Sen. Neal's Relentless Tax Crusade

19 August 2000

LAS VEGAS, Nevada—Aug. 19, 2000 -- After his debate last week with casino operative Mike Sloan over his proposed increase in the gross gaming tax, this much is clear: Joe Neal is the business community's best friend.

Oh, yes, the Las Vegas Chamber has endorsed Neal's opponent, Uri Clinton, Neal's articulate, well-informed primary foe who is being supported by the Powers That Anoint. But the business folks, who don't like to have it pointed out that they ride for free (or virtually so) on the Economy Gaming Built, should love what Neal is trying to do. And that is, whether he qualifies his 5 percent increase in the gaming tax or not, Neal will continue to use inflammatory rhetoric and outright demagoguery to guarantee gaming looks like a rapacious, bloodsucking industry that doesn't pay its fair share.

And as Sloan looked on in disbelief, and frequently interrupted Neal in frustration, the state senator repeated shopworn but sensational claims that often drew whoops from the audience. Yes, the crowd at the Culinary training center in downtown Las Vegas was packed with union types designed to show support for gaming, and the populist members of the Paradise Democratic Club loved Neal's Establishment-bashing.

From the first words he spoke -- talking of the state's "Faustian bargain" with gaming made 70 years ago when it was legalized -- Neal gave little regard to the facts and went for the cheap thrill. Gaming is a "parasitic industry," he said. It hasn't had the gross gaming tax raised in 13 years, he lamented. The casino companies pay the "lowest taxes in the world" here in Nevada, he cried. They need to pay their fair share, he argued.

By contrast, Sloan, enhanced by charts prepared by R&R Advertising, and with gaming lobbyists Bill Bible and Billy Vassiliadis sitting in the front row, went through a detailed and factual presentation about how much gaming pays, how many jobs it provides and how Neal hasn't thought through the impact of his proposal.

When pressed for details such as why he chose 5 percent -- from 6 1/4 to 11 1/4 -- or whether he had looked into profitability before arriving at his plan, Neal could not provide any satisfactory answers.

He continually referred back to the Legislature -- with a little prodding from the Nevada Resort Association -- entombing his 2 percent increase. And since a lot of time had passed and gaming had still not contributed, 5 percent sure sounded good. Or words to that effect. It looked as if Sloan was going to come unglued.

But, alas, this debate has nothing to do with facts. And Neal has the patter, if not the logic, down. And he knows what the polling data says, too, as he repeated at least a half-dozen times: By nearly two-thirds, people would support raising the gaming tax.

The industry is fortunate that Neal is a marginalized figure, even by his own colleagues. But the industry is not taking any chances. Not only has it embarked on a signature-suppression campaign in the rural counties -- the petition must qualify in 13 out of 17 counties -- but Clinton also is their guy.

Tom Letizia is Clinton's campaign manager. But the campaign essentially is being orchestrated out of R&R's offices and the goal is simple: Beat Neal if we can, but keep him distracted away from the initiative we must.

I actually have little doubt that when Gov. Kenny Guinn finally lands on his tax plan -- probably somewhere around the day after the election 2002 -- he will make gaming pony up. But until then, Neal's ill-conceived and potentially destructive and most likely vindictive tax increase is chewing up the scenery and the industry is worried.

And as the business community stokes Clinton's campaign, some of its leaders must realize that if Neal is erased from the landscape, that will leave no one talking about taxing gaming instead of them.