Las Vegas, Nevada, is a city -- or rather, an improbable idea -- based on the principle of random motion. From its round-the-clock marriage parlors (which logged some 29,000 five-minute ceremonies last year) to its green-felted gaming tables (over which more than a billion dollars changes hands annually), life in Vegas revolves about the unbiased bearings of chance. The promise of bonne chance and the cool green glow of money are the lures that draw both gamblers and gambolers into the desert toward the verdant oasis of high living and long odds.
"This is an observer's paradise," wrote Playboy's master impressionist LeRoy Neiman after weeks of painting the town in his uniquely bold-sensitive style. Concentrating on the tense table excitement and gaudy gaiety of Las Vegas' famous Strip, Neiman found that "the gourmet cuisine, lavish revues, luxury suites, super service and shimmering swimming pools are all designed to soothe, romance and eventually lead you to the gaming tables -- the reason for it all."
Time, by custom, is a vagrant in Vegas. "There are no clocks visible anywhere," noted Neiman. In the huge, windowless gambling rooms day and night are unknown. Although there may be a brief letup at the tables between 7 a.m. and 10 a.m., as the night crowd fades away for a few hours of sleep, the shows ("the biggest and barest west of Paris") continue on in the Strip's posh clubrooms and oversized lounges 24 hours a day. Here, Neiman artfully records the frenetic moods and the manic manners of the glittering town that chance built.
