A story as Rich as they come, from old Vegas
Restaurateur Mark Rich (center), seen here with Lola Falana and Sammy Davis Jr., came to Las Vegas in 1974 and was a dee jay at one of Las Vegas’ first major nightclubs , Paul Anka’s Jubilation. (Photo Courtesy: Mark Rich)
LAS VEGAS — Peering over the government-mandated mask he's forced to wear inside his latest restaurant endeavor, the glimmer in the owner's eyes brighten amidst the dim lit scenery at Salúd Mexican Bístro and Tequílería.
After recently seeing on a social media post that my dear friend Mark Rich purchased the restaurant with his daughter, Summer, I stopped in before a workout at nearby EoS Fitness, not just to wish him well on his latest venture.
I had an idea I wanted to share. Enter the glimmer.
Most Las Vegas old schoolers light up when presented with an opportunity to talk about our beloved town from the 1970s and 80s, when the town was small and intimate, and everyone knew one another.
"The people were different, more friendlier," said Rich, who's been feeding locals the past 27 years from his successful self-named pizzerias, providing a taste of New York-style pizza throughout Southern Nevada.
But his favorite pastime is sharing the same types of conversations he and I have whenever we get together.
It's conversations like those that remain the one constant - along with his wife Kristin - that ignite the same glimmer.
VEGAS OR BUST
After attending Newark State Teachers College on a wrestling scholarship and getting a degree in health and physical education he never put to use, Rich arrived in Las Vegas in 1974, when there might have been 200,000 people in the valley.
He admitted he never imagined the town would grow into what we see today, with resorts crammed up and down what was once known as Highway 91. After all, he made his way to Sin City at a time the Rat Pack still meant something up and down Las Vegas Boulevard. It was a time most traveled The Strip between Sahara and Flamingo Boulevards only, and it took probably about 10 minutes to do so.
Upon arrival, Rich dealt craps for six months at the Fremont and Golden Nugget before Larry Taylor - the man some credit as Las Vegas' first discotheque dee jay - asked him to spin records at a club named Confederacy in 1975. From there he added dee jay stints at popular clubs PJ Bottoms (1976-78) and Dirty Sally's (1978-82).
As smaller nightclubs opened around the valley, two discotheques emerged as the biggest - The Brewery and Jubilation.
The former provided a late-night spot for partygoers who didn't mind dancing their way into the wee hours and exiting as the sun was rising. The latter was owned by legendary entertainer Paul Anka and a group of partners from Chicago and added an elegant feel to the disco vibe. It was the place to be if you wanted to sit in the same atmosphere of some of Las Vegas' most savory personalities.
Mark Rich (left), seen here with former heavyweight champion Joe Frazier, ran into hundreds of celebrities, pro athletes and other colorful characters that made up Las Vegas, while serving as dee jay at Paul Anka’s Jubilation. (Photo Courtesy: Mark Rich)
Rich started spinning records at Jubilation in 1982 and was eventually promoted to head dee jay. It's where one of his favorite stories to share took place, involving one of Las Vegas' most notorious characters.
Everybody that was anybody wanted to be inside Jubilation. It was Las Vegas' version of the original Studio 54, long before New York City's famed nightclub opened inside the MGM Grand in 1997. One particular night, Sammy Davis Jr. was celebrating his birthday party in the club's mezzanine, and the place was packed. Rich was not just spinning records, he was helping seat people, knowing where regulars liked to sit.
Some hot shot with a woman on each arm walked into the DJ booth and handed Rich $200 for a premier, center-of-attention booth that overlooked the dance floor. With more than 1,500 people in the club, there wasn't a seat to be had - except that booth.
But Rich told the man the booth was unavailable. Thirty minutes later he returned with $250, wanting the same booth. Rich stood firm.
"He said, 'What is God coming?'" Rich narrated, with an ear-to-ear grin and the glimmer at its brightest. "And I told him, 'Pretty much.'"
