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“Yes on Issue 3″ by Tom Pounds

“No on Issue 3″ by Tim Higgins

The I-275 South exit onto U.S. 50 in Lawrenceburg, Ind., is less than two miles from the Hollywood Casino.

One might expect that two-mile stretch to be a haven for adult establishments — liquor stores, pawnshops, topless bars and massage parlors — but the road is instead lined with a series of family-friendly businesses. There is a 4-H fairgrounds; churches; a preschool; the usual McDonald’s and Burger King presence; chain hotels such as Holiday Inn Express; and a few gas station/convenience store choices.

There are no signs on the highway pointing to the Lawrenceburg Hollywood Casino, which is 15 minutes from downtown Cincinnati. There are no billboards promoting prizes or entertainment. When the rolling neon of the Hollywood appears on the left, it flashes the faces of patrons who won large jackpots, interspersed with images of celebrity entertainers appearing at the casino; on Oct. 2, that lineup included karaoke versions of Tina Turner, Cyndi Lauper and Frank Sinatra.

As Ohioans are deluged with commercials and ads for and against Issue 3 — which would allow casinos to be built in Toledo, Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati — facts and myths seem to fly in equal proportions.

To see the effects of a gaming facility firsthand, Toledo Free Press arranged to visit the Lawrenceburg community of less than 5,000 people and its casino, which is operated by Penn National Gaming. Penn is the group that would build a proposed Toledo casino on Miami Street adjacent to Rossford, and one in Columbus, if Issue 3 passes. All expenses for the trip were paid by Toledo Free Press.

The Hollywood Casino has been in Lawrenceburg for 12 years and employs about 2,000 people. It was originally owned by Argosy, but passed into Penn National’s hands four years ago.

Casino officials and Lawrenceburg community leaders talked candidly about crime, revenue, competition and the casino’s impact. Enthusiasm levels varied, but the nearly 20 people interviewed for this story agreed on one statement: the benefits of having a casino in town far outweigh the negatives.

“The Boat”

By Indiana law, casinos have to be on the river, technically on a boat. The Hollywood Casino is aptly named, for its physical existence is an illusion, a trick of craft and labor. Local people refer to the Hollywood casino as “The Boat,” and from outside appearances, the vessel looks far more seaworthy than the replicas of Christopher Columbus’ Niña and Pinta, which are docked in nearby Newport, Ky.

Tony Rodio

But the structure is supported by hydraulics, attached fully to its land building, and will never sail over a single wave. In the casino, there is no sense of being on a boat, unless one is shown the engine room, where a captain and 90 crewmembers are employed to maintain the casino’s maritime status.

The Boat is new, a $335 million investment that just opened this year. It replaces an older “boat,” which now sits empty, its black jack tables abandoned, its statues and sculptures left behind.

The old boat offered about 70,000 square feet of gaming space and could host 3,700 guests. The new boat is 270,000 square feet, of which 150,000 square feet is gaming space; it is two football fields long, wider than an aircraft carrier, and can host up to 10,000 guests.

The General Manager

General Manager Tony Rodio spent nearly 30 years in Atlantic City casinos. He moved to Lawrenceburg a year ago. He is the casino’s third general manager in 12 years. He is not physically imposing, but he projects a strong aura of authority. He is friendly and smiles as he leads a tour of the facility, but whenever employees see him coming, they immediately straighten up and fall silent.

The Boat may have a captain, but Rodio is clearly its admiral. He leads the way to a closed room that will later be filled with high-rollers, or “producers and directors.” Everything at the Hollywood Casino carries its title theme to maximum effect, and that includes Rodio’s comments and answers.

“This is the most successful riverboat casino in the history of the United States,” he said.

As expected, he is emphatic that the casino’s presence is a great positive for Lawrenceburg.

“Having worked in the casino industry in Atlantic City for 30 years, and looking at the benefits in terms of jobs, vendors, suppliers, construction, and, in terms of how the city looks today, it is night and day,” he said. “Our significant tax contribution — $140 million to Indiana each year and $40 million to Lawrenceburg each year — helps not just the city but the county and entire state. Lawrenceburg has less than 5,000 people; we contribute $40 million each year. You do the math.”

Rodio said Lawrenceburg has seen a revival of construction and development. In addition to its tax contributions, the casino offers philanthropic services to the community.

