Drizzt
Member
Duluth News-Tribune
April 14, 2003 Monday
SECTION: P1
LENGTH: 1976 words
HEADLINE: Support for concealed weapons is lower in high-crime areas;
MINNESOTA
eople in safer regions support an effort to grant wider access to concealed-weapons permits.
BYLINE: BY JIM RAGSDALE; ST. PAUL PIONEER PRESS
BODY:
The St. Paul neighborhood group met a few blocks from where the body was found.
The death of Michael Simmons, shot eight times and found in a Frogtown alley in early March, was not on the agenda of the District 7 Planning Council but it came up in conversation before the meeting began. When the Legislature's proposal for wider access to concealed weapons permits came up, these veteran neighborhood activists did not leap to their feet to sign up.
"I don't think I'd feel better if I thought more people had guns," Tony Schmitz told the group. "There are enough fools with guns already around here."
About 140 miles to the north, bail bondsman John Lenertz lingered over a cup of coffee in downtown Brainerd, Minn., and talked about his need to carry a loaded weapon from time to time. He has no story of a body in the alley, but said he often carries negotiable bonds and has clients with rap sheets.
"The criminal element knows who I am," said Lenertz, who has a permit and occasionally slips a holstered weapon inside his belt.
He understands the gravity of that decision but believes a well-trained and responsible gun owner "should have a right to bear a firearm, the same as someone should have the right to protest the war."
The geography and philosophies say a lot about Minnesota's fierce debate over whether the state should change its laws to grant wider access to concealed-weapons permits.
Residents and politicians in areas where street crime is oc- casionally punctuated by the late-night pop of gunshots tend to see handguns as the problem, not the solution. Their counterparts in areas where weaponry is most commonly aimed at deer see the gun as a useful tool to be respected but not feared. Distance from violent crime somehow translates into more support for the self-defense position.
The bill that would create a more uniform, statewide system -- supported by gun-rights groups such as the National Rifle Association and opposed by gun-control organizations and police groups -- is headed for a climax. With Gov. Tim Pawlenty and the Republican-controlled House on board, only the closely divided Senate stands as a potential barrier to the bill's success this year.
Minnesota's current concealed-weapons law accommodates both views of the gun culture. Police chiefs and sheriffs have wide discretion in determining who gets to carry a loaded weapon in their communities, and it is this fudge factor in the law to which gun-rights groups and Pawlenty object.
For example: Brainerd and Crow Wing County approved 997 permits last year, and St. Paul and Ramsey County granted only 265.
The main difference between the two areas was in the much smaller number of applicants in Ramsey County, despite the fact that Ramsey County has nine times the population of Crow Wing County.
"It's really a different cultural thing," said Brainerd Police Chief John Bolduc. He said that while people in sparsely populated rural Minnesota tend to own guns and believe in the right to self-defense, the attitude is different in more densely populated cities. "Guns are kind of a taboo," he said of the urban view.
SAUSAGE AND SAFETY
"If I had one, I would have killed 12 people by now," one woman jokes.
"Only 12?" a neighbor cracks back.
"In the last week," the first woman responds.
The lighthearted exchange about concealed weapons took place in the basement of St. Paul's St. Stephanus Lutheran Church late last month.
The main topics of discussion included a businessman's proposal to manufacture sausage in an abandoned building, a pitch for a car-sharing system from an environmental group and whether the Frogtown Festival should be merged with National Night Out.
Simmons' death, believed to be related to the drug trade, did not convince these neighborhood stalwarts that they would be safer with loaded weapons in their purses or pockets. The woman's joke made a point that several of her neighbors underscored: Everyday conflicts and tensions could get out of hand if more people carried loaded handguns.
"My fear is that we're allowing neighbors to believe they can take the law into their own hands," Tait Danielson, lead organizer for the group, said later. "It's almost an endorsement coming from the government that says brandishing a gun is OK, and shooting someone to make sure you're safe is OK."
