Peace and Quiet : Members of Operation Cool Response Find Little Need to Calm Tempers

The old people were a good sign for Andrew Ireland. They were up early in the morning, walking to stores, working in yards, visiting friends, doing whatever comes to mind when you get on in years and assume the privilege of leisure.

“They were out there on the street and that’s what let me know that everything was cool,” said Ireland, 49, one of about 40 men from Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church who rose before dawn Saturday, climbed into cars and vans, and patrolled their South-Central neighborhood to monitor the emotions of residents following the long-awaited verdicts in the Rodney G. King civil rights trial.

They were part of a delegation of about 300 people from 25 churches and community groups involved in Operation Cool Response, an effort by churches in Los Angeles’ African-American neighborhoods to prevent the kind of explosion that caught them by surprise last spring.

They had asked police to give them the first chance at cooling tempers, but as the morning wore on it became increasingly apparent that they would not find it necessary to leave their cars to keep anger at bay.

It was so quiet in fact, that by early afternoon Community Youth Gang Services, also a part of the peacekeeping effort, had sent their workers home to get some sleep before they would resume their duties that night.

“Everything has been fairly peaceful,” said a pleased Paul Jones, the South-Central area manager for CYGS, which has sent gang workers into the community to warn against violence every day for weeks. “Our people need some rest. They’ve been at it 24-7 (24 hours a day, seven days a week) for some time now.”

Even though they did not encounter any real tensions during the day on Saturday, Jones said the program was effective and necessary to set the tone for community response.

‘Black men and brown men are always needed to make sure peace is kept and in making sure our young people see men in this kind of role,” he said.

Jones said the gang intervention agency tried to organize something similar to Operation Cool Response last year just before the verdicts returned at the Simi Valley courthouse sparked deadly rioting, but they were rebuffed by police. This year, the police agreed to allow the church members and gang workers--distinguished by their white baseball caps with the message “100 M +”--to take to the streets on their own to try to defuse tensions.

In church vans and in their own cars, they circled the heart of South-Central Los Angeles, driving past burned-out Taco Bells and empty lots where, a year ago, mini-malls had stood.

In the cool morning drizzle just after radio and television stations began broadcasting the news that two police officers had been found guilty of violating King’s civil rights, the streets--lined with boarded-up apartments and tidy fenced houses--were quiet.

A few people had started working in their yards, and vendors had begun to set up their T-shirt stands and pile bags of oranges on the sidewalk.

Still, turning a corner near Florence and Normandie--one of the flash points of last spring’s riots--a few of the Bethel men noted that many social problems remain; the verdicts have resolved only one of South-Central Los Angeles’ many concerns.

“People out here still don’t have anything and they need something,” Anthony Williams said.

Members of Bethel have taken to calling their church, located just south of Florence Boulevard on Western Avenue, the “gateway to Florence and Normandie.” They defiantly separate themselves from the uptown churches with no connections to the ‘hood.

As a van carrying half a dozen of the group neared Tom’s Liquor store, near which trucker Reginald O. Denny was beaten last year, they were greeted with waves and hellos by people on the streets.

“I’m happy to see it as peaceful as it is,” said Bethel member Augustus Kennedy, 64.

But the men groaned when another passenger, Community Youth Gang Services worker Gerald Brown, told them how he and a carload of fellow workers had been stopped and hassled by sheriff’s deputies earlier in the day as they headed out to urge neighborhood gang members to keep the peace.

“We got jacked up by the police,” said Brown, who was riding with the group in a car marked with the CYGS logo when deputies accused them of going too fast in a school zone. “They had guns drawn, made us get out and asked us what we were doing out here.”

“Doin’ the job that you all should have been doin’ right from the beginning,” responded one of the Bethel churchmen.

“These people will never learn,” sighed another.

They had gotten assurances from Councilman Mark Ridley-Thomas, who represents the district, that the liquor store--which was looted last year--would be closed when the verdicts came down, said Joseph Moss, president of the Bethel men’s group. But by the time they rolled into the parking lot at 10:45 a.m., Tom’s had attracted a horde of reporters and camera crews, and it was doing a brisk business in candy, chips and booze.

Cars from the 77th Division police station ringed the area, as the growing crowd shouted political slogans and passing cars honked horns in celebration. Above it all, several news helicopters circled.

“The police are sitting back, they know we are here and know we are not going to let anything happen,” Moss said.

But on the fringe of the crowd, Vernon Jones, 34, worried that though gang members had agreed to keep the peace, the neighborhood may face more danger from police officers who are unhappy with the verdicts. “Right now, I’m staying on guard,” he said. “My defense is still up. They (the police) may want to retaliate.”

Among the 50 or so residents who were drawn to Tom’s, 11-year-old Dante Clark--lips red from fruit juice and wearing a black stocking cap--described the location as a monument to the past and the future of his community.

“This is where the riots started at, this is where it happened and this is where, now, it’s not happening,” the youngster said.

Across the street, a couple of the Bethel men had run into old friends.

Walter Naper said he was watching television, saw people had gathered at the infamous intersection and decided to bike over from his home, only two blocks away.

“This is the first time I’ve had my bike out in five months,” said the 54-year-old bus driver. “Things have just been too tense.”

Straddling his bicycle, Naper told the Bethel group that prayer was the answer.

“That’s what would solve this problem right now, a hundred church people singing and praying on each corner,” he said. “This city has been needing prayer for a long time, not just since Rodney King--since 1965.”

Back at Bethel, children gathered to participate in an arts program established after last year’s unrest. Moss said there had been no consideration of canceling the classes in the wake of the verdicts.

Eleven-year-old Nkoli Udeorji took a break from her creative writing class to say she was pleased by the verdicts and hoped the community could now look forward.

“Where I live, a lot of people think they should have been convicted the first time,” she said. “This time the guys they wanted got convicted so we can just start building again. It’s a good lesson, though, to tell people they can’t use violence if they want their voices to be heard.”