The Los Angeles Times from Los Angeles, California • 95

I Coa Anjjeles STitncs Mar. 23, 1980 Pari VI 5 Legalized Gambling Doesn't Pay Off Byrne doesn't yet see the point at which the entire venture would be counterproductive. "Casinos are going to have problems. Banks have problems, too," he explained. But if the message isn't yet clear in Jersey, it is in neighboring New York, which, with a number of states, has been considering casinos.

The New York Times editoralized: "The scandal unfolding in New Jersey, after only two years of casino activity, shows that gambling is a business so rich, so fast, so powerful and perhaps inevitably so unsavory that it cannot help but undermine government." It should now be plain, the paper said, "that practically nothing can make casinos worth the risk." Casinos, said the New York Daily News, are by their nature "run on human greed from every participant, and greed and honesty do not go hand in hand." The News said politicians "drooling with envy (at the) big gambling bucks" in New Jersey should ask themselves how New York, which "couldn't even handle nursing homes without a big scandal," could possibly "keep gambling above suspicion." Whether such advice will be heeded isn't certain. Memories are short. Inevitably, gambling is presented as a way to bolster government revenues, to finance noble social objectives asylums and charity hospitals in Louisiana a century ago, aid for the elderly in New Jersey today. But whether one's measure is monetary or moral, state and local governments eventually pay an immense price for gambling's "something for nothing." Neal R. Peine writes on urban issues and government for the National Journal.

cleansed from U.S. gambling. But in the 1970s the idea spread that gambling could be a "something for nothing" bonanza for financially pinched states. The number of state lotteries zoomed from two to 14. On- and off-track betting expanded; Connecticut and Rhode Island let jai alai through the door.

New Jersey took the ultimate step in legalizing the first casinos outside Nevada. So far, the current state lotteries have suffered only minor scandals -although, given the millions of dollars handled weekly, it's probably just a matter of time until some massive computerized theft or other manipulation of the games is attempted. When Connecticut debated jai alai in 1976, it was claimed to be "the cleanest gambling game in the world." Jai alai is now under investigation in three of the four states that permit it, including Connecticut. After New Jersey's voters decided to permit casinos in Atlantic City, the state structured what Gov. Brendan Byrne still claims is "the best casino law ever put together in the world." But now Abscam has shaken the casino control commission to its footings, and the press is reporting that an astounding number of former New Jersey officials, including close associates of Byrne himself, have accepted fees and retainers by casino firms.

Byrne's own attorney general, John Deg-nan, declares that "casinos are a tremendous drain on law-enforcement resources and can't exist without being an attraction to organized crime and other forms of crime." But when I asked Byrne if he didn't now regret permitting casino gambling, he replied that it had been necessary "for the survival of Atlantic City." By NEAL R. PEIRCE It should come as no great surprise that Atlantic City's gambling casinos figure heavily in the Justice Department's "Abscam" probe of alleged bribery of congressmen and state and local government leaders. Official corruption is no stranger to New Jersey. Far from it. Public thievery and Mafia penetration have been commonplace in the state since the rum-running days of Prohibition and the 1930s influx of New York mobsters driven across the Hudson by Gotham's fiery young prosecutor, Thomas E.

Dewey. Over the years a breathtakingly high number of New Jersey politicians have been packed off to jail for official malfeasance. Some people hoped the tough sweep of federal prosecutions that started in 1969 had finally broken Jersey's politico-racket complex. But the potential billions involved in casino gambling, approved by voters in 1976, may provide irresistible temptations for politicians. All Jersey officials "stung" by Abscam have professed their innocence and no indictments have yet been brought.

And it would be unfair to finger New Jersey alone as incapable of handling the influx of millions of dollars which casinos or, for that matter, almost any other form of gambling bring in their wake. Government-condoned gambling and official corruption are peas in a pod in America. The pattern was set by the notorious 19th-century Louisiana lottery. Forced through a well-bribed corrupt "carpetbagger" legislature in 1868, it fleeced Americans of up to $500 million a year (the equivalent of billions today) until Congress called a halt in 1890. The unsavory aroma has never since been The Graying of By ELLEN GOODMAN He was a '60s burn-out, they said.

The man was wasted. The people who knew Dennis Sweeney talked about him in terms we seem to reserve for druggies and former movement people. Burnt-out. Wasted. They talked about him as one of the thousands who spent the '60s mainlining idealism and spent their 20s getting high on activism.

They talked about him as if he were one of the people who get hooked on a movement-its community, its rhetoric, its anger and hope, its speed and after withdrawal have nothing left. Burnt-out. Wasted. Dennis Sweeney met Al Lowenstein when the student was 20 and the mentor was 34. Sweeney was arrested for shooting Lowenstein when the former student was 37 and wasted and the former mentor was 51 and still an activist.

