Return to Nicholas Johnson's Coralville Rain Forest Web Site
 
 

Then there was the tropical rain forest.

Widely panned by the media as an egregious waste of taxpayer dollars, the $280-million project sprang to life when Sen. Charles Grassley, R-Iowa, the powerful chairman of the Senate's Finance Committee, tacked $50 million for "the world's largest indoor rain forest" onto the Omnibus Appropriations Bill in January 2004.

Thanks to Kehl's group, which saw the rain forest as another draw for his resort, Riverside is one of several communities vying for the project. And Kehl has already picked out a spot for the rain forest - the old F.W. Schnoebelen homestead, right next to the casino.

[Note: This material is copyright by The Daily Iowan, and is reproduced here as a matter of "fair use" for non-commercial, educational purposes only. Any other use may require the prior approval of The Daily Iowan.]

Erik Farseth, Iowa City's legal card parlors

When the Riverside Casino opens in September, it promises to be Iowa's premier gambling facility. But what if you built a casino and no one bothered to show up?

Bettors don't have to drive 15 miles to Riverside - gambling is everywhere. You can bet in Texas Hold 'em games right here in Iowa City.

Riverside is so small that it seems almost everybody is related to - or married to - a Schnoebelen, a Thomann, a Schneider, or a Kron.

"You have to watch what you say about people," says Joan Bex, former editor of the Riverside Current, now Deputy City Clerk.

They were caught unprepared. The tornado rolling through their quiet little town was unlike any they had seen before.

Sure, towns such as Riverside, with their open fields, trailer parks, and low-slung buildings are vulnerable for all kinds of storms that kick up everything under creation.

Riverside residents share their thoughts on the casino resort coming to town this fall.

A look at Osceola, an Iowa town slightly larger than Riverside that has had a casino for several years. Various people share
their thoughts on what it's meant to the town.

The local opponents to gambling in Riverside had just six weeks to try to stop the casino.

The pro-casino effort was fueled by the best consultants money could buy - an out-of-state political powerhouse that had helped deliver victories to former President Bill Clinton and U.S. Senators Tom Harkin and Barack Obama.

Gambling at Iowa casinos and racetracks has become as much a part of the state as hogs, soybeans, and Hawkeye football.

Since casino gambling was legalized more than 20 years ago, the state has reaped billions of dollars in revenue and taxes. Last year, the state earned a staggering $320 million from casinos, racetracks, and the lottery.

Eric Kochneff, Just how far does $100 go?

The player next to me, a wrinkled old guy nursing a watered-down Coke, wore a tan beret, Carhartt jacket, and jeans.

"You here to change our luck?" he asked with a grin.

"Only if it'll help me," I replied, as I placed a crisp $100 bill onto the blackjack table, cracking my knuckles.

Not everyone's a loser.

Forget what you might have heard. You can win big on slot machines. It doesn't happen often, but it happens.

On July 12, James Fifer, a supervisor at an Illinois propane-tank assembly plant, hit the $1.87 million jackpot on a Wheel of Fortune slot machine at Terrible's Mark Twain Casino in La Grange, Mo. - just days after another player had taken home $2.1 million on a Wheel of Gold slot.

Credit counselor Tom Coates knows the consequences of gambling addiction. Every week, the counselors who work for his
nonprofit agency, the largest of its kind in Iowa, sees up to 10 gambling addicts drowning in debt.

"We are in the midst of a gambling explosion," says Coates, director of Consumer Credit of Des Moines, who notes that
Iowa's bankruptcy rate is soaring at the same time residents have the greatest opportunities to gamble legally.

Beneath the glitz and glamor that casinos project, there are countless gamblers who have stories of compulsion, loss, and
despair. These are two of those stories.

Thelma

Over 72-straight hours, Thelma wrote $7,000 in bad checks and maxed out four credit cards - so she could gamble nonstop at the Isle of Capri Casino in Bettendorf.

The sidewalks are empty, save the rustling leaves that linger from the fall. Dilapidated store fronts - most with Closed or For Sale signs in the windows - line First St., which doubles as State Highway 22 for drivers on the way to somewhere else.

One abandoned downtown storefront is a graveyard for broken-down refrigerators, washing machines, and TVs.

Last May, Amish farmer Herbert Mast and father Lloyd parked their horse and buggy and climbed into neighbor Barb Immermann's blue Saturn for the 120-mile journey to Johnston, Iowa, to testify before the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission. There they joined 18 other Kalona residents who opposed the licensing of a new casino in nearby Riverside.

Drivers on Interstate 35 can't miss the gigantic sign - a huge cowboy with a red vest, white shirt, and black hat. The cowboy, named Terrible, beckons gamblers to Terrible's Lakeside Casino Resort, four miles east of Osceola (pop. 4,659). Residents
of the Clarke County town voted to allow gambling nine years ago.

Washington County Sheriff Jerry Dunbar leans back and clicks a black pen. He knows he has a problem down the road - 24
miles to be exact.

What's on his mind these days is the Riverside Casino, scheduled to open in just four months. Iowa's newest and largest gambling resort is expected to dump as many as 1.6 million people a year in Dunbar's backyard.

To the people of Riverside, Captain Kirk is family.

Every year, they celebrate the birthday of Star Ship Captain James T. Kirk, and this year was no exception. More than two dozen Riverside residents showed up this year to mark the occasion in the back room at Murphy's Bar & Grill.

These days, a futuristic starship is Riverside's most popular symbol, but it was trains that led to the city's founding in 1872.

When Jessie Boyd heard that the Muscatine Western Railroad would be coming through his property, he and three other men plotted the land between the Iowa and English Rivers destined to become Riverside.

Carol Montz isn't bothered by the new casino opening in Riverside.

"Quite frankly, we have other issues to worry about, besides a casino," said Montz, the superintendent of Highland Community Schools, dismissing the new Riverside Casino and Resort as a non-issue.

Truckloads of dirt, orange road-closed signs, and cut-down trees surround hundreds of acres, as construction crews busily
work to finish the Riverside Casino for its September grand opening.

All this commotion is closing in on car mechanic Douglas Swailes, 46, who owns a modest two-story beige home that casino officials want to buy to make room for a championship golf course.

At the heart of downtown Riverside, the city's elders gather in a redbrick building for lunch. They share news of deaths, births, and recent illnesses. When the topic of the casino comes up, they seem intrigued.

"I know I'll go to the buffet," says Joanne.

A billboard on Interstate 380 announces in stylish black type, "Riverside Casino and Golf Resort: Opening Fall 2006."

Casino owner Dan Kehl says the jumbo announcement is part of a regional strategy to deliver as many as 1.6 million visitors to Iowa's newest gambling destination.

It's the stuff of bedtime stories, tall tales, and Mark Twain novels.

Midwest boy from a large family grows up on the Mississippi, one of five children of riverboat parents who make their living on the river. Pretty soon, gambling comes to town, and the family is forced to adapt, eventually opening a casino of their own.

When the Riverside Casino opens in September, it promises to be Iowa's premier gambling facility. But what if you built a casino and no one bothered to show up?

Bettors don't have to drive 15 miles to Riverside - gambling is everywhere. You can bet in Texas Hold 'em games right here in Iowa City. And it's mostly legal. The Yacht Club and American Legion Post 17 host weekly poker games, and local home poker games are advertised in chat rooms and bulletin boards.

But that's just the tip of the iceberg: The real action is taking place in online casinos, where there are no betting limits, few restrictions, and where anyone over the age of 18 is free to gamble all they want - in the privacy of their own home. With billions of dollars being waged over the Internet, websites such as Full Contact Poker, are giving amateurs the opportunity to play against the pros. The most popular site - PartyPoker.com -boasts it pays out more than $4 million every day.

So who needs a casino in Riverside?

Though some visitors may be drawn by the irresistible all-you-can-eat buffet, yet-to-be-determined lounge singers, and whirling slot machines, a trip to Riverside probably wouldn't be very appealing for any college student hoping to land a coveted spot on the next World Poker Tour. To be a champion poker player is to be more than just a winner: In an era of televised sports coverage, professional gamblers are celebrities.

Forget baseball. Poker is the new national pastime. Half of all college-age men admit to betting on cards at least once a month, according to the Annenberg Public Policy Center, which estimates that 2.9 million young people gamble in an average week. This includes informal frat-house games as well as Internet casinos.

"Gambling has always been illegal in Iowa, except at a licensed venue," says David Werning, a spokesman for the Social and Charitable Gambling division of the state Department of Inspections and Appeals. "There are a few exceptions … but poker tournaments have always been illegal in Iowa."

But that hasn't stopped gambling from flourishing throughout the state.

The law does permit the licensing of bars and charitable organizations, and that's what you'll find here in Iowa City. "We have a social gambling license," says Pete McCarthy, who works at the downtown Yacht Club, which has a license that permits customers to engage in gambling on the premises. "We're just providing people with a place to play. We make zero money off the actual games."

For the Yacht Club, offering poker on the premises is a chance to sell a few more drinks. "Normally, we'd be closed on a Monday night," McCarthy says.

Such establishments must abide by the state's rules: no house, no dealer or croupier ("everyone has the opportunity to shuffle the cards," says Werning), no profiting from social gambling, and no one is allowed to win or lose more than $50 in a single night. Though rarely enforced, the same rules apply to anyone who plays poker with friends at home.

At the American Legion Hall in Iowa City, a mixture of middle-aged poker players and college students is lining up to pay $10 each in exchange for 400 poker chips. Complimentary copies of Card Player College, a full-color glossy magazine, are stacked near the door. The magazine mixes epic "tales of champions" with a little T & A; go to its official website (www.cardplayer.com/cpcollege) and you can download photos of the latest Card Player Girls.

Tonight is a slow night. Thirty-four players are seated around four green-felt poker tables. Most of the older players are drinking Cokes, while the college students are guzzling pitchers of beer. As the cards are shuffled, one of the organizers, Jennifer Villhauer, announces that there will be a $10 bounty on last week's champion. As co-host of the twice-weekly Texas Hold 'em games at American Legion Post 17, Vilhauer is not above playing a little poker herself.

Everyone seems to know one another, and the waitress is teasing one of the regulars, a guy named Tom. There's no swearing allowed during the tournament, though every once in a while, someone slips up and curses. Soon it's down to three tables.

As the bettors run out of poker chips, the play shifts to the bar. There, players are collecting money for their own side games. It's low-stakes gambling - $5 per person per game - and as players are eliminated, new side games are erupting in other parts of the room.

Texas Hold 'em is a variant of stud poker, with players combining the two cards in their hand (the hole) with five community cards (the first three, the flop; the fourth, the turn (or fourth street); and the fifth, the river) to create the best possible hand. As the play progresses, the minimum bet increases.

Though Texas Hold 'em dates back to the early 1900s, it was not until 1998 that the Cadillac of poker games entered the national consciousness. That was the year when Ed Norton and Matt Damon starred in the cult movie *Rounders*, a gambling film that incorporated footage from the World Series of Poker. Future poker sensation Chris Moneymaker (yes, that's his real name) has said that *Rounders* is what inspired him to take up Texas Hold 'em.

In the two-and-a-half years since the American Legion first started hosting Texas Hold 'em tournaments, the Iowa City post has seen its fortunes come and go. At its peak, the Legion hall was attracting 120 people, twice a week, with $275 payouts for no-limit Texas Hold 'em games. There were hardly enough tables to accommodate the crowds, and games spilled over into the bar. The organizers were turning people away at the door.

But that was before the state of Iowa started cracking down on gambling at fraternal organizations.

"The Department of Inspection and Appeals came by to clarify," says American Legion service officer Mike Hull. Having "clarified" the law, the agency issued a warning.

Though the Legion had raised more than $8,000 for local charities, the hall's poker tournaments were threatening its liquor license. Under the Bona Fide Contest rules of the Iowa gambling code, there is no limitation placed on "[c]ribbage, bridge, chess, checkers, dominoes, pinochle, and similar contests …" But the Legion's poker nights were subject to a different set of rules.

"They considered blackjack and poker a parlor game …" says Hull. "I said, 'This is stupid. You've got bingo nights where you can win $2,500 in a single night!'"

Hull has been working with two members of the State Senate to try to change the law. "The people who play bingo are predominantly older females," he says. "The American Legion is mostly younger males. They like the competition of a card tournament."

