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Crowds turn out for slots
Las Vegas-style machines are in play at pari-mutuel
Maya Bell | Sentinel Staff Writer
Posted November 18, 2006
HALLANDALE BEACH -- Elaine Fritz took a day off work to whittle down her to-do list: Renew drivers license, get flu shot, stop by church and check out Florida's first Las Vegas-style slot machines.
"This is kind of an early birthday present to myself," said Fritz, a records supervisor standing in line for the noon opening at Gulfstream Park Racing & Casino earlier this week. "My husband doesn't know I'm here -- he hates gambling -- but I've been waiting for this for two years."
Fritz, who turns 62 on Sunday, was among thousands of South Floridians who converged on the more than 60-year-old thoroughbred track, many for the first time. They were ushering in a new era of gaming that opponents warn could soon dawn at Native American casinos in Tampa as well as three other rural, inland cities.
Until Broward voters approved the introduction of what's known as Class III slot machines into Gulfstream and three other struggling pari-mutuels in the county last year, they were illegal anywhere on Florida's shores.
Gamblers on Florida soil could scratch their itch only at eight casinos operated by the Seminole or Miccosukee Indians and only on bingo-style electronic-video terminals that look like -- but, to the chagrin of players, don't play or pay out like -- the traditional one-armed bandits found in Vegas.
Gov. Jeb Bush, a staunch opponent of gambling, had fervently hoped to keep that status quo but, in the end, had no choice but to preside over its expansion. Broward voters had spoken, forcing him to sign a bill allowing Gulfstream, Mardi Gras Racetrack & Casino in Hollywood, Pompano Park Harness Track and Dania Jai-Alai to install as many as 1,500 traditional slot machines at each venue.
Gulfstream is the first to debut 516 of its allotted machines; the others are slated to follow soon. All hope the machine will reverse their sagging fortunes.
Tribes get same options
Now, Bush, who is term-limited, may spend his waning days in office suing to stop the Seminoles' efforts to replace the bingo terminals at the tribe's seven casinos in Broward, Tampa, Immokolee, Clewiston and Okeechobee with traditional slot machines.
That's because the federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act allows tribes to offer the same gambling options their states permit elsewhere, either by entering into a gaming compact with their state or by pursuing approval from the federal government.
Under the former option, the state could have allowed the tribe to offer higher-stakes gaming in return for some state regulation and a cut of the tribe's profit. Under the latter option, which appears increasingly likely unless incoming Republican Gov. Charlie Crist can reach an accord, the state gets nothing.
For years, the Seminoles tried to negotiate a deal, but Bush and Lawton Chiles -- his Democratic predecessor and fellow gambling foe -- refused. Bush was forced to the table only after Broward voters authorized slots for the county's pari-mutuels. Miami-Dade voters turned down a similar measure.
But in April, negotiations reached an impasse and broke off, prompting the tribe to turn to the U.S. Department of the Interior for approval, which penned a Sept. 26 letter giving the parties 60 days to reach an agreement.
Without one, George Skibine, the department's acting deputy secretary for policy and economic development, wrote that the government is ready to "issue a final decision setting forth the proposed Class III gaming procedures for the Tribe."
The proposed procedures would allow the Seminole halls to stay open 24 hours a day and require their machines to pay out at least 75 percent of the money wagered. Under state law, Broward's four pari-mutuel casinos are permitted to stay open 16 hours a day and must pay out at least 85 percent.
The 60-day deadline presumably expires next week, but Nedra Darling, a spokeswoman with the Interior Department's Bureau of Indian Affairs, was uncertain whether the government would issue the final regulations by then.
If they do, though, Bush promises to sue.
"If they issue the procedures, we will most certainly challenge the department," Bush spokeswoman Kristy Campbell said.
State Sen. Steve Geller, D-Hallandale Beach, and president of the National Council of Legislators from Gaming States, said, however, that Bush is dragging out the inevitable. With or without a lawsuit or a compact, he said, the Indians have an undisputed right to Class III machines. Still, he said, he is certain they won't get it under Bush's watch.
"The deadline is irrelevant," Geller said. "I don't think the Department of the Interior is ever going to issue the order while the brother of the president is governor of the state."
Bush leaves office Jan. 1 and his successor, Crist, has said he is opposed to expansion of gambling but open to talks with the Seminoles.
Celebrating her birthday early at Gulfstream, Fritz echoed the sentiments of many fellow gamblers who said the state ought to settle with the Indians and get some of their take. Though Fritz would have preferred to leave the casino a winner, she was glad a portion of the $40 she lost would go to education.
'It helps the schools'
"It's exciting. It's fun. It's entertaining, and it helps the schools," Fritz said.
After their payout to bettors, the pari-mutuels are required to share 50 percent of what's left with the state. That has been projected to put $200 million into statewide education coffers once all the eligible pari-mutuels have their allotted machines.
Education, though, was the farthest thing from the minds of many bettors feeding Gulfstream's whirring, ringing, blinking machines bearing names such as $tinkin' Rich, Hexbreaker and Pharaoh's Fortune.
"I just want to tell you I've already won more than $400 playing the nickel machines," Sandy Frohman, a retiree from Delray Beach, yelled into her cell phone 15 minutes after the casino opened Thursday. "I'm ready to go home."
Another woman wasn't as lucky. She fed a $100 bill into a machine and was stumped as to why she got only one spin. When a slots representative informed her she had just played one of the casino's two $100 machines, she was unfazed.
"I only brought $140," she moaned. "You mean I have to go home for more?" |
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