Vegas and Tahoe: Nonstop Superesorts

Sprawling across the barren valley from which it sprang, Las Vegas shimmers in the heat, a surreal shrine to the gods of opulence and good fortune who dwell in its Greco-Roman-French-provincial-ponderosa-riverboat-neo-neon palaces, where they exact tribute from the reverent who travel hence on missions of homage and seduction. Condemned by some for its outrageous success of excess, ignored by others who seek their pleasure in smaller measure, Las Vegas is the most persuasive monument ever erected to man's inconsolable yearning for a wild weekend. At the rate of 15,000,000 every year, winners and losers from all over the world flock to the big money machine in the desert, driven by the knowledge of miracles that actually happen and nourished by the faith that one will happen to them. In Vegas, all things are probable

Gaudy, brash, incongruous? It's that and more. Where else do all the restaurants serve breakfast 24 hours a day? Where else would a psychiatrist erect a 30-foot sign outside his office? Where else would a doctor advertise his calling in a newspaper page full of urgent messages from hair weavers, system gamblers, exotic theologians and erotic-underwear merchants? And what other town can boast a Mr. Caesar Augustus in the phone book? In Vegas, ladies of the evening offer customers not only discounts but free home delivery. You can get married there while hanging upside down beneath a helicopter, at the bottom of a mine shaft, on horseback, on llamaback or on roller skates, in a casino or anywhere else with a license obtained from the Clark (text continued on page 108) tahoe County courthouse. Most of the two dozen wedding chapels accept credit cards and one of them modestly guarantees: "We arrange everything for a beautiful wedding and a lasting marriage." The entire ceremony may be photographed and tape-recorded--and perhaps later used as evidence in the divorce proceedings back at the same courthouse that issued the marriage license. Like everything in town, the courthouse is open 24 hours a day

As a resort, Las Vegas is in a category of its own invention and therefore has no competition. There are many fashionable havens around the world where gambling, prestigious entertainment and all the regalia that accompany luxury resort life may be found, but as rivals to Vegas, they are hardly contenders. At the other resorts, you may have to fork out for membership before you can even enter a casino, or you might need a passport to prove you aren't a local. You can be barred from entrance if you aren't wearing a tie and, in some cases, the doorman will suggest that you get lost if you show up sans dinner jacket. In Vegas, however, there are no rules about ties and formals, no passports, memberships nor doormen. Some casinos don't even have doors.

To most visitors, Vegas is the Strip, a four-mile strand of tinsel on which are clustered the glamor hotels in whose plush-lined wombs headline celebrities meet their public. In addition to its "big room," every major hotel on the Strip has a lounge, where the patrons are entertained by second-magnitude stars.

Once upon a time, when gambling was the main attraction in Vegas and entertaining took second place, the shows were free and, in some places on the Strip, so was the food. Not anymore. Today, it can cost a minimum of $15 to see Sinatra and $7.50 for a ticket (text continued overleaf) to Hair, which opened at the International Hotel's theater last December. It is still possible to see some shows without buying a ten-dollar dinner, and lounge entertainment is usually offered without minimum or cover; but the era of a free night out on the Strip is long gone, though by comparison with nightclub costs elsewhere, Vegas is still a remarkable bargain.

Of the 12 biggest hotels on the Strip (14, including the International and Landmark, new arrivals located a block below the Strip), all have at least one big entertainment room and one lounge; and the ultra-high-risers also have a sky room for dinner and dancing. This adds up to a minimum of 30 shows being staged within four miles of one another at any given time--many more, if the smaller hotels along the Strip and downtown are included--which means that most people who go to Vegas (the average stay is slightly less than three days) will find time to see only a fraction of the goodies on hand.

Among those who appeared last year were Barbra Streisand, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Carson, Jack Benny, Bob Newhart, Diahann Carroll, Buddy Hackett, Jimmy Durante, Don Ho, the Everly Brothers, Fats Domino, Frankie Laine, Pete Fountain, Danny Kaye, Elvis Presley, Dick Shawn, Trini Lopez and Bobby Darin. At any given time, a visitor may find four extravaganzas filled with nudes and bizarre stage effects, two Broadway imports, numerous comics, big bands, vocal and rock groups, circus acts, conjurers, strippers, satirical revues and all-night discothèques

Not everything in town happens after dark, of course. Anyone in search of action before sunset can find golf, tennis, squash or handball, work out in a gym or lounge in the sun, steam and sauna, or drive to nearby Lake Mead for fishing, skin-diving, water-skiing, boating and sailing.

