Many View Chief as Hurt by Poor Use of Advisors

On a cool evening in March, a small but star-studded collection of past and present Los Angeles leaders gathered at a private home to counsel the city’s embattled chief of police, Willie L. Williams.

One by one, former Mayor Tom Bradley, former Police Commissioner Ann Lane, influential City Councilman Mark Ridley-Thomas and others put forward their suggestions: Take firm hold of the LAPD, call a public meeting at the Police Department auditorium to announce plans for the future, make allegiances with downtown business people, build a base of support beyond City Hall.

Williams dutifully took notes and afterward thanked each of the participants. But some of them say he never followed up on the recommendations, a failing they believe allowed his administration to flounder, buffeted by political agendas inside and outside the Police Department. For some of those who attended that March session and for others who have heard about it, the meeting highlighted a nagging question that many Los Angeles police and politicians have about the chief: Who advises him, and does he listen?

Supporters and critics alike say that as he enters the final year of his five-year term, the chief seems increasingly isolated from the city’s power elite--the mayor, council members and political insiders who regularly travel the byzantine corridors of Los Angeles politics. That perception, coupled with the growing sense that the chief occasionally has acted on bad advice, has fueled speculation about whom Williams consults.

Williams would not agree to be interviewed for this article, but said through a spokesman that he relies on a number of advisors.

“He does not have a kitchen cabinet,” Cmdr. Tim McBride said of the chief. “He has a variety of people from all different professions whose advice he seeks depending on the situation--business, religious, political and people from all walks of life.”

According to sources inside and outside the LAPD, those people include activist Danny Bakewell with the Brotherhood Crusade, Bishop Charles Blake of the West Angeles Church of God in Christ, and Johnny Griggs, an aggressive litigator with the law firm of Sidley and Austin. Jack Greene, a professor of criminal justice from Temple University and longtime associate of Williams, also has provided the chief with guidance, sources said, as has Nels Klyver, a civilian who works for the Police Department and who recently has assumed a significant behind-the-scenes role at the LAPD.

Each of those men is respected and admired in his own field. Blake is a well-liked and well-connected minister. Austin is a top Los Angeles lawyer. Greene is one of the nation’s most respected community policing scholars, and Klyver brings academic and organizational management credentials to his LAPD role.

Still, they share one thing in common: None are Los Angeles political insiders.

By contrast, the list of those whose advice Williams has shrugged off is a striking one. The chief’s relationship with Mayor Richard Riordan has never been strong, and at least during the past year or so, he has not turned to his Police Commission bosses for guidance, either. Former Commission President Jesse A. Brewer helped hire Williams and offered him counsel, but before Brewer died in late 1995 he expressed disappointment that Williams had not heeded more of his advice.

Williams’ lack of a strong City Council advisor also has contributed to his fraying relations with that body, whose members approve LAPD expenditures, help set department priorities and have the power to review the Police Commission’s decision on whether the chief deserves a second term. Despite that body’s power, however, Williams has not sought the advice of its most important players. In fact, the list of those whose guidance Williams has chosen not to seek are important insiders whose knowledge could have guided the Philadelphia native through the unfamiliar waters of Los Angeles politics.

Among them:

* Councilwoman Laura Chick, whose committee oversees police issues: “I’m not somebody that he seeks out to discuss things with.”

* City Council President John Ferraro, who presides over the council that could consider Williams’ contract renewal: “He’s never called me.”

* Councilman Nate Holden, Williams’ biggest supporter on the council: “He doesn’t ask for my advice.”

* Tom Reddin, a former LAPD chief who inherited a Police Department that after a devastating riot was faced with repairing its public image and its community relations, problems nearly identical to those that confronted Williams: “I thought he might run into some dead-ends and that he might call. He never did.”

* Edward M. Davis, another former LAPD chief and an important figure in the development of community-based policing: “I told one of the chief’s assistants that I’d be happy to help the chief understand community-based policing. I told him: ‘I’ll go down there. He can come up here, whatever he likes.’ I never heard back.”

The Chief’s Team

Within the department, Williams heavily relies on his three assistant chiefs--Ronald Banks, Bayan Lewis and Frank Piersol--a trio of veteran LAPD officers with a breadth of backgrounds and talents.