“We contribute in a number of additional ways. We do a big annual United Way fundraiser, and there are a number of charities we partner with,” he said.

Rodio said there are crimes that accompany the 3 million visitors who attend the Lawrenceburg casino each year, but they tend to be offenses such as drunken driving, patron behavior and minor theft, not violent crime or crimes committed in Lawrenceburg.

If Issue 3 passes in Ohio, a casino could be built in the Chavez area in Cincinnati, just 15 minutes away. Rodio said he knows that will impact his casino’s gaming income.

“It is beneficial for the company, and what benefits the company, I am certainly onboard with,” he said. “Will it hurt this individual property? Yes. But operating casinos in Toledo and Columbus will help us on a grander scale and, coupled with the major investment in this facility, we are going to be able to hold on to a significant piece of our market share and continue to grow. Having another casino in the area increases the number of people who have access to gaming; a rising tide lifts all boats.”

Lights, camera, action

Rodio walks through the casino with the air of a man who could take the walk blindfolded and never brush against a poker table. Marilyn Monroe and Humphrey Bogart join Fred Astaire and Golden Era stars in watching patrons, who are already filing in the 24/7 casino at 2 p.m. on a Friday. Red carpets line the walk to the gaming area, bathed in spotlights and 1980s MTV music. There are more than 4,000 stations at which to gamble: 3,200 slot machines (from 2-cent bets to $100 a spin), 60 table games (for baccarat, poker, craps, roulette, 21 + 3, Big Six Pai Gow Poker, Caribbean Stud and more), a 41-table poker room that hosts televised World Poker Tour events, a high-limit gaming area and two high-roller lounges. Half of the gaming area is designed as a Central Park movie set, with trees and wrought iron; another side is an industrial waterworks movie set. Both are filled with a stream of movie trailers, vintage commercials and maximum-size billboards that advertise current films. Meryl Streep, Gerard Butler and Bruce Willis watch over their areas with eyes the size of SUV tires. Card dealers dressed as Austin Powers, Michael Jackson, Madonna and other celebrities deal cards alongside life-size virtual dealers on screens who deal cards to monitors in front of players. Indiana allows smoking inside, and while there are designated non-smoking areas, smoke lingers in the casino and mixes with the lights, sounds and smells of early afternoon gaming. It is friendly and welcoming, surprisingly light on blatant sleaze; a female dealer in a pair of thigh-high white leather boots a short skirt and just enough cleavage to attract appreciative glances is the only nod to adult pursuits not regulated by the Indiana Gaming Commission.

There are five dining options, including a grill in the middle of the gaming action, plus a large buffet.

The entertainment lounge, “Hollywood on the Roof,” hosts bands under an IMAX-size dome screen that can show up to eight sporting events at once.

Rodio hosts the tour with unbridled pride, discussing the amount of work and effort that went into the new boat. This, he says, is the theme likely to be built in Toledo if Issue 3 passes.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Rodio asks, but he knows the answer.

It is.

From Day One

Brandy Rorabacher has worked at the Lawrenceburg casino since before it opened to the public 12 years ago.

“I came from a small town like Lawrenceburg, moved here when I got married, and have been very comfortable here,” she said.

Rorabacher, who works in the casino’s executive offices, said initial concerns about crime and prostitution faded as the casino worked with local and state law officials to curb the activities.

“It’s been very positive,” she said. “The skeptics have seen the community grow and realized that the imagined crimes have not happened. Lawrenceburg has greatly benefited.”

Lawrenceburg

The hotel side of the casino faces a street-spanning iron arch with “Welcome to Lawrenceburg” wrought in the metal. A vast children’s park buffers the casino hotel parking lot from the Center Street residences that line the avenue to downtown. Knocking on several doors yielded a half-dozen people who were not eager to have their names printed in a Toledo newspaper, but who all agreed that the casino operates without any intrusion on their daily lives. No one interviewed said there was a crime, noise or prostitution issue in the neighborhood.

Driving through Lawrenceburg is like seeing a photograph of an older town that has several places scratched away; showing through the scratches are stunning new buildings and developments. A new library towers over its street.

Construction on a new apartment complex rises toward the sky, near a row of abandoned houses. The police car lot is full of new Durango cruisers. The new fire station gleams with new brick and new metal.

Bill Cunningham

The Mayor

Bill Cunningham, 66, is a lifelong resident of Lawrenceburg, serving his second term as mayor. The house he grew up in “is now under the casino parking garage,” he said, with mixed amusement and nostalgia.

