Bob

More than forty years ago, in the months before we set up The Missourinet, when we were still in local radio in Jefferson City, a new guy showed up to cover city council meetings. He was working for a then-new FM station that hadn’t shown much in terms of news coverage but he’d been hired as the news director and he arrived determined to carve a place in this market for a new news voice.

I was impressed with this kid right away. And I was impressed with him right up to the day he died, Sunday, a third day after gall bladder removal surgery.

I liked Bob Watson’s ambition and his work ethic right away. He wanted to be part of the Missourinet when we started it and I kept putting him off through several cycles of new reporters on our staff because I didn’t want to tell him he just didn’t have the kind of voice we wanted to have on the air. I respected his commitment to reporting, his desire to be a good reporter, the persistence he brought to his work. On top of that, he was a good guy. But finally, I forced myself to break the news to him. I was sorry I had to disappoint him.

Bob left the radio station and worked for the local television station where his conscientious behind-the-scenes role shaped the content of the newscasts. Fortunately, Betty Weldon, the owner of the News-Tribune, saw in Bob Watson the kind of reporter she wanted on her newspaper staff. She hired him more than thirty years ago; Bob said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. That is where he carved his place. In years to come, when people look at the microfilms of the newspaper for the last thirty years they will find the byline of Bob Watson everywhere in the News-Tribune. I used to joke that there were times when he wrote the entire front page. While he might not have really done that, he came darned close a lot of times. His passion for reporting is reflected in the volume and the quality of solid reporting on those pages.

Mrs. Weldon died several years ago and the family sold the newspaper to an Arkansas-based company that, unlike many businesses that are buying the media today, maintains a high standard of local news coverage. A few months ago it named Bob its employee of the year.

He was the statehouse reporter for the newspaper and was a tenacious questioner of governors and lawmakers—-there were times when some of his colleagues had to force themselves to interrupt him to get OUR questions in. He, as all good reporters, hated vagueness and contradictions from the newsmakers. He never backed down in questioning their statements or their intentions. I knew when I read a Bob Watson story that it was accurate, balanced, and thoroughly-developed.

We sat at the Senate press table for many years, both of us at times going into what I call “screen saver mode,” Bob because he dealt with a sleep disorder and me because my work day had passed the eight-hour mark by 1 p.m. most of the time. Both of us always had our recorders running so we didn’t miss anything.

Bob’s coat pockets always bulged with pens of multiple colors. He had a color-coded system of note-taking of some kind that I never asked him to explain. His notes were always neat, his handwriting always clear—while most of us at the table filled notebooks with scrawls that only we could read.

One of his last stories was published on the anniversary of the first moon landing. It was about the reunion of the Apollo 11 astronauts with their space capsule that happened to be at the state capitol on July 20, 1970. Bob knew that I had broadcast the event and he tracked me down at a family gathering in Colorado for an interview. He wasn’t feeling well and had taken a rare day off from work the day before and still wasn’t back up to snuff but he had to get the story, had to find the person he wanted to interview, wanted to tell the tale.

That’s a good reporter for you. As long as you can drag yourself to the keyboard, there’s reporting to be done, a story to be told.

One thing Bob did that I never have done—-a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/reporterbob

You’ll find a lot of his own words and informal photos that capture the spirit we’ll remember, his joy of being a journalist, his love of his family (official and unofficial families), a bit of his self-deprecating humor, and a face that says kindness, steadfastness, and  “character” in both senses of the word.

We have lost invaluable institutional memory. We have lost a good friend, a man who committed his life to good journalism, a newsroom mentor. His church has lost a willing worker, a good soul. His children have lost a proud parent, his grandchildren a proud grandfather. All of us have richer lives because God gave us Bob.

When I dropped in at his room at St. Mary’s hospital Saturday, the day after his surgery and shortly after the nurses had gotten him up for his a post-surgery shuffle to the end of the hall and back, I asked him, “Watson, what’s a good Presbyterian boy like you doing in a place like this?” He took it in all good humor. We talked for a few minutes but just before I left I said, “You know, people are going to start asking, ‘How can you have the gall to ask that question?’ after this.”

“You don’t have to have a gall bladder to have gall,” he answered with a weak smile.

That was Bob Watson.

(The photo is from the News Tribune “contact” page)

 

Damon and Jimmy

Jimmy Breslin, the New York City author and columnist died a couple of years ago at the age of 88. He wrote more than twenty books including a biography of a fellow New York author and columnist, Damon Runyon. It’s an entertaining read. Breslin wrote, “Damon Runyon invented the Broadway of Guys and Dolls and the Roaring Twenties, neither of which existed, but whose names and phrases became part of theater history and the American language.” Twenty-six of his short stories became movies.

Something Breslin wrote about the way Runyon’s world was created before he got to New York when real estate lawyer Henry Morgenthau instituted the development that became the Broadway-42nd Street area. Something Breslin wrote about the process caught our eye.

Whenever successful politicians and businessmen are together, it is a moment of hope being reawakened. The politician, who is impoverished by comparison to the man he stands alongside, always is at once frightened and enticed by the thought of entering the business world and earning a fortune. The merchant with his money in his pocket is in awe of a person who can stand before grubby crowds and earn their cheers. Each in the other’s presence secretly wishes he had the other’s role, and off by themselves they are insanely jealous of each other. Yet merchants and politicians seem extraordinarily friendly with one another, and form a closed society to which strangers never are admitted readily, unless the stranger has wondrous amounts of money, at which point he rapidly ceases to be a stranger. The money is often never brought into use, but the stranger must own much of it. How can you yearn to be the other guy if he doesn’t have any money? The merchant by using courtesy to the point of groveling, so flatters the politician that the impossible occurs and the politician become momentarily secure, and immediately feels a need to make the merchant richer. While it is understood that the politician takes money out of this, nobody realizes the miserable amounts of money they often accept. No amount is too small for a politician to grab, nor for a rich man to offer. As nearly all great fortunes in America are made on land stolen while the public’s back is turned—and by people who want money but don’t want to work for it, by men who use the title of builder and yet never have driven a mail into a board—nowhere was the relationship between politician and merchant closer than at the time the subways of New York were built.

If you are interested in Breslin’s take on New York subway construction, go find a copy of his book about Runyon. Otherwise, we hope you just enjoy—as we did—Breslin’s essay on business and politics, offered here without comment except that we thought it was a fun paragraph to read in a book we’re really enjoying.

Breslin and Runyon make quite a combination.

 

Sponsorships

State government never has enough money to fix the roads, educate our kids, take care of those of us in our declining years, pay our prison guards and state employees  enough to get off of food stamps, maintain hundreds of buildings it owns, keep our air and water safe, and a lot of other things.

I woke up on a Monday morning a few weeks ago with the solution.  I think it was the day after I’d watched the Indianapolis 500 in person and the NASCAR 600-mile race at Charlotte that evening on the telly.  It came to me that state government could make millions if it followed an economic model based on racing.

