FACE-TO-FACE DEMOCRACY : In an age when the 30-second TV spot typifies political communication, old-fashioned town meetings give voters a rare chance to make personal contact with their elected representatives.

White-haired Stanley K. Simmel, clad in a purple outfit sporting a large Magic Muffler patch, had again interrupted his congressman in mid-sentence.

“You boys are doing all right,” he told Rep. Anthony C. Beilenson (D-Los Angeles) on a recent Saturday morning at Pomelo Drive Elementary School in Canoga Park.

“Yes, sir, you’re quite right,” Beilenson quipped. “I’d like to put one of your mufflers on you.”

Undaunted, Simmel continued: “You got to streamline the Peace Corps so people will be taught how to plant instead of starve.”

“You’ve got a lot of good ideas,” Beilenson said, seeking to get back on point.

“Oh, you oughta listen,” Simmel retorted.

Beilenson, in fact, was there to listen. He was also there to talk--about events in Washington, his positions on issues and about any other topic that arose. And, not incidentally, he hoped to win respect, if not votes, from those who decide every two years if he keeps his job.

The Tarzana Democrat was conducting a town meeting, a ritual that, in one form or another, has been a staple of grass-roots American democracy since the colonists first gathered in New England. It is a freewheeling forum in which constituents can query their representatives, give them a piece of their minds or buttonhole them to help solve personal problems with government.

“If you do them often enough, you cannot help but be in touch with your constituents, their concerns and their problems and their anxieties and their feelings,” Beilenson said shortly after last month’s two-hour meeting. “That’s the crux of your job.”

Rare Opportunity

In this media-dominated age, when 30-second television spots and carefully crafted mailings typify political communication, such face-to-face contact with a member of Congress offers taxpayers a rare sense of involvement.

“People feel remote from their representatives, who are frequently labeled ‘misrepresentatives,’ ” said William L. Stewart of Canoga Park, who has attended several Beilenson forums. “These kinds of gatherings give people a feeling of real American participation.”

Although many representatives agree that the forums allow them to reap political benefits as well as learn what is on their constituents’ minds, not all members of Congress hold them. They are not required to do so.

“Usually you end up with a group of people you went to high school with, people you would end up seeing at many other” community events, said Rep. Howard L. Berman, a Panorama City Democrat who hasn’t held a town meeting since 1983. “We just weren’t getting that many people.”

He said as few as 10 to 15 people would show up after he had sent 10,000 to 15,000 invitations. Other congressmen report that they generally draw 100 to 300 residents to their periodic forums. About 75 people attended Beilenson’s recent Canoga Park session.

Unimpressive Turnouts

Several of those at recent town meetings sponsored by Beilenson and Rep. Carlos J. Moorhead (R-Glendale), expressed disappointment that the auditoriums were half-empty.

“I’m just frustrated because people won’t come,” said Frances Parmentier of Glendale, a regular at Moorhead’s forums. “I ask friends and they just don’t want to come. They say they’re not interested enough. It’s apathy. This is the thing they should be most interested in.”

The risk of holding the meetings, other representatives say, lies not in how many respond but in the unpredictability of who responds. Groups vehemently opposed to a lawmaker’s views, political extremists or individuals with emotional problems can pose thorny challenges.

“A lot of my friends wouldn’t do it on a bet,” Moorhead said. “They think the potential controversy you can get with all the different concepts and ideas is not worth it.”

Animated Exchange of Views

But this free play of ideas can also lead to lively political theater.

At Moorhead’s recent town meeting at the Glendale Public Library, Kevin Wilby took issue with several of President Reagan’s actions, including the invasion of Grenada and arms sales to Iran.

“Where do you stand on impeachment and bringing that up on the floor?” asked Wilby, a teacher from La Crescenta.

“I stand with the rest of the members of Congress,” Moorhead replied. “There’s no grounds for that.”

When Wilby sought to ask a follow-up question, many of the approximately 125 people in the audience heckled him.

“The Grenadians are glad we went down there, jerko!” one man yelled.

“Who are you speaking for, the Soviets?” interjected another. “Sit down,” others demanded.

“Let me change my question,” Wilby said, peering directly at Moorhead. “Do you think I should be shouted down when I’m trying to ask my representative a question?”

Moorhead then offered a more detailed answer to Wilby’s original query.

Wilby later said of those who had tried to silence him: “I think they sometimes overlook the freedoms that brought them to this town meeting.”

Payoffs at the Polls

Whatever fireworks they may ignite, for most vote-conscious officeholders, these sessions pay generous dividends.

“There’s great political value for members in that town meetings send out the signal that you’re there, you’re getting feedback, you’re interested in what your constituents think--all the kinds of things we expect of a representative,” said Norman J. Ornstein, a scholar on Congress at the American Enterprise Institute, a Washington research organization.

“And it’s an opportunity to tell people what you’re doing in Washington.”

