It’s the Last Roundup at Mustang Ranch

At the Mustang Ranch, the women all call their customers “honey.” And on this last wild Saturday night, what naughty smiles they wore as they lined up like stiletto-heeled dream queens, waiting patiently for these out-of-towners and high-stakes sexual gamblers to make their choice.

For 35 years, the customer has always been king at this collection of brightly colored bordello buildings not far from Sparks. But now the brothel’s 100 working girls face lining up at the unemployment office as the once-mighty Mustang closes for good.

Come this afternoon, when federal agents padlock Nevada’s oldest and most notorious brothel, a perverse piece of western Americana will finally bite the dust.

“When they shut down this business, it’s going to hurt,” said one working girl wearing a purple micro-miniskirt. “It’ll hurt a lot of men. And women who work here. And families.”

The closure marks the latest chapter in the often lawless history of the Mustang, which grew from a tacky trailer into a round-the-clock complex of hot tubs, swimming pools, soft leather couches and a beamed ceiling above an elongated bar--one that has long played host to politicians and sports stars, company executives and average joes out for an illicit thrill.

Over the years, the Mustang has survived bad publicity, from mysterious fires to the 1976 murder of heavyweight boxer Oscar Bonavena, shot outside its gate. And although the ranch always bounced back, even ardent supporters admit its days are finally numbered.

The brothel’s loss leaves officials to ponder the future of legalized prostitution in rural Storey County, a swath of desert where the ponderosa and skittering jack rabbits outnumber humans.

Last month, in the latest of a long saga of court verdicts against the infamous brothel, a former Mustang madam and the bordello’s two operating companies were convicted in federal court of racketeering and fraud.

Prosecutors said the two companies were established to hide the identity of the brothel’s true owner, Joseph Conforte, a toupee-wearing bordello baron who founded the state’s first brothel in 1955.

Skimming $500,000 a year from brothel profits, insiders used Swiss bank accounts to siphon money to Conforte, who authorities believe has been living in Rio de Janeiro since fleeing the country to avoid tax evasion charges.

Officials auctioned off the Mustang in 1990 after Conforte failed to pay a $13-million tax debt. A year later, from his Brazilian hide-out, Conforte orchestrated the repurchase of the ranch, prosecutors say.

“It’s a sordid story,” said Assistant U.S. Atty. J. Gregory Damm. “And it involves a worldwide network of bogus companies and deceptive transactions, all designed to obscure and frustrate the efforts of law enforcement to trace the Mustang Ranch’s true ownership.”

On July 9, a jury ruled the federal government could seize the brothel’s assets and ordered owners to turn over the two bordellos, Mustang I and Mustang II.

Mustang spokesman George Flint fears the government will bulldoze the old brothel. “The feds are afraid that, like Napoleon returning from Waterloo, Joe Conforte is going to come back in somebody else’s body and psyche and take up at the Mustang right where he left off.”

It wouldn’t be the first time authorities leveled the bordello. In 1959, local officials burned it to the ground after declaring the place a public nuisance.

But Conforte came back, over the decades earning a reputation as the cigar-chomping Al Capone of Storey County, one who did prison stints for everything from extortion to bribing public officials.

Seen as a cross between Robin Hood and Don Corleone, Conforte was once featured on the cover of Rolling Stone and every year donated 1,000 turkeys to the poor. He once offered free brothel passes to returning Desert Storm soldiers.

But with the banishment of Conforte and his brothel, Storey County’s 3,500 residents must survive the loss of a major revenue source--one that meant $500,000 to a $4-million annual county budget.

“I’m sorry to see it go,” said County Commissioner Charles Haynes. “The Mustang was the MGM Grand of brothels and it was good for this community despite all the notoriety. Its closure means a real cultural loss for this county.”

But Nevada state Sen. William Raggio disagrees. In 1959, as the young Storey County district attorney, Raggio lit the match as local authorities burned down the Triangle Ranch--a Mustang precursor opened by Conforte.

Forty years later, Raggio’s views haven’t changed.

“The Mustang Ranch has proven to be a public thorn and a criminal endeavor,” he said. “It’s not just girls turning a trick but all that goes along with it--narcotics and crimes and losers.

“And it doesn’t do much for Nevada’s image, either.”

Midnight on the brothel’s last full day in business saw the place packed with men who paraded through in groups of 10 as professor types crowded next to truck drivers and college boys.

As a disco ball threw rays of light across the room and reggae singer Bob Marley jammed from the jukebox, clients paid $3 for a five-ounce cup of beer and looked about hungrily. Some played wallflower, while others negotiated for favors that started at $300.

From his wheelchair, a longtime Mustang denizen named Emmitt sadly watched one girl throw her arms around a customer in a good-bye embrace. Emmitt has been coming to the Mustang for 25 years, the last two in his chair after contracting muscular dystrophy, with the girls often meeting him at his car to wheel him inside.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” he said. “But my wallet won’t.”

Over at Mustang II, a smaller version of the original brothel, the bar has the feel of the lobby of some low-rent men’s hotel with its velour furniture.

“The Mustang is my alma mater,” said Yvette, “but there’s 40 other brothels in this state, from Carson City to Winnemucca, and I’ve worked them all. I’ll take my talents elsewhere.”

All day Sunday, girls dressed in shorts dragged out suitcases to load into sports cars, often covering their heads with paper bags to avoid the media cameras. Some hugged and wept before screeching away in a last blaze of parking lot smoke. Meanwhile, looky-loos snapped pictures of the Mustang’s iron gate, designed to keep out troublemakers and crusading church groups.

Because there is no room in Nevada’s brothel trade to absorb them all, some girls said they might return to the streets or even retire from the world’s oldest profession.

The Mustang’s closure leaves Storey County with only one brothel, the Old Bridge Ranch, located near the Mustang. But county officials have long tried to close the venture, suspecting that owner David Burgess--Joe Conforte’s nephew--is a local Hells Angels leader.

Storey County commissioners will consider possibly outlawing brothels entirely, rescinding a 1971 law that established the county as the first in the nation to legalize brothels.

“I’m not ruling anything out,” said Haynes. “We’re just going to have to sit down and talk about a future without the Mustang.”

Outside the ranch early Sunday, in the eerie darkness of this isolated outpost, some drunken 18-year-olds howled at the moon, one shouting that he owed a girl named Tyson a piece of his personal history.

“Woohoo,” the young man said. “I think I’m in love.”