Ever since the $50 limit went into effect, the Legion has been losing many of its players to such places as the Yacht Club.

"It makes me mad," says the Legion's Villhauer. "We're complying with the law, and it is not."

The Yacht Club denies breaking any such law.

"We only sell a maximum of $10 worth of chips," says McCarthy. Players can cash out at any time.

"We don't do tournaments," McCarthy adds. "That's how some of the Legion halls got into trouble … Other places were having $300-$400 payouts. So people weren't going to the casinos. And the casinos complained."

On a recent Monday night, players at the Yacht Club are obtaining extra chips. Whether they are doing so at the bar or are simply buying chips off the other players is a bit unclear. A Yacht Club regular says players buy in for $10 at a time, and they'll repeat this procedure, if needed, eight or 10 times throughout the evening.

When a young man in a blue baseball cap runs out of chips for the second time, he starts throwing down $5 bills and playing.

It wasn't until recently that Iowa's riverboat casinos started hosting Texas Hold 'em games. "Poker wasn't that popular," says Jack Ketterer, the administrator for the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission. "And it took up a lot of floor space." With limited space aboard the boats, slot machines mean greater revenue per square foot.

Texas Hold 'em presents a challenge for the 24-hour casinos. "It's different from the other casino games," says Ketterer, "in that the player is not against the house. The player is against the other players, and the house just rakes a commission off of each pot. You couldn't go to a casino and necessarily be assured that [Texas Hold 'em] would be played at any given time. So that's one of the reasons why poker is popular online."

Though Internet casinos have been around since 1998, it wasn't until poker tournaments started airing on cable television that online gaming - and Texas Hold 'em - exploded into a $14 billion industry.

With the introduction of tiny lipstick cameras in 2002, the American sports network ESPN beefed-up its coverage of the World Series of Poker. Since then, the annual card tournament has become a major sporting event. When Chris Moneymaker qualified for the 2003 event - after paying $40 to enter an online tournament - and walked away from the finals with $2.5 million, thousands of would-be moneymakers rushed to embrace Texas Hold 'em. That same year, two other Texas Hold 'em programs debuted on American television: "World Poker Tour" and "Celebrity Poker Showdown," creating the card-playing equivalent of the perfect storm.

By 2005, there were nearly a dozen copycat programs airing on cable television (including "Heads Up Poker," "Ultimate Poker Challenge," "Poker Superstars Tournament," "Poker Royale," "and Hollywood Poker Night"). That same year, 5,619 players competed in World Series of Poker (compared with just six players in 1971) - the majority of whom were amateurs who entered online.

"Internet gambling is and always has been illegal in Iowa," maintains the state's Werning.

But so far, no one has been prosecuted for engaging in betting online. The Internet casinos are all located overseas. In 2002, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that the Wire Act - which prohibits sports betting by telephone - does not apply to Internet casinos. And in April 2005, the World Trade Organization ruled that the United States may be violating free-trade standards by discriminating against foreign online betting companies.

With millions of college students playing online Texas Hold 'em, businesses have been quick to capitalize on the poker phenomenon. Absolute Poker promises one lucky winner free college tuition for a semester ("Win Your Tuition Poker Challenge"), while 25,000 students compete for shares of $135,000 in scholarship money in annual the College Poker Championship - a tournament that's open only to students who are enrolled in an accredited institution of higher learning.

Locally, Yacht Club employee McCarthy says a few people have complained about the bar's Texas Hold 'em nights. But he says gambling that takes place in his bar more regulated than on the Internet.

"The way I look at it, it's the popular thing on TV," says McCarthy. "It's gonna happen. You can't stop it. So it might as well happen in a controlled environment." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Riverside is so small that it seems almost everybody is related to - or married to - a Schnoebelen, a Thomann, a Schneider, or a Kron.

"You have to watch what you say about people," says Joan Bex, former editor of the Riverside Current, now Deputy City Clerk. "It's all kind of personal."

Located 15 miles south of Iowa City, Riverside is a pastoral community of 928 residents that sits atop the banks of the English River. Route 22, which runs through the middle of town, has so little traffic that people often cross the street without looking both ways.

But that will likely change in early September, when Iowa's largest casino resort is set to open in Riverside.

In the summer of 2004, gambling mogul Dan Kehl, wearing a pressed flannel shirt that looked like it had come right out of the box, came to town and unveiled his plans to put a huge gambling resort in Riverside.

For a community reeling from the collapse of family farms, Kehl's scheme seemed to some like a lifeline. "He came to us!" marvels Marj Schnoebelen, a local businesswoman and retired farmer.

Others thought of The Music Man, the Meredith Willson musical in which Professor Harold Hill comes to River City, promising the moon.

Kehl, owner of casinos in Fort Madison and Clinton, came to Riverside promising jobs, investment opportunities, money for schools, and a new fire station.

Kehl offered to put Riverside on the map.

He predicted that each year the resort would attract 1.6 million visitors and earn $83 million revenue, bringing new life to the downtown. Kehl said his $100 million "destination resort" would include a glitzy 58,000-square-foot casino with water attractions, three restaurants, a gift shop, and an entertainment center. It would also have a 204-room hotel and an 18-hole championship golf course designed by Rees Jones, builder of award-winning courses throughout the world.

Many residents were dazzled by Kehl's plans.

Just 15 years earlier, most people in Riverside probably would have found gambling in Iowa unthinkable. At that time, many considered gambling a vice, one that could only be indulged legally in Nevada or Atlantic City.

But times have changed.

In recent years, many forms of gambling - the lottery, scratch cards, TouchPlay machines, poker, casinos, Internet gambling - have joined the American mainstream, and gaming venues have refashioned themselves as family-friendly entertainment centers. Iowa and other cash-strapped states, staggering from federal budget cuts and reluctant to raise taxes, have turned to gambling revenues to fix their budget woes.

With statewide gambling revenues of $320 million last year, some Iowans say the proceeds have helped stanch fiscal bleeding. Yet the profusion of gambling and the state's growing reliance on its revenues have divided the state.

The proposed Riverside project is no exception.

In his early meetings with Riverside's City Council, Kehl asked for sole rights to build a casino and golf resort, plus the city's support for a Washington County referendum to develop the complex.

And Kehl was in a hurry. He demanded an immediate answer on exclusive rights and wanted to push through a countywide vote in less than six weeks.

He told the council that, after the defeat of a casino measure in Linn County and discouraging poll results in Johnson County, he planned to draw clients from those areas by locating his resort just over the line in Washington County.

The Riverside location had another advantage. It would position the casino to attract travelers from Interstate 80, 18 miles to the north, and nearby Highway 218, a segment of the new Avenue of the Saints, which links St. Louis and St. Paul.

Riverside's City Council hastily approved Kehl's bid for exclusive development rights. With the first stage complete, Kehl added the Riverside Casino and Golf Resort to the lineup of gambling proposals before Iowa voters.

The flurry of activity leading up to Washington County's Aug. 31, 2004, referendum plunged residents into chaos, bitterly dividing Riverside and the county.

Local residents, such as Marj Schnoebelen, Bill Poch, and Jerry Murphy, became instant advocates, believing that Kehl's resort was the answer to Riverside's problems.

Certainly, people would be able to make money from Kehl's project.

Schnoebelen and husband Paul, who had recently converted their farm property into Windmill View Subdivision, were seeking prospective buyers.

The day she heard about the resort, Schnoebelen signed up to be a paid canvasser for Kehl, telling locals the casino development would benefit schools. She soon took on another responsibility - head of the casino-backed Washington County Citizens for Good Jobs Committee.

"When I saw Dan Kehl wearing a plaid flannel shirt," she says of their first meeting, "I knew I could trust him."

Bill Poch, Riverside's mayor, drives a truck for the UI laundry service. He hopes the new project will allow him to quit his day job, saying, "I'd like to work full-time on bringing new businesses to Riverside."

Jerry Murphy, owner of Murphy's Bar & Grill, the only tavern remaining in a town that used to have five, says he believes the new resort will bring him more customers and revitalize Riverside's downtown area.

But not everyone backed the casino. Opponents, such as Larry and Tina Thomann, owners of Thomann Welding; Brad Franzwa, a medical researcher at the UI; Jeanine Redlinger, a teacher in Iowa City; and Jim Hussey, then-president of Kalona's Mid-Prairie School Board, quickly formed a grass-roots anti-casino group.

The group opposed the development on a number of grounds, citing University of Northern Iowa research documenting the rise of gambling addiction, crime, and the erosion of families that live near casinos.

The group criticized what it called Kehl's "false economic model," which cast the project as a community asset when, in fact, the more money people lose, the more the casino makes. They questioned Kehl's rosy predictions of a Riverside business boom, especially because the casino would provide restaurants and other amenities designed to keep guests from leaving the premises, rather than traveling three miles to the downtown area.

Hussey and others also expressed concern about the resort's incompatibility with nearby Kalona's Amish community, the largest Amish settlement west of the Mississippi River.

In the weeks before the referendum, Kehl left little to chance. He hired the Illinois-based Strategy Group to wage a slick campaign, bombarding Washington County residents with glossy promotional materials depicting a cruising riverboat casino. In fact, the casino would not be a boat. Nor would it float. It would be a fixed edifice located above the floodplain a half-mile west of the Iowa River. To meet state requirements that water touch the bottom of the structure, engineers designed an elaborate underground bladder system for the building.

Shortly before the vote, Kehl divulged the proposed site of the casino - prime acreage a mile east of Highway 218, land that Riverside would later annex into the city. Meanwhile, Kehl's army of paid canvassers pressed friends and neighbors to support the project and organized a massive get-out-the-vote campaign.

After weeks of rancorous debate and charges of deception from both sides, residents of Washington County voted just before Labor Day. The referendum passed by a slim 352-vote margin.

A day later, in violation of ethics rules that required a full accounting of expenditures five days prior to elections, the pro-casino group made its final payment of some $400,000 to the Strategy Group and other firms involved in the campaign. The Iowa Ethics and Campaign Board later cited the Kehl-backed group for a breach of ethics.

In the end, at a cost of approximately $100 per vote, the pro-casino group outspent opponents 50 to 1.

Eight months later, following several hearings with the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission, the Kehl group was granted a gambling license, the final step required to begin construction. The next day, a photo of a beaming Marj Schnoebelen, her hands clasped together and her eyes cast skyward, appeared in newspapers throughout Iowa.

Meantime, Riverside residents tried to settle back into familiar rhythms - spending days working on the farm, afternoons drinking coffee at the Kwik N Ez, and evenings lounging at Murphy's Bar & Grill or the VFW post.

But tensions remained high and only increased as the ramifications of the new casino became more and more evident.

The Kehl group wanted Riverside to assume responsibility for a new $10 million water and sewer system required by the development.

Project managers announced that the floodplain where they had designed the original golf course was no longer suitable. The golf course would need to move to the rolling hills west of the casino.

And, Kehl said, to build a world-class golf course on the site - a necessity if the resort was to attract tourists - Walnut Avenue, a main north-south artery for locals, would need to closed.

The casino group made real-estate deals with nearby property owners and later reneged on them.

Then there was the tropical rain forest.

Widely panned by the media as an egregious waste of taxpayer dollars, the $280-million project sprang to life when Sen. Charles Grassley, R-Iowa, the powerful chairman of the Senate's Finance Committee, tacked $50 million for "the world's largest indoor rain forest" onto the Omnibus Appropriations Bill in January 2004.

Thanks to Kehl's group, which saw the rain forest as another draw for his resort, Riverside is one of several communities vying for the project. And Kehl has already picked out a spot for the rain forest - the old F.W. Schnoebelen homestead, right next to the casino.

Are there more surprises to come? Most expect there will be.

As the casino's Sept. 10 opening date draws near, the mood in Riverside is a mixture of apprehension and excitement. While they hope the promised boom will materialize, some residents worry. With so many gambling options now available to Iowans, will people come to the casino? Will the results be mixed, as they have been in Osceola, where Terrible's Lakeside Casino Resort opened six years ago?

Will the casino overload schools, attract crime, create addicts, perhaps accelerate the breakup of families, or tease locals into losing their paychecks or their life savings? Will the promised casino jobs be low-wage?

