Reno Arch | reno

The Biggest Little Arch in History

by Joseph Cheung

It is three o’clock in the afternoon and Reno’s wind chill is getting to me. I am doing my best to focus on walking down Virginia Street but the task proves challenging as my body desperately clings to the warmth of a gray fleece jacket. Though I do not have any specific destination in mind, my absent-minded trek through downtown Reno takes me to the foot of the Reno arch. Its towering golden body glimmering under the sun, the great arch features Reno’s famous slogan: “Reno: The Biggest Little City in the World.” I remember the first time I saw the iconic sign at night– illuminated by hundreds of fluorescent light bulbs the arch burned like a torch through the darkness. Looking at it now in the daylight, the sign is largely underwhelming and I wonder why the city would choose to invest so much on an architectural accessory.

Actually, the fact that I do not know the answer to my previous question strikes me as a bigger problem. Every great city has its own landmark tied to its identity: Paris has the Eiffel Tower; New York, the Empire State Building; Las Vegas, the Strip. Though Reno has its arch and slogan, the history behind this well-known symbol lies in murky waters whereas the other three I just listed have well-documented and publicized histories. To put it in terms of the modern age, where googling “history of Eiffel Tower” would yield at least one useful source within the first three search results, “history of Reno Arch” would only yield one source in ten results; that is a difference of at least seven orders of google-searchiness (a term I wholly made up just now)! Always one for a challenge, this discerning scarcity of information on the arch makes for the perfect subject of a research essay. So, with a new topic in hand, I enthusiastically begin my hunt for information.

Two weeks later, I not-so-absentmindedly make my way to the mysterious Nevada Historical Society building on the University of Nevada, Reno campus. At my wits end after hours of fruitless searching, I had no choice but to swallow my pride and ask my English professor, Dr. Glotfelty, where on Earth I might find any historic proof that the Reno arch had not spontaneously come into existence. Thankfully, in all her wisdom, Professor Glotfelty knew just the place and sent me to the historical society. Now, entering the dedicated research area of the building, I am led by a very kind old lady to a large, musty room in the far back. Cabinets fill the entire area, each nearly as tall as the ceiling – the entire scene was strangely reminiscent to Mordor from the Lord of the Rings. Left to my own devices now I make my way to the section labeled “Arch”, open a drawer, and take a dive into history.

Original design of Reno Arch (Clfton, Guy)

Leafing through documents my thumb stops on the article with the oldest date: The year is 1926 and with the completion of the Lincoln and Victory Highways the nation is more interconnected than ever before. In celebration of the new roads, a commemorative arch is erected in Reno. At last, a clue! However, this arch is nothing like the arch I have come to know. This Reno arch, designed by Norman W. Prince and erected by the J.L. Stuart Company of San Francisco, is a wide steel structure that resembles a drawbridge. In large block letters, “RENO” sits centered on top of the arch with stylized torches on either side. However, missing from under the city’s name, the famous Reno slogan is nowhere to be found; instead the sign reads “NEVADA’S TRANSCONTINENTAL HIGHWAYS EXPOSITION JUNE 25 – AUG 1 1927” (Clifton, Guy).

This Reno sign was most definitely not the one I was looking for. I thought I was looking at the wrong place, so I quickly worked my way down the article to the location of this arch… It stretched across Virginia Street at Commercial Row, precisely where the current arch stands. Despite my disbelief, this was definitely the Reno Arch, or at least some past iteration of it. How on earth and when did the transition occur? I needed to do some more digging.

The Lincoln and Victory Highways seemed like a good place to start. I peruse through the 1920’s section of the Reno cabinet. In the twenties, Nevada’s economy was predominated by mining, grazing, and railroads. There were no casinos, no gambling halls, no liberal divorce laws to attract outsiders and their money. I felt like I was looking into an alien world.

