At 3 a.m. on July 2, 1993, Steve Sposato sat down in his darkened living room to write, by hand, a letter to the president of the United States. His life had just been shattered.
Hours earlier, in the afternoon, a deranged man armed with semiautomatic weapons had gone on a rampage, slaughtering eight people at an office building in downtown San Francisco. The gunmanâs motive would remain forever a mystery. Among the slain: Steveâs wife, 30-year-old Jody Jones Sposato, the mother of his 10-month-old daughter, Meghan.
His anguished letter to the president asked how it was possible for someone to possess rapid-fire weapons with 30-round magazines, seemingly designed to kill as many people as possible as quickly as possible. âNow Iâm left to raise my 10-month-old daughter on my own,â he told the president. âHow do I find the strength to carry on?â
That letter reached President Bill Clinton. The next year, Sposato stood by Clintonâs side in the Rose Garden as the president demanded that Congress pass a ban on assault weapons, such as the TEC-9s used to kill Sposatoâs wife. Sposato testified on the Hill wearing little Meghan on his back in a baby carrier.
With some moderate Republicans joining the Democratic majority, both houses of Congress passed a 10-year ban on the sale of assault weapons and large ammunition magazines. An attempt to extend the ban in 2004 died in Congress amid opposition from the gun lobby.
Now gun control has roared back into the national conversation as the country reels from the horror in Newtown, Conn. President Obama and his fellow Democrats are vowing to pass a new assault weapons ban, along with other new laws to strengthen background checks on gun purchasers and limit the size of ammunition magazines.
But although Newtown has supercharged the conversation on how to stop another massacre, the history of gun control is a cautionary tale for those who push for more regulations. If past is prologue, the legislative fights ahead will be protracted and brutal â and any resulting legislation may well be riddled with loopholes.
There is no uncontested ground here. Few issues in the country are as polarized as gun control.
The ideological chasm was on full display in Washington on Friday when the National Rifle Associationâs executive vice president, Wayne LaPierre, held a take-no-prisoners news conference in which he called for a federal program to put armed guards in every school in the country, saying, âThe only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.â
He said laws making schools gun-free zones have backfired: âThey tell every insane killer in America that schools are the safest place to inflict maximum mayhem with minimum risk.â LaPierreâs remarks were twice interrupted by protesters; one held a sign saying, âNRA Killing Our Kids.â
The news conference provided a reminder that gun policy is a central feature of what is loosely known as the culture wars. The gun-control and gun-rights camps donât even speak the same language, with one side arguing that the Second Amendment canât possibly mean the right to own an assault weapon, while the other side says âassault weaponâ is a pejorative invented by an urban elite that wouldnât know an AR-15 from an AK-47.
The lack of common ground on this issue doesnât preclude action. This time could be different, because Newtown and other mass shootings in recent months have exerted a powerful torque on the American conscience. But the basic rule on gun legislation is that nothing comes easy.
The historical pattern is striking: First comes a shocking event, then calls for action, then prolonged legislative battles, and at the end of it all a new law might come crawling out of Congress so enfeebled by exemptions that it has limited effect in the real world.
The classic example is that very same 1994 assault weapons ban advocated by Steve Sposato and Clinton and referenced frequently in recent days as a legislative landmark.
The law defined âassault weaponâ narrowly, outlawing the sale of 19 brands of semiautomatic firearms, including certain guns built on the AR-15 design, which is the civilian version of the militaryâs M-16. To be banned, a gun had to have two or more military-style features, such as a pistol grip, a flash suppressor or a bayonet mount. Manufacturers found work-arounds, modifying their designs to comply with the law.
âThere were so many ways around the ban that it wasnât really effective,â said John W. Magaw, who ran the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) during that time.
The 1994 assault weapons ban was prospective, not retroactive. It didnât outlaw the sale of assault weapons that had already been manufactured. And if you owned such a gun, you could keep it. By 1994, the country was already saturated with semiautomatic rifles and handguns.
