Back in its heyday, before 9/11 — and before passports, no-smoking and a local casino — Windsor bingo was big business.
On the best nights, charities, which came to rely on the funds for their very survival, might rake in as much as $7,000 to $10,000 a session.
“It was booming,” recalled Gary Norman, a past Grand Knight of the South Windsor Knights of Columbus club that raised money for community work through a few two-hour bingos a month. “It was a lot of fun to work them because you knew you were making money for the charities and the schools.”
During the heady days of jackpots in an industry flush with cash, everyone wanted a piece of the action — the city included.
But did the city want too much? A massive, eight-year-old lawsuit may soon decide just that.
At issue is whether the city and the Town of Tecumseh charged more than what it cost to administer charity bingo licences — in essence creating an illegal tax. They charged three per cent at every bingo session, dating back to 1993.
The suit amounts to an estimated $70 million for Windsor and $7 million for Tecumseh, plus interest for the period the lawsuit covers, meaning it could amount to significantly more.
Local taxes would likely rise to cover that amount, given $80 million is 20 per cent of Windsor’s annual tax levy.
A billboard is shown on University Avenue
West in Windsor, Ont., on Jan. 25, 2016, which is part of the City of Windsor and Town of Tecumseh’s campaign to urge local charities to opt out of a class-action lawsuit involving bingo fees.
As the opt-out period ends for the largest class-action suit ever facing Windsor and Tecumseh at possibly $80-plus million including interest — the deadline is Sunday — stakes remain high. Paying that amount could end up raising local taxes.
Norman wouldn’t say whether the city charged too much, only that every $50 his organization saved was $50 more that went to people in need.
Many branches of the Knights of Columbus, a do-good organization which supports a host of charities — Community Living Windsor, Harmony in Action, school-breakfast programs, etc. — raised money for charity through bingos.
“It was profitable for everybody,” Norman said. “Everybody benefited. The charities benefited and the halls benefited. And we knew we were making money to do good with. And the city made money, too.”
At one point, Norman’s group needed 12 or more volunteers to help run sessions.
Though he’s not involved in bingos these days, he says his group’s take dropped to $500 to $750 a session when things started to slow down after 9/11. Occasionally, on a bad night, they would come out behind, after paying the prize board and the city’s take. Local charities ultimately took the hit.
Back in the heydays, groups signed a report on how much they made that night, but would sometimes take a bag of money home to deposit the next day. The Knights of Columbus always made immediate night deposits with at least two people present.
The money is now vaulted at the bingo halls. And participating charities pool the cash and collect a month-end cheque to ensure nobody loses after a big payout on a slow night. At one time, 14 bingo halls dotted Windsor and Tecumseh. Now, there are just four.
Nobody from the City of Windsor or Town of Tecumseh, or the London-based Lerners law firm which launched the class-action suit in 2008, would comment before the opt-out period ends.
It’s therefore difficult to say exactly how much money Windsor bingos generated at their peak, though here’s a good bet: a lot.
“Ah, the good old days, when 20,000 gambling-starved Americans flocked to sin city every week to play round-the-clock bingo and a river of money ran through the middle of town,” recalled Chris Vander Doelen in a 2011 column about the days he covered gaming full time for the Windsor Star. “The profits were astounding.”
Mary Russell, left, of Roseville, Michigan, and Pat Papciak of St. Clair Shores patiently wait for their lucky numbers at the Classic Bingo hall on Crawford Avenue in this file photo.
In 1992, an industry source estimated to Vander Doelen that Windsor benefited from $25 million a year in jobs and donations to charity, not including what the halls themselves made.
By 1998, he said profits to 14 bingo halls hit $140 million, according to reports to city council.
Prize boards varied, but back then they could go up to $2,500 a session, and sometimes more, for special events. Both Windsor and Tecumseh charged three per cent of the prize board for administrative costs to issue the licences to the charities.
The province also took a piece of the pie: .78 per cent of the overall gross wager. Today, Ontario makes about $2.5 million annually from bingo licence fees. In the 2014-2015 fiscal year, Ontario charities generated approximately $20 million through provincially-licensed bingo.