It was surely private craziness that pulled that trigger, the craziness of a man who was afraid of the fillings in his teeth. But it was also public craziness. "In a sense he was a paradigm for a lot of young people who took part in the civil-rights movement, then became radicalized," said an old friend from Stanford. "They became permanently alienated and were lost to us, just as surely as those who were killed in Vietnam." There is a generation of people in this country who went through their youth believing that, as Conrad once said, "An ideal is often but a flaming vision of reality." Now they live in a world in which idealism is smothered with GOP Death Wish the '60s Has Only Just Begun Japanese American Politicians on Wrong Side of Redress Issue By SHOSUKE Three decades after World War II, it's hardly news that more than 100,000 U.S. residents of Japanese ancestry were summarily evacuated from their homes and placed in internment camps between 1942 and 1945, suffering financial loss and psychological damage.

Two-thirds of these prisoners were American-born U.S. citizens. Some 93,000 of the inmates were Californians. The Japanese-Americans were "relocated" to camps despite the fact that there had been no charges of espionage or sabotage on the West Coast. At long last, a formal attempt is afoot in Congress to acknowledge and atone for this injustice.

Actually, there are two attempts, of very different sorts. One, a measure introduced by Rep. Mike Lowry called the World War II Japanese-American Human Rights Violations Redress Act, would officially recognize the violation of human rights involved in the internment and provide financial remuneration to the victims and their heirs, in the amount of $15,000 plus $15 for each day of internment. The bill is a genuine effort to compensate for the harm done. The other measure, called the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians Act, is a belated and inadequate response to the growing redress movement.

Despite its co-sponsorship by a number of well-meaning Caucasian members of Congress, it is actually the brainchild of five Japanese-American co-sponsors: Sens. S. I. Hayakawa Daniel K. Inouye (D-Hawaii) and Spark M.

Matsunaga (D-Hawaii), and Reps. Norman Y. Mineta (D-Calif.) and Robert T. Matsui The bill would establish a 15-member appointed commision mandated to "gather facts PrirvJ me your marks, Your pounds, Your wrinkleJ drachma Yearning to be spent, The lovelv lii-d Of your teeming shore. Send these -The yen As well-To me.

I lift my hand Above the empty drawee. Who Are the 'Average' Folks in protestations of practicality. The survivors of the '60s range from the burn-outs to the cop-outs, from the crazed to the co-opted, from the strugglers to the serene. But we are just now beginning to see again the continuing effects of the era so many of us classify as past. Suddenly '60s people have become a subject again.

Marge Piercy's new book, "Vida," is a humane description of life in the movement in the '70s when it had been reduced to a small band of radicals limping their way across the landscape. The main male in Margaret At-wood's new book, "Life Before Man," is a stock figure from the Alternative Movement, the lawyer-turned-carpenter, revisited. Without much joy of income, he makes wooden toys that only the rich can afford. In Ann Beattie's writings, we have, one after another, collections of disconnected, disoriented, wandering exiles of the time. The bean-sprouted children who seem unable to grow up.

The cast of '60s Survivors has other familiar characters. The ones who rejected their ideal of change for 1980 "realism" and Kierkegaard: "One must be very naive to believe that it will do any good to cry out and shout in the world, as if that would change one's fate. Better take things as they come and make no fuss." The others who left storefront action groups, talking about the "need to move on" and melting into law firms. The ones who occasionally feel nostalgic, with Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger records. The ones who occasionally feel guilty.

And, of course, the Al Lowensteins, those who keep putting one foot in front of the other, who cannot abandon injustice as a priority. But how does Tuchman's staff member Michael O'Malley, who wrote the copy for the ad, translate that into the American people feeling betrayed by their government or feeling the government lies to them, is a nuisance, a troublesome pest? Those are harsh words, strong charges, a damning indictment on the failure of a democracy. The same ad goes on to say that "whatever the Founding Fathers had in mind, it surely was not a spawling bureaucracy that busied itself with the sugar on cornflakes To invoke the memories of Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin and say they would not have busied themselves with such issues as cornflakes is misleading at least. Neither would have allowed his children to be fed a breakfast cereal containing 63.7 sugar such as Sugar Smacks, or King Vitaman with 61.6 sugar. Neither would have allowed Lucky Charms, 58 sugar, or Trix, 50.7 sugar, to be fed his children as a food.

