In 1976, my best friend’s father, Craig Solomon, published a book titled “Play Like The Dealers Play.” It is based on Craig’s actual experiences, he moved to Las Vegas in 1945 and lived there until his death in 1998. During that same time he worked in and around casinos and clubs from the time he was old enough beginning in 1955. The following is an excerpt of that book after an edit and rewrite, it will be published and available in 2011. More information will be available through this blog. I hope you the following.


“Las Vegas, My Vantage Point”
“A brief history and insight from a former casino employee.”
By Craig Solomon, with David L. Sullivan

NEVADA = GAMBLING

LEGALIZE IT TO CONTROL IT

TAX IT TO BUILD A STATE

The first settlement in Nevada was established about 1850.

The famed COMSTOCK LODE was discovered and mining begun in 1859.

It is reported that a gambling game was operating in Nevada’s Carson Valley, along the route to California’s gold fields, by the end of 1850. As one can imagine that game was patronized by early travelers on their way to the gold fields of California. So I think it can safely be said that gambling has always been a part, a large part, of Nevada from the very beginning.

The founding of the COMSTOCK LODE led to the establishment of Virginia City and other nearby towns. It also marked the beginning of plans for Nevada as a separate territory or state. Prior to that time it had been more or less taken for granted that Nevada was, and would continue to be a part of either Utah or California.

Although the first settlers in Nevada were Mormons under the direction of Brigham Young, miners had no desire to be governed by a group of church people in Salt Lake.

Fortunes changed hands daily in Virginia City. That town soon boasted a fantastic opera house, featuring the top performers of the day. Samuel Clemens was a reporter on the Territorial Enterprise. It was there that he first wrote fiction and published it under the name, Mark Twain. The original development money for the Comstock came through San Francisco, but as the mines continued to yield twenty-four (24), hours a day, the mills ran and the casinos and saloons reaped their harvest. Fantastic schemes were concocted. Among those schemes was a separate state called Nevada.

On October 31,1864, the longest telegram in history was sent to the Congress of the United States. It was ratified as a state constitution, and Nevada became the thirty-sixth (36th), state of the Union. The timing was important as the nation was embroiled in the Civil War and ensured the continued flow of silver to the government and the vote of another ‘Free̓ state in the Congress. The nickname for the new state became “Battleborn.”

For many it seemed that Nevada gained statehood by being on the side of goodness and right. As a result the first Legislature passed morality laws which prohibited gambling. The law had little effect on gambling in the state. The casinos went right on operating. In 1867, after seeing that the ban had little to no effect the Legislature voted to legalize gambling. The action was vetoed by the Governor. In 1869, the Nevada Legislature again passed laws legalizing gambling in Nevada. When the Governor again vetoed the law, the united legislators promptly overrode the veto. Legal gambling flourished in Nevada for the next fifty years.

This was the time of settlement in the west, and a period of growth and change for Nevada. Prior to Nevada’s statehood, Las Vegas was settled by Mormons in 1855, their first fort has been restored and can be visited during the week. While the Mormons regularly sent their taxes to Salt Lake City, they were billed again by the Territory of Arizona, which at that time laid claim to Las Vegas. This caused some discontent. Finally, in 1857, all Mormon settlers in what has become Southern Nevada were recalled to help defend Salt Lake City against the advance of the US Army under the command of General Albert Sidney Johnston. Over the next few years a few ranchers drifted in, but much of Nevada, especially southern Nevada, remained barren desert.

The Comstock Lode was operable for almost twenty years, from about 1859 to 1878 until it became unprofitable to mine. The last few years of operation the mine shafts filled with hot water. While various means of draining the shafts were tried, including a tunnel through the mountains, most of the works were shut down and abandoned. It has been estimated that modern mining methods could extract more silver and precious metals from the tailings of the old mines than was produced from the mine themselves during their heyday.

It seems that different areas of the state experienced their own growth spurts at different times. For a brief period of time the main activity of the state moved from the western edge, the California border, to the eastern edge, the Utah border. The “Tn-cities” of Lincoln County were established in the 1860's. Panaca, the first of these communities was founded by Mormons as a farming community and prior to 1866, when state boundaries were re-drawn, was part of the state of Utah. It doesn’t seem to have much of a past, instead remaining constant with almost the same population today as a hundred years ago, most of those residents are related to the original settlers. Farming is still the primary industry.