The Las Vegas "season" runs approximately from Easter to November. Actually, everything is open all year round, but except for the late fall and winter holidays, the pace slows down so drastically after Thanksgiving that a production starring 100 dancers, singers, burning houses, sandstorms, camels, colored doves and a full orchestra might play to an audience of about 12. During the off season a couple of years ago, one well-known recording star had an audience of 11 on opening night.

In season or out, weekends are usually the best time for singles; secretaries, airline hostesses and coeds flock into town from the big Western cities and campuses to compete with their professional sisters (who work the hotels, mostly in dark bars usually known as hookers' nooks) for unattached males. Though open soliciting is not permitted in Vegas hotels and any girl found in default is briskly shuttled off the premises, there are nearby counties in other parts of Nevada where the oldest profession is a legitimate industry and the houses are equipped with pools, pool tables and music. One house at Ash Meadows has its own airstrip for the convenience of its customers and another does business in a huge trailer parked symbolically between the forks of a road junction. In either you may be introduced to the basket game, a Nevada innovation in which a bottomless basket containing a bottomless lady is suspended above the customer, who lies on his back at ground zero. By a dexterous manipulation of ropes and pulleys, he soon finds himself in conjunction with the aviatrix.

Lately, and ominously, there have been rumblings that Vegas' X rating--for adults only--is in danger of being morally uplifted to something more suitable for family audiences. They say Howard Hughes is up to some good. Ever since the omnipotent dropout moved into town three years ago on a private train, there has been talk of a new! improved! cleaner! Las Vegas. So far, the only evidence of the cryptic crusader's alleged reform is a report that he outlawed nudes at a Desert Inn extravaganza; but the pessimists are convinced that even greater sacrilege may follow as Hughes expands his holdings in the area. He already owns four hotels in addition to the Desert Inn: the Sands, the Frontier, the Landmark, the Castaways, and the Silver Slipper saloon and casino; he also owns a local TV station, two airports, a ranch, a regional airline and a large piece of southern Nevada.

Nobody in Vegas has seen Hughes (or will admit to it), but it is thought that he lives at least part of the time in the penthouse of the Desert Inn; as confirmation of this rumor, the cognoscenti point to the fact that the penthouse buttons have been removed from the hotel's elevators and replaced with locks. As the only enigma in a town that doesn't like too many secrets, Hughes has provided a rich vein for local comedians. "Howard be thy name," is a popular invocation. One gag says he's planning further take-overs with his chief legal advisor, Judge Crater. But nobody knows except Howard, and he's not telling.

In his zeal to sanitize Las Vegas, there is one "vice" Hughes is unlikely to eliminate: gambling. The sound of the city is the clank and grind of slot machines. They are the first thing visitors see upon arrival at McCarran airport; they occupy more space in casinos than any other game; they can digest anything from a penny to a fin; and as a gaming investment, they are probably the worst risk in a town that offers long odds on craps, blackjack, baccarat, roulette, wheel of fortune, poker, faro, keno and bingo. If you don't know the rules, buy a good paperback that explains the odds and steers you clear of sucker bets. Craps and blackjack buffs can sharpen their technique with one of the eight daily free lessons given by the Mint Hotel. Call first to make a reservation for a class.

Few industries operate under more stringent scrutiny than Las Vegas gambling. The only cheats in town ("cross-roaders" in the trade) are customers; some of them roll flats (crooked dice), withhold cards, create diversions while a confederate increases his bet or simply steal other players' chips. To protect against these various forms of chicanery, there is a glass window strip (or a television eye-in-the-sky) over the table layouts from which casino security guards can cover the action. Usually, these are put to use only when a suspected cheat is playing; they are not manned at all times.

