Chicken Ranch : Town Keeps a Wary Eye on Brothel

A straw-dry whistle of air blows across this sun-ravaged town as 15 working girls clad in blue jeans and T-shirts pile into a van for a ride to the community clinic.

It is Tuesday--Doctor Day--the appointed day each week when the women are tested for occupational hazards of the Chicken Ranch, a lucrative bordello that attracts about 30,000 customers a year.

People at the Pahrump Medical Center appreciate their $700-per-month net from the ranch. It is a tidy sum for a small clinic largely dependent on community support to keep its doors open.

The weekly medical visit is the only exposure these women get to Pahrump (pronounced pay rump by the women), save for an occasional trip to PJ’s Market or to Valley Bank of Nevada to deposit earnings secured from Las Vegas gamblers who travel 63 miles for a sure bet.

By mutual understanding, they are largely invisible to the townsfolk, hidden like church mice behind crimson lace curtains, plying their craft inside four mobile homes that in 1978 were strung together on 41 acres of desert scrub to form Nye County’s most famous house of prostitution.

The people who live on this parched gray-and-chocolate-colored landscape prefer it that way.

For many residents here, the ranch is something akin to living near a toxic waste dump--distasteful, but inevitable.

“It’s a live-and-let-live situation,” Pahrump real estate agent Bob Nelson said. “They don’t come see us, and we don’t go see them. We just tolerate it. What else can you do?”

$1.1 Million for Ranch

It is one thing, residents imply, to know that strumpeteering is taking place on the edge of town, and quite another to have leggy, buxom women flaunting their trade in the sun-beaten faces of its ranchers and alfalfa farmers, its retired citizens or its Nevada Test Site workers.

And Russell Reade, who bought the Chicken Ranch--one of 37 legalized brothels in Nevada--from Walter Plankington in 1981 for $1.1 million, is well aware of that.

The 45-year-old former biology teacher and sex-education counselor from a Northern California high school knows that the unincorporated town of 5,346 has 13 churches, many of them Mormon.

He also knows that Plankington infuriated the community in the mid-1970s with local advertising (Reade never advertises in town) and by refusing to share any of his wealth with the growing town. And he knows that church-instigated petitions were circulated before his takeover to remove the Chicken Ranch from Pahrump.

But the smooth-talking Reade, who got into the brothel business after answering a provocative two-line ad in the Wall Street Journal that read, “High cash flow. Legal in Nevada,” moved quickly to ease public tensions.

He made sure the women never ventured off the ranch for the 10-minute drive into town except for essentials. And his two cooks, nurse, bookkeeper, gardener, maintenance man and shift managers--or madams--were hired locally.

‘Just Running a Business’

Reade, a handsome bachelor with a rich thicket of brown hair flecked with gray, has sponsored bowling teams and a Little League team called the Leghorns--the name he also gave the Chicken Ranch bar.

“We’d have even a greater sports program in this town if people got off his back,” Diana Hazeltine said while waiting for a manicure at Carol’s Headquarters, the local beauty parlor. “He’s just running a business.”

Reade believes in spreading his capitalist acumen to his employees by offering them financial planning and tax services. He said he wants them to be able to leave the Chicken Ranch prepared for another line of work.

In the interim, however, staying in the good graces of Pahrump’s no-nonsense citizenry is paramount.

Last year, “Mr. Madam,” as the women at the ranch affectionately call Reade, donated some furniture to one of the churches.

When Plankington once tried to make a similar offering, he was “politely refused,” Pahrump Community Church Pastor Ron Burg recalled.

“Something like this does not lend itself to a good moral climate,” Burg said. “But we’re not on any soap boxes lately opposing it.”

Prostitution is part of Nye County’s life. Its history is steeped in the tradition of the oldest profession.

The Pahrump Library has several copies of “Nye County Brothel Wars” on its shelves, a rambunctious account of the bitter feuding that used to flare between rival brothel owners.

‘Pretty Well Respected’

“We’re still not pleased with prostitution in our community,” Pahrump Chamber of Commerce President Ron Floyd recently sighed over a cup of coffee. “But that guy out there, that Reade, I have to admire him. He runs the place real well. Real professional. He hasn’t exploited anyone, and he’s pretty well respected.”

Nye County community health nurse Marilynn Gallivan said there have been no cases of sexually transmitted disease among the Chicken Ranch women in more than three years.

Lt. R. J. Trummell of the Nye County Sheriff’s Department said the Chicken Ranch is just another business in Pahrump as far as he is concerned.

“I’ve been here seven months, and we haven’t had a call except for one guy using a stolen credit card,” Trummell said.

Or as Bob Norton, financial secretary at the Mormon Church, huffed: “We don’t like it. Never will. But we’ve made our peace with it. There’s sin everywhere. Not just in Pahrump, you know.”

Back at the ranch, “Playful Mary,” as her business card reads, and “Naughty Nancy” sunbathe topless beside the outdoor swimming pool that faces the ranch’s private 3,000-foot landing strip. Reade offers free commuter airline and limousine service between Las Vegas and Pahrump.

“It’s just like Club Med,” Mary said with a smile. “Jogging. Swimming. Exercise rooms. Good food.”

Mary, 24, began working at the ranch two years ago after she tired of her job as a computer technician. She plans to open a real estate business in a few years.

Nancy, 29, is married and has a 10-year-old son. Her husband in Las Vegas is aware of her work. Nancy said he does not mind. Neither thinks it important to inform their third-grader.

Old Bartering System

The Chicken Ranch derives its name from a system of bartering in Texas during the Depression, when chickens were exchanged for sexual favors. These days, it is cash, major credit cards or casino chips.

The brothel prices range from $200 up to $1,000--for patrons staying overnight--and the money is split 50-50 with Reade. On an active day, a woman can make as much as $3,000.

Reade said he has a list of nearly 50 women waiting for the chance to work at the Chicken Ranch. “This is the Rolls-Royce of brothels,” he boasted. “The Caesars Palace of whorehouses.”

The atmosphere compares to a sorority house. Each woman has her own room, the same one she uses to entertain clients.

The women, who typically work two weeks then have a week off, eat together every morning at 11 and take a dinner break at 5 p.m. Steak and lobster are often the fare on Sundays.

A patron, after making his way down the gravel road past the pet cemetery and red-brick VFW headquarters, comes upon a neon sign that reads, “The World Famous Chicken Ranch.”

‘Ladies, We Have Company’

A cyclone fence with barbed wire at the top circles the trailers, and a buzzer must be pressed to gain entry. Inside the front parlor, seated on an ornate white couch covered with plastic, the madam calls out, “Ladies, we have company.”

Seconds later, glittering women appear in one-piece body suits by day or ankle-length evening gowns by night and stand before the customer. Only their eyes speak, and the man chooses.

“On some nights, usually when there’s a big fight (boxing) in town, we’ll have 40 or 50 men sitting in here,” Reade said. “It’s really something to see.”

Of course, many Pahrump residents would rather the Chicken Ranch be neither seen nor heard from.

“It’s a dirty little business going on there,” said Lillie Hastings, who left Los Angeles last year to retire in Pahrump. “I have a doctor in Santa Monica, and he jokes when I tell him I live in Pahrump. He’ll start right in about the whorehouse. It’s a little embarrassing.”