Topeka ? More than a decade has passed since the design for this very public piece of art has been chosen, yet it’s not in place.

Close to finishing the Statehouse by placing a statue atop its dome, state officials hesitate. Some balk at the cost of the project, others at the aesthetics.

The year is 1901.

None of the participants knows it, of course, but the dispute over the dome will outlive them, their children and perhaps some of their children’s grandchildren.

Kansans have been debating, discussing and cussing about the dome for well over a century.

Once again, the state is on the brink of ending the debate and replacing the unadorned 1,000-watt bulb that has been on the dome for decades.

The artwork that is supposed to take its place by early October is a 20-foot statue of a Kansa Indian, by Salina sculptor Richard Bergen. Its name, “Ad Astra,” comes from the state motto, “Ad astra per aspera,” or “To the stars through difficulties.”

And though it’s hard to see any difficulties that could stop the project now, more obstacles wouldn’t be too surprising, given history.

There’s still plenty of criticism. The state’s budget problems could lead to cuts in education and social services later this year, and the cost of putting the statue up is now estimated at between $700,000 and $750,000.

The statue is even part of the governor’s race this year. Some candidates see it as a symbol of a state government that isn’t running efficiently enough.

“I don’t think when my dad was worried about his job and making his house payment that he went out and bought yard art,” said State Treasurer Tim Shallenburger, one of four Republican hopefuls.

Shallenburger’s comment was another in a long line of comments about what should happen or not happen with the dome.

A loose woman?

The debate began when the dome was just a promise. Though construction on the state Capitol started in 1866, it wasn’t finished for 37 years.

In 1889, a special commission sponsored a contest among seven sculptors, won by an Indiana artist, J.H. Mahoney. The state officials wanted a 16-foot statue of Ceres, the Roman goddess of agriculture.

But a dozen years later, the state had only a smaller plaster model. The commission met again in 1901 and decided against the project.

Accounts cite the cost a then-princely sum of $6,950 as one reason.

But the same year, Ceres acquired the reputation of a loose woman, which would haunt the project for decades. Opponents would frequently cite the mythological figure’s liaisons with several other Roman gods, including brother Jupiter.

The debate flared up periodically. Interest was revived in 1937, when the state commissioned murals for the second floor of the Statehouse by painter John Steuart Curry.

What about a Jayhawk?

Four years later, the state’s superintendent of public instruction found Mahoney’s model in the Statehouse basement and moved it upstairs to his office. In 1944, he moved it outside in response to one Kansas State Historical Society officer’s public suggestion that a Jayhawk be honored instead.

There would be other ideas for dome toppers, including statues of an Indian, a buffalo and the state’s first governor, Charles Robinson. A 1976 law would allow a flag pole for the American and Kansas flags, if the banners were properly lighted.

“But capitol observers generally regard the matter of putting a statue on the dome as one to come under the heading of ‘unfinished business,”‘ The Topeka State Journal reported in March 1944.

A generation after the Journal’s comment, the Legislature faced the question directly when Ceres supporters made a push to get her to the top of the dome.

In 1974, lawmakers set aside $32,000 to install Ceres on the Capitol dome. Gov. Robert Docking vetoed the appropriation, calling the project “premature.”

It’s likely that petitions signed by dozens of angry Kansans helped. One declared: “We do not believe that a pagan goddess has any place in the great wheat state of Kansas.”

When the House voted to sustain Docking’s veto, Rep. David Mikesic, now a Wyandotte County district judge, explained his vote by saying, “If we want to pay tribute to our wheat industry, why don’t we put a giant box of Wheaties on the dome?”

The state didn’t take up Mikesic’s suggestion, though the flag pole law passed two years later. In 1979, Ceres supporters tried again, only to see more debate about her reputation.

The final version of the legislation said that while the dome could have a statue, it couldn’t be a representation of any god or goddess.

A contest

Still, no statue followed. In 1988, legislators passed a law saying the state would find a statue for its dome through a contest, the winning design chosen by five art professionals.

They chose Bergen’s work, the Kansa Indian with his bow to the sky, arrow pointed to the north star. A dedication ceremony was set for July 4, 1990.

Still, concerns remained about the cost of reinforcing the dome to hold the statue, and some legislators objected to what they saw as a popularity contest to pick the design.

Even this year, 14 years later, they stuck a provision in a budget bill saying public funds couldn’t be used to reinforce the dome. Gov. Bill Graves, a longtime “Ad Astra” supporter, vetoed it.

Graves has since ordered money for the project set aside. Plans call for lowering eight giant steel columns in through the hatch that an employee now uses to check on and change the light bulb.

According to the Department of Administration, putting the columns in place will take about two months and could begin by mid-July. The statue was being cast in Loveland, Colo., this past week.

The department expects the state to have a dedication ceremony by early October 113 years after state officials began discussing how to top the dome.