Rolling the dice for a Chicago casino
By DAN BARON
Times Columnist | Monday, May 17, 2004
That was my thought upon watching Chicago Mayor Richard Daley and Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich square off on the issue of whether Chicago should open its own casino.
Daley, of course, said he wants to bring new revenue to the city by opening a casino in Chicago after years of alternately hiding and showing his cards on the issue. Blagojevich nixed the idea.
More speculation is sure to follow. Much more. They're already taking bets on exactly how much more. What we do know for sure is that it's already been almost a week since the mayor made his pronouncement, and there's still no casino in the city. Things just don't happen as fast at City Hall as they used to.
Meanwhile, public opinion polls have failed to demonstrate Chicago residents want a casino in their city, though many are content to roll the dice in other Illinois communities or Indiana.
The exchange between the mayor and governor appeared to be something that might happen between grade school kids at a playground, or in many other state houses or city halls around the country. The biggest kid on the block -- or at least the one with the best connections and most prominent family name -- says it's his turn to go down the slide. The new kid on the block, who is younger, somehow gets away with telling the other kid to stay off the slide.
When these kids get a little older, they get together for a night of card-playing with their buddies and the same kind of back-and-forth takes place.
Years later, as elected officials in the same party, they sing the same tune, and somehow manage to keep a straight face.
According to news reports, Daley did not contact Blagojevich before proposing his plan for a city-based casino last week. Daley's people, though, claim the governor had already been informed about the mayor's plan and was "noncommittal" about it.
Meanwhile, Blagojevich claims he has informed the mayor of his position on opening a casino in the city many times.
Last week, when Blagojevich gave his "thumbs down" to the proposal, Daley decried that the city did not have "an opportunity to present our case and demonstrate the significant financial benefits it (a casino) would provide to city and state taxpayers."
I can just see the high-level discussions held in both camps about how to deal with the other guy.
"Hey, let's call Blagojevich," Daley says at one point. "Can't do that," an adviser tells him.
"Why not?," the mayor asks.
"Because we can't find his number."
"Let's e-mail him, then," Daley says.
"Tried that. But our computer just froze."
"OK, forget it, maybe he'll call us. Besides, he knows what we want to do. Doesn't he?"
Surely the same type of conversation must have been held in the governor's office. If there's a good reason why these public officials can't communicate with each other more effectively on this issue, I haven't heard it.
I'm not sure whether Blagojevich truly believes Chicago doesn't need a casino or whether he just wanted to find another way to say "It's good to be the king." Daley appeared to be miffed last week because with a few exceptions, the phrase "it's good to be the king" has been the property of his family since his dad was first elected as mayor in 1955.
Like a prolonged session of yapping between neighborhood dogs, this tete-a-tete could continue with occasional breaks as long as the mayor and governor stay in office.
The wild card here, as many have pointed out, is House Speaker Michael Madigan, whose history of up-and-down relationships with both the governor and mayor will only heighten the drama. The most rampant bit of speculation is that Daley and Madigan will somehow join forces. This is just further proof that nothing brings out the genuine feelings of cooperation in boys on a playground more than mutual dislike of another guy.
Still, it is not clear exactly what Madigan's role will be in this fray. No one know if Madigan's e-mail is working, either, or if his staff have been able to find Daley or Blagojevich's phone number.
The casino issue has always been a complicated one. For one, there are still some people out there who oppose gambling on moral grounds. Others rightly point out that casino revenues often don't sufficiently benefit their intended source -- like schools.
In the governor's view, Chicago would not be an appropriate location for a casino because it does not meet the criteria of an economically depressed small town. Maybe that's true, though of course there are communities in Chicago as depressed as any in the country.
For Daley, this battle points to an all-American fact of life: Public officials and many voters tend to view money as the most sacred thing in the world. The mayor will push for new revenues from Springfield, try to bring a job-creating casino to Chicago and do anything but commit the ultimate political "sin" -- raise property taxes.
In the end, the mayor and the governor have more in common on this issue than they think. Both like to hold all the cards. Both act like this is a high-stakes poker match. Wait a second, though -- two guys playing games by themselves? Sounds like they had one more thing in common last week -- they both made this whole thing seem like an endless, confused game of Solitaire.
Dan Baron is a correspondent. The opinions expressed in his column are solely his own and are not necessarily those of The Times. Readers can reach Baron at dan@danbaron.com
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