‘Super Gadfly’ Had His Day in Court . . . Lost : City hall: Municipal Court jury convicts Daniel Rosenberg after city officials testify that he illegally disrupted a City Council meeting. He claimed free speech.

As the self-anointed “super gadfly” of Long Beach, Daniel Rosenberg considers it an honor to be one of the most despised men in City Hall. And he was proud to be on trial this week on charges that he disrupted a City Council meeting.

Among the witnesses called to testify were Mayor Ernie Kell, a councilman, a city attorney and a police officer.

“These people are my archenemies,” said Rosenberg, 61, during a break in the trial. “They don’t like me because I’ve told the truth and fought the Establishment, and now they want my head.”

City officials say that over the years Rosenberg’s discourses at council meetings have become as predictable as the chiming of the nearby town clock. They say Rosenberg hurts the very process he espouses by monopolizing the floor with comments.

Relations are so bad that councilmen roll their eyes as soon as the activist approaches the microphone. The mayor has taken to shutting off the microphone during especially long-winded comments.

“He’s no gadfly,” said one councilman who asked to remain anonymous. “He’s just a pain in the ---.”

On March 20, Rosenberg was arrested after he kept talking about an item that councilmen suddenly postponed to a future hearing. Rosenberg, shouting at one point to be heard after Kell turned off his microphone, insisted that he had a right to speak.

Confusion ensued as the mayor asked Rosenberg to sit down, requested advice from a city attorney, declared a recess and finally had a police officer escort Rosenberg out of the chambers.

Rosenberg was held on suspicion of violating a city code that prohibits the “disruption” of a City Council meeting and was released on his own recognizance. A Municipal Court jury found Rosenberg guilty Wednesday, and he faces a penalty of up to six months in jail and a $500 fine.

Efforts to settle the case continued until minutes before the trial began Monday, sources said, when Rosenberg rejected an offer from the prosecution to plead no contest in return for 40 hours of community service.

“I have to stand up for what I think is right,” Rosenberg said before the trial began. “I’m not being reckless.”

About a dozen people, including several city officials and a few of the city’s colorful swarm of gadflies, watched this week as Rosenberg’s trial became a new theater for the longstanding feud between Rosenberg and city politicians.

During opening arguments Tuesday, public defender Ray Glaser suggested that Rosenberg’s right to free speech is at stake.

“This is someone who woke up on the morning of March 20 with a mission . . . to go to a council meeting . . . for people who were too sick and tired,” Glaser said, thumping Rosenberg on the back.

The jury stared at Rosenberg, who was wearing an old suit and scribbled notes on scraps of paper.

The prosecution focused on Long Beach city laws. “His conduct prevented (the council) from getting on with city business,” argued the deputy city prosecutor, Susan Melton.

The high point of the trial so far occurred Wednesday, when Rosenberg himself walked to the witness stand. It was a different platform than what he is used to, but Rosenberg calmly answered questions.

Rosenberg said that based on his experience of attending “more than 200” meetings of the City Council, he believes that the council violated its own customs when it refused to allow him to speak.

He also implied that he is a victim of politics. “I’ve never seen the mayor turn the mike off when a developer is at the microphone,” he said. “But when a citizen-activist is at the mike, he turns it off.”

At least half a dozen times during about 30 minutes of testimony, Municipal Court Judge John S. Lane reprimanded Rosenberg for speaking out of turn and not sticking to the point.

During one scolding, Rosenberg threw up his hands and grinned at the jury.

Kell, the first witness called to the stand, sat stiff and poker-faced during cross-examination Tuesday. Glaser questioned the mayor’s knowledge of council procedures. While Kell seemed unsure of his responses at times, he steadfastly insisted that Rosenberg’s behavior had been “extremely disruptive.”

The prosecution’s second witness was Councilman Evan Anderson Braude, who had moved to postpone the item that Rosenberg had planned to discuss during the March meeting. When the prosecutor asked Braude whether Rosenberg was at the council meeting on the day of the alleged crime, the councilman responded with what appeared to be a grimace: “He usually is.”

“Objection!” Glaser yelled.

City officials complain that ever since cable TV began broadcasting council meetings seven years ago, there has been an increase in the number of people like Rosenberg who regularly show up for council meetings.

