When Off Track Betting Locations Close, All Those Guys Are Going to Be Homeless

The institutional gray paint, hard-back chairs and lines at teller windows at 105 Delancy Street suggest a clerk of courts office or the local DMV.  The crumpled white slips of paper, flat screen televisions and the man shouting at one screen clarify. This is one of over 70 off-track betting locations in the city, run by the state-sanctioned [New York City Off-Track Betting Corporation].

Last Tuesday, Mayor Bloomberg announced that OTB will close in June, when it will [start losing money]. When OTB closes its doors, the men here—mostly older, many retired, a few smelling faintly of alcohol—will lose their daily routine.   Sitting and standing against the wall near the entrance, was a group of men managing a conversation as they waited for their horses to pull ahead.  "My personal opinion is that they're not going to close it.  I think Bloomberg is playing chicken," said a man who would only give his first name, Tommy.

Despite taking in over $1 billion in bets last fiscal year, the corporation will begin losing money in June because of the amount state law requires to be sent to Albany.  Bloomberg said the city will not subsidize a gambling operation intended to be a source of revenue. Chicken or not.

"Most people live in here," Tommy said.  His friend Joey, also no last name, comes in seven days a week.  "I'm broke from paying all these horses," Joey said, despite having a $60,000 pension from the Transit Authority.

The storefront, which houses just one open room, hardly has [gritty charm] of old New York that exists in some of OTB’s more upscale restaurants and bars.  Most of the men – there are only a handful of women – are in their mid-fifties and older, their lined faces and rough hands aging them more. The place smells like cigarette smoke, despite the no-smoking signs posted in both English and Mandarin Chinese.

But there is a community in the dank storefront.  Joey watches the television for a few minutes, then asks if anyone wants some tea.  He struggles to stand up, putting his weight on his cane, but someone else asks him what he wants and then leaves for a few minutes, returning with his order.

When it closes, people can still go to the track to bet, but the bus ride out of their neighborhood does not appeal to many. “At my age, I don’t want to be running around,” Joey said.  “What else are we supposed to do?” 

“I might go once in a while because there will be nothing else to do,” Harry Hirschkowitz, a longtime neighborhood resident said.  Hirshkowitz was a host at Ratner’s for 25 years, a restaurant that was once across the street.  It closed in 2004, replaced by a Sleepy’s Mattress store.

Asked if he’ll see his friends, who call him Dominguez after a jockey he frequently bets on, Hirshkowitz paused.  “I would say there’s a good chance of it,” but it will not be as often as their daily meetings here.

Cafés and clubs that do not cater to the area’s long-time residents increasingly occupy the storefronts in the Lower East Side.  While gambling may not be the noblest of past times, the OTB storefront serves a dual purpose.

“It gives them something to do,” Hirshkowitz said.  When it closes, “a lot of people are going to be out of a home."

Photo by [slice on Flickr]