Vol. 5, No. 11, November 2008, AC History
Second Chances
In 1976, as the U.S. celebrated 200 years of freedom, New Jerseyans freed Atlantic City from years of decline.
In 1976, the nation’s Bicentennial year, New Jersey voters gave Atlantic City a second chance at glory.
The city had fallen far from its former standing as the “world’s playground.” Jobs had disappeared, infrastructure was decaying, and tourism had dwindled. In 1968, at a testimonial for 500 Club owner Paul “Skinny” D’Amato, city power brokers first discussed casino gambling as a cure for the city’s ills. Within six years, they managed to get a measure on the New Jersey ballot.
The 1974 referendum would have allowed casinos to open anywhere in the state after a local vote. But gambling opponents, including clergymen, advised their constituents to vote no, and the referendum failed.
These were dark days, but some didn’t give up hope. A small citizen contingent pressed for casinos. Without gambling, they argued, the city could not reverse its decline. Some considered them impractical dreamers, but they refused to take no for an answer.
In retrospect, the casino boosters should have been taken more seriously. Gambling was in the middle of a long winning streak. After New Hampshire began the nation’s first modern lottery in 1964, several states, including New Jersey, legalized them. Horse racing had been growing for decades. On the other side of the country, Nevada had proven that casino gaming could be regulated, and Las Vegas had become a neon metropolis on the strength of its tourist economy.
In time, casino supporters were able to swing most of the clergy, including leaders in the powerful Catholic community, and undercut the moral argument against gambling.
The new referendum, specifying that casinos be restricted to Atlantic City, quelled fears of rampant statewide casino-building. In a shrewd political move, advocates had a portion of gaming taxes earmarked for senior citizen programs, thus securing the support of a large voting bloc. Law enforcement and business leaders also spoke in favor of the measure, and the increasing economic desperation of Atlantic City was eloquent testimony to its necessity.
But the city still faced an uphill fight. Anti-casino crusaders declared that gambling would be followed by organized crime, corruption and mass bankruptcies, giving the Garden State a foretaste of Armageddon.
Then casino advocates hired political consultant Sanford Weiner to assist the Committee to Rebuild Atlantic City, the central pro-casino group. Weiner was put in charge of a $1 million campaign fund, an incredible amount of money at the time. The anti-casino groups only raised $21,000.
Weiner’s marketing blitz focused on several themes: “Help Yourself,” reminding voters that casinos could enrich more than their owners; “Atlantic City Only,” which eased fears of a casino in every backyard; and “Casinos Yes,” just in case anyone was in doubt about which way to vote.
The vote came in an election season that was at once cynical and expectant. The Bicentennial stirred patriotic pride, but the Vietnam war and the Watergate scandal had left Americans skeptical about the nation’s leaders. The presidential election pitted Democrat Jimmy Carter against Richard Nixon’s hand-picked vice president Gerald Ford, who had pardoned his scandal-plagued former boss.
In this environment, it made sense to vote for casinos. After all, the prohibition of gambling hadn’t stopped games of chance, and Atlantic City couldn’t be worse off. For senior citizens, the financial assistance promised by the measure was a godsend.
After months of debate, discussion and persuasion, New Jersey voters went to the polls. On November 2, 1976, more than 1.2 million people voted in favor of the referendum—the exact same number who had voted against it two years before. By a margin of 200,000 votes, the measure passed.
With this victory, Atlantic City opened the door to its future. Without the trials and triumph of 1976, it’s a fair bet none of us would be where we are today
The city had fallen far from its former standing as the “world’s playground.” Jobs had disappeared, infrastructure was decaying, and tourism had dwindled. In 1968, at a testimonial for 500 Club owner Paul “Skinny” D’Amato, city power brokers first discussed casino gambling as a cure for the city’s ills. Within six years, they managed to get a measure on the New Jersey ballot.
The 1974 referendum would have allowed casinos to open anywhere in the state after a local vote. But gambling opponents, including clergymen, advised their constituents to vote no, and the referendum failed.
These were dark days, but some didn’t give up hope. A small citizen contingent pressed for casinos. Without gambling, they argued, the city could not reverse its decline. Some considered them impractical dreamers, but they refused to take no for an answer.
In retrospect, the casino boosters should have been taken more seriously. Gambling was in the middle of a long winning streak. After New Hampshire began the nation’s first modern lottery in 1964, several states, including New Jersey, legalized them. Horse racing had been growing for decades. On the other side of the country, Nevada had proven that casino gaming could be regulated, and Las Vegas had become a neon metropolis on the strength of its tourist economy.
In time, casino supporters were able to swing most of the clergy, including leaders in the powerful Catholic community, and undercut the moral argument against gambling.
The new referendum, specifying that casinos be restricted to Atlantic City, quelled fears of rampant statewide casino-building. In a shrewd political move, advocates had a portion of gaming taxes earmarked for senior citizen programs, thus securing the support of a large voting bloc. Law enforcement and business leaders also spoke in favor of the measure, and the increasing economic desperation of Atlantic City was eloquent testimony to its necessity.
But the city still faced an uphill fight. Anti-casino crusaders declared that gambling would be followed by organized crime, corruption and mass bankruptcies, giving the Garden State a foretaste of Armageddon.
Then casino advocates hired political consultant Sanford Weiner to assist the Committee to Rebuild Atlantic City, the central pro-casino group. Weiner was put in charge of a $1 million campaign fund, an incredible amount of money at the time. The anti-casino groups only raised $21,000.
Weiner’s marketing blitz focused on several themes: “Help Yourself,” reminding voters that casinos could enrich more than their owners; “Atlantic City Only,” which eased fears of a casino in every backyard; and “Casinos Yes,” just in case anyone was in doubt about which way to vote.
The vote came in an election season that was at once cynical and expectant. The Bicentennial stirred patriotic pride, but the Vietnam war and the Watergate scandal had left Americans skeptical about the nation’s leaders. The presidential election pitted Democrat Jimmy Carter against Richard Nixon’s hand-picked vice president Gerald Ford, who had pardoned his scandal-plagued former boss.
In this environment, it made sense to vote for casinos. After all, the prohibition of gambling hadn’t stopped games of chance, and Atlantic City couldn’t be worse off. For senior citizens, the financial assistance promised by the measure was a godsend.
After months of debate, discussion and persuasion, New Jersey voters went to the polls. On November 2, 1976, more than 1.2 million people voted in favor of the referendum—the exact same number who had voted against it two years before. By a margin of 200,000 votes, the measure passed.
With this victory, Atlantic City opened the door to its future. Without the trials and triumph of 1976, it’s a fair bet none of us would be where we are today
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