Wanna Bet?

Resplendent in County Limerick kilt and sporran, I spent the evening hours of St. Patrick's Day, and a goodly portion of the wee hours of Saturday, in and about several casinos in Atlantic City. I am Irish 365 days a year and had no desire to surround myself with the green beer drinkers, or worse, the 'yearly Irish.' So, although my only venture into gambling is a few dollars here and there for lottery tickets, or a friendly game of Texas Hold'Em at someone's house, I spent an enjoyable time amidst the bells, whistles, lights and sirens of A.C.'s finest. The kilt generated some interesting, and some not so interesting, conversations. I saw a couple bands, drank a few non-alcoholic beverages and, fully sated, came home. I adore casinos, in limited doses. That is why it may come as quite a shock to hear me say that the slots parlors soon to dot the Philadelphia landscape are an abomination and an evil incarnate. Organized 'gaming,' outside of areas created for it, like Atlantic City, Las Vegas and maybe a few of the Native American-run resorts such as Foxwoods, are a scourge on the population from which no good can come.

I grew up in New Orleans. As a high schooler I skipped class to go to the man-made, powder white beaches of Mississippi. Summer evenings I made the hour and a half drive, with a friend or two and our scantily clad teenage consorts, to frolic in the phosphorescent surf. Long Beach, Biloxi and Gulfport were then sleepy little towns, wholly dependent on the beaches for tourist dollars. Cheesy storefronts, selling sharks teeth and tie dyed t-shirts, competed with beautiful, antebellum style homes along the beachfront. It was somewhat backward, slow, and perfect as a respite from the city; at least for me. Now though those same beaches are littered with casinos. Huge monolithic, monstrosities proliferate up and down the coast. Originally, the law was written to say that only floating "river-boat style" casinos would be allowed. Nine zeroes in a corporate bank account cured that malady though. Of course, the ususal promises were made: property taxes will be lowered, schools will benefit and seniors will reap rewards. Property taxes have not gone down, student scores are still nearly last in the nation and, last time I checked, seniors were not rushing to embrace the Gulf Coast; except for when their assisted living communities organize bus trips that is.

The same thing was promised in New Orleans when Harrah's came to town. The blueprint was the same. A few "riverboats" would be allowed to dock for a while before they would be forced to set sail for a given amount of time. The result was predictable. The corporations realized they were losing money everytime they set sail, so the nine zeroes in the bank accounts once again made their presence known. Before you knew it, a landmark in New Orleans, The Rivergate, was being demolished for a giant casino, which would forever alter the city's brief skyline. The same promises of community assistance were made, and the same outcome was had. No relief was given to anyone. Well, that's not quite true. The most popular governor in recent Louisiana history, Edwin Edwards, received bundles of cash. A practice which, when $500,000 was discovered in his freezer, eventually sent him to federal prison, from where he is scheduled to be released in 2011. One of the principle owners of a profitable water-side casino, Edward DeBartolo, is said to have paid the governor hundreds of thousands of dollars to secure a gaming license. Mr. DeBartolo escaped jail by testifying, but was forced to divest himself of his controlling interest in the San Franciso 49ers.

What the casinos do not ever promise, but always deliver, is trouble. The crime rate immediately around the properties escalates. The local police become defacto security guards for the cash cows, but the price of their overtime still comes from the same place: you and me. Our taxes pay for cops to watch over the properties at the expense of other areas of town. Infrastructure has to be improved; roads widened, fences erected, and we foot that bill too. The promised tax relief never materializes because the new costs outweigh the old notices. Taxes go up, crime goes up, public assistance goes up and the city wonders how it got there. It is a fact of life that those least able to afford it are the biggest bettors. When the end of the month comes and there isn't enough money to pay the bills, no worries we'll go the casino and win the rent. The lower levels of society plug away hour after hour, and day after day, hoping against hope to win their way out of the hole they are ever deepening.

It is not all bad though. A handful of men will become obscenely wealthy. Usually a high-profile community leader is drafted to lend credibility to the endeavor. Here it is former 76ers President Pat Croce. He is a rock solid member of the community, and, by all accounts, a good guy. He is teamed with "The Donald" and no doubt believes that good will be done with the proceeds. Nothing could be further from thr truth. The money men's pockets, and a few of their politician friend's too, will be lined, both legally and illicitly. Some will walk away wealthy and some will walk away in cuffs, but in the end they will all walk away richer than they came. Don't get me wrong. I don't pity the poor and I don't hate the rich. Nor do I think it is the government's job to protect us from ourselves. What I do believe though, is that it is the government's job to promote the general welfare, while securing the blessings of liberty, neither of which is possible when you are shackled to the overwhelming monument of greed.