The Prospectors’ Club Tumbles to a New Location

The first gentlemen’s clubs, most established in London from the late 17th century onwards, were highly exclusive, offering aristocratic and wealthy men a refuge from work and family. The eligibility of potential members depended on their class and genders, with women banned.

Once upon a time, Reno's elite could find refuge in The Prospectors’ Club - a hallowed bastion where the privileged few, we imagined, gathered to smoke cigars, compare stock portfolios, and lament the presence of womankind. Ah, those were the days! The club was formed in Reno in 1947 and was a who’s who of elite males; bankers, politicians, community leaders, casino owners, philanthropists, CEO’s, publishers, etc. were all members.

In 1988, that pesky United State Supreme court upheld Local Law 63, opening club memberships up to women across the board, due to the banding together of a group who call themselves the New York State Club Association, and sued the city, won, and oops now women were allowed to join these exclusive clubs across the county.

In Reno, The Prospectors’ had kept women out until those fun-sucking feminists went and ruined their testosterone-fueled paradise by winning the right for women to infiltrate these sacred spaces. Thanks for nothing, Supreme Court!

But The Prospectors’ weren't going down without a fight. This old boys' network clung fiercely to their prestigious digs - swanky spots fit for master-of-the-universe power lunches. At least, they did until their latest residence gave them the boot faster than a debutante crashing into a frat party.

After abruptly vacating their throne at the Eldorado, the exalted gentlemen and ladies, landed at the Nevada Museum of Art's Nightingale SkyRoom. But to their horror, when the SkyRoom was booked for a wedding, art opening, or special event, The Prospectors’ had to head downstairs to share dining space with the great unwashed public. Did the Founders envision such indignities?

Alas, those plebeian trifles were but a pit stop. Brasserie Saint James awaits as The Prospectors' next lair, because nothing screams "old money" like setting up court at the former Crystal Springs Icehouse where you could put a few quarters in a machine and go home with jugs of water. Self-serve water. At least there's plenty of parking for the estate Bentleys!

But what happened to finding The Prospectors’ a suitably exclusive new home. Developer Par Tolles attempted a daring rescue mission to deliver The Prospectors’ from the indignity of having to rub elbows with the Great Unwashed and have their very own Prospectors’ Room, shared with no one.

Tolles boldly set out to scout a lavish new sanctuary - one uncorrupted by the common folk. Rancharrah was identified as a potential paradise, no doubt for its secluded opulence and plentiful hedge mazes to escape the everyday folk. Alas, Tolles' brave quest proved futile. The plan crumbled like an unsalvageable soufflé due to "unsustainably high construction costs." Or so the official line goes...

So dear members, shelve those watercolors of the club's next posh domicile, for the time being. The hierarchy at the club, while admitting the loss of Rancharrah was a setback, they are working on more permanent long term options. For now, the next stop, the former Crystal Springs Icehouse for sips and lunch, so very every day.

While the club's well-heeled brethren once gazed upon panoramic vistas at the Nevada Museum of Art, they'll now enjoy the sweet serenade of shopping carts being pushed to the Nevada Cares Campus. Ah, the lamentations of landed gentry forced to admit the homeless into their field of vision.