If you build it, they will come ... and quite possibly lose the rent money.

The subject is the North Shore casino, and that's a big "if" at the moment. Unless the picture improves soon, we might have to change its name from the Majestic Star to the Mirage.

Developer Don Barden, who holds the slots license for Allegheny County, was scrambling for financing last week after he missed a $10 million payment to his builders, causing them to shut down construction.

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, the Pennsylvania Health Department moved to underwrite counseling for gambling addicts who, given the chance, will beg, borrow or steal for a shot at the jackpot. State-approved mental-health practitioners could be reimbursed up to $65 an hour for 20 sessions aimed at helping compulsive gamblers and their families.

So basically, we have the public and private sectors working together to put more temptation in the path of people who can't resist it, then attempting to mitigate the damage with publicly funded therapy that many of the affected will never seek.

It sounds like a vicious cycle, with one hand half-heartedly cleaning up after the other. But it's such a small part of the overall picture, nobody seems bothered by the irony. After all, we don't ban liquor to avoid treating alcoholics. On the contrary, we milk the booze for all it's worth.

People who want to gamble will do it with or without local casinos, the logic goes. Why not keep the revenue here and put it to our own use? Why should West Virginia get the benefit from Pennsylvania's compulsive gamblers when we can capitalize on them right here at home?

And anyway, a little social pathology is a small price for the enormous payoff of legalized gambling. The gaming commission says that state-licensed slots parlors already have returned $1 billion to the commonwealth.

With that much money at stake, Mr. Barden's difficulties are making a lot of people nervous. His glass palace keeps looking less and less likely to materialize in the form and time frame he's been promising.

His company, PITG Gaming of Detroit, insists the project is still on track for completion in May 2009, but the shutdown doesn't inspire confidence. Now the firm says it wants to eliminate or delay a number of riverfront design features that helped win the license to begin with. That prompted Mayor Luke to send a letter of "concern" to the state Gaming Control Board.

This is the same gaming board that chose Mr. Barden over two other ardent suitors for Allegheny County's slots license. His competitors claimed to have deeper pockets and more ability to deliver, but Mr. Barden had something they didn't: location. That's always been the prime directive in real estate, but now we are reminded that it's not enough.

Mr. Barden says he's arranged for a new infusion of $120 million from Walton Street Capital in Chicago. A lot is riding on the deal coming through.

The Majestic Star deal has tentacles that reach into a multitude of local interests. First and foremost, there's the tax relief that supposedly motivated the legalized gambling to begin with. The city of Pittsburgh is counting on about $10 million in casino money in 2010 and $12 million the year after that.

Then there's the Pittsburgh Penguins, who, after years of threatening to pick up their puck and take it elsewhere, stayed in town based on a new arena deal that includes $7.5 million of Mr. Barden's revenue each year.

In addition, there are the neighborhood projects Mr. Barden has promised to fund in the Hill District. And the additional jobs and tourism dollars. And improvements to the North Shore.

All this is looking pretty shaky right now. In light of his financial difficulties (brought on by a combination of lawsuits, delays, a lousy economy and, one suspects, his own over-promising), Mr. Barden announced some design changes that don't sit well even with his supporters.

He wants a three-year postponement of a promised boat dock and outdoor amphitheater. He also wants to eliminate brick paving along the Ohio River in favor of exposed concrete (that will be lovely), to put a lawn where shrubbery and native grasses were supposed to go, and to lose the criss-crossing sidewalks.

Mayor Luke isn't the only one expressing reservations about the scaled-back plans. The Riverlife Task Force, which earlier brought legal action to stop the hulking parking garage that Mr. Barden has proposed, is up in arms. Sanford Rivers, a gaming control board member from Churchill, says he's concerned, too.

Assuming these matters can be addressed and the casino eventually opens, today's problems may look insignificant in retrospect -- but only if the finished project is an asset, not an eyesore. Vast amounts of money can disguise a multitude of sins, but an ugly design that mars the riverfront in perpetuity wouldn't be one of them.