Winter Is the In Season for Las Vegas Shoe Shiners

These are heady days for those in the business of spiffing up feet.

Winter is here, and the shoe shiners of Las Vegas are savoring snakeskin boots, Italian penny loafers and high-priced dress shoes. Summer flip-flops and sandals, the bane of the shoe shiner’s existence, are gone.

“You can’t make any money. Forget about it,” said James Agati, 80, who works at a busy two-person stand at the Luxor hotel-casino on the Las Vegas Strip. “After October, those are the good months.”

Agati is among a platoon of shoe shiners who dot the city’s casinos. They await cold and rainy days, feeding on the multitudinous winter conventions that supply their stands with a never-ending line of customers.

The long drought is over. It’s time to shine.

Most shoe shiners or bootblacks are armed with the same basic tools: a good quality brush, plenty of buffing and cleaning rags, and lots of polish.

But each shine is unique -- like the characters giving them.

The gray-haired, bespectacled Agati dabs shoes with Kiwi polish, using the tips of his well-worn fingers to penetrate the leather.

“Most guys don’t know how to shine,” he said. “They’re afraid to get their hands dirty. I’m not.”

John Solheim, former sheriff of Pierce County in Washington state, sits down for a shine at the solid oak stand that boasts leather seats. Agati, who once shined shoes for a nickel in the New York subway when he was 9, hits the footwear and conversation with gusto. He gabs about his Navy experiences in World War II when his ship was sunk in the Atlantic in 1943. Invariably, he talks about his current profession and the bits of wisdom he’s gleaned in eight decades of life.

“If you got a nice suit and dirty shoes, people don’t think much of you. Shoes make a man, even the woman. I think Italian shoes are the best.”

Solheim nods.

About 10 minutes later, Agati is putting the finishing touches on Solheim’s big old boots.

A rag slaps the leather.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Solheim stares at his feet, impressed with the shiny result.

“I’ve had lots of shines before, but this is a good one,” he said.

Location is everything. Those lucky enough to be on the Strip prosper.

Robert Waititu, 37, has some of the best shoeshine real estate. The Kenyan has occupied the same stand for four years at Mandalay Bay, and traffic is good. His shines can take seven or eight minutes and involve several stages.

One client sports a pair of brown, ankle-high Steve Madden boots that land on the stand’s brass pedals. Waititu sprays a clear liquid, allowing the mist to shroud them.

Spritz. Spritz.

The question has to be asked. Is there spit in that bottle?

“No,” Waititu replied. “But you never know what’s in there.”

Waititu lathers the shoes with a white conditioner and applies an edge dressing to the sole and heel. He follows with the appropriate polish and deploys two big horsehair brushes. His elbows and arms move furiously in sync.

Swoosh. Swoosh.

Lastly comes conditioner again, a buffing and a sturdy nylon strip that revives the once lackluster shoes.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“There are so many ways of skinning a cat,” Waititu said. “This is the best way.”

His method has won admirers.

“The guy don’t mess around,” said Paco Chavez, a restaurant manager at Mandalay. “Take that from a Marine. I know how to spit shine.”

Chavez is a regular customer -- clientele beloved for their loyalty. Weekend visitors are courted for spending freely. Cowboys attending the National Finals Rodeo are relished for their, yes, cowboy boots. Women don’t come around often. Car dealers are coveted for their wallets.

“Those guys have money,” Waititu said.

And the drunks who plop down after a hard night of drinking and gambling?

“Drunk people are the best.”

They throw money at Waititu without thinking. The one downside, he said, his grin broader than his brush strokes, is that they can pass out in the chair. With only three seats at his stand, a limp body can slow business.

On a very good day, the talkative Waititu shines 30 pairs of shoes at $8 to $9 a pop. His charm is as smooth as his shine.

Robert Fisher can’t match those numbers. Ten a day makes him happy.

Fisher, 60, has a corner in a dingy bathroom of the aging Plaza hotel-casino in gritty downtown. The Plaza is no Bellagio or Mandalay with sparkling urinals, spotless marble floors and pleasant scents.

Fisher’s workplace is suffused with the inescapable odor that accompanies some bathrooms after too many flushes. His French vanilla candle helps, and the country music passes the long hours.

Fisher has been shining shoes off and on for 50 years. He’s known as the “shoe doctor” and “miracle man.”

He boasts the best shine in town.

“I got my secrets,” he confided.

The refrain is heard often among his peers, whose trade is filled with mysterious touches that vary from stand to stand.

“A shoeshine guy will never tell you what he uses,” Waititu said.