John Doe loves to gamble and, boy, does he have a lot of
choices in New Mexico. He can play Las Vegas-style slots, blackjack
and poker at 15 Indian casinos, buy lottery tickets at 1,100 outlets,
play the ponies and slots at five racetracks or gamble at more than 60
veterans and fraternal clubs.
Altogether, an estimated $3.9 billion will be wagered this year at
New Mexico casinos, racinos and clubs and on the state lottery.
It is a remarkable change from a decade ago when New Mexico
gambling was mostly bingo halls, struggling racetracks and some
fledgling Indian casinos operating outside the law.
First came the creation of a state-run lottery in 1995.
Then, on the slimmest of votes, lawmakers legalized casino
gambling on Indian lands, thus changing New Mexico's economic,
political and cultural horizon.
To level the playing field, the Legislature permitted racetracks
to install slot machines.
A decade ago, just eight tribes operated casinos, with a total of
about 1,800 slot machines and a net win of about $150 million a year.
At the state's four racetracks, attendance and betting were down
and track owners warned of layoffs and possible closures.
Today, New Mexico's gambling industry— tribal and non-Indian— is
flourishing.
As always, the house wins in the long run.
Gamblers in New Mexico are projected to lose nearly $850 million
this year— in a state that for the past decade has ranked among the
poorest in the nation for personal per-capita income.
A host of unknowns
There are some things we know about gambling in New Mexico.
For starters, it has helped some Indian tribes that were
desperately poor. Indian casinos and racetracks employ more than
10,000 people, and gambling generates tens of millions of dollars for
the state treasury as well as for scholarships for thousands of
students at New Mexico universities.
But there are some things we don't know, perhaps because we don't
want to.
There has been no
serious, independent attempt in recent years to gauge Indian
gambling's economic impact off the reservations.
There has been no
real state study on problem gamblers since the mid-1990s. There is
anecdotal evidence of foreclosures, bankruptcies, divorce and even
suicide. How do the benefits measure up against the social costs?
There is no way
for the public to know what, if any, state regulation of tribal gaming
is occurring. The process is cloaked in secrecy.
Does the gambling
lobby, flush with money, wield too much influence in Santa Fe?
Does the Lottery
have a disproportionate impact on New Mexico's poor?
Should
millions of dollars from the state's take of slot machines at the
racetrack/casinos be used to prop up the racing industry, or should
more go to needs like teacher pay and police?
Former Gov. Gary Johnson, who signed the historic gambling
legislation in the 1990s, said that under federal law he had no choice
but to negotiate with the Indian tribes and pueblos to expand gaming.
"Is it good for New Mexico? I think at best you can call it a wash
because, of course, there are lot of people adversely affected by
gambling. But then, on the positive side, it's good for tribes and
pueblos," Johnson said.
Others have a more negative assessment.
"I suspect if one took a poll in New Mexico ... by and large, the
Lottery would be very popular and gaming would probably have the
majority of citizen support," said former Democratic Gov. Toney Anaya.
"But we are not Nevada, and we can't have our economy based on
gambling. But because we don't have a lot of other economic
development in the state, we're eating ourselves up from inside."
The next wave
There may be more to come.
New racinos— the
term used for racetracks with slot machines— are being discussed in
Santa Fe, as well as Tucumcari and Raton. The two Eastern New Mexico
areas could use an economic shot in the arm and racino supporters hope
to draw money from neighboring states and travelers on the
interstates.
Santa Fe art
dealer Jerry Peters and Jemez Pueblo are proposing an off-reservation
casino along the Interstate 10 corridor between Las Cruces and El
Paso. The Fort Sill Oklahoma Apache tribe is interested in the same
area, and there were reports that Picuris Pueblo was, too. Any of
these would mark the first foray by a tribe into off-reservation
gaming.
Lottery
supporters may renew a push to boost sales by adding keno.
Rumors are
afloat that state compacts regulating Indian gaming will be
renegotiated, with some tribes hoping to offer complimentary hotel
rooms and other incentives to some gamblers.
There is concern about the tribes' use of a new class of gambling
machines that would reduce the state's revenue from tribal casinos.
