Where the Bucks Don’t Stop

These are high times in the gloomy, rectangular box known as the Los Angeles County Hall of Administration.

That may come as a surprise, because the five county supervisors and assorted bureaucrats also are engaged in their annual struggle to balance a $10-billion-plus county budget in the face of sharply diminished revenues from Sacramento and Washington.

In fact, the county budget is so tight this year that the supes are contemplating reductions in the lifeguard force, fire station closures, cutbacks in the sheriff’s payroll and the withholding of badly needed additional help to overcrowded hospitals and health clinics. It’s worse than usual because the state, a main source of county revenue, also is in deep financial trouble.

But inside the supervisors’ eighth-floor office suites, the picture is much different, rosier. The same is true in the two floors occupied by the powerful county administrative officer, Richard B. Dixon, and in some nearby outposts of the county hierarchy.

Why? The supervisors tentatively have voted themselves and county department heads a $392-a-month “professional development allowance.” It can be used for anything, from computers and lawbooks to a summer in Spain. And if the proposal wins final approval, the lucky recipients won’t even have to keep receipts to show how they spent these public funds.

This allowance would bring the supervisors’ income to $103,497 a year.

Dixon, the county’s chief administrative officer, is the mastermind behind the self-improvement allowance. His salary would increase to $167,200.

Dixon, a county lifer, is the sort who’s hard to pick out in a crowd. There’s nothing memorable about his voice, speech or conservative suits. The most distinctive feature of his pleasant face is a pipe, his constant companion, on which he puffs during meetings, looking wise, listening, letting others talk too much.

That, in fact, is the secret of Dixon’s success, the explanation of his rise from the lowest rung of the county bureaucracy to the highest. He’s smart--and silent about all the tricks he’s learned in his many years at the Hall of Administration.

The “professional development ordinance” illustrates Dixon’s skill.

Section 1 of the ordinance is simple enough. It gives the “professional development allowance” to Superior Court judges, who were making $99,297 a year. Proponents of the stipend said it would make judicial appointments more attractive to attorneys, who make more in private practice. Municipal court judges, whose base pay is $90,680, received their “professional development allowance” two years ago.

Nowhere does the ordinance say it is giving Dixon, the supes, the D.A., the sheriff and the assessor more money.

The Dixon sleight of hand begins with Section 2, which gives the allowance to “County officers described in Article II, Section 4 or Article IV, Section 12 of the County Charter.”

Unless you kept a County Charter at your side, you’d have no way of knowing that the luminaries referred to are the supervisors, the sheriff, the D.A. and the assessor.

Move now to Section 3. It would give the allowance to “the employee compensated pursuant to Section 6.127.020A” of the county code. Without a copy of the county code, you wouldn’t know that the employee is none other than Richard Dixon.

The allowance would be retroactive to Feb. 1, 1990. That means the lucky county bosses will get another $6,664 in their paycheck, in addition to their monthly salaries. A nice bonus, and just in time for a nice summer vacation.

This may sound like the perfect hustle, but the timing is flawed.

Sure, the supes and Dixon will be able to scrape up enough dough for their self-improvement allowance. Less certain is whether they’ll be able to successfully beg from state legislators enough aid to help keep the rest of county government running.

Not only is there a huge state deficit, but Sacramento lawmakers don’t like Los Angeles County government. They’ve long felt the supervisors and top bureaucrats are overpaid and fat with perks.

The much-publicized allowance is certain to get a rise in Sacramento. And just imagine how mad the state legislators would be if they knew of the remodeling under way in Dixon’s office--new, dark-wood wall paneling, marble floor, thick new carpet, fine desks, tables and cabinets, the works. Dixon said he can’t even estimate the cost.

Frankly, the legislators, stuck in small, shabby offices, receiving $40,818 annual salaries and tax-free allowances of $88 a day most of the year, are jealous of stuff like this. They’re real dogs in the manger, begrudging the wealth of our county kingpins.

I can already hear them barking.