The province does not, however, track how much various municipalities charge for bingo licensing fees. According to city hall, Windsor issued 283 licences in 2015.
“The maximum amount a municipality can charge as a bingo licensing fee is up to three per cent of the prize board,” Eva Innes, director of communication for the Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario, said in an email. “It’s up to each municipality to decide exactly what licensing fee to charge within that spectrum, if any at all.”
A number of the 855 groups in the class-action suit have already publicly pledged to opt out, such as the University of Windsor.
University spokesman John Coleman sums up the sentiment of many who opt out: “We just looked at what was in the best interest of the city and the university. We have had a long history with the city and hopefully we’ll have a long future, as well.”
Off the record, some charity reps say Windsor and Tecumseh’s multi-media opt-out campaign, which a court ruled went too far, unfairly suggests their organizations want money that’s not theirs. They think it’s the other way around.
Tony Rosa, owner of Community Gaming Entertainment Corp., is pictured in this 2011 file photo.
Only the plaintiffs’ law firm, Lerners, knows who has opted out, though a number of groups have publicly said they will: Windsor Regional Hospital, the Art Gallery of Windsor, the Windsor Symphony Orchestra, the Windsor Minor Hockey Association, Brentwood, and the Windsor-Essex Catholic District School Board.
Connie Buckler, chair of the Greater Essex County District School Board, however, said members could not reach a consensus on an agonizing decision. So the board will not opt out as a group.
“We spent many meetings discussing this,” said Buckler, noting that the board values its relationship with Windsor and Tecumseh but did not want to force a decision on all schools. “It was very difficult. In different municipalities it means different things, whether they believe they were overcharged or not.
“We requested that each bingo licensee look into this scenario and make a decision.”
Buckler said after extensive legal and other reviews, officials could not determine how much money the bingo suit might mean for the board.
“We have no idea,” she said. “We have spent a lot of time doing research into this whole ordeal and did not find the information we were seeking.”
Opting out could all prove academic, anyway, since the plaintiffs might still argue that nobody should be allowed to opt out.
Peter Kryworuk, the lawyer who helped launch the lawsuit, has noted in the past that Superior Court Justice Terrence Patterson — presiding over most of the case — ruled that those who opt out will have a chance to opt back in.
Tony Rosa, president of Community Gaming and Entertainment Group which owns the bingo halls, was unavailable for comment.
But at a 6 p.m. session this week at Breakaway Gaming Centre, a small crowd working daubers showed that bingo still lives, and in a much improved environment. The smoky, dirty bingo halls are gone. The surprisingly quiet Breakaway — the caller would almost serenely announce, “N43” — is awash in earth tones and casino-friendly carpet. The facility also offers new stuff: slots, a bar and computers, where players can chase bingo without having to daub.
Chuck and Karen Elliott remember the glory days of bingo in Windsor May 11, 2016. The Elliotts were visiting Breakaway Gaming Centre on Crawford Avenue.
You can still play paper, if you’d like, as many people did, with multiple sheets and quick-paced daub-daub-daubing. Best to know such terms as G-Ball, Inside Square and Progressive.
Chuck and Karen Elliott, who started volunteering for bingos in 1985 on behalf of the Windsor Skating Club and wielded daubers themselves two or three times a week, see the transformation.
“It was busy back then, that’s for sure,” Chuck recalled. “It got to the point where if someone put their coat or purse on a chair beside them, they would be told that people are coming in. Every seat was needed.”
Some halls would regularly fill with 300 and 400 people, a few die-hards playing as much as $200 per two-hour session. Some bingos went around the clock.
“Today, they’re trying harder to get people to come to the bingo,” said Chuck, who only plays once a week these days. “There are more free things, like half price on the cards, two-for-ones, free breakfasts. They’re trying to get people to come back. That’s how hard things are today.
“But a couple can still take $100 for a couple of sessions and have an evening of entertainment.”