Some townspeople believe the casino will herald the dawn of a new age of prosperity in Riverside. But will the town become a vaunted tourist destination? Will residents enjoy previously unimagined financial security?

One thing is certain. In bucolic Riverside, where the sweet smell of prairie grass in the English River valley now fills the air, life will never be the same. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

They were caught unprepared. The tornado rolling through their quiet little town was unlike any they had seen before.

Sure, towns such as Riverside, with their open fields, trailer parks, and low-slung buildings are vulnerable for all kinds of storms that kick up everything under creation.

But this was a different sort of storm.

The whirlwind that is the Riverside Casino and Golf Resort swept up the residents of Riverside and dropped them, like Dorothy and Toto, in a world they didn't quite understand and weren't ready for.

"I don't think it's something you can prepare for," Mayor Bill Poch said.

"You don't have a crystal ball," said the 56-year old part-time mayor, whose full-time job is driving laundry trucks for the UI. "You want to make the right decisions, but you don't know how they'll turn out, good or bad, in the future."

He speaks with confidence, a trait that belies how far in over his head he may be. He struggles to recall the exact sequence of events that brought the prospect of casino-gambling to his town, only recalling that it began "somewhere near the end of June" 2004, and that "there were a lot of work sessions in there."

The problems started right away.

At a July City Council meeting, Riverside Casino CEO Dan Kehl and manager Joe Massa asked for a letter granting Kehl's group exclusive rights to any gambling development for the next five years. Poch said that meeting was one of the most heavily attended in his memory, with at least 25 people showing up.

While the meeting hall was packed, two of the five city councilors, Brian McDole and Todd Yahnke, did not attend. The council approved the letter by a 3-0 vote. Although the council had a quorum, the decision to move forward was roundly criticized by casino opponents. Poch caught most of the flack for not postponing the vote.

"In retrospect, we should have tabled the meeting," he said. "But even then, I didn't view it as a big deal."

But it was only the beginning.

The problems were compounded by the general lack of experience on the part of nearly everyone involved on the city's side.

Kehl noted that inexperience early on. "It's been a learning experience for us and them," he said, adding that when he and his partners came to town, the councilors appeared to know little about such things as tax-increment funding, or TIF, and how to handle aging infrastructures like water and sewers.

For Kehl, the council sessions seemed "more like town-hall meeting[s]," which contrasted with the paid professional staff and highly structured meetings he was used to when he appeared before other city councils.

In August 2004, Washington County held a referendum to authorize casino gambling, which passed by a margin of 52-48 percent. The animosity kicked up by the referendum pitted neighbor against neighbor, causing old friendships to dissolve and businesses to be boycotted. Poch said even the Kwik N Ez, the town's one-stop shop, lost some business when the owner posted a sign in favor of the casino.

What upset many locals was that Kehl was a wealthy outsider.

He was called a carpetbagger and liar. Some accused him of riding on the coattails of his father, Robert Kehl, who started the first riverboat casino in Iowa in Dubuque.

In fact, it was those negative tactics that may have helped secure the younger Kehl's victory in the referendum, Poch said.

One such tactic was an anti-casino poster in which opponents depicted casino customers as old men and women playing slots while soiling themselves, too entranced with gambling to remove their own feces. The poster invited parodies. One casino proponent hung diapers from a clothesline with a pro-casino message.

In another instance, the fire station came under scrutiny when several volunteer firefighters appeared in a poster advertisement for the casino. The Iowa Ethics and Campaign Disclosure Board investigated and concluded it was more a misunderstanding than anything else.

However, Poch said, members of the opposition took the advertisement to the state attorney general. When word got out that the anti-casino group had been the one to cause trouble for the city's firefighters, opinion turned against them, Poch said.

After the referendum passed, the next step was to determine how the casino would get its water and sewer service. Casino representatives initially promised that there would be no cost to the city for such services. But negotiations eventually reached a stalemate.

At first, the mayor and other city representatives essentially dared the casino to build its own water and sewer - an impasse Poch compared to sitting down at a poker table.

But in the end, he and city engineer Mike Hart decided it wasn't good to have two sewer and water systems in such a small town. As a result, Washington County used its bonding capacity so that Riverside could borrow the $9.4 million needed for the project. The casino had called the town's bluff.

Now, four months from the scheduled grand opening of the most ambitious casino project in Iowa history, there's a sense that the storm may be clearing, and that, while the wreckage wrought by the tornado may not be forgotten, the hope of renewal springs forth.

"I never thought any of this would happen," said 60-year-old City Councilor Mariellen Bower. "This little town will change - for the better, I'm sure.

"But it's going to take a while. I hope I'm alive to see it."

Gambling timeline

• July 15, 2004: Riverside City Council votes to give exclusive rights to develop a casino in the town for five years.

• September 2004: Gambling referendum passes 52-48.

• May 2005: Riverside Casino license approved.

• July 27, 2005: Discussions to close Walnut Road begun.

• Oct. 17, 2005: Riverside finalizes annexation of casino land.

• Sept. 10, 2006: Riverside Resort and Casino scheduled to open. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

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The local opponents to gambling in Riverside had just six weeks to try to stop the casino.

The pro-casino effort was fueled by the best consultants money could buy - an out-of-state political powerhouse that had helped deliver victories to former President Bill Clinton and U.S. Senators Tom Harkin and Barack Obama.

Even the name chosen to launch the pro-casino effort in Riverside - Washington County Citizens for Good Jobs Committee - was ironic given that the campaign's message was shaped 250 miles away in a Chicago suburb.

Longtime Iowa riverboat owner Dan Kehl had a lot riding on the outcome of the August 2004 Washington County referendum, which if passed, would allow him to open his $100-million Riverside Casino and Golf Resort.

To help ensure victory, Kehl shelled out more than $280,000 to The Strategy Group, an Evanston, Illinois-based political consulting firm. The group prides itself on convincing wary voters to side with its clients' interests, suggesting on its website that the firm's expertise can make "the difference between winning and losing in tight races."

The selection of the consultants was one of the pivotal decisions Kehl made that ultimately delivered a 52-48 percent margin of victory in a contentious referendum that fractured not only Riverside, but much of Iowa.

Fifty-three percent of Washington County's 14,800 eligible voters turned out for the August 31, 2004 referendum, which passed by 352 votes.

The Strategy Group wasn't new to Kehl or to the state. The firm had already helped Kehl win victories that allowed him to place casinos in Fort Madison, Clinton and now Riverside. The election consultants boast a 6-0 record in convincing Iowa voters to approve gambling in counties throughout the state.

Of the six public referenda the Strategy Group has helped win in Iowa, only the Mineral City Hotel and Casino in Webster County failed to secure a license from the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission.

Through direct mailing, television, radio and print advertisements, as well as paid vote canvassers, the Kehl-backed pro-casino effort spent up to $470,000 to convince Washington County voters that gambling should come to Riverside.

With such a well-oiled machine to sway voters to back the gambling initiative, the opposition didn't stand much of a chance.

That opposition, the grassroots Citizens Against Riverboat Expansion (CARE) spent "just south of $10,000," says Jim Hussey, a leader among the anti-gambling group's 200 volunteers.

"We had about a hundred times the number of donors than they did, but they only needed one," says Hussey, referring to Kehl.

It was only six weeks before the referendum when Kalona resident Hussey, 45, first learned of the casino and the upcoming ballot issue. He and the other volunteers had to dismantle The Strategy Group's artfully crafted campaign to defeat the gambling initiative.

Although Hussey concedes that he had "not thought two minutes about casinos" in his life, he became one of the key voices of opposition. Hussey says he had two main reasons to fight the casino: concerns that the casino would "cannibalize" local businesses and the social ramifications of legalized gambling.

"Being lucky at the slot machine or roulette table seemed counter to what we're trying to teach our children - that hard work and service to others is how you make your way in the world," he says.

To get out their message, Hussey and a team of volunteers walked door to door, handing out low-budget flyers in an all-out blitz to defeat their opponents.

Meanwhile, the Strategy Group got Kehl's message out with glossy leaflets and slick television and radio spots.

Hussey and his supporters hoped their message would make up in substance what it lacked in style, relying on letters to the editor, yard signs, public forums, and radio ads.

With a master's degree in journalism from Northwestern University and 13 years in public relations and news, Hussey probably had the most local experience to compete against the Chicagoland political consultants.

The central message crafted by the pro-casino Strategy Group was that the casino would economically benefit Washington County schools. This rankled Hussey, a seven-year Mid-Prairie School District board member.

"It was a rationalization to do something they wanted to do anyway," Hussey says. "They justify it by throwing a few pennies back on the dollar that they extract from the community."

The almost half-million dollars Kehl's camp spent on the referendum led former Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission member Mike Mahaffey - who served from 1999-2005 - to stand as the lone vote the following May when the commission voted to grant the Riverside Casino & Golf Resort its license to open.

Mahaffey says that the nearly fifty-to-one lopsided expenditures made by Kehl's group, as well as the political savvy of the Strategy Group, made the difference in the razor-thin referendum results.

"It just shows money can buy some of the best marketing and strategies available," Mahaffey says. "It appears to me people had enough money to go out and capture an election."

The amount of money poured into the Washington County referendum was not the only thing that troubled the state commissioner. Mahaffey says the casino's proximity to the University of Iowa and the incursion upon the traditional Mennonite and Amish communities in Kalona makes the casino a bad fit for Washington County.

He believes there is a connection between alcohol and gambling, which may exacerbate binge drinking on the UI campus. "I think you're just asking for trouble," Mahaffey says. "I thought it was absolutely the last place a casino should go," adding passage of the referendum and the subsequent approval of the gambling license still bothers him profoundly.

Aside from the lure for college students looking to try their luck at Riverside tables and slots, Mahaffey views the Amish - who chose not vote in the referendum - as the forgotten voice since the casino will surely affect them just seven miles away.

"I think had they voted, it may have been defeated," Mahaffey says.

Hussey and Mahaffey say another element might also have swung the election in the opposition's favor: timely financial disclosure as required by Iowa law.

By the day of the referendum, the pro-casino group had not fully disclosed its expenditures, as required by state law. This resulted in a reprimand from the state's Ethics and Campaign Disclosure Board. No fines were incurred by the pro-casino group.

The financial-disclosure irregularity was one of the issues that irritated Mahaffey, who subsequently chose not to serve another term on the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission, even though Gov. Tom Vilsack sought to reappoint him.

Mahaffey says he wasn't surprised by the pro-casino group's tactics. "You come in under the radar and report it as late as you can and hope you sneak by," he says.

For local strategist Hussey, the reason the casino referendum passed had as much to do with money as anything else and the divisions it caused have yet to heal.

"Had it been message against message, I think we would have come out on top," Hussey says.

"I think the county would've been better off if the casino had never entered our conversation. But it did, and we're still picking up the pieces." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Gambling at Iowa casinos and racetracks has become as much a part of the state as hogs, soybeans, and Hawkeye football.

Since casino gambling was legalized more than 20 years ago, the state has reaped billions of dollars in revenue and taxes. Last year, the state earned a staggering $320 million from casinos, racetracks, and the lottery.

If Iowa isn't addicted to gambling dollars, it sure has become dependent on them.

Owners of Iowa's casinos have been powerful political players in Des Moines. As many as 70 Des Moines lobbyists are employed by the gaming industry to promote its interests.

"Good luck to anyone trying to find an anti-gambling lobbyist," says Tom Coates, director of Consumer Credit of Des Moines, a nonprofit agency that counsels gamblers with bankruptcy and other problems associated with chronic gambling.

The main casino lobbying group is the Iowa Gaming Association, which played a pivotal role in persuading the legislature to ban the more than 6,000 Touch-Play machines throughout the state. That ban went into effect Thursday. The reason for the state gaming asociation's opposition to TouchPlay: The machines could cut into casino business.

"I'd say 30 - 40 percent of that ban was caused by the gaming lobby," says Coates, who has been involved in anti-gambling measures across the state for years.

Coates describes the influence from the state's gaming lobby as "the most obvious area of corruption I've ever seen."

Others, though, say that legalized gambling is one of the best things ever to come to Iowa.

