"It was a tight, dry, polite, cruel smile of a town." - Sinclair Lewis
Temple – This sprawling Santa Fe division yard got over its hell town ways in previous centuries. Gone are the six-shooter, the bowie, and the bullwhip, so they say.
But lately, times have changed in certain ways, and the sentiment runs high in the country to tote the gun, as in days of yesteryear.
The city dads don't dig that at all. Concealed carry handgun licenses don't make up for the fact that people start vibrating when they see a firearm carried openly.
Folks complain. They want something done about it.
Guns don't go with church, the emergency room, the school, the courtroom, or city hall. That's why they made a section of the law, 30.06 (thirty ought six), that requires a placard prominently placed to let concealed handgunners know their iron has to be left outside when they do business therein.
Signs advising the public where and how to obtain public information are also required in offices where officials serve as custodians of record.
When Legendary Minister of Irritation R.S. Gates is on the case, the final straw is usually the demand that the hard head on the other side of the plank should put up a sign – as required by the Attorney General – that explains how to get that police report, that court record, that public document the honchos are so particular about handing out to just anyone.
Like some picaresque character in an ancient saga, C.J. Grisham, home from the wars with a Master Sergeant's chevrons sewed on his tunic, strolled into the picture with an AR-15 assault rifle strapped across his chest, GI style.
It scared the hell out of someone, and that someone called the law. When the gen' d'armes arrived, they gleefully relieved him of his rifle, a concealed .45 and the very concealed permit that allows him to carry that hawg leg up under his clothes.
Our man Gates wants to see the police dash camera recording, which is a no go because the event is still under investigation, and it might chill the atmosphere for confidential informants and witnesses who call in on folks like Sgt. Grisham.
It says here.
Type-written and sent directly by an Assistant Attorney General, no less.
Then there was the tussle over the affidavit of probable cause, the one that says the Sergeant was rudely displaying the weapon in a manner likely to cause alarm – a lower division subsection of the disorderly conduct statute – with high right English.
Gates finally prevailed in that one. When he got the document, it had claw marks all over it.
When he went one step beyond and got on the Deputy City Attorney's nerves, she let him know how the cow eat the cabbage, said if anyone is the public, it's him, and that's how come that public information law exists, to keep people of his “ilk” - she actually used that word – from getting hold of the records on this pending case.
And then about 200 people armed with AR-15 assault rifles showed up a week ago Saturday to parade around City Hall, the Police Department, and other power spots in the old railroad town.
And so, Mr. Gates paid the City Council a visit on Thursday afternoon, June 6 – the once and future longest day of summer that marked that D-Day invasion of Normandy, to talk about the 30.06 signs, their size, and to inquire where the public information signs might be located.
Onwards. Through the fog.
Regardez! This YouTube presentation makes one think of the classic scene in the western, the one when the townspeople rally to fight back against Bad Jack.