There are now millions of such guns in circulation. The AR-15-style weapons have become extraordinarily popular â hyped by gun publications and online advertisements. Theyâve been mainstreamed, in effect.
Connecticut has an assault weapons ban, modeled on the 1994 law. The Connecticut law also has a specific definition for âassault weapon.â The law, for example, did nothing to halt the sale of a certain brand of Bushmaster semiautomatic rifle.
One such gun was purchased by Newtown resident Nancy Lanza, a firearms enthusiast who, as the world now knows, liked to take her troubled son to firing ranges.
Bob Michel, a Republican and former House minority leader, remembers the weapon he carried when he hit the beach at Normandy with the 39th Infantry. It was a Browning automatic rifle, a machine gun with a 20-bullet magazine.
Long retired from Congress, Michel is closely following the gun-control debate, which includes proposals to limit the size of ammunition magazines.
âI donât know what the magic number would be. But you shouldnât be able to carry more bullets than I did during World War II,â Michel said.
As a congressman from Illinois, Michel had always been pro-gun. But in 1994, preparing to retire from Congress, Michel decided that he could support a ban on assault weapons without doing violence to the Second Amendment.
âI was opposed to the ban mostly because of the influence that the National Rifle Association had. But you have to vote your conscience. I knew what damage these weapons can do,â Michel recalled. âThe NRA, they just monitored everything very, very closely. The whole argument was, if we thought we shouldnât have assault weapons, they thought the next thing weâd do was weâd take away everyoneâs pistols. When youâre a junior congressman, there are pressure groups that you bow to. But as I got older and wiser, you say, âMy gosh, how long are we going to contend with this?â I wanted to get something done before I left.â
One target of NRA wrath was William J. Hughes, a veteran Democratic lawmaker from New Jersey who chaired the House Judiciary Committeeâs subcommittee on crime. He immersed himself in a series of gun-control bills, including efforts to ban armor-piercing bullets. Gun activists showed up at his town-hall meetings. They made posters superimposing Hughesâs face on Adolf Hitlerâs body with an arm extended in a Nazi salute.
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Hours earlier, in the afternoon, a deranged man armed with semiautomatic weapons had gone on a rampage, slaughtering eight people at an office building in downtown San Francisco. The gunmanâs motive would remain forever a mystery. Among the slain: Steveâs wife, 30-year-old Jody Jones Sposato, the mother of his 10-month-old daughter, Meghan.
His anguished letter to the president asked how it was possible for someone to possess rapid-fire weapons with 30-round magazines, seemingly designed to kill as many people as possible as quickly as possible. âNow Iâm left to raise my 10-month-old daughter on my own,â he told the president. âHow do I find the strength to carry on?â
That letter reached President Bill Clinton. The next year, Sposato stood by Clintonâs side in the Rose Garden as the president demanded that Congress pass a ban on assault weapons, such as the TEC-9s used to kill Sposatoâs wife. Sposato testified on the Hill wearing little Meghan on his back in a baby carrier.
With some moderate Republicans joining the Democratic majority, both houses of Congress passed a 10-year ban on the sale of assault weapons and large ammunition magazines. An attempt to extend the ban in 2004 died in Congress amid opposition from the gun lobby.
Now gun control has roared back into the national conversation as the country reels from the horror in Newtown, Conn. President Obama and his fellow Democrats are vowing to pass a new assault weapons ban, along with other new laws to strengthen background checks on gun purchasers and limit the size of ammunition magazines.
But although Newtown has supercharged the conversation on how to stop another massacre, the history of gun control is a cautionary tale for those who push for more regulations. If past is prologue, the legislative fights ahead will be protracted and brutal â and any resulting legislation may well be riddled with loopholes.
There is no uncontested ground here. Few issues in the country are as polarized as gun control.
