WITH GAMBLING'S SPREAD, MORE ADDICTS GET CAUGHT IN ITS WEB

Rex Coile's life is a narrow box, so dark and confining he wonders
how he got trapped inside, whether he'll ever get out.

He never goes to the movies, never sees concerts, never lies on a
sunny beach, never travels on vacation, never spends Christmas with
his family.

Instead, Rex shares floor space in cheap motels with other compulsive
gamblers, comforting himself with delusional dreams of jackpots that
will magically wipe away three decades of wreckage.

He has lost his marriage, his home, his Cadillac, his clothes, his
diamond ring. Not least of all, in the card clubs of Southern
California, he has lost his pride.

Rex agonizes over what he has become at 54 and what he might have
been. He was once an editor at Random House. His mind is so jampacked
with tidbits about movies, television, baseball and history that
card-room regulars call him "Rex Trivia," a name he cherishes for the
remnant of self-respect it gives him.

"There's a lot of Rexes around these card rooms," he says in a whisper
of resignation and sadness.

And their numbers are soaring as gambling explodes across America,
from the mega-resorts of Las Vegas to the gaming parlors of Indian
reservations, from the riverboats along the Mississippi to the corner
mini-marts selling lottery tickets.

With nearly every state in the union now sanctioning some form of
legalized gambling to raise revenues, evidence is mounting that
society is paying a steep price, one that some researchers say must be
confronted, if not reversed.

Never before have bettors blown so much money - a whopping $50.9
billion last year - five times the amount lost in 1980. That's more
than the public spent on movies, theme parks, recorded music and
sporting events combined.

A substantial share of those gambling losses - an estimated 30 percent
to 40 percent - pours from the pockets and purses of chronic losers
hooked on the adrenaline rush of risking their money, intoxicated by
the fast action of gambling's incandescent world.

Studies place the total number of compulsive gamblers at about 4.4
million, about equal to the nation's ranks of hard-core drug addicts.
An additional 11 million, known as problem gamblers, teeter on the
verge. Since 1990, the number of Gamblers Anonymous groups nationwide
has doubled from about 600 to more than 1,200.

Problem crosses society

No longer is habitual gambling an affliction suffered almost solely by
men. More women, teenagers and the elderly are rolling the dice than
ever before. The addiction rate among youth is more than double that
of adults.

Many gambling addicts, no matter what their age or sex, share a common
beginning: a thrilling and hefty payday that they spend years trying
to recapture, turning their early luck into a curse.

Although pathological gambling was recognized as an impulse-control
disorder by the American Psychiatric Association in 1980, the problem
has been afforded neither the urgency nor the treatment funding of
substance abuse, despite its similarly corrosive impact on society.

Compulsive gambling has been linked to child abuse, domestic violence,
embezzlement, bogus insurance claims, bankruptcies, welfare fraud and
a host of other social and criminal ills. The advent of Internet
gambling could lure new legions into wagering beyond their means.

"It's the hidden disease of the '90s," says Paul Ashe, president of
the National Council on Problem Gambling. "You can't see the card
tracks on their arms. You can't smell the dice on their breath."

Clearly, most of the public views gambling as a relatively harmless,
if somewhat expensive, recreational activity. The vast majority of
people know when to stop, much like someone who can enjoy a single
glass of wine over dinner. But even the gambling industry
conservatively acknowledges that at least one out every 100 Americans
has a serious betting problem - chasing the elusive exhilaration of a
big win, rarely retreating from the staggering losses.

Tragedies abound

Every once in a while, a case is so egregious it makes headlines: A
10-day-old baby girl in South Carolina dies after being left for
nearly seven hours in a hot car while her mother plays video poker. A
suburban Chicago woman is so desperate for a bankroll to gamble that
she allegedly suffocates her 7-week-old daughter 11 days after
obtaining a $200,000 life-insurance policy on the baby.

But these tragedies that flash before the public eye are just
lightning strokes of a roiling night storm. Far more often, compulsive
gambling bends lives more subtly, less sensationally, over the course
of years.

Essential family needs are compromised - food, clothing, simple
affection. Faced with mountainous debts, many gamblers lose their
homes. Some steal and swindle to stay afloat another day. Too many end
their free fall with a bottle of pills or a handgun.

"If this were a children's toy, it would be pulled off the market
immediately," University of Illinois economics professor Earl Grinols
says of gambling. "We would not tolerate it."

Government and gambling

Grinols and other gambling critics believe that governments, no matter
how strapped for cash, should not be creating victims, granting a
stamp of approval to gambling that would never be extended to drugs,
alcohol or tobacco. Thirty-seven states now run their own lotteries
and spend millions on seductive advertisements.

"When the cigarette industry did this with Joe Camel, the country was
outraged," says Valerie Lorenz, executive director of the Compulsive
Gambling Center in Baltimore. "Now our government is doing it."

Despite the seedlings of a backlash, the reality is that the gambling
industry is one of the most powerful forces in American business and
politics, stamping out opposition through high-end marketing,
sophisticated spin control and enormous campaign contributions.

In virtually every state where wagering was an issue in the November
elections, pro-gambling forces prevailed.