And, some legislators are talking about opening the regulation
gates even wider as a way to level the playing field.
"The attitude is, 'Why not just let everybody have at it?' and
then we (the state) can get more revenues from it, or at least not
create a special class," said one state official.
'Keep it under control'
Albuquerque attorney Paul Bardacke represented former Gov. Bruce
King in fighting efforts by the tribes to legalize gaming in the late
1980s and early 1990s.
Now he represents Gov. Bill Richardson in compact-related talks
with the tribes.
Bardacke said expansion of gambling wasn't inevitable under
federal law. He said the state, under King, had prevailed on its legal
arguments in court battles to keep gaming at bay.
Bardacke said Richardson "inherited wide-open gaming throughout
the state of New Mexico," when he took office in 2003.
"My efforts on behalf of Gov. Richardson have been to try to keep
it under control, to keep it from proliferating to the extent that
it's unworkable for the state, and the Indian tribes and the
non-Indian gaming entities," Bardacke said.
Not surprisingly, King said he doesn't believe gaming has changed
the state for the better.
"I tried to tell everybody that we better not go with all that
gaming," he said recently. "You can't deny the jobs (it has created)
but I think there's other ways to create jobs is my feeling. The other
problem is where they get to have entirely too much influence in
policy."
After 40 years in public service, King lost his final re-election
bid in 1994 to the pro-gaming Johnson.
"I spent a long time trying to show progressive government and I
didn't want to be the one who brought gaming to New Mexico," King
said.
Johnson's election campaign received more than $244,000 from
gaming tribes. But he said recently his decision to sign the compacts
had nothing to do with the contributions.
"From day one, when I started running for governor, I said I would
sign off on compacts," Johnson said.
A better life
While many of the benefits and liabilities of gambling can be
debated, it has without question improved living conditions for some
of New Mexico's Native Americans.
Today, 13 tribes operate casinos in New Mexico— several offering
more than one location. Five more tribes may jump in over the next few
years.
"Our casinos are going to be bigger and better," said Charlie
Dorame, chairman of the New Mexico Indian Gaming Association.
Gaming tribes are trying to find ways to keep up with the
competition and become destination resorts to attract out-of-state
gamblers and their money.
Despite the economic progress on Indian lands, experts say there
is still a long way to go.
"This is still an incredibly poor population. ... Gaming is not
going to solve all of their underlying problems," said William Evans,
a University of Maryland economics professor studying the economic
impact of Indian gaming nationwide.
Dorame said members of gaming tribes aren't interested in getting
rich; they want to improve their communities.
For instance, 80 percent of the money for Tesuque's Head Start
program comes from casino revenue, said Dorame, former governor of
Tesuque pueblo and head of the pueblo's government relations.
"We're living in the same old mud and adobe homes but they have
new roofs.
"Two months ago the basketball court at the pueblo consisted of a
concrete slab with two goals," Dorame said. "The other night I played
basketball with my sons in the new $5 million intergenerational
center.
"I finally have a two-car family," he added, "but I still have a
one-car garage."
Change in direction
New Mexico's journey to widespread gambling was neither speedy nor
direct.
It essentially began in 1988 when Congress passed and President
Reagan signed legislation to permit Indian casinos.
In the years that followed, there were federal and state lawsuits
in New Mexico, votes and re-votes in the Legislature.
What may have been the most dramatic moment occurred at 3:12 p.m.
on Friday, March 21, 1997.
Reversing a vote from just a day before, the House voted 35-34 to
approve state-tribal compacts to permit Indian casinos.
The House-approved legislation also legalized slot-machine
gambling at horse-racing tracks and veterans and fraternal clubs.
The reversal came when Rep. Debbie Rodella, a Demo-crat from San
Juan Pueblo near Española, changed her vote from "no" to "yes."
Rodella, who was a major recipient of campaign contributions from
gambling interests, said at the time the donations had nothing to do
with her change and that she was swayed in part by the promise of
Indian casinos bringing jobs to her district.
"I stand firmly by my decision to vote for gaming and expect my
friends and neighbors to accept it and move towards what benefits us
all," she said at the time.
