The Selling of a Neophyte Lobbyist : Snyder--a Different Kind of Campaign

Most of the 30 or so civic leaders had already finished their fish and green beans when Arthur K. Snyder, waving heartily and smiling his politician’s smile, rushed into the downtown Los Angeles dining room.

After a humorous apology for his tardiness--in which he managed to invoke, within the space of a few minutes, both his personal relationship with Mayor Tom Bradley and the location of his law office--the former Los Angeles city councilman-turned-lobbyist launched into the day’s topic: “Inside City Hall”.

First he was folksy and paternal. Then he turned to what the crowd was waiting for, an artful primer on how to work the City Hall system, described in terms more cynical and realistic than the business leaders had any reason to expect.

In abridged form, it went like this: Make no enemies. When bureaucrats won’t accede to your demands, retreat peacefully and approach the politicians. Be prepared to make the politicians look good.

Snyder, who in his 26 years at City Hall learned the power of his advice, was telling the business leaders more than how to cut their own back room deals. Lobbyist Snyder was telling them how he, with his high-powered friendships and unlimited access in City Hall, could manipulate the system for them.

In Another Campaign

For the political veteran is embroiled in another campaign, the only one since 1967 that will not end in an election. His campaign these days is not the selling of a politician but the selling of a neophyte lobbyist--the selling of Arthur K. Snyder.

The burly redhead, his face still florid from his run to the private downtown dining room, offered the apocryphal tale of a would-be office building developer.

“You can say, ‘Well, they put this big building next door and it causes terrible traffic congestion; there’s no place to park. What we’re going to do is, we’re going to put in this building here (next door) and we’re going to solve the traffic problem that’s created by that building by putting in extra parking. Now it’s gonna cost us a lot of money.’ ”

Snyder, 53, cupped his hand to the side of his mouth and slipped into a conspiratorial stage whisper: “Also, you’re gonna rent it out for a lot of money, too.”

The laughter subsided. With a soapbox preacher’s sense of timing, he got to the point.

“And (to) the politician you’ll say, ‘See, what we will do (is), we’ll come in just plain, without the extra parking. And you can ask us for the extra parking’ “--he paused for chuckles--” ’on behalf of the people of the community and we’ll be happy to give you the extra millions of dollars of parking because you, Mr. Councilman, stood up and fought for your community.’ ”

Spurning the politician’s routine of precinct walks and podium-thumping speeches, Snyder has embraced his new-found lobbyist’s career with a vengeance.

On a Monday, three weeks ago, he delivered his telling speech at a Town Hall luncheon. The following day, he waved to the crowds at the Los Angeles Wholesale Produce Mart, where local power brokers gathered to hear Mayor Bradley’s State of the City address. On Wednesday he was back in the familiar surroundings of City Hall, awarding his successor Richard Alatorre a leather-bound copy of Snyder’s “Ten Rules for the Fifteen,” a compilation of words-to-live-by for the council members of Los Angeles.

Such non-official exposure is only a part of his new role, combined as it is with Snyder’s appearances on behalf of clients at city government hearings and his behind-the-scenes maneuverings--such as a bold letter to his former council colleagues, promising them contributions not only of his own money, but also that of his clients.

Always, it is difficult to remember that Snyder is not, in fact, still one of the Fifteen. It is an impression on which his budding business is built.

A cloisonne pin of the city’s emblem is ever-present on his left lapel, just as it was before his resignation last October. His office is decorated with five calligraphic proclamations attesting to his council victories.

His car has been occasionally seen parked in the council members’ lot beneath City Hall, although he has traded his city loaner for a brand-new Mercedes.

At his weekly--if not more frequent--visits to City Hall, he enters the council chambers from doors usually reserved for members. He stands inside the velvet ropes that mark the members’ side of the ornate chamber and he sits conspicuously in the front row, chatting with city officials as if he had never left.

Access, more than business lunches or ceremonial appearances, is the best tool Snyder has in his new career, and he is making the most of it. Concerns have been raised by some city officials about his tactics, but none of the concerns troubles Snyder, and the former councilman is thundering ahead as oblivious to appearances--and trying to be nearly as powerful--as he ever was.

To hear Art Snyder tell it, he expected his power and popularity to drop off precipitously Oct. 4, when he tearfully resigned after eight years as a council deputy and 18 tumultuous and controversial years as a councilman representing the city’s East Side. His leave-taking had been announced 10 months before, and Snyder said he used the time to ready himself for a let-down.