"I, personally, think casino gambling has done a lot of good," says State Senator Mary Lundby (R-Marion). When asked what would happen if casino gambling were ever to be banned in Iowa, The Republican party floor leader replied, "Oh, gosh!" then paused to consider the financial ramifications.

Last year, the Iowa General Revenue Fund received more than $110 million from gambling taxes and fees paid by the casinos. This represents more than two percent of the total allocation from the fund.

The rest of the state's gambling bonanza was distributed primarily among four separate accounts - Endowment for Iowa's Health Account ($70 million), Rebuild Iowa Infrastructure Fund ($62 million), Environment First Fund ($35 million), and Vision Iowa ($15 million).

The largest account, the Endowment for Iowa's Health, combines gambling taxes with money awarded to the state in settlements with tobacco companies. Combined with the tobacco dollars, the account is worth more than $700 million today. Money from the fund is used for anti-smoking campaigns, substance-abuse treatment and enforcement, and other health-care needs in the state.

The Rebuild Iowa Infrastructure Fund is used to construct and repair airport facilities, state highways and roads, and parking lots. It also includes provisions for items such as recreation trails and libraries.

The Environment First Fund goes for programs such as Resource Enhancement and Protection, which is run by the Department of Natural Resources. The money is used to improve soil and water conservation, clear roadside vegetation, enhance historical understanding of the state, and to aid conservation education.

Vision Iowa, aimed at improving tourism in the state, is the best-known of these programs. Water seems to be an ongoing theme with Vision Iowa, as every city that has received a Vision Iowa grant has used it in some way to either build a water-theme park or to improve existing water attractions, such as the America's River project in Dubuque.

Iowa's foray into legalized gambling began in 1983. Until then, the only form of legal gambling in Iowa was bingo, and players could find it only in places such as churches, VFW halls, and fraternal groups like the Moose Lodge and the Elks. That all changed when Governor Terry Branstad signed into law the Pari-Mutuel Wagering Act, which legalized betting on horse and dog racing at state licensed tracks.

The gambling ante was raised two years later, when Branstad approved legislation that mandated the creation of a state-owned lottery.

Gambling on excursion boats followed in 1989, as long as voters in the county where the wagering would take place approved a referendum. The law was further modified to allow gambling 24-hours a day, as long as the wagering venue was on or adjacent to a body of water.

In six years, Iowa had gone from bingo to all-out legalized gambling.

Today, there are 16 casinos in Iowa (two of which are owned and operated by American Indian tribes and do not provide any revenue for the state), and three more are under construction, in Riverside, Waterloo, and Emmetsburg. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

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The player next to me, a wrinkled old guy nursing a watered-down Coke, wore a tan beret, Carhartt jacket, and jeans.

"You here to change our luck?" he asked with a grin.

"Only if it'll help me," I replied, as I placed a crisp $100 bill onto the blackjack table, cracking my knuckles.

Behind me was my entourage - Drew, Pat, Adam, and TJ. Unlike in Ocean's 11, there were no beautiful women crowded around our table.

We were in Dubuque on a cloudy and blustery Sunday afternoon at the Diamond Jo's Casino, a riverboat nestled in the harbor on the Mississippi River. Three of my crew had never even set foot inside a casino. It was Pat's 21st birthday, and he wanted to win big.

I had gone to the bank and asked for a new $100 bill. It was the only bill in my wallet, and here I was giving it away.

I was on a mission - to bet a total of $100. Drew was standing behind me with pen and notepad to record each of my bets.

The dealer was thin, lanky, and named Ron. He was wearing the standard red dealer vest. I immediately took a liking to Ron. I'm not exactly sure why, but he gave off good-dealer vibes.

Ron gave me chips with a booming "Changing $100" call to the box man. I placed a $5 chip inside the betting triangle.

At 3:15 p.m., my $100 gambling odyssey began.

On the first deal, my man Ron tossed me an ace.

I knew this guy was good, but this was great.

And it would get better -- Ron tossed me another ace.

NICE!

Being the blackjack ace that I am, I split the aces, placing another $5 chip on the inside of the betting triangle … that Ron promptly moved to the outside.

So now I had two aces and $10 wagered on my first hand. Ron threw me my next card - a jack!

Blackjack!

Sweet. This game was shaping up nicely.

On my next card, though, Ron let me down - a five.

So I had to stand on 16, especially because the dealer was showing a seven.

Ron flipped with an ace for a total of 18. (That made for three aces in the first hand, but I didn't think much about it.)

Ron paid me $7.50 for the blackjack, so I was up $2.50.

It was time to show Ron that I meant business. I placed another $5 chip inside the triangle. Ron sent down the cards. I ended up with a jack and a 10. It was about as solid as it gets.

But not solid enough. Ron turned over an ace and a nine.

Push. At least I didn't lose anything.

Ron and I stayed together for nine more hands. I scored only one more blackjack. By 3:27 p.m., out of my original $100, I was down to $95.

I hadn't lost that much, but come on. I was here to gamble. I wanted to win, and I wanted to win big.

I bid adieu to Ron and the guy in Carhartt, and Drew and I moseyed on over to the roulette table. I had never played roulette, but Drew was familiar with the game and talked me through it. The best way, he said, was to place separate but equal bets on two of the three sets of 12 numbers. I didn't understand his logic (and I don't think it was true) but that's how I started.

I put $5 in chips on the second 12 numbers (13-24) and $5 on the third set (25-36). With a practiced flick of his wrist, the dealer sent the white ball around the spinning wheel. The ball slowed down, jumping in and out of the number slots, finally resting in number 31.

NICE!

I had won $5. It was better than losing but not what I had in mind.

Eight spins of the ball later, it was 4:35 p.m., and I was up a whole $9.

When I checked in with TJ and Adam, I found out I was thus far the big winner. TJ was $40 in the hole. Adam also had lost - but wouldn't tell us how much. Pat said he had won $25 at the blackjack table with Ron. I kicked myself for leaving Ron so early. I knew there was something I liked about him.

We rounded up TJ and Adam and headed upstairs to the slots.

We scoped out the array of flashing, screaming machines. They all were crying out "Play Me!"

Drew wanted to play the Wheel of Fortune slots, but they were all taken. So we decided on a slot all by its lonely self near the balcony. There weren't any old ladies or scurvy-looking men within 10 feet, which you could not say about the majority of slot machines.

I sat down and pulled out two 20s (I had cashed in my chips). The machine snatched up the $40 as fast as I could feed it. This was a quarter machine, but you could double or triple your bet by pushing a button, so that's what I did. How else was I going to win a jackpot?

While being serenaded by a soundtrack of synthesized chirps and squeals, I spun a couple of cherries and a few bar combos. But after 10 minutes, my $40 was gone, and I had no fun giving it away.

The sign coming into the casino read, "Slot Machines deliver 93.5 percent pay out." But that includes all losers and winners - including the grandmother who scores a $1.9 million jackpot. When that trickles down to the average slot player, I bet that 93.5 percent is more like 60 percent.

I decided then and there that slot machines are for suckers. I also noticed that most people at the casino were playing slots. If I could lose $40 in just 10 minutes, what about folks feeding bills into slots all day long?

"To heck with slots," I said, gathering up my crew and heading back to the table games.

I ended up winning back most of my money and then some that day. I got lucky playing roulette again and walked out of the casino $60 ahead, after tossing the roulette dealer a $10 tip and the same to Drew for the record-keeping.

It was a small victory, but considering the times that I had gambled at various casinos, the house was still ahead. I've kept a record of my losses and winnings, and after nine trips, I'm still $70 in the hole.

My friends didn't come away with much that day. Pat ended up taking home $50 more than he came in with, but TJ walked out $100 lighter. Adam walked out with less, but he wouldn't tell us how much he had lost. Adding it up at the end (with an estimation of Adam's losses), Drew and I figured that the house had taken the five of us for about 60 bucks. Not a huge amount of money, but it was $60 that we could have spent on beer, women, or on our moms for Mother's Day. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Not everyone's a loser.

Forget what you might have heard. You can win big on slot machines. It doesn't happen often, but it happens.

On July 12, James Fifer, a supervisor at an Illinois propane-tank assembly plant, hit the $1.87 million jackpot on a Wheel of Fortune slot machine at Terrible's Mark Twain Casino in La Grange, Mo. - just days after another player had taken home $2.1 million on a Wheel of Gold slot.

"It helped us to financially be secure for the rest of our lives," says Fifer, speaking from his home in La Belle, Mo., a small town 150 miles west of St. Louis. "As long as I'm able to keep working, I know that we'll always make it."

With that kind of money, you might think that Fifer would have quit his day job.

Think again.

Since winning, he has yet to take a vacation. "We kinda want to go somewhere, but we haven't, yet," he says.

Fifer says he hopes to start a new side business with the jackpot he won.

"Me and my wife, we cook kettle corn.… We're going to try to get into some craft shows and do our kettle corn as a part-time business."

Winning the jackpot gave Fifer the freedom to spend more time with his ailing mother.

"You see, my mother was ill," he says. "And we didn't really have a lot of money before I won… Actually, I probably shouldn't have been there gambling, if you want to know the truth. Not that I was in trouble or anything - 'cause I had a job. But we had bills."

Fifer's mother died in February. "I took some days off from work every week to assure her of her wish to pass on at home. So me and some of my brothers and my wife… we took care of her there."

Since then, he's been thinking about his future. "I could retire at an early age, if I wanted to. But I don't know what I want to do."

He says he still plays the slots from time-to-time. "Not much, though."

An occasional gambler, Fifer says he never cared much for card games. "I just always played slots," he says. "Usually the Wheel of Fortune, 'cause I liked hitting that spin."

The Wheel of Fortune is a progressive jackpot, which means that the game is linked to a statewide computer network. The more people around the state play the game, the more the jackpot increases over time. Using images and sound from the popular TV game show, "Wheel of Fortune," the machine gives players the chance to spin for extra credits in a bonus round. A player who qualifies for the bonus hits a button to activate a miniature wheel, located above the spinning reels. To win the jackpot, a player needs to get three "Wheel of Fortune" insignias in a row.

So when the winning match came up, what was going through Fifer's mind?

"I don't really remember," he says.

What Fifer does remember is being treated very well.

"They gave us something to eat and drink and gave us some cokes," he says. Fifer and his family had to wait around for a while "'cause they had to verify that the machine actually hit - that it wasn't rigged-up or something."

Fifer recalls that the casino manager came out of an office and spoke to Fifer about his windfall. "His advice was to invest it and don't get in a hurry to make a decision and that if I did that, I would probably succeed for the rest of my life."

Fifer says he is grateful to the manager for taking the time to describe some of the pitfalls of suddenly having a lot of money. "He was pretty generous about explaining how some of the winners end up broke in 10 or 15 years."

When Fifer's winnings were certified, the casino handed him a giant check for $1.87 million. The casino took photos of Fifer receiving the check.

Fifer chose to take his winnings as a lump sum, rather than settling for annual payments.

Casino winnings count as income for the purpose of taxation, says Jack Ketterer, the administrator of the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission. Fifer's winnings were a lot smaller once the government took a bite. As a married man, filing jointly, Fifer would be expected to pay an estimated $630,000 in taxes on the $1.87 million jackpot.

"But money ain't everything to me," says Fifer. "Really, it's being happy." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Credit counselor Tom Coates knows the consequences of gambling addiction. Every week, the counselors who work for his nonprofit agency, the largest of its kind in Iowa, sees up to 10 gambling addicts drowning in debt.

"We are in the midst of a gambling explosion," says Coates, director of Consumer Credit of Des Moines, who notes that Iowa's bankruptcy rate is soaring at the same time residents have the greatest opportunities to gamble legally. "These numbers are not coincidental," he says.

The areas within a 40-mile radius of each of Iowa's 19 casinos show much higher incidents of alcoholism, drug use, crime, divorce, bankruptcy, domestic violence, prostitution, and suicide, says studies conducted by Coates' agency. Unlike Nevada - a tourist model that draws in revenue from outside the state - Iowa's casinos draw from mostly Iowans, who often are in lower-income brackets, says Coats.

"You are taking money away from good people and channeling it into social pathologies," says Coates, citing a University of Illinois study that found for every $1 a casino nets, the rest of the state loses $2 in debt charge-offs, increased insurance rates and crime, and welfare payments for people thrown into the social system.