The town of Caliente was built to satisfy the Union Pacific railroad’s need for a division point. The town straddled the railroad tracks and was built around a large, Spanish style railroad depot. Caliente remained the live spot in Lincoln County until the Union Pacific railroad adopted diesel locomotives which didn’t need a stop between Salt Lake City and Las Vegas.

Prior to the 1940's, the change from Mountain to Pacific time took place in the center of town, but in the late 1940's the time zone was moved to the eastern edge of time. Before that change, school children delighted in running clear across town and arriving at school before they left home.
Around the same time the time zone was moved the town hired a well known Nevada lawman. His official title was Town Marshall, his job was town tamer. Within a short time Caliente became a handy gas stop for adventurers on the road between Las Vegas and Elko.

Different from Panaca and Caliente, Pioche was built on silver mining, many would say a typical mining town and quickly became the county seat. Typical of the time the courthouse in Pioche was one of the most ornate in the west although it took several decades to be completed.
As has happened with towns built on the fortunes of mining, Pioche began to die in the 1870's as the returns from mining began to dwindle. While it saw resurgence of mining, for lead and zinc, during World War II, it never regained the boomtown status of the mid 1800's.

The US Mint was established in Carson City. This was the home of CC Trade dollars and dimes prized by coin collectors. Transportation costs closed the Mint in the 1880̓s. Today, it is a museum, not far From the State Capitol Building.

Mining didn’t only occur in the northern and eastern parts of the state. About 1898, silver was found along the Colorado River near Searchlight at the southern tip of the state. Silver ore was shipped by river steamer to the Gulf of California, and transferred to ocean going ships for transport to San Francisco. Searchlight boomed, becoming the biggest town in Southern Nevada for a short time. Today it is not much more than a ghost town.

In the years around 1900, gold strikes at Tonopah and Goldfield created towns which blazed to glory and then faded with the quality of the ore. Old timers tell how there was no such thing as paper money in Goldfield. Silver dollars were the rule, with five dollar gold pieces, $10 Eagles, and $20 Double Eagles being used for the large sums. Small wonder that miners looked for trousers with sturdy pockets.

In 1902, the Union Pacific began regular train service to Las Vegas. They inaugarated the service by holding a real estate auction. The railroad owned land near the right of way which was quickly sold. Within days, a tent city was flourishing. Many of the lots nearest the train stop were taken up by casinos and saloons. Soon the road between Searchlight and Las Vegas was busy with loaded wagons and gas operated trucks. The river steamers were no longer profitable and stopped operation. As the profits from the mines dwindled, Searchlight dwindled too. Soon, Las Vegas was the large, important city in Southern Nevada, which didn̓t mean much then. Reno, near Carson City, was a much larger and more important town.

In 1919, the Nevada Legislature once again outlawed gambling. This act was about as effective as it had been in 1864. It practically coincided with Prohibition, and was honored much in the same way.

Much of Las Vegas̓ Wild West period came with the 1920̓s. One of the well known citizens of the time ran a grocery store just a block from the railroad station. He first became known for his generosity with credit at the grocery store. After a few years, he ran for sheriff, and there were few voters who felt that they could vote against him. He served as sheriff for several years. Typical of his policy was his reaction to a gunfight staged on Fremont Street by two would be̓ toughs. When he was told the two were standing in the Street, waving guns, he simply walked up, grasped each by the back of their necks and banged their heads together and carried them to the jail.

Memories - childhood

1968 was a year of contradictions for all citizens, but especially a teenager, living in Las Vegas. For all intensive purposes segregation had ended. Performers like Sammy Davis, Jr., were no longer required to drive, or be driven, across town to stay in a hotel on the “West Side” of town after performing on the “Strip”. Now after they finished performing, Mr. Davis, and other “Black” performers, could ride the elevator upstairs to one of the suites provided by the hotel where they were performing.

Schools, which had previously appeared to be segregated only by geography were now fully integrated. Students were being bused all over the valley to insure that each Junior and Senior High School had a student body that somewhat reflected the city’s population.

For some these were drastic changes. For those who had lived in the city since the late 1940's, the idea of integration was quite alarming. There were neighborhoods where more and more minorities were moving in, but those were largely “lower” middle class areas, certainly not the true middle class neighborhoods of “Huntridge” or “Paradise”. And in the upper class neighborhoods like “Rancho Circle”, such an event was unthinkable.

