13/09/2004 00:00
Casino fever grips the Golden State
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OF ALL THE astounding figures tied to the rapid rise of Indian casinos in California, perhaps the most remarkable statistic is the number of tribe members it takes to pitch a plan for a 2,000-slot-machine gambling hall.
It turns out it's five -- the size of the California Valley Miwok tribe, which is now considering an offer from outside investors to build a sizable casino on the outskirts of Gilroy's famed garlic fields.
The idea is only in the preliminary stage, after all -- the tiny tribe doesn't even have claim to land in the area. But with California in the twitchy grip of casino fever, it's probably only a matter of time before out- of-state gambling concerns find a two-member tribe to help them expand their fortunes. Not surprisingly, genealogists are in great demand these days, with tribal family trees potentially sprouting U.S. currency.
The Indian gambling craze, which seemed to hit some head-shaking limit last month when Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger gave initial approval to a plan for a huge 5,000-slot machine casino in San Pablo (public outcry has put that deal on hold), seems to be picking up speed in the Golden State at a time when all signs suggest that California should be re-assessing the beast it has unleashed. While the Costco-sized San Pablo hall has been stalled, every month brings forth another proposed casino in another county, to the point that the original idea for allowing Indian gaming in rural areas has been lost in the state's latest gold rush.
At the same time, Schwarzenegger was mulling over San Pablo's dubious deal, Rohnert Park was grappling with the most contentious political split in its short history, voting on whether to recall two city council members who negotiated a lucrative deal to bring an Indian casino to the outskirts of town. The recall failed, but it underscored the rising cost of gambling in local communities, and it showed that the thirst for municipal revenue is, to many residents, no substitute for sound public policy.
But trying to slow the pace of casino expansion seems as futile as advocating for silent films in the era of talkies. The race is on for investors, tribes and developers to cash in on the boom before a backlash mounts. And it doesn't seem to matter how remote or populated the sites are, because gambling appears popular in almost any locale.
Last month, two North Coast tribes announced plans to construct a $70 million casino next to a proposed resort in the town of Cloverdale in partnership with a prominent Sonoma County landowner. The proposed 12-acre project is reportedly on a fast track because the land is owned by a Native American family and is being held in trust by the federal government, a requirement for Indian-operated casinos. Of course, there is resistance to the casino idea from other neighboring tribes, who have their own plans to build gambling halls in the area or expand ones they operate.
Across the bay, in perennially cash-strapped Richmond, the city council voted this month to sell a formal naval depot to a casino developer. The plan to sell Point Molate to a gambling group for a 2,500-slot casino adjacent to the Chevron refinery is being fought by the oil giant, but the council seems to think Chevron's $34 million offer for the land is puny compared to the potential fortune a casino could bring.
And now comes word that Mills Corp., which once promised to build a shopping mall at a refurbished and rebuilt Candlestick Park, has purchased a controlling interest in Richmond's long struggling Hilltop Mall. But the shopping-mall developer apparently doesn't have any intention of rejuvenating it. The purchase reportedly is based on the idea of luring an Indian tribe to build a casino next to the site. This brings a whole new meaning to the concept of an anchor tenant.
The problems with the proliferation are apparent. If the San Pablo casino compact had been approved by the Legislature, it would have given the Lytton Band of Pomo Indians exclusive rights to slot machines within a 35-mile limit, essentially blocking the proposed Richmond deals. But now that compact has been put on hold, competing tribes are bellying up to the negotiating table to make sure they're not squeezed out of the process.
The same is true for the other tribes, who now see an opening in the loop- holes that were supposed to keep the gambling halls out of urban areas.
So far, little thought has been given as to whether it's appropriate to have a major casino complex adjacent to a major freeway or next to an oil refinery. By that standard, a garlic-field site seems pungently refreshing. But at the rate the state is going, can riverboat gambling be far behind?
source:SFGate.com
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