Editorial: When Is A Boat Not A Boat? When It Is A Casino

We are past the stage when we suffer upset stomach every time newspapers like the St. Louis Post-Dispatch announce the monthly "winnings" of the area gambling boats. In the true definition of winnings, how could we expect Post writers to consider that programmed (rigged) slots do not win anything? They just go about their job of automatically skimming off a very high percentage of the amount of money fed into them.

We might even have gotten to the point where we don't consider gambling "boats" newsworthy unless they sink—fat chance of that happening as many of them sit in moats—or burn down, get robbed, go bankrupt or get bought out by larger gambling establishments. After all, the people seem to favor the industry. At least the politicians (and they are people, aren't they?) do. It's another way to fatten state and city coffers, thus enabling them (politicians) to spend more freely and not be so restricted by budget considerations.

Yes, we might have considered our most recent column on gambling our last but for one thing. The Post provided in its December 31 issue a great history of the evolution of gambling in the St. Louis area. So once more we drag out the pen, put ink on paper so to speak, to remind readers that the camel did indeed get his nose into the tent and that the only portion of that questionable beast that remains outside is its tail. That is the smelly end, to be sure, but the portion that is in is already responsible for sufficient trouble. We are just a short leap from building a full-blown gambling casino in downtown St. Louis. While we don't normally consider Laclede's Landing as downtown, the site of an upcoming casino near the Edward Jones Dome is close enough.

Let us here and now credit the Post for the marvelous recounting of history that filled the December 31 issue. Except for any editorial, vitriolic comments we insert about the attributes of the gambling industry, readers can consider the historical portion of this column properly attributed to the hard-working reporters.

There was a time when organizations and individuals filled newspaper pages with their criticisms about the gambling industry. Now that gambling is longtime legal, we don't see much of that anymore. In the beginning, to get the camel's nose in the door—camels have no reverse gear, we've concluded—the casino industry agreed to (and government authorized) gambling on boats that actually cruised the rivers. We assume the purpose of those critics was to keep this insidious plague out of our neighborhoods and make the casinos not so handy. And so the gambling interests won. It was in 1991, the Post reminds us.

In 1994, when the President Casino opened on the "very-sinkable-if it-cruised" Admiral, the Missouri state government lifted the cruising requirement. Again, casino interests won. Not so surprisingly, there was both a good and bad side for the public. And there was a good and bad side for the towing industry.

First the towing industry. In a busy, constricted harbor like St. Louis, running cruise boats all hours of the day and into the hours of darkness posed a serious threat to the passengers. Sooner or later, we believe, one of those cruising boats would have experienced a serious mishap and thousands of passengers would have been endangered. Lest we forget, a tow did strike the President Casino, and it was determined that the casino would be required to build protective piers along the upper end of the Admiral. So much for that. They've never been built. But getting boats out of the navigation channel is the good side. The bad side is that the captains and crews that casinos were required to hire before they could cruise were no longer necessary. So jobs were lost.

As for the public, the bad side (and good side for gamblers) is that casinos became easier to get to. Joe Gambler could slip down to the boat before going home for dinner and lose a few bucks (or his shirt), and if he won, worry only about being mugged (or shot) in the parking lot or being followed home and robbed in his front yard. Life may have gotten more difficult for the rest of his family, but whether he lost his money during a cruise or playing slots on a moated boat makes no difference. Considering that casinos usually also include eating establishments, there is reason to believe that a few other similar businesses in the neighborhood have shut down. Even unrelated businesses where travelers used to spend their money found survival difficult if not impossible.

In March 1997, the Post again reminds us, gambling establishments were built on barges, which rested in basins connected to the Missouri River. One example is true of Harrah's Entertainment and Player's International in Maryland Heights, Mo. By the way, the same changes have taken place in numerous locations around the country, wherever gambling interests have acquired a foothold. Oops! We meant to say wherever the gambling-interest camel got its nose into the tent.

In March 1997, the Missouri Supreme Court ruled that casinos can only offer gambling "upon the Mississippi River and the Missouri River." The Post opined at the time that "casinos in moats might not be reauthorized when their initial two-year licenses expire."

Then in November 1998, Missouri voters approved a constitutional amendment permitting riverboat casinos in inland basins, provided they are within 1,000 feet of the main channel. That's handier than not cruising, better (some think) than having the casinos on Main Street, and still allows patrons to drive to and from with ease. With gas prices out of sight, that's a benefit, right?

Some may not recall that a few years ago an attempt was being made by a group of Native Americans to have a piece of East St. Louis land declared tribal land by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and thus be out of the reach of Illinois state or local governments. Part of the argument was the tribes are operating casinos all around the country. A good second argument, we think, was that having taken boats off the river, they might just as well be on Main Street. The old "red light districts" vanished for the most part a long time ago. The entrepreneurs of that trade had (and have) camels, too. Now they just work the night spots and street corners.

Here we quote the Post verbatim: In September 2004, "The Missouri Gaming Commission [picked] Pinnacle Entertainment to develop casinos on Laclede's Landing in downtown St. Louis and at Lemay in south St. Louis County. Both would float in manmade pools of water. The downtown casino would be near the top of the Landing, across from the Edward Jones Dome, as far from the Mississippi River as legally permitted."

Well, what else can we say other than, "How handy!"

Now, football fans who arrive late looking for tickets can get ripped off by scalpers before entering the dome, pay outrageous prices for refreshments inside the dome and get skimmed off when they visit the casino later. If they visit the casino first, they may not have enough left to attend a game at the dome. Either way, though, they can drop a lot of money.

Now that we have used the Post's report to show you how state and local government is so conscientious about "taking care of the folks," we will drop the issue and wait for the next report on "casino winnings" to float by. Oops! Did we say float?

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