How is it that Massachusetts, one of the most gambling-crazed states in the country, is now one of the last holdouts against casinos?
As the casino debate heats up again this spring on Beacon Hill, here are some possible answers to this perennial question, none of them appetizing:
A: An epic case of legislative incompetence
B: Nefarious lobbying by competitors, legal or otherwise, hoping to keep Massachusetts casino-free
C: Generous helpings of both A and B.
I’d say C is most likely, with both Beacon Hill bumbling and backroom power plays by competitors both contributing to one of the oddest – and at more than two decades, longest-running – state legislative stalemates around.
As developer David Nunes, who wants to build a casino in Boston’s outer suburbs, recently told me: “Everyone wants it, and everyone wants it now, but unfortunately, everyone wants it on their own terms.”
If you are inclined to see pure legislative incompetence here, well there is certainly much to gawk at on that front. Frankly, it’s hard to imagine a bigger mismatch between what the public wants and what ends up happening at the State House.
Getting Out Of Their Own Way
Massachusetts gamblers have helped finance the rise of two of the largest casinos in the world – Mohegan Sun and Foxwoods, both in neighboring Connecticut – while spending more money per capita on lottery tickets than any other state in the country.
Poll after poll has shown majority support for expanded gambling. The latest one by UMass Dartmouth’s Center for Policy Analysis found 55 percent in support of three casinos, with just 23 percent outright opposed. Casinos had majority support of every major demographic and political group – including from non-gamblers.
Even the labor movement – a fountain of cash and foot soldiers for the state’s Democratic Party – is pushing this as well.
But legislators on Beacon Hill can’t bring themselves to do what Bible Belters in Mississippi and Louisiana did years ago. They just can’t get out of their own way, willing to let a deal collapse as they battle behind the scenes to bail out some hapless racetrack owner or settle personal vendettas.
Just take last summer’s casino bill fiasco.
After years of frustration, casino backers finally thought they had a winning hand. All three top state leaders – Gov. Deval Patrick, House Speaker Robert DeLeo and Senate President Therese Murray – were in favor of expanded gambling. The fact that all three were Democrats seemed pure gravy.
But it turned out to be the gang that couldn’t shoot straight. No one managed to hold hearings until a month or so before the legislative deadline, leaving too little time to negotiate.
Despite big majority votes in the House and Senate, the bill collapsed when Patrick and DeLeo took to quarreling over whether to put a few hundred slot machines at local racetracks, one small piece of a bill that envisioned thousands of these machines at a trio of new casinos.
The last big push before that, in 2007, was possibly as inept, if not more. Patrick spent months building public support to legalize three resort casinos, but skipped town the day of the big legislative hearing to sign a book deal in New York.
While the bill was in trouble – then-House Speaker Sal DiMasi was a gambling opponent – Patrick’s actions essentially sealed the fate of what had been a top legislative priority.
Elusive Fingerprints
Of course, there’s always the possibility of darker forces at work here than just political bungling by Massachusetts Democrats, dulled as they may be after years of effectively running a one-party state. After all, who has benefited the most from having Massachusetts sit on the sidelines as state after state across the country has rushed to legalize casino gambling?
Certainly, casinos and racinos in neighboring Rhode Island and Connecticut, who rely heavily on the dollars spent by Massachusetts gamblers, have much to lose. More than a few reporters have looked at this one over the years, but nothing conclusive has ever surfaced one way or another.
But what about the mob? OK, we are getting into murkier territory here, but there is a large, illegal gambling industry here the state, with hundreds if not thousands of slot machines tucked into dingy backrooms and bars. A whole bunch of illegal gambling rackets would be dealt a devastating blow should Massachusetts make casino gambling legal.
There’s certainly a motive here, but again the fingerprints – if they are even here to begin with – are even harder to trace.
So take your pick as to whether it’s incompetence or hidden corruption that is keeping casino legislation bottled up in Massachusetts. But I can tell you one thing this is not about – morality.
The two biggest casino foes the Bay State has ever seen also happen to be the most ethically challenged. Former House Speaker Thomas Finneran spent years skewering gambling bills. He left to run the Massachusetts Biotechnology Council but was later forced to resign after pleading guilty to a federal obstruction of justice charge related to his role in a round of legislative redistricting.
His successor, Sal DiMasi, railed against the dangers of opening up our pristine, innocent New England state to “casino culture.” Sal, of course, stepped down under a cloud and is now facing a slate of federal corruption charges. It does make you wonder how genuine the former House speaker’s concerns over expanded gambling were, and how much of it was just more byzantine, Massachusetts-style political gamesmanship.
Of course, we are to believe that even as he was allegedly helping to steer a big state contract to a local tech company, Sal was lying awake at night, consumed with worry about the moral dangers of casino gambling.
Ah, such are the mysteries of the never-ending debate over casino gambling here in Massachusetts, where nothing is ever really as it seems.