A few years ago the stock car race at Indianapolis was called something like the Your Name Here Crown Royal Brickyard 400 Powered by Big Machine Records.  Each year the name of some citizen—a private citizen who was a veteran or someone who had voluntarily done something of public benefit would be picked to fill in the “Your Name Here” part of the event name—a nice thing to do to recognize the importance of people like most of us who do good stuff just because we do good stuff.

And if you watch any of these events, you know that the first thing the winners do in the post-race interview is thank all the sponsors whose logos adorned their cars and are sewn onto their fire-resistant driving suits. “You know, Goodyear (Firestone) gave us an awesome tire today and our (Chevrolet, Honda, Toyota, Ford) had awesome power.  I’d like to thank Bass Pro, M&Ms, Budweiser, Coke, Monster Energy, Gainbridge, NAPA, and all my other sponsors who make this possible—and the fans, you’re the BEST!!!”

Suppose state government was run like that.

At the end of a legislative session, the Speaker and the President Pro Tem, in their joint news conference, began with “We have had an awesome, productive session here at the Anheuser-Busch Capitol powered by Ameren.”

“The Monsanto Department of Agriculture driven by the Missouri Farm Bureau will be better equipped than ever to regulate corporate farming through the Tyson CAFO Division.

“The Master Lock Department of Corrections employees are getting a significant pay increase; The Depends Division of Aging is expanding its services significantly; the Tracker Marine Water Patrol is able to hire more officers; and the Dollar General Department of Revenue is going to install new computers to get our H&R Block tax refunds out faster.

“The Cabela’s Department of Conservation sales tax renewal has been put on the ballot next year.  The Wikipedia Department of Higher Education driven by Nike has been given more authority to approve such programs as the Shook, Hardy & Bacon Law School at UMKC, the Wal-Mart Business School in Columbia, the Eagle Forum Liberal Studies program at UMSL, and technology developed at the Hewlett-Packard 3-D Missouri University of Science and Technology will now be capable of building new football facilities on our campuses for pennies..  And we found additional funding for the Cologuard Department of Health and its Purdue Pharma Division of Drug and Alcohol Abuse.

We also were able to put a proposal on the ballot next year to increase funding for the Quikcrete Department of Transportation.

“We couldn’t do all of the great things we’ve done in the 101st Session of the Citizens United General Assembly fueled by Laffer Economics without the support of all of our state’s other great sponsors.

“And we appreciate the participation of you citizens out there.  We couldn’t do this without all of you. You’re the BEST!!!”

And the confetti made from 1,994 un-passed bills would rain down and the legislative leaders would spray champagne (or, more likely, shaken-up Bud) all over each other in the Chamber of Commerce and Industry Legislative Victory Circle (previously known as the rotunda) and the legislative mascot dressed as the Official State Dessert would dance to a celebratory song performed by Sheryl Crowe, who next year will be chosen as a project by a third-grade class studying state government to be the subject of a bill designating her as the Official State Country Singer.

This would never work, of course.  We can’t see members of the legislature in uniforms that have state government sponsors’ patches all over them during the sessions or campaigning in outfits that have the logos of their donors.  And the Senate would just flat out refuse to tolerate anything that would eliminate Seersucker Wednesdays.

Even if government tried something like this, the Supreme Court would be tied up for years in lawsuits determining whether sponsorships should be calculated as Total State Revenue under the Hancock Amendment, thereby triggering tax refunds that would undermine the entire idea.  And Clean Missouri would get another ballot proposal approved by voters that would tie the Missouri Ethics Commission into knots trying to define whether sponsors constitute campaign donors.

Hate to say it folks.  In the real world, if we want better services or more services or better roads or prison guards who don’t have to hold two other jobs, it’s us taxpayers who will have to be the sponsors of state government.    And after all, shouldn’t we want to be

THE BEST?

Food for thought

We stopped in Terre Haute, Indiana on our annual trip to cover the Indianapolis 500 for the Missourinet and as we nibbled on our bad-for-us hamburger and fries, we found an article in the local newspaper, the Tribune-Star, by Morton J. Marcus that we know will upset the Missouri Farm Bureau and other farm-advocacy organizations, Governor Parson, our friends at the Brownfield network, and numerous other people who continue to advocate for something Marcus thinks is an anachronism: agriculture as an important part of Missouri’s (and Indiana’s) economy.

We offer this as food for thought in a changing world—which has an unchanging reliance on the subject on which Marcus’ appears to have some relevant points. You are welcome to add your grains of thought to his observations in our “comments” section.

The article appeared in the Tribune-Star on May 22. It was published in the Indianapolis Business Journal the next day.

Last week, the governor of Missouri was interviewed on NPR and stated that farming was the number one industry in his state. I’ve heard the same claim from Indiana politicians. In fact, one Hoosier solon claimed farming was “the backbone of Indiana’s economy.” I responded, “Every corpse has a backbone.”

Why do people in Missouri and Indiana believe such exaggeration? Perhaps, at one time (in the 19th century) it was true. Farming does take up a lot of the land we see when traveling from one place to another. Plus, the farm lobby is still disproportionately strong.

How important is farming? Folks from Purdue love to say, “If you eat, you’re are part of farming.” Oh, so true! Plus, if you eat, you’re part of trucking, dentistry, and waste disposal.

Let’s look at three different measures not provided by the biggest farm lobby of all, the U.S. Department of Agriculture:

First, value added, the part of Gross Domestic Product (GDP), our basic measure of economic activity, attributed to Agriculture nationally (including farming, forestry, fisheries and hunting) is 0.8%, or 19th of 19 private sector industries. Number one is (drum roll… ) real estate, rental and leasing at 13.3%, followed by manufacturing at 11.4% of GDP.

To be blunt, total value added from farming is less than 0.8% of the U.S. economy. What will the farm lobby say? “Well, you’ve got to remember farmers buy lots of stuff and lots of money passes through their hands that wouldn’t be spent if we didn’t have farming.”

No one is talking about not having farming! That’s the argument of a child, not an industry. We measure economic activity as the value of the goods sold less the value of goods purchased. That’s what we call value added. And the sum of value added by all economic activity in the marketplace is GDP.

For Missouri, agriculture (Ag) is 1.1% of the state’s GDP. For Indiana, Ag is 0.9% of the state’s GDP. In each of those two states, Ag is 19th of the 19 major private sector economic activities in GDP. Only in South Dakota does Ag exceed 5% of the state’s GDP.

Second, personal income, the sum of earnings, rent, dividends, interest, and transfer payments (Social Security, Medicare, unemployment compensation, etc.) are received by — guess who? — persons. Farm earnings are net of the expenses of farmers, but include government subsidies. How many carpenters, janitors, teachers, surgeons can say the same?

In the nation, farming accounts for 0.4% of total personal income. In Missouri, the figure is 0.46%, in Indiana 0.33%.

Third, jobs. Farming, fishing and forestry account for a lofty 0.34% of jobs in the U.S., 0.18% in Missouri, and 0.12% in the Hoosier Holyland.

