STATE GETTING A GOOD LOOK AT GAMBLING

The innocence or guilt of House Speaker Bob Griffin aside, Missourians are beginning to get a better look at the new industry they have admitted to their state. This new resident of the Show-Me State is a vast conglomerate of individual corporations, with headquarters in New Jersey, New York, Nevada and California, that cater to the human desire for easy money through an assortment of games running the gamut from poker to roulette.

This is no small business. The annual profits of these large gambling companies run into the billions of dollars, and such money permits these companies to exert a vast amount of influence and power in every area in which they operate. Missouri has just had its first small taste of this power and influence, and persons who believe it will be our last taste are deluding themselves. The main course is yet to come.

Thus far our new residents haven't been too happy with the neighborhood. A gaming company spokesperson recently complained that Missouri is a hick state with no appreciation for all the benefits to be gained from his company's expertise in business. An apologist for the industry said the other day that Missouri had done everything wrong in accommodating the industry, despite the fact that the gaming companies have been calling the shots, as long ago as the November 1992 vote on Proposition A. If mistakes have been made, and certainly there have been some doozies in the last couple of years, their origin has been in the corporate boardrooms of the industry, since hundreds of Missouri's elected officials have fallen all over themselves in an attempt to appease gambling interests.

When voters, by an overwhelming majority of 62 to 38 percent, approved Proposition A, they made a conscious decision to embrace what society has always considered to be a morally debilitating pursuit. The scriptures of every major religion in the world warn against and prohibit gambling, recognizing that games of chance create victims who must pay a price for their losing. Over a number of years, society has also recognized that some pursuers of easy money become victims in another way, through an addiction called compulsory gambling. The disasters caused by losses that wipe out family savings and deprive innocent persons of life's necessities, coupled with compulsions that consume participants, make gambling a deadly practice ranking alongside alcohol and drug addiction.

By accepting the often exaggerated claims of gaming firms, Missourians said they preferred this societal cancer to the pain attached to higher taxes, despite the fact our state has one of the lowest per capita tax rates in the nation. The prevailing logic seemed to be anything-but-taxes, and so nearly two-thirds of the voters invited gamblers to join them in the pursuit of easy profits and easy revenue.

To assure this invitation, gaming companies began spending millions of dollars in Missouri to influence the 1992 referendum and to contribute to political campaigns in areas where friends were needed. One St. Louis-connected gaming firm became the largest single contributor to a Democratic primary candidate for governor, and when he lost, the big-spender changed sides as easily as a high roller pulls the lever on a slot machine. The gaming operator was looking for friends, not better government. He and his contemporaries became the sugar daddies of political candidates all over the state, not for the benefit of the state as a whole but to assure still greater concessions and influence in city halls and the state capital.

It didn't take long for the political world to recognize the vast benefits of big-spending gaming corporations. Not only were they willing to finance political campaigns, these companies provided an opportunity for local pols and their families to enjoy a small percentage of the vast profits realized from gambling. We quickly had local interests attaching themselves, like leeches, to the gaming corporations, offering their political clout in exchange for a small investment. Most Missourians pretended not to notice, despite the obvious threat to local and state governments.

Things started to go sour when the Missouri Supreme Court pointed out that Proposition A did not rescind the prohibitions against games of chance in the state Constitution. Despite this roadblock, most of our public servants in Jefferson City fell all over themselves in an effort to accommodate the gaming industry. While taxpayers had already financed one election and had seen their tax dollars spent for other state activities to establish gambling, still another taxpayer-funded election was held, with the results of this one pointing up the disillusionment by voters with gambling and its promoters. Now a third one will be held on the second anniversary of Proposition A, permitting games of chance to be offered on riverboat casinos. The vote is being held at the demand of the gaming corporations, who insist they cannot and will not continue to operate in Missouri unless they can place slot machines on their riverboats. This is the grant-my-wish-or-else syndrome.

This insistence is interesting, and indicative. It seems that slot machines, which are manipulated by the casinos to favor the house and provide the highest rate of profit, are really all the gambling industry wanted when it came to Missouri. Without them, the riverboats will sail away, unable to provide enough profit to satisfy their owners. Since mindless gambling is the only part of the industry that is really profitable, we now know casinos will only stay around if they are guaranteed huge winnings which they can exclusively control.

If the November amendment is approved, we will soon have demands from casino operators to stop riverboat cruising, since it adds to the cost of operation and reduces profits. Once this is granted, Missouri will undergo the same demands as were recently granted by the state of Iowa: elimination of the individual loss limit. Casinos in our neighboring state forced public officials to rescind the individual loss limit, threatening to leave unless their demands were met. Where have we heard that before?

Gaming corporations have already taken over Jefferson City, which jumps when the operators say jump. Missourians have yet to recognize their new residents are running the neighborhood. Bolt your doors, folks, the burglars are here.

Jack Stapleton of Kennett is a veteran journalist whose Missouri News & Editorial Service columns keep tabs on Jefferson City.