Guns in the Capitol

Earlier this year, some unbalanced guy entered the Texas capitol building with a gun, acted suspiciously, went outside and shot his gun into the air a few times. No one was hurt, but the incident opened the public debate about security at the capitol. Governor Perry weighed in, saying he was against metal detectors, and making the capitol look like DFW airport. This might be the only issue on which the governor and I agree. Any nut job can do unspeakable harm in this, or any open setting, if they want to make the news badly enough. Metal detectors and other obvious security measures only serve to provide the illusion of safety at such a symbolic location.

Then there is the combination of legal exceptions and political posturing which allows just about anyone to enter the capitol building with a gun. Texas, being a state with a concealed handgun license law, and a state where lawmakers aren't about to give up their guns at the door, or go against the gun lobby, is not going to take meaningful steps to make the capitol building a gun-free zone. So, as pictured below, we have metal detectors and a clump of state troopers manning the area. And then we have the express lane, where those with a concealed handgun license can bypass the line, and enter with their loaded weapons. I feel safer already.

When I read about the new "security" measures in the newspaper, I was especially struck by one detail. As an "open carry" state for long guns (shot guns, rifles, etc.), people can bring these weapons into the capitol. My first thought was, "Wow, that's crazy." My second thought was, "I'm going to do that, just to see what will happen."
Stephen F. Austin, role model:

At first this seemed like a bit of a stunt, maybe even a joke. Still, I knew to take it seriously enough not to just stroll up the steps with my gun. And not being a gun owner, I had to buy a Daisy BB gun, which at about 3 feet long, could pass to the untrained eye for a dangerous weapon. So I went to the capitol to do some reconnaissance. I spoke to the troopers about what I planned to do. One guy asked me for what purpose I wanted to carry a long gun into the capitol. I told him I wanted to exercise my rights, to the full extent of the law. This seemed to throw him off a bit, and he referred me to the sergeant in charge that day. I met with the sergeant, confirmed that what I planned was legal, but he could not tell me all of the security policies in place. He emphasized that a weapon should not be carried or held in a threatening manner, and that other people in and around the building might react to me if they sensed that I was a threat. He was very clear and very professional.

Gun themes are evident all around the capitol complex. I walked past this statue between my parked car and the front of the capitol.

Carrie knew that I was thinking about doing this. When I told her that I had been to the capitol to check out the situation, she said that she was worried about me getting arrested. I assured her that she need not worry about that. What I did not tell her was, rather than being arrested, I was more likely to be shot by someone with a concealed handgun, who perceived me as a threat. Not wanting to die, but in my mind committed to taking my gun into the capitol, I had to figure out the safest way to make it happen. I also had no interest in freaking out families and other tourists as they visited the capitol. Imagine seeing a man entering the capitol with what looks to be a shotgun or rifle. From any distance, one's first thought is not likely to be, "Oh, that's obviously an unloaded BB gun. No problem."

I made at least two more trips to the capitol, thinking that I would carry out my plan. Too many people. People I might scare. Scared people doing things I could not predict or control. The metaphor is too obvious, but I was sweating little metal projectiles. This was a bad idea. I asked a state trooper out front what hours the building was open to visitors. 7:00 AM to 10:00 PM.

7:00 AM. That was the key. A few days later, I arrived at the capitol just after 7:00. The place was not deserted, but it felt calm. I walked unarmed, to the security station inside, and told them my intentions. I wanted to walk around the rotunda a few times with my gun and then leave. The trooper I dealt with seemed unfazed, but told me he wanted to check the gun to see if it was loaded before I came past the check point. When I asked him later if someone could bring in a loaded long gun, he said, "We probably would not let you do that." From the way he said this, I got the feeling that he was revealing a security policy that they really prefer not to make public.

I went back to my car, and pulled the gun (still in its box) out of my car trunk. Though few people were around, I was amazed that my anxiety level was so low. I could tell that this was going to be fine. The same trooper met me just outside the doors and walked inside with me. I handed him my gun, and he checked it quite thoroughly, even stepping just outside to examine it in the natural light. He handed it back to me, and said that he would hold the box for me until I was ready to leave. During all of my dealings with the troopers, I had made clear that I wanted to cause the least amount of alarm to others as possible. He saw that my actions were consistent with this, and he projected a calm confidence, and a trust that I was in no way a threat. I'm pretty sure that he had alerted troopers in other parts the building, because when I was in the rotunda, the state troopers there were on their radios, and keeping close track of me.