Still, anything was possible. In a city where the southern most point was a casino which looked like a large extravagant Mexican hacienda and the northern most point was an Air Force Base which was home to the “Strategic Air Command” there wasn’t much that the city fathers could not imagine. Or so they thought.

In other parts of the nation cities were in turmoil. News reports of riots were quite alarming. Especially since they were reported as being somehow related to race. Las Vegas quickly found out it was not immune to the rising racial tensions.

I was in junior high school. It was fairly evenly mixed school. When the school year ended in June there had been only a few fights and other incidents. When we returned in the fall it was a very different situation. Over the summer there were rumors of different problems around town. Not all of them were rumors, my father was working for the fire department at the time and more than once I overheard him telling my mother or some of his friends that there had been incidents when they answered calls on the “West Side”. Still I was some what removed.

I remember returning to school in the fall of 1968 and the drastic differences. Within the first week there were several fights between large groups of boys, white against black. I never knew who started these fights, I tried to keep my head down. As the weeks went by we began hearing an ominous whisper from black students, “the Panthers are coming and they’re going to burn this town!” I made the mistake of repeating this statement to my mother one day before my father got home. My mother’s yelling was nothing compared to the beating my dad gave me later. No one in my house wanted to hear such things.

While it was early in the school year each day the tensions grew. By the end of September our school day began with a bell ringing and the teachers and staff lining boys up, by race, in separate hallways and watching as we marched to our home rooms. Inevitably fists would fly and the “victim” would be carried along with those crowded in around him. By the end of the fall semester fights, along racial lines, had become so common that you didn’t bother to stop and watch unless one of the combatants was someone you knew. I’d like to hope this all came to a peaceful and productive end, but, my father in his wisdom moved my sister and I from my racially diverse, and divided, school across town to a school with so few minority students that they weren’t counted or acknowledged.

Last year while out to dinner with my son, Brian, and daughter in law, Carli, Carli poked my Brian and pointed out a young lady at a table across the room. I followed her finger and noticed a table full of high school kids, eating and visiting. My Brian smiled and said he recognized the girl and decided the boy she was sitting next to was her boyfriend. Never having met the girl I asked Brian what was so special about this girl who looked to be about 15. It turns out that this girl, “Iris”, was in Carli’s girls group at church and was very shy, especially when my Brian would come around to help or pick up Carli.
As a result of Iris’ shyness Brian would always make sure and say hello and call her by name whenever he saw her anywhere around town, not just at church. After awhile Iris began to warm up and would tease my son whenever she saw him.
As we ate our dinner we realized that Iris and her friends had not seen us. Realizing this Brian came up with the idea that someone ought to go over to Iris’ table and intimidate her boyfriend. I was willing but was quickly ruled out as to old, it might just be creepy. Brian could do it but he’s at least ten years older than Iris. As we sat there having a discussion of how to embarrass Iris we were obviously getting louder. We didn’t realize it until the young man sitting at the table next to us spoke up. At that time we looked at this young man. He was sitting at the next table with a young lady and a baby.
As we looked at each other the young man offered to do “it” for us. After a minute Brian shrugged his shoulders and turned to the young man, “okay, here’s the deal, her name is Iris, that’s her boyfriend, when she goes to the bathroom scare him just a little bit.” The young man grinned and nodded, “Iris, got it.”
Within ten minutes the opportunity arose, Iris and one of her friends got up from the table and went to the restroom. The young man stood and we got a good look at him. The sight made me rethink my son’s idea for the joke, but I couldn’t stop them. As he stood the young man’s tattoos on his neck and down one arm became visible. In fact, in another setting I would describe this young man as a Hispanic gangbanger.
Sitting back in our chairs we watched as the young man walk over to Iris’ table. We couldn’t hear what he said but we watched as he tapped Iris’ boyfriend on the shoulder, said a few words and then made a slashing motion across his throat before returning to his table. When he got to our table Brian gave him a high five and asked what he said. With a smile the young man told us, “I told him, hey, you know Iris used to be my girl so you better treat her right or else. Then I walked away.”
We were laughing so hard as the young man sat back down and took his baby on his lap. A few minutes later Iris and her girlfriend returned to the table. I noticed that her boyfriend stood and held her chair out, something he hadn’t done before. Again we couldn’t hear the conversation but we could see that Iris noticed something was going on, then the moment came, the boyfriend turned towards us and pointed at the “old” boyfriend.
Iris barely saw the “old” boyfriend at the table next to us, she saw my son. The look on her face said so much. As she walked towards us she said my son’s several times, each time a little louder until she was practically screaming, Brian, when she reached our table. Brian was laughing out loud as Iris started pounding on his shoulder. “Why did you do that?” She asked as she turned and walked to her table.
Brian turned to the young man at the next table and asked, “so tell me, what did you say?” The young man was smiling, “I just said to him, you with Iris? The guy looked scared, but I’ll give it to him, he said yes. So I said, she used to be with me, you treat her right or else. Then I walked away. It looked like I did good.” By that time Brian and I were laughing so hard I dropped my wallet twice before I got cash out to pay both the checks. It was worth it and I thought we were going to settle down and finish our dinner. I was wrong.
Iris had returned to her table and she and her friends were once again talking and eating. Someone at the table had gotten a balloon from the hostess desk and next thing I knew I heard a loud crash as the balloon floated towards the ceiling and collided with one of the light fixtures, both the light fixture and the balloon broke. At the sound I looked around the restaurant and Iris and her friends were laughing while looking scared.
I focused on finishing my dinner but I was interrupted when my son started whispering and pointing. I looked in the direction he was pointing and saw two on duty police officers, in full uniform, waiting to be seated. What was he thinking? Would this evening never end?
Brian leaned over and whispered in Carli’s ear and she started laughing. A minute later Brian stood and approached the officers. While I couldn’t hear the conversation the body language told quite a story. First Brian was pointing at Iris’ table, then he and the officers were laughing. As Brian continued talking the officers first shook their heads then they began smiling. Finally one of them stood up from the table, pointed at Iris’ table.
A minute later we heard Iris exclaim, “what?” rather loudly. In the next breath we heard her shout, “BRIAN!!” The three of us were already moving towards the door, I turned and watched as Brian gave the officers a salute and waved at Iris. As the door closed behind us I saw the police officer return to his seat and Iris and her friends looked like they were pooling their money to pay the bill. After all that excitement I was ready to hit the road and return to my quiet house and bed.