In his role, Danielson said, he is often in the midst of emotionally volatile situations -- disputes among neighbors, fears about loitering youngsters, shouted arguments on a hot summer night.
"What we try to do as crime prevention people is come to a solution," Danielson said. He said he fears that if the law changes, "We're allowing neighbors to believe they can take the law into their own hands." "Crime is a part of our day-to-day life," he said. "We deal with crime every day. Crime in a city becomes manageable. You know the patterns. You know what's going on. You start by working with the police department. I don't ever want to be in a situation where the police department is a second choice and the first option is, all of a sudden, taking it into your own hands."
There were dissenting views in the St. Stephanus basement. Larry Paulson, a retired truck driver, believes that the "bad guys" might change their behavior if they knew others might be carrying loaded weapons concealed in their pants and purses. "Everybody has the right to carry a gun," Paulson said.
But he wouldn't. "One little mistake with a gun, you might kill somebody," he said. "You might go to jail too." Paul Holmgren, alone among the activists at the meeting, agreed with the bill and said he would go through the training and apply for a permit. But he said it is his faith in God, more than the weapon, that would make him feel safe.
St. Paul Police Chief Bill Finney said most concealed weapons applicants in the city have job-related needs, such as working as a security guard, and are generally approved. He said a much smaller group seeks permits for self-defense needs, and he believes that small demand reflects the attitude of people in urban areas toward public safety.
"People in the big cities would just as soon not see people other than police carry a firearm," he said. "I like to think they have enough confidence in their police department that they don't need to carry a gun for themselves."
THE 'GUN BELT'
St. Paul's tight gun permit policy is reversed in vast stretches of rural Minnesota, particularly in the north-central lakes area and north woods. Population is sparse, hunting is part of a boy's entry into manhood and guns are treated with respect and caution -- but without the fear they inspire in Frogtown and other urban areas.
Brainerd, a city of 13,421, had 109 valid concealed-weapons permits last year -- just a few less than St. Paul, which had 122 permits and a population of 287,260. Crow Wing County, the southern edge of a vast area that might be called Minnesota's Gun Belt, received 1,018 applications last year and approved 98 percent of them.
Those numbers are repeated from Brainerd to the Canadian border. The statistics show that many sheriffs and local police chiefs strongly support the right to carry a concealed weapon, despite gun-rights groups' fears that law enforcement opposes the idea of self-defense.
Eric Klang, the Crow Wing County sheriff, and Bolduc, the Brainerd police chief, are allowed wide latitude under the law to determine whether a qualified applicant has a need for a permit. Both said they tend to approve permits for people who meet the law's basic requirements and state a legitimate public safety need or occupational hazard.
"As long as a person meets the requirements of the law, they should get a permit," Klang said.
Thirteen counties in this area, with about 8 percent of the state's population, are home to about half of the permits granted statewide in 2002. The approval rate in this area was 98 percent.
These statistics, like every other fact in the gun debate, are used to argue both sides.
John Caile, spokesman for Concealed Carry Reform Now, which is lobbying for changes in the law, said the statistics show the law needs to be changed. He said the "area of the greatest need" for self-defense -- higher-crime areas in the metro area -- are where permits are most difficult to get.
Granting gun permits in nonmetro Minnesota, he said, is like selling "the most snow shovels in Florida -- 10 times as many snow shovels in Florida as in Minnesota." He added that the reason there are so few applications in St. Paul and other metro cities is because gun owners believe they will be turned down.
Rebecca Thoman, executive director of Citizens for a Safer Minnesota, a gun-control group that is fighting proposed changes in the law, said the statistics show the current system accommodates both views of the gun culture.
She said that while people in rural Minnesota may "see a gun as a safety device, people in cities see a gun as being dangerous."
IS COMPROMISE POSSIBLE?
It is hard to imagine John Lenertz having a problem getting a concealed-weapon permit anywhere in the state. His job as a bail bondsman who deals with both money and criminals would appear to meet even the strictest definition of "occupational need."
