WHY I CARRY While politicians debate concealed weapons laws, we decided to ask a few Texans why they are legally carrying guns
By Michael Precker Dallas Morning News
Published 07-09-2000
More than 200,000 Texans can legally carry a handgun. Under the law that took effect in 1996, they have undergone training, passed a background check and obtained a license from the state allowing them to conceal a weapon on their bodies almost anywhere they go.
Depending on your point of view, that either makes Texas a trigger-happy state reverting to dangerous Wild West values, or a place where criminals had better think twice before victimizing responsible people ready and able to defend themselves.
Those conflicting images are frequently invoked in the national debate over gun control. And they have become an issue in this year's presidential campaign, where Gov. George W. Bush is being praised - and criticized - for the Texas law that he supported and signed five years ago.
As the political wrangling goes on, we asked area residents who have a Concealed Handgun License to explain why they carry guns and how the Texas law has affected their lives.
Many license holders prefer not to be quoted and photographed. Some distrust the media to tell their story fairly. Others take the principle of concealment very seriously.
"The whole idea is not to let the criminal element know who's carrying and who's not," one man says.
But others were willing to share their stories.
WHO'S CARRYING A GUN?
The Texas Department of Public Safety, which administers the Concealed Handgun License program, keeps up-to-date statistics on CHL holders in Texas. Here are some highlights:
* As of June 8, 212,382 people have active licenses. Since 1996 the state has revoked 1,053 licenses, suspended 373 licenses and denied 3,035 applications.
* There are 20,953 license holders in Dallas County, 16,934 in Tarrant County, 5,463 in Collin County and 4,730 in Denton County. The ZIP code 75043, which is in Garland, has the most license holders of any ZIP code in Texas, with 833. ZIP codes near Houston are second and third, followed by 75150 in Mesquite, with 755, and 75052 in Grand Prairie, with 753.
* Ages of license holders range from the minimum age of 21 (206 people) to 97 (one person). The most common age is 53 (7,014 people).
* Just over four-fifths of all license holders, 171,054, are men. The 41,328 women comprise 19.4 percent of the total.
* More than 91 percent of license holders - 194,581 people - are classified as white, a category that also includes Hispanics. Nearly 4.5 percent, or 9,436 people, are black, and 1.3 percent, or 2,833 people, are Asian. The remainder are classified as multiracial, American Indian, Alaskan native, other or unknown.
- Michael Precker
"The cops can't be everywhere.'
About the time that Kim and Ray Clawson inherited a gun collection from her father, they moved to a new house in a Dallas suburb.
"I really didn't think it would appeal to me," says Ms. Clawson, 42, a maternity ward nurse at Parkland hospital. "But I figured if we were going to have them in the house, we needed to know how to safeguard them and how to use them."
Mr. Clawson, a 45-year-old pilot who flies cargo planes, says there had been a couple of murders in the area, "and that got us thinking about our safety."
"The cops can't be everywhere," he says. "It seemed like a natural thing to go out and get concealed handgun permits."
So both Clawsons took classes and received licenses. They enjoy shooting at a gun range every few weeks to keep their skills sharp, but don't carry guns that often.
"It is nice to know you can have a gun in your car," Mr. Clawson says. "When you're someplace you're not familiar with, it's a little comforting to know it's there. But if you ever pull it out, you could end up in trouble, and we know that."
They're also careful at home, where a gun safe is locked and bolted to the floor.
"When I come in the house it goes right out of my purse and into the safe," Ms. Clawson says.
Not all of her friends understand. "You talk about your hobbies and sometimes guns come up," she says. "And they say, "What do you want to be, Billy the Kid or something?'
"I tell them you really ought to try it sometime. It's really kind of fun. It's not my only hobby. I garden, I crochet, I bake cookies. But with a little proficiency [with guns], you feel a little more secure."
"When you're unarmed, that's frightening.'
Dave Zukosky learned to shoot as a kid and always kept a gun at home for protection. But in 1994, before Texas had a concealed handgun law (CHL), he was twice threatened on the highway by people waving a gun.
