Just over 30 years.
Until recently, Atlantic City has been an irresistible magnet for day-tripping gamblers. Centuries before that, mankind was already being lured to the marshy inlets and miles of beaches of Absecon Island, from which Atlantic City eventually arose. The original "resort patrons" were the Absegani Indians of the Lenni-Lenape Tribe, who repaired to Absecon’s shores during warm weather.
As with most good Native American ideas, this was soon appropriated by the white man -- along with the island itself. It was deeded by the British crown to Thomas Budd, circa 1680. At that time, beachfront was valued at four cents an acre. What casino developer wouldn’t give his eyeteeth to get that price today!
Absecon Island was first settled as a fishing village in 1790. The initial permanent structure, a log cabin, was built in 1785 where Arctic and Arkansas avenues now intersect. Over at Baltic and Massachusetts, one can stand on the spot where Aunt Millie’s Boarding House opened in 1838. This was the island’s first business venture, setting its destiny as a hotel-dominated municipality.
Hoteliers and railroad operators noticed that, along with an influx of dollars, tourists were tracking something else into the city’s fine establishments: sand, and lots of it. Rather than see their carpets ruined, they initiated the construction of a wooden promenade in 1879, precursor to today’s six-mile Boardwalk. From the Boardwalk extended a series of piers clustered with souvenir ships, circus freaks, nautical oddities, and specialty acts, like the horse and rider who dove 60 feet into specially constructed pool.
Atlantic City’s prosperity ended with World War II when the grand hotels were requisitioned as barracks. By 1946, air travel put Florida, Bermuda, and the Bahamas within easy reach of the tourist trade and history passed by Atlantic City. The population, which had peaked at 60,000 during the Great Depression, began to decline.
In 1974, gambling was seized upon as a "unique tool of urban development," and an amendment was proposed to the New Jersey Constitution that would open the state to casino development. The lack of an explicit limit on casino construction raised the specter of slot machines on every corner and –- although they were outspent by a 17:1 ratio –- casino opponents won at the polls, 60% to 40%.
Two years later, when the issue was revisited, the ground had shifted. New Jersey had instituted a state income tax in 1975 and a rejiggered version of the casino-enabling amendment appeared on the ballot. This one specified that casinos would be restricted to Atlantic City and that revenues derived therefrom would go to the state’s elderly and disabled. According to John Dombrink and William Thompson’s The Last Resort, "Quiet, tasteful, European-style casinos were promised" … somebody’s idea of black humor, maybe.
One of the major campaign donors was Resorts International, a company that only recently had been Matawan, N.J.-based Mary Carter Paint. As Michael Pollock recorded in an article for Shorecast magazine, "For the executives who headed the company, manufacturing paint was as exciting as watching it dry." Snapping up 3,000 acres in the Bahamas, the firm opened the Paradise Island casino in 1967 and repainted itself Resorts International the following year.
Resorts wanted to be on the ground floor of casino development along the Boardwalk, seizing on the old Chalfonte-Haddon Hall Hotel as its base of operations. Conversion proceeded swiftly and on May 26, 1978, singer Steve Lawrence baptized a new era in Atlantic City when he unleashed the inaugural crap roll at Resorts Casino Hotel.
Having opened far ahead of its competitors, Resorts had players waiting in lines that stretched for blocks. Grossing $600,000 per day, Resorts’ casino lifted the company’s profits 1,600% in its first year operation.
Meanwhile up and down the Boardwalk, the massive Gilded Age piles of the of the city’s old resort hotels were toppling (a process recorded in Louis Malle’s film, Atlantic City), the be replaced by the even more massive – and sometimes quite hideous – towers of Resorts’ competitors. As a dozen casinos rose, so did land values. In 1976, Atlantic City’s aggregate real estate was valued at $316 million; by 1988, that number had ascended to $6 billion. Fifteen acres of Marina District land, obtained for $37,000 in 1975, were resold as casino-zoned land for $20 million in 1980. Over the same period, visitation increased tenfold and 30,000 new jobs were created in 1978-1980 alone.
The arrival of casinos kept Atlantic City from declining into a ghost town – a fate that befell nearby Asbury Park. The seaside community has also weathered the advent of racinos in Delaware and tribal megaresorts in Connecticut. But the challenges continued to mount. After the 9/11 attacks, New York State approved an expansion of casino gambling. But the most serious inroads were made by racinos and "slot parlors" in Pennsylvania, which started opening in 2007. A brief ban on smoking in Atlantic City’s casino, although quickly revoked, did further damage.
Over the years, several venerable casinos have vanished from the landscape, including Trump Worlds Fair and the Sands. Others are struggling -- especially the former Resorts International. During the course of several ownership changes, it became the Atlantic City Hilton. Current owner Colony Capital encumbered it with a massive loan that the Hilton’s tiny revenue stream couldn’t support. After several months of mortgage payments were skipped, the former Resorts was in grave danger of being foreclosed.
The unequivocal success story of Atlantic City in the last decade has been the Borgata. Built by Boyd Gaming on land owned by MGM Mirage, it has been the clear market leader ever since it opened in mid-2003. Borgata also lit a fire under competing operators to upgrade their product. To this day, it is the standard by which all other Atlantic City casinos are measured.
