Walk down the Las Vegas Strip today, and you’ll see the shimmering curves of Wynn and the massive, red frame of Resorts World. But between them lies a void. A massive, expensive, and strangely quiet patch of dirt. This is where the Frontier Casino Las Vegas—later known as the New Frontier—used to stand. It wasn’t just another building. It was the soul of the old school.
The Frontier was the second resort ever built on the Strip. It opened in 1942 as the Hotel Last Frontier. It survived the mob era, the corporate takeover of the 60s, and one of the longest labor strikes in American history. Then, in 2007, they blew it up. Thousands of people watched the implosion, cheering as the neon went dark. They thought something better was coming. They were wrong.
Honestly, the story of the Frontier is basically the story of Vegas itself: a mix of high-stakes gambles, crushing debt, and the realization that sometimes, the "new" thing isn't actually better than the "old" thing.
The Wild West Beginnings of the Frontier Casino Las Vegas
Vegas in the 40s was dusty. Really dusty. When the Frontier first opened, it leaned hard into the cowboy aesthetic. We’re talking wagon wheel chandeliers and animal skins. It was meant to make people feel like they were in the "Real West," even though they were just there to drink gin and lose money at blackjack.
It underwent a massive face-lift in the 1960s. That’s when it became the New Frontier. This wasn't just a name change; it was a vibe shift. The ranch style was out. Space-age chic was in. This was the era of the "Atom" and the "Beyond." People were obsessed with the future, and the Frontier tried to look like a launchpad.
One of the coolest, or maybe weirdest, facts about this place? Elvis Presley made his Las Vegas debut there in 1956. He bombed. Seriously. The middle-aged crowd at the Frontier didn't get him. They wanted Frank Sinatra or a polite crooner, not a kid from Mississippi shaking his hips in a way that made their wives blush. The critics called him a "bore" and a "fright wig." It’s hilarious to think about now, considering Elvis basically became the patron saint of the city.
Howard Hughes and the Corporate Takeover
The Frontier Casino Las Vegas became part of a bigger chess game when Howard Hughes entered the picture. If you don't know Hughes, he was basically the Elon Musk of the mid-20th century, but with more germs and fewer tweets. He bought the Frontier in 1967 because he was tired of being kicked out of penthouses.
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Hughes wanted to clean up Vegas. He hated the mob influence. By buying the Frontier, along with the Desert Inn and the Sands, he started the trend of corporate ownership. It changed the math of the city. Suddenly, it wasn't about "the guy who knows a guy"; it was about spreadsheets and margins.
But the Frontier kept its grit. Even under corporate eyes, it felt like a place where you could still get a cheap steak and find a loose slot machine. It didn't have the pretension of the newer mega-resorts. That’s why people loved it. It was accessible.
The Strike That Almost Broke the Strip
You can't talk about this place without talking about the strike. On September 21, 1991, over 500 workers walked off the job. They were members of the Culinary Workers Union Local 226. The owners at the time, the Elardi family, were playing hardball.
This wasn't just a weekend protest. It lasted six years, four months, and ten days.
Think about that. People stood on that sidewalk in the blistering 110-degree heat for over half a decade. Not a single striker crossed the picket line. It remains one of the longest successful strikes in the history of the United States. When Phil Ruffin bought the hotel in 1998, he settled the strike immediately. He knew he couldn't run a successful business with that kind of bad energy—and a literal human chain—blocking the front door.
Why the New Frontier Had to Go (and Why It Failed)
By the mid-2000s, the Frontier looked like a relic. It was surrounded by giants. The Mirage had changed the game with its volcano. Bellagio had the fountains. The Frontier had... a mechanical bull at Gilley’s.
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Gilley’s was actually the hotel's saving grace toward the end. It was a massive country-western bar with bikini-clad bull riders and a lot of sawdust. It was the only part of the hotel that felt "alive" in the final years. People would come for the cheap beer and stay for the chaos. But a rowdy bar can't pay the property taxes on prime Strip real estate.
