Taking Advantage of the Statehouse

Yesterday I needed to take a trip to the Ohio Statehouse for a look at some of the stuff available in their Museum Gift Shop.

Little did I know that by doing so I was taking unfair advantage of them.

Really.

For any new readers, the full history of the Statehouse’s ban on bare feet can be read by looking at all my entries in the Statehouse category on this blog. (The “Statehouse” is what the Ohio State Capitol Building is called.) The short version is that they didn’t used to have a rule. One day I was walking through when I was stopped by a State Trooper (the place is crawling with them) and told I needed to have shoes on. I knew otherwise, and eventually the Trooper called those who run the place (the Capitol Square Review and Advisory Board, CSRAB) who confirmed for him there was no rule, so he let me go.

But then the Board, instigated by their Chairman, former Senate President Dick Finan, decided that I was sullying the place by being barefoot, so they went about creating a rule. And then undid that because they hadn’t followed the proper procedure (as I pointed out to them). So I got at least another year before they finally did institute their shoe rule. Through the help of you blog readers, we inundated them with letters (ok, email) and there were a few news stories, but in the end they did what they wanted to do, and the rule went into effect.

However, there is a provision for a waiver. (This applies to Statehouse rules in general, not just the shoe rule.) So, I took advantage of it, as you can read about in Statehouse Redux. That blog entry also contains a copy of the waiver form. I took advantage of the waiver by attending the very first Board meeting after the barefoot rule was enacted—barefoot.

A fat lot of good their new rule did, aside from making it difficult, for both them and me. By the way, my “good cause” for the waiver is

Going barefoot alleviates my foot, knee, and hip pains. Shoes make my body hurt. I also require the increased proprioception that going barefoot allows, and direct contact with the surface I am walking on helps me keep my balance.

It works. But I have to get the waiver for each time I visit the Statehouse. I’d tried to get a perpetual waiver, but they wouldn’t go for that—the best I’ve managed is a waiver for a week, when I wasn’t sure which day I’d be visiting. But I’ve used the waiver on and off.

This time I figured it might be different. Since I generally didn’t know what day I’d head down and try to entry the Statehouse (sometimes I’d be downtown for another reason and just want to go in; it’s a pretty neat place). I’d walk in (unguarded doors), head down to the CRSAB offices, and get my waiver for that day signed. A silly, extra step, but if they are going to make a silly rule, I am going to make them do the extra work to enforce it.

But this time I figured it might be different. The Statehouse had quite recently instituted new security rules. All of the doors are guarded by State Troopers.

You might read this story, Security tightening throughout Statehouse in the Columbus Dispatch, this story, Lobbyists get special ID card to bypass new statehouse security, or watch this video about the special new bulletproof desks the Troopers get to stand behind.

 

But I knew I’d have to go by a State Trooper to get in even to get my waiver. I hoped I’d either be able to talk the Trooper into letting me head straight to the CSRAB office, or have me wait there while they were fetched to sign my waiver.

I entered the building. Their was a sign saying that the Trooper would inspect any briefcases or packages. I opened my briefcase, and he looked carefully inside with a really bright and cute LED flashlight. And then I continued in. I don’t even know if he noticed that I was barefoot.

At that point I could have headed directly to the Museum Gift Shop, but hey, if they’re going to have a waiver program, I should make them go through the hassle of using it. So I went to the CSRAB office, where their Executive Director (who I’ve dealt with before) just happened to be standing outside their door.

William Carleton, Executive Director of CSRAB

So I asked him to sign my waiver.

“No.”

“What???!!?? Why not?”

“Because you’re just taking advantage of us.”

“Huh???!!??!”

Yup. That’s what he said. By trying to get my waiver for that day I was talking advantage of the Statehouse.

I told him that I really didn’t schedule these things much in advance. (True—I’d only decided the previous evening that yesterday was the day. I, we, shouldn’t have to make an appointment to visit our state capitol buildings!) He doubted me (I don’t know why).

OK, his reason for being upset wasn’t quite as ridiculous as being offended that I was taking advantage of them (even though that’s how the conversation started). He claimed that I was required to get 24 hours notice. Now, I was pretty sure there was nothing in the rules about that, and told him so. In fact, I reminded him that the very last time I got a waiver, in July, I had done exactly the same thing. You can read about that visit of mine in Into the “People’s” House. (Yes, folks, I took “advantage of the Statehouse” by visiting it twice this year.)

He denied it . . . but then kind of thought about it. After all, the new security rules had gone into effect since my last visit.

By the way, this is what the rules actually do say about a waiver:

These rules may be waived by the executive director, chairman, or their designees for good cause shown. Any person wishing to obtain a waiver of board rules must contact the board, in writing, within a reasonable time in advance of the event.

Notice how it describes “the event”? Those rules are really written for getting permits and stuff for things like rallies, or for large groups. For such an event they might have to set up extra security, or block off certain areas of the Statehouse. But seriously, what is “a reasonable time” for them to prepare for a barefooted person to visit?

Well, he went on to describe how (with a bit of prompting from me), with the State Troopers they had to include in their morning notice that a barefooted person would be arriving and to let him through. OK, I guess I can kind of see that (modulo the silliness of having the rule in the first place).

He did want to know just what door I’d come in at. Uh-oh. I think one of the State Troopers is in trouble . . .

So then he signed the waiver for the day. And went to make a copy of it. When he came back out to give me my copy (which, seriously, I didn’t really need at that point, did I?), I tried to nail down just how I was supposed to get my waiver in a timely fashion. After all, I would think that access to the seat of state government would be a fundamental right that really should not be unreasonably denied. I asked if I could email them a copy of the waiver the day before, and we pretty much established that I could do so, they’d sign it, scan it, and then send it back. So at least I would not be dependent on mail service.

And then I went to the Museum Gift Shop, got my items (25% off!), and left.

Nobody challenged me. I even talked a bit to a few state representatives who happened to be standing in line with me. I don’t even know if they noticed my bare feet.

You know, if it really comes to my being denied reasonable access, I’d sure think about suing the Statehouse. But the executive director is a pretty smart guy, knows my reputation for lawsuits 🙂 , and pretty reasonable, at least when I don’t surprise him, I guess. He’s kind of caught between the Board and me (I’m not sure if I’m the “rock” or the “hard place”), and he’s just trying to make it work and not give me cause to do something more drastic.

And he is succeeding.

 

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