ASK A NATIVE
CONVERSATIONS
By James P. Reza
Should we allow the Blue Diamond Hill gypsum mine to be redeveloped into a housing tract?
Like Mother, Like Daughter Singer-songwriter Molly Bergman forges a path in music By Genevie Durano
Photography Chris Ameruoso
Like most girls her age, 14-year-old Molly
Bergman has a strong opinion on the trajectory of Taylor Swift’s career. “I liked the old Taylor Swift. Her first album is more singer-songwriterly,” she declares. But Bergman, unlike most other 14-yearold girls, knows of what she speaks. An aspiring singer-songwriter herself, she’s been performing since she was 11, appearing in charity events and opening for her mother, comedian Rita Rudner. Her first EP, California Girl, was recently released— and she does song covers and posts them on her website (mollybergmanmusic.com). If you’ve ever seen a performance by Rudner, whose comedy career has spanned more than three decades, you’ll know that her source material draws on the foibles of marriage and the seemingly unbreachable planetary distance between the genders. But sitting with her at a Starbucks in Chinatown one afternoon with her talented progeny, it is clear that Rudner, for all her enjoyment of being a funnywoman, relishes the role of mom even more. She and Bergman have a playful rapport, with Mom’s sense of humor a wellspring of teasing and affection. For example, when asked what her songwriting process is like, Bergman replies, all businesslike, “Well, I do lyrics first. It’s mainly based on what it’s like being [a] 14-year-old. It’s about what’s going on in my life. Or, if I see my friends having a problem, I write about anything that’s happening, and then I work on the tunes.”
Proceeds from Bergman’s California Girl EP ($7 on iTunes and Spotify) benefit the Marty Hennessy Inspiring Children Foundation, a local mentoring, education and tennis organization.
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“But mostly, she says ‘I want,’” Rudner interjects. “A lot of sentences begin with ‘I want.’ So when she says, ‘I want to have a sleepover this weekend,’ I say, ‘If you want to have a sleepover this weekend, finish the song you’re working on, and you can have a sleepover.’ And she does that and she finishes the song. She’s never written a bad tune.” “There’s always [room for] improvement,” Bergman says modestly. “You say, ‘This is a little too repetitious,’ or ‘This could be in a higher key.’ You never stop working through something. But I write jokes through desperation and [the] fear that I’m never going to do it again, and she writes because of threats,” Rudner says, laughing. “But nothing comes if you’re happy and you’re doing well, so I try to make her as unhappy as possible. Because creativity comes through pain.” “Mommmm!” Bergman says, in the voice of mortified teenagers since the beginning of time. But in all seriousness, Bergman’s preternatural poise is most likely a result of being in the entertainment world all her life. She is also a gifted tennis player, beginning lessons at age 3—“She had a lot of energy and I had to get her out of the house,” Rudner deadpans. Bergman readily admits that she still gets nervous before she performs, but once onstage, she loves it. She sees herself having a solo career, though she doesn’t necessarily rule out being in a band. “I sing with my friend now, and it’s really fun singing with someone else,” she says. “As long as she enjoys it, I want her to keep doing it,” Rudner says. “[If] you find a passion and something you love to do, you’re set.” Mom would know. And with this kind of guidance, Bergman’s future is as bright as that California sun. 7
Almost from the moment developer Jim Rhodes purchased the 2,000-acre mine in 2003, this has been a charged issue. Located adjacent to Red Rock Canyon, the 92-year-old active mine is one of the largest in the country. It was born of a mining claim once held by Peter Buol, the first mayor of Las Vegas, when the site was an hour's haul from any concentrated population. In fact, Blue Diamond Road was only a two-laner from Interstate 15 to the Red Rock turnoff until the fairly recent development of Mountain's Edge, whose homes stretch almost all the way to the mine. Couple that with Summerlin homes abutting Red Rock Canyon's northern side along Charleston Boulevard, and it's understandable why conservationists and outdoor enthusiasts are jittery. Red Rock Canyon in general, as well as its 195,819-acre National Conservation Area, have long served as a pressure-relief valve for Las Vegas residents, combining nature with the living memory of what the west once was. Working ranches, the Spring Mountain Ranch State Park, shooting ranges, campsites, hiking and horseback riding trails, the fringy residential villages of Calico Basin and Blue Diamond—all make up the character of Red Rock Canyon, one that helps balance the glitz of the Strip. But Red Rock is a pastiche of public and private land, and therein lies the rub. Commercial and residential development already exist, so halting additional growth will always be a challenge. However, keeping zoning intact should not be a challenge. Current mine zoning permits the development of one residence per 0.75-acre, or roughly 1,200 homes; Rhodes has requested a zoning change that would permit 2.5 homes per acre, equaling 5,025 homes. Homeowners and concerned citizens should always carefully consider nonconforming zoning requests—slippery slope and all that. Given the choice between 1,200 zone-conforming homes versus an abandoned mine? I lean toward the homes. But 5,000 homes? That would turn Red Rock into a de facto urban park, and while there are urban nature-park success stories, 14,000 residents staring down from Blue Diamond Hill seems counterintuitive to the historic use and character of Red Rock Canyon. Perhaps ideally, the mine would be swapped with a less controversial parcel, creating a buffer as Summerlin did at the north end. Either way, if (as some say) this is a case of The Man vs. The People, we must acknowledge that the cost of the mine's environmental remediation will be enormous, no matter who pays it. Depending on our unpredictable economy and the outcome of various legal challenges from both sides, it's possible the land will never be developed, instead continuing on as a gypsum mine. Note: Gypsum makes drywall, and drywall builds houses. Ironic, isn't it? Have a question or comment about Las Vegas past, present or future? Send them to askanative@vegasseven.com