With so much at stake, many scholars, addiction specialists and
gambling foes of various stripes say it is time to examine the social
implications of gambling's expansion, to consider not only the
estimated $18 billion generated last year for government but the
well-being of those who ante up the money.

No one is sure how much crime is committed for gambling funds. But
some surveys show that about half of Gamblers Anonymous members say
they've stolen to bet.

In one survey, 47 percent admitted to some form of insurance fraud,
embezzlement or arson. In three recent studies in Illinois, Wisconsin
and Connecticut, 394 Gamblers Anonymous members reported a combined
total debt of $37.4 million, and four had embezzled at least $1
million each.

Physical cause for addiction

Science has begun to uncover clues to compulsive gambling - genetic
predispositions that involve chemical receptors in the brain, the same
pleasure pathways implicated in drug and alcohol addiction. But no
amount of knowledge, no amount of enlightenment, makes the illness any
less confounding, any less destructive.

What the gamblers cannot understand about themselves is also well
beyond the comprehension of family members, who struggle for normality
in a world of deceit and madness.

"Anybody who is living with a compulsive gambler is totally
overwhelmed," says Tom Tucker, president of the California Council on
Problem Gambling. "They're steeped in anger, resentment, depression,
confusion. None of their personal efforts will ever stop a person from
their addiction. And they don't really see any hope because compulsive
gambling in general is such an under-recognized illness."

Link to domestic violence

Many therapists say that, as gambling has proliferated, they have seen
a rise in domestic violence and child abuse. In a horrifying case last
year, a compulsive gambler in Massachusetts bludgeoned his sleeping
wife to death after she had taken control of the family money.

Nancy Lantz, a former domestic-violence therapist in Denver, says she
saw an increase of battering by men she was treating when gambling was
legalized in that state. A survey of battered women at a Colorado
Springs shelter revealed that 10 percent of women seeking restraining
orders reported that gambling contributed to the domestic violence.

"If there are already power and control issues in a relationship and
you add gambling, it becomes a more lethal combination," says Lantz,
who now runs a gambling-treatment program in Indianapolis.

Personal bankruptcies

A study last year by SMR Research Corporation of Hackettstown, N.J.,
cited gambling as one of the biggest contributors to the dramatic
increase in personal bankruptcies nationwide, especially in counties
where multiple forms of gambling are legal.

The industry disputes such findings, arguing that factors such as
relaxed bankruptcy laws and aggressive solicitation of credit-card
customers are largely to blame for the rise in financial failures.

The link between gambling and homelessness is usually lost in the
glare of other causes of poverty - especially drugs and alcohol, two
other habits that some gamblers embrace. But almost one in five people
cited gambling as a factor in their homelessness, according to a
survey last spring of 1,100 clients at shelters run by the
International Union of Gospel Missions. About 40 percent of those
surveyed say they still gamble.

About one of every five compulsive gamblers attempts suicide,
according to studies. Though comparative numbers are scarce, some
counselors suspect that compulsive gamblers try to kill themselves as
often - or more - than any other group of addicts.

With drug or alcohol abusers, there is the hope of sobering up, an
accomplishment in itself, no matter what problems may have accompanied
their addictions. Compulsive gamblers often see no way to purge their
urges when suffocating debts suggest only one answer: a hot streak.

"They have nowhere to turn - they feel cornered," says Dr. Richard J.
Rosenthal, a Beverly Hills psychiatrist who founded the California
Council on Problem Gambling. "Very often they are motivated by their
shame into more and more desperate attempts to avoid being found out."

One more hand

Rex Trivia is not about to kill himself, but like most compulsive
gamblers, he occasionally thinks about it. Looking at him, it's hard
to imagine he once had a promising future as a smart young New York
book editor. His pale eyes are expressionless, his hair yellowish and
brittle. In his 50s, his health is failing: emphysema, three lung
collapses, a bad aorta, rotting teeth.

His plunge has been so dizzying that at one point he agreed to aid
another desperate gambler in a run of bank robberies - nine in all.
When the FBI busted him in 1980, he had $50,000 in cash in a dresser
drawer and $100,000 in travelers' checks in his refrigerator's
vegetable crisper.

Rex, who ended up doing a short stint in prison, hasn't seen that kind
of money since.

At 11 o'clock on a Tuesday night, with a bankroll of $55 - all he has
- - he is at a poker table. With quick, nervous hands he stacks and
unstacks his $1 chips. The stack dwindles. Down $30, he talks about
leaving, getting some sleep.

He says he'll stop at midnight.

Midnight comes and goes. Rex starts winning. Three aces. Four threes.
Chips pile up - $60, $70. "A shame to go when the cards are falling my
way." He checks the time: "I'll go at 2. Win, lose or draw."

Fate, kismet, luck - the cards keep falling. At 2 a.m., Rex is up $97.
He stands, leaves his chips on the table and goes out for a smoke. In
the darkness at the edge of the parking lot, he loiters with other
regulars, debating with himself whether to grab a bus and quit.

"I should go back in there and cash in and get out of here," he says.
"That's what I should do."

A long pause. Crushing out his cigarette, Rex turns and heads back
inside. He has made his decision.

"A few more hands."