Night of the ‘Hammer’: Retaking the Streets of South L.A.

Four young men lay face down on the asphalt of a South Los Angeles street, while a police helicopter circled overhead, illuminating the scene with an eerie, flickering light.

A half-dozen police cars blocked the street and officers poured out with weapons drawn on the suspected gang members.

No drugs or guns were found, but a husky man with braided hair was found to be driving without his license so police, as one officer sardonically put it, arrested his car.

‘Taking Their Wheels’

“We’re taking their wheels and putting them on their heels,” said Sgt. Rey Avalos.

It was early Sunday morning, and Los Angeles police officers were in the second day of an anti-gang sweep their supervisors have named “Operation Hammer.” From Saturday night through Sunday morning, about 250 officers moved through crime-heavy neighborhoods, seeking to “put pressure” on gangs, said Deputy Chief William Rathburn.

The operation, reviving a show-of-force tactic that debuted last year, by late Sunday had resulted in 221 arrests of gang members. But Operation Hammer differs from the big sweeps last year, when Chief Daryl F. Gates declared war on “rotten little cowards.” Last summer, 1,000 officers were deployed on the streets and paid overtime; this time there were fewer officers and no overtime.

Nonetheless, the Fourth of July weekend raids appeared to be fulfilling their major purpose: People were taking notice.

There were more arrests Friday night and Saturday morning than during the second round, which ended at 3 a.m. Sunday. Avalos, cruising darkened streets in his patrol car, said it seemed quiet--evidence, he surmised, that the operation was working.

“You hit them hard one night,” he said, “it has to have an effect.”

Rathburn had set the tone for Operation Hammer’s second night at roll call just after 6 p.m., when he addressed tidy ranks of uniformed officers behind the Southeast Division police station in Watts.

“There are 550,000 people in the South areas and most of them are good people, believe it or not,” said the white-haired deputy chief. “We want to reassure them they can enjoy the beaches and parks, that they can get out in their front yards without being terrorized.”

He reminded the officers that the strongest support for a bond issue to build new police facilities came from this community.

“Wave to the people when you drive by,” he counseled.

Rey Avalos, 30, an 11-year veteran who still enjoys working the streets, began the evening by warning a passenger to “get as low as you can” if shooting started. He spoke from experience, having been shot at several times himself in the course of duty.

The bespectacled, wavy-haired policeman punched up his on-board computer, which he uses to keep track of the activities of the five cars working under him. Looking for trouble, he headed for the projects, public buildings with boarded windows, surrounded by forlorn shops.

One of his teams stopped three Latino men from the Colonia Watts gang and drew a large crowd. All three had their hands on the hood of the police car and one, whom the officers knew as Little Ricky, was denying everything.

“You got a felony warrant,” officer Kathy Meek said after checking the computer for warrants.

No, he said, that’s not him. He was arrested anyway.

“Who else is going to give me a surprise?” asked Meek’s partner, David Armas. But there were no more surprises. Little Ricky’s two friends loped off. And the crowd dispersed.

Curiosity to Gladness

Community reaction to the increased police presence ranged from curious expressions on the faces of people as they watched the police cars, to the outright pleasure of a community activist who said, “I wish they would do this every weekend.”

Police officials conceded that some of those arrested and taken to jail will be out on bail in no time. But that was not the point of the exercise, they said. One of the points was to demonstrate to gang members that they do not control the neighborhoods.

Despite the heavy police presence, the neighborhoods didn’t look like communities under siege. People milled about on the streets, or sat in front of their houses in lawn chairs, taking in the action.

When arrests were made, however, the ominous sound of screeching tires cut through the serenity, signaling the convergence of police cars. A helicopter hovered frequently overhead, so much so that the thumping of its rotors came to seem almost like white noise.

Trouble at Concert

Avalos was thinking about dinner about 8 p.m. Saturday when a call came over the radio that snapped his head forward to attention: All Operation Hammer units were to report to the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. He headed for the freeway.

A second call came in: “Make sure you have your riot gear and helmets.”

Trouble had broken out at a rap music concert. Parking outside the stadium, Avalos snapped down the visor on his white LAPD helmet and walked across the grass toward a gate. Suddenly, there were screams and 1,000 people ran straight for him.

“Shots fired,” someone in the throng yelled.

Inside, teams of police lined up, while others ordered concert-goers out of the stadium. Rathburn said there had been three stabbings at the concert and a shooting at a gasoline station outside the Coliseum. An usher said that a crowd inside the concert wrestled a man with a pistol to the ground and disarmed him; police could not confirm the incident.

When the police reached full strength, the officers moved in neatly ordered ranks, like Roman columns, through the Coliseum, clearing it out.

Later, back at the station house which served as the Operation Hammer command post, an easel showed 47 arrests so far, 30 of them gang members. People in handcuffs sat in a row in a hallway, chatting as though they had been through the routine many times before.

Back on the streets by 11 p.m., Avalos caught up with Meek and Armas and asked what they found.

“I caught a litterbug,” Meek joked.

She was right, there wasn’t much going on.

“It was a lot more active last night,” said Avalos. He did not sound disappointed.

A message to all officers flashed on to the patrol car computer screen: Rathburn himself had just made a drunk driving arrest.

“He stated if he can do it, anyone can,” read the message.

The radio stopped squawking. Cruising past a park, however, Avalos spotted two patrol cars parked under trees near the brick restroom. It looked like action.

“Got anything in the park?” he asked over the radio. A terse reply informed him that, no, the officers merely were answering nature’s call.

Avalos cruised past the housing projects again. There was a shot off to the right.

Streets Are Silent

“That perked up my ears a little bit,” he said. He circled around, moving past silent frame houses on largely unlit streets.

Three young men appeared out of the darkness, swaggering down the street. One caught Avalos’ eye.

“Hi,” he said insolently.

Avalos, ignoring him, chose not to wave. The source of the gunfire went undetermined.

Past midnight, the radio came to life again. Several cars filled with suspected gang members were weaving in and out of traffic. The police had decided to stop one of them. It took Avalos only a few minutes to arrive as backup. Yet, by the time he got there, five other patrol cars and the helicopter were in place. And more kept coming.