that. What I’ve found instead is people are angry and anxious, lonely and struggling to find community and catharsis. And rage is all the rage.
On a return trip to Vegas two weeks ago, I began the evening looking to meet some moderate Republicans, so I went to a Log Cabin Republicans happy hour listed online. Only two guys had showed up. They were kind and friendly, and insisted on paying for my beer, even though it was clear I was neither gay nor Republican. But within three minutes they were sounding off on the obviousness of the 2020 election being stolen. “I mean as soon as they said, oh there’s more votes coming in, I knew it was over,” said a barrel-chested man who said he volunteered for the 2008 Obama campaign. The other, an ex-Mormom in his ‘60s, bemoaned the focus on inclusivity at his job as a flight attendant. “Being gay in Salt Lake City in the ‘80s was so much fun,” he said, “It was underground, it was cool, and it was exclusive. I miss that.”
I went from there to eating fried fish at West Side Oasis in Vegas’ historically Black West Side neighborhood. Ralph, a union carpenter and his wife Carol, a retired Chicago police officer from South Side Chicago, were thinking of moving out to Vegas, as were so many people I met. “Move out here, start my dog grooming business, and enjoy the sun,” said Ralph, with a big smile.
As I repaired to my hotel, I met Bob and Debbie, two elderly folks from “the mountains outside Tehachapi,” wheeling in a rack of colorful Western wear shirts and dresses. “Are you here for the conference too?” asked Debbie, eyes wide amid a tumble of silver hair. I had no idea about the conference, but they had the guiless warmth of true believers. “No, who’s preaching? I asked.” “Rodney Howard Browne,” said Debbie, beaming. Bob, hunched behind a mustache and trucker hat said, “Oh he’s more than a preacher, he’s an evangelist.” Turns out he’s a whole lot more than that—his specialty is “holy laughter.”
Vegas is an alluring populist paradise. I don’t gamble, but walking into the sports lounge at Circa Casino, one can’t help but chuckle. They’ve created a fairytale sports den, an intimate theater with reclining chairs that serves up a mountain of screens showing games. Pop music plays everywhere in Vegas, and people are losing money all day, and quite joyfully. Everything is tailored to dilate pupils and quicken the pulse: shiny lights, long, pastel-colored cocktails, slot machines in every bar and gas station convenience store.
Peel back that first layer, and it is also in multiple ways the future of the country. Las Vegas is the third fastest growing city in the country. Americans continue to spend more and more money on gambling, a record 60 billion in 2023. And Vegas tourism is almost back to pre-pandemic levels. The pandemic cracked us all a little, and most of us are still healing. Vegas apparently is the perfect panacea—be warm, indulge, and check out.
But tucked inside the great check-out is a kernel of inspiration: On the back of this need to numb ourselves, Vegas has built one of the most impactful and successful labor unions in America, the Culinary Workers Union. The guest room attendants, porters, bartenders, and dishwashers who power Vegas earn much more than in any other place in the country, and get top-notch health care and pension benefits. It’s often said that the Culinary Union in Vegas has provided white collar wages for blue collar jobs.
Everywhere you go you meet union members. Luis, a young bartender, was practicing his cup juggling skills behind the outdoor bar at the Plaza Hotel on a bright morning. “Vegas is a lotta this,” he said, twirling the drinkshaker and glass “and then this,” he paused and flashed a big smile. His parents were political refugees from Nicaragua, and he grew up skateboarding on The Strip. His Mom has been working as a guest room attendant since they came to Vegas, and she has worked her way up to steward. Luis, like a couple of the younger union members I talked to, begrudged the unions dues and didn’t always feel adequately supported. But Luis bought a house for $135,000 in 2012 off his wages as a barback at the time.
The older generation knows how much a step up it is for them. Karina, a guest room attendant, grew up in Fresno, one of five kids for her single-parent mother, an undocumented immigrant from Mexico who picked fruits and vegetables in the Central Valley. “We had to move from house to house all the time, always renting, lots of bad places,” said Karina. She came to Vegas in her early twenties, started working as a guest room attendant, and bought a house a few years later.
While union membership rates declined dramatically in America since the 1980s, Culinary Union membership has tripled in that same time. With over 60,000 members in Nevada, the Culinary Union provides health care for 145,000 workers and their dependent family members. Forty-five percent of members are immigrants, it is majority female, and represents people from over 178 countries who speak 40 different languages.
And it is a political behemoth, knocking on a million doors in 2020 and activating Democratic voters in every election cycle. It has helped drive Democratic turnout in several recent elections, pushing a purple (some would say right-leaning) state to elect two Democratic Senators: Catherine Cortez Masto, the first Latina in the Senate, and Jacky Rosen, a one-time Ceasar’s Palace waitress and union member. It also secured a crucial Nevada win for Biden in 2020, and then sent workers to Georgia’s special election to help swing a win for Senator Raphael Warnock.
The Culinary union reaches into people’s lives more intimately than most unions. It offers opportunities to engage politically through their Leave of Absence program. Members can request a leave of absence for several months from their jobs at hotels and casinos and get paid to do outreach and education to other members. They can also move up the pay scale by taking free classes at the Culinary Academy, learning new skills like bartending and wine knowledge. They also have a citizenship program which has helped over 18,000 immigrants transition from Permanent Residents to full citizens. The Culinary Union just completed negotiations, after a strike at several casinos, that will give them a new 5 year contract with 30% raises.
The effects of having a politically organized working class has rippled out around town. At Eastside Cutters, a barbershop in Vegas’ largely Latino East Side, Paul, one of the head barbers, said his experiences working on the strip, and being in a union for seven years, influenced his political beliefs. His Mom was a “21 dealer” on the strip, and he saw how her paycheck and health benefits helped build a foundation for their family. The power of solidarity stayed with him. When political debates sometimes flare up in the barbershop, and lately skew Trumpy, Paul is one of the few progressive-leaning voices.
Vegas is also the future home for the Oakland A’s. Visiting the Tropicana hotel, where their new ballpark is scheduled to open in 2028, it’s hard not to wince at the difference between the Oakland Coliseum’s affordable, no-frills experience, and the glitz and glam that will surely be Major League Baseball on the Vegas Strip. While Vegas booms, and helps provide financial security to thousands of workers, it’s ironic that the boom will continue at the expense of Oaklanders and the A’s fan base, what several writers have declared the death of the working-class sports fan. If one pauses to reflect on the plummeting of interest in the humanities, and the drop in attendance of arts events, specifically live theater, the shine of Vegas can fade. Maybe it’s a trade off, and as the bougie pleasures of the 20th century give way to the tik tokafication of everything, at least America’s gluttony supports a generation of new and working-class Americans to achieve their dreams.