Angelenos Couch Good Wishes for Williams in Cautious Tones

On the day Willie L. Williams swore on the Bible to protect Los Angeles and dignitaries dared to call this battered town the City of Angels again, residents from Reseda to Watts responded with guarded words, such as hope, patience, and healing, to describe their outlook for the city’s future.

After a year of unprecedented divisiveness inside City Hall and an explosion of civil unrest in the streets, the residents who make up the “very diverse and vibrant city” that the new police chief described in his opening remarks voiced an array of opinions about the future of police protection.

And just as Williams was greeted by four polite standing ovations rather than roars of approval, residents tempered their good wishes with cautious tones, mindful that no one person can relieve the city’s entrenched problems.

“We’re hopeful, but too many bad things have happened for us to call Williams a godsend,” said Steve Soto, president of the Mexican-American Grocers Assn.

Others were equally quick to offer their preliminary assessment of the new chief as the official change of command ceremonies unfolded inside the gated field of the Los Angeles Police Academy. Some defended the tenure of Daryl F. Gates.

A Crenshaw High School counselor said she felt “energized” by the event. A Reseda businessman--a retired police officer and self-described member of the “old-guard”--said policing has gone soft. And in Koreatown, business owner John Kin, whose swap meet was damaged in the riots, said merchants are uncertain about what changes Williams might bring.

“We’re praying it will be good,” he said.

The mood at the Police Academy was purposefully subdued, a regimented celebration by about 1,200 people, including scores of uniformed police officers snapping pictures of each other with colleagues and families. Amid the color guard and salutes, many officers formed a perimeter around the event, as if it were a crime scene, ignoring empty chairs and standing stoically on the edge of the field.

Despite the throngs of city and police officials in attendance, a smattering of civilians sat in the white folding chairs to soak up a firsthand look at Los Angeles history-in-the-making.

“This is a very joyful day. It’s very much a relief to symbolically put the past behind us,” said Malavia A. Baker-Porter of South Central Los Angeles, who took the day off work from her nursing job.

Many throughout the city expressed hope that a black police chief would bring new sensitivity to the concerns of minority neighborhoods.

“I welcome the chief, because he has a proven track record in healing the wounds of the inner city,” said Chilton Alphonse, executive director of the Community Youth Sports and Arts Foundation, which runs a school and home for at-risk youths.

Across town from the inauguration ceremony, Dolores De Arroyo stood outside the Fedco on La Cienega Boulevard, waiting for the store--which was looted and burned during the recent riots--to open.

De Arroyo, a 78-year-old retired seamstress, said she was optimistic that Williams would put a stop to the LAPD’s “abuse” and “bring peace to the people.”

“You know he’s black,” she said. “That might be good.”

Even as Williams was vowing to make the department more responsive to the neighborhoods it serves, Latino residents and shop owners in East Los Angeles said it won’t be easy for him to win the support of their communities, where police brutality is perceived as an enduring problem.

“We’ll be watching him like a hawk--what he says, what he doesn’t say, and how he treats us,” said Jose Castorena, a Boyle Heights attorney. “We don’t expect favored treatment; we just expect to be treated equally and with respect.”

Castorena and others expressed hopes that Williams’ command will improve their personal encounters with police.

Ron Finley was one of those optimists.

“Being a black man, you don’t want to be stopped by the L.A. police. You fear for your life,” said the women’s fashion designer. Finley, who lives just east of Culver City, said he has been stopped numerous times by LAPD officers.

“It’s ‘Get out your car. Step around to the back. Do you have any guns?’ As if all black men carry guns. It makes you feel like your life is worthless,” Finley said.

“This city needs a change. Any change,” he said, adding that he believes Williams’ track record is more important than the color of his skin. “It doesn’t matter if he’s black or white. If he’s the right guy, he’s the right guy.”

For Gene Smith, 53, a Reseda ice cream shop owner, retired LAPD sergeant and Gates supporter, the new guard is not good news.

“I’m from the old guard,” Smith said. “My concern is that, basically, the LAPD has been aggressive in going after criminal elements. But political factors are hindering effective law enforcement. That’s why I’m concerned about the new chief. I’m afraid he’ll make a community relations outfit out of the LAPD, not a law enforcement agency.”

For others, public relations improvements are in order.

“Chief Williams has his work cut out for him,” said Stuart Timmons, a member of the militant gay rights group ACT UP/LA, which staged a protest outside of a downtown state office building because of proposed health care funding cuts.

As Williams was being sworn in, police officers in riot gear arrested eight ACT UP protesters, prompting complaints that they had been roughed up unnecessarily.

“I’m sorry that this had to happen on his first day in office,” Timmons said. “It’s going to take, unfortunately, a lot of work and a lot of sensitivity to bring the LAPD up to snuff with First Amendment rights.”

At the Nickerson Gardens housing project in Watts, home to nearly 5,000 mostly African-American and Latino residents, some tenants said they desired better relations, but believe that the system does not always deliver on its promises for just law enforcement.

When asked his opinion of the new chief as he watched a friend install car stereo speakers, 16-year-old Thomas Anderson looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh--the black man,” said Anderson, dressed in baggy corduroys and sporting braided hair under a red baseball cap.

“It might stop the police from doing some stuff,” he added. “But General Gates--uh, I mean, Chief Gates--wasn’t telling them to go out and beat people, and they still went out and beat people.”

Around the corner, a group of Housing Authority groundskeepers took a break from their morning rounds to ponder the meaning of Williams’ appointment. “If he don’t look out for us, time will tell,” said Marcel Hames, 31. “We’ll know if he’s real or faking.”

Times staff writers Bettina Boxall, Jesse Katz, Josh Meyer, Bob Pool, Louis Sahagun and Jocelyn Stewart contributed to this story.