Nevada’s economy in the early 1920’s was flagging; mining had dwindled and population had fallen to the point that the state was called America’s “great rotten borough”. James G. Scrugham (yes, the guy whose name is on the Scrugham Engineering and Mining Building on the University of Nevada, Reno campus), Nevada’s governor at the time, was an engineer by training. He saw the danger inherent in economic dependence on mining and so searched for an alternative path to guide the state to prosperity. His answer: attracting tourism through state parks and establishing Ely as the Lincoln Highway’s fork to both San Francisco and Los Angeles (Cox, Thomas R.). His plan saw a great deal of success – Pyramid Lake, prehistoric cities in Clark and southern Nye counties, and the Lehman Caves were part of an impressive network of protected tourist sites Scrugham helped establish. Even Herbert Hoover (then U.S. Secretary of Commerce) commended Scrugham as the “outstanding executive in the Western states.” However, Ely lost out to Salt Lake City in the bid for the Lincoln Highway, destroying any plans for making the city a major transportation hub. Also, Republican political pressure and the lackluster performance of the parks themselves eventually ousted Scrugham from office, effectively ending his dream of transforming Nevada into a Mecca for scenery preservation.

Despite Governor Scrugham’s failure to form an embryonic state park system, all of his effort to bring in tourism to Nevada played a large part in bringing the new national highways through the state and, more specifically, Reno. Thus, on October 23, 1926, the very first Reno Arch was erected on Virginia Street accompanied by a four-hundred-man marching squad and eighty-piece band (Hinman, Debbie).

After the grand Reno Transcontinental Highway Exposition, the Reno city council decides to keep the arch. However, the arch needs a new slogan to replace the large empty span under “RENO.” Mayor Roberts of Reno puts out a call to the citizens of his city for any suggestions. Letters, cards, and notes flood the unsuspecting mayor’s office. Many of the suggestions are mundane, emphasizing the simple pleasures of life in Reno: “Reno: A City Unrestrained In Its Enjoyment of Natural Rights”; “Reno: A City of Sunshine With Warm Welcomes for All”; “Reno: The Gateway to Prosperity and Happiness”; Reno: Nevada’s Silver Lilly”; “Reno: The Busiest Little City in the West”; “Reno: Where Life’s Worth Living”. One loquacious suggestion waxed poetic: “Reno: Here in Nevada Where the Sagebrush Grows, Nature has forgotten to Record its Woes.” And then there was the blessed gem in the rough: “Reno, If You Are in a Rush, We Will Get You a Divorce in Three Months” (Earl, Phillip I.)! Sadly, none of these suggestions, including the brilliant divorce one, made it past the city council so the word “RENO” sat atop the arch alone, accompanied only by the two decorative torches by its side.

As 1928 came to a close the Reno Chamber of Commerce and Sierra Street Improvement requests that the city council make another attempt to find a slogan. This time, the entrants got serious about their suggestions, a fact that is in no small part influenced by the $100 grand prize for the winner. Catchier potential slogans appear this time around: “Reno: the Best Out West”; “East or West, Reno serves Best”; and “In Progressive Reno, Loiter, Linger, Locate” (Earl, Phillip I.). Above all, many people submitted a slogan repeated many times in advertising campaigns: “Reno: The Biggest Little City in the World.”

Mystery solved! Patting myself on the back I begin to pack away the stack of files that has grown next to me for the better part of an hour; they’re carelessly strewn all over the floor and table, and many of them I haven’t had more than a glimpse of. Starting with the fattest folder, creatively named “RENO ARCH”, I pick up the thick manila folder by the crease... and of course all its contents spill out. “AN EXPOSITION GAVE RENO ITS ARCH; SACRAMENTO MAN GAVE IT ITS SLOGAN” (“An Exposition…”) screams at me from the top of the new pile I just made. Too ADHD to ignore such a loud and snazzy title, and too lazy to clean up my mess at the moment, I pick up the yellowing newspaper and read.

