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POSTED: 06 JUNE 2010
Liberace ... the very heart and soul of Vegas
Las Vegas is fun, fake and fantastical and don’t let anybody turn you off going. Of course it’s crass and phony, but that’s the whole point. Once you’ve watched the dancing fountains at Bellagio, sailed down a canal in a gondola at the Venetian, ridden the big dipper on top of the New York building and stumbled through the flashing machines in the casinos (and even found time for some gambling) you might think you’ve done Vegas.
But you’re not a real Vegas aficionado until you peer at your watch through the haze of 24/7 excitement and say: “Hey, it’s three in the morning, let’s do lunch.”
One of our favourite Vegas attractions is The Liberace Museum. It’s tucked way from the strip, and we were the only people there on our visit. And we liked that very much.
Liberace’s opulent cars, astounding jewellery and gorgeously garish garments are fascinating. The museum is in two buildings, the first just to house his cars alone: a red-white-and-blue Rolls-Royce convertible, and its big brother Rolls covered entirely with tiny mirrored tiles.
In the second building, once past the rhinestone-encrusted grand piano with its gold candelabra, and into the jewellery section, it becomes more jaw-dropping.
Volunteers will take you around the museum and enhance the experience with their vast Liberace knowledge, so don’t turn their services down.
It helps to be a “mature” person to appreciate Liberace. I fondly remember his wonderful affectation during his colourful Australian tours in the 70s. We didn’t know then he was gay. We were so naïve we thought he was simply a talented piano player who liked mink-lined capes and touring with effeminate men.
Now, it was a huge giggle to look at his outrageous trinkets.
Our guide, a “woman of a certain age” with an over-rouged face and lurid green eye shadow — Liberace would have approved — knew her Liberace. She was familiar with every detail of each diamond, diamante and rhinestone.
“Your Australian Government gave Liberace three rings to commemorate his tours,” she told us after telling she was charmed by our accents. She pointed to two of the rings. “One was this 18-carat yellow gold with an opal the size of an egg and 28 diamonds. This other one has a fire opal set in 18-carat white gold with 321 diamonds.”
We were shocked. Our Government giving spectacular jewellery to gay entertainers just for touring our country? But there was no time to contemplate such excessiveness as our guide steered us to other extravagances, gifts from other governments and British royalty — a standout being an extravagant ring from The Queen after they had a falling out.
“Her Majesty was cross with Liberace for referring to himself as royalty,” our guide told us. “She told him he was not royalty and he threw a tantrum. They didn’t speak for a while but then she had a ring made for him in royal purple, with diamonds and priceless stones. He loved it and they made up. All of his rings were gifts except, one which he bought himself.’’
The son of poor immigrants, and born Wladziu Valentino, Liberace died of Aids in 1987. He was the Mr Glitter of 1950s television and a Vegas institution. He used to joke about wearing his brother George’s hand-me-downs. “Now George wears my lining,” he said with that famous cheesy grin. He was also famous for some other great sayings such as: “Why don’t I slip out and get into something more spectacular.” And his most famous, after copping some criticism: “I cried all the way to the bank.”
Our guide stayed with us for the full circuit of the museum, offering some fascinating insights. “The Queen Mother loved Liberace,” she said. “They remained friends until he died. See these buttons?” She pointed to a garish jacket. “They’re diamonds and each one spells out Liberace, he wore three down one side, three down the other and two on his butt.”
The lavish stage costumes stopped all conversation for a moment. But our guide had seen them every day for the past couple of decades and even though we stood still and awed in front of such excessiveness, she continued talking.
“This costume has 650,000 rhinestones and chinchilla on it. This one has mink around the cuffs and edges. This one was sewn with 22-carat gold thread. This one has several billion seed pearls hand sewn into the collar. This one is made of monkey fur.”
Monkey fur? We didn’t want to dwell on that.
Instead we talked about Liberace’s talent. He really could play well, and with his flamboyant presentation brought classical music to people who would normally never have attended a classical concert. But he liked a bit of honky-tonk, too.
Now, his legend continues through this museum, the main funding arm for the Liberace Foundation for the Performing and Creative Arts. And it will continue through a movie now being made, starring Michael Douglas as Liberace with Matt Damon as his lover.
The final museum display, gold rimmed dinner plates housed in a gilded cabinet, perhaps had the best story. “After taking afternoon tea with the Queen, he lusted after her dinner set,” our guide said. “The Queen told him it was a one-off set, made for royalty and he could not have it. But he pestered her so much she finally gave in and told him the maker’s name, a master European china maker. Liberace instructed the man to make him a similar set and then break the mould. He used his gold-rimmed dinner set every day and never once broke a piece. How about that?”
Yes, how about that? It summed up Las Vegas for me in a way that even Elvis couldn’t compete with.