‘Mr. Compton’ Leaves City Hall With Image Intact

City Councilwoman Patricia A. Moore was seated next to her good friend and colleague, Maxcy D. Filer, one day when she decided to chide him for wearing “those big white socks with that nice dark suit.”

Filer’s response typified the man whom admirers call independent and critics describe as uncompromising. “Most men would wear thin black socks,” he told Moore. “But I wear these white socks because this is comfortable for me. I’m wearing my clothes to please me, not anyone else.”

During his 15 years on the City Council, a period in which the city encountered almost insurmountable social and economic problems, Filer became known as the maverick--casting lone dissenting votes, grilling city staff about developers while others were rolling out the red carpet, criticizing city spending that he thought was excessive or otherwise out of line.

Filer’s career in public office came to a close June 30 when his council term expired and he embarked on a new career as a laywer. But to the end, he kept up his reputation as guardian of the public purse. He would not let the city give him a retirement party, and when the council presented him with a plaque of appreciation, he mopped away tears and quipped, “I believe this cost about $20, and that’s too much of the taxpayers’ money.”

Filer, 60, decided last year that he would not seek reelection, but entered the race for mayor after then-Mayor Walter R. Tucker died of cancer last fall. Filer was defeated in the April election by Tucker’s son, Walter R. Tucker Jr. Omar Bradley, a 32-year-old high school teacher, won Filer’s council seat in a runoff election in June.

Friends say that Filer was deeply disappointed over his defeat in a city that had nicknamed him “Mr. Compton” in recognition of his numerous civic activities, and had elected him to the council in the wake of a government scandal.

During a recent interview, however, Filer refused to dwell on the defeat. “I’m happy that it worked out the way it did,” he said.

Now, Filer plans to devote his time to a law practice. A month after his defeat, Filer was notified that he had passed the California State Bar exam--on his 48th attempt in 25 years. It was a feat of perseverance that made national headlines. Reporters descended on the modest law offices on Compton Boulevard where Filer worked as a law clerk for his son, Kelvin, before passing the bar.

Filer was elected to the council in 1976. Two city councilmen had been convicted and jailed that year for taking payoffs, and a special election was held to fill the council vacancies. A group of residents encouraged Filer and Jane D. Robbins to run for council. Filer was well known for his involvement in the NAACP and the PTA, and Robbins was a school principal and daughter of a longtime school superintendent in the city. Filer and Robbins were elected by comfortable margins.

Robbins, who was recently reelected, differed frequently with Filer on council issues, but said she has nothing but respect for her colleague. She said they decided many years ago that while they might disagree on issues, they would never be “disagreeable” with one another. Filer’s seven children went to Dickerson School where Robbins was principal for many years.

Filer also draws praise from Jessie Robinson, a longtime civic activist and founder of the NAACP chapter in Compton. “He’s a people’s man,” Robinson said. “He’s an Abraham Lincoln. He’s an earthy person, and people want that.”

Councilwoman Moore described Filer as the “conscience of Compton,” and said his attacks on questionable redevelopment policies paved the way for her successful campaign for council. She won a council seat in 1989 after attacking such ill-fated redevelopment projects as the Compton Auto Plaza and the Compton Ramada Hotel.

Moore said Filer put the city’s redevelopment failures in the spotlight and showed where the city lost large sums of money because it chose unreliable developers or failed to negotiate contracts that protected the city’s investment in a project.

Other city officials, Moore said, tried to hide the failures by propping up unsuccessful developers with bigger and bigger city loans. Filer fought that strategy, arguing that the city should not subsidize projects that did not generate tax revenue and jobs. “He’ll take a risk, be vocal on issues,” Moore said.

But she also pointed out that Filer would staunchly defend the city against disparaging remarks from the outside.

When Compton was depicted on “L.A. Law” as the epitome of a crime-ridden city, a lone picket appeared outside the television studio where the series is filmed. It was Filer. When TV talk show host Arsenio Hall made disparaging remarks about Compton, Filer fired off a letter of complaint.

“He truly loves Compton and all that it is, and it offends him personally for anyone to offend Compton,” Moore observed.

At the same time, though, Moore and others acknowledge that his uncompromising style has probably cost him significant political support.

“Sometimes you have to wear black socks. This is an impressionable community,” Moore said. “We dress up here. . . . Sometimes he was confusing to (the people). He (has) his own style and you can’t be that and be a politician all the time.”