These are data for 2018. Not 1820, which might have been the source for the governor of Missouri. They are from the U.S. Bureau of Economic Analysis and the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, not the fake news agents working in the speech-writing cubicle of every statehouse.

A couple of observations from your, uh, loyal observer:  I grew up in a farming community, on a five-acre farm. We rented our pasture to people with horses. I spent summers baling hay and cutting weeds out of Illinois bean fields in the days before pre-emergent herbicides.  Today, it seems, the phrase “small family farm” is a phrase for a time long gone.  HOWEVER, there is no doubt that the people who farm, whether they are a dwindling number of individuals or operations that have become corporations for various reasons, raise the food that feeds a growing population.  But whether agriculture is the “backbone” of our state’s economy in the 21st Century is an issue that Morton Marcus has rightfully raised.  Perhaps it is time to find a new defining phrase for the importance of agriculture.  But in doing so, we cannot forget that this industry that is a shrinking part of our total GDP is the source of our food.

A modern assessment of the economic value of agriculture in the greater scheme of the nation’s economy does not violate the old bumper sticker that says, “Don’t criticize agriculture with your mouth full.”  If anything, the comments from Marcus should make us appreciate, on a personal level, the importance to our well-being of agriculture in whatever business model its participants follow.

(Who is this Morton J. Marcus fellow?  He writes entertaining, informative, and sometimes provocative columns, a compilation of which you can find at https://howeypolitics.com/Content/Columns/Morton-Marcus/10/23.  He is director emeritus of the Business Research Center at Indiana University’s Kelley School of Business.  He taught economics there for more than thirty years and was an advisor on economic development and taxation to a half-dozen Indiana governors. One of his degrees in economics is from Washington University in St. Louis.  He has a bunch of other qualifications.  One write-up of his qualifications for his columns notes, however, “None of his advice has been taken.”)

 

Adjournment!


The sound of a gavel at 6 p.m. on the last day of a legislative session is the sound of freedom, of welcome relief for lawmakers, lobbyists, staff members, reporters, and others who for weeks have been under growing pressure to grasp success in the face of rapidly shrinking time. Within minutes after the gavel falls, the roads out of Jefferson City will be occupied by cars with license places beginning with the letters S and R, followed by their district numbers, speeding homeward and back to real life.

The members of the first session of the 100th General Assembly of the State of Missouri will repeat actions hundreds of their legislative ancestors knew well long ago. The capitol press corps will have a few hours to recap the day for it can go home, also exhausted but buoyed by the relief that adjournment brings them to.

The correspondent for the Liberty Tribune wrote at the end of a very long March 2, 1855, “As it is late at night and I am worn down with fatigue, and constant application, I beg leave to do as the Dutchman’s team did in the sands of the Mexican desert—just quit.”  His column was published in the March 16 edition.

Yet, before I take my final leave of you, Mr. Editor, I would like to picture to your mind’s eye the scene of the last day of the session.  The day was bright and balmy—a lovely spring day with its light and shade—its sun and its showers—gay groups of ladies in and about the Capitol—Old Nature was loosing the bands of winter, and the tide of the mighty stream that sweeps the base of the capitol was rapidly increasing in strength. The shrill whistle of the steamboat at the wharf called away one-third of the members, with hearts buoyant to see their long-absent wives, sweet-hearts and little ones. The stage coaches were all filled and crammed with departing members and their trunks and sacks of public documents to enlighten the dear people. Private vehicles were rattling along the streets loaded to the guards with absconding legislators. All was bustle, hurry, confusion, mixture and disorder. The confusion of tongues at Babel, or the cloven tongues on the day of Pentecost, could scarcely have been more wonderful or picturesque. The Speaker’s hammer, the very symbol of authority, was as little heeded as the woodpecker’s tattoo, on the hollow tree.  Several ineffectual efforts were made to introduce bills—to call up bills—to make reports—to pass resolutions &c.  A member would rise at his desk and at the top of his voice cry out Mr. Speaker! A dozen voices at the same time, still a little louder. Mr. Speaker! Rap, rap, rap goes the Speaker’s gavel. Another member shouts out Mr. Speaker, I move to have the St. Louis riot act read, as this appears to be “an unlawful assemblage of persons!” At length, after many attempts to do business, within a thin and disorderly house, a resolution was passed deferring all the business on the clerk’s table and in the hands of the committees, until the first Monday in November next. Resolutions were then passed by both houses, notifying his excellency, Gov. Sterling Price, that they had completed their business for the present sitting, and appointing a committee to wait upon him with a copy of the resolutions.—In a short time the committee returned stating that the Governor had no further communications to make with either house of the General Assembly. A motion was then put and carried to adjourn over to the first Monday of November next.  Then, sir, scatterment took place which I shall not further attempt to describe.

Yours respectively, Publius.

The legislature in those days met in the winter months after the crops were in and before the next planting season.  It was allowed to carry over unpassed bills from one year to the next within the two-year session.  A lot of things have changed in the 164 years since “Publius” filed his report. But one thing remains.

When the gavel falls at 6 p.m. today, scatterment will take place once again.

 

They never give up, do they?

The newest trick by the casino industry to escape any taxes on another slug of money removed from customers’ pockets has been heard by a House committee.  No action’s been taken and it’s likely too late in the session for this latest scheme to make it into the statute books. But there’s always next year.

If the bill somehow passes this year, that casinos will take another $100,000,000–plus out of Missouri in the next four years. And big boatloads annually after that.

It’s another broken promise by the industry.

Since the day casino gambling was legalized in Missouri, most of the tax on the industry’s adjusted gross receipts has been earmarked for education. For 25 years, that’s been okay with the casinos.

Not anymore.

A trend that could, in time, wipe out all of the gambling money going to education has been gaining momentum in the last four years.  The casinos are giving out coupons to customers allowing them to get free plays at machines and gaming tables. And they seem to be giving out more and more.   The legislative fiscal oversight office says the growth in taxes collected by the state in the last four years from these free play coupons has averaged 8.73%.  In Fiscal 2018, the state collected $37.8 million dollars from those taxes. Thirty-four million went to the “gaming proceeds for education” fund. The rest went to the home docking cities.  More about that later.

The casinos think there should be no tax charged on the money casinos take in from people using those free play coupons. None. They propose completely phasing out the 21% tax on money they make from these promotions in the next five years.

Some if this is kind of technical so I ran it past an accountant who gave me some help. When you read the technical stuff, that is the part from my advisor.

Here’s how it would work.

Suppose you wager $100 at the casino, twenty dollars from the coupon the casino has given you and eighty more out of your own pocket. You win $40 (half of it from the coupon and half of it from your own pocket).  You walk out of the casino sixty dollars in the hole.  The casino, by giving you a twenty-dollar coupon has made sixty dollars.

That’s how the current law works.  The state collects 21% of the sixty dollars you left behind, or $12.60.

