Minority Groups Question Whether Blacks Can Get Ahead in Pasadena City Jobs

When members of the city’s minority community learned that two of the three finalists for the Pasadena city manager’s job were black, hopes rose that the city would break new ground and hire a top black administrator.

Instead, the Board of Directors selected Philip Hawkey, the white city manager from Toledo, Ohio, to replace retiring Pasadena City Manager Donald McIntyre. Hawkey’s selection reinforced the view, held by many Pasadena minorities, that blacks cannot get ahead in the city because they face a pattern of discrimination.

It also has renewed interest in five current and former black Pasadena administrators, whose names were cited by black activists last summer as proof of the city’s failure to promote and keep blacks in top city positions. Charges by the five--Deweylene (Dee) Henry, Prentice Deadrick, Eugene Stevenson, Doren Wade and Gerda Steele--prompted the Pasadena Board of Directors last year to call for a study of the city’s hiring policies. That study by PeopleWorks, a Los Angeles consulting firm, is due for release in a week.

Since last summer, one of the five has received a permanent managerial post with the city. Another is working in a nonsupervisory city job because his former position was abolished due to budget cuts; the other three have left city employment. At the time that the minority community was protesting the treatment of the five, city statistics showed that eight of 58, or 13.7%, of the “officials and administrators” positions were held by blacks.

Although some view the five as victims of city racial and sexual discrimination, Human Resources Director Ramon Curiel believes their situations are “instances of natural personnel activity.” He declined to comment on each case individually, however, citing privacy considerations and pending litigation.

But Curiel said that, in his 20 years of personnel experience with Los Angeles County, Orange County and the University of California, Irvine, he has seen similar instances of discrimination allegations that usually arrive in clusters at about the same time.

“Complaints, whether well-founded or not well-founded, are pretty much prevalent among most employers,” Curiel said.

However, all five believe that a pattern racial discrimination exists in Pasadena, and all say they have continued to fight the system in various ways:

Henry, former director of the city’s Employment Development and Community Services Department who was relieved of her job in October, last week filed a $10-million claim against an array of city officials, including the city directors, McIntyre, Curiel and Deputy City Manager Ed Aghjayan. The claim alleges that they engaged in harassment and sexual and racial discrimination against Henry by placing her on administrative leave, then demoting her and forcing her to resign.

“She is well-educated and had held a number of positions in management and certainly is not used to the kind of treatment she received at the hands of the employees of Pasadena,” said her attorney, Eric Ferrer. He claimed that she was singled out for a demotion because of her outspoken criticism of city practices.

She now receives state disability and is undergoing counseling to overcome her traumatic experience with the city, Ferrer said.

Deadrick’s career took a different turn.

“I’m the one out of the five that was treated fairly,” said Deadrick, 38, the city’s Community Services Coordinator. He oversees activities at the Villa-Parke and Jackie Robinson centers.

“I used to say the score was 1 to 4,” Deadrick said. “They won one (black administrator) and lost four.”

Deadrick, a Northwest Pasadena resident with a master’s degree in education from UCLA, began with the city in November, 1987, in a temporary job. He filled in as a supervisor at the Jackie Robinson Center and then stepped in as director for Stevenson, who had been appointed temporarily to oversee the city’s Health Department.

But when Deadrick’s temporary stint stretched on for 18 months--far longer than expected--he attracted the attention of minority activists, who protested.

Last November, Deadrick received a permanent job after competing with other candidates. But he has “mixed feelings.” He is proud to serve as a positive role model to young blacks but said he felt uneasy when McIntyre told him early on that his new job might force him to choose, at times, between siding with the black community or the city.

McIntyre said his comment was not race-directed, but was meant to emphasize that loyalty to the city was expected.

Deadrick said he saw no conflict between representing blacks and the city. “I told him I didn’t see two sides,” Deadrick said. “If I could represent the interests of the community, that’s what’s best for the city.”

Stevenson, the man Deadrick replaced for a time, has left city employment.

A 12-year City Hall veteran with a master’s degree in social work from the University of Southern California, Stevenson began his career as the Robinson center director. In 1987, he was transferred to the Health Department as acting director, a job that earned him “superior” and “meritorious” evaluations, he said.

Nonetheless, Stevenson said he could not translate his on-the-job experience into Civil Service test scores high enough to qualify him as the permanent director. He attributed his poor showing to bias against him and two other black male candidates who scored at the bottom of an eight-candidate pool. He contends that similar bias may have prevented him from receiving promotions in the city on seven other occasions, despite scores in the top of the applicant pool.

City officials would not comment on the specifics of Stevenson’s situation, but said they were looking for someone with a medical degree to head the Health Department.

Stevenson said his prospects might have been harmed by his outspoken criticism of the city and by a racial discrimination claim he filed Jan. 19 against the city. That claim was denied March 14. Stevenson said he plans to file a lawsuit.

The city in January offered him his old job at the center, but Stevenson, after assuming the post for a short time, quit and resettled in Miami.

“The city could essentially yank me back and put me back in a position I started in 12 years ago,” he said. “I was forced to leave because of the action. They humiliated me.”

Wade, 47, the former Community Development Block Grant administrator for six years, protested when his job was eliminated in budget cuts last July. Members of the city’s Resource Allocation Committee also protested.

Wade was given a temporary job in the Risk Management Department. In January, he transferred to a job in personnel, a nonadministrative position in which he oversees no other workers or budgets. The position of personnel assistant is a step down, Wade said. He said he is not sure whether filing a racial discrimination claim would be the proper solution.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for the city and my family,” Wade said. “I have to think about the city because my family has been here since the 1920s.”

As a single father rearing two sons, Wade said he wants his sons to watch him progress in his career based on his hard work and qualifications and not on the filing of lawsuits or claims against the city.

Two of the five, Henry and Steele also claimed sexual and racial harassment.

“I had reached a ceiling at City Hall and the only way to break through that ceiling was if I allowed myself to be a victim of sexism and racism,” said Steele, 48, former executive director of the city’s Commission on the Status of Women and a city employee for seven years. She said she would have had to tone down her criticism of racist and sexist practices if she wished to get ahead.

Her decision to leave in January was also reinforced by a break-in two years ago at City Hall offices where a number of blacks worked. The intruder, who was never caught, left racial graffiti scrawled on the office walls. Steele said she never again felt safe in city offices and underwent counseling.

With a doctorate in education from Columbia University, Steele said she now does management consulting work for various Southern California companies. In addition, she hosts talk shows on Pasadena’s cable television station and the Pasadena City College public radio station.

“It was easy for me to leave because I had set things up about a year in advance,” she said. “I rolled from the city right into consulting.”