Vegas protects its reputation for honest gambling as passionately as a virgin does her innocence, but an inexperienced visitor can still get wiped out if he depends on dealers and croupiers--as a tyro often will--for the most helpful advice on his investments on the green felt. Rarely, if ever, will they tell him to take his winnings and leave while he's ahead; though they're not supposed to offer counsel, they might suggest instead that he double up, take the odds or bet the hard-way numbers. The best thing to do is learn the rules thoroughly, watch how the high rollers bet and do the same thing, but on your own scale. If you hit a good run and come out ahead, remember to either leave a tip or place a bet for the guys working the table. You will be welcomed back.

Craps is the fastest and most exciting game in any casino; it's also one of the best games to play because of the low percentage in favor of the house. Careful betting can reduce this percentage even further. The game has a ritualistic cadence that is sounded by the croupiers--"New shooter coming out ... yo eleven ... pay the line ... coming out again ... the point is six ... bet the hard six ... loser seven"--and punctuated by the ardent cries of high rollers as they heat up the dice for their throw (one well-known player taps the dice twice, blows on them, kisses them and throws with a long, looping underhand) and pray aloud for a winning point.

Many gamblers--even the experts--find it hard to leave a table when they're losing, which is one of the reasons gambling is a profitable business for the operators. There are few steadfast rules in any game of chance, but one law that is more or less consistent in its validity is: Stop playing after two consecutive defeats. Take a walk, have a rest or go and play another game and come back later, but move away from a losing table. A casino owner who used to bet (and win) heavily once opined that the best (continued on page 166) Swinging Superesorts system of betting a beginner should use in Vegas would be to lay his entire gambling budget for the day on one throw of the dice or one hand of cards. If he wins, he should convert his stake money back to cash immediately and play with the winnings. If he loses everything on the first shot, he's no worse off than he can afford.

Beginners who are reluctant to display their ignorance in the big hotel casinos on the Strip often try their luck and pick up a few hints at the less formidable gambling halls in "glitter gulch," which is downtown Vegas. The gulch is a two-block phalanx of hotels and casinos whose most spectacular resource is a solid wall of blinding light that is estimated by those who estimate such matters to contain in excess of 2,000,000 light bulbs and 42 miles of neon tubing, all of which consumes some 9,000,000 watts a month and costs $65,000 in electric bills. This pulsating artery, which upward-mobilists have vainly tried to rename Casino Center, lacks the snob appeal of the Strip, but moderate punters prefer its casinos for their easygoing informality--and their 25-cent minimum bets. On the Strip, it's one dollar.

Except at the Fremont and the Mint, none of the glitter-gulch hotels tries to compete with the Strip for top-line entertainment, and the bill of fare may offer anything from Bootie Boots and the Three Heels to the durable appeal of topless-à-go-go. Most of the customers wear cowboy boots and Stetsons, and the soulful Western sounds that twang along in the background add a touch of authenticity to the surroundings. Until a few years ago, the star of the main drag was "Vegas Vic," a 50-foot neon figure of a cowboy who waved, winked and boomed, "Howdy, podner!" every few seconds throughout the day and night. A couple of actors who were staying at the hotel opposite while on location for a movie--rumor identifies them as Burt Lancaster and Lee Marvin--grew weary of this insensate hospitality and early one sleepless morning loosed a hail of arrows at the caterwauling figure. The cowboy is still there, grimacing against the night sky, but he no longer has anything to say.

Surprisingly enough, croupiers and other young male employees along the Strip swear that it is easier to meet girls downtown than on the Strip. The places they recommend include the bigger gambling halls, such as the Golden Nugget, the Las Vegas, the Lucky Nevada, the Horseshoe and the four most popular downtown hotels, the Mint, the Fremont, the Four Queens and El Cortez, all of which also, of course, have casinos, in case you're unlucky in love.

