Turmoil in Police Union Jeopardizes Clout : City Hall: Shifts in membership throw leadership into upheaval that could weaken the league’s power. The changes have implications for Riordan as well.

The union that represents Los Angeles police officers is caught in a generational change that has left its leadership in turmoil and its political influence in doubt, according to City Hall observers and current and former members of the league board.

League leaders compare the mood of their electorate--about 7,500 Los Angeles police officers up to the rank of lieutenant--to that of the nation as a whole: surly, dissatisfied and eager for change. Compounding that, they say, is a generational and demographic shift at the Police Department.

Younger officers, many of them women and minorities, are filling the ranks, and they tend to bring a different view than do their seniors to the union’s role--seeing it more as an instrument to express their grievances than as a tool to woo the city’s power structure. The league’s pale complexion--no women or blacks have ever served on the board--also has made it more difficult for union leaders to claim to fully represent the rank and file of the LAPD.

In the past year, seven of the nine directors of the Los Angeles Police Protective League have been replaced, and at least one of the two surviving directors privately has told associates he may not seek reelection when his term expires. Results of the latest league elections were released last week and showed two incumbents--Ron Aguilar, who runs the league’s popular newspaper, and Fred Tredy, the board’s senior member--going down to defeat.

In addition, one board president was ousted last year, and his successor is preparing to step down after a bruising year. The battle to succeed him promises to be another divisive one for the league, as it pits two board members against one another.

“It’s taken a toll on me, physically and mentally,” outgoing league President Danny L. Staggs said this week.

As the league struggles through its most profound transformation since the late 1970s, some political observers are watching with interest and concern. The union has wielded powerful influence in some recent city elections, but its changing leadership may take it in new and difficult-to-predict directions.

In 1993, the protective league backed businessman Richard Riordan for mayor over City Councilman Michael Woo. Its endorsement helped Riordan downplay revelations of his past arrest record that surfaced during the campaign’s closing weeks. Once elected, Riordan appointed then-league President William C. Violante as his deputy mayor for public safety.

But the league’s new leadership is souring on the mayor and has threatened to withhold its endorsement in 1997 if, as expected, Riordan backs the candidacy of Barbara Yaroslavsky for a City Council seat. League leaders have feuded for years with Councilman Zev Yaroslavsky and say they believe that his wife would continue his approach to police issues.

Riordan has indicated that he intends to back Barbara Yaroslavsky’s candidacy, but the union’s threat to withdraw its support complicates the mayor’s political calculus considerably. The centerpiece of Riordan’s 1993 campaign and of his Administration has been his pledge to expand and improve the LAPD. Police opposition to his reelection would cloud his ability to claim credit for Police Department improvements.

But that’s just what union leaders say to expect if Riordan supports Yaroslavsky--the membership, they say, would insist on it.

“If Mayor Riordan endorses Barbara Yaroslavsky, I believe we’ll see a tremendous backlash from the rank and file,” Staggs said. “I think police officers will see that as a sellout, and it might cause us not to endorse Riordan. . . .”

That threat rankles some at City Hall, where the league’s bluster has sometimes cost it allies. During the recent contract talks, City Hall sources say, the union sent conflicting signals as it battled to cut a deal and still hold onto its increasingly restive membership.

Although league leaders ultimately won grudging approval for a contract, the first proposal that they negotiated with the city was roundly rejected by an angry rank and file, signaling to City Council leaders that the union board could not be counted on to sell a deal to its own membership. The league also bounced between tactics: First the union erected a controversial billboard warning that Los Angeles was an unsafe place to live; then, under fire, league leaders quickly removed the billboards.

The divisive debate, meanwhile, saw the union virulently denounce the same city leaders with whom they were negotiating, a tactic that strained the talks.

“They sent out conflicting signals,” one City Council source said. “They say they want to work with the council, but then they bash the council. They say they have a deal, but then they can’t deliver their membership. That weakened their influence.”

So has the rapid turnover in the past year, observers say.

“If we keep changing directors all the time, we can’t be effective,” said Dennis Zine, who was elected to the board this year. “The people over in City Hall say: ‘We don’t need to pay attention to them. They’ll be gone tomorrow.’ ”

Behind much of the turbulence at the union is the changing face of the LAPD, as younger, more educated officers are hired and older officers, many of whom came from military backgrounds, retire or leave. Department observers say many younger officers bring a different approach to the job and demand a different role for their union.

Less inclined to accept the old guard’s deference to authority, many of the younger officers often have been more willing to challenge department and city leadership. Last summer, the league was barred by court order from organizing a series of mass sick days known as the “blue flu.”

But nonleague leaders went ahead anyway, secretly organizing the event and distributing news about it through anonymous posters and faxes. More than half the LAPD ranks called in sick on the shifts that the renegade group asked them boycott.

The league has attempted to reach out to younger members. Many attribute its tough rhetoric during the contract talks to the union’s recognition that it was losing touch with more militant elements in the ranks.

But the gender and ethnic composition of the league board often has stifled its claims to represent the breadth of the new LAPD. Most striking is that no black officer has ever held a seat on the league board despite the LAPD’s increasing ethnic diversity.

That absence left the league vulnerable to criticism earlier this year when it launched a campaign against then-Assistant Chief Bernard Parks, who is black. Parks suggested that the predominantly white league board was failing to speak for its black constituents, an argument echoed by the president of the largest African American officers association.

The frictions that are increasingly dividing the league leadership are in many ways symbolized by the struggle shaping up over the soon-to-be vacant presidency. Staggs represents the old school: A fixture at City Hall, he is practiced in the art of politics, and he won the league presidency based largely on his promise to work the corridors of power to secure officers a new contract.

But Staggs is seen as an insider by many officers, and the younger breed of LAPD cop seems to favor a different approach. Their more combative style is reflected in one of those clamoring to succeed Staggs, Officer Bill Harkness. His nickname, “In-Your-Face Harkness,” speaks volumes about his approach.

“Talking with Harkness is like being in an interview with a vampire,” one acquaintance said.

In his effort to become league president, Harkness has divided the union board. Eager to avoid the public spectacle of another contentious election, many directors wanted to choose their new president from within the board.

But Harkness insisted on letting the entire rank and file cast ballots, irritating some others on the board.

“I think I made some people angry today,” Harkness said Thursday after the league’s board meeting. “I’m very set in my ways about sending this to the members for a vote.”

Harkness will run against fellow board member Cliff Ruff, a longtime, conservative league director. An effort by yet another faction of the board to push the compromise candidacy of Gary Fullerton, a soft-spoken and well-liked officer elected to the board earlier this year, fell short when Harkness refused to back down.

That threw the issue back to the membership at large.

Staggs and other at the league say the succession battle already has been grueling and has badly split the fractured league board. And it has barely begun. Ballots go out next week, and the results won’t be known until December.

But for Staggs, at least, the end is in sight.

“All these directors are coming to me and saying: ‘Help us,’ ” Staggs said. “I say: ‘They created this problem. Let them deal with it.’ ”