The argument from the casino side seems to be that the $20 coupon comes from the casino’s previously-taxed adjusted gross receipts.  So it shouldn’t have to pay tax again when the $20 comes back.

The industry claims it recognizes only $80 in revenue, that it paid out $40, so its adjusted gross receipts are forty dollars, not sixty and therefore owes the state only $8.40, one-third less than the present law requires.

Whatever.

What the casinos want is to pay NO tax. The bill says, “Promotional play receipts shall not be taxed after June 30, 2023.”

Thus, the bill seems from here to say the casino that gets a business tax deduction with its promotional coupon would be excused from paying any gaming taxes on adjusted gross receipts generated by that coupon when it is gambled.

My accountant friend thinks the casinos are creating an un-level playing field (imagine that, casinos have tilted tables!) where the wagers are not taxed but the patron winnings from those wagers are still allowed to be deducted from the casino gross receipts, thus lowering the casino’s AGR taxes.

There’s an even greater hazard here.

The casinos want to pay no taxes on promotional play receipts. There is nothing in this bill that prohibits casinos from issuing promotional play coupons to every customer. And as the oversight division of fiscal research points out, the casinos’ use of promotional play has been increasing.

Fiscal research estimates the state will collect $244,650,481 under the existing 21% tax on promotional play between this fiscal year (FY2019) and FY2023.  If the present tax says in effect—as it has all this time—the state would collect an additional $62,457,772 in FY2024 and each year after that.

BUT if this bill passes this year and the tax rate is gradually reduced to zero, the state would collect only $138,624,390 during that same period, and would collect nothing in FY2024 and every year after that.  That’s a loss of $106,026,891 during that phase-in period plus the $62.4 million each year afterwards. .

But it’s not just the education fund that will get hurt with this demand from the casinos.  Ten percent of the adjusted gross receipts tax goes to the home dock cities that already are seeing their funding reduced because the dollar they get from casino admission fees isn’t worth anywhere near a dollar.  Fiscal research estimates they will lose $10,602,610 by the end of FY2023 and will lose $6,245,777 each year after that.

Many years ago the casino industry agreed that the tax on adjusted gross receipts would go for education with a little bit to the home dock cities.  At that time all of the promotional play was taxed. If this bill passes, hundreds of millions of dollars more will go to casino corporate headquarters instead of being used to underwrite a small percentage of Missouri’s school funding and meet additional costs the home dock communities have because they have welcomed a casino.

As usual, the casinos get richer and richer while the causes that are supposed to benefit from casino taxes get poorer and poorer.

Just another example of an industry that cares not one whit about the people of Missouri, its education system, or even for the communities that think they’re great corporate citizens.

They’re not.

But they never give up, do they?

The man who isn’t there (but he really is)

Some of the sports wagering bills going through the legislature’s digestive process this year bring to mind Hughes Mearns poem that begins:

Yesterday upon the stair I met a man who wasn’t there…

Some bills establish a process by which someone can bet on sporting events remotely.  But whether in doing so they are the person who isn’t there is open to question.  So today, let’s look at the casino industry’s efforts to avoid paying admission fees for the largest segment of new gamblers it hopes to attract by legalizing sports betting, people the industry thinks should not be considered there.

This issue is important for the Missouri Gaming Commission’s worthy causes—including veterans homes and cemeteries—and for the casino industry’s home dock cities, which also rely on income from the casino admission fees. And, of course, there’s the museums proposal from Jefferson City that also asks for admissions fee money.

Reading the bills instead of just listening to the casino industry explain them raises or should raise some red flags. We will raise a few today—and we won’t even get much into the industry’s effort to direct the conversation in the direction of how much it is willing to be taxed.

Casino attendance has been declining since its peak in FY 2010-2011, dropping in fiscal year 2018 to its lowest level in twenty years. Casinos hope that opening sports books in the casinos will draw people back, particularly new people, and those new people will discover other kinds of gaming while they’re there for sports wagering.

It’s unlikely to produce a BIG turnaround in attendance, certainly nothing that will return casinos to the halcyon days when they were reporting fifty-million admissions or more (a decade ending in fiscal year 2012). But as the bills are now written, it will add millions to the casinos profits, although a relatively small amount compared to the overall adjusted gross receipts, largely because they don’t think about seventy percent of the sports bettors should be counted as casino admissions.  We’ll confront that strategy in a minute.

The proposed legislation gives our thirteen casinos a monopoly on sports betting. The bills require casinos to have a specific area set aside and staffed within the casino to handle those bets. A person who enters the casino wanting to bet that the Cardinals will beat the Cubs by more than fifteen runs must go to that specifically defined area where that person will offer to make a wager.  The casino will accept that offer and, when the final score is St. Louis 19, Chicago 3, the bettor will be paid.  If the score is 19-4, the casino keeps the bettor’s money.  The acceptance, handling, processing and final resolution of the bet is handled within that prescribed area of the casino.

But the casinos also want to allow betting through use of computer, whether it’s a big desktop tower or a cell phone or maybe the increasingly sophisticated things people put on their wrists these days. And that is likely to be most of the sports bettors.  They call it “remote” betting although some definitions of “remote” are debatable.

A webpage that keeps track of gaming trends in Nevada and elsewhere, playnevada.com, reports that 70 percent of all sports wagering in New Jersey, the first state to legalize online sports betting after last year’s Supreme Court ruling, were placed online.  It also reported Nevada, which seemingly has video gambling machines in every supermarket, business, bathroom, airport terminal, and anywhere else that people go, reports mobile sports wagering is used from twenty-five percent to more than fifty percent of the betting in Nevada’s many sportsbooks.  It’s difficult in Nevada’s case to be more specific because—and this is something we might come back to in a later post for a different reason—Nevada does not separate mobile and on-site wagering. That’s why it’s harder in Nevada than it is in New Jersey to determine what percent of sports wagering is done outside casinos.

Missouri’s proposed legislation would separate on-site wagering from remote wagering, which could be detrimental to veterans services or to home-dock communities that rely on in-person wagering in the sports book area but also could provide a major increase in casino profits. Missouri’s casinos want it that way and expect the legislature to rubber-stamp the idea.

As we compose this, we don’t know the final form sports wagering legislation will have if it makes it to the governor this year.  So we’re going to construct a scenario based on common provisions in the bills and a few differing provisions in some bills.

Missouri’s proposals don’t let just anybody dial a casino, and bet on sports. A bettor first has to go to the casino (where that person presumably will have to enter, thus triggering a two-dollar admission fee for the state) and register, open a betting account, and get a password.  That person then can leave and bet from anywhere in Missouri.  At least one proposal allows betting from other states if the other state lets Missourians place bets there.  It’s called reciprocity. On the other hand is a proposal that allows betting a few feet from the gambling area—-which doesn’t sound very “remote.”

