Stakes may be too high on tribal pact measures

The most confusing measures on Tuesday’s state ballot are the four Indian gambling propositions. But, cutting through all the fabrication and jargon, there’s one simple way to look at this.

The central question is: Should the state grab, by whatever legal means, any money it can find to help balance its books? Or has the expansion of Vegas-style Indian gambling in California gone far enough?

Certainly, with these particular tribes, the issue no longer is about lifting Indians from abject poverty. Their one-armed bandits already have made them very rich.

Propositions 94, 95, 96 and 97 are complex, first, because this is really one issue spread across four measures. They’re separate but similar Indian gambling compacts that require individual ballot props.

Second, these are referenda, not initiatives. A lot of people mistakenly regard referenda and initiatives as the same because they’re tools of direct democracy. But an initiative is a proposal to enact a law. A referendum seeks to repeal a law before it takes effect; the electorate is asked to decide on the law just as the Legislature and governor did.

So although it may seem counterintuitive, the sponsors of a referendum want you to vote “no” on the measure. The referendum’s opponents want a “yes” vote.

But back to simplicity.

Sacramento is confronted by a projected $14.5-billion budget hole that most of the Capitol crowd expect to grow even deeper. And face it: This is not just a temporary phenomenon. The state struggles regularly with its archaic, roller-coaster tax structure and initiative-created autopilot spending.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and four Southern California tribes struck deals to expand the Indians’ gambling operations in return for a share of the winnings. The tribes currently operate 8,000 slot machines and could add 17,000. They’d pay the state 15% to 25% of the profits on the new slots. The Legislature ratified the pacts.

The governor and the tribes estimate there’d be a $9-billion payout to the state over the next 22 years. Opponents dispute the amount, contending it more likely would be half that. The tribes would be obligated to pay roughly $3 billion minimum, or $131 million a year.

“People can argue over the amount of money,” says Patrick Dorinson, a spokesman for one tribe, the Morongo Band of Mission Indians. “But the state should be taking dollars from wherever it can.”

Another complex thing about these propositions is the strange-sounding names of the tribes, which don’t exactly roll off the tongues of non-Indians. The other three are the Pechanga Band of Luiseno Indians, the Sycuan Band of the Kumeyaay Nation and the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians. They’re in Riverside and San Diego counties and, combined, have about 2,700 members.

“There used to be a lot more,” notes Dorinson, referring to the 19th century genocide and land thievery that decimated the tribes -- a shameful past that prompted atoning voters in 1998 and 2000 to authorize Indians to erect casinos on their rural reservations.

Today, there are 58 California Indian casinos operating roughly 60,000 slots. Some tribes are cleaning up. Many of the 108 tribes still are destitute, however, because they’re too isolated to draw gamblers.

The four tribes involved in this political battle are so rich that they can afford to spend, at last count, $104 million fighting the referenda and urging a “yes” vote.

The referenda sponsors have ponied up roughly $35 million pushing a “no” vote. Among the chief backers is horse track owner Terrence Fancher. He’s trying to force the compacts back to the negotiation table in hopes of obtaining a piece of the Indians’ take for his struggling Hollywood Park and Bay Meadows racetracks.

“The tribes are not responsible for the demise of the racing industry,” says Indians’ compact negotiator George Forman. “All the money the state’s getting, if it wants to steer some to the racing industry, that’s the state’s call.”

Two other opponents of the compacts are tribes that fear gambling competition: The United Auburn Indian Community and the Pala Band of Mission Indians. A third opponent is the hotel workers’ union, Unite-HERE. It contends the compacts would hamper union organizing.

To squeeze the compacts out of the Capitol, the four tribes apparently made the politicians some offers they couldn’t refuse.

The vulnerable governor cut the deals during his 2006 reelection campaign, it’s widely believed, to “neutralize” the tribes and keep them from spending $50 million against him, as they’d quietly threatened.

When the Assembly balked at approving the compacts last year, one tribe -- Morongo -- committed $20 million to an intimidating TV, radio and mail attack against Democrats. The tribes also hinted they’d spend millions to bury the term limits initiative, Proposition 93, that Assembly Speaker Fabian Nunez (D-Los Angeles) coveted.

The Democrats caved, jilting their longtime ally, organized labor.

But let’s make the issue simple again. This also is about the spread of gambling.

Professor William N. Thompson of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas has extensively studied the social costs of gambling and has no doubt that the price in California would rise with the escalating number of slots.

“The tribes will be trying to recruit new gamblers and get people to gamble more,” he says. “With gambling, supply creates demand.”

And demand, too often, means compulsion -- leading to ruined friendships, divorce, lost jobs, bankruptcy, stealing and even suicide. “No other addictive population has as high a prevalence of [suicide] attempts,” he adds.

Worst, he says, are the video poker machines. “Players get mesmerized. They have out-of-body experiences.”

If our state is that desperate for money, maybe we should really follow Nevada’s lead. Allow slots in airports, restaurants and pharmacies. Legalize prostitution.

Where do we draw the line? I’d say from a point 43 miles southwest of Las Vegas, then northwest to the middle of Lake Tahoe. Leave all that stuff in Nevada.

george.skelton@latimes.com