Lenertz, a strong supporter of the Brainerd Police Department, has never drawn his gun and hopes he never feels the need. "The last thing that I would ever do, would be to draw out my weapons," he said. "I would never ever use deadly force unless I knew I was going to die."
But Lenertz passionately believes that Minnesota needs a uniform permitting system so that the same rules apply in Brainerd as in Frogtown. Like most knowledgeable gun owners, he believes permit-holders should be well-trained in the operation and use of firearms.
His vision of the ultimate gun need is the woman walking to her car in a darkened parking ramp, with a predator lurking in the shadows. This is as popular an image for gun-rights supporters as the road-rage shooting is for concealed weapons foes.
"If she could have been trained perhaps to carry something, she might not have had to die," Lenertz said. Lenertz regards a firearm as a useful tool, not a source of suffering.
That theme is carried through in the law enforcement building in Brainerd, where Klang has his office.
The hallways are lined with displays that you would not expect to see in an urban police station: rows upon rows of bullets, shotgun shell casings and ammo large and small, grouped by category and displayed in handsome glass cases against a green felt background. The collection was donated in memory of a local sportsman, Les Ebert.
Klang said his belief in granting permits to qualified applicants, however, does not mean he believes the weapons will do much good.
Klang said weapons are often taken from their owners and used against them, and he has doubts about how well civilians can perform when faced with the life-or-death decisions that law enforcement officials train and study for years to learn how to handle.
And the burglaries and assaults that are most common in rural Minnesota will not be stopped by carrying a weapon, Klang said.
"There's absolutely, really no reason to be carrying a gun on your person," Klang said. "But it's our Second Amendment right." He said he worries how the presence of guns at a chaotic scene will affect law enforcement. "We show up on the scene -- how are we to know who the good guys or the bad guys are?" he asked.
Ultimately, there may be no way to work out the argument for the individual right to self-defense and the position that the social good requires limits on that right. Bolduc said the current concealed-weapons law allows police and sheriff's departments to make their own interpretations.
"Maybe that's how it should be," he said.
April 14, 2003 Monday
SECTION: P1
LENGTH: 1976 words
HEADLINE: Support for concealed weapons is lower in high-crime areas;
MINNESOTA
eople in safer regions support an effort to grant wider access to concealed-weapons permits.BYLINE: BY JIM RAGSDALE; ST. PAUL PIONEER PRESS
BODY:
The St. Paul neighborhood group met a few blocks from where the body was found.
The death of Michael Simmons, shot eight times and found in a Frogtown alley in early March, was not on the agenda of the District 7 Planning Council but it came up in conversation before the meeting began. When the Legislature's proposal for wider access to concealed weapons permits came up, these veteran neighborhood activists did not leap to their feet to sign up.
"I don't think I'd feel better if I thought more people had guns," Tony Schmitz told the group. "There are enough fools with guns already around here."
About 140 miles to the north, bail bondsman John Lenertz lingered over a cup of coffee in downtown Brainerd, Minn., and talked about his need to carry a loaded weapon from time to time. He has no story of a body in the alley, but said he often carries negotiable bonds and has clients with rap sheets.
"The criminal element knows who I am," said Lenertz, who has a permit and occasionally slips a holstered weapon inside his belt.
He understands the gravity of that decision but believes a well-trained and responsible gun owner "should have a right to bear a firearm, the same as someone should have the right to protest the war."
The geography and philosophies say a lot about Minnesota's fierce debate over whether the state should change its laws to grant wider access to concealed-weapons permits.
Residents and politicians in areas where street crime is oc- casionally punctuated by the late-night pop of gunshots tend to see handguns as the problem, not the solution. Their counterparts in areas where weaponry is most commonly aimed at deer see the gun as a useful tool to be respected but not feared. Distance from violent crime somehow translates into more support for the self-defense position.
The bill that would create a more uniform, statewide system -- supported by gun-rights groups such as the National Rifle Association and opposed by gun-control organizations and police groups -- is headed for a climax. With Gov. Tim Pawlenty and the Republican-controlled House on board, only the closely divided Senate stands as a potential barrier to the bill's success this year.