Lewis, who is generally well-liked by rank-and-file officers and police union leaders, brought long field experience to the post of assistant chief, and he now heads LAPD operations, commanding more than 80% of its employees.

The affable Piersol skipped a rank when Williams plucked him from the Police Commission staff and made him one of the LAPD’s highest-ranking officers; he now oversees administrative services, including areas such as the department’s expansion and training efforts.

And Banks brought deep administrative experience to his job. First as a deputy chief and now as Williams’ top aide, Banks--who has a law degree and a keen sense of the LAPD bureaucracy but little background as a field commander--oversees police discipline and other delicate areas. Cool, polite and articulate, he is seen as the chief’s most trusted confidante inside the organization.

At the same time, critics say all three men, particularly Banks, lack strong ties to the command staff and the rest of the department--a shortcoming that limits their effectiveness as advisors.

Some senior officers complain, for instance, about what they call “Banks-O-Grams,” written missives from the assistant chief upbraiding them for their votes on disciplinary boards. The notes, several senior officials said, undermine the integrity of the fact-finding boards of rights and create an environment of mistrust among LAPD leaders.

“It tends to establish a chilling effect on these command officers when they know that their votes could affect their prospects for promotion,” said Barry Levin, a lawyer and former cop who represents the Command Officers’ Assn. and who said he likes and admires Banks. Under fire recently for those missives, Banks has agreed at least temporarily to suspend them, sources said.

In addition, say senior LAPD officials, Banks’ usefulness as an advisor to Williams is hampered by his decision last year to resign from the Command Officers’ Assn., the group that represents senior LAPD managers.

At the time, Williams was under fire for his acceptance of comped rooms in Las Vegas and his alleged lies to the Police Commission about those freebies. Banks wanted the association to go to bat for his embattled boss. It did not. Banks quit in protest.

Further complicating the effectiveness of Williams’ top tier is an abiding sense inside the department that all three assistant chiefs, who have more than 30 years apiece with the LAPD, are preparing to leave. Lewis has made clear his intention to retire, Banks applied for the chief’s job in Pasadena, and Piersol said he has contemplated retirement.

“I can see how from outside or even from below it might seem like people are bailing out,” said Piersol, “but I really don’t think that’s the case.”

Sources say Klyver, meanwhile, has become increasingly influential, to the point that he is the only civilian--in fact, the only other person--who joins the assistant chiefs for their weekly meetings with Williams.

All but unknown outside the department, Klyver is in charge of organizational development for the LAPD. His broad mandate has injected him into matters as far-ranging as strategic planning, attrition and officer discipline, and his growing influence has made him both resented and feared at the highest levels of the department. To his face, top brass call him “Dr. Klyver”; behind his back, some derisively refer to him as “Chief Klyver.”

Outside Advisors

Beyond the department, the members of Williams’ inner circle are harder to discern.

After first refusing to discuss his advisors, Williams, through a spokesman, then offered some details. He said he has had conversations with Bakewell, a well-known but controversial community activist, but does not consider him a close advisor. And he stressed that while he once consulted with controversial attorney and former police commissioner Melanie Lomax, she “is no longer one of his advisors.”

He would not comment on the roles played by Griggs, his lawyer, or Blake, a prominent minister whose church Williams attends.

“I’ve had the opportunity of talking to him from time to time as a pastor, as a friend and as a community leader,” said Blake, whose congregation numbers 15,000 and is growing.

Griggs will not comment on his relationship with the chief, but some of the lawyer’s work is evident. On Williams’ behalf, he fired off letters to news organizations that carried stories about a police corruption investigation in Philadelphia, and he has taken an aggressive position with respect to the Police Commission, demanding records and other materials related to the chief.

As for Greene, he played an important role during Williams’ transition to Los Angeles, helping shape relations between the chief and his command staff, advising Williams on plans to reinvigorate the LAPD’s patrol force and offering suggestions on building better community relations.

Greene, a respected policing academic, acknowledged that some of those projects have proved to be struggles, but he said progress under Williams has been remarkable: New police stations are being built, the department is growing, new equipment is being purchased for street cops, the budget is growing by leaps and bounds.

