Horatio was not at the bridge but at a Starbucks on the Evanston-Skokie border.
Our armorless Horatio is Aaron Jaffe, 81, the chairman of the Illinois Gaming Board. He is seen by advocates of gambling expansion as a cantankerous impediment blocking their ravenous army during our revenue-desperate days.
We could have met at Midway or O’Hare and envisioned a time when travelers from Pittsburgh or Rome eschew iPads, Excel spreadsheets or calls home during their layovers and instead play the slots. Airport slots have been included in proposed legislation in Springfield.
We could have met in downtown Chicago or four other spots where new casinos are proposed. We might have convened, too, at our dying, clout-heavy racetracks, which could also get slots, in legislation that Gov. Pat Quinn has threatened to veto.
Or we could have wandered into almost any bar and considered the prospect of downing six or seven Budweisers, then losing our next mortgage payment on video poker.
As many as 75,000 machines could have been installed by now in taverns, clubs, restaurants and truck stops except for both litigation and the methodical (or snail-like, say critics) way the gaming commission seeks safeguards before approving any terminal allowed in legislation that was passed in 2009.
But I decided on this Starbucks since it’s where a cozy group of chums, including Jaffe, regularly show. The chairman, a long-retired state judge, frustrates both political parties, including the likes of Mayor Rahm Emanuel and other politicians who may hold their noses while pressing feverishly for gambling.
“They try to convince everybody that they are doing this for the good of humanity and it’s some panacea for all our problems,” Jaffe said.
The legislation has had a roller-coaster history and a redrafted version might surface as early as Nov. 29.
This Starbucks is a caffeinated sanctuary in a small corner of the casino battlefield. Both Jaffe and State Representative Lou Lang, a key casino supporter, live nearby, just a mile away from each other in Skokie.
On the surface, they might seem intergenerational conjoined twins of a political sort. They are Jewish liberal Democratic lawyers who have represented Skokie in Springfield and trace their political origins to Democratic politics in Niles Township. When Skokie had two state representatives, Jaffe represented the northern half and Alan Greiman the southern half.
Soon after Jaffe became a state judge, Greiman became one, too, and was succeeded in Springfield by Lang, who also has Jaffe’s former post as Democratic committeeman for Niles Township.
Lang is left-of-center on social issues but carries chips for the casino industry and openly derides Jaffe. He also duels with State Senator Terry Link, Democrat of Vernon Hills, to be perceived as top dog in delivering for gambling interests.
And while you can almost hear Ethel Merman belting out “Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better,” Lang and Link are united in their animus toward Jaffe, a surprise pick for chairman by Gov. Rod R. Blagojevich in 2005.
“I was in a deli in California when my phone rang, and it was Lon Monk,” Jaffe said, referring to the former, subsequently convicted, top aide to Blagojevich. “I didn’t know Monk and, to this day, have never met Blagojevich.”
“I had no interest in gaming, don’t gamble and don’t even favor the concept of supporting education with gambling,” he added.
The surprise regulator and his team have done well, and the state has avoided big scandals. Their most notable achievements are rightly revoking a license for a prospective but ethically-questionable Emerald Casino in Rosemont and the rebidding of a license that ultimately went to the new Rivers Casino in Des Plaines.
Theirs is an inherently complex oversight function and, Jaffe revealed to me, they recently uncovered a counterfeit credit card ring of con artists posing as patrons at Rivers.
But key legislators see Jaffe as too old, too disengaged from their process and a one-man peanut gallery who predicts that claims for casino revenue are overblown.
“Gaming is down everywhere except in Macao,” he told me.
The bullies of Springfield probably can’t locate Macao on a map. But they also may not confirm Jaffe for another term, regardless of the legislation’s outcome.
It could be the price of being Horatio on a slots-filled bridge.
by JAMES WARREN | Nov 20, 2011
Horatio was not at the bridge but at a Starbucks on the Evanston-Skokie border.
Our armorless Horatio is Aaron Jaffe, 81, the chairman of the Illinois Gaming Board. He is seen by advocates of gambling expansion as a cantankerous impediment blocking their ravenous army during our revenue-desperate days.
We could have met at Midway or O’Hare and envisioned a time when travelers from Pittsburgh or Rome eschew iPads, Excel spreadsheets or calls home during their layovers and instead play the slots. Airport slots have been included in proposed legislation in Springfield.
We could have met in downtown Chicago or four other spots where new casinos are proposed. We might have convened, too, at our dying, clout-heavy racetracks, which could also get slots, in legislation that Gov. Pat Quinn has threatened to veto.
Or we could have wandered into almost any bar and considered the prospect of downing six or seven Budweisers, then losing our next mortgage payment on video poker.
As many as 75,000 machines could have been installed by now in taverns, clubs, restaurants and truck stops except for both litigation and the methodical (or snail-like, say critics) way the gaming commission seeks safeguards before approving any terminal allowed in legislation that was passed in 2009.
But I decided on this Starbucks since it’s where a cozy group of chums, including Jaffe, regularly show. The chairman, a long-retired state judge, frustrates both political parties, including the likes of Mayor Rahm Emanuel and other politicians who may hold their noses while pressing feverishly for gambling.
“They try to convince everybody that they are doing this for the good of humanity and it’s some panacea for all our problems,” Jaffe said.
The legislation has had a roller-coaster history and a redrafted version might surface as early as Nov. 29.
This Starbucks is a caffeinated sanctuary in a small corner of the casino battlefield. Both Jaffe and State Representative Lou Lang, a key casino supporter, live nearby, just a mile away from each other in Skokie.
On the surface, they might seem intergenerational conjoined twins of a political sort. They are Jewish liberal Democratic lawyers who have represented Skokie in Springfield and trace their political origins to Democratic politics in Niles Township. When Skokie had two state representatives, Jaffe represented the northern half and Alan Greiman the southern half.
Soon after Jaffe became a state judge, Greiman became one, too, and was succeeded in Springfield by Lang, who also has Jaffe’s former post as Democratic committeeman for Niles Township.
Lang is left-of-center on social issues but carries chips for the casino industry and openly derides Jaffe. He also duels with State Senator Terry Link, Democrat of Vernon Hills, to be perceived as top dog in delivering for gambling interests.
And while you can almost hear Ethel Merman belting out “Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better,” Lang and Link are united in their animus toward Jaffe, a surprise pick for chairman by Gov. Rod R. Blagojevich in 2005.
“I was in a deli in California when my phone rang, and it was Lon Monk,” Jaffe said, referring to the former, subsequently convicted, top aide to Blagojevich. “I didn’t know Monk and, to this day, have never met Blagojevich.”
“I had no interest in gaming, don’t gamble and don’t even favor the concept of supporting education with gambling,” he added.
The surprise regulator and his team have done well, and the state has avoided big scandals. Their most notable achievements are rightly revoking a license for a prospective but ethically-questionable Emerald Casino in Rosemont and the rebidding of a license that ultimately went to the new Rivers Casino in Des Plaines.
Theirs is an inherently complex oversight function and, Jaffe revealed to me, they recently uncovered a counterfeit credit card ring of con artists posing as patrons at Rivers.
But key legislators see Jaffe as too old, too disengaged from their process and a one-man peanut gallery who predicts that claims for casino revenue are overblown.
“Gaming is down everywhere except in Macao,” he told me.
The bullies of Springfield probably can’t locate Macao on a map. But they also may not confirm Jaffe for another term, regardless of the legislation’s outcome.
It could be the price of being Horatio on a slots-filled bridge.