At the Neon Museum in Las Vegas, many exhibits show signs of wear: The desert sun has bleached them, rusty edges peek out, light bulbs have burst, and paint is peeling off. But it is precisely this worn look that adds charm to the museum in an otherwise perfectly polished casino metropolis. Located at the northern end of the Las Vegas Boulevard, this open-air museum serves as a ‘red carpet’ for retired neon signs from casinos, hotels, wedding chapels, and restaurants.
Set amidst the sand, there’s a collection of historic neon signs that once sparkled on the Strip and later gathered dust in scrap yards and old warehouses. At the Neon Museum, they’ve found their final resting place – and visitors discover a piece of the glittering city’s history.
“Of course, they’re works of art,” enthuses young museum guide Sean Caudill during his hour-long tour. It’s evening, and the old neon signs begin to blink. The ten-meter-wide and oversized “STARDUST” sign glows alternately in red, blue, and green. The letters of the famous casino no longer twinkle on their own. Spotlights cast the exhibits in the right light.
Of the museum’s approximately 150 neon signs, only a few have been restored through expensive handiwork. One of them is a giant arrow with glittering neon letters reading “Wedding Information.” Las Vegas is a paradise for quick weddings. The 1960s logo of the old “La Concha” motel also shines with its own light.
The over 50-year-old hotel lobby of the “La Concha” motel, saved from demolition in 2005, now serves as the museum’s visitor center. Its striking design, with three curvy shell arches as a roof, is the perfect starting point for a journey into the glittering history of Las Vegas, featuring names of stars like Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra, or cult entertainment venues like “Moulin Rouge,” “Sahara,” and “Treasure Island.”
All the exhibits under the open sky have a storied past. The oldest – a sign from the 1930s – advertises cocktails, steak, and chicken. It is a relic of a restaurant famous during Prohibition for its home-brewed whiskey and crispy chicken.
Visitors stroll past a house-high teapot from the old Aladdin Casino. A few steps further, a three-meter-tall giant from the collection of neon letters stands out. The “Pool Player,” made of steel with a huge cue in hand, once advertised a pool hall.
In a city where everything must be new, bigger, and more spectacular, the retired neon relics owe their survival to a few enthusiastic collectors and art lovers. In 1996, they formed an association that funded the rescue of old advertising signs with donations. In the museum, the era of neon signs continues to live on.
