Back in the Twentieth Century, when your correspondent enrolled at the University of Missouri, male freshmen and sophomores were required to enroll in what we called “rot-see,” more properly, ROTC—the Reserve Officers Training Corps.  Two years of military education designed to encourage students to join the Army, Navy, or Air Force after two more years of military education.

I decided to focus my energies on becoming a journalist.

One of our instructors in Crowder Hall, a Sergeant whose name I might be able to recall in the middle of the night, once referred to Fort Leonard Wood as “a pimple on the ass of humanity.”

I think of him almost every time I walk into a convenience store and see a line or two or more of machines that are or are not slot machines (according to their owners) but are instead Video Lottery Terminals.

Owners of the machines say they’re legal because there aren’t slot machines that are state-regulated. The casinos, which want a monopoly on all things gambling (except the state lottery that they can’t lay their hands on, so far) say they are slot machines and state law allows only casinos to have legal slot machines.

The question of their legality tied up the Missouri Senate so badly that for three years in a row that almost no legislation was passed except for a state budget. Most of the instigators of that deplorable era have moved on or moved out, allowing the legislature to actually accomplish several things for good or for ill in the most recent regular session.

The legacy of those deadlocks is Amendment 2, the sports wagering proposal barely grafted onto our state constitution last November that will have almost no benefit to the citizens but will greatly fatten the pocked of casinos and our sports teams.  Backers of legalized convenience store slot machines refused to let sports wagering legislation, or almost any other legislation, go anywhere unless those bills also legalized the slot machines.

The backers of the VLTs, therefore, are largely to blame for Missouri now having a constitutional amendment rather than a law.  Laws are easier to correct or to make more fair for the people of the state than amendment is.

The casino industry also is largely to blame because it refused any kind of a compromise. The legislature refused to be the adult in the rooms (the House and the Senate) and put it collective foot down and resolve the issue in a way that protected the state’s interests.

The stage is now set to decide in the court system if those “gray market” machines are or are not legal.   A few days ago, a St. Louis federal jury ruled that the biggest supplier of those slot machines has been engaging in unfair competition and has misled players and stores about how the games operated.

The jury had no trouble deciding—in only two hours after a five-day trial. The owner of traditional bar games had sued Torch Electronics and won a half-million dollars, four times what was sought.

The jury’s finding could clear the way for Federal District Judge John Ross to rule whether these machines are legal. He has indicated a reluctance to wade into the “politically fraught” waters involving this issue but indicated he would rule after the Torch case was decided.

Gambling generates a lot of Money in Missouri and it’s important that those in the biz make sure those who make decisions on laws and regulations are friendly.

Tthose who make that money have not been shy about buying high-level political friendships with it, thanks in large parts to the financially-persuasive involvement of former House Speaker Steven Tilley, now an influential lobbyist who has endeared himself to key figures such as Governor Kehoe, whose political action committee account was fattened by a quarter-million dollars last year, and former Attorney General Andrew Bailey, who kept Torch money and who backed away from defending the Highway Patrol—which had been sued by Torch to keep it from seizing machines.

Bailey’s predecessor, now-U.S. Senator Eric Schmitt, returned $5,800 in campaign donations from Torch’s owners after questions were raised about possible conflicts of interest. State Treasurer Vivek Malek, after a Tilley-arranged meeting with Torch’s owner, put stickers on the VLTs advertising the state’s unclaimed property program, which had nothing to do with those machines but drew criticism from those who thought they indicated the state had licensed them.

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that the plaintiff’s attorney in the case told the jury that 101 of Torch’s 6,000 machines throughout Missouri took in $32 million in seven years and generated $11million in profits to Torch, a payout rate of about 65% while regulated casino slots pay out more than 90%. No law requires operators of those machines to share their wealth with state programs and services.

There has been a general reluctance by city and county prosecutors to declare the machines beyond the law. One county and one city have taken that step but a ruling by Ross of illegality could give others the backbone to challenge the machines’ presence.

Regardless of how Judge Ross rules, the conflict about whether they are or whether they aren’t slot machines has left Missouri with an unfortunate result.  Sports wagering is now in the Missouri Constitution rather than in the Missouri Revised Statutes.  Putting something in the Constitution doesn’t make it immune from change but the opportunity for constitutional change is much harder than it is to change a law.

Regardless of how Judge Ross rules, Missourians are losers because the people we elected to represent us in the Capitol didn’t do their jobs in voting video lottery machines legal or illegal and failed to pass a sports gambling law that serves the people.

You might ask them why they lacked the backbone to put the state in control of the gambling industry rather than the other way around. Check their campaign contribution reports on file at the Missouri Ethics Commission and you might find some answers.