Coates considers the casino coming to Riverside "a scam."

"They weren't going to get it passed in Linn County or Johnson, so they went to a border county and a dying town where they could get it passed and still suck revenue from the more populated counties," he says. "The state turned a blind eye to that, which is nothing new."

Coates accuses the state of ignoring problems associated with Iowa's expanding gambling market, demonstrated by what he calls insufficient and poorly administered studies, as well as a reliance on uninvestigated statistics.

Coates says the casino industry's often-cited the statistic that only 1 percent of the population has a gambling problem is wrong.

UI psychiatrist Donald Black, an expert on compulsive gambling, also charges that the state is basing its estimates on woefully inaccurate figures.

"The numbers falsely reassure legislators, because they are artificially low," he says. "I can tell you that many pathological gamblers are embarrassed to admit - even to me - that they have a problem, and research shows that only about 10 percent of compulsive gamblers ever come forth. They are only seeing the tip of the iceberg."

Black, whose patients have no problem driving one or two hours to gamble in Osceola and the Quad Cities, says that prevalence of gambling addictions is much higher the closer casinos are to bettors.

When the casino arrives in Riverside, he anticipates the numbers of problem gamblers to rise drastically. He expects that UI students who are old enough to enter the casino will be among those who develop problems.

Like Coates, he says the casino will ultimately hurt the local economy.

"Supporters say it brings money because of the taxes and the businesses that employ people, but service industry wages tend to be low," he says. "It's hard to imagine people will come from outside the state to head to Riverside. Most of the business will come from a person's discretionary income from around here instead of channeling it in to other sectors of the economy. And the people who'll gamble the most are the ones who can't afford it."

About the only silver lining that Black sees with the opening of the Riverside Casino is that eastern Iowa will become a research gold mine for him.

"One thing is clear, the UI will have plenty of subjects with pathological gambling to study for the next 20 years. It's quite tragic, really." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Beneath the glitz and glamor that casinos project, there are countless gamblers who have stories of compulsion, loss, and despair. These are two of those stories.

Thelma

Over 72-straight hours, Thelma wrote $7,000 in bad checks and maxed out four credit cards - so she could gamble nonstop at the Isle of Capri Casino in Bettendorf.

The 53-year-old Cedar Rapids woman had hit rock bottom.

Without a dime in her purse - and not having slept or eaten in three days - she returned home, where her husband of 23 years was waiting at the door.

"I wasn't gonna say, 'I'm sorry,' because those words are too pitiful and didn't mean anything," Thelma says now. "I was sick, and I needed help."

That was three years ago, and Thelma says she hasn't gambled since.

It hasn't been easy. For many problem gamblers, such as Thelma, gambling becomes their reason to live. "At the casinos, everyone is happy to see you, and no one tells you what you can and can't do," she says. "You're in your own little world."

Thelma started gambling at 15, playing cards with her father, who taught her "you play cards better when you play for money - it helps you concentrate." In her 20s, she shifted to church bingo, and, later, when casino-gambling became legal in Iowa, she and her husband often went to Tama on weekends. She recalls that, at the time, she thought her gambling was "controlled."

But during the day while she worked from home, she says she began to obsess about getting to the casino, 51 miles away. Soon, Thelma would bolt for the casino every night, 10 minutes after husband left for his night job. She'd arrive back home a half hour before him.

Even though at the time Iowa casinos had $200-a-day limit for individual losses, Thelma found a way around the state regulation. After the state cap was lifted, Thelma became a master of quick and easy cash. She learned how to get instant $10,000 cash advances on her credit cards. She cashed in life-insurance policies, borrowed against her car, and received cash-advance loans - many of which carry up to a 400-percent-annual interest rate. Thelma kept her finances separate from her husband's. She described herself as an "excellent liar."

"I was always chasing money to gamble," she says. "A $100 bill in my hand was like Monopoly money. Enough was never enough."

After the episode at the Isle of Capri casino, Thelma's husband told her - even though he said he still loved her - if she ever gambled again, he'd divorce her.

To keep "clean," Thelma enrolled in biweekly Gamblers Anonymous meetings in Cedar Rapids, which included getting a sponsor, whom she'd call whenever she had an urge to gamble. Thelma turned her finances over to her husband. Her checks now require both her signature and his, and she has a $1 cash limit on her debit card. In addition, Thelma set up what she calls "roadblocks," including a self-declaration that the casinos must not admit her.

How much did Thelma lose over the last 20 years?

She won't say.

She does admit to missing gambling, though. "The easiest way to explain it is that you just buried your best friend."

She has swapped gambling for healthier activities, such as golf and spending time with her grandchildren. She now has what she describes as a positive relationship with her husband. "What I did to my husband was the same as having an affair, not physically, but emotionally," she says. "I was sneaking and running around. It took a while to get the trust back.

"The fear of losing my family is what keeps me clean."

Tom

When Tom's wife of 30 years left him, the 57-year-old driver's-education teacher from Cedar Rapids drove the "Student Driver" car out to Lake Macbride State Park in the middle of the night. He plugged up the car's tailpipe with a towel and swallowed handfuls of Tylenol and aspirin. Tom passed out, and, when he came to in a groggy stupor, his car had somehow crashed into a tree.

Like his efforts to quit gambling, Tom's suicide attempt was a failure.

Tom spent the next two weeks in a medical psych ward because of liver damage from the drug overdose and to keep him from attempting suicide again.

He knew he was an addicted gambler but never expected sports betting to cost him everything.

Tom started gambling 15 years ago and, like many problem gamblers, was able to control his betting for a while. As the years went on, he started to place more and more bets through a bookie in Cedar Rapids. As the losses piled up, he took out loans to cover his debts.

When his wife discovered he was hooked, she left him for the first time. Devastated, Tom entered a gambling-rehabilitation program and for a year was clean. His wife returned, and it seemed Tom's recovery would be permanent - until a misguided bout of swagger changed everything.

When Tom's wife went to visit family in Chicago for the weekend, Tom had a nagging impulse to hit the riverboat in Dubuque. "For some reason, I thought it'd be all right," he says. "I was wrong."

After losing $2,500 of his family's savings in minutes, he returned home and waited out telling his wife.

It was too late. Back in Cedar Rapids, his wife checked the couple's bank statements online and saw the withdrawal.

This time, she was gone for good.

"I love my wife. I blew everything in one night," says Tom.

Tom's total gambling losses, he says, were $12,000 - much less than most compulsive gamblers, who can easily rack up six-figure debts. The school district fired Tom because of the incident at Lake Macbride. His wife has filed for divorce, and the couple's home is now up for sale.

"I'm 57 years old," he says. "The future doesn't look too bright."

Tom vacillates between wishing that he would have succeeded in his suicide attempt and feeling fortunate to have failed. Now enrolled in a gambling-treatment center - Anchor Point Counseling in Cedar Rapids - he says he hopes his story will help other gamblers.

He says he is certain the Riverside casino will make things worse for gamblers in the area and plans to speak out about the dangers of the nearby casino at a gambling-treatment conference.

"Anybody wants to argue with me about gambling, I can tell them what can happen," he says. "I keep hoping and praying I won't gamble again, because, next time, I might not make it through." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

The sidewalks are empty, save the rustling leaves that linger from the fall. Dilapidated store fronts - most with Closed or For Sale signs in the windows - line First St., which doubles as State Highway 22 for drivers on the way to somewhere else.

One abandoned downtown storefront is a graveyard for broken-down refrigerators, washing machines, and TVs. A weatherworn wooden sign advertises the office of a newspaper that moved to neighboring Wellman two years ago.

Of the few businesses remaining in Riverside (pop. 928), most aren't even open five days a week.

But all that could change when the Riverside Casino and Golf Resort, touted as one of Iowa's premier destinations, opens in September, a few miles east of downtown.

Jerry Murphy, owner of Murphy's Bar and Grill, couldn't be happier about the new developments taking place in the sleepy southeast Iowa town. Murphy has been waiting for this moment since he opened his tavern a decade ago.

An optimist, Murphy was sure Riverside was going to grow like many of the other small towns surrounding nearby Iowa City.

But five years went by, and nothing happened. Murphy began to wonder, "When will it be Riverside's time?"

"Well, when is now!" said Murphy, 45.

With the casino scheduled to open in just four months, Murphy sounded like he was about to rake in a jackpot. "The downtown businesses will start to fill up. It'll happen," said Murphy, wearing a Budweiser cap, a Murphy's t-shirt, and a greasy apron, while preparing three pans of lasagna for parent-teacher conferences.

Down the road is the Kwik N Ez, a one-stop gas station, grocery, and deli that serves up fried chicken and 48-cent cups of coffee (35 cents for a refill). Four craggy men sat in booths and argued about gas prices, who owns Panama these days, and whether the Kwik N Ez's Special of the Day - pork egg rolls - was too exotic for their tastes.

Owner Becky LaRoche, sporting a Farrah Fawcett haircut and blue eye shadow, says she's excited about the possibilities that the casino will bring to town.

"It sounds like it's going to be very elite, which says a lot about little Riverside," said LaRoche.

Although most downtown business owners said they're looking forward to what they hope will be a surge of tourists coming into town, LaRoche isn't banking on them. She said she thinks her business will increase from the casino's estimated 800 casino employees.

But Doug Havel, a regular at the Kwik N Ez and the owner of Bud's Meats, which sits between the casino and downtown, says Murphy and LaRoche are dreaming. Havel, a Riverside native, doesn't buy the idea that the casino will bring dollars to downtown, located four miles west of the casino complex.

He's angling, though, for a contract with the casino owners to provide locally slaughtered meat in the resort's gift shop. He also has plans to transform Bud's Meats to a retail-only meat store.

Havel, wearing a heavy overcoat and blood-splattered boots, said he's worried that the casino may change Riverside's homey nature. "It won't have a small-town feeling anymore. We'll lose some of the family atmosphere," he said.

Anyone who thinks the coming casino will transform downtown Riverside may want to talk to Osceola Police Chief Marty Duffus, whose town became home to a casino six years ago. Duffus said that when a casino opens, it doesn't mean revitalization of businesses downtown, but, rather, it can create competition that will draw people away from downtown. And then there's the spectre of new businesses opening next to the casino, bypassing the town entirely.

"There's very little doubt in my mind that visitors, developers, or residents will start to build businesses," Duffus says. "Someone's going to see the opportunity to make a dollar between the casino and Riverside."

It's that kind of competing development that worries some Riverside business owners. With the opening of the casino comes the possibility of a strip mall and fast-food restaurants closer to the resort.

Whether they are starry-eyed optimists or just eager for something to happen, LaRoche and others, though, see any new development in Riverside as a good thing.

"Our goal is to make Riverside a destination town," LaRoche says. "We'll take anything we can get." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Last May, Amish farmer Herbert Mast and father Lloyd parked their horse and buggy and climbed into neighbor Barb Immermann's blue Saturn for the 120-mile journey to Johnston, Iowa, to testify before the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission. There they joined 18 other Kalona residents who opposed the licensing of a new casino in nearby Riverside.

When Herbert Mast, 38, stood to speak in front of the overflowing crowd, he remembers being dazed by popping flashbulbs and whirring TV cameras. Perspiration beaded on his forehead.

Wearing black cotton trousers, suspenders, and a dark blue coat, he stroked his short brown beard as he glanced around the room at men in coats and ties and women in high heels and business suits.

"It was just like politics," he recalls. "Some looked on the rough-character side. Not the kind of people we're used to being around."

The people Mast is used to being around are the more than 1,250 members of Kalona's close-knit Amish community, the largest Amish population west of the Mississippi River. Known for their reclusive lifestyle and their choice to forego cars, telephones, and electricity, the Amish live close to the land and one another.

Locals say the Masts' testimony at the commission's licensing hearing represents an unprecedented gesture in the 150-year history of Kalona's Amish and a measure of the community's strong opposition to the casino project.

Staunch pacifists, the Amish refrain from voting or engaging in political activities because their religion does not support governments that wage war. But the prospect of a casino located just seven miles from Kalona sent shock waves through the community.

Because the Amish were troubled by the prospect of a casino located nearby, Kalona's seven Amish bishops met to discuss whether they should make an exception to the group's voting ban and encourage members to vote against the casino in an upcoming Washington County referendum.

