Question of the Day - 24 May 2025

In 1988, the Frontier was sold to Margaret Elardi, then-owner of the Pioneer Hotel in Laughlin. According to a 2003 reminiscence by Gregory Crosby, writing in the Las Vegas Mercury, the Elardi family immediately set to "stripping the Frontier of whatever frills it still had in a bid to go after low-income gamblers, ditching the showroom (and sending Siegfried and Roy on to their spectacular success at The Mirage)." The Silver Slipper, which Mrs. Elardi also bought, was demolished and replaced with a parking lot.

Another "frill" of which the Elardis wished to rid themselves was union representation. They terminated pension-fund contributions, spied on employees, and as a federal court later ruled imposed unfair work policies.

This series of provocations prompted several unions to take a strike vote on Sept. 19, 1991, and it wasn’t even close: 464 "ayes" to seven "nays." Four locals -- Culinary 226, Bartenders 165, Teamsters 995, and Operating Engineers 501 -- took to the pavement, 550 members strong, and "strong" came to be the operative word over the next six-plus years.

Both sides fired off salvoes of verbiage. From the Elardi camp came the following: "The corrupt Culinary Union has been attacking the Elardis for several months. … If the union wants to make war in the state of Nevada, [we] will make them wish they never started it."

The Culinary’s then-Secretary/Treasurer Jim Arnold responded that Mrs. Elardi was "starting a war that I think nobody wants. Either sell or settle." Time would tell which of those two options it would be.

The bellicose language was appropriate, considering that the Frontier was subsequently under siege by the union, making it a pariah among Strip casinos. Former business reporter Dave Berns, in a Las Vegas Review-Journal retrospective, described the ensuing strife as a series of "rallies and arrests, fistfights, political posturing, propaganda campaigns, lawsuits, accusations of spying, indictments, and impasses."

Some of the union’s early tactics were confrontational in the extreme. During the first week, strikers formed a human chain that barricaded Strip traffic for 90 minutes. Police arrested nearly 100 strikers. After that, the Culinary settled into the drudgery of pavement-pounding. Picketers were videotaped by the Elardis, who said they had visual evidence of protestors indecently exposing themselves, as well as using racial and ethnic epithets.

The Elardis’ biggest publicity coup came nearly two years into the strike, when a pair of tourists from California clashed with union members. One of the Californians, Sean White, got clocked with a picketer’s beer mug. Although the Culinary later settled up with White, it handed the Elardi family a publicity bonanza. Full-page newspaper ads purchased by the Frontier charged, "... Beating up tourists will be a short cut to [the unions’] extortionate ends."

As you can see, this was a most bitter strike and there was no way that either side would ever come to terms with the other.

A string of losses in court culminated in a June 9, 1997, ruling by the National Labor Relations Board, which ordered the Frontier to cease its surveillance of union members and to start good-faith negotiations. It was roughly at this point that the Elardis decided they'd rather sell than settle.

A new player had entered the game. Kansas entrepreneur and hotelier Phil Ruffin was interested in acquiring the Frontier and made no secret that his first order of business would be to agree to a new pact with the unions. This was music to the ears of strife-weary Nevada casino regulators, who approved Ruffin’s $167 million purchase in expeditious fashion. And in late January 1998 shortly before taking the keys to the Frontier, Ruffin inked agreements with the four striking unions, plus Carpenters Local 1780.

Any of the 550 strikers who wanted to return could have their jobs back. (Those who'd taken their place at the Frontier weren't so lucky.) Explained Ruffin, "Anybody with balls enough to stay out there on a deal like this, we want as our employees."

The New Frontier was imploded on Nov. 13, 2007.

The Elardis, of course, turned their attention to Casino Royale, which they'd owned since 1990 when it was Nob Hill. It was renovated and reopened as Casino Royale in 1992. They still own it.