Desert Storm (Published Feb 20, 2022)

  It’s the Summer of 1965, I’m fifteen, and we’re going on a summer vacation to the National Parks.  Our supercharged Oldsmobile Super 88, almost the size of a tank, is towing our Kenskill Travel Trailer.  With the size of that Oldsmobile Super 88 engine, there is no issue with this car's ability to pull the trailer.  As I recall it took Super Gasoline with an Octane of about 97.  They don’t make it that high anymore except for rocket fuel.

Our first stop in Zion National Park, some eight hours drive through the Mojave Desert.  We leave early in the day to avoid the heat.  Sometime in the afternoon, we drive past Las Vegas.  At the time Interstate 15 was not completed through all of Las Vegas so you were directed onto the Las Vegas strip.  Perhaps that was intentional.  My mom had fallen asleep sometime before Las Vegas and my dad glided through town with making a peep.  You see, my mom loved to gamble and loved Las Vegas.  We went often.  In fact, I learned to swim at a motel on the Las Vegas Strip.  But this was a vacation to the National Parks and no Las Vegas so my dad was obviously pleased that we could slide in and out of town without any notice from my mom. 

About an hour north of Las Vegas with startling suddenness, a flash flood like no other rain that I’ve seen before or since occurred.  Lightning bolts, black clouds, and within what seemed like less than a minute, rain.  Within no time, rivers were flowing where only desert sands were seen minutes before.  Cars disappeared in front of us, or so it seemed.   The rain was so strong you could not see over a few feet in front of you.  We pulled to the side of the highway, the car and trailer swaying in the wind and rain. 

At the first burst of lightning and thunder, my mom sprung from her sleep.  She screamed with fear seeing rushing water crossing the roadway in front, next to, and behind the car.   Lightning bolts appeared to be attacking the car.   “How far are we from Las Vegas and safety? She yelled.  “Dear, we passed Las Vegas some time ago,’ “said dad.   Let me just say that the conversation went downhill from there.  So, we’re caught in a catastrophic and what appears life-threatening situation and one that would not be in, if we had made that stop in Las Vegas.   

Wait, thru all that deluge, and in the light of the thunderbolt, a motel is seen to our left, almost like an Oasis.  Quickly, the car lunges forward, sort of a last dash attempt at survival to that motel.  They have a room.  We make a run to safety.  Now, in less time, than you can count to one hundred, the rain ends, and the sun appears again. 

The motel is attached to a gas station and restaurant.  Seems to be the only place around; that is unless you want to drive an hour back to Las Vegas.  The restaurant is closed, only the bar is open.  That’s no problem, we do have our Kenskill Travel Trailer and it is stocked with food.  In we go for soup and sandwiches.  Dinner ends.  Time for bed.  My dad will sleep in the trailer to make sure no one breaks in, and because there’s only one bed in the motel room and the three of us can’t all fit into the one bed.  Mom and I will sleep in the motel room. 

I wake up sometime later.  I notice that mom is not in the room.  Perhaps she went to the trailer?  Being a teenage boy, I fall back to sleep not giving it another thought.   The next morning, I awake to the noise of highway trucks.  Only then do I notice the glass is broken out of this motel window and how seedy a place it is.  My mom is up and in the bathroom.    She must have slipped back as the trailer has a small sink for makeup and tooth brushing.  I get up, dress, and we head out to the trailer.  Only then do I find out where my mom had been much of the night.  Every place in Nevada has slots.  And those in Glendale, Nevada do not pay well.  Thus, started the second day of our National Park vacation.  Only a month to go. 

Found this cute little article about Glendale, Nevada to go this the story

HITTING THE ROAD: Goodbye, Glendale

December 4, 2001 | Las Vegas Review-Journal (NV)

Author/Byline: Frank Geary

By FRANK GEARY

REVIEW-JOURNAL

He has had his fill of corrupt, drunk and just plain lazy employees, so the founding father of Clark County's smallest town is calling it quits.

Charlie Hester, owner of the four homes, four businesses and 270 acres that comprise the isolated community of Glendale, said Monday it's time to disband the town because there aren't enough residents to serve on its five-member town board.

The town's governing board members have been dish washers, bartenders, waitresses and service station attendants that have drifted in and out of the tiny town nestled next to Interstate 15 and the Muddy River, between Las Vegas and Mesquite.

They all worked for Hester, and many were bounced from political office, lost their jobs and left town after he caught them stealing, drinking or simply not pulling their weight.

One of his longtime employees once embezzled $ 11,000, and Hester had to close his towing service when his two drivers couldn't understand that drinking on the job was prohibited, he said.

'It used to be that, if you hired somebody, you had to give them a place to stay and something to eat, because when they showed up here they were busted,' Hester, 76, said. 'I fired some of them for being too lazy, and I fired others for drinking on the job.

'We didn't have enough people to rotate in on the board, and so my wife was on there and my son was on there, too, for a while,' Hester said.

With most of his current employees living in neighboring Moapa, and Glendale's population so small it couldn't field a basketball team, Hester and Clark County officials have agreed to take the unusual step today of dissolving the 22-year-old community.

As a result, the town board will be disbanded, and the $ 17,768 the town has collected in property taxes from Hester since 1979 will be returned to him and his wife Vera, said Don Burnette, director of the county's Administrative Services Department.

The recent census reported Glendale's population was half of its one-time peak of 36 residents. But, according to those who live there, the community's population has since dwindled to only four.

'Over the years, with no growth and now four people living there, it didn't make sense to continue with the town structure,' Burnette said. 'These things happen. One family moves out and you lose half your town. You would probably find more people living in a ghost town.'

It will be the first time the County Commission has dissolved an unincorporated town -- such as Paradise, Enterprise, Spring Valley and Red Rock -- and the move comes at a time when growth in other parts of the county is outpacing the nation.

Unlike rapidly growing communities to the north and south, Glendale doesn't have a shopping mall or a casino. For that matter, it doesn't have a school, a church, a park, a police or fire station, a traffic light or a single child. Not even a dog to sleep by the side of the road.

In the center of town Monday afternoon, a hitchhiker stood alone, hoping to catch a ride as the sun set on the restaurant and bar, the service station and the 16-room motel that comprise Hester's empire.

As has been the case for most of the past decade, Hester is trying to sell the entire community so he can retire to his home near Pioche. Glendale's zoning and freeway access make it ideal for a resort and golf course, he said.

A resort developer from Texas agreed to buy Hester's land several years ago, but the sale fell through within a week of sealing the deal, Hester said.

After living there for 10 years, Hester led the effort to form the town, its town board and its own tax system in 1979.

Hester and his employees were worried at that time that Moapa or Overton-Logandale would swallow up Glendale,  and that they would have to pay taxes for public services miles away.

Burnette and Hester said it's unlikely that either neighboring town will take over Glendale now because it's an established community and a recognized stop for motorists.

When asked what he will miss most about his little town, Hester, a former Las Vegas police officer, said, 'Being boss.'