In the end, they chose to maintain tradition and refrain from voting.

"We decided to commit the issue to prayer," says local bishop Clayton Borntrager.

Despite their prayers, the casino referendum passed in August 2004 by a slim 352-vote margin.

The following May, the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission called a hearing to consider applications from 10 Iowa communities seeking gambling licenses, including a request from casino owner Dan Kehl to license the casino in Riverside.

The delegation from Kalona traveled to the Johnston hearing to protest the granting of the casino's license for a number of reasons - from alleged ethics violations and financial irregularities by the casino backers to the lack of broad public support in Washington County.

What led Herbert Mast, a robust Amish father of five, to abandon his farm chores and make his landmark trip to Johnston?

It wasn't to take issue with the results of Washington County's casino referendum. "Because we did not vote, we felt it was not our place to object to the results of the referendum," he says.

He felt compelled to protest what he called misrepresentations made by the casino proponents, he said, which included statements that the Amish would favor the casino because it would provide a larger market for Amish goods - pies, produce, eggs, handicrafts, furniture, and quilts.

"I managed to choke out the words," Mast says, months later, reaching to light a kerosene lantern in the hallway of his farmhouse as the sun fell below the horizon. "It was the longest day of my life."

At the meeting, Jim Hussey, a non-Amish Kalona resident, presented the commission with a petition signed by more than 150 Amish from Washington County. The petition said that the Amish wanted to correct the record and "would not welcome the casino's presence" near their community.

Despite the Kalona delegation's protest in Johnston, the Iowa Racing and Gaming Commission approved the casino's gambling license. Since then, construction of Riverside's casino and hotel has proceeded quickly.

Approximately one-third of Kalona's Amish and their more liberal sister sect, the Mennonites, live in Washington County. The other two-thirds live just over the line in Johnson County, which begins a mile north of Kalona's shopping district. In spite of their proximity to the casino, Johnson County residents could not vote in the referendum.

The Amish and Mennonites came to this country in 1729, at the invitation of Quaker William Penn, after they suffered religious persecution in Europe. They now have settlements in more than 20 states.

For the Amish, the casino conflicts with a primary tenet of their faith. "The Scriptures teach us to labor with our hands and earn a living in an honest way," Clayton Borntrager says. "To us, gambling isn't really an honest way to make a living."

Kalona's Mennonites, who number more than 2,000, embrace similar values - but vote, drive cars, use telephones and electricity. While they helped trounce the casino referendum in Kalona by a 3-1 margin, that wasn't enough to defeat the initiative countywide.

When the casino opens in September, many Amish say they do not expect the attractions to affect their lives. "I don't think our youth will be tempted," says Ed Schlaybach, owner of the Stringtown Grocery. "If they are, we missed teaching them something."

But some worry that the casino's presence will increase crime. Mast says his brother Lavern recently had a car pull up to the gas pump on his property. The driver got out, filled his tank, and then spent another half hour filling canisters, while Lavern Mast's family huddled inside their home, terrified. After the casino opens, Mast wonders if he and his neighbors will still be able to leave their houses unlocked at night.

Mast says he also worries about the casino's effect on rural land values, which have skyrocketed in the Kalona area, rising 30 percent in the last five years. Today, agricultural real estate has become scarce, and farms in the region sell for as much as $7,500 an acre. As a result, Amish families from Kalona are moving to other parts of Iowa and nearby states where acreage is more affordable.

If the casino development boosts Kalona's land prices further, Mast frets that he won't be able to afford land to establish his sons as farmers. "How am I going to keep my boys on the farm?" he asks quietly, adjusting the lantern flame.

As the casino's opening date draws near, many Kalona residents wonder how it will affect the community. Some worry about chartered tour buses filled with gawkers, snapping photographs of the Amish (photography is banned by their tradition). Others worry about increased traffic in Kalona, which may endanger the Amish in horse-drawn carriages.

"No one knows what will happen," Jim Hussey says. "We're all hanging on for the ride here."

As for Mast, he performs his daily farm chores with a clear conscience, knowing he tried to stop the nearby casino. After testifying in Johnston, he says, "I can look back and feel I did my part. Otherwise, I would always feel, 'Why didn't I go and at least try?' " © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Drivers on Interstate 35 can't miss the gigantic sign - a huge cowboy with a red vest, white shirt, and black hat. The cowboy, named Terrible, beckons gamblers to Terrible's Lakeside Casino Resort, four miles east of Osceola (pop. 4,659). Residents of the Clarke County town voted to allow gambling nine years ago.

Much like Riverside, Osceola residents were bitterly divided when it came to the vote. Many believed the casino would be an economic bonanza for Osceola. Others thought the casino would bring crime and moral corruption. One measure of that tension is that the vote to approve a new casino in Osceola failed three times before it passed.

Six years after the Osceola casino opened, the town is still divided.

Osceola City Administrator Ralph Lesko credits Terrible's for "vast improvements" in the city and surrounding Clarke County. He hasn't seen any negative effect from the casino's presence in the community, he said.

"It provides a tremendous amount of entertainment," he said. "It may have affected the lives of individual families. It all depends on perception."

Lesko cited a new aquatic center, fairground, baseball and soccer fields, as well as road repairs as tangible results of the casino's presence.

As required by state law, all casinos in Iowa are obligated to allocate a small percentage of their gaming revenues to the communities in which they are located. In 2004, Terrible's - then Lakeside Casino Resort - gave the city of Osceola and Clarke County Development Corp.$1.8 million and gave Clarke County almost $750,000.

At least two other projects have been created from casino revenues. One, called Paint the Town Red, grants Clarke County homeowners up to $5,000 for improvements to the exterior of their homes; the other allots $5,000 for new non-rental homes in Clarke County that are assessed at $125,000 or more.

Little of the casino money goes to the downtown area. Relatively few casino patrons ever visit downtown Osceola, admitted Elizabeth Simpson, program manager for the Clarke County Development Corp., who adds that she and others are working on ways to pull tourists in from the casino.

Many residents were too optimistic about the casino and were looking at gambling "through rose-colored glasses," said Kim White, owner of White's Woodworking and Frame, who is also a member of the Osceola Chamber of Commerce.

"We all thought, 'This is going to bring so much,' and I think it's been the opposite," she said.

She was uncertain whether the casino has directly hurt the retail and service businesses in town, but the number of restaurants in town has decreased, she said. White attributed that to area residents who now patronize the casino, which has three restaurants.

Once the casino opened, she said, there was an increase in crime, including incidences of prostitution, near the casino. She senses a decrease in disposable income among Osceola residents because of the casino's lure, she said.

Another local business owner, Teresa Joss, said, "People thought it was going to change Osceola, but it's made it worse."

Joss, who opened Coffee Parlor Cigars on the town square at the same time the casino opened in Osceola six years ago, said owning a business is frustrating because the casino hasn't always worked with the town. She said the casino has tried to keep people at the gambling venue so they would spend their money there.

Last year, the Las Vegas-based Terrible Herbst chain bought the casino from Southern Iowa Gaming Company of St. Joseph, Mo., and with the change in ownership, White, Joss and other merchants said they are hopeful that Osceola's fortunes will change.

"If something seems too good to be true, it probably is," White said.

Asked what advice she'd give Riverside residents, White said, "They need to work with the casino owners from the very beginning, or their downtown will still be dead." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Washington County Sheriff Jerry Dunbar leans back and clicks a black pen. He knows he has a problem down the road - 24 miles to be exact.

What's on his mind these days is the Riverside Casino, scheduled to open in just four months. Iowa's newest and largest gambling resort is expected to dump as many as 1.6 million people a year in Dunbar's backyard.

And Riverside doesn't even have its own police department.

Riverside employs nine full-time sheriff's deputies, all borrowed from Washington County. The nine-officer force is three fewer than the city had in 1975.

With the September opening of the mega-casino just east of Highway 218, any sheriff would have to be apprehensive.

"I don't see how this is going to work," says Dunbar, who voted against the casino-gambling measure that passed in Washington County in 2004.

Dunbar, in office just over a year, sees a host of problems on the horizon. One is the strain on his department once local businesses in Riverside begin operating around the clock. "My sheriff's office patrol schedule is not designed or staffed to handle the 24/7 services Riverside is expected to both need and request," he says.

Riverside is not the first rural Iowa community to have a casino reshape its landscape. One-hundred and fifty-miles away, Osceola's ten-member department police force has had to contend with issues ranging from increased crime to traffic congestion due to Terrible's Lakeside Casino, which opened in the Clarke County city in 2000.

Because the Osceola riverboat is less than half the size of the projected Riverside casino, Osceola Police Chief Marty Duffus predicts that Dunbar will need additional officers. "The sheriff's going to need more people simply because of the size of the draw of the attraction," he says.

Duffus says his own department could use at least four more officers on the streets in Osceola.

Duffus compares the influx of gamblers in Osceola and Riverside to Iowa's annual 500-mile cycling event - RAGBRAI. "That's 40, 000 people you didn't have before in your town," he says.

But RAGBRAI is in town for only one or two days. The influx of so many people in a rural Iowa town, Duffus says "is like RAGBRAI coming to town. . . permanently."

Washington County Sheriff Dunbar says he'd like to hire two more deputies, but Riverside Mayor Bill Poch says the city doesn't have the money for new hires.

Staring out a window from his oak-paneled office, Dunbar pauses, stroking his salt-and-pepper mustache. "I don't like the idea of wait-and-see," he says. "By the time we see an unmanageable increase in crime, it's too late."

Perhaps as an indication of what may happen when the casino opens, two months ago, thieves broke into the Riverside Travel Mart and stole a Touch Play machine.

Another worry of Dunbar's is the casino's proximity to Highway 218. "Without a consistent presence of law-enforcement, businesses will be easier targets for criminals because of quick and easy escape routes," he says.

Dunbar's officers will have some help if crime takes place inside the casino. Under Iowa law, the Division of Criminal Investigation (DCI) is required to enforce state gaming laws and investigates violations, ranging from underage gambling to more serious crimes such as counterfeiting and money laundering. A small contingent of DCI officers will be assigned to the casino, in addition to private security personnel the casino says it will maintain at the site.

An issue DCI Special Agent Jaget Sandhu says will come up is the casino's location, just 15 miles from Iowa City and the largest number of college students in Iowa. "Anything's possible with such a large group, when alcohol is thrown into the mix," says Sandhu.

No one knows, of course, what impact crime will have on Riverside in the shadow of the new casino. Osceola's Duffus, though, has the advantage of experience.

Theft, vandalism, fake IDs, public intoxication, and alcohol-related domestic violence all spiked in the wake of Terrible's opening.

It's the last of these problems that Dunbar says caused him the most worry.

"There are many reasons people argue - money, time not spent with family, late-nights out, jealousy, and alcohol consumption. The casino offers all of this in addition to the rest of life's daily challenges," he says.

As it turns out, Dunbar's uneasiness is supported by The National Gambling Impact Study Commission, which was designed to determine the social impact on communities where gambling casinos are located. The commission reported three main categories where gambling most affects families - increased divorce, child abuse, and domestic violence. Based on a National Opinion Resource Center survey, gamblers experienced an almost 30-to-50-percent increase in divorces.

Other domestic issues associated with gambling include everything from suicide to bankruptcy, the study reported.

Osceola Police Chief Duffus has learned one thing when it comes to rural communities and casinos. "You have to be prepared. If you can imagine it, it could happen." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

To the people of Riverside, Captain Kirk is family.

Every year, they celebrate the birthday of Star Ship Captain James T. Kirk, and this year was no exception. More than two dozen Riverside residents showed up this year to mark the occasion in the back room at Murphy's Bar & Grill. Three little boys blew out candles on a cake decorated with a gray star ship.

When the fictional Kirk was created by Gene Roddenberry, he wrote that the famous captain would be born in Iowa on March 22, 2233.

But nowhere did Roddenberry write where Kirk was to be born.

That led to some creative thinking by Riverside City Councilman Steve Miller, who in 1985 suggested that Riverside adopt the future star ship captain as its own. The council concurred and officially declared Riverside Kirk's future birthplace. When Roddenberry was asked, he gave the city his blessing.

