Editorial: Fleeing Missouri’s ‘hate politics’ is understandable, but won’t solve the problem

To those who appreciate St. Louis' epic history as a once-great American city (the fourth-largest in the country at the start of the last century), it's always painful watching the trappings of cosmopolitan culture drain away: an NFL team here, major convention traffic there, population itself year after year.

And perhaps more relevantly to the everyday life of St. Louisans who appreciate a memorable meal, the loss of a world-class restaurant.

The city suffered such a loss recently with the closure of Bulrush. But it wasn't crime, taxes or St. Louis' long fall in stature that was responsible. Owner-chef Rob Connoley, a St. Louis native, blames Missouri's "hate politics" — specifically, the anti-LGBTQ witch hunt being undertaken by the state Attorney General Andrew Bailey.

This, as they say, is why we can't have nice things.

Connoley's decision is understandable, given the right-wing extremism that has come to define Republican political leadership in this state. Still, losing businesses and people that stand against that extremism can only make it worse. Here's hoping Connoley reconsiders — or at least that others don't follow his lead.

"Bulrush, while a Serious Restaurant, is a hell of a lot of fun," Post-Dispatch restaurant critic Ian Froeb wrote in April, as he named the "Ozark cuisine" eatery the best restaurant in St. Louis this year. "... Dinner at Bulrush is often surprising, always delicious and thought-provoking in the best way."

Despite brisk business, Connoley — a recent finalist for the prestigious James Beard Foundation Awards honoring outstanding restaurateurs — shuttered his nationally respected restaurant late last month. As Froeb reported last week, Connoley says he no longer wants to do business in a state that is "actively working to harm" LGBTQ citizens.

"I've done LGBT advocacy for a long time, 30-plus years, and I've never seen something like this," Connoley, who is gay, told Froeb. "Normally, it's legislative, and there's work you can do with your representatives and constituents. But here, it's one person doing hate politics."

That one person is Bailey, Missouri's top legal official. And "hate politics" perfectly describes his election-related crusade of legal harassment against transgender patients and the doctors and therapists who serve them.

Bailey, appointed as attorney general last year to fill a vacancy, is running for a full term this year. As this Editorial Board has documented for months now, his campaign strategy has centered on brazen misuse of his official powers to demonstrate his reactionary ideology to base Republican voters.

As reported in our ongoing " Bailey Tally " of this uniquely disingenuous officeholder, Bailey has cravenly inserted his office where it has no legitimate business, filing frivolous, showy lawsuits to grandstand on culture-war issues ranging from the southern border to race to, especially, gender.

Regarding the latter, Bailey has launched harassment probes against Planned Parenthood and Washington University Transgender Center at St. Louis Children's Hospital regarding medical care for children. He has targeted the records of mental health professionals and others across the state involved in such care.

At one point, he even sought an emergency rule restricting the transgender treatment rights of adults, before it became clear that was too far a reach for even his fellow Republican Missouri political leaders.

What does any of this have to do with the core responsibility of the attorney general, which is to represent the legal interests of the state and its citizens? Nothing. This and virtually every other crusade Bailey has undertaken during his tenure has been calculated to produce maximum right-wing political grist.

Connoley's decision to close his restaurant has been simmering for a while, he told Froeb. He recounted his misgivings a year ago as he traveled to London to teach Ozark cooking as part of a program in partnership with the Missouri Department of Tourism.

"And even at that time," he said, "I'm like, 'This feels really weird, promoting a state that's actively trying to oppress me.'"

Bailey isn't the first or only Missouri politician to leverage hate for political gain since the state's sharp rightward turn over the past decade.

In 2017, the NAACP's national office issued its first-ever statewide travel advisory , warning Black travelers that Missouri's racial incidents and laws make it a dangerous destination. The recently radicalized Francis Howell School Board has removed from school walls statements expressing racial tolerance and has tried to scuttle Black history and literature courses.

Other districts have yanked books from school libraries dealing with gender issues based on a state law banning vaguely defined " explicit " material. This year, a Republican candidate for Missouri secretary of state, Valentina Gomez, drew national attention with a campaign video in which she implores Missourians: "Don't be weak and gay."

The silver lining is that average Missourians aren't nearly as extremist as their elected representatives, judging from the outcomes of multiple statewide ballot referendums in recent years regarding labor rights, marijuana, Medicaid and more.

Abortion rights may well be on their way to restoration via the ballot as well — which is why Bailey and other Republicans have tried so hard to keep it out of the voters' hands. They know they don't represent the Missouri mainstream but have been able to keep power through division and demagoguery. Trampling trans rights is as much a political strategy as a genuinely held principle.

Connoley says he hopes his restaurant's closure will help publicize the fact that Missouri is "not a place that is safe for LGBT families."

There is some value to that kind of publicity. But more valuable would be if high-profile Missouri residents and businesses stayed, organized and voted to help clear our state's palate of this kind of political hate.