Giving Us Paws

Critics say animal racing is wicked in two ways.

There are two kinds of critics of the business of betting on animals. The first are animal rights activists, such as Carey Theil of the anti-greyhound racing group Grey2K USA, who say the racing industry treats animals inhumanely: overbreeding greyhounds, for instance, keeping them trapped in cages for most of their racing lives, drugging them to go faster (or, sometimes, slower), and dumping them, sometimes in mass graves, when their racing days are done.

Horse racing critics find the sport of kings equally immoral. The persistently high rate of overbreeding, doping, racing-related deaths, and other abuses prompted Congress to pass the Horseracing Integrity and Safety Act of 2020.

That law didn’t change much, as evidenced by the deaths of seven horses in the days leading up to the most celebrated horse race in the nation: the May 7 Kentucky Derby, held at Churchill Downs in Louisville. Churchill Downs is a killing field,” People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals said in a statement after the seventh death. “They should play taps at the derby instead of ‘My Old Kentucky Home.’”

Investigations by advocacy groups such as PETA and years of reporting by The New York Times have shown unscrupulous horse trainers employ more chemicals than meth cooks, often leading to injury and death as drugged animals exceed their natural capacity for exertion.

Animal racing in Oregon has long generated strong opposition from powerful opponents such as former Senate President Peter Courtney (D-Salem), who introduced a bill in 2021 that would have banned horse racing entirely in Oregon (the bill failed).

In 2022, Courtney and state Rep. David Gomberg (D-Otis) co-sponsored Senate Bill 1504, which curtailed betting on dogs. “I think Oregonians would be disgusted by the abuse these dogs experience,” Courtney told his colleagues then. “Oregon should not be promoting or engaging in this abuse at any level.” attendance, closed.

Courtney tells WW that if it were up to him, Oregon would outlaw all forms of animal racing and would play no role in betting on either sport. He regrets leaving that work undone. “I wish I could have stuck around to end horse racing in Oregon,” he says.

The second kind of critics are anti-gambling activists, who say Oregon looks at only the revenue side of gambling, while ignoring the legal, financial and social costs of problem gambling.

Kitty Martz, executive director of Voices of Problem Gambling Recovery, says Oregon would be better off if it tightened regulations instead of chasing every possible gambling dollar.

Martz has long faulted the state for ignoring the cost of gambling addiction, even as the Oregon Lottery grows by leaps and bounds and betting on animals explodes.

“Gambling in Oregon is this nonregulated sprawl,” she says, “and it’s become a race to the bottom.” NIGEL JAQUISS.

“The Multnomah track was the jewel in the crown of American greyhound racing,” Theil says. “I think its closure was particularly demoralizing for the industry.”

But like a gardener who chops back a blackberry bush only to discover a vast underground root system, Theil watched with dismay as ADW betting exploded. Greyhound racing is all but extinct in the U.S., but still thrives overseas—thanks in part to Oregon.

Theil and other critics would like Oregon to get out of the business of betting on animals. Even though Oregon has a near monopoly in horse and dog betting, it takes in less than $4 million a year in revenue, while facilitating more than $6.4 billion in bets.

Three-quarters of revenues go to sponsor horse racing at rural county fairs around the state—in Tillamook, Crook and Union counties. And a little goes to Grants Pass Downs, the state’s one remaining commercial horse track. The balance, less than $1 million a year, goes to the state general fund.

Part of why the business is such a dud: a decision long ago to cap the taxes the Racing Commission collects from gambling companies. Oregon charges the companies a licensing fee of $73,000 plus a percentage of the total amount bet (0.125% for the first $60 million, then 0.25% up to a cap of about $800,000 in total payments).

Williamson, the Racing Commission chair, says the decision to cap taxes predated his joining the panel in 2008. In 2016, the commission reduced the annual rate at which the caps can increase from 7.5% to 2.5%. “We were trying to incentivize companies to stay,” Williamson says.

You Bet: The annual amount wagered through Oregon ADW hubs exploded during the pandemic.

Source: Oregon Racing Commission

ADW betting business, booked through TwinSpires’ Oregon office, grew more than 40% during the pandemic and generated pretax profits last year of $115 million. (Representatives of the company did not respond to requests for comment.)

Theil, the greyhound protection advocate, says it adds insult to injury that Oregon is abetting the mistreatment of animals and gambling addiction for almost no benefit: “The fact that the state is receiving virtually no revenue from [ADW] is outrageous.”

The person watching over these deals? Connie “Pepper” Winn, executive director of the Oregon Racing Commission.

A former U.S. Army recruiter who worked in banking and for-profit education, Winn, 60, came to the Racing Commission in 2014 and first took the job of “director of mutuels,” a post that took her all over the country and as far afield as Sri Lanka to visit and audit the companies booking bets through Oregon (the gambling companies reimbursed her travel costs).

When she applied for the agency’s top job last year, she noted an affinity for its work. “As a youth, I was an equestrian and bought my first horse, who was a retired racehorse,” Winn wrote in her cover letter. “He was a direct decedent [sic] of Man o’ War—one of my all time favorites.”

But ADW betting volumes skyrocketed during the pandemic (see chart, upper right), making the cap on taxes a total giveaway to big gambling interests.

Without the cap, the Racing Commission would have taken in nearly $16 million in taxes last year, instead of less than $4 million.

It’s a puzzling scheme, like telling Warren Buffett and Elon Musk they must pay tax on the first few million dollars of their income, but everything above that is tax free.

The system is working well for out-of-state gambling companies, such as Kentucky-based TwinSpires, which is owned and operated by publicly traded Churchill Downs Inc. Best known for running the Kentucky Derby, Churchill Downs also operates racetracks and casinos in 11 states.

A March investor presentation shows that its

Theil says Winn regards her job as doing the industry’s bidding. “Connie Winn is a quintessential example of what it looks like for a regulator to be captured by the industry she’s supposed to be regulating,” he says.

Winn disagrees with that characterization. She says she and her agency have diligently audited the gambling providers and always look out for the public’s interest.

“I work for the citizens of Oregon,” Winn says. In emails and legislative testimony this year and last, both her predecessor, Jack McGrail, and Winn have repeatedly warned that any attempt to change the terms of ADW betting companies’ current arrangement would send them fleeing to other states.

“They ’ll leave,” Winn told lawmakers earlier this session.

CONTINUED ON PAGE 18