Debate on access, security unfolds at gates of State House

The Carlson family drove to Boston from Franklin on a recent afternoon to study history. Lee Carlson, 13, had been taking American history in school and his parents wanted to take him beyond the textbook. But as they stood in front of the State House that day, they all got a new lesson in homeland security.

The main gate to the oldest building on Beacon Hill has been locked since Sept. 11, 2001, its black bars blocking off the front lawn, where some of the country's most influential activists overlook the grounds, larger than life, immortalized in bronze.

``That's stinky," said Judy Carlson as she looked through the gate at the statues, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. ``I was under the impression we would be able to walk all through the grounds. It's such a beautiful place."

Tourist season attracts visitors from across the globe to the gilded dome of the State House. Officials say that about 90,000 visitors tour the building each year. But since the Sept. 11 attacks , the public can use only three of the building's 21 entrances, and the front lawn has been off limits. No signs explain that the gate was closed to increase security. There are no plans to reopen the main gate on Beacon Street, said Neil Kilpeck, superintendent of state office buildings.

``To open another entrance means more screening equipment and more people in order to screen the people coming into the building," Kilpeck said.

Thus, the statues -- orator Daniel Webster, educator Horace Mann, religious martyr Anne Hutchinson, and President Kennedy -- remain behind bars. (The Mary Dyer statue and Civil War General Joseph Hooker on horseback remain accessible through the side entrance, just down the street from the main gate).

Five years later, some say it makes no sense. Others see it as a sign of a society evolving.

At one time, the front lawn of the State House served as a panoramic patio where locals came to eat lunch, officials held press conferences, and interest groups protested policies. Teachers could lead their students up the stone walkways during field trips, and tourists could read the plaques beneath some of the statues.

But the building was vulnerable, officials say.

``We did not do screening or metal detection for any of the doors," said Joe O'Keefe, assistant secretary for Environmental Affairs, which oversees the security of the State House because it is classified as a state park.

After the attacks, that all changed. Now, park rangers, state troopers, and metal detectors greet visitors at the three entrances to the State House.

``I understand why the gates are shut, and I'm not going to question any security measures," said Susan Greendyke Lachevre, art collections manager for the Massachusetts Art Commission at the State House. ``But the monuments were made for the public. It is a shame that the public can't get any closer to them."

The John Hancock Tower Observatory in Copley Square is the only other major site in the city that is closed for security reasons, tourism officials say.

Some visitors to the State House wedge their arms between the bars to snap pictures of the imprisoned statues.

Drita Kacaj, 27, a high school history teacher from Staten Island, N.Y., was walking by the front of the building with her husband recently. Kacaj said she understands the need to protect the nation's historic sites.

``For security, definitely," she said. ``If it has to be closed, it has to be closed."

But her husband, Afrim, 24, didn't agree.

``It doesn't make sense," he said. ``What is anyone going to be able to do from the outside anyway? Anything I can do from there, I could do from here."

Those who don't know the reason for the locked gate conjure their own conclusions.

``Why is it blocked off?" Astar Lambert, 28, of Boston, asked her father, as they walked by the building one day.

Probably because the Legislature is in session, he told her.

Judy Carlson sat with her sons on the front steps that day as her husband, Kirt, 42, took their picture with the black bars as the backdrop. When they realized they couldn't get closer, they moved along toward City Hall.

``It feels like a zoo, because you have to look through the fence," Kirt Carlson said. ``Of course, the politicians could be just as dangerous as zoo animals."

Russell Nichols can be reached at rnichols@globe.com.