- Associated Press - Monday, May 30, 2011

LAS VEGAS — Las Vegas Mayor Oscar B. Goodman surveyed the piles of memorabilia spilling from his City Hall office: the bowling ball disguised as an olive, the diamond-studded bottle of gin, the Red Bull minirefrigerator. It all must go, but he can’t bring himself to start packing.

The self-proclaimed happiest mayor in the universe is being pushed, unhappily, out of office.

After three terms and countless Bombay Sapphire martinis, Mr. Goodman must relinquish City Hall in six weeks. Early voting to replace the term-limited mayor started Saturday, and the general election will be held June 7.

Facing off on the ballot to succeed him are his wife of five decades and a county commissioner unlucky enough to have a last name other than Goodman.

No matter the election outcome, the changing of the guard will be the end of an era for Las Vegas and Mr. Goodman, who quickly became one of the most flamboyant elected officials in the land. With a sequin-drenched showgirl on each arm and a bottomless cocktail in one fist, he turned an inconsequential title into one of the most notable posts in Nevada. In the process, he began to transform downtown Las Vegas from a wasteland of decayed buildings and drunken roughnecks into an urban playground of hipster bars and luxury shops.

It wasn’t all olive martinis and sexy women. His administration also oversaw Las Vegas’ fall from tourism glory in the economic collapse of 2008. Nevada tops the nation in foreclosures, unemployment and bankruptcies, and Las Vegas, the largest city in the state, has suffered greatly.

Through it all, Mr. Goodman enjoyed the popularity of the anointed leader he professed to be. He was easily re-elected twice.

“Everything in my life,” the 71-year-old said, “has turned out just perfectly.”

Mr. Goodman gave Las Vegas a leader as colorful and controversial as its own illicit roots. He was a former mob lawyer monitored by the FBI when he was sworn in, and as mayor he continued to wear the dark pinstripe suits associated with the alleged killers he once defended. Mr. Goodman boasted that he drank a bottle of gin a day and insisted on being photographed with a martini glass as often as possible. He threatened to cut off the thumbs of graffiti vandals and touted the economic benefits of legalized prostitution.

At the opening of a photo gallery last month featuring highlights from his administration, Mr. Goodman stopped in front of a photograph that showed him red-faced at a party celebrating a new Las Vegas airline.

“I have no idea how inebriated I was there,” he told reporters. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself or the city.”

His outlandish comments and habits would have made him unelectable anywhere else, but in Las Vegas, he reigned.

Constituents ask for his autograph, and tourists snap his picture when he strolls bustling Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas. At a Miss America event on the Las Vegas Strip earlier this year, Mr. Goodman was running late and a valet supervisor was asked if he could spot the mayor in the crowd to announce his arrival. “Everyone,” came the icy reply, “knows Oscar Goodman.”

Mr. Goodman describes his showmanship as an act of rebellion after years of protecting the secrets of reputed mobsters.

“I had to live a very cloistered life,” he said of his years as a mob defender. “When I became the mayor, it was as if I was freed.”

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