Advertisement using an older version of famous slogan (Chuckmaster)

To my surprise, this conspicuous article led me to one of the greatest mysteries behind the famous Reno Arch: Why on earth was this random man, G.A. Burns of Sacramento, the recipient of the $100 prize for the Reno slogan? Countless Nevada natives also submitted this well known slogan. The whole situation smelled of controversy; was there bribery or ulterior political motives involved? Perhaps he was a relative of a city council member? I searched far and wide for the answers to this strange story behind the slogan of the arch but came up with no answers. I consulted Phillip Earl, the curator of the Nevada Historical Society, in hopes of answers, but even he could only shrug and say, “I have no idea why he won” (Earl, Phillip I.). Though his is an intriguing tale, the story of G.A. Burns remains a mystery lost in time, his presence leaving little more than a spectral imprint on the annals of Reno’s history.

Mystery solved! Patting myself in the back I begin to pack away the stack of files that has grown next to me for the better part of an hour; they’re carelessly strewn all over the floor and table and many of them I haven’t had more than a glimpse of. Starting with the fattest folder, creatively named “RENO ARCH”, I pick up the thick manila by the crease... and of course all its contents spill out. “AN EXPOSITION GAVE RENO ITS ARCH; SACRAMENTO MAN GAVE IT ITS SLOGAN” [citation] screams at me from the top of the new pile I just made. Too ADHD to ignore such a loud and snazzy title, and too lazy to clean up my mess at the moment, I pick up the yellowing newspaper and read.

To my surprise, this random article led me to one of the greatest mysteries behind the famous Reno Arch: Why on earth was this random man, G.A. Burns of Sacramento, the recipient of the $100 prize for the Reno slogan? Countless Nevada natives also submitted this well known slogan. The whole situation smelled of controversy; was there bribery or ulterior political motives involved? Perhaps he was a relative of a city council member? I searched far and wide for the answers to this strange story behind the slogan of the arch but came up with no answers. I consulted [insert name here], the curator of the Nevada Historical Society, in hopes of answers but even he could only shrug and say “I have no idea why he won” [citation]. Though his is an intriguing tale, the story of G.A. Burns remains a mystery lost in time, his presence leaving little more than a spectral imprint on the annals of Reno’s history.

Though far from satisfied, I sensed that new information on the arch’s founding was growing sparse and that I should move on. A 1932 article catches my eye with an uncharacteristically unlit Reno Arch in front of the city lights. Suspecting a natural disaster such as a flood, I did some more digging. I was actually pretty close to the truth; the cataclysmic Great Depression had come to Reno. When economic hard times fell upon the city, the famous arch’s bright lights attracted fiscal cuts like moths to a flame. With 944 light bulbs to maintain and an electric bill of thirty dollars a month (a modern day equivalent of $519.93 a month) the city was straining to keep its icon alive (Hinman, Debbie). However, in the face of more pressing monetary concerns, the Reno city council decided that its budget could not afford to foot the sign’s enormous bill. Reno’s torches, and its famous slogan, blew out in November 1932 (Hinman, Debbie).

Luckily for the city, a hero appeared to bring Reno out of the darkness and back into the fluorescent glow of its greatest symbol. Her name was Rose Morgan, a local hotel owner. Rose believed that the arch’s advertising value outweighed the money the city would save by turning it off. By relighting the sign, she argued, more tourists would be attracted and the city’s primary source of income – the hotel and casino industry – would reap the benefits. Approaching the city council January of 1933, Rose Morgan presented an audacious plan to revive Reno: Given the sanction of the council, Ms. Morgan would lead her fellow business owners in a joint effort to foot the bill for the lights on the arch! (Earl, Phillip I.) Seeing no downside to the plan – whether or not Morgan succeeded, the city would still be saving money – the council gave its consent. However, there was understandable skepticism. The entire nation was suffering from the greatest economic disaster in history, and there was no indication that it would end any time in the future. What guarantee was there that local businesses would agree to shoulder yet another financial burden? Incredibly, Rose Morgan’s ambitious venture worked against all odds. In one fell swoop Morgan rekindled the torch of Reno’s tourism and united its business owners stronger than ever before.