But it is hard to know what O'Malley was getting at concerning "a sprawling bureaucracy that busied itself with the sugar on cornflakes," because there are no government regulations concerning the amount of sugar that manufacturers may put on cornflakes. In the last section of the same Mobil ad, O'Malley chooses to quote Georgia's Gov. George Busbee as saying, "We've had about all the help we can take from the Feds. What we need is a little less help and a little more incentive." To quote Georgia's governor on that point is a touch of humor. According to a study conducted at Michigan State University, Georgia in fiscal 1978 got $2.6 billion in Pentagon outlays $476 million more than the state paid into the U.S.

Treasury for the year. we'll be making sacrifices at home. to 68 degrees in the car. 7 Those who keep pushing for a better world, while others turn to talk of private schools, and go to work on their tenure or their "heads." Those who dedicate their lives to making one difference at a time. Every passionate conflict, between peoples, between ideals, between social visions, creates its immediate victims and its wounded.

And its lifelong effects. It seems that we are just now separating out the survivors, the walking wounded of that frenzied era, the commonality of many who have lived through the same vast social movements. Lowenstein and Sweeney began on the same side and were bitterly estranged by the furies of time and of the mind. Sweeney was a casualty of that struggle and Lowenstein the victim of this final injustice. A few years ago he expressed his worry about Sweeney: "What I'm saying about it is that if you understand all that (the '60s lived at its most intense), there isn't any way you can underestimate the reasonableness of going crazy.

"It was a very sad sort of end to a very talented person that hacked out the fillings in his teeth because he said the CIA would use the fillings to damage his brain. He just simply had gotten to the point where I don't know if there was any way he could be reclaimed from this tragedy." It is no comfort, but Allard Lowenstein understood. Ellen Goodman writes a syndicated column in Boston. Mobil's Corner? The office of Sen. Sam Nunn (D-Ga.) said, "We've been getting $80 to $100 million a year in military construction.

That's right up there at the top, I think." Arnold Punaro in Nunn's office said Georgia ranks 13th among the states in total Defense Department outlays. Georgia ranks 16th in total federal funds given to states, and is 28th on a per-capita basis. Last year, Busbee's Georgia took $407 million from the federal government for highways and $3.1 billion from Health, Education and Welfare, including Social Security payments. All Busbee wants from the federal government is to be left alone? And why should Mobil be so unhappy? Why is it so angry at the government? Here is a company that last year ranked third in the United States in terms of revenue with income of 47.9 billion dollars. Mobil had a gain of 28.4 over 1978 in revenues and a 77.7 gain in net income $2.01 billion.

It ranked just behind General Motors and Exxon as the biggest company in the entire country. If Mobil is angry with a $2 billion net income, just imagine how angry Exxon must be at the government. It had a net income of $4.2 billion. Irwin Frank is the business editor of the Dallas Times Herald. The Best Little By PETER M.

NARDI A great number of alcoholics' children develop severe drinking problems as adults. Most of them don't get into trouble as kids. Most of them unobtrusively fit in, working hard at hiding their pain. I would like to introduce one of them, "Michael," a composite typical of the unnoticed victims of our nation's hidden tragedy. Michael was doing very well in school.

In fact, he was the brightest kid in class, the teacher's favorite, one of the best-behaved. He never created any disciplinary problems and always hung out with the good crowd. The best little boy in the world. "Why can't we all be like Michael and sit quietly?" Sister Gertrude would say in her most melodious voice. Conform, be docile, do well, be quiet.

Hold it in. Don't tell a soul. And now he was waiting at the school corner for his mother to pick him up. This was always the hardest moment. What will she look like, how will she sound? Michael could tell right away if she had been drinking.

The muffled voice, the pale, unmade-up face. He really didn't know what it was all about. He just knew that when Dad came home he would fight with her. Argue, yell, scream, run. Michael could hear them through the closed doors and over the humming of the air condi SASAKI to determine whether a wrong was committed" and "recommend appropriate remedies" in a report to Congress within 18 months after enactment of the bill in short, it would delay any real action on the matter.

Worse yet, the bill does not provide for any form of redress. In fact, in recent years, none of the Japanese-American sponsors has publicly uttered a single word specifically in favor of individual redress to the victims of the evacuation order. Hayakawa, in fact, has publicly opposed the notion. Privately, the Japanese -American legislators may view the redress issue as a potential threat to their political careers. If they support Lowry's redress bill, they may lose some Caucasian votes; if they fail to support it, they stand to lose Japanese-American votes.

In addition to wasting time and taxpayer money, the commission bill would actually deny redress to hundreds of issei (first-generation immigrants) and nisei (second-generation immigrants) victims of the evacuation. As a result of the delay, some of them will die of illness and advanced age before a genuine redress bill can be enacted. It is not difficult to foresee what would happen if the commission bill were to become law. The 15 appointees would probably be selected from a group suggested by the bill's authors. Most members of the commission would probably reflect their anti-redress bias.

