roulette table: State's odd slots moves play into tribes' pockets
Published May 25, 2006
The Seminoles have been so successful with their Hard Rock Casinos in Hollywood and Tampa, they want to void their profit-sharing contract with the developer. Who knew they'd make so much they'd have to pay $310 million the first two years, let alone a potential $2 billion over the life of the contract?
Meanwhile, Dan Adkins says he hears the same question every day from callers and customers at the dog track he runs in Hallandale Beach: "When are the slots coming?"
With so many people gambling and itching to gamble, you'd think the state would move a little quicker. Especially since the machines at four Broward pari-mutuels, unlike the ones at the tribal casinos, would be producing tax revenue for Florida.
No such luck.
Consider this: It took the state 14 months to get the lottery running after Florida voters approved it in November 1986. The first ticket was sold in January 1988.
It's been almost 19 months since Florida voters paved the way for slot machines in November 2004, almost 15 months since Broward voters gave final approval last March.
The latest ETA is Labor Day. If all goes well, if no more roadblocks or devious plans appear, the first taxed slot machines should be spinning in South Florida by late summer.
How is it that slot machines at Mardi Gras Racetrack and Gaming Center, Gulfstream Park, Dania Jai-Alai and Pompano Park could take longer to set up than a statewide lottery?
Under the illogical leadership of Gov. Jeb "I hate gambling except for the lottery I keep growing" Bush, the state has been happy to drag its heels.
First the Legislature blew off a July 2005 deadline and didn't write laws until last December. Then Bush gave state regulators six months to formulate rules. Soon, they'll get another three months to issue licenses.
The state's deliberate pace would be understandable in a gambling vacuum. But with crowds jamming the Indian casinos every day, Adkins called the delays "absurd."
"The most frustrating thing to me is to sit here and still not have what people voted for, still not be producing revenue for education," said Adkins, vice president of Mardi Gras, formerly known as Hollywood Greyhound track.
It's not all about altruism, because he's also frustrated that his company hasn't been raking in the dough. But at least his company's profits would be taxed 50 percent.
Bottom line: If the Legislature did its job on time and regulators worked with any urgency, Adkins said, there'd already be a couple of hundred million in the state's till.
No rush, fellas. The Seminoles and Miccosukees surely thank you.
Just as the Indian tribes must be thankful that Bush has broken off talks over the future of gambling at their sites. The tribes want to upgrade from the current Class 2 bingo-style slots to the Class 3 slots coming to the pari-mutuels. The tribes also want table games such as blackjack, roulette and craps.
Bush could negotiate a deal allowing these games on tribal land in return for a piece of the action and state oversight.
By breaking off talks, Bush is taking a huge gamble. If federal authorities rule the state negotiated in bad faith, the tribes could win the right to offer true slots or table games without giving the state anything.
Even if they're stuck with Class 2 slots, in which gamblers play each other and not against the house, the tribes will have advantages over the pari-mutuels.
Tribal casinos are open 24/7. The slots at pari-mutuels can run only 16 hours a day, and track poker rooms are open only 12 hours on days with live races or jai-alai matches.
Tribal poker rooms offer jackpots and high-stakes tournaments with entry fees up to $1,100. The entry fees for pari-mutuel poker tournaments are capped at $45, and the state is fighting to get rid of them.
The gambling age at Indian casinos is 18. The state has set a minimum age of 21 for slots at tracks, which is curious when you consider the legal age for racetrack betting, poker and the lottery is 18. (Imagine if the state had a drinking age of 18 for beer, 21 for liquor.)
Adkins knows the tribes have plenty of competitive edges. After all this time, he simply wants to join the fight.
Michael Mayo can be reached at mmayo@sun-sentinel.com or 954-356-4508.
The Seminoles have been so successful with their Hard Rock Casinos in Hollywood and Tampa, they want to void their profit-sharing contract with the developer. Who knew they'd make so much they'd have to pay $310 million the first two years, let alone a potential $2 billion over the life of the contract?
Meanwhile, Dan Adkins says he hears the same question every day from callers and customers at the dog track he runs in Hallandale Beach: "When are the slots coming?"
With so many people gambling and itching to gamble, you'd think the state would move a little quicker. Especially since the machines at four Broward pari-mutuels, unlike the ones at the tribal casinos, would be producing tax revenue for Florida.
No such luck.
Consider this: It took the state 14 months to get the lottery running after Florida voters approved it in November 1986. The first ticket was sold in January 1988.
It's been almost 19 months since Florida voters paved the way for slot machines in November 2004, almost 15 months since Broward voters gave final approval last March.
The latest ETA is Labor Day. If all goes well, if no more roadblocks or devious plans appear, the first taxed slot machines should be spinning in South Florida by late summer.
How is it that slot machines at Mardi Gras Racetrack and Gaming Center, Gulfstream Park, Dania Jai-Alai and Pompano Park could take longer to set up than a statewide lottery?
Under the illogical leadership of Gov. Jeb "I hate gambling except for the lottery I keep growing" Bush, the state has been happy to drag its heels.
First the Legislature blew off a July 2005 deadline and didn't write laws until last December. Then Bush gave state regulators six months to formulate rules. Soon, they'll get another three months to issue licenses.
The state's deliberate pace would be understandable in a gambling vacuum. But with crowds jamming the Indian casinos every day, Adkins called the delays "absurd."
"The most frustrating thing to me is to sit here and still not have what people voted for, still not be producing revenue for education," said Adkins, vice president of Mardi Gras, formerly known as Hollywood Greyhound track.
It's not all about altruism, because he's also frustrated that his company hasn't been raking in the dough. But at least his company's profits would be taxed 50 percent.
Bottom line: If the Legislature did its job on time and regulators worked with any urgency, Adkins said, there'd already be a couple of hundred million in the state's till.
No rush, fellas. The Seminoles and Miccosukees surely thank you.
Just as the Indian tribes must be thankful that Bush has broken off talks over the future of gambling at their sites. The tribes want to upgrade from the current Class 2 bingo-style slots to the Class 3 slots coming to the pari-mutuels. The tribes also want table games such as blackjack, roulette and craps.
Bush could negotiate a deal allowing these games on tribal land in return for a piece of the action and state oversight.
By breaking off talks, Bush is taking a huge gamble. If federal authorities rule the state negotiated in bad faith, the tribes could win the right to offer true slots or table games without giving the state anything.
Even if they're stuck with Class 2 slots, in which gamblers play each other and not against the house, the tribes will have advantages over the pari-mutuels.
Tribal casinos are open 24/7. The slots at pari-mutuels can run only 16 hours a day, and track poker rooms are open only 12 hours on days with live races or jai-alai matches.
Tribal poker rooms offer jackpots and high-stakes tournaments with entry fees up to $1,100. The entry fees for pari-mutuel poker tournaments are capped at $45, and the state is fighting to get rid of them.
The gambling age at Indian casinos is 18. The state has set a minimum age of 21 for slots at tracks, which is curious when you consider the legal age for racetrack betting, poker and the lottery is 18. (Imagine if the state had a drinking age of 18 for beer, 21 for liquor.)
Adkins knows the tribes have plenty of competitive edges. After all this time, he simply wants to join the fight.
Michael Mayo can be reached at mmayo@sun-sentinel.com or 954-356-4508.
