Security trumps warmth at courthouse
By Mark Oswald
Albuquerque Journal, N.M.
Albuquerque Journal, N.M.
(MCT)
Feb. 21--As a Santa Fean for a mere two decades or so, a split second in the geological time of this place's history, I'm not sure I can claim to miss the good old days around here.
I didn't go to school in Santa Fe, my mother did make Frito pie in Arkansas, but in a version that wouldn't be approved of in New Mexico, and I only know there was a state prison and execution chamber not far from the Plaza as part of history and the fact that my favorite coffee store has a location on Pen (short for penitentiary) Road.
But even for me, there's cause to lament the passing of important local landmarks. I really miss Woolworth's, The Downs at Santa Fe, Rare Bear records, live music at the Paramount nightclub, the Bobcat Bite and, just about more than anything, the Yucca Drive In movie theater, lost for the damnable reason of adding more motel space on Cerrillos Road.
Now I'm feeling nostalgic about another Santa Fe place that I never knew I had an emotional attachment to.
It's the old county courthouse, that funky version of the halls of justice on Catron Street that was abandoned for the shiny, $60-million-plus, three-story version at Montezuma and Sandoval that opened last year.
The old courthouse, a former school building, was pretty much of a mess of a courthouse, I guess. No secure passage for hauling in prisoners -- and probably no secure anything else.
Once you were in the building, you could proceed unfettered to computers in the hallway to look up case records or walk into an office and speak with a judge's assistant.
There was usually a crowd around. On the ground floor, all in a single large space surrounded by offices and courtrooms, there would be people waiting to watch or testify at a trial, lawyers running between hearings, folks looking for help from the clerk's office to file for divorce or child support or restraining orders, and assorted ancillary personnel, like news reporters.
On jury call days, the place was full of people, some complaining about having to show up for jury duty (not a legitimate complaint by any proud American) or about the shortage of bathrooms (a very legitimate complaint at the old courthouse).
A judge or two might just walk through and engage in a personal conversation with a real person.
In other words, it was a building that encouraged people-to-people contact (OK, maybe too much so in the case of the jail prisoners in orange jumpsuits, shackles and chains who were led through a hallway on their way to court hearings).
You felt like you were in a community space, even if many of those hanging around would just as soon not have to be there to be part of a trial or a civil suit or to see someone who'd hurt a relative face justice.
Nowadays, the new courthouse has probably the city's best view of the Sangre de Cristos from its third floor and a glass-enclosed lobby that allows sunlight to flood in on sunny days.
But it's still cold, in the metaphorical sense. There's no crowd, no hobnobbing, no shoulder-rubbing going on.
Want to talk to a judge's assistant? Try the telephone, but don't expect to just walk in and say hello.
Nevermore will various courthouse regulars gather in a judge's office for gossip or to just pass the time or check on how the court schedule is going on a particular day.
For security reasons, the offices for judges now are all locked behind closed doors and tucked in a far corner of the building. John Q. Citizen might as well try to get past that series of metal doors that Maxwell Smart confronts at CONTROL headquarters at the start of each "Get Smart" episode.
The workers at the court clerk's office are as friendly and efficient as ever (I'm not just pandering here to the people we depend on to provide the Journal with court documents -- anyone with negative stereotypes of public employees should watch a court staffer going effortlessly between Spanish and English as she politely explains to a frantic person with absolutely no clue about the legal system how to get something filed).
But where reporters or anyone else wanting to see court files were previously welcomed back with the staff, in the new courthouse records hunters are kept in a clean, antiseptic room with the computers. Communication is through glass windows.
It's all more secure and the technology is snappy. Instead of court dockets on a piece of paper stuck on a cork bulletin board, there are little computer screens outside the courtrooms (which, by the way, take forever to scroll through a long court schedule).
I'm sure the new building is safer in just about every way, other than the obvious hazard of having a parking garage beneath it. Courthouse security is no small issue after Oklahoma City and 9/11.
But the new courthouse is as warm and fuzzy as a stainless steel cabinet.
___
(c)2014 the Albuquerque Journal (Albuquerque, N.M.)
