San Francisco weighs merits of handgun ban

The long-term tends, though, have not been positive. Washington and Chicago perennially have some of the highest homicide rates in the US. Last year, when Chicago's homicide count dropped an unprecedented 25 percent, the reason was not the ban so much as a new vigilance in getting guns out of the hands of criminals - using laws already on the books in many states.

"They were not trying to get guns out of law-abiding homeowners' hands," says Arthur Lurigio, chairman of the Department of Criminal Justice at Loyola University in Chicago. "But when they encountered suspects, they were vigorously confiscating guns and trying to figure out where they can find more guns."

Others agree that the greatest success in lowering murder rates has come when law-enforcement officials have made taking guns from criminals a top priority.

"There is no cheap way out of this," says Philip Cook, a public-policy professor at Duke University in Durham, N.C. "Criminals have a way of getting guns no matter what the law is."

That's not to say handgun bans are a bad idea, some analysts hasten to say, but rather that they might not necessarily be an effective crime-fighting tool all by themselves. In addition, they can make "reasonable" gun-control laws harder to pass, by bringing gun owners to a boil, says Dr. Vizzard.

In Washington, the National Rifle Association already has its eyes on San Francisco. The city passed a similar measure in 1982, but it was struck down in court because it illegally usurped state authority. Daly believes his proposal solves the problem, but it will surely receive a stiff legal test if it passes in November.

"The buzz is out there, and folks are watching with interest," says Andrew Arulanandam, a spokesman for the NRA. "This is a draconian gun ban... It is not a matter that ought to be taken lightly."

He suggests that gun owners, feeling ever besieged by governments and gun laws, are more politically attuned than most Americans. And there is perhaps no better example than Paul Quinn.

As a San Franciscan, he would have to turn over his handguns to authorities if the measure wins in November. To him, San Francisco's plan is less a criminal-justice mistake than a constitutional farce.

He portrays himself as a moderate. Though he calls guns "marvels of engineering," he bought his first one only five years ago when he moved here; he fears the chaos that could erupt after a large earthquake. Now, he's a self-made Second Amendment scholar, quoting 19th-century court decisions about the authority of the Supreme Court and the inconsistency of American gun laws.

The fight has come to his home turf. "It's nonsense," he says of the ballot measure. "It offends my sense of liberty much more than my sense of security."

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