Ode to CVI

At the end of May, I had the pleasure of meeting the owner of Carson Valley Inn. Jeane Mulreany is a petite, soft-spoken woman with auburn hair and tender eyes. She emanates the warmth of a wise mother, and evokes the same feeling when talking about Carson Valley Inn, the Minden hotel and casino she's owned and operated with her husband Patrick for 25 years, since it was built in 1984.

"Gaming has changed a lot over the last 25 years," she told me. "Nowadays, in this business, few small casinos are making it. Everything lined up for this to happen. We had to strike while the iron was hot."

If the heated iron was the casino's sterling reputation, the action of striking was the selling of that reputation before the down market dulled its appeal.

"The best small-town casino in Northern Nevada," proclaimed Mike Pegram, one of three new owners, who, if proper licensing is attained, will take over CVI by the end of the year.

Another owner hails from Reno - the prominent Carano family, which owns the Eldorado, Silver Legacy and Tamarack Junction.

"It's one family taking over for another family," said Greg Carano. "We're excited about becoming a member of the community. CVI has great employees and is known for its family environment."

The Carano family, Pegram and Carson City native Rick Murdock opened Bodines Casino in South Carson last year.

"We're coming in with what we understand as the tradition of the Carson Valley Inn," Pegram said. "The Mulreanys have left us a great tradition and great employees. We'll still go in and evaluate what we need to do, but we hope to continue the same tradition."

In a previous article, I referred to CVI as a pillar of the community. In a literal sense, it's more like a bulwark than a pillar, a long dense bulwark made of river rock and dark wood. A highway fortress that beckons both businessmen and bikers. An economic stronghold that employs more than 400 people.

When I first heard news of the sale, I felt more sadness than shock. Although talking to the new owners reassured me, I was still haunted by that specter of the unknown, that fear of change, which, in this time of economic upheaval and erratic market forces, precipitates instant nostalgia.

For the two years I've worked for The Record-Courier, one man has been the face of CVI - Bill Henderson, director of sales and marketing. I've had long conversations with him on more than one occasion, but the afternoon I met Mulreany, he was reluctant to discuss his future with the new owners. He did offer this kernel:

"New people mean new ideas. You got to be optimistic about these things," he said.

Still, as I saw in Mulreany's face, in her pinched tears, passing the torch can be a difficult thing. Before the future reshapes us, I would like to spend a few inches extolling CVI as I've known it:

Memories of middle-school kids charging up the carpeted staircases. Hands whistling along the sleek brass rails. Hours of illicit elevator tag while hotel guests looked on. Then the lurid subterranean lair of the arcade.

In high school, it was long and restless nights in Katie's. Post-game rendezvous at the clustered tables. I can still taste the salted hash browns, the runny eggs, the squishy sausage of the graveyard special. In the mirrored walls above us, we'd find our own entwined images. Faces of adolescence, of first love and fresh fear. All the bright and strange vicissitudes of youth held there in the glass for a fleeting moment.

Now, as an adult, I associate CVI more with banquet rooms and seminars. The professional bustle of business conventions. I still find the same hospitality and sense of belonging I knew as a kid, and I can only hope that the new owners will honor this tradition.

As for Mulreany, she is counting down the days until she says good-bye to the hundreds of employees she considers family.

"I remember a Peanuts cartoon by Charles Schulz," she said. "That life is like ice cream - you have to take each day a lick at a time. Each day can be sweet, so you have to savor it."