Despite the informal character and lower prices along glitter gulch (a shot of whiskey can be bought for 50 cents at the bars), the Strip remains the most enticing lure in town. Most of the Strip hotels are still uncrowded by neighboring buildings, which means that guests in the high-risers get a smogless view of the distant mountain ranges that encircle the valley. They also have the satisfaction of knowing that they are staying in the epicenter of one of the world's most exciting cities; and if they are booked into Caesar's Palace, they may come to regard themselves as millionaires even if they're not, for Caesar's Palace is unquestionably the most magnificent hotel in Las Vegas in both appearance and service. Fronted by an avenue of fountains flanked by slender cypresses, the massive portico is set off by marble statues that stand in front of pillared niches and add a note of grace to the grounds. The result could have been disastrously pretentious, but it is not; there are quite a few $25,000,000 hotels (the cost of building Caesar's) in which the design-and-construction budget was dropped into a bottomless pit of poor taste. This did not happen at Caesar's. It is a far more attractive addition to the Las Vegas landscape than its huge new rival just off the Strip, the $60,000,000, 30-story International, which sticks up out of the desert with all the grace of a clenched fist.

If Caesar's is booked--and all of its 680 rooms are in fairly constant use during the season--try the Tropicana, a pleasant, low-lying hotel at the far end of the Strip, which is the more-or-less permanent home of the Folies-Bergère in Las Vegas and has a relaxing, country-club atmosphere and, paradoxically, some of the noisiest dice action in town. Closer to the center of the Strip is the Riviera, Dean Martin's home away from home when he works in Vegas.

There are nine other big hotels along the Strip. In our order of preference, they are the Dunes, Sahara, Desert Inn, Sands, Flamingo, Frontier, Thunderbird, Aladdin and Stardust. The last, like the International, claims to be the biggest resort hotel in the world, but this is a statistic better left unclaimed in a business in which more so often means less. Adding to one's uncertainty in this area is the International's claim that its 350,000-gallon swimming pool is the largest man-made body of water in Nevada after Lake Mead. The Thunderbird insists that it has 10,000 gallons more than the International. Last on our list--because it's situated off the Strip and not because it's inferior to the others--is Howard Hughes's Landmark, which opened last year. Its main feature--apart from comfortable rooms and prompt, attentive service--is a tall circular tower topped with three tiers that contain bars, a restaurant, a casino and a dancing lounge. Access to the top is gained by an outside elevator that glides up and down the side of the building and affords a splendid view of the city.

All Vegas hotels lay claim to unique attractions in decor, accommodations or special attractions (the Hacienda, for example, recently rented double rooms for $13 and refunded $10 in gambling chips). But perhaps the most exclusive feature of 1969 was the International's colony of dead bats. These were sealed into the ceilings during construction and were discovered last summer, soon after the hotel opened, when guests started to complain about an unusual odor that interfered with their peaceful contemplation of the color-television sets that are installed in every room of the hotel. Gradually, the odor turned increasingly ferocious and finally the ceilings were torn out to reveal the putrefied corpses of some 270 bats that evidently had checked into the hotel before the grand opening and had been permanently installed along with the Spanish, French and Italian decor, the six different color schemes, the Persian lounge and putting green, the lagoons and the four tennis courts. The bats were removed and the rooms now smell heavenly.

Every hotel in Vegas boasts at least one first-rate restaurant, and it is not always the one with the most lavish decor. The oyster bar at the Thunderbird, for example, is plainly furnished in wood, but the food is excellent. Their bouillabaisse consists of everything good from the sea, including oysters, crab, clams and scallops in a sauce flavored with white wine and a touch of brandy. Other recommendations are creole gumbo and fresh shucked oysters cooked in a light batter. More seafaring is available at the Dome of the Sea in the Dunes and at Moby Dick in the Stardust, which must be one of the best seafood restaurants anywhere. At the International, you can eat shoeless in the private rooms of Benihana, the famous chain of Japanese steakhouses, or you can take your choice of Italian, Mexican or Bavarian dishes (accompanied by free wine and beer) in as many restaurants. One of the more dignified hotel restaurants is Delmonico's, in the Riviera. Gourmet food is a phrase that has been flogged to death in Vegas--and elsewhere; but at Delmonico's, the Turbot Poche Mousse-line and the Pheasant à la Sonitane are prepared by expert hands, not just cooked and served.

