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Gambling with the city's future
Casinos and the Barnes: Perfect together
Robert Zaller
Philadelphia is about to get something it doesn't want and doesn't need: a giant push toward municipal failure in the form of casino gambling and slots parlors. Gambling's around everywhere, some of it as harmless as Friday night poker and some as vicious as cockfighting. But no other American city of Philadelphia's size and historic stature is being saddled with state-sponsored vice. Make no mistake about it: Casinos constitute a tipping point for a city. They bring crime, corruption, urban blight, and ultimate ruin. Ask Atlantic City.
So why, at a moment of economic crisis in the middle of long-term decline for Philadelphia, is gambling being foisted on the city? From the point of view of gambling "interests," it's a target of opportunity. From the point of view of the state, which supports— and runs— addictive gambling the way Southern states support addictive tobacco, it's a cash cow. And, if the message isn't clear enough, the state legislature is (with Governor Rendell's blessing) preparing to cut off $64 million in city development funds if Philadelphia drags its feet any longer on becoming Las Vegas East.
Meanwhile, across the river and up over City Line Avenue, Lower Merion Township still stands to lose the Barnes Foundation, barring a sudden access of sanity and decency, or a worldwide depression. I don't bet on the first two, but the last does look promising.
That powerless feeling
Once again the prime enabler is Rendell, who jumped on the bandwagon to move the Barnes long ago, even though it was a private trust notionally protected by law. I've been calling this move a heist for some time now, and I'm glad to see that the term has been recently employed as well by Bruce Castor, former district attorney of Montgomery County. It's actually worse than that, because it involves not only the theft of a $30 billion asset from the county— the value of the Barnes collection, even in a down market— but also the misappropriation of more than $200 million in state funds. SugarHouse and Foxwoods at least promise to put revenue from their casinos into city and state coffers, however dubious the premise. The Barnes heist just takes taxpayer money out.
I know how the residents of Northern Liberties, Fishtown and Chinatown feel about getting something they don't want shoved down their throats, because I know, as a Lower Merion resident, how it feels to face the loss of my own community's chief cultural asset. Our loss, we're told, will be Philadelphia's gain, but even that is an unproven assumption, since the Barnes comes with a built-in deficit that would escalate in Philadelphia, without any demonstrable benefit to the city. The only feasibility study ever undertaken— the Abruzzo Report, in 2004— concluded, "There is a high risk, with too many unknown variables, to demonstrate that the new [Barnes] facility would operate in the long-term on a break-even basis."
Just what Philadelphia needs in the current economic debacle: another loss leader.
A possible alliance?
Casino gambling and the Barnes Foundation move share something else in common: I have yet to hear a single ordinary, wage-earning Philadelphian support either idea. The Barnes' first proposed Parkway site, like the casinos', drew a firestorm of criticism from Fairmount Park neighbors, and had to be abandoned. There is very justifiable concern by neighboring residents of the now-approved site about traffic and parking congestion.
Many casino opponents are well aware of the Barnes issue, and many opponents of the Barnes move— some of whom live in the city, and some of whom, like myself, work there— are deeply sympathetic to the neighborhoods resisting the gamblers' takeover. There's a natural alliance there waiting to be forged, and to hold to the fire the feet of any city, county, or state official abetting either act of community vandalism.
To read responses, click here.
So why, at a moment of economic crisis in the middle of long-term decline for Philadelphia, is gambling being foisted on the city? From the point of view of gambling "interests," it's a target of opportunity. From the point of view of the state, which supports— and runs— addictive gambling the way Southern states support addictive tobacco, it's a cash cow. And, if the message isn't clear enough, the state legislature is (with Governor Rendell's blessing) preparing to cut off $64 million in city development funds if Philadelphia drags its feet any longer on becoming Las Vegas East.
Meanwhile, across the river and up over City Line Avenue, Lower Merion Township still stands to lose the Barnes Foundation, barring a sudden access of sanity and decency, or a worldwide depression. I don't bet on the first two, but the last does look promising.
That powerless feeling
Once again the prime enabler is Rendell, who jumped on the bandwagon to move the Barnes long ago, even though it was a private trust notionally protected by law. I've been calling this move a heist for some time now, and I'm glad to see that the term has been recently employed as well by Bruce Castor, former district attorney of Montgomery County. It's actually worse than that, because it involves not only the theft of a $30 billion asset from the county— the value of the Barnes collection, even in a down market— but also the misappropriation of more than $200 million in state funds. SugarHouse and Foxwoods at least promise to put revenue from their casinos into city and state coffers, however dubious the premise. The Barnes heist just takes taxpayer money out.
I know how the residents of Northern Liberties, Fishtown and Chinatown feel about getting something they don't want shoved down their throats, because I know, as a Lower Merion resident, how it feels to face the loss of my own community's chief cultural asset. Our loss, we're told, will be Philadelphia's gain, but even that is an unproven assumption, since the Barnes comes with a built-in deficit that would escalate in Philadelphia, without any demonstrable benefit to the city. The only feasibility study ever undertaken— the Abruzzo Report, in 2004— concluded, "There is a high risk, with too many unknown variables, to demonstrate that the new [Barnes] facility would operate in the long-term on a break-even basis."
Just what Philadelphia needs in the current economic debacle: another loss leader.
A possible alliance?
Casino gambling and the Barnes Foundation move share something else in common: I have yet to hear a single ordinary, wage-earning Philadelphian support either idea. The Barnes' first proposed Parkway site, like the casinos', drew a firestorm of criticism from Fairmount Park neighbors, and had to be abandoned. There is very justifiable concern by neighboring residents of the now-approved site about traffic and parking congestion.
Many casino opponents are well aware of the Barnes issue, and many opponents of the Barnes move— some of whom live in the city, and some of whom, like myself, work there— are deeply sympathetic to the neighborhoods resisting the gamblers' takeover. There's a natural alliance there waiting to be forged, and to hold to the fire the feet of any city, county, or state official abetting either act of community vandalism.
To read responses, click here.
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