So, Who Wants a Casino?

A score of real letters, not PR confetti, invited me to Fishtown.

by Bruce Schimmel

On Saturday night, in the basement of the Holy Name Church in Fishtown, I attended a beef 'n' beer fundraiser to promote something for which I have expressed a profound dislike. Something I've openly donated funds to defeat: casinos.

The event was held to bolster the coffers of FACT (Fishtown Action Committee), where some 150 of a purported membership of 500 plunked down $25 each to help bring the SugarHouse Casino to their neighborhood.

The food was awesome. Smoky kielbasa, beef with horseradish, spicy meatballs and homemade red velvet cake for dessert. No yuppie, save-the-planet pasturage here. It was the real deal.

So, too, I think, were the people. These folks honestly want casinos. And contrary to whisperings heard from anti-casino advocates, the people here — cops, IT techs, truck drivers, teachers and the occasional lawyer — aren't lackeys grasping at the corporate cookie jar.

I came at their invitation, after I wrote in a column [Loose Canon, "The New Civility, An Old Bully," Feb. 5] that there was no legitimate group talking to the casinos. I was wrong. I got a score of letters — real letters, not PR confetti — saying I should come to Fishtown and listen up.

Having been mocked in the press (hey, that was the other weekly), many here were media-shy, and so I asked only for first names. I also promised to listen with an open mind. I'm glad I did.

Those favoring a casino were convincing about its benefits: how it will create decent jobs, generate a bit of excitement and bring some sorely needed funds to a community that's long been ignored.

Randy, a self-employed contractor in his 50s, stressed the jobs: 1,100 of them — many of which don't require a high school education — with benefits, specifically health care. "I'm 53 years old, and I spend a lot of time on ladders, if you know what I mean."

Mary Pat, a teacher in her 40s, saw the promise of community benefits. "I see it from the kids' point of view. There will be money for internships, for arts and education." Maureen, also a teacher, added, "We don't even have a YMCA in this neighborhood."

Joe, a middle-aged and successful local restaurant owner, contested the claim that casinos will destroy his business — like Home Depots kill hardware stores. "The more businesses that open, the better it gets. It's not intimidating [to have casinos], it's exciting."

Compelling reasons all. But when asked about the social costs of those thousand jobs — the 4,700 new gambling addicts estimated by John Street's gaming task force — I heard little that changed my mind.

Bob, a truck driver in his 40s, scoffed that casinos will breed more gambling: "We don't need a casino for gambling. There's a bookie in every bar, and a bar on every corner."

Pat, 71, who now takes the bus weekly to Atlantic City, said she didn't think she'd be spending more just because the casino is closer. It's a matter of self-discipline, she said.

Donna, in her early 50s, agreed: "They're going to be addicts anyway. Beside, it's not my life, and it's not our business to stop people from doing what they want to do."

I'm unconvinced. Because I do believe that the primary job of government is to protect citizens from harm. That you don't put a casino next to a sensitive neighborhood any more than you'd put a cigarette machine in a playground. Or let people smoke in bars.

Still, I came away with new respect for those with whom I disagreed. And I want to talk some more. It's a shame we've yet to have the kind of honest, open discussion about casinos that we have about other issues. It's a disgrace that Gov. Rendell is too arrogant to let Philadelphians decide among ourselves, or too cowardly to hear what we'll say.

(bruce@schimmel.com)