Everything's Up to Date In Lida Junction

Nevadans have always clung to mildly iconoclastic notions about what is and what isn't a vice. Gambling is legal in Nevada; everybody knows that. Less well known is the fact that prostitution is also tolerated in 15 out of the state's 17 counties.* In such communities as Elko, Esmeralda and Nye, the brothel is practically an institution, like the corner drugstore and the county courthouse. Overall, one involved Nevadan opines, there are 30 to 40 brothels, with seven to ten girls apiece, in the 15 permissive counties. The opulence (or lack of it) of these industries, and the beauty and skill of the inhabitants, are grounds for civic pride (or concern). One year, the town fathers of Wells noted that visitors seemed to be having trouble locating the red-light district, so they helpfully installed directional signs. When reactionary residents of one town kicked up a fuss because a house of ill repute was operating next door to the local school, the town newspaper editorialized: "Don't move the house. Move the school." The school was moved.

The bordello business currently seems to be booming. According to the Los Angeles Times, "prostitution is one of the biggest industries in rural Nevada." State officials are appropriately heavy-lidded as long as appropriate taxes are paid. "I can't tell you anything about prostitution in Nevada," Attorney General Harvey Dickerson told Reporter Charles Hillinger. "I personally don't interfere with it where it exists." One of the "wheres" is Lida Junction on Highway 95, about midway between Reno and Las Vegas. Lida Junction cannot be found on most road maps; it consists of an airstrip and a house trailer with a sign reading "Cottontail Ranch." It is, in fact, a community with only one visible means of support.

"Hi, fellas, how about a drink?" beams the trailer's "landlady," Beverly Richards, as a group of strangers walk in. While she pours the liquor, four scantily clad girls appear. "Make a selection, fellas," booms Beverly. Cottontail Ranch is simply one of the newer twists in the oldest profession: a fly-in brothel.

The "ranch" even has air service. Owned by Rick Blakemore, an unpaid deputy sheriff of Nye County, Mustang Air Service operates two Cessna 206s on the run between Las Vegas and Tonopah, making seven stops en route at bordellos like Cottontail Ranch. In addition to transporting Johns named Smith, "I fly the girls to and from the houses and take the doctor and the county health officer on regular Saturday inspection tours," says Blakemore. He performs other official functions, like fingerprinting the prostitutes in each brothel for the sheriff's office files. "This is a dirty, rotten business," he cheerfully admits. "There is no moral way to justify it. We're not trying to sell it. We're just trying to keep it under control."

The price of a sojourn at Cottontail Ranch averages $20. The four prostitutes range in age from 22 to 24, are on call twelve hours a day, and split their earnings with Landlady Richards. "When business is slow," says one girl, "we read a lot. Sometimes we play Scrabble. Every day Beverly leads us in calisthenics." But business is rarely slow, according to federal tax agents, who monitor the books. "It's a real challenge for our agents," says J. C. Muyres, Internal Revenue Service official in Las Vegas. "The houses are cash operations with no set prices. I don't know of any that accept credit cards."

* Exceptions: Washoe County, which includes Reno, and Clark County, site of Las Vegas.

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