Robinson, the civic activist, said Filer’s refusal to compromise is “his weak point. There’s no persuading him once he’s made up his mind. . . . I think politicians (have to be good at) the art of compromise. And if you are an idealist or you’re opinionated, I don’t think those are the qualities of a good politician.”

City Manager Howard Caldwell acknowledged that Filer’s painstaking review of redevelopment proposals was irritating to his colleagues, but pointed out that his dogged pursuit of unpopular issues sometimes paid off.

After a gunman with an assault rifle killed five schoolchildren in Stockton in 1989, Filer, a longtime advocate of gun control, persuaded the City Council to approve an ordinance banning the sale and possession of assault rifles. Compton became the first city to approve such an ordinance, a year before the state enacted a similar ban.

“That was true-grit Maxcy,” Caldwell said. “He was onto something, and he knew the time was right, despite a lot of opposition.”

Filer does not see himself as uncompromising. “I compromise,” he said. “But I don’t compromise principles. I think principles are sacrosanct. I compromise on issues and ideas,” he said.

Maxcy Filer was born in Marianna, Ark., a town of about 4,000, where his father worked as a baggage handler at the railway station and his mother taught school. He was one of five children.

Filer recalls how black children, most of them from very poor families, had to pay for their books and supplies, while white children got theirs free. He and other black youngsters would sift through the trash bins outside white schools in search of old textbooks.

As a child, Filer recalls watching his father pull out his own abscessed tooth with pliers because he did not have $2 to pay a dentist.

Filer decided he wanted to be a dentist, and moved to Indiana to train as a dental technician in an effort to gain admission to dental school. He completed his technician’s training but married and soon had children to feed, leaving no money for dental school tuition.

Tired of Midwestern winters, he moved the family to California in 1952, settling in Compton, which at the time had a predominantly white population. The Filers eventually bought a three-bedroom home on Arbutus Street, where the couple still live.

Son Kelvin remembers his father always had at least two jobs. For many years, he worked in one factory during the day, another at night. Still, Filer and his wife were among the leaders in the NAACP’s fight to integrate the city.

Kelvin Filer recalls listening late into the night while his parents and other activists talked in the living room, hammering out strategies.

Despite the long work hours and other activities, Maxcy Filer still managed to monitor his children’s work in school. Kelvin Filer said he can recall a number of times when he would walk into a classroom and find his father there. Kelvin Filer now serves as a trustee on the Compton Unified School District board.

Kelvin Filer says his father’s imposing presence, at a bulky 6-foot-4, and sonorous voice were all he needed to keep the children in line. “I remember when I was playing Little League baseball, I used to cry after every game we’d lose. I just hated to lose,” Kelvin Filer said. “Finally, he said to me, ‘Cry one more time and you’ll never play again.’ I have never cried since.”

Knowing that he could not go on forever working two jobs, Maxcy Filer started taking college classes in the ‘50s. He picked up credits enough to enroll in the now-defunct Van Norman Law School in Los Angeles, earning an undergraduate degree in political science and then his law degree in 1966.

Now, having passed the bar, Filer is a full-time attorney in his son’s law firm. His wife of 42 years, Blondell, is the office manager.

Filer said he became interested in the profession after recognizing the contributions of attorneys in the struggle for equality.

“I don’t look at the law as money. I look at the law as helping people,” he said, adding that he expects many of his cases to be court appointed.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I’ll be the most prepared person going to court you’ve ever seen,” he said.

‘Mr. Compton’ Maxcy D. Filer’s tenure on the Compton City Council ended June 30. He was first elected in 1976 to fill one of the spots vacated when two former councilmen were convicted and jailed for taking payoffs. Filer soon gained a reputation as an uncompromising maverick who kept a close eye on city spending. Here is a quick look at the man nicknamed “Mr. Compton.” Age: 60

Personal history: Born in Marianna, Ark., a town of about 4,000. Moved to Compton in 1952. Worked factory jobs for several years before attaining an undergraduate degree in political science and then a law degree in 1966, and--25 years and 48 attempts later--passed the California State Bar exam in May, 1991. Now an attorney in his son Kelvin’s law firm.

Principles of public service:

Don’t waste taxpayers’ money. “If you’re on a trip for the city, you don’t eat filet mignon when you eat hamburger at home.”

Don’t trade votes with colleagues. “I don’t scratch anyone’s back, and I don’t let anyone scratch mine.”

Conduct the public’s business in public. Filer once walked out of a closed meeting in which the council was discussing the city budget. He said the session violated the state’s Open Meetings Act, which limits closed meetings by government bodies to such specific matters as personnel.