Reno isn’t Vegas

Flying into the Truckee Meadows, over scorched earth and then rounded mountains, one gets a good view of Reno. Gridded subdivisions sprawl to the outskirts. Fields and trees splotch the valley’s interior. And its core is comprised of aged hotel-casinos, reminiscent of Fremont Street pre-canopy.

Comparing Las Vegas to other cities typically proves futile. Its citizens are unique. Its economy is an anomaly. And its politics are inherent, freakish and distinctly native. While it shares traits with Phoenix, Los Angeles and other non-Nevada Sunbelt cities, analogies inevitably collapse like the lung of a chain-smoking video-poker fiend.

Reno, while certainly unique, remains our least-complicated comparison.

A recent trip to the Biggest Little City in the World allowed me to observe it, explore it and casually analyze it. I was surprised by what I discovered.

As one would expect, Las Vegas and Reno have much in common. Both lay in valleys, are somewhat limited by the surrounding mountains and are mildly scenic. Both, of course, rely heavily on gambling and tourism. And both feature universities that are integral to the community, though neither can be characterized as a college town.

Surprisingly, the similarities don’t stretch much further. In fact, judging from my virgin visit, the cities are remarkably different.

While Las Vegas ranks as one of the more architecturally depressing cities in the Southwest—with its cookie-cutter condos, stale strip malls and intrusive locals casinos—Reno features some flavor. Brick houses border narrow streets. Charming wooden duplexes are sprinkled throughout the downtown district (as, of course, are boarded-up homes and forlorn motels). It even has a Walgreens, hovering above an interstate and bridled with supports, that slightly resembles an art museum.

Reno also seems to offer more culturally than Las Vegas. Since opening May 23, the Nevada Museum of Art has hosted more than 70,000 visitors. And the city boasts a reasonable amount of coffeehouses, art galleries and live music venues, which people actually go to on occasion.

Finally, Reno has made progress in its downtown revitalizing efforts, whereas Las Vegas wallows. The Truckee River rolls through the district, past apartment complexes, after-hours cafés and parks. Walking paths skirt the river. In short, it feels something like a real major-metro downtown.

Many Las Vegas citizens, including politicians, hold Reno in low regard. They characterize it as behind-the-times, simple and inferior—a glorified cow town. My visit revealed otherwise.

Instead of looking down on Reno, perhaps we should occasionally look toward it for guidance.