While it is possible that some face-saving "remedial measures" may be recommended by the commission, these would probably be limited to the giving of a few lump-sum grants to Japanese-American organizations, such as the national Japanese American Citizens League with nothing going to the individual former inmates of the camps. Of even greater seriousness is the possible damage to the principles on which this nation was founded. A precedent has been established that seriously weakens Constitutional protection against arbitrary imprisonment and similar violations of human rights. If the government can commit such violations with impunity, that precedent will be reinforced. Let us hope that the Caucasian members of Congress will recognize the commission bill for what it is: a calculated maneuver to avoid confronting a terrible injustice that was done on American soil.

The Lowry bill, on the other hand, reaffirms and strengthens the constitutional protection of human rights. It should be supported by all Americans concerned with preserving human freedom under our form of government. Shosuke Sasaki, a retired securities analyst living in Seattle, was born in Japan in 1912. He became an American citizen in 1954 after living in the United States for 35 years, more than two of which were spent in the Minidoka internment camp in Idaho. (He Won 't Tell that.

So he stayed in and did his homework and read. He didn't tell his friends. Hold it in. And still he was waiting alone on the corner. Forty-five minutes late.

Michael decided to walk the 10 blocks home. He felt that he was old enough now. After all, he took care of his little sister a lot. He took care of his mother a lot. He was responsible.

He always did what people told told him to do. Everyone could count on him for help. Everyone did. And he never complained. Never fought, never argued, never yelled.

The best little boy in the world. Hold it in. When he got nearer to home, Michael's heart felt as if it were going to explode. Her car was there, the house was locked tight. He rang the bell.

He rang and rang as he felt his stomach turn inside out. He climbed through a window. No one seemed to be home. He looked around the house, in all the right hiding places. Finally, in the closet in his own bedroom, he saw his mom in her slip, with a belt around her neck, and attached to the wooden rod.

She was just sitting there, sobbing. She had been drinking. But maybe no one would find out. Michael wouldn't tell anyone, ever. Hold it in.

Peter M. Nardi is a sociologist at Pitzer College, Claremont, who specializes in the problems of alcoholics' children. ffKJL By IRWIN FRANK When it comes to oil, Mobil knows what it's talking about. But when Mobil presumes to speak for the American people, you then have to ask if Mobil with all its drilling rigs really knows what 220 million Americans think. In one recent advertisement that Mobil ran in leading newspapers, the company said one of Three Great Lies as seen by Americans is: "I'm from the government and I'm here to help you." The ad goes on to say that Americans see their government "as a nuisance, a pain, a meddling, nagging, obtrusive, petty, nit-picking, and troublesome pest." It adds that Americans expect "betrayal" from their government.

How does Mobil know that Americans feel that way? On what basis can Mobil say that 220 million Americans feel that their government is a "nuisance" or a "troublesome pest" that lies to them? And how can Mobil say the American people feel betrayed by their government? Does this giant oil company have the capacity to tap the mind of America? Well, it turns out that no survey was conducted to determine the mood of America. Don Tuchman, who heads the editorial services section at Mobil's New York City office, said Mobil did not conduct any surveys but, well, a "good many surveys in recent years" have shown "that government regulations add a burdensome cost to the economy, a nonproductive cost factor. A great many companies are having to devote a large part of the payroll to process government forms and paperwork." There is no question that what Tuchman says about government regulations and paperwork is correct. IB 'Son, while you're defending our oil we re turning the heat down Boy in the World tioner. He wondered if the neighbors could hear, too.

Hold it in. Don't tell anyone. He was still waiting at the corner. She was 15 minutes late. It was so good to go to school and get out of the house.

But when 3 o'clock came he would feel the tension begin to gather inside him. He never knew what to expect. When she was not drinking, she would be smiling, even pretty. When drunk, she'd be cold, withdrawn, tired, unloving, not caring. Michael would cook dinner and straighten up the house.

He would search for the alcohol, like egg-hunting on Easter morning, under the stuffed chair in the bedroom, in the laundry bag concealed among the towels, behind her hats in the closet. When he found it, he'd pour it down the sink drain. Maybe then no one would know that she'd been drinking. Maybe no one would fight. Don't tell a soul.

She still hadn't come to pick him up yet. She'd never been 30 minutes late. Sometimes she'd sleep late in the morning after Dad had already left for work, and Michael would make breakfast for his little sister and himself. Then a friend's mother would take them to school. The biggest problem was during vacation time, especially around the holidays.

He wanted to play with his friends. But he was afraid to bring them home. He was afraid to go out and play, too, because then she would drink. Michael didn't want to be blamed for I.