"The aspect of Circus that has me disturbed is the popcorn, peanuts and kids side of it. And also the Carnival Freaks and Animal side of it The dirt floor, sawdust and elephants After all, the Strip is supposed to be synonymous with a good-looking female all dressed up in a very expensive diamond-studded evening gown and driving up to a multi-million dollar hotel in a Rolls-Royce. Now you tell me what, in that picture, is compatible with a circus in its normal raiment, exuding its normal atmosphere and its normal smell?"
- Howard Hughes
A rare constant in the ever-changing world of Las Vegas fashion, Circus Circus has remained true to itself for almost forty years. Back in the 1960s, when it started out, combining children's entertainment with casino gambling under a single roof was a pretty radical concept. Later on, it came to be embraced as Las Vegas's most surefire money-spinning formula. Now it's something of a discredited cliché; and yet Circus Circus just carries on regardless.
Circus Circus began life as Jay Sarno's follow-up to his megahit Caesars Palace , reinvesting the profits from the sale of Caesars to create a new property that would appeal to fun-seeking families and high rollers alike. The basic theme, of a hectic, spit-and-sawdust gaming area at street level overlooked by a carnival-style "midway" on the mezzanine, featuring sideshows and circus performers, was much as it remains today. It took a while to get the details right, however. Not only did the original Circus Circus lack any hotel accommodation, but it even charged an admission fee to visitors. On top of that, Hughes' revulsion had some basis in fact. The midway was at first the sleazy preserve of unsavory independent operators. One sideshow, for example, "Bed Toss," invited to throw softballs in the hope of spilling naked showgirls out of giant satin beds. At least Sarno was forced to abandon his experiments with propelling "flying" elephants along a concealed monorail system, when it became clear that his would-be Dumbos couldn't contain their excitement and would have to wear diapers. Only once Sarno sold his stake to William Bennett, in 1974, did Circus Circus turn both wholesome and profitable, so much so in fact that Circus Circus Enterprises (now the Mandalay Resort Group) went on to become the leading casino operator in the country.
Though the main building of Circus Circus is very low-rise by Las Vegas standards, its presence on the Strip is unmistakeable, thanks both to its gigantic Lucky-the-Clown neon sign and its marquee-like Big Top canopy. Clowns, contortionists and trapeze artists still cavort on the central midway stage upstairs between 11am and midnight daily, surrounded by a more consistently child-oriented array of fairground stalls and attractions. With new hotel towers being added year after year, the whole Circus Circus complex stretches so far back that there's even an in-house monorail link to help lost or exhausted guests return to their rooms.
No one could mistake Circus Circus for a sophisticated joint. Even the most gung-ho apologist for the gaming industry would be hard pressed to find anything glamorous about its three low-stakes, high-volume casinos. What's more, while Circus Circus may have pioneered the provision of no-smoking areas, its low ceilings actually make it one of the most claustrophobic and smoky places to gamble in town.
Circus Circus continues to lure in tourists with children - even those staying elsewhere in Las Vegas - largely because of its theme park, the Adenturedome (Mon-Thurs 11am-6pm, Fri 11am-midnight, Sat & Sun 10am-midnight), which was tacked onto the back of the property in 1993, at the same time as its now-vanished rival at the MGM Grand . Credit for its survival must go to the huge bubble of pink glass that protects its full five-acre extent from the extremes of the local climate. Entered only through the casino proper, the dome encloses a Disney-esque melange of rides and sideshows. Around its central feature, a big red-rock mountain that reaches almost to the artificial sky, race both the Canyon Blaster roller coaster and the newer, spinning Chaos ride, passing such dioramas as an Indian pueblo village and a herd of animatronic dinosaurs. Visitors can choose whether to pay $3-5 for each individual attraction, or to buy an all-day wristband priced at $19 if you're over four feet high, $14 if you're not.
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