At the Bacchanal in Caesar's Palace, houris massage the male diners' necks between staggering courses of elaborate but not always inspired fish, fowl and Romanized delicacies. And in the Regency Room at the Sands, the fare, oddly enough, is Chinese. If you feel like eating a steak or a prime cut of beef in the atmosphere of a London club, try the House of Lords at the Sahara.

We suggest you pay at least one visit to Angelina's, which features an imaginative menu of Balkan dishes (Chicken Paprikash, Egg Dumplings in Sour Cream, Shish Kabob) served to the accompaniment of--you guessed it--gypsy violins. Italian specialties are the keynote at Carlo Bombara's, Villa d'Este and Cioppino's; all three are recommended. Make sure you call for reservations at Villa d'Este and wear something that looks like a tie.

At the Golden Steer, you'll be regaled with a wide range of game dishes, including Chukkars, Pheasant and Guinea hen. A whole lamb or a goose can be served to order, or you can dine à la carte from an appetizing assortment of steaks and Continental dishes, such as Veal Piccante and Mostaccioli. Good place. And so is the Fireside (north of the city on Tonopah Highway), with a richly stocked wine cellar and sophisticated fare. Sample their Capon Veronique in Champagne Sauce.

If you fancy dining without the attentions of maîtres de and similar formalities, drop in at the Serene Room, where you can cook your own steak and play a couple of racks of eight ball while you're waiting. Another relaxed spot just off the Strip is the South Pacific (Polynesian items include beef fillet in oyster sauce and pineapple ribs), an ideal setting for a romantic tête-à-tête, if you have a thing for bamboo and jungle foliage.

It isn't always a wise move to have dinner in a hotel showroom. The cuisine, not being a major attraction, may range from slapdash to ghastly, depending on your luck. If the show you're going to see doesn't require dinner as the price of admission, reserve your table, dine somewhere else and return to the hotel just before the show starts, so that you'll have time to order drinks.

What to do after the show? Go to see another show, and another and another. The lounge shows continue until five. Or go to a movie at the Bonanza Hotel: go dancing in the International Crown Room, high above the bright lights. Or go to the Lariat Club and slap leather with Johnny Leggett and his Ragin' Cajuns. Go to the Pussycat disco and shingaling until eight in the morning. (Showgirls and dancers go there after their last performance and stay for breakfast; great music.)

When it gets light, go to Scootersville and rent a motor bike for a trip across the desert to Bonnie Springs Ranch, where you can ride quarter horses and enjoy a leisurely lunch beside a duck pond. In short, go everywhere and do everything. For Las Vegas is Alice's Restaurant, only more so--you can get anything you want, especially Alice

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If Nevada provides the desert dream of Las Vegas to drive men wild with visions of imagined wealth, it also offers one of the world's beautiful refuges, where any crapped-out novice gambler can quickly forget--or try to recoup--his losses: Lake Tahoe, which glitters like a huge star sapphire amid the snow-capped peaks of the High Sierras. Tahoe, of course, is not Nevada's exclusive possession: 42 of its 71 miles of fir-fringed shore line lie on the California side; but it is along Nevada's south shore that Lake Tahoe is at its most scenic and sybaritic.

To get there from Las Vegas, one boards an Air West jet and within the hour lands at Reno, "the biggest little city in the world" and--after a visit to Vegas--surely one of life's minor disappointments. There's no desire here to bad-mouth Reno; but the town just doesn't measure up in any way to Vegas nor to the south shore's action central--Stateline, Nevada. Reno is a city of some 70,000 folk who make a good bit of change from the gambling scene, and there certainly are a few things worth seeing, notably Bill Harrah's classic-car collection. But aside from some hotel-casino operations, there's little action to keep you in Reno.

Although the probability is that you'll be able to find digs in the Stateline area (an hour's drive from Reno), be sure to make reservations in advance if you want to stay at either of the two best hotels, the Sahara-Tahoe or Harvey's Resort Hotel. Though the Sahara-Tahoe's service occasionally buckles a bit under the stress of hosting huge conventions, it is among the most pleasantly appointed hotels in Nevada--and the place to stay in Tahoe. Its 600 rooms are spacious and the stylized cheeriness of the rooms contrasts nicely with those in the gaudier Vegas hostelries. The 14-story hotel cost $30,000,000 to build almost five years ago and, although its publicity men like to boast about its casino ("over 110 yards long and almost as wide as a football field"), gambling here is more of a diversion than an obsession; the high rollers are in Vegas.