Cunningham, a former electrician, is dressed casually but is stoic and professional in a way that illustrates his time in the armed forces, where he served in Vietnam. His initial responses indicate he is a reluctant interview subject, but the more he speaks about Lawrenceburg, the more animated and talkative he becomes. He lists the town’s new developments with pride.

“We have built new swimming pools, splash parks, a skateboard park, a community center, firehouse, remodeled the police station, funded a library, funded an expansion of the hospital, new storm drains, a new water treatment plant, a new

$22 million bridge … I could go on and on,” he said. “We built a new parking garage. The hospital has an MRI for cancer detection; there are only two of them in the country, and the city paid for it. We have our own utility companies, gas, water and electric. Every nonprofit in the area shares in the money. Development grants are shared. We host free festivals and concerts; Willie Nelson was here last week. Graduating seniors who go to college and maintain a grade point average get about $1,800 a year. We put money away for health coverage for our workers. We don’t have school levies. All of this has been done without raising taxes.”

Cunningham said the original vote on gaming in Lawrenceburg passed 52 percent to 48 percent.

“The turnout was very low, but the benefits have been very high,” he said. “There are still people here who would tell you the casino hasn’t helped the community, but they have blinders on.”

Cunningham said Penn National Gaming has been true to its word.

“We have a very good corporate partner in Penn,” he said. “They are hard to deal with — they are in that business — but they have been truthful in their promises to the city. If we ask for anything above what we negotiated, we don’t get that.”

Unlike in Ohio, where the casino operators will be pre-chosen by Issue 3, Lawrenceburg and the state gaming commission were able to take bids and negotiate rates with the casino’s original owner, Argosy.

“If we had to start over in Indiana, we’d never get that deal,” Cunningham said. “The state would take it and tell us what we would get.”

Cunningham said crime went up when the casino opened.

“Our county has seen a major boost in population, and there are issues with that, such as drug use, that are not related to the casino,” he said. “Major crimes, prostitution, robbery, none of them increased when the casino opened. There has been an increase in drunken driving incidents. When 3 million people come and go each year, that is going to happen.”

The Lawrenceburg mayor, who drives a city-provided Nitro made in Toledo, said most of the employees in the casino come from the region.

“The bulk of jobs that were advertised and filled came from our tri-state area,” he said.

The potential for a Cincinnati casino to compete is not causing sleepless nights in Lawrenceburg. The city has a budget surplus of $250 million.

“We are not alarmed or concerned; we are prepared,” he said. “We realized long ago that gaming in Ohio was on the horizon. The level of income will drop, but the $335 million investment this year in the new facility will buffer that.”

Cunningham said the empty storefronts downtown were caused before the casino, a result of big-box retail and a bridge that routed traffic away from Lawrenceburg.

“The stores are filling up; it is improving. The casino brings 3 million people a year here. It is up to the businesses here to reach those people and get them downtown.”

Lawrenceburg’s population has not dramatically increased because the town is built to its physical capacity, Cunningham said, but the surrounding area has seen a major population boost.

He said Ohio cities like Toledo could benefit from a casino with increased convention center traffic and infrastructure improvements.

“If I lived in Toledo, I would vote for [Issue 3],” he said. “People are going to gamble one way or the other.”

Bourbon’s

At the levee end of downtown Lawrenceburg, the bar and grill Bourbon’s has its door open to let in the cool afternoon breeze. A few people gather at the bar, joking with the pretty dark-haired bartender as a TV shows sports highlights. The bar is a sports collector’s dream, bursting with rare autographs and memorabilia — there are signed seats from Riverfront Stadium, a Michael Jordan-autographed Chicago White Sox jersey and many, many images of Pete Rose.

The bar’s owner, Bill Wagner, is a native of the area and has owned the bar for two years. He does not frequent the casino.

“It takes your money,” he said.

Casino tourists do not make many visits downtown, he said.

Bill Wagner

“People go to that boat, gamble and go home,” he said. “But the employees live around here. They go to work, get a paycheck and come here.”

Wagner said other than the occasional “degenerate gambler,” there has not been a major crime problem. He said there was a prostitution bust at a downtown massage parlor earlier this year, but “it was mainly townies worried about their names coming out.”

He said he knew of men who “gambled their families into bankruptcy and got torn apart.”