While on a “boys” road trip a few years ago my son and I visited Las Vegas. Having lived in Las Vegas for years we didn’t go there for the gaming or other “adult” entertainment. We went to visit family members and see the hotels which had been constructed since we had moved from there several years earlier. After a day of visiting with different family members we took a break from family and spent the next day walking up and down the “Strip”, looking at things such as the “Eifel Tower” in front of “Paris” and the New York “skyline” in front of “New York, New York”.
We did not enter most of the casinos being aware that most casinos are the same inside and on the gaming floor. Instead we were looking at the non-gaming features at the newer hotels. After walking down one side of the street we started up the other side and quickly found ourselves in front of the “Bellagio”. As we walked across the front of the property we stopped and looked at the fountains . What a thing of beauty! Finally we walked inside, not to look at the casino floor but to look at the different interior decorations and accommodations.
One of the things we decided to look at was the conservatory. Upon entering this area of the hotel we were struck by the domed skylight made up of leaded glass which allowed sunlight in to a series of beautiful gardens lining the large room. On one side of the room was a large grand staircase which appeared to go to at least the second floor.
On that particular day the staircase was occupied by a large wedding party, actually half the wedding party. At the top of the staircase stood the bride in her beautiful white gown. Down the staircase stood her bridesmaids, all in their gowns. There must have been at least fifteen bridesmaids. The photographer was taking pictures of the bride and her court. Standing around behind the photographer was the groom and, some of, his groomsmen.
Looking at the bride it was not obvious that she, and her bridesmaids were of Hispanic descent. However, when we looked at the groom and his groomsmen there was no question that this was a Hispanic wedding party. While the bride and her bridesmaids were dressed in beautiful classic gowns, the groom and his groomsmen were all dressed in matching “zoot” suits complete with flat brimmed hats and watch chains which hung down to their knees. It was quite a sight. In contrast to the tailored suits worn by the groom and his groomsmen were visible tattoos on the necks of many of the men as well as on their hands and forearms.
My son and I were struck by the pomp and grandeur of the setting and wedding party especially as it was contrasted with the appearance of the groom and his groomsmen. As we watched, the photographer finished with the bride and her bridesmaids and his assistant called for the groom and groomsmen. In a flurry of activity and noise the groom and his contingent traded places with the bride and hers. As the groom settled in his place at the top of the staircase we could see the groomsman closest to him looking around the room, counting, making sure everybody was present. Suddenly he frowned and I could see him begin counting again. As this was going on I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
Moving my head slightly I caught sight of two groomsmen running into the room clutching their hats in their hands. As my son turned and saw them he stifled a laugh. He later told me you could almost see the smoke rings around their head and the smell of marijuana followed them into the room. Because my son was still a college student I didn’t bother asking him how he knew what marijuana smells like. As the men all got into place we decided it was time to move on to the next hotel. As we walked out of the conservatory we heard comments on both the beauty of the room and the interesting wedding party. Of course, one man said, quite loudly, “only in Vegas”!