The benefits extend well beyond the small audiences. Congress members generally mail tens of thousands of publicly subsidized invitations, a relatively inexpensive way to convey their accessibility. Beilenson, for instance, sent out 27,000 cards for the Canoga Park meeting. Moorhead includes a photo of himself on his notice.

These periodic mailings are especially valuable because federal law limits representatives to six publicly subsidized districtwide newsletters a year. There is no limit on town-meeting notices.

Opportunity to Attract Media

News coverage can help lawmakers get even more political mileage out of town meetings. Former Rep. Bobbi Fiedler, a Northridge Republican, recalled a 1983 town meeting that she held in Thousand Oaks on the same day that details of a controversial proposal to overhaul Social Security were disclosed in Washington.

Seizing an opportunity to attract coveted Los Angeles television coverage, Paul Clarke, then Fiedler’s administrative assistant, informed the stations that Fiedler planned to raise the Social Security issue at the meeting. Channels 2 and 7 used it as a local angle on a national story.

Town meetings are one tool that incumbents use to build nearly unbeatable recognition and popularity, said Richard Fenno, a University of Rochester political scientist who has written about Congress members at work in their districts. Others are mobile offices, frequent news conferences, larger staffs for constituent problems and newsletters. Only six incumbents were defeated in 1986, whereas 385 were reelected. Another 44 open seats were filled.

Inherent Dangers

Media coverage of town meetings, however, underlines the dangers inherent in inviting thousands of people to talk about whatever cause or concern moves them.

“The risk is that you’ll get hit on an issue that you didn’t expect and get a lot of negative reaction and negative press from it,” Fiedler said.

Still, current and former representatives interviewed in recent weeks said that most sensitive situations can be defused with common sense and courtesy.

Fiedler recalled that a man stood up at a Sunland-Tujunga town meeting and said the Russians were sending signals through American television sets and Congress should put a stop to it. Fiedler said she responded, amid audience giggles, “Thank you. I appreciate your letting me know.”

Confrontation Turned Around

Last summer, Moorhead’s Democratic opponent, John G. Simmons, turned up at a town meeting in an attempt to force Moorhead to debate him. Rather than accede to Simmons’ request, Moorhead handed the microphone to his challenger. Simmons found an unreceptive audience.

“Go to the Westside,” one man shouted, suggesting that Simmons’ liberal views were more representative of Santa Monica than Glendale.

Beilenson says that when he is verbally attacked or someone becomes disruptive, members of the audience often step in.

“Other people of all persuasions rally to your support, both to protect you and to quiet such a person down so they can have a chance to ask their questions and listen to a responsible dialogue,” he said.

Focus on Major Issues

Most questioners, however, are polite and respectful. Discussions tend to focus on major issues in the headlines: immigration, tax reform, arms control, Central America. Constituents generally wait until after the meeting to approach their representative or accompanying aides about personal problems with government bureaucracy.

At his recent meeting, the professorial-sounding Beilenson fielded questions about congressional salaries, the federal deficit and health care.

He reassured Patsy Walker, a registered nurse from Reseda, that Congress was determined to unearth the truth during its Iran- contra inquiry, and Lura Anderson, a Reseda mother of seven, that President Reagan was unlikely to dispatch American troops to Nicaragua.

“Mr. Reagan, though he talks tough to the Russians, acts tough to the Grenadians and to the Libyans and to the little guys who you can pummel without getting hurt in return,” Beilenson said, getting in a partisan swipe. “He’d rather send $100 million a year to the contras and let them do the dirty work for us.”

Beilenson says he relishes these meetings because he can explain his positions on complicated issues--such as why he believes that taxes must be raised to reduce the federal deficit--in more depth than he can in letters. The 54-year-old attorney regards the forums as the best way to educate voters.

“It’s useful for people to see that their representative is at least a rational and sensible person who, even though they may disagree with him about something, makes a certain amount of sense when they talk to him,” Beilenson said. “And they can see that he’s honestly trying to do the right thing.”

For Walker, the nurse from Reseda, Beilenson’s session was her first town meeting. “It would make me more likely to vote for him because at least I have a clue as to his intentions and where he stands on things,” she said afterward.

And, of course, the meeting attracted the usual colorful character: in this case, the 73-year-old Simmel, who handed out purple advertisements for his employer, Magic Muffler, at the front door. A self-described “freedom man,” his gravelly voice periodically interrupted Beilenson’s until the crowd shushed him.

“Well, is it the truth? Is it fair? Is it beneficial? And will it show good will and friendship?” Simmel blurted out during a discourse on congressional salaries.

Beilenson generally responded to Simmel’s outbursts with tongue firmly in cheek.

“I don’t know what a congressman should be paid,” Beilenson said at one point. “Some of us are worth a lot more than others, I got to tell you.”

“You can say that again,” Simmel said.

Not missing a beat, Beilenson deadpanned: “Some of us are worth a lot more than others.”