As I circled the rotunda, I kept my gaze mostly on the portraits of past governors. I looked down the side halls, and made sure to make eye contact with members of the security team that were close by. There were no other civilians in proximity to me, so any threat dynamic was off the table. In fact, by this time it felt almost like an academic exercise. I was thankful for the lack of drama. I returned to the security area, boxed up my weapon, thanked the man for his professional help, and walked quickly back to my car.

My reflections on this activity:

Aside from the specific actions, this turned out to be an exercise in fear, mine and that of others, and finding ways to minimize it. On the days that I went to the capitol planning to take my gun inside, but never got it out of the car, I had to trust what my self-inflicted anxiety was telling me. I would stand on the steps of the south entrance, look down the great walk and Congress Avenue, and think, "Not today."

As to the issue of gun rights vs. gun control, I am firmly ambivalent. The political battles are mostly symbolic, and great ways for special interests to raise and spend money. My ambivalence is evident in that I can't decide what to do with my Daisy Red Ryder. I don't know of a family that would want it for their kid, and I don't want to throw it away, like it's some kind of danger that must be buried. So for now it is in its box, in the trunk of my car.

The men and women of the Department of Public Safety are very professional, and do a great job. I am grateful for how they dealt with me each time I was there. The one question that I could not bring myself to ask was, what would they do if 500 people approached and wanted to enter the capitol with their rifles?

This will be my last post for a while. Thank you for reading.

I should tell you that the outcome of my property tax appeal was successful beyond my wildest dreams. I had asked for a $10,000 drop in the appraised value. After the lady from the county came to do the interior visual inspection, they dropped the value by more than $28,000. Wow, we do live in a hovel. It's amazing what you can get used to. I love our house.

If I write anything during the school year, I will consider you "opted in," and will notify you when I post. If you want to "opt out," send me a private e-mail - it's less humiliating for me that way. Thanks again, for encouraging me to blog, and reading when I do.

Peace,

Jay

Worth Every Penny

Many, many years ago, songwriter Butch Hancock played a show every night for the month of February, with a different theme, in a different setting each night. Carrie and I made one of those shows, Train Night, at the old Waterloo Ice House on Lamar. I don't recall if we've seen him do a solo show since then, but his latest stunt at The Cactus Cafe was enough to get us out on a Thursday night. It was also the only live music that I paid a cover charge to see this summer. To close out this era of The Cactus, Butch played five consecutive nights without repeating a single song. Half the audience had bought a five night pass so they could attend every show. I like Butch, but come on, one night was enough, especially if you happened to pick the right night.


Butch's songs are full of wry metaphors, and casually deep observations, with bits of wisdom that the listener can hold or ignore if they so choose. The wordiness and observational style can keep a separateness between him and a larger audience, but the intimacy of The Cactus easily overcomes that issue. Anticipating what turned out to be a very long break between sets, Carrie had me drive her home during the intermission. Big Mistake.


When I returned to the show, Butch was joined on stage by Joe Ely and Jimmie Dale Gilmore, making the last 90 minutes a full-on Flatlanders reunion. Unrehearsed and hilarious, the three of them shared two guitars and plenty of stories about the songs they had written together. It was sublime. I could write a lot more about how great it was, but that would just make Carrie sad.



Earlier that week, Jimmie Dale's son, Colin Gilmore played an in-store at Waterloo. It's tough to write about his music without comparing it to his father's. Taking five years between albums, it is clear that Colin works hard crafting quality songs, and mostly succeeds. Natural images of wind, sun, and raindrops in July give a listener the chance to put him or her self into the heart of the songs. I was a little disoriented when the first notes of the first song he played were identical to John Prine's "Picture Show," but after that it was all original. Colin's vocals only occasionally wander to the nasally heights of his dad's, but the resemblance is more evident when he is speaking. Otherwise it is a straght Texas songwriter sound, doing what he does well, taking it seriously, but not taking any bold chances. He's making music that his dad can be proud of, and it was nice to see Jimmie Dale there supporting his son's effort.


L.A.'s Ozomatli packed the store with fans and energy last week, in town for the Latin Music Awards. They were not playing anywhere else in town, so lots of people made the effort to see it. The variety of styles they play is amazing, and all of it is high energy, with horns and keyboards, and lord knows what else. On this day, they really brought the funk, reminding me of James Brown meets hip hop. They left the audience wanting more, playing only about 25 minutes, but for serious fans they'll be back at ACL.

Peace,

JS4

Never Too Late for a Tribute

Alejandro Escovedo is lucky to be alive, and he plays music like he knows the value of every day. At 59, he's pretty old to still be chasing rock and roll fame and fortune, but a recent interview made it sound like he'd like some commercial success to go with the critical acclaim he has earned. I'm pretty sure that window closed a while back, but it means that he can be seen in smaller venues, always a better viewing experience. He's also got friends in high places. When he last played the Stone Pony in New Jersey, Bruce Springsteen joined him on stage for a few songs.
Escovedo played a noon in-store, which I think was scheduled to keep the store from overcrowding. The picture at the bottom of this post is from the side of the stage, since getting close up front was not in the cards. The show was great, but writing about it is just a way to get to something I've been wanting to write for more than a year. If I blogged during the school year, a post in the Spring of 2009 would have been titled, "A Sad Day in May."

Carrie and I were in the car on the way down the street to vote in the city elections when the news came on the radio. Stephen Bruton was dead. We knew he had cancer. We knew the prognosis was not good. We cried a little in the car, then went in to vote.

Stephen was not famous, but people who knew him or knew his music loved him. We knew only his music, but we knew it from up close. Most of the times that we saw him perform was at The Saxon Pub, as part of the band The Resentments. We dragged many of our friends and family to their Sunday night shows to see Stephen, Jon Dee Graham, Jud Newcomb and whoever else might join them on a given night. Great guitar work, raspy unpolished vocals and hilarious side stories were guaranteed as they traded songs. Jon Dee was the only one of them who could carry a solo show, but together, they blended perfectly. They had fun playing, had obvious affection for one another, and they let the audience in on the whole thing. And you got the sense that it worked week after week because what everybody really wanted to do was hang out with Stephen, and Sundays at The Saxon was their chance.

Stephen did some solo work and released some albums, but really he was a band member. I don't have expertise about guitar playing, but nothing I heard ever made me think that Stephen Bruton was an all-time great. But the list of people who wanted him in their bands, starting with Kris Kristofferson, is more than impressive, and includes Bonnie Raitt and Elvis Costello. Almost as much for his guitar playing, I'm sure people of that stature just liked having Stephen in the band because of the same things that we saw over and over again at The Saxon Pub. There was a light about him that drew people in, an intangible spark in his music that connected to people. He is the only musician in Austin that we had that connection with who has died.

He worked on the music for the movie Crazy Heart, which won an Oscar for Ryan Bingham and T-Bone Burnett, so he has had some recent acclaim. Alejandro Escovedo's last song at the in-store was an instrumental, dedicated to Stephen Bruton. The famous, the not-so-famous, and just regular people like me want to pay tribute at least one more time.

After Carrie and I voted that day, we knew where we needed to go. Except for a couple of regulars, there weren't many people in The Saxon Pub at 2:30 on a Saturday afternoon. We pulled up to the bar, told the waitress we were there to drink a beer in Stephen's honor, and paid quiet tribute. A few minutes in, a group of young guys started setting up musical equipment for their matinee show. I have no idea if they had ever heard of Stephen Bruton. They said they were new in town, and this was their first time to play The Saxon. The timing had a "circle of life" feel to it. We stayed for a few songs, stuffed a few dollars in the tip jar, and walked out into the harsh daylight.

Peace,

JS4





P.S. There is a Youtube video of Bruton playing with Kristofferson on an Austin City Limits episode. It won't copy here, but if you go to Youtube and enter Kris Kristofferson Austin City Limits, it's the first one up. Not much of Stephen, but worth 3 minutes of your time.