Much like when I was a child, most weeks I find myself looking forward to the weekend after a week of work. Even in a semi-retired state of employment Saturday, the weekend, still takes on importance, it signifies freedom. Realistically, unless I am on a scheduled vacation, the weekend is an important and much needed respite from normal work days.
In order to take full advantage of the weekend I try to take care of maintenance items, mowing the lawn, and other household chores, during the week. The benefit of this is probably evident, even if I’m not going somewhere it gives me the option of sleeping in a later than I usually can during the week. But, I am always looking for the opportunity to take off and either do fun things or participate in service projects on the weekends. Sometimes, if I have everything in order, I’m able to take weekend trips by leaving after work on Friday and returning on Sunday afternoon or evening. While I know it can be done I prefer not to take long trips, like Hawaii or the east coast, during a weekend jaunt. Weekends are perfect for trips to the coast or exploring things such as San Francisco, the Napa Valley and other locations within a few hours drive.
The older I get the more I want to take advantage of the things that are so close to my home. From my front door I can be on a freeway in five minutes heading towards San Francisco just two hours away. About an hour away, on the road to San Francisco, I can turn off the freeway and catch the highway to either the Napa or Sonoma valley, wine country.
Weekend trips to these locations are different than business trips during the week. If I have to go to San Francisco during the week, for business, I am most likely going to drive to the nearest BART station, park my car and ride BART, the subway, into San Francisco. This is possible because my business trips to San Francisco are for a specific purpose at a single location and almost always within a short walk of a BART station. I have found that this has many benefits. One is financial, a round trip to San Francisco’s financial district costs less than ten dollars. That means that I don’t pay the six dollar toll for crossing the Bay Bridge from Oakland/Berkeley to San Francisco. I also don’t pay for parking which ranges from at least ten dollars if I can find a space on the street or in an open air lot to thirty-five dollars in a parking garage. The other benefit is that on the train ride I can either review my material or even sleep while not worrying about parking and traffic.
On the weekend traveling to San Francisco I may not take my car either. One option which I enjoy is the ferry from Vallejo, a city just before the BART station. This combines a boat ride across the bay with the savings of money and stress from not having a vehicle to worry about. I can also do the same thing I do during the week and take BART. I have found that just about anything I want to see or visit in San Francisco is accessible by public transportation.
One weekend several years ago we unintentionally tested, and proved, the viability of public transportation. While talking one night we discovered that neither my wife nor any of my children had ever ridden a subway or a trolley car. My children especially expressed interest in doing so. After a little research we headed out one Saturday with a little cash and a city guide we started our adventure. We drove to the BART station where we were able to park our car for the day at no charge. Entering the station we stopped at the automated ticket dispenser and bought a round-trip ticket for each of us. While our youngest daughter was quite concerned when we went underground, our older children thought it was fun that we were riding a train under the bay.
We left the BART train at Union Square and climbed up the stairs into what seemed like the middle of the square just in time to catch our next ride, a trolley car. We watched the motorman turn the trolley around as bought our tickets and waited to hear him say, “All aboard!” He didn’t have to call any of us twice, we quickly found our seats, facing out on the street side of the trolley. Soon we were traveling across the city. Climbing up so slowly we could almost walk faster, and then racing downhill so fast we had to hold on tight. I lost count of the number of stops along the way but we passed through Chinatown and other neighborhoods before ending our ride near Pier 39 on Fisherman’s Wharf.
For the next few hours we walked around Fisherman’s Wharf exploring the piers and shops. After a fast food lunch we watched street performers and through crumbs to the seagulls. Finally, as sun started to set, we found the municipal bus stop and rode it to the Embarcadero BART station. We climbed down into the station and boarded the next train to the station where our car was parked. The ride back from the city was very quiet as our children fell asleep with the rhythm of the train. It was dark by the time we exited the train and found our car. Although they all walked from the train to the car our children were once again asleep by the time we were on the freeway home.
In the years since that trip to San Francisco our children have talked fondly about that adventure. We have never tried to duplicate that trip although we have recently started talking about recreating it with our grandchildren. One of these days…

