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Dale Sparks, Associated Press Dazja Gianessi, center left, and Maya Carey are surrounded by boys signing their petition to bring ice cream back to Weirton, where the Bruster's ice cream shop has become a gambling parlor and the two Dairy Queens were closed to make way for mini casinos. Click photo for larger image. |
Sadly, the childhood rhyme just doesn't sound the same nowadays. Especially down in Weirton, W.Va., where ice cream and the sweet dreams of youth are giving way to mini casinos and the desperate dreams of gamblers.
According to Vicki Smith, a reporter with The Associated Press, it began when the Bruster's ice cream shop closed its doors only to reopen them as a betting house. A short time later, both of Weirton's Dairy Queens closed for the same reason.
The gambling parlors have been replacing the ice cream parlors -- and a number of other small businesses -- ever since West Virginia passed the Limited Video Lottery Act of 2001, allowing 9,000 video poker machines in bars, private clubs and adult settings.
What started as a fudge ripple has suddenly become a mudslide of wagering.
Smith reports that while Weirton is West Virginia's sixth-largest city, it has the highest concentration of video poker bars -- 81 licensed in a town of just 20,000. Only Wheeling and Parkersburg, with 101 each, have more. But they have thousands more residents.
Weirton is unique because of its location. Tucked up in the Mountain State's Northern Panhandle, its gambling dens are big draws on the poor neighbors of Ohio and Pennsylvania, who are legally deprived of such adult entertainment. (Legally.)
West Virginia embraced the slots as a means of breathing life -- i.e. money -- into struggling steel towns.
"But now it's all about gambling," said resident Susan Gott. "There's nowhere to go anymore, no place to take your family. Anywhere that was anything is now a gambling joint -- a house, a Dairy Queen, a doughnut shop, a bakery."
When her hair salon installed the machines, she started to boycott.
And she isn't the only person who is bothered by the way Weirton's going. Two 11-year-old girls, Dazja Gianessi and Maya Carey, are passing around a petition.
But the girls don't necessarily want the gambling to go away. (Adults have to have some place to play.)
They just want an ice cream parlor.
"I think they're just being selfish, worrying about themselves," Maya said about the greedy grown-ups. "They don't think children will do anything about it."
But in two weeks, the girls have collected nearly 600 signatures, including that of Gov. Bob Wise (No. 241).
"He said he'll try to get the ice cream back, and he's very proud of us for accomplishing this," Maya said.
Of course, the petition isn't the only thing Gov. Wise has signed. He's the one who signed the Limited Video Lottery Act of 2001.
Maybe he's just hedging his bets.
A big old serving of rocky road
Gary Harris, the former owner of Conneaut Lake Park, should have been focused on the ice cream being served to the kids there. Instead, he gambled on getting away with a complicated tax scheme. The IRS, however, caught him and on July 9 he will be sentenced. His wife and co-conspirator were sentenced Tuesday.
It's been a tough week for Republican state Rep. Jeff Habay of Shaler. First the State Ethics Commission fined him $13,000 for having his office staff campaign on state time. Now a Hampton man who used to campaign for him is suing him for almost $5,000 in unpaid orders dating back to 1998. Unpaid orders of campaign balloons.