The Beltway is a free-for-all

Interstate 215, known around these parts as the Las Vegas Beltway, is without doubt the Tombstone of valley roadways.

Not the 2007 Tombstone with Arizona tourists in black socks, sandals and fanny packs. The Beltway is like Tombstone circa 1881.

Anything goes on the Beltway. No rules. No justice.

Here’s my challenge for those who dare: Enter the Beltway, quickly come up to speed and settle into the “slow” right lane. Go 5 mph over whatever is the posted speed limit. See if you aren’t passed so quickly and so often that you’ll feel like a part of the landscape.

Raw speed is just one exciting element to the Beltway rush. Because the northwestern and northeastern parts of the loop won’t be full-fledged freeways for another six years or so, parts of these stretches are still nothing more than frontage roads. So motorists must periodically come to a red light.

Sitting at a Beltway intersection is like being at the O.K. Corral gunfight.

You wait at the intersection, nervously glancing in the rear-view mirror, hoping that the driver of the big-rig bearing down on you sees that traffic has stopped. When the light changes, cars shoot every which way in an amazing display of death-defying driving aggression.

Traffic signals are mere guidelines. A green light means gud-gawd-gun-it! Yellow means … well, yellow means nothing; and a full-on red light means go faster — five more cars can still make it.

Now, don’t come away with the wrong idea. The Beltway is a wonderful road in concept. It provides suburban dwellers with commuting alternatives to the primary freeways of Interstate 15 and U.S. Highway 95. In fact, speeding up alignment and construction of the Beltway is one of the smarter things we’ve done as a community. Ask Phoenix planners how much they wish they would have built their beltways ahead of development, as Las Vegas is doing.

When it was first proposed, the Review-Journal and I touted it as a worthy project. I’m proud of that. But now I’d like to suggest we do one more thing.

With all due respect to my ACLU and libertarian friends, we need a new traffic sheriff on the Beltway — a modern-day Wyatt Earp, if you will.

We need traffic cameras.

If I were king of Las Vegas, we’d have lots of ’em, and we’d have them tomorrow on the Beltway.

Now, I know the idea of government snapping pictures of citizens as they move about valley roadways is not something that gives people a warm and fuzzy feeling. Many times, the Review-Journal’s editorial page has highlighted the pitfalls of these cameras in other cities. Those concerns, including giving private companies license to shorten yellow-light signals to boost ticket revenue, are real. But the risks can be mitigated.

The public safety benefit of cameras is worth the risk.

In short order, driver habits will change because they will know that their every move will be watched. That means drivers driving the speed limit, making safe lane changes and (can you imagine it?) stopping at red lights. Over the span of only a few years, I believe scores of lives will be saved. Maybe yours or someone you love.

The Beltway is young. Let’s make it safer through camera technology.

I think it would make Las Vegas a better place. If it works, we can roll video enforcement to other roads and intersections. If it doesn’t work, well, we move on and try something else.

Anybody with me, or am I going to have to face the Ike Clanton gangs of the Beltway by myself?

A priceless column

I love it when someone is moved to write about their memories of a bygone Las Vegas. Sandra Martin did just that last week, a part of which is reprinted for your enjoyment below:

“I wanted to thank you for your recent article on Mel and Brady Exber. … In 1991, Brady hired me as the director of sales and marketing at the Las Vegas Club, and we worked together for 13 years. Four years ago, my husband retired as director of security at Binion’s Horseshoe (15 years there, and 23 years on Las Vegas Metro) and we moved to Queen Creek, Ariz., in the southeast corner of Phoenix.

“I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of those 13 years with the Exbers; it was a pleasure working for Mel and Brady. Everyone who knew Mel loved and respected him; he was a very kind gentleman and a humanitarian of the highest caliber. He used to tell the greatest stories. …

“We all were family at the Las Vegas Club — the employees and the customers. So many of them came back time and time again. … They were happy with us, and we loved them. Mel and Brady (and hopefully me included) knew how to take care of customers. That is the beauty of running a smaller, hands-on operation.

“Now I am working for a room wholesaler, so even though we live in Phoenix, I still work 40 hours weekly selling hotel rooms in Las Vegas. Life is good!

“Thanks again for your great articles, I really enjoy them. The July 22 effort was priceless.”

Thanks for the note, Sandra. Mel did, indeed, tell the best stories.

Sherman Frederick is publisher of the Las Vegas Review-Journal and president of Stephens Media. Readers may write him at sfrederick@reviewjournal.com.