If those provisions are in the bill that gets passed, the way will be clear for Betting Bertie to place a bet in say, Boonville, even if he is in Bevier.  He does. And he loses. Since he was not in the casino personally there is no admission fee paid to the state.  The bucks Betting Bertie of Bevier bet at Boonville go straight to the boat’s bottom line. The casino gets richer. The veterans and the home dock community get no benefit at all from this increased business because Betting Bernie doesn’t set his boots inside the Boonville boat.  At least that’s the way things are proposed.

Now comes the part likely to get the casino industry lathered up.

We argue, and we would bet that a number of members of the legislature might agree, that requiring Betting Bertie to physically go to Boonville to register as a bettor constitutes the creation of a presence within the sports book area. The bills require casinos to keep detailed records in the casino of Bertie’s betting.

If Betting Bertie does not place a bet, it’s as if he’s not present that day. But if he does put down a bet that is accepted by the casino, processed by the casino, and paid off by the casino in the sports book area as required, he has activated that established presence and has electronically entered that casino.  And because the casino has accepted the bet, processed it, and paid it, it has acknowledged that he has had that presence in that casino.

Because the casino has decided to admit him to the sportsbook area with his bet, the two-dollar admission fee should apply as surely to him as it would apply to someone who walked in. A bet is a bet whether it is made by someone sitting in a comfortable chair staring at all the big screen teevees or whether it is made by someone sitting in an office chair in Bevier.  Both parties have entered the casino, one physically and the other electronically. Admission is admission—at least if the casino wants either bettor’s money. It cannot get Bertie’s money if it does not acknowledge the presence it as established for him by accepting his application and giving him his password.

Casinos will argue that physical and electronic admissions are different. But the end result is the same—the casino is most likely to win and the principle of winning is the same whether that person walks in or phones in. There is no bet if there is no acknowledged presence.

To put it more directly: The casino recognizes the arrival of the electronic bettor because it maintains a space for that person’s arrival thanks to the required registration and subsequent password issuance.  The password is the equivalent of the turnstile the on-site bettor has to go through to place a bet.

By making the password the electronic equivalent of the turnstile, the legislature can make sure that casinos don’t game the system further than they already do by claiming seventy percent of sports betting is different from the on-site betting, thus benefitting only the casino and not improving funding for veterans (and others) and home dock cities. The casino industry likes to cite Las Vegas practices in advocating a part of this bill and remember: Nevada does not separate mobile and on-site betting.

There is precedent within existing law that argues for our point.

If free passes or complimentary admission tickets are issued, the excursion boat licensee shall pay to the commission the same fee upon these passes or complimentary tickets as if they were sold at the regular and usual admission rate.

The provision kept casinos in the early days when real excursions were anticipated from declaring that everyone entering the gaming floor had been given a free pass or complimentary ticket.  As proposed statutes are written now, electronic entrance to the gaming floor and remote placement of bets is the equivalent of a free pass or complimentary ticket that, without existing law, would be treated as a non-admission. A strong argument can be made that it should not be considered as any kind of a free pass or complimentary ticket. And we suspect there are people who would support the concept—veterans groups and home-dock communities for example—who would be losers because the casinos are proposing an end-run around the admissions issue.  Why shouldn’t these bills consider remotely-placed bets to be “admissions” when the bets are received, processed, and (if necessary) paid in the casino or on behalf of the casino by a third party that conducts the wagering at the casino?

The answer is simple: the casinos don’t want them treated that way because if remote betting is not considered an “admission” there is no admission fee obligation to the state and to the host communities.  The casino thus increases its gross receipts without increasing any payments for veterans homes and cemeteries or home-dock communities and other causes. As we’ve noted before, they’re already getting tens of millions of dollars in windfalls because the admission fees are not inflation-adjusted each year and they fight aggressively if anyone suggests they should be.  By not considering remotely-placed but in-house processed bets as “admissions” their windfall will get windier.

Some additional proposed language that on first blush seems to be fairly benign appears on second blush to be much less than that.  Here’s how that works:

One of the bills appears to make that point when it says, “All sports wagers…shall be deemed initiated, received, and otherwise made on the property of an excursion gambling boat within this state.”  While that language would appear to support the points just made, please note the phrase “on the property.” Another bill seems to clarify that wording by saying sports bettors can wager on sports at “a hotel, restaurant, or other amenity that is operated by the certificate holder and subject to the supervision of the (gaming) commission.” A restaurant twenty feet from the turnstile to the gaming floor is an okay place “on the property” from which to place a bet. We suspect there are some folks who don’t think that quite qualifies as “remote.”

The definition of “on the property” is troublesome.  On one hand, the casino must establish a specific area where sports wagering is done and processed by the casino. On the other hand are suggestions that someone can be anywhere, even right outside the turnstile leading to the casino, or in a room of a hotel owned by the casino. These provisions seem to sanction avoidance of physically entering the specified area or of even entering the broader casino betting floor while on casino property, thus avoiding an “admission” and thus avoiding the two-dollar admission fee..

That is why it is important that the use of the password—from wherever—should constitute entrance to (or admission to) the specific area set aside for sports wagering and thus trigger the admission fee.

We hope the General Assembly’s final version of a sports wagering bill does not allow the casinos to ignore existing standards that require admission fees—that help veterans, home-dock communities and others—for seventy-percent of those the industry hopes to lure inside its specified sports betting areas physically as well as electronically.

—because the man who isn’t there

really will be there.

Casino abuse

Missouri’s casino industry is feeling abused.

And those of us who want to do something great in Jefferson City are the apparent chief abusers.

Takes one to know one.

We’ve now had committee hearings in both the House and the Senate on the Steamboat Legacy Fund bill that suggests Missouri’s casino industry be the main funding source for the creation of a National Steamboat Museum in Jefferson City, the construction of a Missouri State Museum that has been needed for ninety years, and the conversion of the present state museum space into a Capitol Museum/Visitor Center that focuses on the history of the capitol and the function of state government.  Our goal is to do all of this without state funds and without any general tax increase.

In each hearing, the casino industry has complained that it’s being picked on because we (a small group of Jefferson City residents who have been working on these goals for more than a year) think the industry has capitalized on—–no, the proper phrase is “taken advantage of”—Missouri’s steamboat heritage for more than a quarter-century.

The casino industry thinks we’re picking on it by telling the truth about it.  We think the casino industry has earned the right to provide the financial base to accomplish these goals. 

We’ll start showing you why today.

The attempt to portray yourself as the victim when you are caught with your hand in the cookie jar is as old as cookies and jars.

The casinos aren’t victims. But there are victims—Missouri’s veterans and the home communities of the casinos in particular.  We’re going to show you how it happens by using numbers from three sources: Missouri Gaming Commission annual reports for the last 25 years, the United States Bureau of Labor Statistics, and the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis.  And one other source: the casino industry itself.

Let’s begin this explanation with the parable of the 1994 pickup truck.  That was the year the first two casinos opened in Missouri. It was near the end of fiscal 1993-1994.  During that year, legislation went into effect establishing the two-dollar admission fee for casinos.

