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Walking through the cavernous interior of what was once California’s largest winery, Jim Levine bubbles with enthusiasm. 

“If you look at the economic model, this is a site that will really attract visitors and conventions. We expect $150 million in additional local income along with new jobs and purchases from local vendors,” he said. 

If the Berkeley developer has his way, the venerable structure by the shore of Richmond’s Point Molate will become a magnet for Asian tourists, drawing the dollars to an economically depressed community. 

Many question his vision, but he’s drawn the enthusiastic endorsement of many in Richmond’s elected and appointed officialdom who see his plans for a posh casino resort complex at the foot of the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge as the city’s economic salvation. 

While critics claim the gambling palace will siphon dollars from the pockets of those who are the most desperate and least able to afford the losses, Levine says his primary market is players from Asia where gambling has long been part of their culture. 

Unlike two other casinos proposed for the Richmond area, Point Molate is the only one that plans to offer luxury accommodations, shops and a Las Vegas-scale entertainment venue to draw internationally known performers. 

With 1,100 rooms, a 300,000-square-foot retail mall, a dozen or so restaurants and convention facilities to boot, Point Molate would rival any resort in Las Vegas or Atlantic City.  

In other words, Point Molate will compete for “whales” and other high-rollers, and not for the trade that arrives by bus and car to the gambling rooms of other tribes who count on dollars from California residents. 

“Richmond has an extraordinarily unique site,” he said, pointing from the roof of Winehaven toward the high rises of San Francisco still visible in the gathering clouds that would bring rain a few minutes later. 

“The jobs that came here in World War II aren’t coming back, especially because of increasing development in China, so the city is going to have to rely on tourism and other aspects of the economy,” he said. “What we have to do is to make this a world-class facility.” 

Many in Richmond hope he’s right, and he’s drawn strong support from an African American population ravished by a struggling economy and overseas job flight. 

From Toxics to Slots  

While Levine made his initial fortune in the toxic waste cleanup business when he ran LFR-Levine Fricke, an Emeryville-based firm which handles cleanups in many countries, he said his involvement in the gambling trade stemmed from economic development studies he conducted for tribes, often on a pro bono basis. 

The site of his planned casino project had been a U.S. Navy refueling station until it was shut down during the round of base closures in the mid-1990s and was transferred to the city for $1 in September, 2003. 

Before the city acquired the site, councilmembers hired a Colorado consulting company to evaluate the site’s casino potential. When the report said a gambling spa could generate $500 million in economic activity annually along with $1.2 million in sales taxes and 4,462 new jobs, the city decided any would-be developer’s plans had to include a casino alternative. 

The council awarded Levine’s Upstream Investments an exclusive six-month agreement to negotiate a project for the site in December 2003, and the firm quickly established a relationship with the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce, the leading lender in the world of tribal casinos. 

“They performed financial analyses, and then gave introductions to the top four gaming companies in the U.S.” Levine said. 

Upstream’s final choice was Harrah’s Entertainment, the world’s reigning casino giant, which leant its own weight to the deal. Upstream also went out and recruited its own tribe, the Guidiville Band of Pomos, to take the land as a reservation and claim formal ownership of the site. 

Heated council meetings and an unsuccessful ChevronTexaco lawsuit to block the sale delayed the sale until last Nov. 10, when a bare majority of Richmond councilmembers gave Levine his deal. 

Other participants in Upstream’s plans are the Odermatt Group, a Berkeley urban design firm which is doing much of the planning work. Levine’s old firm is tackling some of the environmental and infrastructure issues. Lowe Enterprises, a leading hotelier originally involved in the project, has dropped out.  

One major addition was William Cohen, the powerfully connected Maine Republican who served as Secretary of Defense in the Clinton administration and now runs his own Washington consulting firm. 

While Cherokee Investment Partners, a firm involved in planned developments on two controversial hazardous waste sites in Richmond, was originally considered as a potential funding source, Levine said he had found less expensive money through Harrah’s. 

Two other potential partners were also dropped, Levine said, “because we decided we didn’t want to wind up with too many cooks.” 

If his proposal clears federal and state approval, the aging Winehaven building will be restored to its earlier glory, with the interior transformed from a stark concrete warehouse into a gambling palace with offices in the lowest level, 2,500 to 3,000 slot machines and 125 to 160 table games on the main floor, and a gourmet restaurant and bar on the small third level. 

Because Winehaven and many of the other structures are on the National Register of Historic Places, Upstream is legally obligated to maintain the historic exteriors, an expensive task for developers. 

“The costs are not trivial,” Levine said. “Who else could afford to spend $20 million to fix just one building?”  

Winehaven’s brick facade is showing its age, with much of the mortar crumbling to powder and large sections of brickwork on the verge of breaking free. Levine said restoring the 29 landmarked housing units—contaminated by asbestos and lead paint—represents another major expenditure. 

Meanwhile, legal fights continue. Though Levine says he’s not concerned, attorneys for two groups who are challenging the city’s sale of the land without prior environmental review are hailing the intervention of the state attorney general’s office on their behalf. 

That suit alleges the awarding of the property to Upstream was invalid because the city hadn’t yet completed an Environmental Impact Statement or Review on the transfer. Levine said the transfer won’t be complete without the document, which is mandated in Upstream’s agreement with the city. 

He also said that his agreement is the only tribal agreement that mandates that the development be subject to the California Environmental Quality Act. 

The two litigants, Citizens for East Shore Parks and the East Bay Regional Park District, want to preserve shoreline under public ownership, but Levine argues that all his site has been developed, and that he would be restoring more shoreline green space than currently exists. 

That litigation could be decided by late September or early October. 

A second lawsuit by a rival, Florida-based tribal gaming developer is seeking a billion dollars from Levine’s group on that grounds that they improperly enticed the Guidivilles out of an existing deal. 

Levine’s side scored a major victory in that case on April 13, when the office of the secretary of the interior issued a finding that the original agreement was not legally binding because it hadn’t been approved by the secretary’s office. 

Shrewd Political Player 

Critics charge that Levine is master of the political game. But what critics see as a negative, Levine sees as a positive. 

“I have friends who are powerful in both parties,” Levine said, and he gives money to both sides. 

“Although I’m a Democrat, my personal belief is that our system works best when neither party has all the power,” he said. 

Levine’s a longtime supporter of Rep. Barbara Lee, the outspoken East Bay congressional Representative, and he gave $27,500 to Lt. Gov. Cruz Bustamante’s campaign in the gubernatorial recall election. He also contributed to the Al Gore presidential campaign in 2000. 

But he’s been giving to the GOP more recently, including a $10,000 donation to the Republican National Committee last June, and $2,500 to Pioneer PAC, which funds GOP candidates for the House. 

Levine insists his contributions are dictated by personal beliefs, not business reasons. 

“I also gave a few thousand to the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee,” he said. “And Barbara Lee’s really my hero. I’ve supported her throughout my career.” 

Levine’s casino dreams now rest in political hands. Before he can build a casino, he needs approval from the Interior Department, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger—another new political friend—and the state legislature. 

And should his casino plans fail, Levine has a backup plan that calls for 1,100 housing units on the site.ª