Hail to the Chief

I’m applying for the job of L.A.’s chief of police, if and when Daryl Gates releases his shark-like bite on the position. He says he’s going to let go next April, but I’ll only believe it when he’s swimming off into the blurry sunset, leaving a fin trail in his wake.

The idea of applying came from an editor who said things could be worse than having me as chief, but he didn’t say how.

While probably intended as a joke, the idea has merit. True, I don’t know anything about being a cop, but how many presidents have we elected who have known anything about being President?

One of them, you’ll recall, couldn’t even say “Good morning” without a cue card and he was one of the most popular presidents we’ve ever had.

But I digress.

Paleontologists tell us the first chief of police probably emerged in a species called Homo erectus that existed about 1 million years ago, give or take an eon.

H. erectus, as he is known, fell between modern man and the chimp. Findings indicate he could kill, cook and reproduce, characteristics still valued by lawmen in modern industrial societies.

Fossil tools discovered in 1932 also suggest Homo erectus had developed a crude battering ram as a way of enforcing his will on others. A cylindrical device made of stone and animal skin may have been early attempts at inventing a microphone.

This has led to the belief that a police chief did exist and there was at least a primitive effort to control the population that roamed L.A. in the Upper Pleistocene. The search warrant hadn’t been created yet, but it wasn’t important. It still isn’t.

My idea of a good chief ranges somewhere between the early primates and W.C. Fields’ portrayal of Deputy Cuthbert J. Twillie in “My Little Chickadee.” He wasn’t always sober but he was always astute.

It was, in fact, Twillie’s philosophy that convinced Gates to give it all up. “If at first you don’t succeed,” Twillie said, “try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”

I telephoned around to ask how one applied for the position of chief and discovered getting information isn’t that easy.

My first call was to the Police Department itself. After listening through three recorded messages of a male voice telling me everyone was busy but “Please don’t hang up,” I was turned over to a human operator.

I said, “Hi. My name is Martinez and I would like to know how to apply for the job of police chief.”

After a long pause, she said, “Are you a chief now?”

I said no.

She said, “Are you a policeman?”

I said I was not.

Sometimes when I’m asked my profession I say I’m a male prostitute or a combat poet, but that didn’t seem applicable here.

I could hear conversation in the background (was the word “nut” used?) and then she gave me the number for City Hall personnel.

I telephoned personnel and told the woman who answered what I wanted. Apparently no one had asked about the process of applying because she seemed startled by the request.

She left the line for a moment and then returned to inform me, with some relief, that I had to speak with Don Laurence of the city Personnel Department’s Police and Fire Selection Division.

A pleasant man, Laurence seemed entirely unfazed by my request and promised that when guidelines were developed, he would mail them to me along with an application. We’ll see.

Cinelli, who is my wife, heard me applying for chief and wondered what I’d do if they chose me. I said I didn’t know.

“If you think you’re going to bring people around here to brutalize,” she said, “you’re crazy.”

“A chief doesn’t brutalize,” I assured her. “He just sets the standards and others do the brutalizing.”

“You’ll be good at that.”

As she thought about it more, she said I might make a good chief after all. I was stubborn, opinionated, hostile, intolerant, close-minded and absolutely convinced my way was best.

Those are all traits, by the way, associated with Homo erectus. Bear in mind, that if they weren’t useful, they’d have disappeared centuries ago.

Cinelli says the only things working against me are I don’t know any platitudes and I’m too short.

She’s probably right, so I’m studying platitudes and hoping that when Don Laurence mails me the guidelines for L.A.’s new chief, there won’t be size restrictions.

I’m not worried about intellectual qualifications. Whether I’m smart enough to be chief won’t matter. It hasn’t for the past million years.