“For 10 months,” he said in an interview, “every time I got up in the morning and looked in the mirror, I reminded myself that there’s nothing as former as a former politician.”

But instead of working full-time as a lawyer, as he said he planned, Snyder now has “very substantial” lobbying contracts with some prominent clients. Snyder said most of them sought him out, although his office did send out announcements proclaiming that “Councilman Snyder will now be available for representation.”

He has, as well, joined directly with with other dominant city forces. He was named to the board of directors of the Central City Assn., a group of major downtown corporations and developers. He will be lobbying--free of charge--for that group and for the Greater Los Angeles Area Chamber of Commerce, he said.

Business is so good, he said, that his four-member law firm soon will be adding several more attorneys, and this spring will move from its Temple Street office to a new spread on Bunker Hill.

Thus far, Snyder has spent little time with high-ranking city officials and the council on specific projects, working instead before lower-level planning and zoning boards for his clients. Although Snyder declines to identify his clients, prominent local developers Ray Watt and Alan Casden are known to be among them.

Raises a Few Eyebrows

Snyder’s work for developers on whose projects he voted in his last months in office has raised a few eyebrows, but no accusations of conflict of interest. According to city law, Snyder is free to act as a lobbyist for any project up for city approval except specific ones on which he voted as a councilman. Since few projects are likely to come before the council more than once, Snyder has virtually free rein.

“Frankly, it gives me a great deal of latitude,” he said.

Snyder is not the only former government official to make the switch to lobbying. Former councilmen Ernest Debs and Robert Wilkinson and former City Atty. Burt Pines have lobbied for local interests. Statewide, several former legislators have worked as lobbyists.

“It’s something that is not unusual at all,” Snyder said, almost wearily. “Most of the senior city planners, when they leave the department (go to work for) major engineering firms. Where else are they going to go?”

Criticism of Snyder is tempered by a reluctance to offend the former councilman or his clients, but some city officials say privately that they do not approve of his presence during meetings in the areas of the council chambers reserved for sitting council members.

“Here’s a guy who’s nothing more than a two-bit lobbyist now walking up and down in the (council members’ section of the) council chambers,” said one city official who asked to remain anonymous.

Member Raises Issue

Councilwoman Joan Milke Flores, head of the council’s Rules Committee, which considers ethics, said one council member questioned whether it is appropriate for former council members to “be on this side of the ropes.” The question, prompted by Snyder’s conduct, was not pursued, she said.

Although city officials cite him as the most conspicuous, Snyder is not alone in his virtually unrestricted access. Former Councilman Debs, for one, flagrantly flouted the rules when, late this fall, he eased himself into an absent council member’s chair during a debate. Although Debs drew some startled glimpses from the gallery, he was not openly challenged by council members.

“I don’t particularly see a problem,” said Flores. “I think it’s a courtesy. . . I don’t think he (Snyder) or any other council member is disruptive.”

Evidence of Snyder’s aggressive courting of his former colleagues on behalf of himself and his clients came in a letter, written after his resignation, to council members. It bespoke the friendships he shares--and appealed to campaign bank accounts as well.

“Now that I’m out of the council and into the private sector, I’d like to be more directly of assistance to the members of the council personally,” began the letter, written on Snyder’s law firm stationery. It asked council members to put Snyder, renowned for his past fund-raising successes, on “the list” to receive invitations for fund-raisers, and assured them he would attend.

“Perhaps more important than that, however, is the fact that I will be representing some major clients in the Civic Center, some of whom have been regular contributors in the past, and others who have not. I would like your assistance in assuring that each of them will be participating in your events in a suitable manner. For this purpose, I would like, on an ongoing basis, to be in touch with those who will be running your fund-raisers, so that I can be certain that my clients are properly approached and that they respond appropriately.”

One high-ranking city official, clearly miffed, described the letter as “mind-boggling.” The official, speaking on condition he not be identified, called it out of line, “with all of his assets going into this, to send out a letter like that.”

Snyder, told of the reaction, looked mystified. Before sending it out, he said, he had taken pains to show the letter to a few council members whom he thought “might be affronted” and asked them to read it. No one responded negatively, he said.

