|
He writes that these antics were all in the service of his overarching goal: to revitalize downtown, a dilapidated stretch of older casinos a few miles north of the Strip. Goodman is widely acknowledged to have helped bring about the area's hipster renaissance. "Because I was the mob lawyer who was turned mayor, people listened, and the phone, which had not rung, began to ring," he said. Again, it is difficult to square the hard-drinking persona that Goodman presents with what he was able to accomplish. He writes that while in office, everyone knew not to call him after 5 p.m. because he wouldn't remember the conversation. He also says he wrote the memoir in longhand, being "completely computer illiterate." Not everyone was won over by the Goodman charm. When he announced his candidacy, the Las Vegas Review-Journal ran an editorial headlined "Anybody but Oscar." But through it all, the outlandish comments and habits that would have made him unelectable anywhere else only fed his popularity in Vegas. He was easily re-elected twice, and left office in 2011 after term limits prevented him from making another bid. His wife ran and successfully replaced him. In his new role as memoirist, Goodman stays true to the mantra of self-indulgence that made him a perfect mascot for his town. Anyone looking for soul-searching and self-reflection will come away empty handed. "It's a funny thing when you say it out loud, but I always liked myself," Goodman writes. Do readers really need to know a list of his most illustrious classmates at Haverford College in Pennsylvania? His bar exam grade? That he loves his parents very much, and that they helped make him who he is? Goodman knows the haters are out there, and he doesn't seem to care. "I was never in doubt, and I know that bothered some people," he writes. "It's who I am." Goodman continues to draw adoring crowds as the town's official ambassador, and spends enough time at official events to spark rumors of a shadow mayorship. The book, he writes, is an effort to stay relevant. As the clock ticked down toward his five o'clock martini, a collection of Oscar Goodman bobblehead dolls -- one of his trademarks -- nodded from a bookshelf near the big screen television. Photos of Goodman posing with various dignitaries while holding various drinks winked from the tabletops. Goodman said there is one trophy he feels he's still missing: a biopic. But he's confident his memoir will be turned into a film. You don't get to be the happiest mayor in the universe by second-guessing these things.
[Associated
Press;
Copyright 2013 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
News | Sports | Business | Rural Review | Teaching & Learning | Home and Family | Tourism | Obituaries
Community |
Perspectives
|
Law & Courts |
Leisure Time
|
Spiritual Life |
Health & Fitness |
Teen Scene
Calendar
|
Letters to the Editor