Considered by many Nevadans to be the most powerful man in the state, Wynn gets roadways rerouted, public transportation projects scuttled and public land deeded over to his company. But he wields his influence not only to expand his company beyond Las Vegas, where it owns four casinos plus a half interest in a fifth, but also to advance the public's acceptance of casinos
as he builds palaces so lush that they become must-see stops on America's
road map.
"There is a change taking place," Wynn said in a recent interview,
whispering intimately for effect. His new casinos will be "more elegant,
more lovely, more complete and fetching than anything done before."
"And it has nothing to do with gambling," he said.
In the past, of course, when a state rejected a Mirage casino but he was
urged to build a hotel and entertainment complex anyway, Wynn refused. The
gambling, he conceded, will "certainly help us pay for it all."
A Big Contributor to Political Races to help realize his ambitions, Wynn has made Mirage one of the largest contributors among casino companies to federal candidates and the Democratic and Republican Parties, even though competitors like Harrah's and Hilton own more casinos in more states. In the two years leading into the last election, Mirage gave $464,596, at that level, and it says it contributed $650,000 more to local and state candidates.
In Mississippi, where its $650 million Beau Rivage in Biloxi will employ
4,000 workers, Mirage is already one of the largest contributors to local
races. In Biloxi's mayoral race in 1997, campaign finance records show that
Mirage was the largest single contributor to the successful re-election
campaign of Mayor A.J. Holloway.
In addition to his deep pockets, Wynn uses his opulent properties to woo
politicians. A 1995 fund-raiser at Shadow Creek, Mirage's ultra-exclusive
Las Vegas golf resort where caviar is served on the fairway, raised $500,000
for the presidential campaign of Bob Dole. The casino operator hedged his
bets, attending a $25,000-a-plate fund-raiser for President Clinton and
contributing to the Democratic National Committee.
What sets Wynn apart is his polling operation, which enables him to
influence elections and gain the favor of politicians who decide everything
from new roads that lead to Mirage casinos to taxes paid by the entire
industry.
Under the guidance of Punam Mathur, Mirage's director of government and
community relations, polls are taken on everything from local school board
races to gambling initiatives in states where the company might want to do
business.
The telephone operation also conducts marketing and corporate surveys. In
southern Mississippi, for example, where the labor force is very tight,
Mirage conducted telephone surveys of residents to learn what job benefits
would make its casino attractive to potential employees.
The company shares its polling data with preferred candidates.
"It's nice to be able to call a candidate and say, 'Whatever you're doing,
keep it up,' or 'You better start working because your opponent is beating
you,"' Ms. Mathur said.
From Voter Drives to Voter Guides Wynn also conducts voter registration drives for his 26,000 employees and their families in Nevada, where Mirage has its corporate headquarters.
He and his staff personally meet with as many as 350 candidates in an
election year before deciding whom Mirage will support. Then, before
Election Day, he issues his employees a voter guide with stars next to the
names of candidates who have received his "seal of approval."
The Mirage telephone operation pays dividends in many ways. For example,
when Yvonne Atkinson Gates, chairwoman of the Clark County Board of
Supervisors in Nevada, wants to hold a community meeting, she calls the
Mirage telephone room to have it place calls to residents.
"They record a telephone message with my voice on it and do the dialing for
me," said Ms. Gates, who, as head of the county board that must approve
casino development along the Las Vegas strip, is a vital link to Wynn's
continued success.
To the envy of many other casino owners, Wynn has gotten what he wants from the county board, as well as from other local entities. To expand his Golden Nugget casino, he persuaded city officials to deed him a downtown street. In developing the Bellagio, he struck a deal with the county board of
supervisors that enabled Mirage to build a nine-acre lake with 1,100
fountains in front of the hotel, despite a local ordinance barring new
artificial lakes in the desert city.
"We went to the county fathers with a business proposition that would be
hard for them to refuse," Wynn recalled with amusement. He offered to trade
water rights attached to his property in exchange for an ordinance allowing
his lake. The ordinance, however, allowed new lakes in terms so specific
that only the Bellagio could benefit from it.