It’s important to understand that casino patrons do not pay that fee.  The casinos do, based on the number of people who gamble.

We won’t go into detail about how that number was established except to note that it goes back to the time when the industry convinced Missourians to allow casino gambling here by selling the image of steamboats cruising our great rivers on two-hour cruises while people could gamble (but lose no more than $500 per cruise). Each time someone went on a cruise, they would pay two dollars. One of those dollars was for the Missouri Gaming Commission and it’s “worthy causes” (more about those in a minute).  The other dollar went to the city and county that had a casino to offset the extra costs of public services because of the presence of a casino.  Leftover funds were used for capital improvements in those towns.  When the image of steamboats on our great rivers turned rather quickly into so-called boats in so-called moats the casinos decided not to charge patrons to enter the gambling floor. Instead the casinos counted noses and wrote checks to the state, probably making up that expense in charges for food and beverage, hotel rooms and the like, which is how the industry says it would make up for the dollar we are seeking for the museums project.

There is no doubt the host cities have made good use of that money.  But in the process they have become victims of their casino.

If the city street department in one of the first two casino towns bought a Ford F-150 four-wheel drive extended cab long-bed pickup truck in 1994, it might have paid the MSRP of $18,607.  By 2018 the truck badly needed to be replaced. But the price of a new Ford F-150 four-wheel drive, extended cab, long-bed truck, was $40,010.

The price of pickup trucks has doubled, and more.  But the city is still getting a dollar.  And it’s not a 2018 dollar.  It’s still 1993 dollar. And it’s not worth a dollar any more

The legislature in 1993 didn’t think to include an inflation adjustment clause when it set that two-dollar fee and the casino industry has successfully insisted the legislature not correct that shortcoming.

The inflation calculators at the BLS and the Minneapolis Fed tell us that the equivalent of $2 in 1993 was $3.41 in 2018.  The host city in 2018 got a dollar per admission at its casino.  Had there been an inflation clause built into that 1993 law they would have gotten a dollar-seventy.  Plus another half cent.

And the situation is worse for the city because those webpage inflation calculators show the dollar they DID get in FY18 had the purchasing power of only 58 ½ cents.

Does the casino industry give a hoot?  Suggesting this avaricious industry should care about making sure its thirteen host communities receive a dollar that is worth a dollar will bring forth claims that such suggestions make the industry a victim somehow.

The other half of the two-dollar admission fee goes to the Missouri Gaming Commission which takes its annual operating costs out and then distributes the rest to a list of “worthy causes.”  Those causes have varied through the years but the biggest beneficiary in 2018 was the Missouri Veterans Commission Capital Improvement Trust Fund, which funds veterans’ homes and cemeteries.  Last year it got about $22 million.   In 1993 dollars.  While the casinos were hauling in 2018 dollars from people who thought they could go to a casino and win, the veterans homes and cemeteries were getting dollars worth 58 ½ cents in purchasing power..

In fiscal year 2018, the difference between a 1993 two-dollar admission fee and its 2018 equivalent value ($3.41) was more than $56 million dollars.

Where did that money go?  Not to veterans’ programs.  Not to the home dock cities.  That $56 million dollars in windfall profits left Missouri and went to casino corporate headquarters in Nevada and in Pennsylvania.

And each year, because there’s no inflation adjustment in that two dollar admission fee, the windfall gets bigger and bigger.  In the twenty-five years that Missouri has had casinos, the industry has had windfall profits of more than $830,000,000.  That’s as of last June 30.

That’s $830-million that has not gone to programs for veterans, early childhood education, college tuition assistance programs, programs for problem gamblers—and to the host cities.

And when representatives of Jefferson City suggest that about two-thirds of the windfall going forward remain in Missouri to keep a treasure trove of American history from being purchased by a museum in Pennsylvania and moved there, and to satisfy a 90-year need for a state museum that can REALLY tell the story of Missouri and its people and its resources, the casinos whine that we are abusing them.

The casinos will attack any proposal to make two-dollar admission fees worth two dollars.  And anybody who suggests it, or who suggests (as we have) that using part of the huge annual windfall profit casinos realize for something benefitting Missourians is making the casinos victims somehow, and we should be ashamed to suggest it. .

Reviewing every annual report of the Missouri Gaming Commission makes this clear: The casinos get richer ever year by paying the state in 1993 money.  The state gets poorer because the programs and services that admission fee goes for cost 2018 dollars to operate.

We know that casinos are not built because their patrons have an even chance of winning.  The tables are always tilted in the casinos’ favor.  The tables tilt even more with each passing year that they pay the state two dollars in admission fees.

An industry spokesman has accused those of us supporting this measure of suggesting the casinos make too much money.  As is often the case with statements from the industry, it’s less than truthful and is intended to deflect attention away from the issues. It’s not the amount of money the casinos make, it’s how much they KEEP, how they keep it, and how they are adamantly opposed to any idea that the two-dollar admission fee should be changed so that veterans and home dock communities get dollars that are worth dollars.

Now, having beaten up on these “victims,” let’s acknowledge some important things.

The casinos have broken no laws. They are paying what the law requires them to pay.  Whether they are keeping faith with Missourians who voted to have majestic steamboats cruising our rivers or keeping faith with those who thought two dollars was going to be worth two dollars is another issue.  But they have not broken any laws.

They have said in the committee hearings that they have met every obligation the state has put on them.  And they have. And they sure don’t want the state to update any laws that make one of their obligations be that dollars be worth dollars.

They say they provide thousands of Missourians with jobs.  And they do.  Not nearly as many as they used to—which they don’t talk about publicly—but they do provide thousands of jobs that pay millions and millions of dollars in wages and benefits.

They pay a lot of property taxes and in some places they pay for leases of city or county land for their boats in moats. Not much to sympathize about there. Those are costs of doing business.

Here’s another indication that the casinos don’t much care about anything but how many dollars they can take out of Missouri:

Last year, Missouri’s casinos had almost one-and-three quarters BILLION dollars in adjusted gross receipts (income minus payouts for the minority of customers who won anything).  And by the time they deducted the expenses the gaming commission forces them to report, the industry still had about $820-million left, including the $56-million in windfall profits from the admission fees.

Here’s another example of how our casinos don’t really care for much more than taking as many dollars out of Missouri pockets as they can:

The gaming commission requires the casinos to report their charitable giving each year.   Last year the thirteen casinos donated about $940,000 to charities.  If asked, they’d probably point to that number with a lot of emphasis and pride.  They like to do that kind of thing.

But it’s not what they say. It’s what they DON’T say that is important in understanding their avarice.

The charitable contributions last year were just .00054% of their adjusted gross receipts.  Remember than .01 percent represents one penny per dollar.

One casino with more than $70-million in adjusted gross receipts in FY2018 reported charitable giving of $915.

