"We've got young men now fighting all over the world for what they tell us is for democracy and freedom," Jim VonFeldt, 60, said. "Yet our own government is taking away my freedom to operate my business right here at home. It's just not right."
CU Regent Proposes System-Wide Smoking Ban
November 6, 2007
Kathy Walsh University of Colorado regent Michael Carrigan is proposing an idea to ban smoking on all of its property across the state, the Denver Post reported Tuesday. The measure is scheduled for introduction early next year after a survey on smoking goes out this week. The ban would affect 75,000 people. The idea is to eventually ban smoking -- and perhaps all tobacco -- on nearly 2,000 acres of CU property. It would need the support of a majority of the Board of Regents. "The university has an opportunity to be a leader in 21st-century health care, and I'm confident that 10 years from now, most campuses will have a smoking ban in effect," Carrigan said. This week's survey will gauge the opinion of CU's 52,000 students, 20,000 staffers and 4,100 faculty members. CBS4's Kathy Walsh went to the campus Tuesday and said the reaction was mixed. "I love having a cigarette with a beer or with a coffee, in between class or when I'm reading," sophomore Jonathon Gold said. "If you can go in a store and buy them legally, you should be able to smoke in a public place. Carrigan said he disagrees. "We don't want tobacco use and addiction promoted on our campus," he told CBS4. The campus would be the second in the country to be smoke-free. "I think it's important for the University of Colorado to be a leader, not a follower," Carrigan said. Non-smokers on campus saw both pros and cons. "I think it would make it just a cleaner place in general," a non-smoking student said. "We have so much space here, if someone wants to smoke, I think it's there prerogative," said another non-smoker. If the campus does go smoke-free, Gold said he will still smoke. "I think I would probably rebel and just keep smoking," Gold said. Carrigan said he thinks peer-pressure would be the best way to police a smoke-free campus. Read
Letter to the Larimer County Commissioner:
08/23/2006 You got a problem when the nearest place to me where I can smoke inside and not get arrested is not in Colorado. I can't believe I spent $10.70 on tax for silver bullion purchased in Wyoming. I was enjoying a smoke at the time (bought the cigarettes in Wyoming, too). But, while you're receiving your 24 thousand dollar raises, please remember that this smoker is not contributing to the State of Colorado. I can pay taxes on the cigarettes. I can go outside in the snow and rain and smoke it. But, I'll be darned if I can find a way to enjoy a smoke in this state. When I can, perhaps I'll spend money here again. Missed New West Fest because the Fort of Collins just isn't made for people such as myself. A short drive north, and I've found what America used to be. Too bad it's not Colorado. My name is Fred Collier. I am a real person, and, worse for you, a consumer with money to burn that you're excluding from your society. Fred "Derf" Collier Response:
Subject: Re: WEB: Financial woes
Mr. Collier, Thank you for your email. I can appreciate your frustration with the new state smoking regulations, which are being put in place in numerous other states across the nation. I'd bet Wyoming may remain a refuge for smokers like you for many years to come. By the way, I'm not receiving a $24,000 raise, nor have I lobbied the State Legislature for one. That raise will go to Commissioner Rennels, who convinced the Legislature to raise the salaries of elected officials, if she is reelected in Nov. I read that her opponent has pledged to donate the $24,000 raise to local charities. Thanks again for communicating your opinion. I've heard from several people who share your thoughts, on both of these issues. Karen A. Wagner Larimer County Commissioner P.O. Box 1190 Ft. Collins, CO 80522 kwagner@larimer.org498-7002 (voicemail)
Johnson: And now, the roofs begin tumbling down
July 26, 2006
Bill Johnson
The issue is no longer just about smoking.
Passing a state law outlawing smoking in most public places was, by this comparison, the easiest thing to do.
The law was not required to address the inevitable hardships such a bill was destined to inflict.
There was clapping and backslapping on the floor of the state Senate the afternoon it passed there. But none of that really matters now, when the issue is one of how it impacts people's lives.
They are men and women who once ran tiny, yet prosperous, packed-to- the-kegs establishments, who now tend mostly empty bars. The looks on their faces would be no different had their roofs actually fallen in.
They call me. What am I supposed to do, I ask? Write about it, they respond.
What has happened is a statewide tragedy, sponsored by the government. And where are all of the people, they all want to know, that the government promised would flock to their now-smoke-free bars?
The loudest of them, of course, has been Jim VonFeldt, owner of the venerable Billy's Inn at 44th Avenue and Lowell Boulevard.
In the weeks between the governor's signing of the bill and July 1, when the law went into effect, he rallied a relatively small band of tavern owners to challenge the law in court.
A judge denied their sought-after injunction. The litigation itself remains pending in the courts.
Jim VonFeldt has just returned to Billy's from his banker when he calls me, yet again.
He has owned the place for 21 years; his wife's family owned it for nearly 20 years before that. His two grown children are his only employees.
And now, he wants to talk.
It is just after 1 p.m. when I walk into the joint. The only sound emanates from a television in the corner, droning a detective show. Only bearded, vacant-eyed Jay, who has occupied the same far-corner barstool for decades, inhabits the place.
Jim VonFeldt walks up from the back, carrying a large stack of documents. He begins reading from them.
Total business is off 35.14 percent since July 1, he begins. Liquor sales, jukebox, cigarette, vending and Lotto scratch-off machine receipts have declined in 23 short days by at least half.
"That video golf game used to average $75 to $100 a week. The last two weeks, the vendor and I split the 6 bucks that were in it," Jim VonFeldt says.
"Where are all these people the government told me would make my life better? My most loyal customers come, but maybe they have a drink. Most have just stopped coming altogether."
As leader of the Coalition for Equal Rights, the tavern owners' group, he gets calls every day, he says. Three come in as we chat, including one from the lawyer representing the group.
"This is simply crippling," he moans into the phone to the lawyer. Hanging up, he beseeches me to look at the blue folder in front of him. It is filled with his complete financial records, the same ones he has just handed his banker at Chase to leverage his house to the hilt in order to pay his bills. I decline.
So he hands me his state workers compensation bill.
"I don't have the money. All of my cash flow has been depleted," Jim VonFeldt said. "And if I don't have workers comp, I can be fined up to $17,000. I don't know what I am going to do."
To emphasize his point, he walks me to the automatic teller machine I had used a month before.
A large "out of order" sign now lies across the keyboard.
"I don't have enough $20 bills to put in it," he says.
He reads from a stack of notes taken during myriad recent conversations with Coalition members, of patrons saying they are going outside for a smoke but never come back, of fights the bartenders inside can no longer break up, of thieves cleaning out cash registers when bartenders themselves sneak out for a drag or two.
Many owners, Jim VonFeldt says, are doing what he did two days ago: writing Bill Owens and begging for an exemption to the law.
"The ban has decimated my business," his letter to the governor begins. "I am one or two weeks away from bankruptcy.
"If I lose this, so goes my whole family. Please grant this exemption for my family."
The last sentence he has typed in large bold letters.
While he waits to hear back from the governor, he fumes.
"We've got young men now fighting all over the world for what they tell us is for democracy and freedom," Jim VonFeldt, 60, said.
"Yet our own government is taking away my freedom to operate my business right here at home. It's just not right."
He sighs.
"At a time when I should be planning for retirement and the good things in life, the only thing I'm planning is how to survive. If I fail - and this worries me the most - I fail my children.
"I don't know what I am going to do." Read
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