The ideological chasm was on full display in Washington on Friday when the National Rifle Associationâs executive vice president, Wayne LaPierre, held a take-no-prisoners news conference in which he called for a federal program to put armed guards in every school in the country, saying, âThe only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.â
He said laws making schools gun-free zones have backfired: âThey tell every insane killer in America that schools are the safest place to inflict maximum mayhem with minimum risk.â LaPierreâs remarks were twice interrupted by protesters; one held a sign saying, âNRA Killing Our Kids.â
The news conference provided a reminder that gun policy is a central feature of what is loosely known as the culture wars. The gun-control and gun-rights camps donât even speak the same language, with one side arguing that the Second Amendment canât possibly mean the right to own an assault weapon, while the other side says âassault weaponâ is a pejorative invented by an urban elite that wouldnât know an AR-15 from an AK-47.
The lack of common ground on this issue doesnât preclude action. This time could be different, because Newtown and other mass shootings in recent months have exerted a powerful torque on the American conscience. But the basic rule on gun legislation is that nothing comes easy.
The historical pattern is striking: First comes a shocking event, then calls for action, then prolonged legislative battles, and at the end of it all a new law might come crawling out of Congress so enfeebled by exemptions that it has limited effect in the real world.
The classic example is that very same 1994 assault weapons ban advocated by Steve Sposato and Clinton and referenced frequently in recent days as a legislative landmark.
The law defined âassault weaponâ narrowly, outlawing the sale of 19 brands of semiautomatic firearms, including certain guns built on the AR-15 design, which is the civilian version of the militaryâs M-16. To be banned, a gun had to have two or more military-style features, such as a pistol grip, a flash suppressor or a bayonet mount. Manufacturers found work-arounds, modifying their designs to comply with the law.
âThere were so many ways around the ban that it wasnât really effective,â said John W. Magaw, who ran the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF) during that time.
The 1994 assault weapons ban was prospective, not retroactive. It didnât outlaw the sale of assault weapons that had already been manufactured. And if you owned such a gun, you could keep it. By 1994, the country was already saturated with semiautomatic rifles and handguns.
There are now millions of such guns in circulation. The AR-15-style weapons have become extraordinarily popular â hyped by gun publications and online advertisements. Theyâve been mainstreamed, in effect.
Connecticut has an assault weapons ban, modeled on the 1994 law. The Connecticut law also has a specific definition for âassault weapon.â The law, for example, did nothing to halt the sale of a certain brand of Bushmaster semiautomatic rifle.
One such gun was purchased by Newtown resident Nancy Lanza, a firearms enthusiast who, as the world now knows, liked to take her troubled son to firing ranges.
Bob Michel, a Republican and former House minority leader, remembers the weapon he carried when he hit the beach at Normandy with the 39th Infantry. It was a Browning automatic rifle, a machine gun with a 20-bullet magazine.
Long retired from Congress, Michel is closely following the gun-control debate, which includes proposals to limit the size of ammunition magazines.
âI donât know what the magic number would be. But you shouldnât be able to carry more bullets than I did during World War II,â Michel said.
As a congressman from Illinois, Michel had always been pro-gun. But in 1994, preparing to retire from Congress, Michel decided that he could support a ban on assault weapons without doing violence to the Second Amendment.
âI was opposed to the ban mostly because of the influence that the National Rifle Association had. But you have to vote your conscience. I knew what damage these weapons can do,â Michel recalled. âThe NRA, they just monitored everything very, very closely. The whole argument was, if we thought we shouldnât have assault weapons, they thought the next thing weâd do was weâd take away everyoneâs pistols. When youâre a junior congressman, there are pressure groups that you bow to. But as I got older and wiser, you say, âMy gosh, how long are we going to contend with this?â I wanted to get something done before I left.â
One target of NRA wrath was William J. Hughes, a veteran Democratic lawmaker from New Jersey who chaired the House Judiciary Committeeâs subcommittee on crime. He immersed himself in a series of gun-control bills, including efforts to ban armor-piercing bullets. Gun activists showed up at his town-hall meetings. They made posters superimposing Hughesâs face on Adolf Hitlerâs body with an arm extended in a Nazi salute.
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