"It was referred to as the Mirage ordinance," Wynn said, laughing. "For
obvious reasons, it can't be duplicated." And, he noted, "It passed without
opposition."
Along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, with its strange brew of magnolia trees,
antebellum mansions and high-wattage casino lights, Wynn's Beau Rivage is
quickly becoming a force in local politics. "These Beau Rivage people, they
want to control everything," said one Biloxi city official, who spoke on the
condition of anonymity. One of Mirage's first moves in Biloxi was to hire
the same law firm that represents the city on casino matters.
Not only has Mirage built one of the most expensive and dramatic buildings
the region has ever seen, but by contributing campaign money and lobbying
local politicians, the company has been able to include unique features that
distinguish its casino from the dozen others here.
For example, Mirage officials vigorously lobbied the state Legislature to
enact a law allowing restaurants to feature micro-breweries. As a result,
the Beau Rivage will have Mississippi's first micro-brewery. To get clear
and free title to the huge waterfront parcel needed to build the casino
hotel, Wynn spent $1.9 million to buy 4,225 acres of coastal wildlife
habitat throughout Mississippi and swapped it for a critical 6.8 acres that
were owned by the state.
One powerful Mississippi resident whom Wynn has made a special effort to
court is Republican Sen. Trent Lott. The Mirage contributed $10,000 this
year to Lott's political action committee, according to an analysis of
political contributions, and last year Lott, the majority leader, flew to
Las Vegas on Wynn's corporate jet to attend fund-raising events sponsored by the gambling industry.
In Washington, where until a few years ago the industry had only a scattered
presence, Wynn was instrumental in forming the American Gaming Association,
which pays $800,000 a year to Frank Fahrenkopf Jr., a former Republican
National Committee chairman, to lead the industry's lobbying efforts.
"I think Steve is doing what he does best," said John Smith, author of
"Running Scared," an unauthorized biography against which Wynn has a
defamation lawsuit pending. "He has been most effective at making the
gambling industry a legitimate industry that does things like lobbying and
contributing to candidates."
Weeks before Wynn graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 1963, his father, a gambler and Maryland bingo parlor operator, died of heart disease at age 46, leaving the family with huge debts from his gambling losses.
Stepping in to take over the bingo parlor, the young Wynn was on his way to
helping build the country's fledgling casino industry.
He soon moved to Las Vegas, invested in the mob-tainted Frontier casino, ran a liquor distributing company and entered into a real estate investment
involving Howard Hughes that netted Wynn more than half a million dollars in
less than a year.
Charming Wall Street as he now does politicians, Wynn first took control of
the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas, and then with the aid of Michael Milken, the
junk bond financier, he built the Golden Nugget in Atlantic City in 1980 for
$140 million. He hated New Jersey's heavy regulation of casinos, though, and
sold the casino in 1987 for $440 million, vowing never to return to the
state.
As Wynn refined his ability to negotiate with politicians, he reversed that
position. After the industry successfully lobbied New Jersey officials to
relax casino regulations, Wynn then persuaded them to provide $220 million
in public money -- in addition to $110 million of Mirage's -- for a roadway
and tunnel that will lead to Le Jardin, a $1 billion casino development
planned by Mirage. Last month, the state broke ground on the roadway.
Assisting Both Sides in a U.S. Senate Race
ew Jersey law prohibits casinos from contributing to local politicians. So
in 1996, while Wynn was trying to win acceptance of the roadway and tunnel,
which was causing an uproar among other casino operators as well as among
residents who would be displaced by the project, he pumped $31,000 into the state's U.S. Senate race, according to an analysis of the company's
contributions. He gave $17,000 to the eventual winner, Robert Torricelli, a
Democrat, and $14,000 to his Republican opponent, Richard Zimmer.