Only one short year after its relighting, Reno’s Sign entered the future: The age of neon had taken the nation by storm! Just like a teenager who felt too cool for their parents’ era, the citizens of Reno claimed that slogans were passé, too boastful for the modern age (Earl, Phillip I.). In response to the public outcry, the city gave the arch new neon, which only featured the word “RENO” in bright green letters.

New neon sign on first Reno Arch (Chuckmonster)

Though I cannot speak for the residents of Reno at the time, personally the new sign looks boring. It lacked the punch of the old one; the previous arch made a statement that put Reno on the map. The new one, at least to me, is cold and barren of any message of Reno. If I were driving down the highway and saw a big sign that said “RENO,” I would be inclined to ask it – yes, I talk to signs – “so what?” Thankfully, 1934’s Reno had plenty of citizens who had the same thoughts I did – I like to imagine crowds gathering at the base of the arch to communicate with it en masse – and protested the famous slogan’s removal. On June 12, 1935, the slogan returned with new art deco neon lettering.

At this point of my research I came across a three-decade long time period devoid of any news articles on the arch. Therefore, I logically arrived at the conclusion that the Reno Arch in fact ceased to exist, disappearing into the abyssal void of a temporal anomaly before being spat back out into existence thirty years later. That, or nothing interesting happened and no one really felt the need to report on the routine operation of the arch.

Moving on, Nevada is nearing its statehood centennial. The year is 1963 and, to celebrate a century of existence, Harold’s Club publicist Roy Powers launches a campaign to raise $100,000 make a new Reno Arch (Hinman, Debbie). Though the iconic arch has gone through many changes before, this will be the first change in the sign’s architectural design since its debut in Nevada’s Transcontinental Highways Exposition. Contracting the Stockton, California company Ad/Art, the new sign is erected in record time and, just before Christmas, a new, 70-foot tall Reno arch stands triumphantly on Virginia Street.

As for the old arch, the City of Reno relocated it to Idlewild Park next to the Truckee river where it stands until 1969. That year, the street at Idlewild is widened from two lanes to four lanes. The road now too wide for the old arch to span, the tired Reno sign is relocated to its third location; Paradise Park on Oddie Blvd. (Earl, Phillip I.)

For over ten years, the new arch operates without severe technical issues. However, this span was but the calm before an impending storm of hilarity; in 1977 the Reno Sign catches fire from combusting pigeon droplets (Earl, Phillip I.). According to one fireman at the scene, there were “close to a ton of pigeon droppings” (Bishoff, Don). A ton! Frozen in its tracks, the City of Reno can only watch in horror as the fate of its iconic arch is grasped in the slightly soiled claws of local fowl. (On a side note, Alfred Hitchcock’s famous cinema masterpiece The Birds was first shown in theatres in 1963, the very same year that the new sign was erected – the irony in this situation is as obvious and hilariously distracting as bird droppings on a windshield.)

With the city desperate to salvage the sign from combusted droppings, the Harold’s Club offers a reward of $100 to whoever submits the best solution to Reno’s pigeon problem. Suggestions fly in from around the country – presumably by carrier pigeon – as the nation’s greatest minds ponder the Reno Sign issue. Of the three hundred forty nine proposed anti-dropping measures flooding the Harold’s Club postal office, a select few rose above the rabble: One applicant suggested that the sign should be regularly greased, optimally on a daily basis, to make it too slick for birds to perch on; another person offered the idea of playing a recording of a falcon periodically from the top of the arch; and yet another one brilliantly proposed putting live rattlesnakes inside the arch to scare away birds (Earl, Phillip I.). (I like to think that this last individual was hoping for a future $100 award offered to whoever could solve the new rattlesnake problem.) Ultimately, the prize money went to Stephen Gaddis, a Harold’s employee, who put forward the idea of swiveling bars on the sign (“Prize awarded…”). If any pigeon should try to land on it, the bar would turn and the bird would slip off, thus foiling any fowls from leaving refuse.

