Dotty’s seems to be ‘grandmothered in,’ able to ignore the rules

My grandmothers, Catherine and Emma, were a hoot.

Each had a keen sense of humor. Catherine was a reader and a card player who could sense a sucker at 100 yards. Emma was a prankster fond of her crafts and knickknacks.

Both loved their cocktails. Catherine smoked Salems and drank screwdrivers. Emma was fond of high balls and afternoon Lawrence Welk music.

If they were alive today, I'm sure they would team up to create their own "tavern" as it's defined by the enterprising folks at Dotty's.

Video poker, booze and knickknacks in a well-lighted location that's convenient for locals who don't consider themselves bar patrons: That's Dotty's stock in trade.

Is it a tavern? Get serious.

It's a slot parlor on Prozac, and I wish I'd thought of it first.

If you're a grandma with a gambling Jones or a harried mom who hates hanging out at a sports bar at the crack of noon, Dotty's is for you. A lot of you.

So many of you, in fact, Dotty's is drawing the considerable scorn of the Nevada Resort Association and gambling heavyweights such as Station Casinos and Boyd Gaming. Their representatives not only want the Dotty's phenomenon halted; don't be surprised if they argue to repeal slots in stores.

In the murky middle are local tavern operators, the folks who have spent millions to comply with guidelines that allow them to lease 15 slot machines in exchange for the promise of providing food and drink that, at least in theory, makes the gaming "incidental" to the bottom line. Those tavern owners are getting slapped by the smoking ban and slugged by the recession. The Dotty's proliferation is a swift kick in the slots.

From a perception-as-reality standpoint, the casino bosses can't make the best political argument. Compared to Dotty's, Station and Boyd are 8,000-pound gorillas.

But it's also wrong to portray Dotty's as a beleaguered David up against Gaming Inc. Goliaths. Those Goliaths are rich as kings, but also employ thousands of Southern Nevadans. Dotty's banks millions without investing in workers and infrastructure. Downtown casinos would like to have Dotty's net profits and low overhead.

It's savvy business, but it's a step backward in the admittedly inconsistent evolution of the industry.

Although they're obviously being bled by Dotty's, it's not the casino behemoths I'm worried about. It's the local tavern operators who weigh whether to cut out their food service and terminate hundreds of cooks and waitresses who have my ear. They shouldn't be legislated out of existence by slick gaming attorneys, or suffer a death of a thousand cuts from Dotty's.

If the Dotty's model is acceptable, let it ride and bring back smoking in every tavern and slots in every nook and cranny of the community. Let intrepid entrepreneurs go door to door with a single machine to cater personally to players.

Forget a few slots for convenience stores. Give them 15, or 50. Who needs milk, bread and eggs?

Let casino companies build enormous seas of slots without forcing them to build hotels.

While it's obvious some tavern owners violate the spirit of the law, Dotty's makes no pretenses. It's the same winning, controversial model Dotty's used so successfully in Oregon before owner R. Craig Estey was bounced from the state in 2006 after being caught lying to Nevada gaming regulators about a domestic violence incident. He paid a fine in Nevada but was allowed to keep his privileged gaming licenses.

A hearing in the Dotty's dustup is scheduled for April 5 before the Clark County Commission, but expect this to reach the state level and the courts.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking of starting my own slot dive disguised as a tavern called "Catherine and Emma's Place."

I can almost hear the Lawrence Welk music now.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith.