On the Beat : In the riots’ wake, attention is focused on police foot patrols. They are visible, daily reminders of LAPD’s ties to the community.

Making their way through throngs of shoppers along Broadway, LAPD Officers Ray Yzguerra and Guadalupe (Shep) Ruvalcaba are bombarded by the amplified voices of barkers urging customers to “Pasale, pasale adentro.”

Farther down the street, the bass throb of a reggae song clashes at earsplitting volume with the melancholy words of a corrido as two electronics stores engage in an impromptu battle of the bands.

In this carnival-like melange of cultures, the officers are one of the threads that bind everyone here together. Merchants and customers of all ethnic backgrounds look happy to see them. As Yzguerra and Ruvalcaba walk by a small shop, the Korean owner, who has been bargaining in Spanish with a customer, waves and greets them in broken English.

“Everybody talks to you,” says Yzguerra, who has walked a foot patrol in this area for more than 10 years.

Only a few months ago, the contrast in their reception couldn’t have been greater.

“After Rodney King was beaten, people would call you names on the street,” says Yzguerra, whose gentle manner and friendliness seem out of sync with the popular image of the LAPD. “Everything--the papers, TV--was so negative. It really hurt. I just wanted to get off the street.”

In the wake of April’s riots and of calls by Police Chief Willie Williams for a shift to community-based policing, the highly visible foot patrols are receiving increased attention as a successful example of how police and residents can work together to solve a community’s problems. Yet in the downtown area, foot patrols are nothing new--LAPD officers have been walking these streets for almost 100 years.

Although foot patrol officers aren’t often involved in the spectacular car chases that moviegoers love so much, they get plenty of action. It’s just not the sort that catches the interest of Hollywood. Today, however, it’s unusually quiet, and Yzguerra and Ruvalcaba have time to relax as they make their rounds.

Spotting a little girl staring intently at him, Yzguerra smiles and, reaching into his shirt pocket, hands her three baseball cards. Her grandmother looks on disapprovingly, but the girl beams.

Suddenly, a small boy appears and asks, with a broad grin, “Can I please have a card, please ?”

“I don’t know,” replies Yzguerra mock-seriously. “I think this is my last card.”

For a moment, disappointment clouds the boy’s face, but as Yzguerra pulls the card from his pocket, the grin immediately reappears. “Thank you,” the boy chirps as he scampers back into the crowd, his new treasure held tightly in both hands.

“I get a warm feeling when I talk with the kids on my beat,” Yzguerra says as he watches the boy disappear. “We deal with so many negative things--drugs, robberies, murders. The kids bring me back to reality and remind me that not everything is bad.”

But when things do get bad, foot patrol officers depend heavily on cooperation from merchants and other members of the community for help.

“I see myself not only as a protector, but as a conduit to provide government services to the people and (to ensure) people’s cooperation with government,” says Officer Bryce Spafford, a foot patrolman on nearby Spring Street.

The officers’ daily presence in the community has been a significant factor in augmenting law-enforcement cooperation from business owners and residents, says Cheryl Wilson, who as administrative director of the Spring Street Assn. often works closely with Spafford.

“Los Angeles is probably the most under-policed city on Earth,” Wilson says, “but the foot patrols help to establish a rapport that make the officers part of the community.”

For Gilbert Nunez of Arcadia, whose Gil’s hamburger stand on Hill Street is a popular lunch spot for those who walk the downtown foot patrols, the officers are much more than customers--they’re friends as well.

While eating lunch, Yzguerra and Ruvalcaba argue amiably with Nunez about the advantages of various grass seeds.

“I’ve been to his house and seen his grass,” Yzguerra tells Ruvalcaba. “If I were you, I’d take his advice. He used to be a professional landscaper.”

“These guys are great,” Nunez says as he pats the officers on the shoulder. “And it’s good to have them around, even if some people don’t appreciate it. I know I sure do.”

But to at least one jewelry store owner in the area, police are still not providing enough services to business people.

“We’ve not had what we need,” says the merchant, who asked not to be identified. “Because some of the stores have private security, the police think that jewelry stores don’t need their protection as much. During the riots, there were looters all around here, and there was not even one police officer on the street.

“It’s not all their fault,” he adds. “A lot of jewelers have a negative impression of the LAPD and are scared of them. I would like to see that change.”

“Part of our problem is that officers don’t interact well with the public,” Yzguerra says. “We need officers who are more socially adept and culturally aware. For example, there are a lot of Latino business people around here who don’t speak English. They often have lots of questions, but officers who can’t speak Spanish don’t often have the patience to listen to them.”

The two officers soon find their own patience tested when an unshaven man in dirty clothing asks for help.

“I want to go in there and buy a TV,” the man says, pointing at Woolworth’s, “but they didn’t tell me anything, just said I can’t come in.”

“Did you do anything?” Ruvalcaba asks.

“No, I just wanted to buy a television. Look, I got the money,” he says, pulling a wad of crisp $20 bills from his pocket.

As Yzguerra disappears into the store, Ruvalcaba asks incredulously, “After the way they treated you, why would you want to buy a TV here?” When Yzguerra returns, he explains that the guards think the man is a shoplifter. “I just want to buy a TV,” the man says.

Finally, the guards agree to let the man in--but only if Yzguerra and Ruvalcaba accompany him.

With his police escort, the man finds his coveted television--only to discover that he doesn’t have enough money to buy it. As they part ways outside the store, Yzguerra suggests that he look elsewhere.

“We had to do something,” Yzguerra muses as the man shambles off. “If we didn’t, there probably would have been an argument, and somebody might have gotten injured.”

As Yzguerra and Ruvalcaba melt back into the quick-moving stream of pedestrians, Yzguerra turns and looks back for a moment.

“Tell them about all this,” he says with a smile as he and Ruvalcaba head back toward Broadway. “Let them know what really goes on out here. You get to know these people, and after awhile you’re not just a police officer. You owe them something more.”