The scramble for three downstate casino licenses in New York has revealed a truth that Wall Street spreadsheets rarely capture: not every billion-dollar bid can buy community trust or political power.
Consider Bally’s Corp. The operator is juggling massive investments, from a $1.7 billion resort in Chicago to plans for redeveloping the Tropicana Las Vegas site around a $2 billion baseball stadium for the Oakland A’s. In New York, Bally’s has put forward a bold $4 billion vision for the Bronx. On paper, the project looks impressive: a 500,000-square-foot resort, a 500-room hotel, an events center, and convention space. Yet despite the financial muscle, Bally’s has struggled to gain traction. A zoning rejection by the City Council nearly killed the plan before Mayor Eric Adams revived it with a controversial veto. The episode underscored how political alliances, not financial models, keep projects alive in New York.
The same pattern has played out elsewhere. Caesars Entertainment partnered with SL Green Realty and Jay-Z’s Roc Nation for a $5.4 billion Times Square proposal. It promised cultural synergy and glitzy economic benefits. But community boards and Broadway stakeholders balked, fearing damage to the theatre district. In mid-September, the Community Advisory Committee flatly rejected the plan. Billion-dollar branding couldn’t overcome grassroots resistance.
Meanwhile, the frontrunners — MGM’s Empire City in Yonkers and Resorts World at Aqueduct in Queens — aren’t necessarily the flashiest bids, but they come with something money can’t buy overnight: long-standing political relationships, existing infrastructure, and established tax contributions. Both projects already employ thousands and have local officials touting the community benefits packages attached to their expansions. MGM’s Yonkers deal, for example, includes a $100 million package earmarked for libraries, parks, and infrastructure. That kind of embedded political capital dwarfs glossy renderings.
The lesson is stark: New York’s casino race is not a free-market contest where the deepest pockets automatically prevail. It is a political chess match in which influence, credibility, and local support weigh more than financial projections. Bally’s may be at the plate swinging for the Bronx, but without the right political coalition, it risks striking out.
In the end, the city’s licensing process is a reminder that casinos are not just business ventures. They are political projects, deeply tied to land use, community identity, and the power dynamics of City Hall. And in New York, it is politics — not money — that decides who wins the game.