Minnesota's current concealed-weapons law accommodates both views of the gun culture. Police chiefs and sheriffs have wide discretion in determining who gets to carry a loaded weapon in their communities, and it is this fudge factor in the law to which gun-rights groups and Pawlenty object.
For example: Brainerd and Crow Wing County approved 997 permits last year, and St. Paul and Ramsey County granted only 265.
The main difference between the two areas was in the much smaller number of applicants in Ramsey County, despite the fact that Ramsey County has nine times the population of Crow Wing County.
"It's really a different cultural thing," said Brainerd Police Chief John Bolduc. He said that while people in sparsely populated rural Minnesota tend to own guns and believe in the right to self-defense, the attitude is different in more densely populated cities. "Guns are kind of a taboo," he said of the urban view.
SAUSAGE AND SAFETY
"If I had one, I would have killed 12 people by now," one woman jokes.
"Only 12?" a neighbor cracks back.
"In the last week," the first woman responds.
The lighthearted exchange about concealed weapons took place in the basement of St. Paul's St. Stephanus Lutheran Church late last month.
The main topics of discussion included a businessman's proposal to manufacture sausage in an abandoned building, a pitch for a car-sharing system from an environmental group and whether the Frogtown Festival should be merged with National Night Out.
Simmons' death, believed to be related to the drug trade, did not convince these neighborhood stalwarts that they would be safer with loaded weapons in their purses or pockets. The woman's joke made a point that several of her neighbors underscored: Everyday conflicts and tensions could get out of hand if more people carried loaded handguns.
"My fear is that we're allowing neighbors to believe they can take the law into their own hands," Tait Danielson, lead organizer for the group, said later. "It's almost an endorsement coming from the government that says brandishing a gun is OK, and shooting someone to make sure you're safe is OK."
In his role, Danielson said, he is often in the midst of emotionally volatile situations -- disputes among neighbors, fears about loitering youngsters, shouted arguments on a hot summer night.
"What we try to do as crime prevention people is come to a solution," Danielson said. He said he fears that if the law changes, "We're allowing neighbors to believe they can take the law into their own hands." "Crime is a part of our day-to-day life," he said. "We deal with crime every day. Crime in a city becomes manageable. You know the patterns. You know what's going on. You start by working with the police department. I don't ever want to be in a situation where the police department is a second choice and the first option is, all of a sudden, taking it into your own hands."
There were dissenting views in the St. Stephanus basement. Larry Paulson, a retired truck driver, believes that the "bad guys" might change their behavior if they knew others might be carrying loaded weapons concealed in their pants and purses. "Everybody has the right to carry a gun," Paulson said.
But he wouldn't. "One little mistake with a gun, you might kill somebody," he said. "You might go to jail too." Paul Holmgren, alone among the activists at the meeting, agreed with the bill and said he would go through the training and apply for a permit. But he said it is his faith in God, more than the weapon, that would make him feel safe.
St. Paul Police Chief Bill Finney said most concealed weapons applicants in the city have job-related needs, such as working as a security guard, and are generally approved. He said a much smaller group seeks permits for self-defense needs, and he believes that small demand reflects the attitude of people in urban areas toward public safety.
"People in the big cities would just as soon not see people other than police carry a firearm," he said. "I like to think they have enough confidence in their police department that they don't need to carry a gun for themselves."
THE 'GUN BELT'
St. Paul's tight gun permit policy is reversed in vast stretches of rural Minnesota, particularly in the north-central lakes area and north woods. Population is sparse, hunting is part of a boy's entry into manhood and guns are treated with respect and caution -- but without the fear they inspire in Frogtown and other urban areas.
Brainerd, a city of 13,421, had 109 valid concealed-weapons permits last year -- just a few less than St. Paul, which had 122 permits and a population of 287,260. Crow Wing County, the southern edge of a vast area that might be called Minnesota's Gun Belt, received 1,018 applications last year and approved 98 percent of them.
