Till The Well Runs Dry

By JEANNE MCDOWELL/LAS VEGAS

In Las Vegas the only sound that rivals the clink of coins is the rush of water. At the Mirage, a flashy hotel complex on the Strip, a cascading 39-ft.- high waterfall gushes 135 gal. per min. Fountains adorn the entranceways to banks, hotels and condominiums. Development communities market "waterfront living" on artificial lakes that sit like giant puddles in the middle of the Mojave. Even the names -- Montego Bay, Shoreline Estates, The Lakes -- reinforce the illusion that water flows abundantly in this desert oasis.

That image has fueled growth and filled the coffers of the world's most famous gambling mecca. But to people living in the surrounding rural counties, it is a symbol of the wastefulness and city-slicker hubris that have pitted them against Las Vegas in a bitter fight over the most precious resource in the West. Faced with a drought and a water shortage that threaten future growth, Clark County, which includes Las Vegas, has applied for rights to all the unallocated underground water within its boundaries and surrounding Nye, White Pine and Lincoln counties. It is one of the biggest attempted water grabs in Western history. If it succeeds, rural residents fear that Las Vegas' fortunes will grow while theirs dwindle. "If they control the water, no growth could happen without their approval," says Steve Bradhurst, a consultant hired by Nye County to organize the opposition. "They could seal our fate."

Officials at the Las Vegas Valley Water District insist that they had no alternative in 1989, when they filed 146 applications for water rights with the state engineer. Nevada's share of federally allotted water from the Colorado River cannot sustain growth in the booming oasis, which attracts 5,000 newcomers a month. Thirsty California, they argue, was positioned to jump in and stake a claim to the unused water. "It was our only Nevada source," says Pat Mulroy, general manager of the water district.

Opposing the huge project is an unlikely alliance of ranchers and farmers, rural politicians, environmentalists, Native Americans and federal agencies. More than 3,600 protests have been filed with the state engineer, who begins hearings in a few months. No one knows exactly what the long-term impact of pumping so much water -- Las Vegas has requested 200,000 acre-ft. per year (an acre-ft. is 326,000 gal., or enough to cover 1 acre with 1 ft. of water) -- will be on the complex hydrologic system of the area. Environmentalists say excessive pumping will dry up springs and wetlands, threatening numerous endangered species, plants and wildlife from southeastern California to Utah. The Federal Government plans to deny Las Vegas permits to drill or transport water across its land until an environmental-impact statement is prepared.

Even with the government's support, it will be a tough fight. Las Vegas is the seat of political and economic power in Nevada. Sixty-five percent of the state's 1.3 million people reside in Clark County. Development, gambling and tourism industries, which generate two-thirds of the state's income, want the extra water. "If we develop the water, and spend the money, shouldn't we have the control?" asks Clark County commissioner Paul Christensen.

Such sentiments echo an enduring struggle over growth between rural and urban communities throughout the West. Rural towns, which have watched political power shift steadily away from them -- Las Vegas controls 36 of the state legislature's 63 seats -- feel beleaguered and bypassed by urbanization. Taking water that flows under their land seems the final straw.

In divvying up water, Western experts say, noneconomic contributions must be taken into consideration. "How do you place a value on that student-body president from a small high school who becomes a U.S. Senator?" asks University of New Mexico law professor Charles DuMars. "How do you include that into some reasonable process? If it's raw power without process, people will die for that resource."

In Nevada the absence of such a process has sparked deep resentment among farmers and ranchers. "It's a whole way of life, a piece of history," explains Joe Higbee, who runs a 100-acre ranch in Alamo along with his son Vaughn.

One of the biggest complaints of rural residents is that Las Vegas has not done enough to save the water it has. Per-capita water consumption in the metropolitan area has consistently been among the highest of Western cities: 366 gal. daily compared with 200 gal. in Los Angeles. Recent restrictions have reduced Vegas' consumption to 343 gal.

While efforts at conservation have started to pay off, it is still practically a foreign concept in this city of green golf courses and lush lawns. Even if Clark County gets the water from its rural neighbors, it must seriously begin to plan for growth and the water shortages that are likely to worsen throughout the West in coming decades. If it doesn't, Las Vegas may be gambling its future away.