Kirk's connection to Riverside has strengthened with time. Upon entering the town, drivers today are greeted by a sign that proclaims Riverside - Where the Trek Begins. A hand-painted poster above the entrance to the Riverside Senior Dining Center reads "Join us and dine with the ancestors of our own Captain James Kirk." Starting in 1985, Riverside has hosted the annual Trekfest, a must-attend event for anyone who knows why Spock's ears are so pointy.

To bolster the city's legacy with Kirk, Riverside residents this year have requested $3,000 from the Riverside Casino to pay for the bands that will play at this year's Trekfest, scheduled for June 23-24.

At this year's birthday party, organizers played a recorded message from actor William Shatner, who played Kirk on the original "StarTrek" TV show and subsequent films. "I really miss Riverside and all the people I met there," Shatner told the crowd, his voice booming from a CD player Mayor Bill Poch had set up in the tavern and grill.

Shatner reminisced about his ten-day visit to Riverside almost two years ago, when Spike TV came to town to film "Invasion Iowa." The people of Riverside had been told that Shatner was in town to produce a science-fiction movie. Actually, the program was a reality TV show designed to be a joke on Riverside.

But Riverside locals took the ribbing in stride. Ever since the council had declared the city Kirk's birthplace," Miller and others in Riverside had been trying to get Shatner to come to town. When Invasion Iowa arrived in September 2004, for many it was a dream come true. Never mind that it was a hoax.

Shatner was greeted with a large canvas banner, and today the banner hangs behind Plexiglas in the backroom at Murphy's, opposite life-size cutouts of Dr. McCoy and Captain Picard.

Shatner has, in some ways, become a patron of Riverside. After filming "Invasion Iowa," he gave the town $100,000, as well as a marble bench that now sits in a city park across from a scale model resembling the Star Ship Enterprise.

The bench is dedicated in memory to Nita Rath, the wife of longtime Riverside resident Don Rath. During the filming, Shatner became friendly with Don Rath, who appeared on "Invasion Iowa," singing a love song at Nita Rath's gravesite.

"Shatner sure was nice," says Rath. "He fit in like he was one of us." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

These days, a futuristic starship is Riverside's most popular symbol, but it was trains that led to the city's founding in 1872.

When Jessie Boyd heard that the Muscatine Western Railroad would be coming through his property, he and three other men plotted the land between the Iowa and English Rivers destined to become Riverside.

By the time the railroad crossed the Iowa River two years later, 40 buildings were already in place.

The first was the general store, built with lumber hauled by a team of mules from Lone Tree.

Buildings often served dual purposes in those early days. The town's first Masonic Lodge was above the general store and on Sundays was used by the Christodelphians, a religious sect still extant in the U.S. and Europe. One building was used as a Baptist church and also a Catholic school. Of the two shoemakers in town, one had a saloon in his shop.

One of the most popular places in town was the Mraz Dance Hall, a lively place where people came from miles around, often staying all night, writes Marge Luckey in a Riverside's centennial history, published in 1972. Families came in buggies and farm wagons, and many girls who lived nearby walked barefoot, carrying their shoes and stockings to keep them clean for the dance.

Prohibition came in 1882, and the dance hall closed. That same year, the growing town was incorporated and named Riverside.

According to the 1880 census, Riverside had a population of 826. The population declined to an all time low of 608 in 1980, as the shift from farms to cities took its toll.

"The change was so gradual you hardly noticed it," says Gerald Mansheim, author of two books on Iowa history and architecture. Mansheim, a retired railroad worker, notes that the coming of the automobile hurt businesses in small towns throughout Iowa.

Once people in Riverside started owning cars, in 1907, they no longer had to shop at the general store. They could drive to larger towns and make purchases at the growing number of discount stores.

The opening of Highway 218 as a divided highway in the mid-1980s helped Riverside grow again, says Dave Gebhart, a retired Kirkwood Community College history professor. In the two decades since the 1980 census, the population increased more than 50 percent, to 928 today. With easy access to Iowa City and other nearby towns, Riverside has become a bedroom community.

"I've seen some downtown areas come back because of casinos, like Davenport and Burlington, and to a lesser extent, Dubuque," Gebhart said, noting that the businesses that do well in casino towns tend to be restaurants, bars, and coffeehouses, not retail stores.

But Gebhart says the soon-to-be-opened casino may not benefit the rural town of Riverside. Visitors are likely to go to the casino and not stop at other local businesses.

One positive sign in Riverside has been the establishment of the annual Trekfest, held the last week of June, which draws hundreds every year. A replica of a starship sits in a downtown park - just a few blocks north of the abandoned railroad tracks that once heralded Riverside's future. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Carol Montz isn't bothered by the new casino opening in Riverside.

"Quite frankly, we have other issues to worry about, besides a casino," said Montz, the superintendent of Highland Community Schools, dismissing the new Riverside Casino and Resort as a non-issue.

"I just don't think it will impact us."

Whether Montz, 55, wants to admit it or not, the decision to allow a casino to open in Riverside has fractured the small town, 16 miles south of Iowa City. Some contend the casino will threaten families and could mean an increase in alcohol consumption, as well as gambling among Riverside residents. Proponents argue that whatever the social costs of the casino are, increased revenue from the casino will benefit the district's schools.

The school district has taken a neutral stance on the casino. Montz said she doesn't anticipate problems affecting Riverside's schools, despite a recent University of Northern Iowa study that documents an increase in domestic abuse in Iowa communities where casinos operate.

"We aren't going to take steps, based on the possibility of something that might happen," said Montz.

One of the reasons for Montz's lack of concern stems from conversations she's had with her counterparts in another Iowa community where a casino has recently opened.

Montz and school board President Mike Roberts said they were reassured by Doug Stearns, the Clarke Community school board president in Osceola, where Terrible's Lakeside Casino Resort opened in 1999.

Stearns said that the casino has brought nothing but great things to Osceola, including funding for schools.

"We're anticipating similar financial boosts," Riverside's Roberts said. A farmer in Ainsworth, he estimated that the available money from Riverside's casino will approach $3 million.

Such optimistic predictions are premature. There is no guarantee how much money will be channeled from the casino to the city of Riverside, when the money will be available, and whether any of it will go to local schools.

According to state law, Iowa casinos must donate a percentage of their revenue to local non-profit organizations, which then allocate grants for educational and community purposes. That money can go to hospitals, libraries, city repairs, and local groups, as well as schools.

"Nothing is earmarked for the school district," emphasized Ned Cox, Clarke Community School district superintendent, which includes the Osceola schools.

In fact, schools in Osceola received nothing from the casino for the first five years of its operation. Only last year did Osceola schools receive a grant through the local funding agency set up to dole out money from the casino. That grant amounted to $65,000 and was used to build a concession stand, high school-track restrooms, a storage facility for the high school band, and buy science textbooks for grades 7-12.

Stearns downplayed any suggestion that Osceola schools should have gotten more money sooner from the casino.

"People are always going to complain about something," he said.

Now, six years after the Osceola casino opened, Stearns is still a staunch supporter of the bounty he said it has brought to his community.

"People are going to say they lost a lot of money, but it's their choice to go out and gamble," he said. "Personally, I don't see the problem. They got a real nice restaurant out there. They got a buffet."

In addition to his role as Clarke Community school board president, Stearns also runs a taxi service in town. His business, he said, has boomed since the casino opened, largely from driving intoxicated gamblers home.

In Riverside, the non-profit group that will distribute money derived from casino revenues is now in the process of developing guidelines for potential applicants. These guidelines will decide what organizations in town will be eligible for funding.

If Highland Community Schools were to receive any money, both Montz and Roberts said they'd want computers and gym bleachers.

Neither said there are ethical issues if a school district receives grant money stemming from gambling.

"It's not immoral to take that money," Montz said, maintaining that as long as the grants were channeled through a bona fide community-based funding organization, such revenue would be acceptable.

Beneath her frameless glasses, Montz's eyes darted about her modest office. She settled her gaze on the playground, where two girls pumped their legs on the swings, and several boys zigzagged among their classmates.

Montz said that she has talked with teachers and school board members about the possibility of Riverside parents developing gambling and alcohol problems stemming from the casino and how those issues might affect schoolchildren in the district.

"This could affect families more than the schools," she said. "I know there are adults in this town with addiction problems, and I worry about what might happen to their children when the casino comes."

Montz shuffles papers, her eyes back on her desk. "But as far as the schools go, we're staying out of it," she said. "I really don't think there is much of an issue here."

Highland Community School District has four schools: Highland High, Highland Middle, Ainsworth Elementary, and Riverside Elementary.

• Highland High: Grades 9-12, approximately 185-200 students
• Highland Middle: Grades 6-8, approximately 145-150 students
• Ainsworth Elementary: Grades Pre-K-5, approximately 110 students
• Riverside Elementary: Grades Pre-K-5, approximately 220 students

The Highland School District is located in Washington County and serves the towns of Ainsworth and Riverside. There are 660 students in the district. © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

Truckloads of dirt, orange road-closed signs, and cut-down trees surround hundreds of acres, as construction crews busily work to finish the Riverside Casino for its September grand opening.

All this commotion is closing in on car mechanic Douglas Swailes, 46, who owns a modest two-story beige home that casino officials want to buy to make room for a championship golf course.

"I just feel violated and taken advantage of, all the time," he says. "I didn't give them permission to be on my property. I said stay the hell off."

From Swailes' backyard, there's an open view of the rising casino and the resort's five-story hotel. Swailes says there's been increased traffic speeding past his home on Walnut Avenue. Without permission, he says, the local electric company has planted flags and sprayed orange paint, marking off sections of his land.

But it was when workers crossed the casino's property line and dug up sections of his land that Swailes says he'd had enough.

The sound of bulldozers and tractors digging on and around Swailes' property is a result of his reluctance to sell his land to the casino's owners. Last May, when casino general manager Joe Massa showed interest in buying Swailes' 3 1/2 acres as part of a golf course to be built at the resort, Swailes thought he had hit the jackpot.

"They were after me. They wanted me," he says. "They were in a buying position … I was in the driver's seat."

After meeting with the casino's lawyer, Swailes consulted a local real-estate agent and agreed to sell for $600,000. He signed a contract and prepared to move.

But a month later, Swailes said Massa canceled the contract and offered Swailes a lower price.

"He's doing what he [does] best, trying to get something for nothing," Swailes says about Massa. "I think he was hoping that I would be a fool."

The 2005 assessed value of Swailes' land was $189,000, according to the Washington County Assessor's Office.

Massa said Swailes' land, at $600,000, was overpriced.

"We never got to where we could make a deal," he says. "The price … was higher than what we were willing to pay."

After declining to buy Swailes' land, Massa said, the casino bought 75 acres north of the casino to accumulate additional land needed to complete the golf course.

"I'm not asking to hit the lottery here. I'm asking for fair compensation," Swailes says.

One of Swailes' neighbors, Bradley Berger, owns 1 1/3 acres. Berger says a casino lawyer contacted him in May with an offer to buy his land, but the $200,000 bid was not enough, he says. The assessed value for Berger's land totaled $110,000 in 2005, according to the Washington County Land Assessor's Office.

Berger, who, like Swailes, is a car mechanic, lives in a two-story duplex on Walnut Avenue. He says the casino's offer wouldn't pay off his existing mortgage and allow him to purchase a new home for his family and mother, who lives above him.

Both Berger and Swailes say they will hold out until casino representatives come knocking again.

"What they plan on envisioning is a nice clear-cut view," says Berger. "You're not going to want this single house or duplex sitting there."

David Mattingly, an agent for Coldwell Banker Real Estate Professionals of Iowa City, says the casino's offer for both properties is fair. He says many local property owners see the casino's desire to buy land as "a gold rush."

Still, Mattingly advised Swailes to hold out if his price range wasn't met. Once the casino generates money, Swailes' and Berger's property values will increase, Mattingly says.

"They have a chance of getting more money [by] just waiting it out," he says. "If developers have a vision for the land, they'll buy it … they'll pay top dollars."

Meanwhile, Swailes paces his property and glances at what's left of his once-bucolic backyard, which, he says, was partly dug up by construction crews to connect sewer lines without his permission.

