Ooooh, a delay.

Surely, that would have demonstrated that the fledgling gaming board wouldn't be lackeys for all the vested interests who pushed the state into the slots racket.

Even if the gaming board had delayed action on DeNaples' license, it's unlikely that it would have denied his application.

That's because the General Assembly didn't require that background checks of license applicants be done by the Pennsylvania State Police or the Attorney General's Office.

Instead, unlike other states, the same outfit that issues the licenses does the background checks. And, also unlike other states, most of the process operates in secret and out of public view.

Given that, there is nothing to stop the gaming board from making the same mistake again, board chairwoman Mary DiGiacomo Colins said this week.

That's further evidence that the current rules and procedures to conduct background checks and issue gambling licenses need fixing. Fast!

Just consider the DeNaples case.

Here's what the board might have known about DeNaples before voting on his license had the attorney general or state police handled license applicants' background checks:

DeNaples is allegedly good friends and has had business dealings with a couple of reputed mobsters from Scranton, including the late boss of the Bufalino crime family in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

DeNaples discussed doing business with former Mayor John Street's pay-to-play pal, Ron White, who was indicted on corruption charges but died before the case went to trial, and with Shamsud-din Ali, who was convicted of racketeering, fraud, extortion and conspiracy and sentenced to seven years in federal prison.

DeNaples may have a little Archie Bunker in him. When shown a photo and asked about meeting Ali, who is African American, DeNaples said, "To me, all black people look alike."

Law enforcement officials knew all of this about DeNaples, but the gaming board didn't.

DeNaples was indicted last month by Dauphin County prosecutors for allegedly lying under oath to the gaming board about his alleged mob ties and dealings with Ali and White. He has denied the perjury charges and apologized for the racial comment.

After DeNaples was indicted, the gaming board suspended his license and appointed a trustee to run his Mount Airy Casino Resort in the Poconos.

Colins now says the gaming board might have acted differently before granting the license had it been aware of the allegations against DeNaples.

Don't rest too easy. Consider what the board did know about DeNaples before giving him a license: He was a felon. DeNaples pleaded no contest in 1978 to charges he and three others bilked the federal government out of more than a half-million dollars of recovery funds following a tropical storm.

That alone should have been a big enough red flag for the gaming board. Other states don't allow former convicts to run casinos.

But felons have a friend in Pennsylvania. In fact, state lawmakers jerry-rigged the gaming law to allow them in on the action, provided their conviction is more than 15 years old.

However, the law doesn't say the gaming board has to give a felon a casino license just because he qualifies for one. And the law doesn't say he gets to keep the license if he is indicted after his casino opens.

A casino license is a privilege, not a right. Pennsylvanians have been assured that casino gambling here will be a legitimate business. Already, they must have serious doubts.