Who cares?

Oct. 28, 2010

Dear Leslie,

Though our Puritanical roots resisted, in the middle of the 20th century Americans loved having a Sin City where anything went and Sinatra crooned "One for my Baby" far into the desert night. We just didn't want the hard-partying Rat Pack and mobsters in our backyards.

Then, confounded by voters' resistance to new taxes, governments figured out how to tax mostly poor people without calling it a tax. They introduced lotteries, and lotteries became popular. This year Missouri will spend $8 million in tax revenue just to advertise the state lottery.

At the end of the century the partnership between gambling and government began spreading through licensing casinos, a change made palatable in states like California by limiting licenses to Native American tribes. Guilt-free reparations. Midwestern states and gamblers sold gaming as a breezy recreational cruise on the Mississippi River. You could almost hear the calliope. Lawmakers soon dispensed with leaving the dock, arguing on the casinos' behalf that if the casinos make more money they will be able to provide more money for their supposed raison d'etre -- education.

Last month, Missouri's auditor disclosed that the additional money the schools were supposed to get when voters agreed to eliminate loss limits for gamblers two years ago wasn't going to the schools after all. The legislature simply took away some of the funding the schools were already receiving, so they aren't getting the extra revenue promised.

Between the gaming industry and government, who do we trust?

Tuesday those who vote in Cape Girardeau will decide whether to sanction gaming in the city. Our city government and those who are supposed to look out for the community's economic, social and physical welfare have welcomed the casino to town like a new-found benevolent uncle bearing multimillionish gifts. But that uncle isn't from here and is only offering the city money in exchange for the opportunity to fleece the region in entertaining ways.

If approved, the casino projects, 60 percent of its visitors will come from outside this immediate area. Some local retailers will benefit. But most of the rest of the revenue will be local discretionary dollars that would have been spent at other businesses. A local couple who leave $50 behind on a night out at the casino won't be spending that $50 somewhere else. Other established businesses will suffer. So will people desperate for a glimmer of luck.

My friends Julie and Lynn sometimes go to the casino in the town where they live in Northern California. They don't gamble but go for lunch because the food is good and cheap. I asked who else is there when she goes. "People who can't afford to be there," she said.

Casinos and the gaming commission worry about cannibalizing other casinos in the state but don't at all mind devouring anyone else. Last week a gaming consultant said a Cape Girardeau casino would cannibalize some revenue from an existing casino in nearby Metropolis, Ill., but joked, "and that's Illinois, so who cares?"

I care that by encouraging the partnership between gambling and government, we are selling ourselves. And we are selling ourselves short. We want gamblers to pay for fixing up the deterioration that has occurred in downtown Cape Girardeau because we haven't figured out how to do it ourselves.

Casinos are no longer owned by mobsters with secrets hidden in the desert. They're owned by shrewd sharks whose business is to ensure everyone else loses. Some downtown business owners have confided that they oppose the casino but won't say so publicly for fear of a backlash. They are afraid others in the community who welcome the casino would take it personally should the gaming proposition fail.

Millions are at stake for some. Also at stake is the kind of community we want to call home.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a former reporter for the Southeast Missourian.