Q: Is he a friend of yours, Mr. Milton McGregor?
A: Oh, I know him. Yes, ma’am. I know him.
Q: What’s the extent of your personal relationship with him: acquaintances, close friends?
A: No, just acquaintances.
Q: Acquaintances?
A: Yes, ma’am. I mean I know him well enough to know him. We don’t eat dinner or anything together like that.
— Larry Langford, testifying to the SEC, June 21, 2007
Quasi slot machine gambling — commonly called video bingo — is alive again in Birmingham, resurrected by a never-ending lobbying campaign, four city councilors eager to be wooed, and of course Mayor Larry Langford.
On Tuesday the Birmingham City Council legalized video bingo for charities. However those “charities” must have no fewer than 500 machines, and beginning next year, each machine will require a $2,000 license fee payable to the city. Furthermore, 15 percent of revenues will go to the Birmingham Board of Education. Isn’t interesting how quickly vice becomes virtue when government gets a cut?
Indeed, there’s money to be made in gambling, and it’s there for just about anyone but those who gamble. Few people should know that as well as Mayor Langford. He’s seen it from both sides.
“Yes, we are. So when y’all run up and ask me, you and McGregor are friends, yeah’ we are. He’s a darn good friend and I value the friendship.”
— Larry Langford to the Birmingham City Council, June 2, 2009
Langford makes no secret of his gambling exploits. In public speeches he has described the development of roads to Mississippi casinos. He recounts the number of Alabama license plates in the parking lots there.
In a deposition to HealthSouth lawyers last year, he was asked whether he and former Jefferson County Commissioner John Katopodis had seen each other recently. Langford told them they’d gone gambling together the previous weekend in Shorter, Ala., home of Milton McGregor’s VictoryLand. That’s where they went to gamble when they didn’t have a lot of money to lose, Langford explained. When money wasn’t so tight, they took the longer trips to Philadelphia, Miss.
Third-hand anecdotes abound of Langford pulling big jackpots on high-dollar slots, the apparent beneficiary of an invisible hand. One lawsuit against VictoryLand claims the game was rigged to give Langford special treatment. But as is the case with gamblers, you often hear about their wins but not their losses.
Q: Do you know whether or not Mr. Milton McGregor got involved at all with your loan indebtedness to Colonial?
A: No, ma’am. I wouldn’t know at all.
Q: Do you have any reason, and I know that you didn’t have a personal loans, but when Ms. Karen Cope was telling Mr. Blount that Mr. Milton tells Mr. Lowder he will personally guarantee that it will be paid?
A: No, ma’am. I wouldn’t know.
— Larry Langford, testifying to the SEC, June 21, 2007
The nexus of Langford’s gambling habits and his political machinations was conspicuous enough to draw the attention of federal investigators. At least one company that leases gambling machines to McGregor’s facilities appeared before the federal grand jury. According to Langford’s lawyer, Tom Baddley, the mayor has provided the Justice Department with tax returns documenting wins and losses from gambling.
“They didn’t find anything there but a dry hole,” Baddley said.
Q: Maybe I asked this before. Have you ever had any business dealings with Mr. McGregor?
A: Well, outside of him, just — I mean I could have at the opening of what you call an e-mail. You go out to this dog track. They have like these slot machines out there with an Internet ribbon-cutting ceremony. But that’s just about it.
Q: Okay. Have you ever owed Mr. McGregor or any of his businesses any money?
A: No.
— Larry Langford, testifying to the SEC, June 21, 2007
Shortly after winning election in 2007, Langford persuaded the city council and the Birmingham business community to support a sales tax and business license hike for, among other things, a domed stadium. Only Councilor Valerie Abbott bothered to ask where the stadium would go, but her colleagues scoffed at her for nitpicking. The question was pertinent. No sooner had the council approved the tax hike than Langford revealed his preferred site — adjacent to McGregor’s gambling facility in eastern Birmingham.
Q: Have you ever received any money from Mr. McGregor?
A: No. Not to my knowledge. I’ve never. No. I don’t work for him; and he’s never paid me anything.
Q: Any campaign contributions?
A: That’s why I said to my knowledge. He may have. I just don’t know.
— Larry Langford, testifying to the SEC, June 21, 2007
Subsequent to the 2007 mayoral election, Langford received at least $25,000 from McGregor to retire campaign debt. Prior to that, McGregor contributed tens of thousands of dollars to political action committees, which then donated money through the PAC-to-PAC maze to Langford’s campaign. All told, McGregor was Langford’s single largest political contributor. If anyone believes it was the first time, I’ve got a domed stadium downtown I’d like to sell you.
Now if you don’t like Milton McGregor — not you personally — if you don’t like Milton McGregor, I personally like the guy for two reasons. One, he’s just a great guy. But two, when that horse track out there was about to fold and $80 million went down the tubes, he invested in this city and kept it open. All of us should have those kinds of friends.
— Larry Langford press conference, August 22, 2008.
McGregor knows the political finance game as well as anyone in the state, and he knows better than to get snared in the kind of exchange that took down Don Siegelman and Richard Scrushy. There’s nuance to the game. The understanding is there, but it’s more implicit and less explicit. Nor is McGregor alone. Gambling money infuses politics from many directions in Alabama — from the Alabama Indians, from the Mississippi Indians, from churches down the street and from the doublewide casinos in Walker County.
Political finance is the one game in town wherein fools and money will soon be reunited.
War on Dumb is a column about political culture. Write to kyle@bhamweekly.com
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