Self-righteousness, it has been said, is its own reward. It’s certainly all the consolation that gambling foes as ideologically varied as former Nebraska governor Pete Ricketts, billionaire Warren Buffett and Rep. Tom Osborne (R) have. After all, their prognostications of increased crime if the Cornhusker State legalized racinos have come to naught. This is a predictable dynamic. The anti’s are always predicting criminal gloom and doom around casinos and it rarely, if ever, comes to pass. For this we have to thank BIg Gaming, and its paranoid fear of its customers and employees. Gambling houses are hot zones of security cameras and Paul Blarts, intent on catching someone taking advantage of the house. It’s an effective deterrent to criminal activity, especially when augmented by the police prowl in the area.
Case in point: WarHorse Casino near Lincoln. In its first year of operation, crime has been a “non-issue” for the cops. “Every month, I get a printout of calls for service that we have down there,” said Capt. Pete Scheinost. “I’m amazed every month because it’s not what I expected. It’s lower than what I envisioned.” He anticipated more, perhaps far more, than the 78 minor incidents that have result in the constabulary getting called to WarHorse. Compare that with Bryan West Campus, to which Lincoln police were summoned 1,425 times or the Walmart that engendered 386 police calls in the same year. “It’s low calls for service. [WarHorse] have good staff. They handle their business. And it’s really a non-issue for the Police Department,” the police captain told the Journal-Star.
This peacefulness stands in stark contrast to the apocalyptic future painted by casino foes like loony Pat Loontjer. “We have seen the devastation that comes with gambling: addiction, crime, divorce, embezzlements and even suicides,” she wailed back in early 2020. (Loontjer left out dogs and cats living together.) One could also credit the proactivity of the Nebraska Racing & Gaming Commission, which gave WarHorse a tutorial on human trafficking and disordered gambling a year ago. As far as we can tell, Nebraska’s gaming industry is doing a good job.
Missouri police are trying to enforce state law by shutting down black-market slot machines. And the purveyors of the illegitimate devices have a problem with that. In fact, they even had the nerve to ask the courts to stop it. Torch Electronics wanted Cole County Circuit Judge Daniel Green to unilaterally rule their devices legal, a sweeping move that would juice Missouri‘s entire black-market slot biz into legitimacy. Green was unmoved, responding “I don’t think the court system is the right place to have these issues worked out,” en route to quashing the lawsuit. What Torch and accomplice Warrenton Oil wanted Green to decree was that playing an electronic device for a possible cash payout was somehow not gambling. What sauce, as the Brits would exxclaim.
Torch is not currently facing legal action from the state. Should it do so, Green continued, that would be the proper forum for litigating the legality of its machines. As the state’s hired gun, Scott Pool, put it, a declaratory judgment “is not a cure for all the ills, real or imagined, you may have.” Pool was called in after state Attorney General Andrew Bailey was found to be tainted with Torch money, having taken $14,125 in campaign contributions from PACs affiliated with a Torch lobbyist. This wasn’t a win for the legal gambling industry, though. The Missouri Gaming Association, representing Show-Me State casinos, urged Green to outright rule that Torch’s machines enjoy no legitimacy. Green wasn’t biting. Citing “nuances,” Torch’s lawyers vowed to appeal. The casinos have yet to decide.
Backers of a casino project slated tentatively for Richmond, Virginia, are doing a full-court press on the city, hoping that 2023 is their lucky year. Both Urban One and Churchill Downs have dropped at least $8 million into their campaign to sway a sharply divided electorate. It’s literally a black-and-white issue. As in, Black neighborhoods overwhelmingly support the casino, white ones do not. Churchill Downs’ deep pockets won’t necessarily win the day, as opponents were heavily outspent two years ago but still prevailed. But NIMBY voters don’t play well with the African-American inhabitants of Southside, where the $562 million Richmond Grand Casino & Resort would go.
“As an African-American male, I have a problem hearing white people say ‘this is not good for Black people, this is not good for poor people,’” fumed City Council member Michael Jones. “That’s a very paternalistic view and perspective.” Huffed local politician Allan-Charles Chipman in response, “there are more equitable ways to develop Southside. I don’t feel good that developers go to the bargaining table, but somehow Southside has to go to the blackjack table.” Wah-wah-wah. Still, Truist Securities analyst Barry Jonas recently visited Richmond and seems to think Urban One/CHDN will prevail this time around.
Somewhat more concerning than Chipman’s strictures is the way that charitable-gambling entreprenuer Good Lions got cut out of litigating the November vote. “It’s sort of circular logic because, first of all, we weren’t a potential bidder because it was a no-bid contract—nobody was a potential bidder,” complained state Sen. Chap Petersen (D). “We’re a business in the City of Richmond, we should have as much standing as anybody else.” Indeed, this whole thing has been juiced for Urban One from the beginning, which is the most valid reason for opposing it, if one does.
Paradoxical Phenomena Dept.: “Arizona is making less from sports betting than expected”—Fox 10 Phoenix
“Arizona and Las Vegas: The thriving hub of online sports betting”—Las Vegas Optic
That wannabe casino in Florida, otherwise known as Trump Doral, is hosting a QAnon-promoting event called the ReAwaken America Tour. This hootenanny of Bible thumpers and snake-oil salesmen might cosset some interesting views about gambling and its role in the alleged decline of our great country. The Doral hoedown has been described as “a blasphemous stew of baptisms, praise music, election denial, and anti-vaccine lies.” What can we say? Gaming makes for strange bedfellows.