He cautioned about the casino’s impact on local government.

“Start throwing around that much money and get ready for some dirty politics,” he said. “It will boost your revenue, but you get a lot of greedy people. Gambling is a crutch to get you through, but it won’t solve your state’s budget problem.”

Dearborn County

Mike Rozow is president of the Dearborn County Chamber of Commerce. He said the key to success with casino revenue is how the money is legislated.

“On a statewide basis, if huge amounts of revenue go into the general fund for the state, consider that to be like the Black Hole of Calcutta,” he said. “People have no control over what dollars were meant for.”

Rozow said the relative success of the Lawrenceburg casino may not have changed a lot of minds in the greater county.

“The casino vote passed by a very small margin,” he said. “If it were presented again, I wonder if it still would be that very small margin. Winning the lottery does not necessarily bring you great happiness. It is the use of those dollars that matter.”

The casino revenue has unquestionably helped, Rozow said.

“Lawrenceburg has done an excellent job of saving a dying downtown,” he said. “Rising Sun just down the road has also utilized its money to reposition its downtown.”

Rozow said population growth has led to more crime, but it is “absolutely not related” to the casino.

“We still have some work do to as our county transforms from rural to urban to a metropolitan community,” he said. “But those problems are not casino problems. The majority of casino visitors are 50-plus. They are good people; they mind the laws and they come to have fun.”

The small-town lawyer

In a restored house complete with pioneer-era rifles and Americana, self-described “small-town lawyer” Richard A. Butler looks out his front window at the police station, court and jail.

Butler, who has lived in Lawrenceburg for 38 of his 42 years, said the casino’s benefits have been numerous.

“This is home, and I originally had some concerns about gaming, probably like you do in Toledo,” he said. “I would be hard-pressed to say it’s done anything negative. That doesn’t mean there isn’t some bad, but the good has, so far, outweighed the negative; it’s almost unnoticeable. I suspect no one outside the legal community has noticed the bad.”

Butler said there was an initial increase in crime.

Richard Butler

“We are safe in our homes; we have the safest rating the federal government gives,” he said. “There was some initial prostitution attempts, but we worked with the state and shut that down. There have been theft charges, some public intoxication charges.”

Butler said there has also been an increase in divorce, but not from families dealing with addiction or bankruptcies.

“In my experience, the casino has provided good-paying jobs, and some people who might have been economic hostages in their existing relationship found themselves free to go their own way,” he said. “You hear about some well-heeled folks that didn’t handle the gaming well, but I can’t think of a single family that was torn apart or put on the street because of the casino. I have yet to work a divorce where gaming was the cause of financial failure.”

Butler said it was “a matter of time,” with governments struggling for money, that states like Ohio will approve gaming.

“There will be competition, but Hollywood has a tremendous commitment to this area and they have built a tremendous facility. They have invested a lot of money,” Butler said. “[Issue 3] is on our radar, but there’s not a lot we can do about it. We are happy to partner with the casino to keep it competitive with Ohio.”

Postscript: Spinning out of control

Back at the Hollywood Casino after a day of exploring Lawrenceburg and talking to its residents about the impact of the Penn National enterprise, I discover that the number of people at the gaming tables and machines has exploded since the sunset. A line 40 people deep waits for the buffet, and the excitement all but shoots like lasers from gamers’ eyes. All ages and races pull handles, feed slots, make bets and focus on their cards, chips or video screens.

Outside the Chart Room restaurant, a band funks its way through a spirited version of Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition.” It is impossible to know if the irony is intentional, but a song about luck is the perfect complement to the buzzing hive of activity at the casino.

Amused and oddly inspired by the musical selection, I eye an ATM, one of several prominently placed throughout the hotel and casino. I take out $20 (which carries a $3.50 fee) and walk back into the action.

I am not a gambler. Except for a $5 fling while walking through a casino in Niagara Falls, I have never gambled on more than the occasional Mega Millions lottery ticket. This lack of experience and the attending lack of confidence leads me to the video slot machines, where bets start at 25 cents.

That, I believe, I can handle.

I feed the $20 bill into the machine, which turns it into credits on a digital display. I hit the 1 bet, 1 line button, the three windows roll, and I match three bars.

That, I believe, is an easy way to double a quarter.

