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