Trash Commando : Dancing Volunteer Declares War on Refuse Along River

Donalda Towne pedaled her bicycle down her Studio City street and paused at a pair of legs poking out of the oleander bushes that line the Los Angeles River basin near her house.

“Is that you, Billy?” Towne asked. “What are you doing in the bushes?”

Startled, Bill Richards emerged, leaves in his thinning hair, disgustedly waving a rusty hubcap in his right hand.

‘It’s Not Pretty’

“Can you believe the kind of stuff people throw in here?” Richards asked. “I just don’t want to look at this stuff. It’s not pretty.”

Towne smiled.

“Keep up the good work,” she said, and pedaled on.

The neighborhood “grime fighter” was at it again, making his litter-collection rounds on the dirt access road that runs along the river bank between Coldwater Canyon Avenue and Laurel Canyon Boulevard, about a block from Richards’ home. Although the road is owned by the county and is clearly marked with “No Trespassing” signs, many neighborhood residents use it to jog and exercise their dogs.

Richards, who has dubbed himself the “Studio City Trash Commando,” can’t bear to see candy wrappers, dog droppings, cigarette butts or soda cans spoiling the path where he and his wife walk their dog.

Four Months of Work

A dancer/actor/singer who relies on euphemisms like “between jobs” and “over 45” to describe himself, Richards decided four months ago to take on the community’s litterbugs. Each day, he dons a sweat suit, puts a bandanna around his neck, tucks plastic bags into his pockets and embarks on his volunteer crusade, collecting garbage left behind by “inconsiderate” passers-by.

“I’m in charge of this whole area,” he says with the authority of a police officer walking a beat. “It’s mine.”

And, after filling a kitchen-size trash bag with junk, Richards said, “People are so damned indifferent to all of this. I plan to intimidate them by example.”

Los Angeles County public works officials acknowledge that the access road, used by county maintenance vehicles, has become a popular dumping ground, but they discourage Richards and others from entering the prohibited area. Once visitors get past the fence barring them from the road, the only thing preventing them from falling into the river is a second fence that is only four feet high.

“Dumping is a particular problem there, but we are concerned for the safety of the people,” said Roslyn Robson, spokeswoman for the county Public Works Department. “Sometimes the river moves very quickly. There’s no way out. They will go all the way to the ocean.

Warning From Official

“For your own protection, do not go into areas marked ‘No Trespassing.’ ”

But Richards ignores the signs and has thus far eluded the long arm of the law.

Talking non-stop to a visitor, Richards darts off in one direction, then another, as he spots offensive trash. Practicing a dancer’s pirouettes and plies as he works, Richards dips down--toes pointed at all times--sweeps up an empty cranberry-juice bottle and plunks it into his bag.

“This is very good for your back,” he said. “It’s just as good an exercise as jogging and you don’t have to beat your heels into the ground.”

And, turning to a more sensitive subject, Richards said he wants to teach people how to pick up dog droppings without touching them. He pulled a plastic sandwich bag from his pocket, put his hand in it, collected the matter and turned the bag inside-out.

“See, it’s no problem,” he said, showing off his clean hand. Then, laughing, he said of the bag: “Just don’t put it in your pocket.”