A public meeting in the Hill District tonight will give residents a chance to weigh in on the potential impact of the Isle of Capri casino proposed near Mellon Arena.

The meeting begins at 6 p.m. at Kaufmann Auditorium at the Hill House, 1835 Centre Ave.

Some fear the casino could bring crime and parking problems and exploit people least able to afford gambling. Others see it as an opportunity for economic development in the Hill.

The time to speak out is now, said Kim Ellis, a Hill resident actively rallying citizens to protest any casino plan.

The run-up to the casino project is reminiscent of what happened in the Hill 50 years ago, when the city, to clear Pittsburgh's smoky image and halt middle-class flight, floated a plan of urban renewal.

It began in the Lower Hill, a vibrant, racially integrated but struggling community of small shops, nightclubs and 8,000 residents.

The renewal was to be hinged on the Civic Arena, the bauble in an ambitious plan to establish a cultural district in the Lower Hill.

The renewal plan and its promise to clean the blight from the Hill drew early support from black leadership. Homer Brown, one of Allegheny County's first black judges, helped shape the Pittsburgh Package, which led to demolition of hundreds of homes.

The Pittsburgh Courier, the influential black newspaper, hailed the plan.

Instead, the project ripped apart the social fabric of the Hill and never became an engine of revitalization. Fifty years later, parts of the Hill still struggle to recover.

Isle of Capri Casinos Inc. has teamed with the Penguins and pledged $290 million for a new arena in addition to the casino.

A Hill gaming task force, a coalition of residents, faith groups and social service agencies, is hosting tonight's meeting.

The group says it wants to keep residents informed about opportunities and risks of the casino proposal, but has not taken a public stance on the possible negative consequences of casinos.

Looking back, many black activists said not enough was done 50 years ago to educate the community on the consequences of urban renewal or to seek its input into redevelopment.

The casino plans do not seek eminent domain takeover of properties. No housing is threatened under the proposal. But some say the traffic, negative social impact and other risks aren't offset by the low-wage employment offered by the casino.

The casino plans are a conundrum similar to that of the '50s, said Alma Speed Fox, longtime NAACP organizer and head of Freedom Unlimited, a social service group in the Hill.

Mrs. Fox said she doesn't believe enough is being done to inform residents about the various plans.

Fifty years ago, Robert Lavelle was an accountant with the Courier and a vice president of the NAACP. Now a proprietor of one of the Hill's only investment and mortgage firms, he said "there were too few people organizing to combat [the arena]. Too many of us were sleeping."

In fact, said Larry Glasco, a history professor at the University of Pittsburgh, the first wave of protests to the renewal came from Italians, who bemoaned losing St. Peter Church and its beloved grotto.

It wasn't until about five years later, after the pace of demolition accelerated and displacement of families increased, that African-American protests spiked, he said.

The NAACP visited block clubs, churches and other groups to urge that residents resist further renewal, which planners wanted to push deeper into the Hill.

Frankie Pace, an outspoken Hill District businesswoman, believed that renewal rested in the hands of citizens. In the 1960s, she formed the Citizens Committee for Hill District Renewal and launched a cooperative of 2,000 craftsmen. They paid $1 each to join her group and it was her plan that they collectively rebuild the Hill.

She also worked with activist James McCoy to mobilize the grass-roots campaign "Not Another Inch," the pivotal protest of citizens that shut down the renewal at Centre and Crawford avenues, which today is the site of Freedom Corner.

Through a tireless campaign of e-mails and grass-roots work with artists, Ms. Ellis is appealing to the community to halt any casino plan. A week ago, she stood nearly alone on a cold Friday on Freedom Corner protesting the casino development. Hers, she said, is the voice of the people.

"I talk to people on the bus, I'm passing out fliers," she said. "I know that we're at the place where we are saying not another inch."

If people don't start speaking up, said Dr. Glasco, the casino "could be a sad, scary parallel to what happened in 1956."