Gambling: Midway on the Strip

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The gambler had just doubled his money on a natural seven, but before he could sweep in his chips, a loud drum roll echoed through the garish, tentlike concrete hall. He looked up at the high wire overhead to see one of the Flying Cavarettas flip over three times in the air and land in the arms of her brother. The act distracted him just long enough for the dice shooter to roll a crap three, wiping out the gambler's winnings. He collected his remaining chips, glared at a cavorting clown, shouldered past a lady stilt walker and stalked out of the casino.

The scene took place in Las Vegas' Circus Circus, a new $15 million casino that manages to be gaudy and raucous even by the extravagant standards of the Strip. Inside, aerialists, unicyclists, jugglers, trained dogs and 15 clowns perform their acts right in the gaming room. And if that isn't enough distraction, there is also a carnival-style sideshow with dart games, a coin toss and an electronic shooting gallery for the kiddies. For the grownups, the sideshows are spicier. In one, a nearly nude girl bounces out of a bed and dances a quick Watusi whenever somebody hits a nearby target with a baseball.

Jackpot. Such rowdy Big Top atmosphere is new to Las Vegas, where the winning casino formula has been to pack in the crowds with the lure of big-name entertainers, then leave the customers with nothing else to tempt them but gambling. Jay Sarno, 47, who two years ago opened the garish, pseudo-Roman Caesar's Palace, is trying a new approach. As principal stockholder of Circus Circus, he is counting on the casino's being so different that everybody who visits Las Vegas will have to stop in once out of plain curiosity. And if the carnival atmosphere drives off the high rollers, Sarno could not care less; Circus Circus is unique in charging a $ 1 admission fee, while all the other casinos are free.

In its first month, Sarno's midway attraction seems to be paying off. Circus Circus has drawn an average of 15,000 people a day, including the woman who on opening day broke her leg sliding down a fire pole intended to convey guests from level to level (the pole is no longer in use). Some customers still grump at the amusements. "It's like Disneyland," said a restaurant manager from Covina, Calif. But most are enthusiastic. "It's just like when I was a kid," said Robert Locke, a retired steamfitter from Long Beach, Calif. Said Mrs. Sigmund Schuster, wife of a Cleveland clothier: "For me, it only adds to the excitement of gambling." As she spoke, a nearby slot machine struck up a Sousa march, which is the way the casino's slots announce a jackpot.

High-Stakes Monopoly. Other casino operators are watching closely to see if Circus Circus is a foretaste of what is to come in Las Vegas. Owners are finding that, though gross gambling revenues are still growing (up 14.3% last year), their profits are being cut by what Sarno calls "the spiraling cost of customer attraction." A top entertainer like Frank Sinatra can command $100,000 a week; a production of Fiddler on the Roof costs $70,000 a week.