SugarHouse breaks ground over protesters' chants

With protest chants often drowning out the applause of supporters, the lead investor behind the SugarHouse Casino yesterday called the project a "great addition to the city" before joining other investors and Mayor Nutter to break ground on the $310 million waterfront gambling hall.

Chicago developer Neil Bluhm said the last three years had been "a long road" for the controversial slots parlor on North Delaware Avenue in Fishtown andNorthern Liberties.

"We'll have some fun. We'll create some jobs and we'll help beautify part of Delaware Avenue," Bluhm told about 300 community, political, and financial supporters seated under a party tent.

Bluhm said the casino would be built in 10 months, and would create 500 full-time jobs and 500 construction jobs.

Nutter, who opposed the project when he took office in 2008 but who came to support it in March, said the road to the groundbreaking "wasn't always easy."

But, he added, "we ended up in the right place."

He acknowledged that he had "serious and significant differences of opinion" about the project when he became mayor. But he said SugarHouse modified its design, and addressed concerns about traffic and parking.

"There comes a point when you just have to move forward," Nutter said.

Gregory C. Fajt, chairman of the Pennsylvania Gaming Control Board, said the gaming industry had brought Philadelphia $112 million in wage-tax relief, and contributed $22 million in economic-development funding for the expansion of the Convention Center.

Yesterday's conflicting scenes of celebration and anger encapsulated the emotions that have surrounded the advent of casinos.

The SugarHouse project is one of two developments the state licensed for slots in 2006. The other is the Foxwoods Casino, planned for Columbus Boulevard in South Philadelphia.

As the invitation-only crowd heard remarks from casino partners and politicians before toasting the project with wine, about 100 protesters demonstrated from outside a chain-link fence around the property's perimeter.

Anticasino activists hired a small plane to fly over the site, pulling a banner that read "Crime, Poverty, Addiction . . . Jackpot."

About 40 police officers guarded the entrance to the SugarHouse construction site, which had been cleared and leveled in recent months.

Jethro Heiko, a founder of Casino-Free Philadelphia, commented on the heavy police presence and said, "This is not the image you want at a groundbreaking."

He added, "There are no open arms here."

Bluhm called the protesters "a small minority. . . . They can express their views, but the vast majority is in favor of this project."

During the ceremony, SugarHouse representatives presented a check for $175,000 to community leaders who supported the project and worked with the company to create a special services district that will be funded by casino money.

Richard Levins, a newly appointed director of the Penn Treaty Special Services District, said the group would begin to solicit requests for funding from neighborhood groups.

As protesters shouted "Traitor," City Councilman Frank DiCicco, another critic turned supporter of SugarHouse, said he had been "standing in the way of the project for far too long."

"It's time to roll up our sleeves and get on with it," DiCicco said. "Let's get on with this project."