360 Vegas

I’ve said this before: if I had a time machine, I know exactly what I’d do with it.  No, I wouldn’t steal a sports almanac or try to get my parents to kiss at the big dance. I’ve already graduated high school, so I wouldn’t use it to pass my history final, either. No, I would head back in time at 88.8 miles per hour to the Copa Room at the Sands in 1960, to see the greatest show one could see for $5.95. Dinner included. Like many of you, I have a decidedly romantic view of “old Vegas.” A time where women were ladies and comps were truly comps. When men wore hats (thanks for nothing, JFK).  And when you could see a legend performing in the lounge. Often for free. I also have a decidedly romantic view of the mid-century crooners. Dean Martin, with a voice dark and syrupy like bourbon, and a total cheeseball when live on stage. Sammy Davis Jr., the most talented of them all, who could sing, dance, and act all his contemporaries under the table. And of course, the man himself: the Chairman of the Board, the on