People who've been coming to Tahoe for years--about 60 percent of its trade is from the San Francisco area, whereas Vegas draws more from L. A.--often prefer Harvey's, the first high-rise hostelry in the area and originally started as a gambling casino in 1944. To be quite honest about matters, the rooms at Harvey's are a bit on the tacky side, but the service is warm and personal. Outside of these two--and a string of motels running from grim to great--there is only one other plan we suggest: renting a place--chalet or house--at Tahoe Keys, a vacation-home development on the California shore line, a three-minute drive from the center of town. Tahoe Keys bills itself as "the last of the big splendors" and, in its own way, doesn't really overstate the case by much. About 90 percent of the $200,000,000 development's 265 or so homes (70 more are expected to rise this year) are situated on Lake Tahoe's only sheltered harbor. The average cost of an on-the-water lot is around $15,000 and half that for an off-the-water site. Add the price of a handsome custom-styled vacation home and you have a 750-acre community of very fat cats, most of whom are too involved in building their various industrial empires to spend more than a month or two in regal retreat. Rather than just let this edifice complex lie vacant, many owners allow their homes to be rented during their absence. Thus, for $250 a week, one can, in Tahoe Keys, live far more elegantly, privately and pleasurably--especially if you've brought a distaff companion--than in any hotel. On the Nevada side, Round Hill Village is a similar planned community, except that it's family-oriented, away from the water and just a bit closer to life in Levittown.

Once ensconced in a south-shore pleasure dome, you can begin exploring the area. Stateline, located on the California-Nevada border, is a tiny hamlet whose main street is Highway 50, and along it are located all the major hotels, gambling spots and restaurants. One can easily spot the stop light where Nevada becomes South Lake Tahoe, California: Because of tight zoning laws and the high value of land upon which gambling casinos can be built, the Nevada side is uncluttered and still scenic. California, with no likelihood of getting gambling legalized, has allowed four-and-a-half-year-old South Lake Tahoe to grow up like the service roads along New York's Long Island Expressway: lots of motels, gas stations, hamburger stands and a heavy supply of prosaic neon. But the California side (population 14,000) is changing for the better. John Williams, the town's former city manager, says, "Signs that look like movie marquees were being built for hot-dog stands. In this area, that kind of thing isn't simply obnoxious, it's aesthetically obscene. Under city ordinances, some of them have already disappeared, and they'll all be gone within the next five years.

If the spirit of conservation seems to run high in the area, it's because Lake Tahoe and the High Sierras surrounding it are almost excessively spectacular. Lake Tahoe, in fact, has been turning people on since it was first seen by John C. Fremont in 1844; he called it Lake Bonpland, in honor of a French botanist who was traveling with him. In 1853, it was renamed Lake Bigler after California's third governor; but nine years later, a San Francisco reporter supplied a cartographer with the Indian name of the lake (Tahoe for "high water"), and nobody's tried to change it since.

The lake has been threatened by pollution, however, most notably by hotel and casino operators. But that's past history. A bistate agency now reviews all proposed building near the shores, to make certain Tahoe doesn't become a Western Lake Erie; additionally, South Lake Tahoe now operates a sewage-treatment plant that even removes impurities most urban centers leave in their drinking water. Northern Nevada residents claim that mountain-stream-fed Tahoe is the purest body of water in the world; but if civic pride must be taken with a grain of salt, one can scarcely accuse Mark Twain of having had a booster mentality. In Roughing It, Twain wrote, after boating on the lake, that Tahoe's water "was not merely transparent but dazzlingly, brilliantly so. All objects seen through it had a bright, strong vividness, not only of outline but of every minute detail, which they would not have seen simply through the same depth of atmosphere. So empty and airy did all spaces seem below us, and so strong was the sense of floating high aloft in mid-nothingness, that we called these boat excursions 'balloon voyages.'"