Your observer seems to be the chief casino abuser, I guess, because I came back from a meeting at the Steamboat Arabia museum in Kansas City a year ago with the idea that Jefferson City would be a great place for the museum’s new home when the museum’s lease runs out on its city-owned building in Kansas City in 2026. And our working group thinks an industry that has taken advantage of our steamboat heritage to make billions and billions of dollars should help preserve the heritage of the steamboats.

If the plan that our working group has developed in the last year constitutes casino abuse, all of us willingly plead guilty.

So the casinos accuse of abusing them, of making them some kind of victims.  Read the numbers again. And think about who is—and wants to remain—an abuser.

The question then becomes: Who really is abusing the system: a citizens group that wants to use casino money to create something good—great—for our state or the group that wants to truck as much money as it can out of the state for its own enrichment?

The problem can be corrected.  All it takes is 82 courageous members of the Missouri House and eighteen courageous members of the Missouri Senate who will vote for boats that are not in moats but whose cargoes are instead in museums or are waiting under farm fields for their stories to be brought to the surface.

The casinos have made billions of dollars from the heritage of those boats.  Giving back a relative few million to honor the importance of steamboats to America—and to casino development in Missouri—isn’t going to make any casino executives jump off the top floor of Wynn’s in Las Vegas.

More later.

 

Notes from a quiet street (composed on a cold and dreary March day)

Think the “me too” movement is new?   Consider this report from the Union Franklin County Tribune of December 12, 1913:

“Because Mike Kincannon of Joplin, a patrolman on the police force, told the wife of a prominent railroad man to ‘go home and get some clothes on’ when he saw her on the street wearing a slit skirt, his resignation was demanded by Chief of Police J. H. Myers.  Complaint of the patrolman’s orders to the woman were filed by the woman’s husband.”

(Isn’t that a little intriguing? Some creative writer could take that story and structure various narratives stemming from at least two questions: Why was the woman (especially a married woman) wearing a “slit skirt” on the street in those days?  Why did the husband complain? And what happened to Kincannon after that? What did HIS wife tell him after hearing of the comment? This, my friends, is a potential short story on the hoof.)

000

By now we all should have learned to consider March with suspicion.  December was a plunge into the darkness and cold of winter. January was the depths but that faint light in the distance was February which, while still not pleasant, at least raise hopes with the realization that it was a short month and by the end of it men would be playing baseball and racing cars again. Then comes March and we inevitably expect more of it than it deserves. Even the spring solstice on March 21 does not bring lasting relief.  Although April is considered the “cruelest month,” it nonetheless brings us greening grass and budding trees and the promise of May. Let us be patient and tolerant of March.  It cannot help itself.

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We were talking to a friend the other day who has heard confident predictions that President Trump could be elected for four more years in 2020. “The chances are good that he’ll get the nomination as long as political parties have ‘Winner Take All’ or ‘Winner Take Most’ primaries in which someone with thirty percent of the vote gets one-hundred percent of the delegates,” she said.  “If political parties had proportional primaries, conventions might be worth paying attention to again. The 2016 Republican convention sure would have been if the primaries had been proportional in awarding delegates.”

I didn’t ask her when she’d start wearing a MCGA hat—Make Conventions Great Again.

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Governor Parson knows that we can’t keep letting our roads and bridges turn to rust and rubble.  That’s why he’s out banging the drum for his bond issue proposal.  He really doesn’t have much of a choice, given voter resistance to any kind of a fuel tax increase that might keep a school bus or two from winding up in a creek.  But there’s a cost that does with issuing bonds.

All of us who ever borrowed money—whether it was to buy a car, a house, a daughter’s wedding, or to pay some backed-up bills—knows that we’ll have to pay off those loans.  And making payments on loans reduces the amount of money in our general bank account, limiting our choices in buying food, taking vacations, buying some nice things from time to time.

Because we as citizens refuse to pay for it now, we’ll pay for it later.  A long time later.

But somebody has to do something to keep school buses out of creeks.

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The city council in Jefferson City passed a resolution Monday night urging every citizen of the town who comes in contact with members of the legislature to tell them how much it would mean to the city to build a national steamboat museum here. Legislative employees, landlords who rent space to lawmakers, businesses that serve them food and libations, stores that sell them clothes or tires—anybody who sees a legislator needs to get in their ears about passing the bills financing this museum project, says the resolution in so many words.

Yes, I instigated it.  Not sure how the Missouri Ethics Commission will handle registering an entire city as a lobbyist but if it does figure it out, I’ll pay the ten dollar registration fee.

 

Tea party politics, 1860

One in ten people living in Missouri in 1860 was a slave.  A total of 24,302 slaveholders owned 114, 931 slaves.  Thirteen percent of Missouri families had at least one slave.  The division within the state on the issue of slavery played out in different ways.  The situation was serious enough that national news correspondents came here to witness it.

A seeming innocent request by a church congregation to borrow the Senate Chamber for a few hours turned into an example of the conflict within Missouri and among Missourians as the nation trembled at the precipice of a Civil War. It began because a church wanted to hold a tea party.

The Senate Journal for March 5, 1860 is the usual dry record of procedures.  “On motion of Mr. Scott;

Resolved, That the use of the Senate Chamber be granted to the Methodist Episcopal Church on Tuesday evening, the 13th inst., for the purpose of giving a tea party for the benefit of the church.”  The motion was approved with only two or three barely audible “no” votes.

But some people started thinking about that resolution overnight and the next morning “Mr. Thompson moved reconsideration of the vote granting the use of the Senate Chamber to the Methodist Episcopal Church on Tuesday, the 13th inst; Which motion was decided in the affirmative…”

A correspondent for the New York Tribune watched what the journal does not record:

This morning, Senator Thompson of Clay moved a reconsideration on the ground that the Methodist Episcopal Church is Anti-Slavery, and an enemy to “the institutions” of the state. This brought out Senator Scott, in one of the finest vindications of political and religious freedom it has been my fortune to listen to in the State. It is more valuable, coming as it did from a most decided advocate of Slavery. It is impossible to do it justice in a hasty sketch.

