On Guard for Glitches in Glitter Gulch

Gary Hendricks scans the rainbow of neon and incandescent lights on the Las Vegas Strip. Signs blur as his truck whips past casinos, but he spots the flaw. There’s a bulb out in the letter “e.”

It’s a tiny glitch in this city of lights, but it will gnaw at Hendricks until it’s fixed. “People look at a sign and say, ‘That looks great.’ We say, ‘Not really. That’s out, that’s out, that’s out.’ ”

In a city defined by neon arcs and blinking bulbs, keeping it bright is quite a chore.

As service manager for Young Electric Sign Co., the largest sign company servicing the city’s casinos, Hendricks spends his nights and predawn hours patrolling the glitzy Strip and downtown’s Glitter Gulch looking for burned-out bulbs.

For the untrained eye, they’re hard to spot. But to Hendricks and 50 other employees in YESCO’s service department, they are as common as a cheap buffet in this town.

“All the neon looks good,” Hendricks says, driving past a prominent hotel-casino. He leans forward, squints and scribbles on a note pad. “There is a bulb out at Palace Station.”

YESCO, which operates throughout the West, first began designing signs and lighting casinos in 1932, a year after gambling was legalized in Las Vegas. Since then, the company has provided signage for most hotel-casinos and many restaurants and businesses.

The company is often pressed for new designs; their giant guitars adorn the Hard Rock Hotel and nearby Hard Rock Cafe. But some casinos shun neon altogether.

When Mirage Resorts Inc. opened the Mirage in 1989, it wanted something different, says spokeswoman Jenn Michaels. The company decided that the only neon on Mirage properties, including Treasure Island and the Golden Nugget, would be the gold lettering in the signs. Mirage chairman Steve Wynn often claims that Las Vegas has moved “beyond neon.”

YESCO keeps the 2 million incandescent bulbs bright in the Fremont Street Experience, a $70-million light-and-sound extravaganza. The lights dance each night on a canopy nine stories high and four blocks long.

Brian Hagedorn, the YESCO employee who monitors the light show, searches for computer malfunctions each night. If he spies a not-quite-right light or a not-so-animated character, he climbs atop the canopy to fix the problem.

Hendricks keeps an eye on Hagedorn’s effort. “We’re almost possessed,” says this 25-year veteran. “We’re not happy until a sign’s perfect.”

Most folks won’t even see burnouts because employees are prowling 21 hours a day and fixing them fast. Hendricks is adamant. “This is advertising,” he says. “How would you feel if you opened up your Sunday paper and half the ad was missing?”

He tells stories odd enough to fill that space.

One casino executive, whom he declines to identify, is superstitious, just like many players. If a high roller is doing well and a bulb or panel of neon burns out, he calls for immediate repairs. “They try and tie luck to signs and lighting,” Hendricks says.

Until last year, hundreds of castoffs rested in a sign graveyard next to YESCO and miles from the Strip. Many are rusted from years of exposure; others are cannibalized for parts.

The prized ones, including a genie lamp from the old Aladdin resort and a horse and rider from the Hacienda, have been placed in a neon museum downtown, just a few feet from the Fremont Street Experience.

The outdoor museum opened last year. Funded by the city, it’s free and always open. For the next seven years, the city will keep the exhibits fresh with YESCO castoffs.

Meanwhile, it’s Hendricks’ job to avoid throwaways. On this night, after a quick cruise of the Strip and a stop downtown, Hendricks logs in the next day’s repairs.

He looks forward to climbing into bed and, at least until tomorrow, turning out the lights.