Nelson Johnson - Boardwalk Empire - The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City

Sanford Weiner began his work by getting the lay of the land. He directed a team of volunteers and paid staff workers in compiling a vast amount of knowledge on the entire state, including financial information, demographics, and traditional loyalties among the voting public. From this research he made statistical overlays and ran them through a computer to analyze voting patterns in past New Jersey elections, i.e., what the turnout was and how various areas tended to vote. These facts plus Census Bureau information for individual regions gave him a generalized voting profile of every county and city in the state. Finally, through the use of sophisticated telephone polling techniques he learned the general attitude of the public toward the legalization of gambling. Financed by money from Resorts International, these polls were conducted throughout the campaign up to Election Day, and were relied on in the formulation of a week-by-week campaign strategy.

Weiner had to know what the voters were thinking prior to making his sales pitch. The ordinary person votes his prejudices; an effective campaign is one that appeals to what the voter already believes in, rather than trying to reshape his opinion through educating him. By early summer, weeks before he began his media blitz, Weiner learned that 34 percent of New Jersey’s voters supported the idea of casinos in Atlantic City; 31 percent opposed it, with the remaining 35 percent undecided. The first group would vote YES no matter was type of campaign was waged. The second group was a lost cause and there would be no effort wasted on them. It was the undecided voter who was the target.

Generally, it’s easier to get people to vote against someone or something than for a particular candidate or issue. When it comes to political elections, people are more strongly motivated by negative feelings. The voter who has made up his mind to oppose a person or question is more likely to get to the polls than someone who supports a cause. The only thing pro-casino forces were running “against” was Atlantic City’s poverty, hardly an issue that inspired strong feelings outside of the immediate region. Weiner knew he had to get to the undecided voters before someone else gave them a reason to vote NO. Thus, the appeal couldn’t be made to a negative attitude. If the campaign was to be successful, it had to be based upon a preconceived notion of the electorate strong enough to make the undecided voter go out and vote YES.

Weiner found what he was looking for in his early polling surveys. In reviewing his telephone polls Weiner learned that nearly eight out of 10 New Jersey voters believed that casinos had the potential to generate large amounts of revenue for state government. While the average voter didn’t know just how much revenue gambling would produce, they felt strongly it had to be a lot of money. After all, didn’t Nevada have one of the lowest tax rates in the nation? This was the core attitude upon which to build a sales campaign. The voters already believed gambling could be a positive thing to their wallets by minimizing the taxes they would have to pay to state government. Weiner had a ready-made audience. All he had to do was to bolster the voters’ faith with the right numbers.

One of several consulting firms hired by Weiner to reinforce his strategy was Economic Research Associates of Washington, D.C. Their study projected the economic impact casinos would have on Atlantic City. It didn’t matter that the figures could possibly have been different—they were good ones, and Weiner ran with them. According to the study, were gambling approved, the first five years would see $844 million on renovation and new construction in the resort, 21,000 permanent new jobs, 19,000 construction-related positions, and $400 million new wages. Equally important was the estimate that gambling would generate $17.7 million for senior citizens and the disabled by 1980. Having the numbers he wanted, Weiner proceeded to weave a wonderful tale: With the approval of casino gambling, Atlantic City would be reborn and the state treasury would overflow with money for the aged and the handicapped. The campaign was off and running.

By mid-summer Weiner moved into high gear, and C.R.A.C. was right in step. When the national political parties held their presidential nominating conventions, the resort’s politicians seized on the opportunity to court New Jersey’s power brokers. A contingent screened and prepped by C.R.A.C. was sent to each convention. There was a series of lavish receptions sponsored by Resorts International where the state’s leading politicians were stroked. The message delivered to Democrats and Republicans alike was the tack Hap Farley had used for years: “I need your support, but if you can’t help, whatever you do, please don’t hurt me.” Typifying the gains derived from such contacts was an exchange for benefit of the media between Pat McGahn and State Senator Anne Martindell. McGahn: “She said she’s made her last speech against casinos.” Martindell: “I didn’t say that.” “Then you said you would be too busy working for Jimmy Carter to campaign against it.” “That’s it.”

The state’s political leaders weren’t the only ones wooed by C.R.A.C. One of Weiner’s criticisms of the 1974 failure was that it was an elitist campaign. He decided to create a troupe of more than 100 average citizen volunteers from every walk of life and train them in public speaking. They were briefed on the campaign statistics, which Weiner wanted them to use in their talks to ensure every audience got the same message. Engagements were made for these people throughout the state to speak to groups of their peers: construction workers spoke to construction workers; teachers to teachers; doctors to doctors; accountants to accountants, and so on. In addition to getting out the message by ordinary people on common terms, Weiner had regional campaign headquarters established with primary emphasis on the populace in urban areas of northern New Jersey. Paid campaign workers, assisted by busloads of Atlantic City residents, hit the streets giving out literature and recruiting supporters. In many instances they had the help of the local political organizations who made casino gambling part of their campaigns. Weiner’s troops were on the move.

As Election Day approached, Weiner launched a media blitz that surpassed anything ever done in support of a referendum in New Jersey. From mid-October to November 2, C.R.A.C. bought more than $750,000 worth of advertising. High-powered commercials were placed on the area television networks, and airtime was bought on nearly every local radio station. During the last two weeks of the campaign, Weiner prepared 14 different television commercials and scheduled more than 1,200 spots on the Philadelphia and New York stations that covered New Jersey. As for radio, during the final 14 days there were nearly 4,500 ads on 70 different stations. In a typical radio spot a sincere voice described the plight of a 72-year-old woman. “Although old and alone, she can still be helped if only you vote YES for casino gambling in Atlantic City.” The announcer explained how the money raised by casinos would help this poor old woman with her rent and utility bills. Everyone had an aging mother, grandmother, aunt, or neighbor. It would cost the voter nothing to lend her a hand with her utility bills and prescriptions. It was Atlantic City marketing at its best.

In addition to the electronic media there were thousands of billboards, posters, and bumper stickers saturating the state’s highways and shopping centers. The main pitch was to the voters’ pocket-book—what casinos in Atlantic City will do for people all over New Jersey. The campaign slogan was “Help Yourself—Casinos Yes.” The telephone polling continued in order to gauge the campaign’s impact. Where the results showed a large percentage of undecided voters, television and radio spots were increased to saturation levels and campaign workers were sent door-to-door to distribute C.R.A.C. propaganda.