Pahrump, Nevada- [vegasblog.latimes.com]- On Valentine’s Day I drove to Pahrump to spend some time at the Chicken Ranch brothel. While prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, outside the borders of Clark County, Nevada is the only state in the nation with legalized brothels. In addition to its famous name (imported from Texas), The Chicken Ranch has the distinction of being the closest brothel to Las Vegas. I figured the place would be packed; Vegas is overflowing this weekend because of the NBA weekend, the MAGIC fashion convention, Chinese New Year, and, of course, a three day weekend on the horizon. In terms of story possibilities, a packed brothel on Valentine’s Day, seemed like fishing in an overstocked lake.
This was my first time back at the Chicken Ranch since I lived there for a week to write a cover story for Las Vegas Weekly in June, 2005. It was also my first drive back to Pahrump, and I noticed the Vegas housing boom, now cooling, has had an impact on Pahrump. During my previous visit the town was still centered around people buying individual empty lots and filling them (with a strong preference for manufactured homes). Pahrump was known to be affordable. The 45 mile or so road to Vegas winds through difficult terrain and is poorly lit, too narrow, and locally known for its lethal accidents. That road is now receiving an upgrade and people in Vegas are more willing to cast an eye to Pahrump in order to buy a home. So, after pulling across the county line, the area around Pahrump that used to be empty now boasts under construction sub-developments, and as in Vegas, you see signs saying: “Starting in the low 200’s.” It will be interesting to see when these newcomers become voters if they are still comfortable with Nevada’s tradition of legal brothels or choose to end the practice. This has not happened in the face of the growth, albeit less explosive, to the brothels up north. In fact, the brothels near Reno have never had a higher profile thanks to owners like Dennis Hof.
The brothels in the south have always been more press shy. In fact, when I arrived in 2005 I was the first reporter allowed such access to the brothel in living memory. The primary reason I was allowed to do the story is that the Chicken Ranch was for sale and the owner wanted to be open in showing the professional way the general manager, Debbie, runs the place in order to encourage buyers. Back then I had a long list of rules printed out to follow and there was a lot of nervousness among some of the working girls about my visit. In this area, too, things have changed. Debbie, told me when I arrived at the Chicken Ranch that a documentary was currently being filmed following some of the women who work there. There is a core group of the licensed prostitutes willing to do press and those who won’t. Of the 10-12 working during this recent visit 4 were willing to be interviewed.
Besides Debbie the only lady familiar from my previous visit was Meow-Meow, the brothel cat.
“I guess this is a night people want to spend with their wives and girlfriends,” Saphire said. She said this about 6 hours after I arrived. The place was dead and had been all night. There had, maybe, been 6 customers during the entire time.
After being buzzed through the gate the customers can choose either a traditional line-up in the parlor or to go to hang out in the sports bar with the juke box for a more informal meet and greet called a barlor. Both take about 5 minutes. Other than that and dinner most everyone kept to her room. I spent most of the night hanging out with Saphire, 26, and her friend Kittie, also 26. The two women spent the time drinking (charged to their accounts) and playing pool in the bar.
After six years as a stay at home mom, Kittie started working at the Chicken Ranch in September. Her husband is in sales and the family was sick of being dependant on the vagaries of commissions. They were already swingers. “I was popular in swingers clubs because I could smell on someone if they are bad in bed. When a new couple arrived everyone would tell me to go smell the guy to see if he was okay.” I tried to keep out of smell range.
Saphire used to do adult films and has been working at the Chicken Ranch for two years. “I didn’t want to do porn anymore, because I was sick of being the only one on set crocheting.” She is serious about her crocheting. She plans to crochet patters from M.C. Escher. She is from a farm in Montana and was raised a bohemian free spirit adding her own eccentric streak.
As with my last visit, what I enjoyed most were the strong personalities drawn to the profession. Sometimes too strong. Saphire is getting ready to take a court ordered impulse control class for an incident with her ex-husband. I asked her twice if she regretted her behavior. “He started it,” she said. When I asked her if that meant he started the physical part of the fight she was first vague before elaborating on his sleazy behavior with another woman. That relationship was on her mind most of the night. She explained, “My first date with my ex-husband was on Valentine’s Day.”
Kittie on the other hand, despite once serving in the military, is a mellow person who enjoys going to comic book conventions in her spare time. “I am a dork.” Neither woman has any regrets about her work beyond saying they wish they had gone to college to be able to earn the same money doing something else.
Both women are participating in the documentary, too. I found it interesting that the term used by Saphire and Kittie was documentary when the stories made it seem more like the rules that apply for a reality show. For example, tonight a few of the prostitutes are going to be appearing with the cameras at the Palomino Club, a fully nude bar in North Las Vegas. This in itself is revealing, because the truth is that the most striking thing about life in a brothel is the routine and boredom. The sex workers at the Chicken Ranch are under lock down and unable to leave the property except for one day a week for a little shopping in Pahrump and a mandatory medical exam.
Shortly before I returned to Las Vegas, we went to the kitchen where Saphire made us a salad and dressing. All night she described food. She spent two years in culinary school, but did not quite finish (“I was sick of being in a cooking cult”) and dedicates much of her earnings to paying off student loans. “My sauces take three days,” she said. She then lovingly began to describe her process.
In the kitchen Rose, 48, joined us. I had seen her earlier saying goodbye to a customer in a wheel chair. In our interview, she had told me that she took pride in working with the physically and mentally disabled. She also shared a funny and sad story about a customer with a brain injury who could not remember the sex right afterwards. “I bought him a Chicken Ranch T-shirt so he could remember,” she said.
As we finished eating she turned to me and said: “I told you I would find my Valentine.” She had said that. But I thought she was referring to true love and her private life. I tell her that. “No. Whoever I am with tonight is my Valentine.” That is the job.