"When I moved out here, I thought I got away from it all," Swailes says, shaking his head, wrinkles forming on his forehead. "I'm going to just keep doing what I'm doing. I was here first." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

At the heart of downtown Riverside, the city's elders gather in a redbrick building for lunch. They share news of deaths, births, and recent illnesses. When the topic of the casino comes up, they seem intrigued.

"I know I'll go to the buffet," says Joanne.

"It's a way for people to get together, to get out of the house," adds Ann.

"Besides," she says, "there's nothing down here."

Although almost everyone in the Senior Dining Center is on a fixed income, most say they'll visit the casino.

"It's going to be a beautiful place," Jeannette says. Once a year, she and her husband go by bus with other retired farm couples to gamble at casinos in Dubuque and Davenport.

With the Riverside casino's opening around the corner, they won't need to travel that far.

For now, many Riverside seniors play euchre or Bingo at five cents a game. Winners receive prizes of pop and food.

At noon, the elders line up for lunch, dished out onto blue plastic plates. The meal today is steamed vegetables, brown rice, and meatballs with apricots on the side.

Four men gather around a table. One man, wearing bib overalls, says while gambling proponents contend that the casino will help keep property taxes down, he's doubtful.

"Nothing is going to help with taxes," he says. "They will go up anyway, so this casino won't help anything."

"There are problems with anything you do," says Don, his eyes peering over his glasses. "But it can't hurt anything I can see."

"I, myself, have nothing against it," says Jane. "It's supposed to help the community. I think my biggest concern is young people. As long as they know how to handle it, it will be O.K. It's certainly going to help employment if they employ as many as they said they would."

Jane plans to go to the casino, though only occasionally.

"It's something to do," Jane says as she looks at those around her - "as long as they don't spend their social security checks." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

A billboard on Interstate 380 announces in stylish black type, "Riverside Casino and Golf Resort: Opening Fall 2006."

Casino owner Dan Kehl says the jumbo announcement is part of a regional strategy to deliver as many as 1.6 million visitors to Iowa's newest gambling destination.

But the billboard only hints at Kehl's larger efforts to attract gamblers from Iowa and out of state to his $100-million resort. If Kehl has figured correctly, the Riverside casino will be his dream come true; if it flops, Kehl's lavish resort could turn into a financial nightmare.

For Kehl's plan to succeed, he says he has to create a one-of-kind premier attraction. "That's the concept we are going for," says Kehl, surveying the building of the resort from what is scheduled to be the golf course's sixth hole. "Whether or not we can pull it off, come ask me in a year-and-a-half from now."

To determine what amenities an Iowa resort would have to have to attract such a large number of guests, Kehl and manager Joe Massa asked focus groups in Cedar Rapids, Des Moines, and Aurora, Ill.

The focus groups told the gambling executives that Midwesterners don't want another stand-alone casino. Participants said they wanted something that would include extras, such as an 18-hole championship golf course, a golf school, a luxury hotel, an indoor/outdoor pool, a spa, and concert space. They also indicated that activities for families would be welcomed.

With so much riding on the Riverside Casino, Kehl and Massa have left little to chance. Massa says a consulting firm will soon begin telephone and mail surveys to gauge people's responses to the casino's advertising campaigns, messages, pricing, and even casino logos.

In the meantime, Massa has hired a sales manager to lure groups and conventions to the casino, and he plans to hire a sales staff in Chicago and Des Moines. A package could include a hotel stay with a trip to Kinnick Stadium for tailgating and box seats at an Iowa football game. Kehl says he wants to organize junkets to the casino, where out-of-state gamblers would be flown into the Eastern Iowa Airport.

Kehl says the resort will only flourish if he can attract "heads in beds," the hospitality industry's jargon for overnight guests, not just occasional gamblers who come to drop a few dollars and check out the buffet.

Of the anticipated 1.6 million visits per year, Cheryl Good, the Riverside Casino director says its goal is to draw 20 percent from out-of-state.

This may be optimistic, according to William Eadington, director of the Institute for the Study of Gambling and Commercial Gaming at the University of Nevada-Reno. Outside of Las Vegas, casinos are primarily local attractions, he says. The Riverside resort may capture travelers on nearby highways, such as Interstate 80, if it builds a reputation with its restaurants, hotel, and golf course. "There will be some people who will use it as a resort, if it is 150 or 200 miles away," Eadington says. "But nobody is going to go farther than that to travel to a facility that they can find duplicates of."

While Kehl says he wants the resort to be a destination for non-Iowans, his marketing strategy clearly targets Iowans and residents of western Illinois. Of the $83 million in revenue he expects to pull in each year, $66 million will come from customers living within a 50-mile radius, and $10 million is expected to come from 100 miles away. The remainder will come from out-of-staters or "drive-bys."

In places such as Iowa, Eadington says casinos are social centers where people go for a night out. Casinos offer reasonably priced entertainment, restaurants, and maybe even upscale shopping.

There is also, of course, gambling, which is the real moneymaker. "The casino allows everything else to happen," Kehl says.

And if the casino is the engine that pulls everything else, it's the slots that make the engine go.

"Slot machines are the major profit center for any American casino, these days," Eadington says, except in Las Vegas, where table games make more money. He says that a typical casino in the United States generates 80 percent of its revenues from slots. The Riverside casino will have 1,175 slot machines, fewer then the Ameristar Casino in Council Bluff, which has 1,600.

On average, a typical new slot machine costs about $10,000 and generates anywhere from $100 to $800 a day, depending on whether the machine is played in, for instance, Tama or Las Vegas. In Iowa, Eadington estimates daily revenue from each slot to be approximately $200, so the entire cost of a single slot machine is recouped in less than two months. That's why casinos like them.

Eadington says customers also like them because slots have become increasingly more interactive with video-game features. They often use identifiable logos and themes, such as "Wheel of Fortune," "Jeopardy," and Monopoly. In addition, when people receive positive reinforcement, such as small amounts of money, they tend to stay and play, he says.

A typical casino player in Iowa is female, married, 52 years old, lives within 100 miles of the casino, has an annual household income of $50,000 or above, has a high-school education, and is likely a smoker, according to a 2005 University of Northern Iowa study.

Because of these demographics, Massa says that the casino would lose more business than it would gain if he created non-smoking sections in the casino. In fact, Eadington says casinos typically lose 20 percent in revenue when smoking is banned.

The casino industry, including Riverside, also wants to attract Gen-X'ers - people younger than 40. Kehl says he would love to book the Black Eyed Peas for the casino's opening. This would appeal to a younger crowd, potentially even college students. The UI, after all, is just 15 miles away.

Whether a casino attracts retirees or Gen-X'ers, any marketing expert would agree that the goal is to build loyalty. Twenty percent of casino customers make up 80 percent of casino revenue, Eadington says.

Kehl and most other casino owners rely, in part, on a 2-by-3 inch plastic player's card. The card and the concept of database marketing have transformed the way casinos cultivate loyal customers and attract new ones.

As customers spend money in the casino gift shop or on the gambling floor, they earn points that can be redeemed for free meals, discounted hotel rooms, or gambling chips. The more they play, the more incentives customers get to play.

To get the player's club cards, customers provide the casino database with personal information, including their birth dates. To earn redeemable points, customers insert the card into their slot machine of choice, hand it to the dealer at the table games, or use it when paying for a round of golf. The casino's computer system tracks their preferred games, how long they play, how much they bet, win, and lose.

The card also helps get customers in the door. Although the casino will advertise on local radio, print, and television, direct mail is a key marketing component. The casino already has a database of names from the Fort Madison's Catfish Bend Riverboat Casino, in which Kehl also holds an interest. The database will grow this summer, when sales staff plan to hit county fairs and malls to enroll people in the player's club, in anticipation of the casino's September opening.

As he continues to survey his project from a hill on the golf course, Kehl says the resort is an ambitious project, but Iowa's casino market requires something new. "Iowa gaming was started to create tourism in the river communities, back in 1991," says Kehl, whose father, Robert, was the first to be granted a gambling license in Iowa.

"It worked - until other states joined in, but it has lost its luster, a little bit. Now we have to up the ante." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan

It's the stuff of bedtime stories, tall tales, and Mark Twain novels.

Midwest boy from a large family grows up on the Mississippi, one of five children of riverboat parents who make their living on the river. Pretty soon, gambling comes to town, and the family is forced to adapt, eventually opening a casino of their own.

Mom and dad run the riverboat casinos. The kids practically live on the boat, working 9-5, doing their part to make the family business boom.

And gradually, over time, Huck Finn becomes Donald Trump.

Therein lies the paradox that is Dan Kehl. Part aw-shucks Iowa boy, part casino mogul. Part consummate family man, part $100-million businessman.

A man with a ruddy complexion, curly short red hair, the quick-to-smile Kehl seems equally at home shaking hands with Riverside farmers or talking profit-margins with Wall Street brokers. As he balances these two extremes, Kehl now finds himself at the helm of Iowa's most ambitious resort project.

There are days when, even to him, it all seems a bit like a dream.

"I feel like the luckiest guy in the world," he says, casting a proud look over construction that by September is scheduled to be transformed into the 58,000-square-foot casino. "I say that every day."

In a way, his life is very much like a dream, charmed and strange at the same time. One of five children of Iowa's first riverboat casino operator, Robert Kehl, a young Dan grew up on a riverboat on the Mississippi.

Now 72, Robert Kehl, has long been tied to riverboats in Dubuque and the Quad Cities. In the days before legalized Iowa gambling, Kehl père had a long history of buying and selling businesses; Dan estimates his father has owned somewhere around 27 businesses.

Prior to 1972, Robert Kehl ran a catering business on the dining-excursion boats between Dubuque and the Quad Cities. When the company that owned the boats stopped running tours, Robert and wife Ruth borrowed all the money they could and bought their own boat.

The dinner boat was successful enough that over the course of the next 14 years, Robert Kehl purchased three more, including the Spirit of Dubuque and the Quad City Queen.

It was these boats that served as the childhood homes of Dan and his siblings. They'd spend their summers working there, keeping the business in the family.

"It was awesome," says Dan Kehl. "We worked a lot, but we had fun. When I'd get grounded, I'd have to go into work as long as my dad did," he recalls. "That meant 5:30 [in the morning] 'til whenever he went home. But he'd pay me for it, so it worked out for me."

In the late 1980s when Iowa legislators began to consider riverboat gambling, the Kehls were adamantly opposed to the change, fearing it would mean the end of their excursion-dining business. But when the legislation ultimately passed, they decided that they might as well join in the dawning of legalized Iowa riverboat gambling.

And so, in 1990, Robert Kehl was awarded the state's first riverboat gaming license. More casinos and more riverboats would follow, and soon Robert Kehl would became a pivotal force in not just Iowa gambling but gambling throughout the Midwest. "If it weren't for him, none of us would be sitting here," says Dan Kehl.

But to think of Dan Kehl as merely inheriting his family's business would be a mistake. "I think his ability is to have whatever it is that entrepreneurs have - that vision where nobody else necessarily sees an opportunity, a lot like his father," says Ken Bonnet, Kehl's business partner since 1993.

The Riverside casino is Kehl's pet project, a venture that will either sink or define him. In order to raise money for the Riverside casino, Kehl traveled to Wall Street to convince bankers to invest $100 million to fund his dream. It was his first trip to New York, at the age of 39.

While the casino will leverage Kehl like never before, it's a gamble he seems willing to take.

However, Kehl, along with his wife and two sons, moved to North Carolina in 2002, when Iowa issued a moratorium on licenses for new casinos. North Carolina offered Kehl the opportunity to continue to expand his business in a new market.

Now, one of the challenges for Kehl has been balancing his family life in North Carolina with his businesses in Iowa.

He blends the two by commuting from North Carolina to Iowa and back again weekly, typically spending Monday through Thursday in Iowa and then jetting back for the weekend. For spring break this year, he took his family to Costa Rica.

When asked if he wants his sons to get into the family business, he pauses, drops his head, and slips into a quiet smile, "Aw, heck yeah, who wouldn't want them to?

"I've almost got him [my oldest] convinced to come to [The University of] Iowa and work for me," Kehl says, admittedly excited by the prospect of a third Kehl generation in the business.

In the meantime, he plans to honor his father when the Riverside Casino is scheduled to open on Sept. 10 - Robert Kehl's 73rd birthday.

"It's my present to him." © Copyright 2006 Daily Iowan