Pass the Whiskey and Ammo

“It’s been said that computers give human beings the easiest opportunity to make mistakes. As someone who’s worked behind a bar his whole life, I can tell you it’s actually handguns and tequila.”

Rapping philosophic here is Joseph Deluca, a guy who knows his way around the nightlife world. He’s a longtime bartender and local impresario of the Cleveland drink community, enjoying Jedi-like status among those who see bartending as an artisan calling, not just a way to pay the bills.

Today’s he’s grabbing an afternoon drink at a West Side wine bar with Darko Marinkovic, another bright light on the scene who handles the pours at Crop on West Sixth. Both guys are actively involved in the Ohio chapter of the U.S. Bartenders Guild, and they tour the country competing in drink-mixing competitions. The topic of conversation is whether guns should be allowed in Ohio’s bars and restaurants, and the industry pros have a simple answer: No.

“It’s the wrong weapon for a crowded room,” Marinkovic says bluntly. “If I’m behind the bar and you come up to me and say you’re packing, that’s not going to make my night any more comfortable.”

But this isn’t a theoretical round of wild western saloon what-if. There’s legislation weaving through the state capitol right now that would allow permitted gun owners to carry concealed firearms in restaurants or bars as long as they’re not drinking. That means next time you’re crowding the countertop and reaching for that next draft, you just might rub elbows with someone’s 9 millimeter.

A similar proposal worked through the greased wheels of the legislature last year, but stalled before the clock ran out on the session. This year, versions of the bill were introduced in both the House and Senate. In mid-April, the Senate version passed; its cousin in the House — known on the floor as HB 45 — has been voted out of committee and now awaits a final vote. Right now it’s not clear whether the bill has the support for final passage; a vote could come later in the session or tomorrow.

But so far the bill’s steady march into the lawbooks hasn’t slowed, despite the vocal pushback of opponents from seemingly all corners. With both chambers of Congress bleeding Republican red, supporters have blissfully parasailed over any counter-arguments or concerns.

Back here on Earth, Ohio’s cops, bartenders, and patrons are left shaking their heads, wondering what happened.

A Strange Place

“Mixing guns and alcohol under any circumstance is wrong, it’s dangerous, and people are going to get hurt,” says Steve Loomis, head of the Cleveland Police Patrolmen’s Association and part of a loud chorus of law enforcement officials who oppose the bill. Responsible gun owners aren’t the problem, Loomis is careful to point out. He supported Ohio’s original 2004 conceal and carry law. But putting guns into a situation with alcohol is always a bad recipe.

“Innocent people are going to be the ones who get hurt,” he says. “When two drunken idiots start pulling guns on each other because they’re trying to pick up the same girl at the bar, it’s not going to be either one of them [that’s injured]; it’s going to be the waitress sitting in the corner minding her own business.”

The legislation shouldn’t be a surprise. Bills of the same vein have passed recently in Tennessee, Georgia, Arizona, and Virginia, often kicking up public street fights between the gun lobby and its eternal opponents. In Ohio, following the Republican rise to power of 2010, the bill is part of a legislative lineup that includes highly politicized hits on collective bargaining and abortion rights. The partisan lines have been cut in the sand, and Columbus regulars say the guns-in-bars bill epitomizes the polarized Bizarro otherworldliness of the capitol these days.

“It’s a strange place down there right now,” says Toby Hoover, executive director of the Ohio Coalition Against Gun Violence. A longtime regulation guru, Hoover’s been in the trenches trying to convince lawmakers to either chuck the law or at least include provisions that would tighten restrictions. One such proposal involves letting establishments opt to allow carry within their walls rather than extending the policy across the board. Nobody’s buying. “They don’t seem to want to listen,” she says.

Hoover isn’t the only one talking into blank faces.

“There seems to be this puzzling passion and zeal to get this done,” says Phil Craig, executive director of the Ohio Licensed Beverage Association, an organization that lobbies in Columbus for more than 1,000 drink slingers and bar owners. “We see it as a very, very dangerous precedent.”

Craig’s group has also been trying to communicate the concerns of the hospitality industry to legislators. Working mostly behind closed doors in one-on-one chats with state reps, he’s made the case that such legislation is simply “bad public policy” because it adds firearms to an environment that’s already rife with disorderly and sometimes violent behavior.

As it’s currently written, the law would allow gun-shy bars and restaurants only one recourse: posting signs prohibiting firearms from the premises. Owners and operators aren’t happy with that option, Craig says.

