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This Valley casino’s in no rush to open. Here’s what’s different from other tribal casinos

One of the first tribal casinos to close in the central San Joaquin Valley back in March because of the coronavirus pandemic will also be the last one to reopen.

Eagle Mountain Casino, located in the Sierra Nevada foothills of Tulare County east of Porterville, closed its doors at 4 a.m. on March 18, after having already canceled a couple of entertainment performances that were planned for March and April. What was initially planned as a two-week closure, however, has stretched to more than three months.

Other tribal casinos in the region – Tachi Palace in Lemoore, Chukchansi Gold in Coarsegold, Mono Wind in Auberry and Table Mountain in Friant – reopened earlier this month. But Matthew Mingrone, general manager at Eagle Mountain, said the Tule River tribe that operates the casino has more reason to be concerned than some of the other tribal councils.

“We’re not right off a highway or on the outskirts of the reservation,” Mingrone told The Bee in a recent telephone interview. “Our casino is smack in the middle of the reservation. “

That means when visitors come to the casino, it represents a considerable potential for exposure to the virus from outside the community directly into the midst of the reservation’s residents. “So our tribal council decided to shut down the reservation itself” and not just the casino, Mingrone said. “Unless you’re a resident of the reservation, you’re not allowed on the reservation, and there’s been a shelter-in-place for the residents of the reservation.”

The tribe has what Mingrone called a large population of more than 200 elders, whose average age is above the age of 70 – an age group considered at higher risk for complications from the coronavirus. “This decision was done to protect that very important aspect of the tribal population,” he said. “The first response is to protect folks from ‘who knows who’ is coming to the casino.”

The Tule River tribe has its own public health authority that includes doctors and staff from the reservation’s health clinic, who with the tribal council declared a state of emergency on March 16, in the early stages of the pandemic’s effects in the Valley.

The initial closure was supposed to be through April 3, but that’s been extended several times. “It is in flux; obviously it’s a pretty fluid situation,” Mingrone said. The most recent expectation is for the casino to reopen July 1. But that could still change – to either earlier or later, depending on circumstances.

“The (tribe’s) health authority and the tribal council have the difficult job of weighing out the context of protecting the tribal cities, workers and our guests,” Mingrone said, adding that Tulare County “is kind of infamous” because of the high number of cases and deaths reported in the county since mid-March.

Through early June, the strategy appeared to be working. Mingrone said there had been no cases of coronavirus reported among tribal members. The same is true for 500 casino staff – about 12% of whom are tribal members.

The closure has not come without hardship. The casino kept its employees on the payroll “through most of April” before furloughs and layoffs affected the entire staff, Mingrone said.

But by early June, “we hired everyone back in preparation to get things done” to prepare for the eventual reopening, he added. “There’s a lot do do, a lot of training that needs to be done to be ready for the new world that we live in.”

When Eagle Mountain does reopen, it – like other tribal casinos in the region – will be operating under significantly different protocols than before the pandemic struck.

“We will only allow 50% of capacity at any one time,” Mingrone said. “When someone leaves, we’ll let the next person come in.” Instead of being open around the clock, the casino will be closed for eight hours every day to undergo a thorough cleaning, including disinfection with fogging machines.

Casino guests will be required to wear face masks, have their temperature checked and answer basic screening questions to enter the building. About half of the slot machines will be turned off to ensure physical distancing between guests, and staff will clean each machine after a player leaves.

For table games like blackjack or poker, only three players will be allowed at a table instead of six, and dealers will be wearing face shields and masks. Some dealers may also wear gloves. Guests won’t be touching the cards, and card decks will be switched out and chips cleaned more frequently.

In the dining areas, there will no longer be a buffet; that area will be used as overflow seating for the food court. Food will be served in to-go containers and bags for customers to take to their table, and self-serve drink fountains will instead be staffed by an attendant.

Pandemic’s financial effects

The casino’s employees aren’t the only ones under a financial strain from the closure. The tribe does not disclose how much revenue the casino typically generates, nor how that revenue is distributed among members of the tribe. But the casino “is the major revenue deliverer to the tribe,” Mingrone said. “That’s what made the closure even more difficult.”

Other tribes in the region also felt financial repercussions from the closures of their casinos, but none would disclose the extent of the disruption.

“The entire economy has been impacted by COVID-19,and we are no exception,” said Rojelio Morales, director of marketing for Tachi Palace Resort Casino in Lemoore, which employs about 1,400 people. “We are like all other businesses and anticipate that we will need to monitor budgets for the remainder of the year.”

Morales indicated that Tachi Palace, which reopened May 28, was reactivating its employees in phases as the casino resumed operations and other enterprises over the next couple of months.

Many tribes rely on income from their casinos to support health care, education, law enforcement and fire protection programs on their reservations. The same economic burden felt by local tribes has been felt across the country, but specifics are hard to pin down.

The Associated Press reported that about 500 Native American casinos have voluntarily closed during the pandemic, often taking away tribes’ main source of income in an effort to protect people’s health in communities with limited medical resources.

While corporations or billionaires own casinos in places like Las Vegas, tribes are sovereign nations that operate them under the federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act of 1988. The law was intended to help impoverished tribes build a sustainable economy.

It’s difficult to find accurate numbers for casinos’ revenues – and the programs they support – because tribes generally don’t give that information.

The Associated Press reported last month that a team of Harvard University researchers released preliminary results of a study on the pandemic’s impact on the 574 federally recognized tribes. The report said tribes initially closed all their casinos, spanning 29 states, and many non-gambling businesses.

“In the wake of these closures, tribes are facing massive layoffs … dipping into hard‐earned assets and building up debt,″ the researchers wrote.

It’s also uncertain when revenues from casino action might bounce back, especially if the public is wary about returning to the venues.

“I don’t know that you ever make up lost revenue, and I think the concern is that ‘How is business impacted for the foreseeable future?’” Jeff Hamilton, casino president for the Mohegan tribe in Connecticut, told the Associated Press. “Because you put an open sign up, doesn’t mean that everything is back to normal.”

Mingrone, Eagle Mountain’s general manager, said it’s hard to tell whether there might be pent-up demand for gaming after more than three months of closure, or if potential players will be uneasy. “For us to get back to 100% is probably at least several months away,” he said.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

This story was originally published June 18, 2020 at 11:10 AM.

Tim Sheehan
The Fresno Bee
Lifelong Valley resident Tim Sheehan has worked as a reporter and editor in the region since 1986, and has been with The Fresno Bee since 1998. He is currently The Bee’s data reporter and also covers California’s high-speed rail project and other transportation issues. He grew up in Madera, has a journalism degree from Fresno State and a master’s degree in leadership studies from Fresno Pacific University. Support my work with a digital subscription
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