Double or Nothing: How Two Friends Risked It All to Buy One of Las Vegas' Legendary Casinos
This might not have been a big deal if we were only selling rooms at the Hilton. A room at the Hilton is a room at the Hilton whether it’s in Birmingham or Chicago. But we were selling rooms in Las Vegas. The hotels we were offering had exotic themes. People were curious about the pirate motif at Treasure Island, the pyramid designs at the Luxor, and the medieval décor at Excalibur.
    When we first launched a rudimentary site in 1996, feedback was immediate. Customers loved seeing pictures of the hotels and discovering the amenities on the properties. The computer screen was much more compelling and efficient than a reservation agent. An agent could only describe the hotels. An agent could pass on rates only as fast as the customer could write them down. Now, in the snap of a finger, the customer’s eye could take in columns of rates listed on our site.
    It was a huge leap. But our initial Web site was still no more than an electronic brochure. Once the customer saw it, he or she then had to call our 800 number to make the reservation.
    Then came an ordinary phone call that nobody would pick up. No matter how many people we hired to work the phones,we never seemed to be able to keep pace with the ringing telephones. Many times, I would jump in and lend a hand, but that would drive Tim crazy.
    â€œTom, what are you picking up the phone for? That’s not your job. You’re in charge of the company!”
    But I just couldn’t help myself. If somebody was calling up for our business, I couldn’t bear to stand by and let the phone ring. One day, I picked up and, in the best spirit of my mother, got into a conversation with the customer.
    â€œWhen are we going to be able to book over the Internet,” he asked, “without making a phone call?”
    I didn’t have an answer. So I started to answer more calls. I asked everyone if they’d prefer to book their reservations over the Internet from start to finish. Many said they would. Then I examined all of our e-mails. People were asking about full Internet service there, too.
    Usually, I’m the brake and Tim’s the accelerator. But I just felt like I had to hit the gas pedal on this one. Still, it wasn’t in my nature to go roaring ahead without talking it over.
    In October of 1997, Tim and I went to the Notre Dame-USC football game with the Fertittas. Lorenzo’s dad was old school and didn’t understand or appreciate the Internet at the time. But we really valued his wisdom and counsel. He’d come to Las Vegas from Texas in 1960 with $160 in his pocket and built a multibillion dollar company of casinos that were favorites among the locals. His sons, Frank and Lorenzo, had bought a huge piece of LVRS when Tim needed money at the outset. And they later sold it back to us when LVRS became an impediment to Station Casinos going public. The Fertittas were always there for us.
    I explained the possibilities of the Internet to Mr. Fertitta on the ride back from the game. “It might be a great opportunity,” he said. “Just don’t put yourself in a position where you’ll go outof business if it doesn’t work. Put half of this year’s profit in it and give it a real shot. If it doesn’t work, it won’t bury you.”
    I was off and running, and it was a good thing. Because business was changing so fast during those days that a couple of weeks meant the difference between becoming the industry leader with a powerful foothold and a Johnny-come-lately that was lost in the pack.
    I sketched out an easy-to-use reservation process with Richie Rich that would take five clicks or less. I wanted each page to load in just a few seconds. Being the fastest travel Web site was important.
    Five months and $11,000 later, on February 26, 1998, we launched.
    When I came into the office the next day, there was a long queue of reservations listed on the screen. Next to each one was a single word.

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