The Smart Money on Casinos

Patrick’s Potential Counterpunch

As clever a tactic as DiMasi’s stalling may be, it’s not one without an effective response. On January 23, Patrick will unveil his projected budget for 2009. And when he does, he could pencil in revenue from his proposed gaming license application fees (which could top $3 million) and the gaming licenses themselves (a minimum of $600 million, and likely more). A Patrick spokesman declined to comment on whether such a move was in the administration’s plans, but it would certainly issue a dramatic challenge to naysayers: If you don’t want casinos, fine. But you’ll have to come up with those millions somewhere else.

Even if Patrick decides not to include the casino booty in the 2009 numbers, the coming budget process still stands as his last best chance to swing the spotlight away from gambling’s bothersome social questions and shine it directly on the windfall his plan could pump into state coffers. After all, if people aren’t swayed by the prospect of lower property taxes and additional money for things like schools and road repairs, they aren’t going to be won over by the lure of $5.95 all-you-can-eat buffets.

They Got Bingo

While the Patrick-DiMasi conflict has simmered in the foreground, the state and the Mashpee Wampanoag tribe have been playing an equally intriguing game of cat and mouse in the background. It was, you’ll remember, the Mashpee who made the first move by announcing plans to open a casino on their federally recognized tribal land, where they wouldn’t have to pay state taxes. The governor parried by concocting his legislation, which was designed to keep the tribe under the state’s jurisdiction while offering them a faster, less complicated route to launching their gaming venture.

In hopes of snaring the Mashpee, Patrick included a clause in the bill stating that preference would be given to in-state Indian tribes during the bidding process. How that leg up will be factored in when formal proposals are evaluated is anyone’s guess. Still—due in large part to its vagueness—the clause practically jumps off the page and winks at the Mashpee, assuring them that if they want a state license, it’s theirs for the taking.

The tribe’s response has been to take the leverage and run with it. As they’ve yo-yoed between declaring exclusive focus on the federal option (to push the state to faster action) and assuring lawmakers that they are in fact still interested in bidding on a state license, Patrick has had little recourse but to simply hope the Mashpee buy his plan. But a looming ruling on an obscure federal regulation might be tipping the scales back in his favor.

Across the country, Indian tribes looking to open casinos have exploited a loophole in federal gaming rules that allows them to sidestep state laws barring slot machines. How? I’ll spell it out: B-I-N-G-O. By law, tribes are permitted to operate games, like bingo, that pit gamblers against one another—labeled Class II games—without state regulation. But to step up to most standard Class III casino fare (the more-lucrative slots, table games, etc.), they need to strike a deal with their home state. For years, savvy tribes who are unwilling or too impatient to play ball have gotten around that by opening parlors chock-full of so-called bingo slots, which are technically Class II machines but play like traditional one-armed bandits. Now, though, the National Indian Gaming Commission is working to slow the games down to play less like slots and more like your grandma’s favorite pastime. And since there’s scant demand in the state for any new bingo parlors, that could prove to be a leverage crusher for the Mashpee.

To read about the Indian-preference clause, go on to the next page...