"The only thing between me and him was two panes of glass and air," says Mr. Zukosky, 35, who debugs software at Nortel. "I was obeying the law [by not carrying a gun], but not everybody out there does. When you're unarmed, that's frightening."
So when Texas approved concealed handgun licenses, he got one.
"I want to have the ability to protect myself and my family," Mr. Zukosky says. "In order to do that, I will do what the state says."
He doesn't take his gun to work, where weapons are not allowed, but prefers not to elaborate beyond that.
"I don't want people to know if I'm carrying or not," Mr. Zukosky says. "When I go out, it'll be a brief thought: "Where am I going? Do I need this?' "
Carrying a gun, Mr. Zukosky says, has made him more careful and more observant.
"With the privilege of carrying comes a greater responsibility," he says. "I used to be more confrontational. I'd get in your face. Now that I have a CHL, I'm less like that. I don't know what they're carrying and I want to resolve any confrontations."
Every month or so, he goes to a range to practice.
"Each time I go, I hope and pray I'll never have to use what I practice," he says. "And I haven't."
"I want to protect myself.'
Growing up in Decatur, Helen Rhine could hardly avoid Texas gun culture. Her sister got a gun for her 16th birthday.
"But I was more into archery," she says.
Years later, living in Connecticut, she changed her mind.
"My son was in college, my ex and I had split up and I was living alone," says Ms. Rhine, 58, who writes software for cellular phone switches at Alcatel. "I'm a Capricorn and very security-minded. It seemed like another form of insurance."
She took lessons, joined a gun club and got a handgun permit in Connecticut.
"When you learn how to handle it and the responsibility, it changes your attitude," she says. "I've never shot at anything except a paper target and I don't want to. But I want to protect myself."
When Ms. Rhine wanted to return to Texas four years ago, the concealed handgun license law made her decision easier. "I was hesitant before they passed the law," she says. "I've lived in New York, where you can't have a gun, and I wouldn't do that again."
She usually carries a gun only after dark, when she has to come home to a house in a rural area. She also keeps a weapon handy in her bedroom at night - which does not require a license from the state.
Ms. Rhine jokes about her holster, an elastic and lace undergarment she made herself. "There was nothing like this out there," she says, adding, "Sorry, you can't see it."
But what's inside the holster is a serious matter.
"To me, a gun is like a fire extinguisher," she says. "I never had a fire in the house, and if there's a fire I'll call trained professionals to put it out. I'd prefer that they deal with it. But if they're not here yet, I still have a fire extinguisher."
"I never want to be a victim'
Jana Lang was a young, single businesswoman in Tulsa, living in an area where a rapist was on the loose.
"My boyfriend bought me a snub-nosed gun, took me out to the range and taught me to shoot," she says. "The last thing I want to do is shoot somebody, but I want the right to protect myself."
Ms. Lang, who moved to Texas in 1987, shares that message nearly every weekend. She teaches Concealed Handgun License classes at the DFW Gun Range and Training Center and gives private shooting lessons.
"At first I taught mostly men," she says. "Then they'd say, "My wife won't come in. But she wouldn't be uncomfortable learning from you.'
"I'm very motivated if I can help somebody protect themselves," says Ms. Lang, who's 46. "It makes me feel good that I'm contributing to society."
She carries her gun nearly everywhere, including to her weekday job as executive assistant to the vice president of a bank.
"They're fine with it," she says. "My boss thinks it's neat they have a bodyguard."
Her boyfriend, she says, concurs.
"He's 6-3, and he has a CHL," Ms. Lang says. "But he never carries because he knows I'll take care of him."
She laughs at the flippant remark, but she takes her mission seriously. She has kicked people out of her class for being reckless or cavalier and stresses the obligation of gun owners to be safe and responsible.
Ms. Lang says she has never needed to pull her gun, but that doesn't diminish the importance of having one.
"I never want to be a victim," she says. "Ever."
