A 1989 RETROSPECTIVE : From the Frying Pan to the Fires : Images of L.A., Bradley, Sheriff’s Dept. Tarnished, but There Were Spots of Hope

From the city’s top to the county cops, 1989 was the year of the tarnished image.

Mayor Tom Bradley, despite winning an unprecedented fifth term, was buffeted by a long series of allegations stemming from his private dealings with brokerage houses and banks that do business with the city.

Accused by City Atty. James K. Hahn of having lost his ethical bearings, the mayor was hit with a city lawsuit for failing to disclose personal stock holdings. A settlement was reached in the suit just last week. And although Hahn declined to file criminal charges against his political ally, at year’s end a federal grand jury continued to probe what sources have said are possible insider trading and conflict-of-interest violations by Bradley.

The Sheriff’s Department, customarily viewed as a model of quiet efficiency, was rocked by allegations that deputies stole hundreds of thousands of dollars seized during drug raids. Thus far, 18 narcotics officers have been suspended by Sheriff Sherman Block as the investigation continues.

Two other sheriff’s deputies were fired after authorities accused them of burning a cross inside a Men’s Central Jail module housing black street gang members. They are appealing to get their jobs back.

Los Angeles itself, having basked in the afterglow of the 1984 Olympics for nearly half a decade, also lost some of its remaining luster in 1989.

A Times Poll revealed that a solid majority of local residents thought life here had gotten worse in the last 15 years. And the national news media, citing the Southland’s intensifying traffic, crime, smog, and high housing cost problems, played up reports of a region in regression.

“Los Angeles is racked with pollution, crack and AIDS,” stated one story in the New York Times.

“The dream that materialized for many is dying,” declared the Wall Street Journal.

Nonetheless, Los Angeles continued to be viewed by many as a beacon of hope and opportunity.

Refugees from war-torn and economically ravaged nations ranging from El Salvador to the Soviet Union flocked here in droves. The city even opened its arms to an extent, establishing its first official hiring site for day laborers in an effort to get immigrant workers off street corners.

Meanwhile, entrepreneurs from more affluent nations gobbled up familiar chunks of the firmament.

The Sony Corp. led the pack, purchasing Columbia Pictures for $3.4 billion, the largest U.S. acquisition to date by a Japanese firm. Other Japanese investors took over the Bel-Air and Biltmore hotels and the Riviera Country Club.

Saudi Arabian businessmen and arms brokers, for their part, secretly scooped up a major stake in leases of publicly owned Marina del Rey. The county Board of Supervisors approved the transaction despite the investors’ refusal to publicly disclose their identities.

Perhaps the ultimate example of the city’s melting pot real estate market: The French Hospital in Chinatown was purchased by a Japanese businessman.

Los Angeles was No. 1 in at least one dubious category in 1989. Federal authorities labeled the city the nation’s leading drug-distribution center. If vivid proof was needed, there was the world’s largest drug bust--20 tons of cocaine discovered by police after neighbors became suspicious of heavy truck traffic at a Sylmar warehouse ostensibly used to store velvet paintings and other gewgaws.

Drug, gang and random violence continued to plague the region in 1989. The murder rate increased by 15% in Los Angeles. The acts themselves plumbed new depths of senselessness.

In Compton, 2-year-old Phillip Fisher was killed in a gang drive-by shooting as he frolicked in his family’s front yard. In the Fairfax District, an obsessed fan from Tucson allegedly shot to death TV actress Rebecca Schaeffer at the front door of her apartment building. In South-Central Los Angeles, a pair of female churchgoers were slain during a worship service by a shotgun-toting assailant. In Carson, Mexican immigrant Irene Franco, 20, was abducted at gunpoint from a drive-in movie theater, repeatedly raped and then shot in the head, her crumpled body dumped in a field.

Psychological tremors from the Bay Area’s deadly 7.1-magnitude earthquake struck hard in temblor-prone Los Angeles in 1989. The Southland was also shaken by the passing of such animate, animating and inanimate institutions as Lucille Ball, Mel Blanc and the Los Angeles Herald Examiner.

Picket signs propagated, with teachers in Los Angeles and Beverly Hills taking to the streets to fight for higher wages and benefits.

Some significant structures ignited, with the Pan-Pacific Auditorium and 15 buildings in Westwood’s “Condo Canyon” neighborhood felled by two fires, the latter requiring the greatest mobilization of firefighters for a building blaze in the city’s history.

The year was one of pests--led by the county’s largest infestation of Medflies.

Only five days after the first of the tiny winged insects was found in a trap near Dodger Stadium, government helicopters launched a continuing series of malathion bombing raids. Government forces also released millions of sterile flies into the skies in an effort to breed the fertile flies out of existence. But the onslaught continued, spreading from Whittier north to the San Fernando Valley and south into Orange County.

Ash whiteflies wreaked havoc, too. Agricultural authorities imported parasitic wasps to combat the destructive swarms.

Speaking of swarms, 1989 was also the year of Zsa Zsa Gabor. The trial of the out-of-work actress turned cop-slapper was a nonpareil example of the sometimes symbiotic relationship between publicity-seeking celebrities and the media. What began as a minor traffic stop turned into a three-ring circus reported ‘round the world. In the end, Zsa Zsa was sentenced to three days in jail and fined. She has appealed.

Even in the world of sports--so often a refuge from real life--troubles abounded.

Thanks to a diet, Dodger manager Tom Lasorda’s stomach disappeared. But so did his team, which finished near the bottom of the heap a mere year after having won baseball’s World Championship. The two-time world champion Lakers, meanwhile, disappeared in the final round of the National Basketball Assn. championship series, losing four straight to the Detroit Pistons.

The football Raiders, meanwhile, indicated they may totally disappear from Los Angeles in 1990, returning north to offers of instant cash and more loyal spectator support.

But through it all, there were bright moments.

The Los Angeles Central Library, homeless since two devastating 1986 fires, reopened in bright and spacious temporary headquarters on Spring Street. Efforts to clean up the Santa Monica Bay received a major boost when the city agreed to spend $100 million to improve its aging sewage facilities, thereby settling an environmental lawsuit filed by the state.

And even in the worst of situations, there were heart-warming glimmers of human kindness.

As Christmas approached, Blanche Griffin found that her South-Central Los Angeles home had been looted while she was visiting her cancer-stricken young daughter in the hospital. When the incident was publicized, reaction was swift. Two police officers purchased replacement Christmas toys for Griffin’s five children. Her landlord found her a new home to move into. Former President Ronald Reagan called to offer her his best wishes. And new clothing, canned food and more than $3,500 in cash were dropped off at the Police Department’s 77th Street Division station for Griffin, who moved here from Arkansas two years ago to work as a domestic.

“This,” said Griffin, “is a miracle.”