Chairs are still wrapped in plastic. Plaster is still being touched up. And the Governor's Office is stocking drawers with neckties, nevermind that the drawers don't have handles yet.

The Capitol reopens its doors to the public Saturday after four years of restoration at a cost of more than $200 million. While the main purpose was to earthquake-proof the century-old building, another undertaking of massive -- and at times miniscule -- proportions was launched to restore the seat of government to its old glory.

Even with today's rededication, there are still workers buzzing about to get the place suitably ready for the Legislative session that begins in three weeks.

Try not to trip over the wiring on your way through the stunning facility.

Beaux Art with a Kletting twist

When architect Richard Kletting designed the Capitol in the early 20th Century, it was done with light in mind. Hallways were long, open and had access to windows. Part of the second floor was made of glass so that the first floor would have natural light. And artificial light abounded, though light bulbs hadn't been around for long in 1916.

The style is known as Beaux Art, and Kletting used it in radical ways. While the style is particular to light, it also often includes deep, rich colors. But Kletting preferred pastels and the Capitol was originally streaked with soft blues and pinks.

"Kletting took huge risks," said his modern counterpart David Hart, Capitol architect.

Hart and others had to find a way to preserve the result of those risks while updating the building. The challenge came in three parts:

• seismic safety

• functional reality

• restoration while trying to keep the first two in mind.

Atlas shrugs

Utah is expecting a sizable earthquake -- probably around a 7.3 on the Richter Scale -- any time now. The Capitol, as it was, would have likely collapsed.

The first priority of the restoration was to protect the building from seismic shock. There are essentially two ways to do that. First is to line the entire structure with metal beams to shore up walls. It could have been done, but at the cost of Kletting's vision.

For example, Hart says, a beam would have had to run across the open air of the Rotunda. That idea was quickly dismissed for the other seismic option: base isolation.

Modern buildings are often designed to ride on "springs" which absorb the shock of an earthquake. But one doesn't simply hoist a 92-year-old building and put 265 rubber and metal isolators underneath. That doesn't mean it can't be done.

Using "micropiles" (a sort of temporary foundation) to place jacks on, then crisscrossing the underside with concrete beams to push against, the building was actually lifted. Once done, the original column footings were removed and replaced with the isolators with a concrete mat underneath.

The result is that seismic impact on the building has been reduced by up to 80 percent.

The little things

Over the course of nine decades, a lot of people didn't particularly care about Beaux Art. The result in the beginning of the 21st Century was hallways crammed with semi-permanent displays, glass floors tiled over, windows grimy and dark with neglect, and perhaps worst of all, monochromatic paint on everything.

"They lost the vision," said Wilson Martin, state historic preservation officer and temporary full-time tour guide.

Martin pointed to clean murals, coats of arms on staircases that are once again multicolored and the restoration of the glass floor that once again lights the hallways below the Rotunda. Even the light diffusers on the Rotunda chandelier are restored, though not all from originals. The state couldn't find enough to complete the lighting until Martin ran across some at the statehouse in Arkansas. That state made them an official gift and the chandelier was complete.

Martin pointed out restored chairs, tables and wall hangings in the Gold Room ("the greatest room in Utah") on Thursday before stopping to clarify his position on restoration.

"We don't like rooms as museums. We like rooms that are used," he said. The point comes across minutes later as a member of the governor's staff was bemoaning indentations he left on a table while in a meeting. Martin laughed it off.

"Ultimately that's what a restoration is about: not hiding it away."

Hiding it away

It's all very beautiful and old to be sure, but, asks Hart before launching into an answer: "How do you make that work today?"

The Capitol is the seat of state government. The governor, senators, representatives, their staffs and all the rest need facilities that provide state of the art communications and other technologies. The solution lies in that while murals, grand staircases and new sculptures are pushed into the limelight, the necessary tools of operation have been tucked neatly away.

High-speed internet, including wireless, can be found throughout the building. Small, high pressure air ducts allow more effective and efficient air conditioning and heating. Not exactly hidden, but framed by restored decor are massive LCD screens in both house chambers to monitor bill progress.

It's easy being green

There aren't any solar panels on the roof, but Martin lights up at the mention whether the Capitol Preservation Board thought about going green.

"We in preservation love that debate," he said. "Bring it on."

Restoration by its very nature is green.

About 60 percent of the energy ever used by a building is in the actual construction. That energy is termed "embodied energy" and the more buildings that are restored instead of replaced, the more embodied energy is saved.

That isn't to say the more well-known methods of energy conservation aren't being used. The Capitol sports a more efficient heating and A/C system, thermal-paned windows, and many of the light bulbs are fluorescent. That wouldn't have been done even just a few years ago because of the harsh light fluorescent bulbs threw off then.

"They're now OK. They're appealing to the eye," he said.

The people's building

Martin sees another benefit in the return to Kletting's design principles: power for the people.

Think about dingy paintings and windows, dark hallways cut short by bureaucratic offices, and committee rooms that put the public far away from their elected officials. Those are things that turn the public off to participation.

Opening up hallways and losing offices definitely open the building up. It doesn't hurt to have two massive office buildings flank the Capitol to take the castoffs. Those buildings were used by lawmakers as a makeshift Capitol during the restoration.

Martin then walked through a committee room designed as wide and shallow instead of long and deep. It puts the public nearly in the laps of lawmakers.

"You can look in the eyes of everyone in the room," he said.

Even at the cost of several hundred million dollars the end result is worth it.

"I think if you build cheaply, you govern cheaply," Martin said. "I think if you build places like this, you build honesty and integrity."