By Patrick Timothy Mullikin

I have a confession to make – and it's a big one. I've visited the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas not once but twice. My first visit was the weekend preceding Sept. 11, 2001. My second, by pure coincidence, was the weekend preceding the fifth anniversary of September 11. Both visits were diversions from my real Las Vegas agenda: Blackjack.

I like Liberace and his cornball ilk: guys like Lawrence Welk, Mitch Miller, Perry Como, Arthur Godfrey and, of course, Bing Crosby.

For those too young to know Liberace (pronounced Libber-Ah-Chay, not Libber-Ace), he was a classical/pop pianist known for a head of wavy hair that drove the women (and many a man, as history would show) crazy. In his later years he took to wearing outrageous fur-and-feathered capes, sequined gowns and jumpsuits.

"Fasten your gold-lamé , rhinestone-studded seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, the tour is about to begin."

If I ran the Liberace Museum, located in Liberace Plaza, a strip-mall complex on the outskirts of town, that's how I would begin the tour.

As it is, the museum has a quiet, churchlike ambience. Guides speak in hushed tones so as not to wake the artifacts on display. I am told, quietly, that my $12.50, one-time admission fee is tax-deductible. I keep my receipt. I can, if I choose, become a member of the Liberace Museum Foundation and Museum. An individual membership is $35, which includes free museum admission and a 10 percent discount at The Museum Store and The Liberace Cafe. For $1,000, a Platinum Candelabra Membership entitles me and 10 guests to a private tour. Speaking of tours, I am one hour early for the guided tour. A blessing: On my own I can take my time and talk to museum employees.

Nick, 79, is a string-bass-player-turned-banker-turned-Liberace-Museum employee who looks like Martin Landau. I learn from Nick that on average 100,000 people visit the museum annually. That's almost 275 people per day. (Let's see: 275 x $12.50 admission fee = $3,437.5, plus, say another $15 per person x 275 for gift shop crap and munchies = $4,125 + $3,437.5 for a daily total draw of $7,562.50. Not as good as operating a casino, but not bad. Not bad at all.).

I learn through old family photos and text many things about Liberace. In 1942 Walter Valentino Liberace opts for plain Liberace. In 1948 he is featured in a Ripley's "Believe it Or Not" strip for playing 6,000 notes in two minutes. In 1954 he is listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the highest paid pianist, earning $2 million. I also learn that in 2005 the Liberace Museum earned "Best Bathroom in Las Vegas" by the Travel Channel. I use this bathroom at least three times during my visit. To me any bathroom, when needed, deserves the Best Bathroom Award.

Some 20 of us mill about this hallowed ground, some genuinely interested, other bemused or bewildered, but all happy to be out of the blazing 100-degree heat as we look at a fleet of automobiles owned by Liberace and his collection of pianos. To see the rest of the exhibit means leaving the air-conditioning and crossing Liberace Plaza, past a hookah store, a wedding chapel and a Korean church, along a sidewalk with plaques commemorating milestones in Liberace's life. I try not to step on them. A few have been wrenched from the concrete and taken home as souvenirs, presumably. Items in the gift shop are just as good and lighter.

Monica, 57, a cashier, is showing a customer some replicas of Liberace's famous rings that are for sale. The real rings are on display in a Plexiglas case in the main exhibit. On the wall above this display is a card: "People ask how I can play with all those rings, and I reply: 'Very well, thank you.'" I laugh aloud at Liberace's witticism and write it down in my pocket notebook as Claire, 20, a tour guide and/or security guard looks at me suspiciously. As she polishes a silver candelabrum, she tells me tomorrow a new exhibit opens: "Outside The Shoe Box – Liberace's Famous Footwear." Claire oversees the main room that houses 20 or so of Liberace's 60 capes and gowns. Some weigh more than 100 pounds.

There it is! The Holy Grail: The red-white-and-blue-sequined hot pants outfit that Liberace wore to celebrate 1986's Statue of Liberty restoration celebration. For $29.99 a visitor can purchase a life-sized cardboard cutout of Liberace decked in this outfit. Monica tells me that the biggest seller is an $8.95 kitchen magnet version of the life-sized image.

The gift shop is chockful of Liberace dust collectors: snow globe ($9.95); mouse pad ($6.95); hand towels ($5.25); 10 boxes of wooden matches ($1.75), which I bought; and various postcards. My favorite postcard shows Liberace with a poodle. It reads: "Treat your best friend like a queen." Is this an indirect reference to Liberace's homosexuality? (Liberace died on Feb. 4, 1987, from complications related to the AIDS virus.) There is also an entire shelf of Liberace bobble-head dolls ($12.99 each). A Liberace bobble-head doll? Hmmm? Monica, a true Liberace fan, tells me she does not care for the tongue-in-cheek references to Liberace. But Karan, who serves on the museum board, takes different view. She merchandises and sells a line of products under the "I Love Liberace" heading.

Karan admits that while some of the items, such as the "Treat your best friend like a queen" may be a little over the edge, none are malicious. Her goal, she says, is to introduce Liberace to a new generation as the original Liberace fans die out. These are the kids, she says, who pronounce his name "Libber-Ace," know nothing of his music, which, admittedly, at its best is schmaltzy, but who like Liberace's kitsch factor.

The rap stars of today, she says, are doing what Liberace did years ago. I'm not clear what she means by this, her closing remark.

We shake hands. It's a lukewarm shake at best. She ducks behind a door (to the Liberace boardroom?), and I step outside onto Liberace Plaza. The heat is stifling, and I'm certain my souvenirs – and I myself – will burst into flame.

Perhaps there is something to be said about disturbing sacred ground. The curse of Tutankhamen's tomb comes to mind, a replica of which, by the way, is on display just down the road – at the King Tut Museum located at the Luxor Hotel.

Be sure to catch the Carrot Top show while you're there.



Patrick Timothy Mullikin writes regularly for Vermont Sunday Magazine.