S. Korea’s First Open Casino Is a Jackpot for Depressed Backwater

Six-hour traffic jams, nine-hour lines, five-deep crowds at crap tables and a mad dash for slot machines. Gambling fever has hit South Korea in a big way with the arrival of the nation’s first casino for locals.

“This is phenomenal, unbelievable,” said Lee In Sung, manager of the new Kangwon Land Casino Hotel, which opened Oct. 29 here in Kangwon province. “I’m just delighted. We’re breaking every record in the book.”

This backwater of shuttered coal mines and subsistence cabbage farms about 100 miles east of Seoul suddenly looms large on South Korean maps following the opening of the glitzy casino. Four times as many gamblers are showing up as were projected. Even modest jackpot winners are making headlines.

Dealers and croupiers are working 12- to 18-hour days to handle the rush. And newspaper editorials are fretting over the threat to national discipline even as the casino limits its hours on weekdays to make sure people show up for their jobs.

“Koreans are just crazy about gambling,” said Lee Chul, a 34-year-old businessman. “I think more so than other people.”

On opening day, about 5,000 people showed up for 700 available seats. Fights broke out in the parking lot, slot machines broke down, and patrons found themselves battered in the crush.

Emboldened by the manic reception, Kangwon Land has accelerated its already ambitious plans to become Asia’s “Las Vegas in the Trees.” It’s also trying to take full advantage of its lucrative monopoly before another depressed town gets the nation’s second license.

“The government will keep another casino from starting for at least five years,” predicted Jun B Kim, Kangwon Land’s marketing chief. “They call them sin cities. You don’t want a lot of sin cities.”

With the long-standing taboo on casino gambling by locals broken, however, several other local governments are clamoring for a slice of the action, arguing that the constitution guarantees equal opportunity.

The casino’s gold-plated fixtures, flashing lights and faux teak furniture stand in sharp contrast to the tin-roofed shanties, battered cars and poorly lighted shops that surround the bettors’ mecca.

This region was chosen after unemployed coal miners staged violent protests here in 1995. The government rejected proposals to turn the silent mine shafts into garbage and nuclear waste dumps and instead settled on gambling as a way to spur economic development. As part of the deal, locals are guaranteed 40% of casino jobs and a big cut of the profits.

Residents are being told to enjoy the proceeds but to avoid gambling themselves. The not-so-subtle message: You don’t have the money to waste that Seoul or Pusan city slickers do and will likely squander your meager wages.

But some think this attempt at social engineering is naive. Locals “may be persuaded to stay away from the casino for awhile,” said Kim In Soo, a resident of nearby Chongson village. “But when they have some money, how can you stop them?”

In one case early this month that was the talk of the nation, a woman won slot machine jackpots of $45,000 and $6,300 in a single day. Not that the house is too worried about the payout. “I guarantee you, she’ll be back and lose all her money,” said Kangwon Land’s Kim. “Gamblers are addicts.”

In fact, the company is so sure of this that it has done zero marketing in South Korea. Why bother, when people are breaking down the doors to find you?

South Korea has a handful of other casinos in Seoul and on Cheju Island, but these are restricted to holders of foreign passports. Treated like second-class gamblers in their own country, many Koreans have voted with their airline tickets. Last year, they were among the leading Asian visitors to Las Vegas, along with the Taiwanese and Japanese.

Kangwon Land is hoping to convince gamblers from all three countries that they don’t need to travel all the way to Nevada. Furthermore, officials say, snow trumps sand; by combining gambling with skiing and a theme park, they hope to put together a winning ticket.

The $1-billion Kangwon Land project is 51% owned by the central government and 49% by public shareholders. “I bought several shares,” said businessman Lee, who recently ambled out of the casino at 6 a.m. several hundred dollars poorer after gambling all night. “By losing at the tables, I guess I’m helping my investment.”

The casino has 199 rooms, 30 gaming tables and 480 slot machines. By 2002, the company intends to double the gaming capacity, open the theme park and ski slope and add a condominium and golf course. By 2006, plans call for another doubling in the number of gaming tables and slot machines.

Despite the big plans, however, “Las Vegas in the Trees” has some sizable disadvantages. It’s difficult to reach, and the mountainous terrain argues against building an airport.

“It took me 10 hours to drive here from Seoul. It should take four,” said Yu Dong Hun, a 37-year-old business owner. “You can’t find this place. There aren’t even any signs.”

South Korea’s gambling history is long, despite the legal limits here on gaming. Kim Son Poong, professor of folklore studies at Chungang University, said written references date back at least 900 years, with many of the most sophisticated gaming forms brought in by Chinese traders and Buddhist monks.

One reference has a Chinese chess player winning his Korean adversary’s wife. When he tried to take her back to China by boat, however, he was turned back by a “divine” storm.

During the 35-year Japanese occupation that began in 1910, a card game known as hwato caught on like wildfire. Many people lost their houses in a national binge of speculation.

That said, traditional Korean values--which applaud filial respect and hard work and condemn gambling--remain deeply rooted. In fact, one of Kangwon Land’s advantages may be its out-of-the-way location, which reduces the chance your neighbors or boss will catch you entering the casino.

“Koreans are very concerned about saving face and will try to be proper,” said Chungang University’s Kim. “It’s so remote there, you don’t have to worry about being seen.”

Im Man So, tailor and owner of Seoul’s Pomyang Laundry, plays hwato about 40 minutes a day at work. On a good day, he’ll win $10; on a bad day he’ll lose $20. He’s not a very good bluffer, he admits, so the bad days outnumber the good days. But he’s not tempted by the new casino.

“I’m not interested,” he said. “That’s a whole different world. We play for fun. They play for greed.”

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Chi Jung Nam in The Times’ Seoul Bureau contributed to this report.