Visit the Albuquerque Journal (Albuquerque, N.M.) at www.abqjournal.com
Distributed by MCT Information Services
Feb. 21--As a Santa Fean for a mere two decades or so, a split second in the geological time of this place's history, I'm not sure I can claim to miss the good old days around here.
I didn't go to school in Santa Fe, my mother did make Frito pie in Arkansas, but in a version that wouldn't be approved of in New Mexico, and I only know there was a state prison and execution chamber not far from the Plaza as part of history and the fact that my favorite coffee store has a location on Pen (short for penitentiary) Road.
But even for me, there's cause to lament the passing of important local landmarks. I really miss Woolworth's, The Downs at Santa Fe, Rare Bear records, live music at the Paramount nightclub, the Bobcat Bite and, just about more than anything, the Yucca Drive In movie theater, lost for the damnable reason of adding more motel space on Cerrillos Road.
Now I'm feeling nostalgic about another Santa Fe place that I never knew I had an emotional attachment to.
It's the old county courthouse, that funky version of the halls of justice on Catron Street that was abandoned for the shiny, $60-million-plus, three-story version at Montezuma and Sandoval that opened last year.
The old courthouse, a former school building, was pretty much of a mess of a courthouse, I guess. No secure passage for hauling in prisoners -- and probably no secure anything else.
Once you were in the building, you could proceed unfettered to computers in the hallway to look up case records or walk into an office and speak with a judge's assistant.
There was usually a crowd around. On the ground floor, all in a single large space surrounded by offices and courtrooms, there would be people waiting to watch or testify at a trial, lawyers running between hearings, folks looking for help from the clerk's office to file for divorce or child support or restraining orders, and assorted ancillary personnel, like news reporters.
On jury call days, the place was full of people, some complaining about having to show up for jury duty (not a legitimate complaint by any proud American) or about the shortage of bathrooms (a very legitimate complaint at the old courthouse).
A judge or two might just walk through and engage in a personal conversation with a real person.
In other words, it was a building that encouraged people-to-people contact (OK, maybe too much so in the case of the jail prisoners in orange jumpsuits, shackles and chains who were led through a hallway on their way to court hearings).
You felt like you were in a community space, even if many of those hanging around would just as soon not have to be there to be part of a trial or a civil suit or to see someone who'd hurt a relative face justice.
Nowadays, the new courthouse has probably the city's best view of the Sangre de Cristos from its third floor and a glass-enclosed lobby that allows sunlight to flood in on sunny days.
But it's still cold, in the metaphorical sense. There's no crowd, no hobnobbing, no shoulder-rubbing going on.
Want to talk to a judge's assistant? Try the telephone, but don't expect to just walk in and say hello.
Nevermore will various courthouse regulars gather in a judge's office for gossip or to just pass the time or check on how the court schedule is going on a particular day.
For security reasons, the offices for judges now are all locked behind closed doors and tucked in a far corner of the building. John Q. Citizen might as well try to get past that series of metal doors that Maxwell Smart confronts at CONTROL headquarters at the start of each "Get Smart" episode.
The workers at the court clerk's office are as friendly and efficient as ever (I'm not just pandering here to the people we depend on to provide the Journal with court documents -- anyone with negative stereotypes of public employees should watch a court staffer going effortlessly between Spanish and English as she politely explains to a frantic person with absolutely no clue about the legal system how to get something filed).
But where reporters or anyone else wanting to see court files were previously welcomed back with the staff, in the new courthouse records hunters are kept in a clean, antiseptic room with the computers. Communication is through glass windows.
It's all more secure and the technology is snappy. Instead of court dockets on a piece of paper stuck on a cork bulletin board, there are little computer screens outside the courtrooms (which, by the way, take forever to scroll through a long court schedule).
I'm sure the new building is safer in just about every way, other than the obvious hazard of having a parking garage beneath it. Courthouse security is no small issue after Oklahoma City and 9/11.
But the new courthouse is as warm and fuzzy as a stainless steel cabinet.
___
(c)2014 the Albuquerque Journal (Albuquerque, N.M.)
Visit the Albuquerque Journal (Albuquerque, N.M.) at www.abqjournal.com
Distributed by MCT Information Services
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