"I don't even think about it'
Randell Galloway got his first rifle at age 6 and grew up knowing how to use a gun. But in 1980, waiting for a bus outside his Navy base in San Diego, he was unarmed when a teenager stuck a gun in his face and took his wallet.
He vowed it would never happen again.
"Unless you have it on you, what good is it?" says Mr. Galloway, 41, a computer manager and e-mail analyst at the University of North Texas. "If you need it and it's in the safe, it's just an expensive hunk of metal."
When he lived in California, he carried an unlicensed gun and risked a misdemeanor violation. After he moved to Texas, he kept a packed suitcase in his car, so he could tell police he was traveling - one of the circumstances under which Texans could carry guns without a license.
Since obtaining a concealed handgun license, he carries a weapon almost everywhere - "I don't even think about it, I just take it" - except to work. The university does not allow guns on campus.
"That's their rule, and I respect it," Mr. Galloway says. "But I think it's ludicrous having a gun-free zone. They might as well post a big sign saying, "Hey, criminals, we're all disarmed.' "
A couple of years ago, someone took the screen off the front window of his home and was about to break in. But the would-be burglar saw the barrel of a gun and fled.
Otherwise, Mr. Galloway has never needed to unholster his weapon, which is fine with him.
"You get it in case you need it, not because you want to use it," he says. "Believe me, when I carry a gun, I'm carrying the weight of the world."
Illustrations/Photos: PHOTO(S): 1. (Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) A couple of murders in their area started Kim and Ray Clawson thinking more about their personal safety. 2. Dave Zukosky says carrying a gun has made him less confrontational. 3. (The Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) Jana Lang, with a Kahr MK9 semiautomatic pistol, is an executive assistant to a bank vice president and a Concealed Handgun License instructor. 4. (The Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) Randell Galloway of Denton wears his gun on his hip. He carries extra ammunition, which explains the large pack on his belt. "Unless you have it on you, what good is it?" he says. 5. "When you learn how to handle it and the responsibility, it changes your attitude," says Helen Rhine.
By Michael Precker Dallas Morning News
Published 07-09-2000
More than 200,000 Texans can legally carry a handgun. Under the law that took effect in 1996, they have undergone training, passed a background check and obtained a license from the state allowing them to conceal a weapon on their bodies almost anywhere they go.
Depending on your point of view, that either makes Texas a trigger-happy state reverting to dangerous Wild West values, or a place where criminals had better think twice before victimizing responsible people ready and able to defend themselves.
Those conflicting images are frequently invoked in the national debate over gun control. And they have become an issue in this year's presidential campaign, where Gov. George W. Bush is being praised - and criticized - for the Texas law that he supported and signed five years ago.
As the political wrangling goes on, we asked area residents who have a Concealed Handgun License to explain why they carry guns and how the Texas law has affected their lives.
Many license holders prefer not to be quoted and photographed. Some distrust the media to tell their story fairly. Others take the principle of concealment very seriously.
"The whole idea is not to let the criminal element know who's carrying and who's not," one man says.
But others were willing to share their stories.
WHO'S CARRYING A GUN?
The Texas Department of Public Safety, which administers the Concealed Handgun License program, keeps up-to-date statistics on CHL holders in Texas. Here are some highlights:
* As of June 8, 212,382 people have active licenses. Since 1996 the state has revoked 1,053 licenses, suspended 373 licenses and denied 3,035 applications.
* There are 20,953 license holders in Dallas County, 16,934 in Tarrant County, 5,463 in Collin County and 4,730 in Denton County. The ZIP code 75043, which is in Garland, has the most license holders of any ZIP code in Texas, with 833. ZIP codes near Houston are second and third, followed by 75150 in Mesquite, with 755, and 75052 in Grand Prairie, with 753.
* Ages of license holders range from the minimum age of 21 (206 people) to 97 (one person). The most common age is 53 (7,014 people).
* Just over four-fifths of all license holders, 171,054, are men. The 41,328 women comprise 19.4 percent of the total.