In 2007, Elad Group bought the Frontier for $1.2 billion. That was a record price per acre at the time. Their plan was to build "The Plaza Las Vegas," a replica of the famous New York hotel. It was going to be the pinnacle of luxury.
They imploded the Frontier in November 2007. I’ve watched the video dozens of times. It’s a clean drop. But then, the Great Recession hit. The housing market collapsed. Credit froze. The multi-billion dollar Plaza project was dead on arrival.
The Aftermath of the Implosion
For nearly a decade, the site sat as a literal hole in the ground. It was a graveyard of ambition.
- Steve Wynn eventually bought the land for $336 million in 2017—a fraction of what the Elad Group paid.
- He planned a massive "Paradise Park" with a lagoon and water shows.
- Then Wynn stepped down following a scandal, and his successors scrapped the lagoon idea.
- They eventually built part of the Wynn extension, but a large chunk of that original Frontier land remained undeveloped for a long time.
It’s sorta heartbreaking. You tear down a piece of history for a dream that never happens. It’s a recurring theme in Vegas. We’re so obsessed with the "next big thing" that we destroy the "current good thing" before we’re sure we can actually replace it.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Frontier
A lot of people think the Frontier was just a "cheap" hotel. That's a misunderstanding of what Las Vegas used to be. The Frontier wasn't cheap; it was value. There’s a difference. In the 90s, you could get a room there for $40 and a full meal for $10.
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Today, Vegas is built on the "resort fee" and the $25 cocktail. The Frontier represented an era where the casino actually wanted you to stay in the building. They weren't trying to squeeze every cent out of you at the front desk because they expected to get it from you at the craps table. When the Frontier died, that philosophy died with it.
Also, people forget that the Frontier was a pioneer in entertainment. Beyond Elvis, it hosted Siegfried & Roy before they became the icons of the Mirage. It was a testing ground for talent.
The Actionable Insight: How to Experience "Frontier" Energy Today
Since you can't book a room at the Frontier anymore, you have to look for its ghosts. If you want to feel what that era of Vegas was like, you have to leave the center of the Strip.
- Visit the New Gilley's: After the Frontier was demolished, Gilley's moved to Treasure Island (TI). It’s not exactly the same, but it keeps the spirit of the mechanical bull and the honky-tonk vibe alive. It’s one of the few places on the Strip that doesn't feel like a sterile shopping mall.
- Explore Downtown (Fremont Street): Places like the El Cortez or the Golden Nugget still have that "Frontier" DNA. They have low ceilings, the smell of old carpet (well, maybe that’s not a plus), and a feeling that the house actually cares if you’re having a good time.
- The Neon Museum: If you want to see the actual signs from the Frontier, go here. Seeing those massive light bulbs up close makes you realize the sheer scale of the craftsmanship that went into these old joints.
The Frontier Casino Las Vegas wasn't the fanciest place, but it was honest. It was a place where a dishwasher could stand his ground for six years and win. It was a place where Elvis could fail and come back as a king.
Next time you’re walking past that empty lot near the Fashion Show Mall, take a second to look at the dirt. Underneath all that dust is the footprint of a place that helped build the city. Vegas is great at building the future, but it’s terrible at remembering its past. Don't make the same mistake. Appreciate the "old" while it's still standing, because in this town, everything eventually meets the dynamite.
Practical Steps for Vegas History Buffs
If you’re planning a trip and want to avoid the generic "corporate" experience:
- Research the "Vintage Vegas" trail: Look for properties built before 1970 that are still standing, like the Flamingo or Tropicana (though the Trop is also on the chopping block).
- Talk to the dealers: Find the older guys and gals. Ask them where they worked in the 90s. They have stories about the Frontier that aren't in any history book.
- Skip the mega-buffets once: Go find a greasy spoon diner off-strip. That’s where the real Vegas locals—the ones who lived through the Frontier years—actually eat.
The Frontier is gone, but the lesson remains: the house always wins, but the stories belong to us.