Just how much does the public have the right to know, and when should citizens learn about them? The federal “Freedom of Information Act” allows public scrutiny of certain documents. It has provided insight and oversight to many political groups and government agencies.

Occasionally the issues focus on people, not policy. Should the public be informed just who is operating sensitive businesses within their jurisdiction? While I believe that some corporate operating strategies, like marketing plans or production formulas, should remain private, knowing who owns and/or runs those companies that are publicly traded or regulated by governmental oversight is fair game.

Following intense citizen pressure in August, my home state of Pennsylvania reluctantly just released the names of those individuals, companies and partnerships that form the 22 casino distributor applicant companies.

Crime and gaming has always been linked in the public’s eye. However, criminal activity can be defined in a few ways - financial and personal. Both concerns have merit, but should be approached realistically.

Governments aim to prevent corruption and accountability crime… in other words, they do not want organized crime to coordinate money transfers, money laundering, tax evasion or bribery. Citizen opposition is fueled by fears that gaming will increase personal crimes like robbery, assault and murder in their communities.

When New Jersey legalized Atlantic City gaming in 1976, officials were obsessed with portraying themselves as law enforcement advocates. Security forces used retired FBI and New Jersey State Police personnel to show they were combating organized crime.

Two of the earliest casinos, Bally’s and Caesars, faced ultimatums from the Casino Control Commission (CCC). If their chief executives remained involved, the properties would not open. Chairman Bill O’Donnell, of Bally Manufacturing Corp., and brothers Clifford and Stuart Perelman, chairman and vice-chairman of Caesars World, Inc. were forced from their positions. All faced accusations of questionable alliances.

One problem was communication… New Jersey did not synchronize their efforts enough with Nevada, then America’s only gaming jurisdiction. Obviously, Bally’s and Caesars were household names then, and have remained that way since. People asked the question, “How could their key executives be a-ok in a huge gaming environment like Nevada, but not New Jersey, where it would be limited to a barrier island like Atlantic City?”

Fortunately, things have changed. Technology has helped multiple jurisdictions throughout the U.S. share information to determine who is truly objectionable. Also, the rules have eased, and people are no longer tossed out without a chance to “clean up their act” and redeem themselves.

One prominent New Jersey case is former and current Atlantic City casino executive Gary DiBartolomeo. DiBart - as his friends call him - rose from a dealer at Caesars in the late 1970s to assume the presidency of Caesar’s Atlantic City in 2000.

However, he also developed an expensive gambling habit during those 22 years. In 2001, he lost his “key employee” executive license for a period of five years. DiBartolomeo’s punishment was for lying to his employers and gaming regulators about his problem -not the gambling itself - after prior hearings had given him another chance.

Five years later, Gary is back on the job. Pending completion of a background investigation by the state Division of Gaming Enforcement, New Jersey gambling regulators granted him a temporary key employee license last June. That cleared him to work as a vice president of national marketing for Resorts Atlantic City and the Atlantic City Hilton. The CCC voted unanimously - five to zero - to reinstate the license.

Should people get second chances if they have actually committed a crime or misdemeanor? It depends on the circumstances. DiBartelomeo broke the public’s trust and caused damage to his own family and reputation but, with time and treatment, he has begun a new chapter.

Back in Pennsylvania, gambling opponents are currently objecting to one new licensee. One of its principals is former Pittsburgh Councilman Sala Udin, who held office from 1995 to 2005. Now in his 60s, Udin also has a criminal record for robbery and weapons offenses from 1968 to 1970. Udin is seeking an official state pardon. However, since Pennsylvania’s gaming law only looks back 15 years, he was eligible for a license.

Should people get a second chance? Thirty-six years is a long time, but what is forgivable and what is not? Do any of us want to be judged on our actions from our 20s?

While some people may get the opportunity to start over, others may not fare as well. However, for something as tempting and historically controversial as gaming, I think it is better to have sensible full disclosure than to maintain any secrecy.

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