* More than 91 percent of license holders - 194,581 people - are classified as white, a category that also includes Hispanics. Nearly 4.5 percent, or 9,436 people, are black, and 1.3 percent, or 2,833 people, are Asian. The remainder are classified as multiracial, American Indian, Alaskan native, other or unknown.
- Michael Precker
"The cops can't be everywhere.'
About the time that Kim and Ray Clawson inherited a gun collection from her father, they moved to a new house in a Dallas suburb.
"I really didn't think it would appeal to me," says Ms. Clawson, 42, a maternity ward nurse at Parkland hospital. "But I figured if we were going to have them in the house, we needed to know how to safeguard them and how to use them."
Mr. Clawson, a 45-year-old pilot who flies cargo planes, says there had been a couple of murders in the area, "and that got us thinking about our safety."
"The cops can't be everywhere," he says. "It seemed like a natural thing to go out and get concealed handgun permits."
So both Clawsons took classes and received licenses. They enjoy shooting at a gun range every few weeks to keep their skills sharp, but don't carry guns that often.
"It is nice to know you can have a gun in your car," Mr. Clawson says. "When you're someplace you're not familiar with, it's a little comforting to know it's there. But if you ever pull it out, you could end up in trouble, and we know that."
They're also careful at home, where a gun safe is locked and bolted to the floor.
"When I come in the house it goes right out of my purse and into the safe," Ms. Clawson says.
Not all of her friends understand. "You talk about your hobbies and sometimes guns come up," she says. "And they say, "What do you want to be, Billy the Kid or something?'
"I tell them you really ought to try it sometime. It's really kind of fun. It's not my only hobby. I garden, I crochet, I bake cookies. But with a little proficiency [with guns], you feel a little more secure."
"When you're unarmed, that's frightening.'
Dave Zukosky learned to shoot as a kid and always kept a gun at home for protection. But in 1994, before Texas had a concealed handgun law (CHL), he was twice threatened on the highway by people waving a gun.
"The only thing between me and him was two panes of glass and air," says Mr. Zukosky, 35, who debugs software at Nortel. "I was obeying the law [by not carrying a gun], but not everybody out there does. When you're unarmed, that's frightening."
So when Texas approved concealed handgun licenses, he got one.
"I want to have the ability to protect myself and my family," Mr. Zukosky says. "In order to do that, I will do what the state says."
He doesn't take his gun to work, where weapons are not allowed, but prefers not to elaborate beyond that.
"I don't want people to know if I'm carrying or not," Mr. Zukosky says. "When I go out, it'll be a brief thought: "Where am I going? Do I need this?' "
Carrying a gun, Mr. Zukosky says, has made him more careful and more observant.
"With the privilege of carrying comes a greater responsibility," he says. "I used to be more confrontational. I'd get in your face. Now that I have a CHL, I'm less like that. I don't know what they're carrying and I want to resolve any confrontations."
Every month or so, he goes to a range to practice.
"Each time I go, I hope and pray I'll never have to use what I practice," he says. "And I haven't."
"I want to protect myself.'
Growing up in Decatur, Helen Rhine could hardly avoid Texas gun culture. Her sister got a gun for her 16th birthday.
"But I was more into archery," she says.
Years later, living in Connecticut, she changed her mind.
"My son was in college, my ex and I had split up and I was living alone," says Ms. Rhine, 58, who writes software for cellular phone switches at Alcatel. "I'm a Capricorn and very security-minded. It seemed like another form of insurance."
She took lessons, joined a gun club and got a handgun permit in Connecticut.
"When you learn how to handle it and the responsibility, it changes your attitude," she says. "I've never shot at anything except a paper target and I don't want to. But I want to protect myself."
When Ms. Rhine wanted to return to Texas four years ago, the concealed handgun license law made her decision easier. "I was hesitant before they passed the law," she says. "I've lived in New York, where you can't have a gun, and I wouldn't do that again."