These regulars range from activists from the city’s growing number of grass-roots organizations to a handful of others that some councilmen privately call “the chronic cranks.”

As a result, some council meetings drag on all day, costing the city not only time in personnel but $15.30 a minute for TV costs, according to City Manager James Hankla.

The cameras stay on for Thomas (Ski) Demski, a large man who sometimes has a parrot sitting on his shoulder. Demski has addressed the council on his right to fly a huge flag that neighbors complain keep them awake at night because it crackles in the wind.

Another frequent commentator is Henry Graber, 86, who last week, with a cane and wobbly voice, compared the council to Scrooge and lectures members about socialism.

And there is the elderly woman given to pink clothes and beads who discusses calculus and jewelry.

But nobody triggers quite the reaction as Rosenberg does when he ambles to the microphone, a tape recorder in his vest pocket, a tiny hourglass in one hand and a sheath of papers in the other.

“That’s usually when I get up and go have a drink of water,” Councilman Jeffrey Kellogg said.

Unfortunately, he said, some of his colleagues stick around and “take his bait” every week.

Rosenberg was in action again during last week’s council meeting, and Councilman Warren Harwood bit.

“I’ve had it with this fellow! I have not had a chance to say ‘boo!’ ” Harwood sputtered shortly after Rosenberg walked up to the podium.

Kell then asked the city manager to look into ways that the council can restrict access to the microphone. A report on the matter is expected to be reviewed during next week’s meeting. The public can now comment on any topic before the council starts its agenda, in addition to discussing matters on the agenda.

After one Rosenberg appearance early last year, the council in April, 1989, reduced from five minutes to three the time that the public can speak about a matter on the agenda.

Rosenberg has been one of the city’s pioneer grass-roots organizers, helping to mobilize citizens around growth-related issues.

However, many organizations have since divorced themselves from him. “Dan always had great ideas, but it was very difficult to work with him,” said Alan Lowenthal, president of Long Beach Area Citizens Involved. “Sometimes he rams things down people’s throats.”

Rosenberg has run unsuccessfully for City Council twice and recently lost a bid to become mayor. Some councilmen say he was grandstanding for his mayoral campaign when he was arrested in March.

Activism is a late-blooming passion for Rosenberg.

In the 1970s Rosenberg, the father of two, quit his job as a medical technician and went through a divorce. During those years, he worked as a mate on a fishing ship, taught school and traded collectibles at flea markets.

He wasn’t too good at selling collectibles, he said, because he couldn’t let anything go--a trait also cited by some of his critics. His apartment is crammed with dusty dolls, straw hats, stuffed animals, books, shoes and miniature animals.

Piles of videotapes from public hearings are in a box in his bedroom. Last weekend, a dozen stacks of papers Rosenberg had compiled for his trial were on the kitchen table and floor.

There were articles about council meetings he had addressed, as well as transcripts. Rosenberg had scrawled questions in their margins and underlined certain portions, including his comments, in yellow, red and green. He took a folder of these materials to his trial and frequently offered them, along with advice, to his attorney.

“This is my life,” he said, gesturing at the papers.

Rosenberg said his daughter is urging him to tone down his activism because of his health problems, including high blood pressure and what he called an irregular heartbeat. Jane Rosenberg, a biologist who lives near San Diego, said she was unaware of her father’s heart problem.

She said she actually has been concerned because “he works so hard on his causes that he neglects himself and forgets that he has to earn a living and pay rent.”

Rosenberg said he is doing something about that.

On Friday, he was scheduled to take a civil service examination for a job as an administrative analyst.

His potential employer? The City of Long Beach.

BACKGROUND Activist Daniel Rosenberg was arrested March 20 in the Long Beach City Council chamber after insisting on speaking about the planned closure of an Alpha Beta supermarket across the street from his apartment. As Rosenberg came forward to comment, Councilman Evan Anderson Braude said that discussion of the issue had been postponed. Rosenberg persisted, contending that the delay would make the issue moot. Mayor Ernie Kell eventually asked a policeman to remove the activist from the room. Rosenberg said later he opposed the supermarket closure, contending that elderly and handicapped residents in the area would have more difficulty buying food. A CVS drugstore now occupies the supermarket site.