THE LAPD : Is Williams’ Mission an Impossible One?

As the whole world watches the O.J. Simpson double-murder trial, the equally dramatic saga of Police Chief Willie L. Williams--the black man on the white horse who came to lead us all into the Promised Land of community policing and racial harmony--plays itself out as a sideshow. But it should be center stage. For Williams now finds himself buffeted by long-simmering rumors of incompetence while attempting the momentous transformation of a Police Department openly hostile to change.

Williams came into office in 1992, in the wake of the gravest crisis in the history of the Los Angeles Police Department. The brutal assault on Rodney G. King had shattered the LAPD’s Hollywood-inspired, near-mythical reputation as America’s Cops. The Christopher Commission had found the department guilty of exactly the sins it had been accused of for decades. Then came the worst American insurrection in the 20th Century, and the Webster Commission pinned the blame for the department’s stunning lack of response on Chief Daryl F. Gates and the LAPD’s command structure. Gates subsequently resigned, and LAPD morale plummeted.

Williams thus faced a new political reality when he became the city’s first black chief. The public had just approved Charter Amendment F, which, for the first time in almost half a century, made the chief truly accountable to the civilian authority of the Police Commission, and limited him to a five-year, onetime renewable term with no tenure.

Williams did have the advantage of coming from the Philadelphia Police Department, which was similarly plagued by brutality, racism and unaccountability. But when he arrived in Los Angeles, many within the LAPD did not greet him with open arms. He was not just black and an outsider; he was an East Coast outsider, synonymous, in many cops’ minds, with the dirty, on-the-take corruption of the LAPD’s past, and he affirmed what was anathema to many in the LAPD-- community policing, affirmative action and civilian control.

Still, Williams diligently worked to restore the public’s confidence in the department, meeting with community groups throughout the city. By 1994, a Los Angeles Times Poll showed that more than two-thirds of the city’s residents approved of the LAPD’s performance, a dramatic turnaround. Although police-brutality complaints continued, city payments to settle excessive-force suits were down. Changes in the department’s disciplinary system were implemented, civilian police advisory boards were established throughout the city and every officer was trained in riot control.

But the challenges facing Williams were herculean. He had to set in motion a complete transformation of the department’s philosophy of policing, training, use of force and disciplinary procedures while implementing the elusive concept of “community policing.” Simultaneously, Mayor Richard Riordan handed Williams a new mission: to expand the department by one-quarter, to 10,000 officers, and to do so within five years.

Now, after two and one half years in office, much of this remains undone and whispers about whether Williams is up to the job are growing louder. They recently came to a head when a letter highly critical of the chief’s performance, written by former Deputy Chief Stephen Downing, was sent to the Police Commission. In the letter, Downing claimed that Williams and his wife were misusing city cars and phones and soliciting free rooms and service while gambling in Las Vegas.

None of the charges were substantiated, but complaints about Williams’ performance were not just coming from his enemies. Members of the Police Commission, City Council and his own command staff were also critical. The complaints boiled down to a growing conviction that Williams lacks the administrative skills to implement the Christopher Commission reforms, as well as the leadership abilities to revive morale and inspire his rank and file.

Police Commission President Enrique Hernandez summed it up: “I believe . . . that there is a vacuum of clearly understood strategic direction for the department. Until there is a clear direction, I think there will continue to be a morale problem.”

Even critics outside the department who would seem to be Williams’ natural allies have also been critical of the pace of reform. “Glacial,” judged Joe Hicks of the L.A. chapter of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference.

Meanwhile, the cop on the beat is angry at Williams’ failure to stand up for the troops, even when it’s easy to do so. When Officer Charles Heim was killed in Hollywood last October, Williams did not return from a trip to Las Vegas until days later, a delay that fostered tremendous bitterness among troops. And Williams’ response to the Simpson defense team’s putting the LAPD on trial has been tepid, at best.

The LAPD has been having real difficulty retaining officers. Although this problem precedes Williams, his inability to quickly restore the department’s luster has been a factor in the attrition. And because station houses are falling down and equipment is old and decrepit, Williams has become a convenient scapegoat for that, too.

Clearly, too many Christopher Commission reforms remain to be implemented. They include changes in training, discipline, the investigation of citizen complaints, flexibility for division captains to deal with local community affairs and the rotation of officers to ensure diversity, experience and equal opportunities for promotion.

But Williams must carry out these reforms employing an entrenched, sometimes subversive command staff protected by Civil Service, and a rank and file deeply resistant to change. He must serve a mayor whose support is, at best, lukewarm, and whose overriding concern is fulfilling his campaign pledge to expand the department at a time when money is extraordinarily scarce.

Clearly, Chief Williams has his faults. And he may well need some crash courses in management and leadership. Certainly, it would have been a miracle if Williams had fulfilled all our expectations: A Colin L. Powell with a doctor of divinity and a Harvard MBA.

Instead, he’s just a cop trying to undo a maze of problems cast in concrete and more than 40 years in the making. The long knives of Williams’ enemies have been out since the day he took office. The problem now are the stilettoes carried by those who say they support reform and claim to wish him well. They need to realize what the lovers of the status quo within the LAPD do: If Williams fails, so does the window of opportunity for serious reform. And that serious reform requires serious money. They should all understand that, and stop whispering behind his back.

For his part, Williams must realize what he’s up against, marshal supporters of reform on the Police Commission, the City Council, among younger progressives within the department and in the general public. Meanwhile, everybody should remember the old saying among the old salts in the LAPD. “Don’t worry,” they’d say whenever the pressure for change would heat up, “the pendulum will swing back.”