“If you apply the old Ronald Reagan test--’Are you better off today than you were last year?’--the answer is pretty obvious,” Greene said. “My sense is that the department enjoys a far better reputation than it did.”

Decisions Questioned

Many council members, Riordan aides and top LAPD officials say a stronger, more connected group of advisors might have steered Williams clear of repeated missteps, particularly with respect to his relations with the City Council.

That body bailed Williams out of a reprimand for allegedly lying to the Police Commission, but relations have soured since then, and it is the council that Williams would have to turn to if he asks for a contract renewal and the commission denies him.

And yet, despite the council’s importance for Williams’ future and for the LAPD’s budget and oversight, the chief repeatedly has fumbled issues relating to the city’s governing body. A better group of advisors, observers say, might have helped Williams avoid some of those mistakes.

First was his demotion of then-Assistant Chief Bernard C. Parks. Williams dawdled with that decision for months, first denying that he had problems with his top deputy, then abruptly ousting him on Sept. 12, 1994. Parks, however, has long ties to influential City Council members, some of the same people who once offered Williams advice but were rebuffed. Confronted with a face-off between Williams and Parks, they backed Parks.

The assistant chief ended up with a demotion--and a raise.

“He was warned that demoting . . . Parks might cost him some council support,” said one person familiar with that episode. “But I don’t think he understood exactly how much it would hurt because he doesn’t have good, close ties to the council.”

Then there was Williams’ decision to file a $10-million claim against the city for what he considered the improper release of personnel documents. He eventually withdrew that claim after being promised that the city attorney would investigate and try to determine the source of the leak.

As most predicted, that investigation came up empty, leaving Williams with little to show for his $10-million claim.

Most recently, there has been what many view as the most curious move of all. After news reports disclosed that the Police Commission had upbraided Williams for choosing a more expensive car than the official vehicles given to his immediate subordinates, Williams fired off a note to the city’s Department of General Services.

Citing the federal Freedom of Information Act, Williams requested “the year, type and cost of vehicles currently assigned to each council member and city general manager.”

Williams, who recently redecorated his Parker Center office, also asked for information detailing “the cost of any office renovations, by year for the last five years . . . for each council member, mayor, general manager and other city officials.”

News of the letter did not exactly impress council members.

“What in God’s name,” one member exclaimed at the time, “does that man think he’s doing?”

Williams has declined to comment on the matter. Senior LAPD officials claim ignorance and say they too are stumped as to why the chief would so deliberately provoke other city officials with such a request.

For Williams, the coming months will be among the most important and difficult of his long policing career. Simultaneously hailed as a reassuring leader who restored public confidence in the LAPD and disparaged as a mediocre manager who has allowed the Police Department to drift, Williams has until year’s end to persuade political leaders that he deserves a second five-year term.

That would be a delicate undertaking for any police chief, but former police chiefs and political leaders say it could be especially challenging for one who seems so far removed from City Hall. Even during pitched battles, Daryl F. Gates was renowned for consistently being able to trump the Police Commission by calling on the City Council. Other former chiefs agreed that savvy advice and good political skills are indispensable, especially in difficult times.

“I was constantly seeking advice,” said Davis, whose wily political skills made him one of the LAPD’s most influential chiefs. “You have to listen to know what’s going on. . . . I would say that was absolutely vital.”

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

The Chief’s Top Advisors

Police Chief Willie L. Williams restructured the top ranks of the LAPD in 1994, leaving three top assistants who together oversee all areas of the Police Department. The three, who all hold the rank of assistant chief, meet weekly with Williams and consult informally with him more than any other members of the force.

* Chief of Staff Ronald Banks, 56

Job: Williams’ top assistant; acts as chief in Williams’ absence, handles delicate areas such as discipline.

LAPD service: 30 years

* Frank Piersol, 51

Job: Oversees the Office of Administrative Services, which includes areas such as technology and department expansion.

LAPD service: 30 years

* Bayan Lewis, 54

Job: Oversees Office of Operations, which includes more than 80% of all Police Department employees.

LAPD service: 33 years