Friday, January 7, 2011

Making Money Internet

I have never been a gambler.


I pay attention to horse racing twice most years, and three times at most. I find out the winner of the Kentucky Derby (though usually not by watching the actual race) and then, when the Preakness rolls around, I check to see if the same horse has won both races.


If so, I pay just enough attention to learn if that horse also wins the Belmont Stakes, taking racing’s prestigious Triple Crown. The last time a horse actually won all three races was in 1978, so since then my excitement over the Belmont Stakes has been pretty limited.


In spite of all that, I thought I knew at least one thing about the gambling world: The house always wins. But it turns out that’s not the case when New York City or New York State takes the bets.


In early December, after about 40 years in business, New York City’s Off-Track Betting Corporation (OTB) closed its doors when it failed to receive a hoped-for legislative reprieve. In its last full fiscal year, ending March 31, the state-controlled corporation operated at a loss of $37.2 million after handing over the money it was required to give to the state, local governments, and race tracks. At the time of its closing, OTB had also racked up a pension bill that, together with health benefits promised to retirees, could be greater than $600 million.


This is a pretty astonishing feat considering that OTB’s business consisted of taking money from people and then giving some of it back to them. This is a business which was previously handled by neighborhood bookies, who never seemed to have a problem making money at it. To be fair, the bookies probably had a less generous pension plan.


Yet both New York City and New York State managed to fail to make money in the business of taking money for nothing. The city finally gave up in 2008, when it handed its mess over to the state.


Officials have tried to blame OTB’s collapse on decreased interest in horse racing. Speaking with The New York Times, John D. Sabini, chairman of the State Racing and Wagering Board, referred to off-track betting as “an industry that’s having a tough time…in a tough economy.” But while decreased demand is a fine excuse for not making much money, a gambling outfit should still be able to avoid losing money. All you have to do is reduce expenses to match revenues.


OTB could have easily closed down many or all of its betting parlors and relied on a small staff to manage Internet and phone traffic. For some businesses, atmosphere is everything, but OTB considered it a major upgrade in “customer amenities” when it installed restrooms and seating in 1993. It seems safe to say then that, while some may have enjoyed a sense of camaraderie in the storefront parlors, most people didn’t turn to off-track betting for the luxurious environment. With the cost savings from closing physical locations, OTB could have done some advertising to try to boost demand. That is what any rational manager would have done.


Unfortunately, instead of having rational managers, OTB had New York City and then New York State.


OTB was designed to function as a public benefit corporation, an entity that operates like a private business but turns over its profits to the state. However, everyone knew that OTB, being affiliated with New York City, was almost certain to become a bastion of patronage, if not corruption, and probably would never admit to having any profits to give back to the government. So lawmakers decided to have the corporation pay the city, and later also the state, a portion of its gross revenue, rather than its net profits. As Assemblyman J. Gary Pretlow of Mount Vernon succinctly explained: “If they’re allowed to pay on the net there would be nothing left over.”


This structure meant that the state was sure of getting some money, but it also meant the government had little reason to encourage OTB to cut costs. Meanwhile OTB had no assurance that it would have enough money after paying the state and the city to actually cover its operating costs, let alone reinvest in its business. The result was inevitable. Now that inevitability has come to pass.


It may take some skill to lose money collecting bets, but it’s the kind of skill New York has in spades. When it comes to the sport of mismanagement, there’s no doubt about it: The people who run the Empire State are thoroughbreds.


For more articles on financial, business, and other topics, view the Palisades Hudson newsletter, Sentinel, or subscribe to my daily opinion column, Current Commentary.





Hullabaloo








Wednesday, January 05, 2011




 

"Philanthrocapitalism" and the Lucky Duckies

by digby


If you read nothing else today, be sure to read Cynthia Freeland's piece in the Atlantic about the new super-rich. She discusses what may be the most important aspect of the plutonomy --- the fact that it's unmoored from national allegiance. This is an important insight and gets to what I think is really the big transformation of our time: the unraveling of the nation state. You see it in these international institutions like the IMF and in huge multi-national corporations, of course. But I hadn't realized until I read this just how much the super-rich had adopted a transnational identity.

I'm not entirely sure that it's a bad thing in the long run --- there's nothing that says the nation state is the only possible human organizing principle. It's actually fairly new in historical terms. Something different could feasibly end up being better. But at the moment the only people who are currently benefiting from this new arrangement are the very wealthy and powerful. And there is a very good chance that this will not go well for regular folks in the long run either.

In the meantime, here's what we are dealing with:
If you are looking for the date when America’s plutocracy had its coming-out party, you could do worse than choose June 21, 2007. On that day, the private-equity behemoth Blackstone priced the largest initial public offering in the United States since 2002, raising $4 billion and creating a publicly held company worth $31 billion at the time. Stephen Schwarzman, one of the firm’s two co-founders, came away with a personal stake worth almost $8 billion, along with $677 million in cash; the other, Peter Peterson, cashed a check for $1.88 billion and retired.

In the sort of coincidence that delights historians, conspiracy theorists, and book publishers, June 21 also happened to be the day Peterson threw a party—at Manhattan’s Four Seasons restaurant, of course—to launch The Manny, the debut novel of his daughter, Holly, who lightly satirizes the lives and loves of financiers and their wives on the Upper East Side. The best seller fits neatly into the genre of modern “mommy lit”—USA Today advised readers to take it to the beach—but the author told me that she was inspired to write it in part by her belief that “people have no clue about how much money there is in this town.”

Holly Peterson and I spoke several times about how the super-affluence of recent years has changed the meaning of wealth. “There’s so much money on the Upper East Side right now,” she said. “If you look at the original movie Wall Street, it was a phenomenon where there were men in their 30s and 40s making $2 and $3 million a year, and that was disgusting. But then you had the Internet age, and then globalization, and you had people in their 30s, through hedge funds and Goldman Sachs partner jobs, who were making $20, $30, $40 million a year. And there were a lot of them doing it. I think people making $5 million to $10 million definitely don’t think they are making enough money.”

As an example, she described a conversation with a couple at a Manhattan dinner party: “They started saying, ‘If you’re going to buy all this stuff, life starts getting really expensive. If you’re going to do the NetJet thing’”—this is a service offering “fractional aircraft ownership” for those who do not wish to buy outright—“‘and if you’re going to have four houses, and you’re going to run the four houses, it’s like you start spending some money.’”

The clincher, Peterson says, came from the wife: “She turns to me and she goes, ‘You know, the thing about 20’”—by this, she meant $20 million a year—“‘is 20 is only 10 after taxes.’ And everyone at the table is nodding.”

That's nice. One wonders whether Holly will be "satirizing" the lives of the millions of elderly Americans her father seeks to impoverish with his crusade to destroy social security. A crusade which Freeland inexplicably seems to think is a form of "philanthropy"!


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