“I didn’t want to offend,” he said. “I wanted to be helpful to my friends. . . . I consider them friends. I consider the council an important entity and I want to help. And anybody who doesn’t want the help, they don’t have to ask me for it.”

Expected to Be Effective

City officials who have worked with Snyder believe he will prove to be an effective lobbyist.

“He has enormous potential,” said Councilman Michael Woo. “He’s very adept at manipulating the bureaucracy.”

Councilwoman Flores said that Snyder, more than any other lobbyist, understands the idiosyncrasies of his former peers.

“He’d have a special way of directing a message to personalize it that other people, no matter how long they’ve been around the council, would not have,” she said. “He knows the things that are important and the specific no-no’s that you don’t do that others innocently might do.”

Snyder showed off some of that knowledge last month when, representing developer Watt before the Community Redevelopment Agency, he argued for approval of a downtown commercial project. Snyder pegged his argument to the positive impact he said the project would have for South Park, the major downtown residential development that, Snyder knew, is particularly dear to the CRA’s heart.

Even Snyder, who tends in interviews to downplay his influence, acknowledged that within City Hall and its environs, most people still treat him as if he was, in fact, still one of the Fifteen.

“I know everybody and they know me,” he said matter-of-factly. “The person that I have not met in that building is a relatively new employee or a very exceptional one.”

Ultimate Answer Remains

Still, it remains to be seen whether a successful legislator can become, over the long term, a successful lobbyist. Among effective lobbyists, the tone is set by low-key, almost anonymous professionals who make their points and retire from view, not upstaging the product with their personality.

Snyder, in contrast, has lived a career in the limelight amid more tumult than that surrounding other council members. With a flair for persuasive oratory and a barrio-boy-made-good braggadocio, he started political life as the council’s golden boy, but his prospects collapsed in a series of publicized reversals beginning in the late 1970s.

He and his second wife divorced, prompting a messy child custody suit. Years later, his 9-year-old daughter accused Snyder of molesting her, although the district attorney decided not to file charges. One of several accidents in a city-owned car led to a drunk-driving trial that ended in a hung jury. He was removed from a council committee and the regional Coastal Commission after complaints that he used the posts for fund-raising, and the state Fair Political Practices Commission fined him $14,000 for conflict-of-interest violations. Although she did not mention the past, Flores suggested that Snyder might suffer from “offsetting negatives.”

“Once you get out, you don’t get any credit for the things you did and you get all the blame,” she said.

In his talks around town, Snyder discusses in vague terms his idea of instituting a citywide “Friends of the Council” group that would, in effect, act as a council pep club.

Snyder said he has talked to several “persons of prestige” and they have reacted favorably to his concept. As Snyder envisions it, the group could sponsor get-togethers, educational opportunities, even stress seminars, all for council members.

“It’s important that their confidence--in themselves and what they’re doing and the institution that is theirs--be reinforced,” Snyder said, “and that they understand that they are really good people, which they are.”

No one on the council has publicly suggested that by such words, Snyder was simultaneously engendering good-will and reminding potential clients of his reach. Some members said that Snyder had always been the first to suggest informal council dinners or special council license plates, visual symbols of exclusivity of their club.

“One of the things he is is kind of the troop leader, the frat brother,” said Councilman Zev Yaroslavsky. “In his relationships he’s tried to develop (himself as) the ultimate team player, defender of the institution. That’s Art. I don’t think it’s particularly insincere.”

Talking in romanticized fashion of those he left behind and the stage they shared, Snyder can sound almost mournful. But for all the bittersweet tones, Snyder convincingly argues that he’s glad to be out, free of the strictures of public life and free of the constant oversight of the reporters he disdains. Now he alone can call the shots.

“A miserable job for that crappy pay, for all the rotten comment that you get,” he called the council experience during his Town Hall speech, amending himself later to acknowledge that perhaps the $50,000 annual pay was not all that bad.

His friends say he prepared well for his new career and has weathered what could have been a difficult transition with apparent ease.

“In a way, he can have the best of both worlds,” said Councilwoman Flores. “At least now he still sort of has the aura of a council member and gets that kind of respect.”

Snyder, relaxing during an interview, put it another way.

“To a lot of people that leave public life, a big transition is . . . loss of power,” he said, lighting his pipe. “Where I am, the power is in the ability, and not the status. And I still exercise power.”