“We’re so sick of putting up signs. ‘No Smoking,’ ‘Watch how much you drink,’ ‘No guns allowed.’ We’re supposed to be the last repository of fun in the state of Ohio, and it’s not a very welcoming sight to see all those negative signs.”

The situation has left Craig slightly exasperated.

“We have violent acts perpetrated in bars already,” he explains. “If those violent acts were matched with a firearm, they’d turn deadly. There’s no sense in it.”

Ironically, those violent acts already breaking out in bars are the reason supporters say the law is necessary. In their eyes, public spaces are war zones waiting to erupt, and a prepared defense is the only option.

Everybody’s Doing It

The Senate bill’s sponsor, Lancaster Republican Tim Schaffer, agrees that alcohol and guns don’t mix. Permit holders aren’t allowed to drink if they’re carrying, he points out; if they do, they risk a felony conviction. But guns are already in the bars, Schaffer claims. The legislation simply allows well-trained and law-abiding citizens the opportunity to defend themselves.

The argument stands more on examples than statistics. Schaffer and other proponents truck out instances when violence inside bars and restaurants claimed lives but could have been prevented had trained permit holders on the scene had their firearms in a holster — not locked away in the car or at home.

“When you go out to eat tonight, there will probably be a gun within a couple tables of you, and no one knows it except for the person who’s carrying it,” Schaffer says. “There are guns out there, and that scares me when you talk about the thugs and criminals that have them when the rest of us are unarmed. Why shouldn’t the law-abiding families of this state have an equal chance?”

Also key to the pro-carry argument is the idea that Ohio isn’t going it alone on this one. Throughout the debate, representatives from the gun lobby have suggested Ohio is among a small minority of states that regulate this arena — although the numbers fluctuate. It’s been reported that 40, 46, 38, and 42 states allow permit holders to carry inside restaurants or bars. Depends on whom you ask.

“I’m very comfortable with saying 42 states allow some form or another of carry into a facility serving alcohol,” says Ken Hanson, an attorney with the Buckeye Firearms Association. “The vast majority [of states] have already conclusively demonstrated that this isn’t a problem.”

But these figures involve some semantic tap dancing. The number 42 has been determined by looking at what the statutes don’t say as much as how the fine print reads. Only eight states — including Ohio, for the moment — specifically prohibit guns in bars and restaurants. According to The New York Times, 18 states allow carry inside restaurants only, but with nuanced clarifications: 5 of those states prohibit carrying inside the part of restaurants “primarily devoted” to consumption (translation: the bar). Some define restaurants and bars differently based on operating hours or how much revenue an establishment takes in on liquor alone. Likewise, Michigan allows concealed carry in restaurants, but prohibits it in joints “where the primary source of income of the business is the sale of alcoholic liquor by the glass.”

Twenty other states are mum on the issue of guns in watering holes. But just because the statutes are silent doesn’t mean there aren’t stopgaps elsewhere. California, for example, doesn’t have a law specifically prohibiting guns in bars, but the state’s application for a concealed-carry license clearly prohibits it. Still others leave the matter in the hands of local municipalities.

Arms Race Brewing?

The fact that such a seemingly straightforward question — how many states allow guns in bars? — yields a string of foggy answers is indicative of the whole debate. An issue like gun rights is hotwired with emotion; oftentimes both sides seem not only like they’re talking in different languages, but living on different planets. But if there’s middle ground where the two interests intersect, Larry Funderburk is standing on it.

As the general manager of Peabody’s concert club downtown, he gets a weekly dose of barroom disturbances and headaches. But he’s also an active member of the National Rifle Association and a permit holder who’s constantly carrying — even in the workplace. (Under current law, concealed-carry permit holders can pack heat in an establishment if their name is on the liquor license.)

In Funderburk’s eyes, the bar is the one place guns don’t belong. “Once you’re inside that establishment, it’s the establishment’s responsibility to keep you safe,” he says. “In the end, we’re going to have more liabilities.”

Should guns-in-bars become law, Funderburk foresees an arms race: In response to a clientele that’s packing, owners will outfit their security staff with firearms. That means more iron in establishments that already host human behavior at its most unleashed. “I don’t like the thought of it at all,” he says.

But on the other side of the table, personal rights trump public safety in the eyes of the bill’s proponents. The Buckeye Firearms Association’s Hanson admits he doesn’t know whether the legislation will make establishments safer.

“I’m not concerned about making the establishment safer. I’m concerned about protecting my family,” he says. “And yes, it makes my family safer.”

This article appears in Apr 27 – May 3, 2011.