"Con Game"...whose in?
Looks like a con game!
The most logical explanation for Pennsylvania's ill-conceived and hastily written slot-machine gambling law is that it was drafted not by members of that august body known as the General Assembly of the Keystone State, but by the lovable group of film incompetents called the Keystone Kops.
As evidence -- only the most recent clue to be uncovered -- the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board (Keystone Kops, indeed!) will not tell the public who holds how much of a stake in each of the 22 applicants for 14 gambling licenses the board hopes to issue by the end of the year.
Members of the board apparently know but don't think you need to or that their charter allows them to tell.
This means -- not to pick on Franco Harris, but he's a big guy and can take it, and the former Penn State and Pittsburgh Steeler standout is an investor in one of the groups seeking a license -- the public can't be certain whether Harris is a major financial partner or just a celebrity front man for other politically well-connected concerns.
The same is true for businessman Brian Tierney, who is now the chief executive of the company that owns our former sister newspaper, The Philadelphia Inquirer, and is a slots applicant as well.
The list of potential licensees released by the Gaming Board does not even identify those who set up the children's trusts involved in several of the slots applications. "Trust," in this case, apparently refers less to the funds and more to what is required of the public.
But it is proprietary information and, therefore, confidential, a spokesman for the Kops ... er ... the Gaming Control Board said.
This is state-sponsored gambling. The stakes are stratospheric. Billions of dollars are involved. Residents of the commonwealth have no right to know who will be getting how much of what?
It gets better -- or worse, depending on whether you enjoy slapstick. A legislative attorney who helped write the slots law disagrees with the Kops over what can and cannot be disclosed.
"It has to be really related to some kind of business plan or trade secret that would otherwise be damaging if it were disclosed publicly," a lawyer for state Sen. Vincent Fumo, D-Philadelphia, said. "I wouldn't know how ... making that public harms the business model and plans of the applicant."
Nor do we. Nor, amazingly, does the Pennsylvania Harness Racing Commission -- and horse racing has been linked in the past with a betting scandal or two. The commission released detailed corporate structures and ownership stakes behind each applicant for a racing license that would also qualify for a slots license.
But those charged with regulating the state's nascent gambling industry are saying, "We know. That's enough. You don't need to. Just trust us."
Trust and gambling are not often thought of as natural partners in the tradition of, say, Abbott and Costello. That's why players ask the dealer to cut the cards.
"It only makes it look like both the government and applicants have something to hide," Barry Kauffman, executive director of Common Cause Pennsylvania, said of the open-records fiasco. "And that's not where they want to start if they want to earn the public's confidence."
As we have stated previously, every aspect of the state's gambling enterprise must be operated transparently, above board and beyond reproach.
Confidence? This keeps looking more and more like a confidence game.
from on-line www.centredaily.com August, 2006
For information concerning the PA Coalition of Taxpayers go to www.dbta.org or contact nopropertytaxes@yahoo.com
The most logical explanation for Pennsylvania's ill-conceived and hastily written slot-machine gambling law is that it was drafted not by members of that august body known as the General Assembly of the Keystone State, but by the lovable group of film incompetents called the Keystone Kops.
As evidence -- only the most recent clue to be uncovered -- the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board (Keystone Kops, indeed!) will not tell the public who holds how much of a stake in each of the 22 applicants for 14 gambling licenses the board hopes to issue by the end of the year.
Members of the board apparently know but don't think you need to or that their charter allows them to tell.
This means -- not to pick on Franco Harris, but he's a big guy and can take it, and the former Penn State and Pittsburgh Steeler standout is an investor in one of the groups seeking a license -- the public can't be certain whether Harris is a major financial partner or just a celebrity front man for other politically well-connected concerns.
The same is true for businessman Brian Tierney, who is now the chief executive of the company that owns our former sister newspaper, The Philadelphia Inquirer, and is a slots applicant as well.
The list of potential licensees released by the Gaming Board does not even identify those who set up the children's trusts involved in several of the slots applications. "Trust," in this case, apparently refers less to the funds and more to what is required of the public.
But it is proprietary information and, therefore, confidential, a spokesman for the Kops ... er ... the Gaming Control Board said.
This is state-sponsored gambling. The stakes are stratospheric. Billions of dollars are involved. Residents of the commonwealth have no right to know who will be getting how much of what?
It gets better -- or worse, depending on whether you enjoy slapstick. A legislative attorney who helped write the slots law disagrees with the Kops over what can and cannot be disclosed.
"It has to be really related to some kind of business plan or trade secret that would otherwise be damaging if it were disclosed publicly," a lawyer for state Sen. Vincent Fumo, D-Philadelphia, said. "I wouldn't know how ... making that public harms the business model and plans of the applicant."
Nor do we. Nor, amazingly, does the Pennsylvania Harness Racing Commission -- and horse racing has been linked in the past with a betting scandal or two. The commission released detailed corporate structures and ownership stakes behind each applicant for a racing license that would also qualify for a slots license.
But those charged with regulating the state's nascent gambling industry are saying, "We know. That's enough. You don't need to. Just trust us."
Trust and gambling are not often thought of as natural partners in the tradition of, say, Abbott and Costello. That's why players ask the dealer to cut the cards.
"It only makes it look like both the government and applicants have something to hide," Barry Kauffman, executive director of Common Cause Pennsylvania, said of the open-records fiasco. "And that's not where they want to start if they want to earn the public's confidence."
As we have stated previously, every aspect of the state's gambling enterprise must be operated transparently, above board and beyond reproach.
Confidence? This keeps looking more and more like a confidence game.
from on-line www.centredaily.com August, 2006
For information concerning the PA Coalition of Taxpayers go to www.dbta.org or contact nopropertytaxes@yahoo.com
posted by Helen | 3:53 PM
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