That was Tony Spilotro and Frank Rosenthal's booth, and Rich knew better.
Twenty minutes later Spilotro and Rosenthal arrived, the man returned to the dee jay booth, handed Rich a $20 bill and thanked him for not sitting him there.
"Back in the 70s, the early 80s, the town was warm, it was small, a lot of people knew each other," Rich said. "Up until '85 this town was safe, the mob ran most of the town and we never had problems like the problems we have today in this town.
"Being able to know those guys and talk to those guys as much as I did, these were good people. These were people that always had your back."
Which was why Rich appreciated and learned the meaning of loyalty.
Just ask Frank Anobile, better known to Las Vegas as DJ Frankie, the man credited with ushering hip hop into the valley in 1981.
"Mark Rich was a great guy to meet when I first came here," said Anobile, originally from the Brooklyn neighborhood Canarsie. "He was always a smart guy, he was always willing to help people, he was also looking to always get ahead in life, and he did. He did good being good to people that he came across in his life and business, and he did good for himself."
The two shared an East coast realness Las Vegas was still learning at the time.
Anobile was in Jubilation and asked Rich if he could jump on the wheels of steel for a couple of mixes after thumbing through the club's collection of records.
"He said, 'You ready?' and he walked away," Anobile said.
Rich went down to the dance floor and Anobile thought he'd only be a couple minutes and he'd play two or three records. But when Rich noticed Anobile pull about 10 records out, set them up behind the turntables as dee jays once did - long before computers and dee jay apps made life simpler - he let him stay in the booth to spin for roughly 45 minutes.
Impressed, Rich came back upstairs and offered Anobile a job on the spot.
"He didn't just help me get that job there, he told me where to get a haircut, he told me what the best part of town to look in for apartments, he told me how to get my Sheriffs Card," Anobile said. "He was a good guy. I was glad to meet a guy like that."
And just like that, as Rich was coming into his own at the hottest nightclub in soon-to-boom Las Vegas, he gave one of the most important people in the history of the town's entertainment industry his first break.
LAST CALL
The great thing about Rich, according to Anobile, was he knew he wasn't a great mixologist; he was simply an emcee who knew what to play and how to segue one record into another. Simply put, he played good music that was popular at the time and knew how to play for the crowd.
So as Las Vegas transitioned into more of a resort- and themed-like town, and The Strip began booming, Rich closed out his dee jay days at two of the last independent clubs outside of hotels - the Metz and The Hop - spinning his last wax in 1993.
One year later his prior wife, Dalene, died of breast cancer and he knew it was time to shelve his record crates and opened his first pizzeria in the Northwest end of town, where the valley began expanding.
"I didn't have the heart to stay in it anymore because my wife was my best friend - she was my everything," said Rich, that glimmer from talking about Old Vegas momentarily becoming glazed with tears. "That's when I had the opportunity to open my own restaurant and never looked back."
Mark Rich's NY Pizza and Pasta on Rancho and Cheyenne quickly became a neighborhood favorite. He stayed there from 1994 through 2001, when he shifted to Centennial Hills and ran strong until selling the establishment in 2013, when he opened his third pizzeria in Summerlin on West Charleston Road, where it now operates under new ownership.
His name, however, remains because it's become household due to his loyalty to the neighborhoods and patrons he's served for 27 years with the same allegiance and integrity he learned from a time those attributes meant something in Las Vegas.
"Those were great days, the old days, I don't think will ever be back," Rich said. "I don't think there's a lot of old Vegas left here in town; remnants of it. But the memories that you're left with, they'll never go away, and I don't think they could ever be replaced.
"I always tell people there needs to be an oldies club where the people that were here back in the day can still come and mingle. We don't have any of those things anymore. Everything is just the modern nightclubs you see on The Strip today. Nothing to want to bring out the old timers."
Until that happens, he'll rely on the conversations with the same knock-around guys and gals who spark a glimmer in his eyes whenever visiting one of Vegas' nicest old-school gents.