The newest Reno arch, first built in 1987 (Chuckmaster)

Come 1987, the Reno City Council decides that the town needs a new arch. No, it was not the city’s birthday, President Reagan did not in fact plan on gracing Reno with his impressive yet conservative presence, and it was not a leap year. As far as my research is concerned, the city council just met one day and decided that Reno was really good that year so it deserved a bigger arch. How much bigger? Well, an enormous golden frame, eight hundred feet of neon tubing, and two thousand seventy-six incandescent lights bigger (Hinman, Debbie). To find a suitable design for the bold new arch, the city of Reno had sponsored a design-that-arch contest. Chuck Barnard, a designer of the Ad/Art Company who created the winning blueprints, received the $2,500 promised by the city. However, though Ad/Art won the battle, its bitter rival, the Young Electric Sign Company (YESCO), won the war. You see, while the design by Ad/Art had been finalized by the city, the contract for building the sign itself was still up for grabs. Reno offered $250,000 to Ad/Art, a reasonable amount for building something in the scale of the planned new arch. Then, suddenly, Reno rescinded its bid and signed the contract to YESCO. Unbeknownst to its rivals YESCO bid only $99,000 – barely enough money to cover cost of materials – to Reno: It was an offer too good to refuse (Earl, Phillip I.). In the end, both Ad/Art and YESCO did not make much of a profit out of the Arch, but the city of Reno received a very generous contribution from both companies and ultimately saved a lot of money.

With complete knowledge of how the Reno Arch came to be, I organized the papers laying about me in neat stacks and packed them away into their respective folders. Finally, my search for understanding had come to a close; the slogan and arch were mysterious no more! The last stray article in my hand, I prepare to put it away before something stops me; perhaps I just felt sad that my research was coming to an end. Since I was done I could not see why I did not have time for one more article, so for old time’s sake I sat down and read.

…The read took a lot more of my time than expected.

The article was written on the second Reno Arch after it was replaced. It was titled “Las Vegas brain surgeon wants to buy, spruce up old Reno Arch” and it featured an image of a dilapidating 1963 arch in pieces (Jorden, Jill). Though the story was intriguing – it discussed the morality of selling off Reno’s past symbol to Las Vegas in the hopes that it would shine again – the controversy itself was not the thing that hooked me. It was the Vegas physician, Dr. Lonnie Hammargren (Jorden, Jill), who was trying to buy the sign that got to me. I knew that guy! Dr. Hammargren’s house is a popular, albeit strange, site to visit in Vegas; I remember visiting it when I was younger. The building is enormous and stored within it are thousands of random – and I mean random – objects. I recall seeing one of the Apollo aircraft in his front-yard, a chandelier made of mannequins in the living room, and a giant animatronic dragon head looming over his spacious courtyard. Did I mention the organization of this place was totally random? Knowing all this, I was not surprised to find out that he wanted to acquire the old Reno Arch for his collection. However, I can also see why the City of Reno would be hesitant to sell the arch away: The act would be equivalent to selling away Reno’s soul. Also, Dr. Hammargren’s asking price was $1,000 or lower for the Arch. Though the good doctor would most likely do a good job to care for it, I really doubt he would give it the reverence and respect befitting an artifact so symbolic of Reno.