He said he hoped the resolution would not be reconsidered. He remembered no instance in which the chamber had been refused any other denomination. It was true the Methodist Episcopal Church was thoroughly Anti-Slavery. They had the constitutional right to be so, as much as he had to be Pro-Slavery. His right to be Pro-Slavery and theirs to be Anti-Slavery, had a common origin in the inalienable rights of man beyond the just control of human governments. He believed Slavery to be a moral, social and political blessing—best for the white man and best for the negro—and he was not afraid of Anti-Slavery sentiments or Anti-Slavery arguments in the churches or out of them. If Slavery was right, it would be maintained. There was no danger in error, when truth was left free to combat it.  He asked for himself the common rights of a citizen, of a freeman, and was willing to grant them to all others. Was Slavery so weak that it must be maintained by proscription? by a violation of the constitutional rights of our citizens? The denial of freedom of thought and religion? If so it was time it was out of the State. He was not willing to make the admission, and was sorry that anybody else was. Proscription would defeat its own purposes. The freedom of thought and discussion could not be crushed out by it. The Christian Religion had reached us through the proscription of ages, standing the test of infidel oppression, and arguments supported by local tyrannies and temporal persecutions. The Reformation swept over Europe like a tornado, unappalled by the terrors of the Inquisition. Even Mormonism flourished as long as it was animated by the fires of proscription. Driven into the Wilderness, a desert state astonished the world at the base of the mountains. Another example was the proscription of the Catholics by the Know Nothings. The charge of proscription broke up the organization. Many who were in it were now proscribing the Methodists.  Were the lessons of experience lost upon them? Would they never learn them? The Methodist Episcopal Church was one of the oldest and most numerous denominations in the country. Founded by the great Wesley, thoroughly Anti-Slavery, its discipline had undergone no change for three quarters of a century. It was now what it had  been before the division of the Church, when its members from all parts of the Union worshipped at the same Anti-Slavery alter [sic].  He was willing that they should worship God as of yore, according to the dictates of their own consciences, unmolested by the hard hand of proscription. He believed them to be obedient to the Constitution and the law. If not, he did not doubt the power of the State to bring them to punishment. To exclude them from the Senate Chamber for their religious opinions, learned from Wesley, the founder of Methodism and steadily maintained through the long history of the Church, was indiscriminately granted to all other denominations, was an attempt in violation of the Constitution of the United States, to prohibit the free exercise of religion, and in violation of the Constitution of this State, a denial that all men have a natural and indefeasible right to worship Almighty God according to the dictates of their own consciences; an attempt, by human authorities to control and interfere with the rights of conscience, and to give preference to sects and modes of worship. He was sorry that such a wrong should become by anybody, but not surprised that it should be asked in e name of Democracy, which had long since lost its original meaning, and become synonymous with despotism.

Senator Parsons, a determined advocate of Slavery, rose to reply. He is a great, big, stalwart, black-featured specimen of humanity, whose contour and manner irresistibly suggest “Border Ruffian.”  There were some strange things in his speech. He astonished the Senate with the statement that, ‘Bishop Andrews “was driven out of the church because he wouldn’t sell a slave girl he had got by his wife to a stranger.” Whether the statement was intended to carry with it the idea that the Bishop inherited the slave girl was left to inference. But with or without inference it was a rare item of intelligence, and could only have been dug out of the voluminous church controversy by the most laborious and profound research. It has established the Senator’s character as a well-informed man, and hereafter his statements will be received with universal credence.

Senator Halliburton followed on the same side. He, too, had made a discovery. The Senate listened in breathlessness. The Senator read from a scrapbook he held in his hand the astounding intelligence the Methodist-Episcopal Church was Anti-Slavery. He seemed to have just discovered it in some concealed book of church history, and put it in his scrapbook, that the world might not lose it. Where in the world he got the information, whether in the Discipline, or whether he stumbled upon it in some profound research into church history, I do not know; but that he has it, and in a way that the world can never lose it, there can be no doubt. The fact is, I heard it myself, and the Church need no longer deny it. The Senator stoutly insisted the Anti-Slavery sentiments of the church were not religious, but political, and on that account, they ought to be excluded from the chamber.

Senator Scott said if this were so, it was nonetheless proscription. Under the Constitution and laws of the State, there were two modes of emancipation—one, to emancipate on compensation to the owners, as had been done in the West Indies; the other to amend the Constitution, and pass a gradual emancipation act. Anti-Slavery citizens had the same right to insist on the measure as he had to oppose them. It was simply a question of freedom of opinion and discussion, and he was sorry to see any advocate of Slavery to defend by proscription of any kind, religious or political. It was the worst possible defense for Slavery, and would do more to break it up than anything else.

The discussion shows the character of Slavery. It originated in wrong, and must be maintained in the same way. It cannot bear discussion, and hence, its advocates want to suppress it. I need hardly add that the resolution was reconsidered and laid on the table. This is the institution which the Constitution totes into the Territories under the Dred Scott decision; and if it cannot be toted out again, no Christian denomination can have a tea-party there without indorsing [sic] Slavery.

About three weeks later, the March 28 journal recorded:

“Mr. Goodlett offered the following resolution: Resolved, That Mr. Wm. E. Dunscomb, Commissioner of the Permanent Seat of Government, be and is hereby authorized to grant to the ladies of the Methodist Episcopal Church South, the use of the Senate chamber on the evening of the 10th of April next, for a charitable purpose.”  The Senate passed the resolution a few hours later.

The Methodist Episcopal Church South favored slavery.

The Methodist, Presbyterian, and Baptist Churches split—the Presbyterians in 1838, the Methodist Episcopals in 1844, and the Baptists in 1845 with the Southern Baptist Convention being formed and later becoming the nation’s largest Protestant denomination.

And who were these men whose actions in March of 1860 reflected the growing divide in our country?

Senator John Scott was from Buchanan County. He was elected to the Senate to replace Robert M. Stewart when Stewart was elected governor.

Senator James T.V. Thompson probably was one of the first 75 residents of Liberty.  He was part of the Confederate Senate that met in Neosho and passed an act of secession. He called himself a “an old-fashioned states’ rights Jackson Democrat” who donated the ground on which William Jewell College was built.

Senator Wesley Halliburton moved to Randolph County from Tennessee in 1823. He helped write the state constitution of 1875, which lasted for seventy years until it was replaced by a constitution that his grandson, Senator Allen McReynolds, helped write. He was one of the incorporators of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railway Company, the only railroad that did not go bankrupt in the early days.  His southern sympathies led to his arrest by federal troops at the start of the Civil War. He was one of the first men arrested in northeast Missouri and was imprisoned in Quincy, Illinois until he was ordered released. He founded the first newspaper in Milan.

Senator Mosby Monroe Parsons was a Jefferson City lawyer who commanded a Confederate brigade in Sterling Price’s army.  He was among the rebels who refused to surrender at the war’s end and went to Mexico where he was among a half-dozen American Confederate soldiers killed by Mexican troops in August, 1865. His family home at 105 Jackson Street is one of the homes the city has taken over under a widespread eminent domain action so it can be made habitable again. It’s one of the city’s oldest homes.

Senator M. C. Goodlett, whose resolution allowing an event by the slavery supporting branch of the Methodist church, was a slave owning Warrensburg lawyer.  He went south with Governor Jackson.  On October 12, 1861, Goodlett introduced the bill in Missouri’s rebel senate to “dissolve” Missouri’s ties to the Union.  He apparently moved to Nashville, Tennessee after the war where his wife became a co-founder of the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

The Methodist Church, South returned to the fold in 1939 to form the Methodist Church although some congregations held out and formed the Southern Methodist Church.  The main Methodist Church merged with the Evangelical United Brethren in 1968, which is why you’re most likely to have a United Methodist Church in your town.

A church tea party that never was, was much more than the Senate Journal tells us. But the names recorded in that dry journal record come to life in a reporter’s observations and in the historical records that tell us something of what we were and who we were as the people as a terrible war was about to engulf our state.