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August
21, 2002 9:00 a.m. |
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reasons known only to themselves and God, more than 50 people have applied
to succeed Bernard Parks as chief of the Los Angeles Police Department,
a job with a turnover rate similar to that of kamikaze pilots. Parks,
you'll recall, failed to persuade the civilian police commission that
he was deserving of another five-year term in the position, and he came
up far short of the two-thirds vote in the city council it would have
required to overturn the commission's decision. This was cause for much
rejoicing among the rank-and-file, and your correspondent and many others
similarly situated have for the moment put aside plans to leave the LAPD
in the hope that, after a succession of losers, the next chief can right
the foundering ship.
The Los Angeles Times reported last week that a specially appointed 15-member citizens' committee has trimmed the applicant pool to 21, this by "eliminating people who did not have a bachelor's degree or leadership experience in a law enforcement agency." This would seem let all but a few of the candidates from within the LAPD right off the train. It's not the education they lack — there are degrees aplenty among the upper-management types — but rather the leadership. We're fully stocked with managers, well loaded down with administrators, but in recent years leaders have been pitifully scarce. From my vantage point near the bottom of the organization, I look with a jaundiced eye at the commanders and deputy chiefs vying for the top job. It saddens me to say it, but with a few exceptions, this bunch couldn't lead a hungry dog to a soup bone. Yes, they call themselves leaders, of course. And I can go stand in the garage and call myself a car.
It is my misfortune that duties occasionally take me to Parker Center, the LAPD headquarters building. It is my further misfortune that I sometimes find myself confined in an elevator with one or more of these so-called leaders. They regard me as they might a man with some obvious mental deficiency. I see it in their eyes: "Look at this poor chump, still wearing the uniform and toiling among the unwashed after all these years. Gosh, if you were as smart as me, you'd be a commander by now." To which I might reply, but do not in fact reply, "Gosh, if you were as smart as me, you'd be writing for National Review Online." But during these wordless encounters I get close enough to see those telltale signs, the all but vanished yet unmistakable scars from the surgeries: the ones in which their spines were removed.
Most of these people, you see, are indelibly stained by their support of Bernard Parks through the Reign of Terror. As crime rose, as morale plummeted, as valuable officers fled the LAPD by the hundreds during Parks's tenure, nary a peep of protest could be heard from anyone above the rank of captain. And anyone who remained silent while Parks did his dirty work can expect to be asked about it as the selection process for chief continues. "Well, Deputy Chief, So-and-so," one might ask, "just what were you doing while your police department was going up in flames the last five years?"
"Who, me? Well, I, er . . . uh . . ."
"Next!"
There is a wide divergence of opinion on whether the LAPD would benefit from the appointment of someone from outside the ranks of the department. William Bratton, under whose leadership the New York Police Department cut the city's murder rate in half in two years, has applied for the position and presumably is among the 21 remaining candidates. He would certainly seem to have the chops for the job, but some have expressed reservations about hiring an outsider. The Times quoted an unnamed member of the citizens' selection committee: "It would be unwise to pick someone who doesn't understand the realities and complexities of Los Angeles." It is preposterous to suggest that Los Angeles is somehow more complex than New York, but perhaps the anonymous committee member was politely trying to avoid another Willie Williams debacle. It was Williams, you may remember, who in 1992 was brought in from the top post in the Philadelphia Police Department to replace the embattled Daryl Gates. Williams proved to be lacking the intellect and temperament required in the post and quickly proceeded to make a hash of things. He was sent packing in 1997 and was replaced, to the ultimate detriment of nearly everyone, by Bernard Parks.
My friends on the NYPD, whose opinion I trust completely, speak highly of William Bratton. Maybe he has the stuff to get the LAPD on the right course and back in the business of fighting crime rather than generating mountainous piles of worthless reports. We could sure do a lot worse, and have been for ten years.
— Jack Dunphy is an officer in the Los Angeles Police Department. "Jack Dunphy" is the author's nom de cyber. The opinions expressed are his own and almost certainly do not reflect those of the LAPD management.