She usually carries a gun only after dark, when she has to come home to a house in a rural area. She also keeps a weapon handy in her bedroom at night - which does not require a license from the state.
Ms. Rhine jokes about her holster, an elastic and lace undergarment she made herself. "There was nothing like this out there," she says, adding, "Sorry, you can't see it."
But what's inside the holster is a serious matter.
"To me, a gun is like a fire extinguisher," she says. "I never had a fire in the house, and if there's a fire I'll call trained professionals to put it out. I'd prefer that they deal with it. But if they're not here yet, I still have a fire extinguisher."
"I never want to be a victim'
Jana Lang was a young, single businesswoman in Tulsa, living in an area where a rapist was on the loose.
"My boyfriend bought me a snub-nosed gun, took me out to the range and taught me to shoot," she says. "The last thing I want to do is shoot somebody, but I want the right to protect myself."
Ms. Lang, who moved to Texas in 1987, shares that message nearly every weekend. She teaches Concealed Handgun License classes at the DFW Gun Range and Training Center and gives private shooting lessons.
"At first I taught mostly men," she says. "Then they'd say, "My wife won't come in. But she wouldn't be uncomfortable learning from you.'
"I'm very motivated if I can help somebody protect themselves," says Ms. Lang, who's 46. "It makes me feel good that I'm contributing to society."
She carries her gun nearly everywhere, including to her weekday job as executive assistant to the vice president of a bank.
"They're fine with it," she says. "My boss thinks it's neat they have a bodyguard."
Her boyfriend, she says, concurs.
"He's 6-3, and he has a CHL," Ms. Lang says. "But he never carries because he knows I'll take care of him."
She laughs at the flippant remark, but she takes her mission seriously. She has kicked people out of her class for being reckless or cavalier and stresses the obligation of gun owners to be safe and responsible.
Ms. Lang says she has never needed to pull her gun, but that doesn't diminish the importance of having one.
"I never want to be a victim," she says. "Ever."
"I don't even think about it'
Randell Galloway got his first rifle at age 6 and grew up knowing how to use a gun. But in 1980, waiting for a bus outside his Navy base in San Diego, he was unarmed when a teenager stuck a gun in his face and took his wallet.
He vowed it would never happen again.
"Unless you have it on you, what good is it?" says Mr. Galloway, 41, a computer manager and e-mail analyst at the University of North Texas. "If you need it and it's in the safe, it's just an expensive hunk of metal."
When he lived in California, he carried an unlicensed gun and risked a misdemeanor violation. After he moved to Texas, he kept a packed suitcase in his car, so he could tell police he was traveling - one of the circumstances under which Texans could carry guns without a license.
Since obtaining a concealed handgun license, he carries a weapon almost everywhere - "I don't even think about it, I just take it" - except to work. The university does not allow guns on campus.
"That's their rule, and I respect it," Mr. Galloway says. "But I think it's ludicrous having a gun-free zone. They might as well post a big sign saying, "Hey, criminals, we're all disarmed.' "
A couple of years ago, someone took the screen off the front window of his home and was about to break in. But the would-be burglar saw the barrel of a gun and fled.
Otherwise, Mr. Galloway has never needed to unholster his weapon, which is fine with him.
"You get it in case you need it, not because you want to use it," he says. "Believe me, when I carry a gun, I'm carrying the weight of the world."
Illustrations/Photos: PHOTO(S): 1. (Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) A couple of murders in their area started Kim and Ray Clawson thinking more about their personal safety. 2. Dave Zukosky says carrying a gun has made him less confrontational. 3. (The Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) Jana Lang, with a Kahr MK9 semiautomatic pistol, is an executive assistant to a bank vice president and a Concealed Handgun License instructor. 4. (The Dallas Morning News: Randy Eli Grothe) Randell Galloway of Denton wears his gun on his hip. He carries extra ammunition, which explains the large pack on his belt. "Unless you have it on you, what good is it?" he says. 5. "When you learn how to handle it and the responsibility, it changes your attitude," says Helen Rhine.