SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
Nothing could stop Alan Y. from gambling.
Not the pleas of his ex-wife and two sons. Not his increasingly desperate financial situation.
Part 1: As legalized gambling has grown in Washington, so has the number of problem gamblers and their effects on society.
- Odds in house's favor
- Addiction nearly tore family apart
Part 2: At casinos and card rooms in Washington, a large proportion of those trying their luck are Asian. And the industry knows that well.
- 'Gambling just took over my life'
Part 3 (coming Wednesday): What the state and gambling industry are -- or aren't -- doing to address problem gambling.
Not even the U.S. Army, which court-martialed him in 1999.
Alan, who asked that his last name not be used, is a Seattle native who attended the University of Washington. He served in the Army for 27 years.
His descent into problem gambling was dramatic and severe, and his struggle is far from over.
It began in 1996, when he went with friends to a riverboat casino in Lake Charles, La., on a bus the casino had sent to San Antonio. The gambling clearly filled a deep need, and he soon began making solo trips to the casino -- a 400-mile drive one way that he often took at 90 mph.
In 1997, Alan was assigned to Fort Lewis near Tacoma. Casinos dotting Interstate 5 were now just 30 minutes away.
"I was there almost every chance I got," said Alan, 53. "Gambling just took over my life."
He was thrilled to be posted to a base so close to his home, where friends remained and his children lived. But during his long gambling bender, "Gosh, I made excuses not to go see them."
According to Alan, who is Japanese American, both his father and brother are also compulsive gamblers. He said he met his father for the first time in California when he was 18. He took his son to the racetrack every day, Alan said.
"I think it's cultural," Alan said of gambling. "It's accepted within our communities."
He said he has noted the high incidence of Asians in local casinos -- and the way the casinos market specifically to them. Alan said he believed that they "hire Asians knowing it would attract more Asians."
The marketing worked on him, he said.
"I have to kind of laugh," he said. "I gravitated toward the Emerald Queen," he said, in part because of the Asian entertainers they regularly brought in and the strong Asian feel of the Tacoma casino.
He also said he saw new Asian immigrants zealously gambling, and usually losing.
"They're spending all their money. I know they are," he said. "They don't even have to speak English. You can see it on their faces."
Alan, who is now a social worker, said he gambles for the incredible adrenaline rush it provides.
"I got super high when I would go in. I just couldn't be beat. ... I knew I could beat the game," he said.
Occasionally he did, like the time he won $8,000 in about four hours during a blackjack session at the Emerald Queen.
Twelve hours later, he'd lost it all.
In 1998, Alan filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy protection. That allowed him, he said, to continue to gamble, heavier than ever.
He began writing bad checks, including some between his own accounts, which caught the attention of federal authorities.
Through deception, the logistics supply officer obtained a government Visa card and began taking large cash advances on the card from casino cages, including at the Drift On Inn, a Shoreline card room.
Over the next two months, he said, he took $10,000 worth of those advances at "the Drift," at $500 a pop.
During that time, he left the base and told his superiors he wasn't coming back. But one officer traced a call to his mother's house in Seattle, where he was staying. He was ordered to report to Madigan Army Medical Center for evaluation.
In January 1999, a finance clerk noticed the $10,000-plus debt on his unauthorized government credit card.
The Army moved to court-martial Alan and confined him to base. But he went AWOL again, flying to Las Vegas for a last stand. He ran out of money, cashed in his return-trip plane ticket, and then lost that cash, too. He walked aimlessly through the neon-lit streets until his ex-wife wired him enough money to buy a ticket back to the base.
He pleaded guilty to multiple charges of improperly using the credit card and to going AWOL, which could have netted him 55 years in prison. But he found a sympathetic judge who gave him a dishonorable discharge instead of any jail time.
Since his court-martial, Alan said, he has been in treatment and has attended Gamblers Anonymous meetings, although not regularly because of a demanding work schedule. He said that he and his girlfriend, whom he met in a G.A. meeting, plan to soon start going again regularly.
"The urge is diminishing, and I really believe I'm turning around," he said.
But he hasn't completely stopped. He said he most recently gambled in December.
At his longest recent stretch, Alan said, he stopped gambling for a year, between December 2001 and November 2002.
The urge to gamble likely will never completely go away, he said.
"What's scary is that I know it could grab me at any minute. Once a compulsive gambler, it's too easy to get sucked back into it."LINK
Nothing could stop Alan Y. from gambling.