All of the above should indicate that initially, at least, your days will center about the 21-mile-long lake. In addition to boating, water-skiing, diving and swimming, Tahoe also offers fine fishing: rainbow, brown and Mackinaw trout (Macks run up to 30 pounds) and Kokanee salmon. But the lure of Tahoe extends beyond the borders of the lake. Urban men who've never owned--and may never even have fired--a gun often attempt hunting in the area: There's deer and bear, duck, pheasant and quail. California's hunting season starts in September; Nevada's in October. There are also four golf courses in the immediate area, two of which are nine-hole public links; the two 18-hole courses, Edgewood Tahoe and Tahoe Paradise, are challenging, well cared for and imaginatively laid out. (A slight bonus: Because of the 6200-foot elevation, your drives will travel farther.) The hills guarding Tahoe provide exciting overviews of the lake and two of the more exhilarating ways to enjoy the scenery are on horseback and rented motor bike. The area's number-one athletic preoccupation, however, is skiing; and in winter, the slopes of Heavenly Valley--just up the hill from State-line--throng with dedicated schussers. It's not easy to pinpoint just why people who'd rather drive than walk to the corner grocery suddenly get into an outdoor bag, but that's what happens to you in Tahoe.

A full day of recreation will whet even the lightest appetite; and although most of the restaurants in the area are fair to mediocre, there are at least a couple of superb choices, thanks to the hotels. Harvey's offers the best food in the region and gives you a choice of two fine restaurants. Our preference is the Top of the Wheel--situated, not surprisingly, atop the hotel and providing a panoramic view of the lake. The decor is Polynesian, as are most of the aperitifs and much of the fare; two house specialties to sample are Mahi Mahi (broiled boneless fish flown in from the South Pacific) and Spring Chicken Sauté Lanai. Not to be confused with Trader Vic's, however, the menu also features Wild West Buffalo Steak. In the hotel's Western-motif Sage Room, order yourself a huge slab of tender beef, raised on owner Harvey A. Gross's James Canyon Ranch. Our next choice would be the Aspen Grove Steakhouse in the Sahara-Tahoe; although the service may not impress you, the steaks will.

If you care to be entertained while dining, the area's evening imperatives are the High Sierra Theater, a 1500-seat show-place in the Sahara-Tahoe, the South Shore Room at Harrah's and the Pavilion of Stars at Harvey's, all of which customarily showcase the best night-club performers in America. (They all have late shows as well.) After dinner and a show, there's always the gambling to return to. There are four gaming establishments in the area: the Sahara-Tahoe, Harvey's, Barney's (a bit seedy for our taste) and Harrah's, a gambling-entertainment center that always seems S. R. O. Blackjack is the only card game to be found at Harrah's and, although there's enough action at the crap tables, one gets the feeling that most of Harrah's profit is gained from its slot-machine operation; there are almost 1100 of them in the building, and the incessant clanking of levers and jangle of change spilling out makes the place sound like a brass-button factory.

One quickly notices that the women in the casinos are not the sleek young-bodied or rich gem-fingered wives or dyed-blonde divorcees one sees almost exclusively in Vegas. Here, they're more apt to be wearing a sweater over a knit dress and to be rather self-conscious about gambling to pass the time; a San Francisco syndrome, no doubt about it. In Tahoe, one also sees shorn and unshorn college kids, far more than in Vegas, where one gets the feeling that hippies would be driven out into the desert and diced to death by hard-throwing croupiers. The amount of money wagered is usually small; rarely do those $100 chips fall on a Tahoe crap or roulette table. When it happens, it's usually strictly for show. There are probably more $20-a-night betters here than in Vegas, where it's often a case of all you've got or nothing. There's a good reason for this state of affairs: Tahoe, unlike Vegas, is a natural as well as a complete resort, and the people drawn to its shores are not engaged in acting out their get-rich-quick daydreams. But between the flash of Vegas and the compelling beauty of Tahoe, Nevada's two superesorts are without peer in America--or, for that matter, anywhere in the world. So mosey on out to the desert and live the financial fantasy for a few days, then fly up to the Sierras to discover that nature can be an equally heady trip. As they have a habit of saying in Nevada, the odds are with you either way.