Each day I am reminded by statements made by two of my uncles, both of them are my father’s younger brothers. The first was made by the younger who asked me one day why was I going to law school. My response was that as I was getting older I thought I ought to have a grown-up career in case I grow up one day. My uncle’s response was that he had decided to never grow up. He meant that, and until the day he died he tried to find fun in all that he did and not take himself, or life, to seriously.
My other uncle and I were talking one day and I commented on some new project he was involved in, something just a little silly, but fun. Without hesitation, he looked me in the eye and said, "it’s never to late to have a happy childhood."
With those two statements in mind I have made a conscious effort to live my life. Recently my son-in-law reminded my five year old grandson that although I don’t always act like an adult, I am an adult and my grandson is to listen to me and obey me when go places together.
I would like to pretend that I don’t know what my son-in-law is talking about but it wouldn’t work. Just yesterday I tried out my latest toy. It’s a motorized soft foam dart gun. It holds 20 darts and shoots them all the way across our living room. That’s all the further I’ve tried shooting them so far. It actually comes as a 2 gun set, what fun is to just have one gun when you can have 2 and shoot them at each other. After seeing me shoot our youngest daughter last night my wife suggested that we go visit our grandchildren this week and open fire with the darts when they open their door.

Almost every day I am reminded that I need to be better about posting updates. I am trying to be better about it but I know that it seems to hit and miss.

So today I’m trying to update all ongoing projects. First, D(x)4, our quartet, is currently on hold, or they say in some circles "hiatus". This is not entirely by choice. Daniel has strep throat, Darrell has shingles and Dwight lost his job. Strange to think that I am the unaffected, and uninfected, one in the group. Of course Daniel is also my webmaster so his sickness has delayed completion and launch of the website davidlsullivan.com. So, while we continue to identify music to work on all recording is on hold until further notice.

Just because we’ve had to slow down our plans for our music don’t think I’m sitting around doing nothing. After years of kicking all kinds different ideas around I am finally working at several of them. This week I am in the process of launching a new idea and related product line. It is a brainchild born of thinking how to market different books and other original works. So, within the next month or so, mid March I hope, the website will be up and you will be able to find apparel from the "Channel Islands Navy©". The history of this is another story that I’m not going to tell right now. Our logo, and related photos are included in this posting.

Of course I am working on other projects. Nothing else at a point that I’m willing to share. But I will share as each idea and project has progressed to the point that I think it’s ready for public view.

As we approach the end of the year 2009, I have been reflecting where we have been, what we have accomplished and what we still need to accomplish. In doing so I have determined that 2009 has been a pretty good year. I still have a house, I’m still working and I haven’t had to take any family members into my house or otherwise support them. In light of things I have seen, we all have probably seen, happening in the world this year, not a bad situation.

Having said things are good doesn’t mean they could be better. I have come to realize that when you start thinking things couldn’t get, or worse, something will happen to show you how wrong you are. For someone like me that is rarely a problem.

Almost every day I get a new idea for things to explore, develop and/or market. If you stop and think about it the possibilities are endless. I mean according to a blurb I saw last week the "Pet Rock" was one of the top Christmas gifts the first year they came out. They were nothing more than a rock with some paint and maybe some eyes and hair stuck on them. So if people will buy painted rocks they will buy almost anything.

As I have talked with several people about developing different projects, the big question is not financing. Now I know that sounds like we must be independently wealthy and have the means to just jump into projects. That is not the case. Yes, I am currently working with a group that individually are all working and able to provide for their immediate needs and put a little aside. As a group that means when we combine those assets we can accomplish a lot.
So, if the big question is not financing you may ask why aren’t our products readily available on the market? The big problem is follow-through. As has been pointed out to me, and others, we are often so involved in the day - to - day business of making a living that we are often not able to accomplish those things beyond basic survival. That’s the position I keep finding myself in. So, for the moment I keep making notes of the ideas and things I am working on, and little by little I am accomplishing some of the projects that I have been writing about for the last while.
In the next year I hope to be able to write here and announce the launch of our website, it is under construction and is found at www.davidlsullivan.com. That site will be the source of all our projects and will hopefully, in 2010, be an interactive community.