A Fixed Hand

With billions at stake, the fight over Indian Gaming has turned into the most expensive in proposition history. TV spots posted to YouTube by the No side- Californians Against Unfair Deals-are tagged, “It’s amazing what millions in political contributions can get you.”

But if you’re like most California voters by now, you’re thinking it’s amazing what millions in campaign advertising can get. With both sides flaunting the same images – police and fire chiefs, educators, senior citizens, wide-eyed children, and poor non-gaming Native Americans – it’s a shame they can’t get together on anything, at least to share the ads.

Yes For California – the supporters of the propositions – includes many gaming tribes and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger. They remind voters (in an upbeat way) that our budget’s in shreds. In one commercial, Schwarzenegger even revives his campaign slogan, “California Indian tribes should pay their fair share,” which when uttered during the gubernatorial election had Native Americans spitting nails. Anthony Miranda, chairman of the California Nations Indian Gaming Association (CNIGA), accused Schwarzenegger back then of “blatantly using the tribes as political pawns to help sweep him into office.”

The propositions provide four tribes – the Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, the Morongo Band of Mission Indians, the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians, and the Sycuan Band of the Kumeyaay Nation – with a total of 17,000 more slot machines and a 10-year extension on their compacts, due to expire in 2020. They agree to pay up to 25 percent of the slot machine revenues, an estimated $9 billion over 20 years.

Perhaps one of the sorriest aspects to this, apart from watching the gaming tribes go at it so bitterly, is that Schwarzenegger’s many campaign promises to balance the budget and repay California for the opportunities he himself enjoyed as a young immigrant have deteriorated down to this: How much gaming can California voters stand? That’s become the governor’s vision for the future. Seventeen-thousand slot machines. Take it or leave it.

The other is that Schwarzenegger has still failed to disclose details of his reported holdings in IGT, the Reno, Nevada-headquartered slot manufacturer that supplies most of the state’s machines. In 2004, CityBeat reported that Schwarzenegger received a settlement on his $20 million lawsuit against IGT, which manufactured Terminator slots without first obtaining Schwarzenegger’s permission. This was confirmed by Schwarzenegger spokesperson Vince Sollitto. “My understanding is that those holdings are in a blind trust,” Sollitto told CityBeat.

This time, Schwarzenegger’s office repeatedly refused to answer questions about IGT, stating that the governor’s finances are his “private affair.” In 2004, IGT spokesperson Rick Sorensen confirmed for CityBeat that there was a settlement, and that IGT was bound by “a confidentiality agreement,” with the court documents sealed. Therefore, it’s impossible to determine whether Schwarzenegger’s holdings in IGT are in company stock or Terminator machine royalties, or if he, as University of Las Vegas Professor William N. Thompson advised, “gave it all to charity.” Also, according to an unnamed source, Schwarzenegger applied “nonstop pressure” on IGT attempting to get the company to contribute to the proposition campaign.

When the tribes signed these new compacts in 2004, CNIGA stayed neutral. On and off the record, tribal leaders questioned the wisdom of negotiating new compacts with the state, even ones that would make them richer than they already are. But in April 2007, CNIGA came out solidly for the compacts, with Miranda stating “efforts by outside third parties who have their own financial or political agendas is a direct challenge to the future of the Indian gaming industry and … a direct assault on the sovereign right of all tribal governments.”

Critics point out that the governor says often that he personally opposes gambling but hasn’t focused enough attention on mitigating the ill effects on the community. (Recent stats show that California now has more than 1 million addicted gamblers, but Thompson estimates it’s probably half that.)

“California voters approved Indian gaming,” asserts Sabrina

Lockhart, deputy press secretary for Schwarzenegger, “and the governor stands by the will of the people. He negotiated the best deal that the state can get with any gaming tribe on federally negotiated land.”

Lockhart adds that, “The compacts require that tribes negotiate with cities and counties to provide help for gambling-addiction problems and require that employees be trained to identify problem gamblers, Additionally, casinos will be required to post signs indicating where problem gamblers can get help.”