Contacted recently, Rodella said she was too busy to comment.
The House had long been the roadblock to gambling legislation in
the Legislature. The Senate quickly approved the House-passed bill and
Johnson signed it soon after.
Smoothing the road
Tribes in New Mexico first began asking the state to negotiate
compacts in 1989, but were rebuffed.
Some moved ahead anyway. And by late 1994, there were eight Indian
casinos operating slot machines in violation of federal law.
After taking office in 1995, Johnson wasted no time in negotiating
what were the original compacts to permit Las Vegas-style gaming on
Indian lands in New Mexico.
Those compacts were later ruled unconstitutional by the state
Supreme Court because the Legislature hadn't given consent.
Bernalillo County Attorney Tito Chavez, a Albuquerque state
senator in 1995, recalled that many legislators believed some form of
gaming expansion was inevitable.
"We went to see how other states were doing it, and the advice we
got everywhere, everywhere, was 'Start slowly, do one thing at a
time.' Then 'BOOM,' Governor Johnson signed that thing and it was all
off and running around the track. It was just stunning. It was gone,
all at once."
Some say the prospect of a state lottery helped smooth the rough
road that previously had prevented other gambling expansion.
Voters approved a constitutional amendment creating a state-run
lottery in November 1994 but the state Supreme Court invalidated that
vote because the lottery issue had been coupled with a ballot question
about video gambling.
The Legislature passed a bill in 1995 to make the lottery legal
and Johnson signed it.
Then Johnson was off to court for a fight over his Indian gaming
compacts. The U.S. Justice Department stepped in, advising tribes with
casinos to close them or face legal action to seize their slot
machines.
The department, through U.S. Attorney John Kelly, followed through
on the threat and eventually forced the temporary closure of one
Indian casino.
The legal cloud lifts
That set the stage for the Legislature's vote in March 1997 to
approve new state-tribal compacts for Indian casinos and slots at
tracks and clubs.
The compacts allowed tribal casinos to begin banking table games,
from blackjack to craps. They had become full-service gambling halls.
With the legal cloud no longer over their heads, tribes also found
it easier and cheaper to borrow money for expansion and casino-related
developments like golf courses and hotels.
The compacts passed in 1997 required tribes to pay the state 16
percent of the take from their slot machines in exchange for limited
competition from off-reservation gambling.
Tribes eventually won new compacts that require them to pay no
more than 8 percent of their slot take.
At least twice in his tenure, Johnson put the brakes on expanded
gambling.
He refused to permit the Fort Sill Apache tribe to set up a casino
near Deming in 1999, and he pre-empted a state Racing Commission vote
on a Hobbs racetrack in late 2002.
Both ventures would have violated the near-exclusivity the state
promised the gaming tribes, Johnson said recently.
When a Richardson-appointed state racing commission finally
approved a new track and casino in Hobbs in 2003, there was no serious
opposition from gaming tribes.
Dorame says that won't happen next time.
'Every business does it'
Some opponents who fought Johnson on Indian gaming a decade ago
are just as vehement on the issue today.
"I've always felt that horse racing and lotteries were relatively
benign compared with the crack cocaine of gambling, which is slot
machines," said Albuquerque attorney and former state senator Victor
Marshall. "And in fact, New Mexico would be much better off if we went
back to where we were before the casinos, which is horse racing and
the lottery."
But Albuquerque Mayor Martin Chávez and others have given up their
active opposition.
"I'm a pragmatist," Chávez said. "It is here and it is not going
away. The challenge is to make lemons into lemonade."
Chávez said the tribes "are doing wonderful things with the money.
They are investing it in the tribes, their people. They are looking to
diversify. They are investing in health care, education."
Gaming tribes "are also incredibly sophisticated in manipulating
the levers of power," Chávez said. "They lobby. They contribute to
campaigns. This is not a bad thing; every business does it. Chevron,
PNM, everyone."
Terri Cole, president of the Greater Albuquerque Chamber of
Commerce, said the state is facing a "complicated dilemma" that began
with the approval of a state-run lottery.
Adds Cole: "The genie is out of the bottle."
|
|
