[Nevada Gaming Commissioner Augie] Gurrola ... has been widely respected as a maverick on the commission who represented the general public and the little guy.
Gee. You'd think all the members of a government agency would be serving the general public. It's not supposed to be so unusual that doing so makes one a maverick.
It's an article of faith among Nevadans and non-Nevadans alike that the gaming industry runs the state rather than the other way around—although it doesn't always hold true in practice. A corresponding conviction is held by many, particularly the professional gambling set, that the Nevada Gaming Commission, set up to regulate the casinos, does their bidding instead.
This accused coziness has been thrown into high relief by the recent appointment of John Moran Jr. to the NGC. Moran is one of the city's most juiced-in lawyers, and his clients in the past few years have included the Stratosphere, the owner of the now-defunct Silver City casino, professional gambler Billy Walter's sports book operation and a variety of smaller gaming license holders (taverns, a strip club, etc.). He has often appeared before the NGC on their behalf. Now he will be sitting in judgment of their like.
The Nevada Gaming Control Act of 1959 established the NGC to ensure "public confidence and trust that licensed gaming ... [is] conducted honestly and competitively." The act's policy statement is devoted almost entirely to establishing the public's rights:
• protecting the quality of life of surrounding neighborhoods;
• keeping gaming free of "criminal and corruptive elements";
• warranting open public access to gaming activities;
• maintaining all of the above via strict regulation and licensure "to protect the public health, safety, morals, good order and general welfare of the inhabitants of the State ... and to preserve the competitive economy and policies of free competition of the State of Nevada."
As a creature of the Gaming Control Act and its emphasis on protecting the public, you'd imagine the NGC would be putting the public first in its decisionmaking. You know, that "maverick" thing. But on more than a few occasions, its actions and bespoken mind-set suggest otherwise. Some examples:
• In 2001, the casinos successfully lobbied the state Legislature to allow them to install private gambling salons, specifically citing the 100 to 200 high-rolling "whales" around the world who bet as much as $100,000 a hand at blackjack or baccarat. As the casinos told it, this elite crowd had been eschewing Las Vegas' mandated openness for the privacy accorded them in European and Asian casinos. But when the time came for the NGC to implement specific regulations, it gave in to the casinos' new demands that the private rooms admit clients with lower credit limits and allow a betting minimum of a mere $500. This more lax rule encompasses thousands of gamblers who had previously been served by open-to-the-public high-limit rooms. Only one commissioner, Sue Wagner, thought the disparity enough to vote against it: "I do believe the members of the [legislative] judiciary committee thought this was designed for 100 to 200 people in the world."
• In 2002, the Venetian casino fixed three promotional drawings to favor Asian high-rollers who had suffered heavy gambling losses during the Chinese New Year weekend. Two years later, the Gaming Control Board recommended a $1 million fine on the Venetian for the misconduct, but never held an evidentiary hearing to determine who was ultimately responsible for the riggings and whether it involved criminal conduct to be forwarded to the proper authorities for prosecution. Gaming commissioners publicly lamented this, but went ahead with the fine anyway—a hefty one to be sure, but a relative slap on the wrist given the amount of business the Venetian kept by pacifying its well-heeled losing clients.
• In April, the NGC considered a trial run of placing automated betting terminals in bars for sports betting. As the Las Vegas Sun reported, "Commissioner Art Marshall questioned whether this was a disadvantage to the sports and race books in the casino, since the customer would not visit the casinos and therefore wouldn't spend additional money on site." Is it really Marshall's job to worry about the casinos' bottom line? What happened to the "policies of free competition"? Commissioner Marshall, by the way, enjoys a 40-year friendship with Boyd Gaming chair Bill Boyd and is also a friend and neighbor of Venetian owner Sheldon Adelson.
And now all eyes are turned to the NGC as the wheels are in motion for the MGM Mirage-Mandalay merger. The new company not only would command close to half the rooms on the Strip but control as much as 40 percent of the well-paying Strip job pool, pose an economic power before which vendors would have to genuflect and potentially hold unprecedented political sway.
Gaming commissioners have withheld comment on the deal until they've been able to peruse all the information, and that's as it should be. But given the ease with which MGM's takeover of the Mirage was approved, as well as Station Casinos' buying spree over the last few years, and the Boyd-Coast merger just last month—all coupled with the NGC's less-than-stellar regulatory history—one would be forgiven for thinking that NGC approval of the deal was a fait accompli.
Right now, it's a guessing game as to whether the Federal Trade Commission will examine the merger's impact only in the grand scheme of gaming and entertainment options nationwide—MGM Mirage and Mandalay's favored approach—or if it will focus on the distinct effect the deal will have on the Strip as a "relevant market," to use the preferred regulatory term.
If the FTC goes the former route, it will be up to the Nevada Gaming Commission to take up the slack and look out for Nevada's interests. The interests of its people and its small businesses—not just the casinos, and not just profits if it comes at the expense of the overall public good.
Whose interests will it put in front?
Jeremy Parker writes about politics biweekly. His website is lasvegasweblog.blogspot.com.