NO DICE: THE BACKLASH AGAINST GAMBLING

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But Fahrenkopf, speaking for the industry, is quick to point out that gaming (he never uses the word gambling) is creating jobs and "rejuvenating dying cities.'' And he adds, "We don't agree that Tom Grey and his supporters have the right to force their morality on others." Pulling a cue card from his pinstripe suit, Fahrenkopf reads H.L. Mencken's definition of a puritan: "'Someone who is afraid that, somewhere, someone else is having a good time.' The next time I see Tom, I'll say, 'Tom, you're a puritan!'"

It is to Fahrenkopf's advantage to lump all gambling opponents in with the religious right--and to Grey's to deny it. "If we based our opposition on personal morality, we would lose," says Grey. "After all, a majority of Americans gamble. But we're not for prohibition. People can go to Las Vegas or play poker in their homes. We are just saying, Let's stop the expansion of gambling." At his Washington press conference, Grey acknowledged seeking funds from the Christian Coalition, but, with a mischievous glance toward Ralph Reed, pointedly introduced ncalg's new political director, Bernard Horn, as "a Jewish lawyer who was a gun-control lobbyist."

In fact, in several states, Common Cause and N.A.A.C.P. chapters are fighting gambling alongside restaurant associations, bowling alleys, video arcades, theme parks and racetracks that fear losing business to casinos. Nonetheless, NCALG's main foot soldiers are so-called traditional-values and pro-family activists. In Louisiana this week Southern Baptists are escorting Grey to rallies around the state. In Michigan Christian Coalition members helped collect 100,000 signatures on petitions to block casinos in Detroit. So far, Roman Catholic churches, with their bingo and Las Vegas nights, have been little help, while main-line Protestant churches just "like to pass resolutions," Grey scoffs. "I don't have time to organize the goddam rear. This is a citizens' movement. We're the 82d Airborne. We've got to land people now."

On a recent landing in Mississippi, however, the road-warrior reverend found his path strewn with obstacles. Few states have embraced gambling so wholeheartedly. Since 1992, when the first riverboat casino floated down the Mississippi River to Tunica, the desperately poor county that Jesse Jackson once called "America's Ethiopia," 28 casinos have sprung up from the Tennessee border to the Gulf Coast. These garish palaces employ 27,300 people and last year put $189 million into state and local coffers. "Hey, look, Tom Grey, gaming is working here in Mississippi!" declares host Rip Daniels, welcoming Grey to his talk show on WJZD, Gulfport's Afro-American radio station. Grey cites failed restaurants and increased crime in Gulfport since casinos arrived. "The more gambling, the more the rich get richer," he charges. "Casinos are in the business of separating you from your paycheck."

Daniels is unimpressed. "That's capitalism, isn't it?" he says. "If people lose more than they expected, it's because they were greedy." Grey homes in on gambling addiction and related suicides. "Casinos welcome 'em in, milk 'em dry and throw 'em onto the street," he says. But few of the talk show's callers are converted. "A lot of people have casino jobs and are better off," says Candy. Denise agrees: "It's safe, clean entertainment, and tourists love it. "