Western Wanderings - Las Vegas Springs Preserve - Brief Article

Sunset, Jan, 2000 by Peter Fish

Water and roots

* To get to the springs, you drive north from the Strip on U.S. 95 a mile or two. Then, across from a large shopping center, you find an unexpected plot of open land and a dirt road ambling toward creosote trees. At the old spring house, you can peer through broken rafters to a bed of white sand, from which a cottonwood tree emerges bearing green leaves.

"There it is," J.C. Davis says. "Here is where it all began."

"It" is the city of Las Vegas: the citadel of the sequined showgirl, the va-va-vavroom hotel, the red-tile-roofed housing developments sprawling halfway to Phoenix. "Here" is the portion of the Las Vegas Valley Water District's North Well Field known as Las Vegas Springs Preserve. And, yes, all of it came from here.

"We're in the Mojave Desert," says Kim Zukosky. Like Davis, she works for the water district; she has been managing the springs project for the last three years. "The driest desert in America. When you have a place like this, people flock to it."

People flocking to water is the essential story of the springs. A patch of green surrounded by hundreds of miles of aridity, the springs have drawn human visitors for at least 6,000 years, says preserve archaeologist Greg Seymour. Early users included the Patayan and Anasazi peoples and the Southern Paiute. In the early 1800s, the springs were a vital stop on the Old Spanish Trail from Los Angeles to New Mexico. They were called las vegas, or the meadows, for the greenery they nurtured.

At that time the greenery was mostly mesquite and creosote. What you notice now are cottonwoods, descendants of trees planted by Latter-day Saints, who established a mission here in 1855. The Mormons were Las Vegas's first permanent white settlers--meaning, among other things, that the tie between Brigham Young and the Siegfried & Roy show is stronger than one might expect. In 1900 came the San Pedro, Los Angeles & Salt Lake Railroad: Steam locomotives required water to refill. A railroad town grew up, and everything else followed.

We walk around. The springs are not what they used to be--one Mormon missionary described artesian wells so powerful a person could not sink in them "on account of the strong upward rush of the water." Now, after decades during which Las Vegas has tapped into them (hence the presence of spring houses and filtration plants), the springs are kept underground by a lowered water table. Even so, they nurture what remains a remarkably soothing oasis in the middle of the city.

All of which is fine, you think. You might also wonder if anyone cares. After all, Las Vegas is a city predicated on the superiority of the future: the next roll of the dice, the next megahotel. It's not that Las Vegas doesn't appreciate history, exactly. It will take any history it can get to inspire a showgirl outfit or a theme casino. Currently you can stroll a few blocks down the Strip and time-travel from the 18th-century opulence of Bellagio to the Venice of the grand doge to a reasonable facsimile of belle epoque Paris, but with dollar slots.

Its own past, though--Las Vegas has never shown much interest in that, fearing it would generate little profit. It's hard to imagine a casino with a Mormon pioneer theme. And the pretty cottonwoods of the springs are no match for the potted exotics at Bellagio.

And yet, here is something strange. Whenever the springs have been endangered, there has been public outcry. In the 1980s they were threatened by a flood-control project, more recently by proposed widening of U.S. 95. Both times Las Vegans rose up. Some objections came from old-timers. A surprising amount came from new residents, the people in the red-tile-roofed homes. "A lot of people have come to Las Vegas to live now," J.C. Davis says. "But they have no sense of belonging. They want to feel they live in a community."

Now the springs are becoming Las Vegas Springs Preserve. With the aid of the water district, which owns the land, and the private Las Vegas Springs Preserve Foundation, 180 acres will be dedicated to nature walks, displays, and a botanical garden. The preserve is set to open in 2005, the centennial of Las Vegas's incorporation as a city.

We come back to the old spring house. Rising up from the sand is a cool, wet breeze that feels good on the hot morning. The cottonwood leaves gleam. "People think Las Vegas doesn't have roots," Davis says. "It has very deep roots." As it has turned out, Las Vegas wants to make certain those roots remain.