A People’s Barrier for the People’s Vulnerable Capitol

About 1 million people stroll through California’s Capitol every year. Not just politicians, lobbyists and reporters--but ordinary citizens, gawking wide-eyed at grandeur and history.

They include maybe 200,000 schoolkids on 4,000 tours, smiling, giggling, intrigued especially by the window displays for each county and the echo-chamber rotunda under a dome that rises 20 stories.

Fortunately, none were around at 9:26 Tuesday night when a mental misfit with a criminal record rammed his tractor-trailer rig into the south portico, igniting diesel fuel into a towering sheet of flames, right under the vacant Senate chamber.

Also fortunate was that the driver didn’t wait another 10 minutes, when hundreds of legislative staffers would have been pouring out of the Capitol--many through that south portico--after an urgent Assembly session on electricity. Lucky, too, that he didn’t attack the Capitol’s north side, where the Assembly was meeting.

On Wednesday, there was a new tourist attraction for the visitors. Behind a hurriedly erected cyclone fence, they stared at--and photographed--a charred truck cab with corpse, wedged between two giant, sheared, granite pillars.

The long trailer extended backward down steps onto a walkway. “Quality on-time service,” read a sign across its side.

Workers with “FBI” written on their backs shoveled up countless cans of evaporated milk, the truck’s heated cargo that had kept exploding during the night like firecrackers. Soot smudged the Capitol’s normally white side, top to bottom.

Inside--behind yellow police tape--the deluxe tour featured a visit to the Senate Rules Committee room. The seats, carpet, ceiling all had been destroyed by flames and water damage. Nosed through a big window was the twisted truck radiator.

The old Capitol had taken quite a hit and, all in all, held its own. Like an awesome defensive line on a football team that had stopped a 270-lb. running back. The Granite Wall.

But you wouldn’t want to chance this again. Not any time soon. Not ever.

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Immediately there were renewed calls for erection of a barrier around the Capitol. “They’re not pretty, but they pretty much stop trucks,” commented Sean Walsh, spokesman for former Gov. Pete Wilson.

Wilson advocated building a barrier after the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. He pushed for a $3.5-million security fence, four feet high with an 18-inch granite base, topped by ornate wrought iron. Handsome, actually. A similar fence surrounded the Capitol from 1881 to 1949, but was removed to improve citizen access.

As Wilson was leaving office in 1998, legislators--Democrats--booted out the proposed barrier with him.

One was veteran Assemblyman Lou Papan (D-Millbrae), first elected in 1972. Surveying the damage Wednesday, Papan said he’s still opposed.

“We’re a democracy,” he asserted. “I don’t want to give the impression we’re anything but an open society. Those of us here have to bear the risks. Sometimes you put up too much security and [the crazies] accept that as a challenge. Even a barrier won’t stop them.”

Senate leader John Burton (D-San Francisco) also opposed the barrier two years ago, but on Wednesday there were chips in his resistance.

“About the only thing I wouldn’t mind seeing is some low concrete barriers,” Burton said. “But I’m not for a lot of fences. This is the people’s Capitol. If somebody really wanted to do something, they could rent a room over [across the street], knock the window out and fire a stinger missile into the Capitol.”

But an increasing number of lawmakers now say they’d be satisfied with just stopping an 18-wheeler.

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“I might come from South-Central L.A., but I’m not stupid,” said Assemblyman Rod Wright (D-Los Angeles). “We probably should build the fence. Being from South-Central, I’ve always been sensitive to my surroundings, my safety.”

Assembly Rules Committee Chairman Dennis Cordoza (D-Merced)--whose panel oversees security--said he not only favors a barrier, but wants to consider metal detectors.

Call it the march of so-called civilization--the ill effects of increasing population, societal violence and deadly weapons. Even big rigs.

“In the real world, there are people who are terrorists and people who are deranged,” Wilson noted Wednesday. “Whether we like it or not, government buildings are targets. If [politicians] aren’t worried about their own safety, they should worry about their employees and tourists.”

And school kids. Regrettably, it’s time to build that barrier.