Those numbers are repeated from Brainerd to the Canadian border. The statistics show that many sheriffs and local police chiefs strongly support the right to carry a concealed weapon, despite gun-rights groups' fears that law enforcement opposes the idea of self-defense.
Eric Klang, the Crow Wing County sheriff, and Bolduc, the Brainerd police chief, are allowed wide latitude under the law to determine whether a qualified applicant has a need for a permit. Both said they tend to approve permits for people who meet the law's basic requirements and state a legitimate public safety need or occupational hazard.
"As long as a person meets the requirements of the law, they should get a permit," Klang said.
Thirteen counties in this area, with about 8 percent of the state's population, are home to about half of the permits granted statewide in 2002. The approval rate in this area was 98 percent.
These statistics, like every other fact in the gun debate, are used to argue both sides.
John Caile, spokesman for Concealed Carry Reform Now, which is lobbying for changes in the law, said the statistics show the law needs to be changed. He said the "area of the greatest need" for self-defense -- higher-crime areas in the metro area -- are where permits are most difficult to get.
Granting gun permits in nonmetro Minnesota, he said, is like selling "the most snow shovels in Florida -- 10 times as many snow shovels in Florida as in Minnesota." He added that the reason there are so few applications in St. Paul and other metro cities is because gun owners believe they will be turned down.
Rebecca Thoman, executive director of Citizens for a Safer Minnesota, a gun-control group that is fighting proposed changes in the law, said the statistics show the current system accommodates both views of the gun culture.
She said that while people in rural Minnesota may "see a gun as a safety device, people in cities see a gun as being dangerous."
IS COMPROMISE POSSIBLE?
It is hard to imagine John Lenertz having a problem getting a concealed-weapon permit anywhere in the state. His job as a bail bondsman who deals with both money and criminals would appear to meet even the strictest definition of "occupational need."
Lenertz, a strong supporter of the Brainerd Police Department, has never drawn his gun and hopes he never feels the need. "The last thing that I would ever do, would be to draw out my weapons," he said. "I would never ever use deadly force unless I knew I was going to die."
But Lenertz passionately believes that Minnesota needs a uniform permitting system so that the same rules apply in Brainerd as in Frogtown. Like most knowledgeable gun owners, he believes permit-holders should be well-trained in the operation and use of firearms.
His vision of the ultimate gun need is the woman walking to her car in a darkened parking ramp, with a predator lurking in the shadows. This is as popular an image for gun-rights supporters as the road-rage shooting is for concealed weapons foes.
"If she could have been trained perhaps to carry something, she might not have had to die," Lenertz said. Lenertz regards a firearm as a useful tool, not a source of suffering.
That theme is carried through in the law enforcement building in Brainerd, where Klang has his office.
The hallways are lined with displays that you would not expect to see in an urban police station: rows upon rows of bullets, shotgun shell casings and ammo large and small, grouped by category and displayed in handsome glass cases against a green felt background. The collection was donated in memory of a local sportsman, Les Ebert.
Klang said his belief in granting permits to qualified applicants, however, does not mean he believes the weapons will do much good.
Klang said weapons are often taken from their owners and used against them, and he has doubts about how well civilians can perform when faced with the life-or-death decisions that law enforcement officials train and study for years to learn how to handle.
And the burglaries and assaults that are most common in rural Minnesota will not be stopped by carrying a weapon, Klang said.
"There's absolutely, really no reason to be carrying a gun on your person," Klang said. "But it's our Second Amendment right." He said he worries how the presence of guns at a chaotic scene will affect law enforcement. "We show up on the scene -- how are we to know who the good guys or the bad guys are?" he asked.
Ultimately, there may be no way to work out the argument for the individual right to self-defense and the position that the social good requires limits on that right. Bolduc said the current concealed-weapons law allows police and sheriff's departments to make their own interpretations.
"Maybe that's how it should be," he said.
