By Ben Joravsky
But environmentalists say it’s a wacky Rube Goldberg scheme that may pollute pristine waterways that feed Lake Michigan. They’ve gone to court to halt the project until more environmental impact studies can be completed.
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By the 1980s many of those factories had closed (the old Pullman factory was converted into the Lighthouse Place Outlet Mall). Though the town never bottomed out, leaders were always looking for ways to bring in money and jobs. “They saw gambling as the answer,” said Anderson, who grew up in Michigan City. “In some ways, it’s an easy way out.”
With the support, however, came deep-rooted opposition that Blue Chip’s backers apparently never anti-cipated. For one thing, there’s a strong environmentalist community in Michigan City–a product of the long, hard struggle to protect the region’s dunes–that’s skeptical of any waterfront development.
The Michigan City activists would have greater confidence in Blue Chip’s assurances if they knew more about the company, which has remained something of a mystery. “We’re not even sure who owns it or who the primary investors are,” Anderson complained. “We don’t know them, but they say they’re coming into our town to change it forever.”
And what are the names of these investors? “I would not be able to name all 24 of them off the top of my head. So rather than leave one name out I’d just as soon not name anyone.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): Photo of Tom Anderson by Lloyd DeGrane.