In any case, it’s not an issue with the opposition. There’s Las Vegas Sahara casino and California race track owner Terry Fancher, with his gambling interests, and the Pala and Auburn tribes, with theirs. Ironically, both tribes actually signed their own deals in 2004. The Auburns own Thunder Valley in Placer County. They added a few hundred new slots last year but their deal – also extended to 2030 – allows for an extra 4,500.

Jacob Mejia, public affairs director for Pechanga, heavily involved in getting out the Yes vote, retorts, “The Auburn tribe has the third most lucrative casino on the planet.”

But according to Scott Macdonald, communications director for Californians Against Unfair Deals, the Big 4 tribes enjoy better casino locations. “The truth is that the [Big Four] are geographically positioned to have an advantage,” he explains. “That puts a third of the Indian gaming revenue in the hands of four tribes. That’s not what voters were thinking about. They were promised a modest expansion of gambling. These casinos can be two times larger than the biggest Vegas casino.”

And Fancher’s involvement is also “far from outrageous,” says Macdonald. “These casinos are California state-sanctioned monopolies and the state is bulldozing the middle class who have jobs in race tracks in California. These race track owners and their workers have every right to be concerned that their jobs and businesses will be there tomorrow.”

Also working the No vote is the Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees International Union, Unite Here. To the union, this is about their right to organize in a neutral environment. “The vast majority of workers at Pala’s casino are members of Unite Here,” says union spokesperson Jack Gribbon. “Auburn agreed in their compact in 2004 to allow their workers to organize without antiunion campaigning by the employer … the Big 4 tribes refused to allow their workers an unfettered right to organize. Tribal casinos are not under the jurisdiction of federal nor state workers’ rights and non-discrimination laws. Although, even if they were, we would still argue that workers need the ability to choose a union, or not, without threats or intimidation.”

But CNIGA’s Director of Communications Susan Jensen points out that the right for unions to organize was already included in Prop. IA in 2000. Jensen feels it’s one thing to allow union organizing, and quite another for employers to force it. “Unite Here wanted card check neutrality,” she says, citing a 2003 study by the University of Nevada at Las Vegas that found employees at non-union casinos earned higher wages than Unite Here workers at comparable hotels.

“In the end, we’re in the service industry,” says Mejia. “If we don’t offer good customer service and employees aren’t happy, we won’t do well.” Pechanga pays a minimum wage that’s 64 percent higher than the state minimum and covers over 90 percent of the health care.

Oddly, while Gribbon presents the Pala casino as a model of union organization, Pala Tribal Chairman Robert Smith paints a different picture. The workers didn’t want to unionize, Smith reveals. “When you pay employees well, give them a decent wage and benefits, it’s hard to get them to join a union and pay membership dues. They were already happy.”

In Palm Springs, where the City Council unanimously endorsed all four propositions, the Agua Caliente’s impact is everywhere, from 7,000 new housing units in construction to a bump in year-round residents lured by the jobs. “The casino has revitalized our entire downtown area,” City Manager David Ready notes. “We’re finalizing deals with the Hard Rock and the Mondrian hotels adjacent to our new convention center, and the casino is an important component to all of this.”

In blue-collar San Pablo, where the Lytton Band of Pomo Indians rolled out 500 bingo machines in an expanded card club in 2005 to Bay Area community protests, the economic boon is less obvious. Still, the casino has created 600 union jobs in an economically challenged area, says Lytton communications director Doug Elmets. It’s expected that the Lyttons will oppose the propositions. “Tribes in poor areas don’t have 25 percent to pay to the state. When these four casinos flood their floors with slots, where is the incentive for patrons to go to the smaller casinos?”

Scott Macdonald’s experience with Indian gaming propositions has been noteworthy. Last time out, he worked the other side – to defeat the ill-fated Prop. 68 that would have allowed race track owners and Hustler card club owner Larry Flynt the much-coveted slots. “That doesn’t mean the next time we won’t be working with Morongo,” Macdonald says.

And so it goes. Gaming tribes have asserted their right to in-fighting in the past, so that’s nothing new. “The casinos fight each other over turf,” explains Thompson. “They’re stepping on each other toes, going after the same market. More money has been put into California politics than anywhere else. California has more casinos and tribes, and in terms of revenue it’s more than any other state. So it’s just the biggest and that makes it special.”