For Block, It’s Still an Easy Race

By any known political measure, Sherman Block, who has been sheriff of Los Angeles County since 1982, is a perfect target for some ambitious hot-shot eager for the $157,641-a-year job.

Block’s had a bad year.

Just as the nation was beginning its latest “war on drugs,” 18 members of his elite narcotics team were accused of skimming money seized in raids. There also has been criticism, especially from minorities, about trigger-happy or fist-happy deputies, the latest controversy involving the fatal shooting of a 27-year-old Nation of Islam member.

Also in the past year, a former deputy publicly accused Block’s department of discriminating against black deputies and inmates in the Central Jail. And on two occasions, the sheriff’s 911 dispatchers generated criticism for refusing to help callers. In one of those cases, four people were shot to death in a Latino neighborhood.

But candidate filing begins next week and no substantial challenger--nobody with a chance of beating Block--has surfaced. In other cities, a man in Block’s position would be madly fleeing town, pursued by a mob of journalists and politicians. Why not Block?

Part of the reason can be found in the personality of the sheriff himself, who comes across more like a nice uncle than a tough cop.

I visited him Monday afternoon at his office in the old Hall of Justice at 2nd Street and Broadway, the site of criminal trials before the Criminal Courts building was opened. I walked past the corner where some of the Manson girls had sat during the Manson Family’s trials, and into the marble lobby where the best and the worst of the county’s criminal bar used to hang out. The guard pushed some buttons, and I was admitted through security doors to the sheriff’s second-floor office.

After that gloomy trip, the inside of Block’s office was a pleasant surprise, with rag dolls on a director’s chair and other whimsical mementos scattered around. Block is a bald, middle-aged man with a comfortably solid waistline. He sat in a chair next to mine, drinking coffee, relaxed and confident.

The bad year, he said, had taken a toll, especially the narcotics squad scandal, which he called “the most difficult thing I’ve had to deal with in all my years in the department.” But he was sure he’d keep his job. He said he thinks the public likes him and spoke of a “reservoir of good will.” This, he said, enabled him to be out front and deal with “these things.”

The reason this strategy seems to have worked--and a main reason why Block has no opposition--is that Los Angeles voters have a peculiar view of the job of sheriff, who oversees a force of 7,000 deputies. Voters--in fact, even the press--have never viewed the office as a normal political post, subject to the attacks faced by mayors, governors, presidents or members of a city council.

It’s been a hand-me-down office, at least since 1932, when Sheriff William I. Traeger, just elected to Congress, supported the Board of Supervisors’ appointment of his popular undersheriff, Eugene Biscailuz. Biscailuz ran unopposed six times before handing off the job to his favorite, Peter Pitchess. When Pitchess retired, he made Block his designated successor.

Block has never faced a strong opponent. This tradition tends to politically neutralize the sheriff’s No. 2 man, who in other counties often can pose a formidable alternative to the sheriff.

Finally, Block is impregnable because of money. The 69 pages of his latest campaign contribution report tell the story--$352,271 of cash on hand, from oil companies, from waste disposal firms, from lawyers, land developers, restaurant owners, unions, bankers and retailers. These are all members of “the county family,” businesses, organizations and individuals whose business is intertwined with county government.

Block is a powerful member of that government and none of the “county family” would ever hold “these things” against him and support a challenger. In the absence of public financing, there’ll be no credible challenge.

So Block’s bad year will be followed by an easy reelection campaign. That’s good for the sheriff, and his friends believe he deserves it.

But it also means that the Block record will not be examined by the public in the traditional combat of a contested election campaign. He won’t face the hard questions, and the office of sheriff will remain a $157,641-a-year hand-me-down.