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Show byways and backwaters The Biggest Little City, Growing or Groaning great gaming giants of Las Vegas are moving in. Reno's got an MGM Grand, a massive monolith towering above the Truckee, visible for miles. For this behemoth, the city traded away valuable acres of greenbelt land and encumbered encum-bered its already overloaded sewage system. In return, a casino-hotel complex of mind-boggling mind-boggling dimension offering such stupefyingly huge entertainment enter-tainment as the "Hello, Hollywood Holly-wood Review" currently playing. play-ing. I mean, how many times have you seen a fully-on 747 jet fuselage on stage? Across the freeway, in Sparks, John's Ascuaga's Nugget-like Topsy . keeps growing. grow-ing. It's got to be the only gaming casino in the world that incorporates freeway support columns into its internal decor. The freeway actually spans the building which itself extends for acres, housing a hotel, casinos, and at last count, eight restaurants. Once a haven for ranchers in from the cow counties for a litle r-and-r, or for families up from the Bay area for a taste of the wild-and-wicked life of supposedly suppos-edly wide open Nevada, the new Reno now seeks to attract the type of high roller drawn to its sister gambling mecca to the South, Las Vegas. And so the down-home felling is fading. The old-felt-slipper comfort has almost disappeared. disappear-ed. Bigger and bigger casinos to attract bigger and bigger crowds. In the process, much of the city's character has been erased. Folks who favor Vegas aren't the same ones who'd choose Reno. Is it a disappointment? Not really. The slots still spit coins with amazing regularity. The Sierra skiing nearby is still fabulous as is dune buggying in the adjoining desert. You can hobnob with characters in jeans or in cashmere, all at the same time. But, somehow, Monte Carlo it's not nor is never going to be. Reno's still the "biggest little city," a cowntown gone sophisticated sophis-ticated but not quite achieving that goal. Beneath that artificial veneer, there's a cowtown gone modern, a little city not quite fitting its gaudy new britches. By Pat Whitfield The slightly bedraggled but still gay arch spans "casino row" on South Virginia Street in Reno, Nevada. Nightly, it's neon letters proclaim that Reno's still the "biggest little city in the world." And it is, but it's changing fast. To a world that doesn't know the northern Nevada city well Reno still recalls memories of quickie divorces and high rollers. All with the Sierra Nevada as a backdrop and sage-carpeted desert as stage front. To those who know her well, the biggest little city never really was that way at all. Fifteen years ago, South Virginia Street was a main drag that dwindled to gravel just a mile out of downtown. Acres of ranch and farm land were just a stone's throw from the clubs of city center. Harold's Center reigned along with Fitz's and Harrah's was just a Johnny-come-lately. Extravaganza's like the Follies Bergere shared the limelight with the old west motif. Satin and spurs it was, back then. But now its changing. The graveled main thoroughfare forms a ribbon on asphalt clear to San Diego as part of U.S. 395. The farms and ranches have been transformed into housing tracts and shopping centers. And the comfortable old clubs have expanded till there's no more room to grow while the |