Three turns later, all three windows display “bonus game” symbols, and a TV screen on top of the slot machine comes to life with several rows of question marks. It is a touch screen, and I tap buttons with my index finger until I match three boxes. I get 20 free spins, at a double bonus.

A few minutes later, my $20 has turned into $96.

That, I believe, is a good time to quit.

But I am only $4 away from an even $100, so I keep hitting buttons. I am soon down to $70, but that is still up $50, so I keep playing, waiting for that magic touch screen to appear and bless me with more free spins.

Finally, it does. I win 20 more free spins, and during those, I win 25 more, for a total of 45 free spins. I feel euphoric. Several people stopped to watch. I imagined my $20 turning into $200, or $2,000.

At the end of the free 45 spins, my sum total increased by $3.

A few halfhearted spins later my digital read-out was reduced to 4 cents. I cashed out and took the voucher for four pennies in my right hand, about to crush it in disgust, when I saw an electronic slot machine taking 2-cent bets. I fed the voucher in, hit the button, and promptly won a bonus game that yielded $4. I cashed out, went back to my original machine, fed it the voucher, and started spinning.

I was at zero dollars within minutes. I left the gaming area and slumped back to my room, lesson learned.

Just after midnight, I sat on the hotel bed, staring at a 50-inch HD flat screen anchored on the wall, fuming at myself for losing, not just $20, but $96. Then it occurred to me: If I took out another $20, and made a quick run, I could cover my original $20, the cost of my $25 dinner and the second $20. Throw in the $7 in ATM fees, and all I needed was $70 or so to be back in black. I dressed and bounded back to the casino.

I took out $20 on my debit card from an ATM with a sticker that read, “No debit or business credit cards accepted,” and walked back to my original lucky machine.

I sat down, took a breath and fed in the $20.

Within four spins, I hit the free bonus games twice and was quickly at $125. That covered my expenses, plus put $50 in my pocket. I looked to the ceiling and mouthed a genuine “thank you.”

I cashed out, got my $125 and walked back to my hotel room, a winner.

That’s what I wish I had done.

In reality, I thought I would test a few spins to see what would happen.

A older woman sat next to me and I watched her feed $100 into her machine. I was playing no more than $1.25 a bet, but she was hitting $5 at a time, and was soon at zero dollars.

She looked at my screen.

“What did you start with?” she asked.

“$20,” I said, not looking away from my screen.

“Good for you,” she said. “You might want to walk away for awhile.”

I glanced at her, smiled, and went back to spinning. I was down to $100, but that was still $30 more than my goal, so I wasn’t really losing any cash.

When I slipped under $50, I stopped and considered — $50 up meant I was actually $20 down. I couldn’t end the night that way.

I was in a noisy casino with 6,000 people, but I might as well have been sitting with machine on the moon, alone and silent. All I could focus on was that button that made the bars and 7s spin. It was like being with a lover at the most intimate and intense moment, but the lover was a succubus, draining away any pretext of pleasure and leaving only an aching, empty anxiousness.

I was at $0. I left the gaming area and slumped back to my room, lesson learned.

I fell onto the bed and tried to fall asleep.

At 5 a.m., without really making a conscious decision, I found myself back at the ATM, taking out another $20. I lost it all in 10 spins.

I took out another $20. I lost it all in 24 spins.

I took out another $20. I stopped counting spins.

I was now down about $125, not including dinner.

I was standing at the ATM, debit card in my right hand, when I realized that all these ATM withdrawals were going to look very curious to my wife. That made me think of my two young boys and some of the early fall fun we have budgeted for them this month.

That broke the spell. I walked back to the hotel room, a loser at gaming, but a winner when it mattered most. I realize that in a room where some men were betting $100 on a single slot machine spin, my total losses fall somewhere between paltry and pathetic.

But there is a reason I do not smoke or drink, and I have added gambling to that list.

Driving away from Lawrenceburg the next day, I left behind the new library, new firehouse and new children’s park, paid for primarily from casino money, $20 at a time. I did not look back.

If Issue 3 passes, and Toledo gets its new casino, I will be there to tour and write about the addition to our community. I will be proud if such a facility leads to improvements and a better life for our city.

But I will leave my debit card at home.

Michael S. Miller is editor in chief of Toledo Free Press. Contact him at mmiller@toledofreepress.com.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 8th, 2009 at 8:41 pm and is filed under Community, Featured, Lighting The Fuse, Politics.
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