Not the pleas of his ex-wife and two sons. Not his increasingly desperate financial situation.
Part 1: As legalized gambling has grown in Washington, so has the number of problem gamblers and their effects on society.
- Odds in house's favor
- Addiction nearly tore family apart
Part 2: At casinos and card rooms in Washington, a large proportion of those trying their luck are Asian. And the industry knows that well.
- 'Gambling just took over my life'
Part 3 (coming Wednesday): What the state and gambling industry are -- or aren't -- doing to address problem gambling.
Not even the U.S. Army, which court-martialed him in 1999.
Alan, who asked that his last name not be used, is a Seattle native who attended the University of Washington. He served in the Army for 27 years.
His descent into problem gambling was dramatic and severe, and his struggle is far from over.
It began in 1996, when he went with friends to a riverboat casino in Lake Charles, La., on a bus the casino had sent to San Antonio. The gambling clearly filled a deep need, and he soon began making solo trips to the casino -- a 400-mile drive one way that he often took at 90 mph.
In 1997, Alan was assigned to Fort Lewis near Tacoma. Casinos dotting Interstate 5 were now just 30 minutes away.
"I was there almost every chance I got," said Alan, 53. "Gambling just took over my life."
He was thrilled to be posted to a base so close to his home, where friends remained and his children lived. But during his long gambling bender, "Gosh, I made excuses not to go see them."
According to Alan, who is Japanese American, both his father and brother are also compulsive gamblers. He said he met his father for the first time in California when he was 18. He took his son to the racetrack every day, Alan said.
"I think it's cultural," Alan said of gambling. "It's accepted within our communities."
He said he has noted the high incidence of Asians in local casinos -- and the way the casinos market specifically to them. Alan said he believed that they "hire Asians knowing it would attract more Asians."
The marketing worked on him, he said.
"I have to kind of laugh," he said. "I gravitated toward the Emerald Queen," he said, in part because of the Asian entertainers they regularly brought in and the strong Asian feel of the Tacoma casino.
He also said he saw new Asian immigrants zealously gambling, and usually losing.
"They're spending all their money. I know they are," he said. "They don't even have to speak English. You can see it on their faces."
Alan, who is now a social worker, said he gambles for the incredible adrenaline rush it provides.
"I got super high when I would go in. I just couldn't be beat. ... I knew I could beat the game," he said.
Occasionally he did, like the time he won $8,000 in about four hours during a blackjack session at the Emerald Queen.
Twelve hours later, he'd lost it all.
In 1998, Alan filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy protection. That allowed him, he said, to continue to gamble, heavier than ever.
He began writing bad checks, including some between his own accounts, which caught the attention of federal authorities.
Through deception, the logistics supply officer obtained a government Visa card and began taking large cash advances on the card from casino cages, including at the Drift On Inn, a Shoreline card room.
Over the next two months, he said, he took $10,000 worth of those advances at "the Drift," at $500 a pop.
During that time, he left the base and told his superiors he wasn't coming back. But one officer traced a call to his mother's house in Seattle, where he was staying. He was ordered to report to Madigan Army Medical Center for evaluation.
In January 1999, a finance clerk noticed the $10,000-plus debt on his unauthorized government credit card.
The Army moved to court-martial Alan and confined him to base. But he went AWOL again, flying to Las Vegas for a last stand. He ran out of money, cashed in his return-trip plane ticket, and then lost that cash, too. He walked aimlessly through the neon-lit streets until his ex-wife wired him enough money to buy a ticket back to the base.
He pleaded guilty to multiple charges of improperly using the credit card and to going AWOL, which could have netted him 55 years in prison. But he found a sympathetic judge who gave him a dishonorable discharge instead of any jail time.
Since his court-martial, Alan said, he has been in treatment and has attended Gamblers Anonymous meetings, although not regularly because of a demanding work schedule. He said that he and his girlfriend, whom he met in a G.A. meeting, plan to soon start going again regularly.
"The urge is diminishing, and I really believe I'm turning around," he said.
But he hasn't completely stopped. He said he most recently gambled in December.
At his longest recent stretch, Alan said, he stopped gambling for a year, between December 2001 and November 2002.
The urge to gamble likely will never completely go away, he said.
"What's scary is that I know it could grab me at any minute. Once a compulsive gambler, it's too easy to get sucked back into it."LINK
