Scott Menke, a well-known and much loved Las Vegas gaming entrepreneur, died far too young earlier this month. His cousin, partner and biggest supporter, Diana Bennett, remembers Scott in a way only family can. I am happy to carry her remarks in this space so that our readers will know a bit more about a good and caring man. Diana’s father was longtime gaming pioneer Bill Bennett who, like Scott, cared deeply about the people of this city.
— Brian Greenspun
When I think about Scott Menke, my mind wanders from our first meeting to our very last one. Both were memorable, and both will continue to shape my life along with innumerable others of Scott.
From a very early age, it was clear Scott was someone special. I met him at a lake in Arizona when he was 4 and I was 18. His mother, Linda, is my cousin, and her family asked me to join them for a day at the lake. Scott wrapped his little arms around my legs for the entire day and never let go.
His entrepreneurial spirit showed in his childhood. His father owned a mortuary, and Scott would take the leftover flowers from the services to a nearby convenience store and sell them for 50 cents a stem. That lasted until his father dropped by that store and caught him in the act.
As Scott grew older, his world became larger as he was often asked to assist his great-grandmother, my grandmother, on the various trips that my father would send her on. Traveling in an executive jet at 15 and staying in presidential suites made Scott decide very quickly that being in the hotel business might be a better way to earn a living than the mortuary business. But with Scott, it wasn’t the fancy hotels or private jets that made him go. He loved his great-grandmother and truly took great care of her.
This was a pattern of his life. On the one hand he was a visionary — a trait I am quite certain came from the Bennett side. He dreamed big and loved being able to see dreams come true. Who but a true visionary could look at the worn-down Riviera and imagine how it could be turned around? He was pragmatic as well, and that showed in the way he operated the business.
He easily spotted where money was being wasted in purchasing, inventories, bar pours, lack of gaming controls and so forth.
We turned around the Riviera and other properties. Along the way, Scott gave of himself in so many other ways.
His heart was truly bigger than his wallet; there simply will never be a better friend, cousin, boss and philanthropist.
Reading the notes I have received over the past couple of weeks has reinforced my knowledge that he was known and loved around the world. And the notes all express the same sentiment:
“He was my best friend, my older brother. He was so much more than a best friend.”
“His passion is such a loss to the community.”
“He was one of a kind and I thought of him as such a dear friend.”
“I am without words, only sadness and grief.”
“Scott was a male Tinker Bell. He knew when to pull away from shady people and had pixie dust that made everything better. Sadly he now has angel wings.”
Everyone he met quickly became a friend, and if they needed anything he took care of it without hesitation.
He’s been by my side most of my adult life and was one I reached out to whenever I was in need.
He was also the one everyone reached out to for fun times. He could do it all: plan the party, attend, and leave around 9 p.m. to go home and go to bed, never saying goodbye. I’ve lost count of how many young people celebrated their 21st birthday in a special way because of “Uncle Scott.”
His touch remains in the lives of those who knew him, worked for him and loved him.
A dear friend sent me a note about Itzhak Perlman, who at the very beginning of a concert broke a string on his violin. Everyone expected Perlman to get another string to fix his violin, which for Perlman would have been quite an ordeal considering he wore braces on his legs and took them off prior to performing. But Mr. Perlman nodded to the conductor to begin the piece again and made music with just three strings — something everyone knows should have been impossible.
So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with what we have and then, when that is no longer available, to make music with what we have left.
That is what Scott would want us to do.