The Willits Arch (Chunkmonster)

Now, curious as to the destiny of the second Reno arch, I dug deep into the Nevada Historical Society archives, hoping to find anything about the sign’s whereabouts. Eventually, I encountered a small, inconspicuous article: “Forgotten Reno Arch finds a new life in California.” The city of Reno did not, in fact, take Dr. Hammargren’s offer. Instead, the remains of the arch were sent to the small town of Willits, California to make them a new sign. The design of the Willits sign is honestly a little dainty in my opinion; it is simple, folksy, and I doubt anyone could tell at a glance that it was once from Reno. However, reading the comments the citizens of Willits on their brand new Willits Arch, my heart warms up to the new design:

“It just fits like a glove.” (Cox, Don)

“We love the arch. We think it’s wonderful.” (Cox, Don)

“It’s awesome. It’s indescribable. It’s so beautiful.” (Cox, Don)

Compared to the lack of passion from Dr. Hammargren, these folks definitely made a more welcome home for the arch. In fact, according to the article, Willits was the first city that called Reno expressing interest in the sign and it spent $67,000 in donations and five years to restore it. Although the second arch is no longer in Reno, its new city of residence definitely gives it just as much, if not more, love as its hometown.

At the close of my investigation – my research papers all put back (almost) correctly into their respective cabinets – I found myself once again walking through downtown Reno, absent-mindedly noting the rosy tinge of the sky as the sun settled on the mountains. This time, my feet stopped me right next to the old National Auto Museum on Lake Street Casting a network of shadows on my face, the very first Reno Arch stood above me. I had a feeling this was not due to coincidence: I already knew that the first arch was restored and moved to this very location (Mendoza, Monica). Though its white skeletal frame seemed simplistic compared to the current one spanning Virginia Street, it radiated an aura of grandeur missing from its contemporary. The network of metal joints that comprised this old arch reflected each defining point in its rich history that, up till now, I could not comprehend. Eventually, I managed to tear myself away and make my way back home but, despite myself, I could not help but look back one last time. As the sun set, its last dying beams illuminating the ancient arch in pink and gold, the history of the sign and its slogan rushed through my mind all at once. For just one moment, as I saw how a disparate collection of news articles, journal entries, and other stories connected through time to define one city, I caught a glimpse of why Reno really may be the “Biggest Little City in the World.”

Works Cited

“An Exposition Gave Reno Its Arch; Sacramento Man Gave It Its Slogan.” Nevada State Journal 17 Aug., Reno, Nevada ed.: Print. (no

page number available)

Bishoff, Don. “Pigeons help Reno ignite, then unite.” Eugene Register-Guard. 20 Nov. 1977. Eugene, Oregon ed.: 19a. Print.

Chuckmonster, “History and Photos of The Reno Arch.” RenoTripping.com: A Sinners Guide to Reno & Lake Tahoe. 15-North Inc. n.d. 6

Nov. 2014.

Clifton, Guy. Reno. Charleston, South Carolina: Arcadia Publishing, 2012. Print.

Cox, Don. “Forgotten Reno Arch finds a new life in California.” Reno Gazette-Journal 1 Jul. 1995.: 1A, 5A. Print.

Cox, Thomas R. “Before the Casino: James G. Scrugham, State Parks, and Nevada’s Quest for Tourism.” Western Historical Quarterly:

Utah State University 24.3 (Aug., 1993): 332-350. Web. 6 Nov. 2014.

Earl, Phillip I. “A New Arch for Reno.” Nevada Magazine Jul.-Aug. 1987: 106-107, 111. Print.

Earl, Phillip I. Personal Interview 11 Nov. 2014

Hinman, Debbie. “Reno’s Arches: The Whole Story.” FootPrints 10.1 (Winter 2007): 1-4. Print.

Jorden, Jill. “Las Vegas brain surgeon wants to buy, spruce up old Reno Arch.” Reno Gazette-Journal 30, Jun. 1988.: 1A, back page. Print.

Mendoza, Monica. “Folks capture Reno’s past under the arch.” Reno Gazette-Journal 7 Feb. 1994: Print. (no page number available)

“Prize awarded for plan to rid arch of pigeons.” The Day 3 Jan. 1978.: 12. Print.