LAS VEGAS — In the 1971 film “Diamonds are Forever,” James Bond stays in a swanky suite at the Tropicana Las Vegas.
“I hear that the Hotel Tropicana is quite comfortable,” Agent 007 says.
It was the Tropicana’s heyday, a frequent haunt of the legendary Rat Pack, while its past under the mob cemented its place in Vegas lore.
But after welcoming guests for 67 years, the Las Vegas Strip’s third-oldest casino shut its doors for good on Tuesday. Employees crowded the main entrance, cheering and crying, while tourists and locals watched the historic moment from behind a yellow gate. A tissue box made its way through the crowd.
Then, just before 1 p.m., security guards began locking up the Tropicana. The thick chains clinked as they were wrapped around the casino’s gold door handles.
Demolition is slated for October to make room for a $1.5 billion Major League Baseball stadium — part of the city’s latest rebrand as a hub for sports entertainment.
Charlie Granado, a bartender at the Tropicana, said it’s a bittersweet ending for the place he has called a second home for 38 years.
“It’s time. It’s ran its course,” Granado said. “It makes me sad. But on the other hand, it’s a happy ending.”
The population of Clark County had just surpassed 100,000 when the Tropicana opened on a Strip surrounded by vast, open desert. It cost $15 million to build three stories with 300 rooms split into two wings.
Its manicured lawns and flashy showroom earned it the nickname “Tiffany of the Strip.” There was a towering tulip-shaped fountain near the entrance, mosaic tiles and mahogany-paneled walls throughout.
Black and white photographs from that time give a view into what it was like inside the walls of the Tropicana at its height, playing host to A-list stars — from Elizabeth Taylor and Debbie Reynolds to Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. Mel Tormé and Eddie Fisher performed at the Tropicana.
Decades later, New Jersey resident Joe Zappulla was among the final hotel guests to check out at the Tropicana before the locks went on the doors. He spent $600 for a room and fulfilled a Vegas fantasy: lying on top of a craps table on a casino floor.
“When else can I do this in Vegas?” he said.
Zappulla grew up hearing glamorous tales from his parents, who honeymooned in Las Vegas in 1961 and visited often, about their run-ins with the Rat Pack during the Tropicana’s heyday. It’s a version of Sin City that his parents loved.
“Old Vegas, it’s going,” Zappulla said with tears sliding down his cheeks. “So I’m really clinging to a little piece of that.”