Meanwhile, he dined at the governor's mansion with Christie Whitman, and
directed his largess at community leaders in Atlantic City. To build
support, he flew a group of public housing officials and tenant association
leaders to Las Vegas for a tour of Mirage properties, all accommodations
paid.
Not only did Wynn persuade local officials to build the roadway and tunnel,
but the city also gave him the 170-acre site for his project, in the marina
district north of the boardwalk, and the New Jersey Legislature passed a
bill to repay him up to 75 percent of the money he spends to clean up the
site, part of which had been a landfill.
"The guy is very smart," said Alan Marcus, a spokesman for Donald Trump's
casinos, which adamantly opposed Wynn's Atlantic City plans. "He's so smart
he took their pants off. He got everything he wanted."
To be sure, Wynn has not pulled it all off alone. He is widely credited for
surrounding himself with talented people, and his reputation for treating
his employees well is legendary. He once surprised his 400 managers and
executives in Atlantic City with new cars. Last year, Fortune magazine named
Mirage as one of America's "most admired" companies, second only to
Coca-Cola.
Yet those who have worked closely with Wynn know there is a mercurial side. His temper, people who know him say, can erupt as fiercely as the volcano in front of his flagship casino, the Mirage. During one telephone call, Miller, the former Las Vegas City Council member, recalled, Wynn was "breathing hard and calling me names."
During his negotiations with New Jersey officials, Wynn once called Whitman
and complained that he was unhappy with the terms she had announced for the roadway and casino project. Angered by her refusal to change the terms, Wynn delivered a biting last shot over the governor's speaker phone, says one of the people who were listening. "This is Steve Wynn," he said. "I don't
accept this deal. Good night, ladies and gentleman." And he hung up.
Under Wynn, Mirage has grown into a $1.5 billion-a-year company, its stock
rising an average of 28 percent a year since he took over the company 25
years ago. Wynn controls more than 15 percent of the stock, and his wife and
brother also own substantial shares. Wynn and his wife, Elaine, first
married in 1963, had two children, then divorced, then married each other
again.
Celebrity Friends; Celebrity Treatment. Wynn, 56, pals around with celebrities like Michael Jordan, Kenny Rogers and Quincy Jones. And he is often treated with more reverence than any casino operator could expect. Last month's groundbreaking for the Atlantic City roadway was attended by more than 500 people. As guests crowded inside a huge tent and waited for Wynn to arrive, one man quipped, "There's going to be a mad rush when God arrives." Afterward, an elderly couple dressed in matching Elvis jackets clamored for Wynn's autograph.
One day during Bellagio's opening festivities in October, as he finished
lunch and headed off through the resort, Wynn bumped his shin on a low stone wall. His expression was pained, but he instantly recovered, only to take two more steps and stumble over the base of a metal pole. The Mirage
employee accompanying Wynn did not appear to be accustomed to the subtleties of leading the boss without being obvious: Despite a degenerative eye disease, he is determined to appear in public as if his vision is fine.
Undeterred, Wynn cautiously walked past the Bellagio's $300 million art
gallery, where masterpieces by van Gogh, Renoir and Monet hang on the walls, and through the hotel's conservatory, with its 50-foot ceiling and explosion of flowers. On through the lobby he went, with all heads spinning in his direction.
As he gingerly walked onto the casino floor, he was met by a close friend,
the singer Paul Anka. Throwing his arm around the shoulder of the diminutive
Anka for guidance, Wynn moved quickly now, through the rows of blackjack
tables, past the four-star restaurants with their world-renowned chefs,
beyond the high-roller slot area where gamblers such as Julius Erving, the
retired basketball star, were playing slot machines at $100 a spin, and
toward the $95 million theater that is home to a new original Cirque du
Soleil production.
This was just the atmosphere that the Mirage chairman had envisioned for all
of his new properties, and as customers stared and marveled at him, he
beamed with the confidence befitting the unofficial king of this gambling
kingdom. "Smell this place," he said, pursing his lips and squinting his
eyes with sheer delight. "Feeeeeel this place."

Copyright 1998 The New York Times Company