Jimmie V. + 2

I think the first time I saw Jimmie Vaughan in concert was an October 2001 outdoor deal with B.B. King, John Hiatt, Buddy Guy, etc. One thing I remember about that day was the overdone security at the gate, since it was so close to 9/11. I also remember that KGSR's Bryan Beck attempted a horrible joke about Afghanistan. Nine years later and that joke's still not funny. Didn't like Beck then, and I still can't stand him on the radio. Musically, my expectations for Jimmie Vaughan were not real high. I'd always considered his rhythm sound second to Stevie Ray's straight blues. Jimmie's set was the best performance that day at Auditorium Shores. It's been 20 years since Stevie died, and Jimmie has had the burden of managing his brother's legacy, while trying to carve out his own career, always in the shadow of a legend.

I knew the in-store for Jimmie would be crowded, but wow, what a turnout. The first picture is of John Kunz, the owner of Waterloo. He usually takes pictures of the bands as they play - such a fan. There was so little room between the crowd and the stage, that he had to crawl and scoot along the floor to get his pictures. Later during the show, I snapped this image of him standing on the counter in the back corner of the store, as he took more pictures.

Jimmie plays the role of bandleader, with swing elements like a horn section and stand up bass player.

What seems to work for Jimmie Vaughan, more than any player I've seen, is his ability to perform on the edges of relaxed intensity and focused cool. It does not translate to his recordings, but live, it is something special.

Lou Ann Barton joined the band on vocals for a few songs. She can be unpredictable (drunk), but has the goods. She can sing the blues with authenticity, and has lived them probably as much as a white woman can.

A recent double bill at the store included Here We Go Magic. After a long sound check, they finally started playing their weird, ethereal, hyper-echoed songs. If there was an arrangement of the instrumental parts, it was lost on me, because it sounded like they were making it up as they went. The only postives were that the lead "singer" and the keyboard player were pleasant to look at, and at under 20 minutes, it was thankfully the shortest show I can remember seeing.

Lawrence Arabia played the same day, which meant it was not a totally wasted trip to 6th and Lamar. Their style was hard to categorize because it seemed to shift from song to song. They (he) is from New Zealand, so British influences like The Kinks and George Harrison (and recent Wilco) were strong. Then on their last song, the bass line opened and dominated throughout, and it was lifted straight from Blondie's "One Way or Another." Just noticeably off harmonies gave the songs a more indie feel, but took nothing away from my liking their music.

Reportedly, there is a great BBQ trailer on the access road of I-35, at about 35th street. I've driven by, and can confirm there is a popular trailer selling something, but the long lines and the heat have kept me from trying it so far. They have a shade to cover part of the line, but the two times I've checked it out, the line stretches out beyond the shade, into the hot parking lot. Maybe another time. I'm of the mind that someone other than me should be suffering for quality BBQ.

Peace,

JS4

New

Maps and Atlases was an odd little band with a dedicated fan base that showed for their in-store. The band set up on the floor instead of the stage and they had no amplification at all. I was standing close, and when the singer talked between songs, I could not make out what he was saying. The bass player had a chord that ran from the bass to a little box the size of your fist that converted the sound to something metallic. If you think about Jethro Tull, but with this bass thingy instead of a flute, that's what they sounded like. No beer at this show. No explanation, just a bunch of confused regulars.
A critics darling, but commercially unviable, Peter Case played a solo set of blues-based rock/folk. Looking like a semi-homeless mess, his energetic style revealed a man who has to make music, not for money, but because it's in him and he's got to let it out.

An anonymous comment from last week's blog wondered about my lack of food reviews this year. I have been eating out less this summer, and I have not been moved to write about my meals out. It's not them, it's me. Carrie and I did make it to Trudy's one Friday for our traditional beginning of summer celebration. Of course we did not get there 'til sometime in mid-July. That's just how this summer has been.

For years Carrie and I have talked about going to Jaime's Spanish Village down on Red River. We arranged to go on July 30th, which was their last day in business. Traditional Tex-Mex is less in favor these days, but it was a rent increase that shut them down. Patrons were pulling stuff off the wall to take home (with permission, I think). Kinda sad, but this section of downtown is in the midst of major change, now that the Waller Creek tunnel (boondoggle) is on the way.

Too bad about Bristol Palin and Levi. I guess when the invite for the dream double wedding with Chelsea Clinton didn't come through, there was no reason to stay together.

Peace,

JS4