Popularity Does Not a Police Chief Make

To paraphrase Gilbert and Sullivan, “. . . a police commissioner’s lot is not a happy one.”

In deciding who the next police chief will be, the Police Commission faces an unrewarding task, given the circumstances of Chief Willie L. Williams’ selection five years ago, his relative and continuing popularity in certain communities and the controversies that have erupted over his personal conduct and honesty, and his professional performance in the Police Department.

Yet, the commission should not dwell exclusively on the past. A far more important question is what Williams’ reappointment might mean for the future of the Los Angeles Police Department. Judging by his and the department’s performance during the four and a half years he has run the organization, it is not a bright and promising one.

There is little doubt that Williams’ score in the competitive examination preceding his selection as chief was bumped up to ensure that he, as an outsider, would be in strong contention with five other candidates from inside the Police Department. This alone was enough to discredit him in an organization that has long embraced, and proudly so, a merit system for determining promotion. It also embittered many of the losing candidates, top administrators upon whom Williams has had to depend in managing the department. Subsequent events have only served to deepen their resentment.

The chief’s middle managers, the captains and lieutenants, continue to express dismay at what they see as confusion and indirection at the top of the LAPD command. The top brass, in turn, blames Williams who, they say, has never accepted their advice. Whoever is to blame, the consequence is unmistakable: The department is drifting.

Williams’ appeal among the department’s rank and file is not much better than it is up the chain of command. As petty as it may seem--and is--the chief’s weight problem costs him respect in some quarters. More damning in officers’ eyes is the fact that Williams has never qualified for the basic peace-officer certificate that every rookie must earn to remain employed by a law-enforcement agency in California. Finally, cops on the street complain that their chief offers only tepid support for officers who are, in their view, unfairly attacked for just doing their job. These concerns take on an added energy when Williams is compared with his predecessor. Whatever else you can say about him, Daryl F. Gates kept in good physical shape and devoted much of his time to consolidating his popularity among the “troops.”

Williams’ civilian bosses, police commissioners past and present, often express dissatisfaction with his leadership of the department. They have been particularly critical of the accuracy and completeness of requested information the commission has received from the department. The distrust and bad feelings created by William’s lack of candor in responding to commission questions about his trips to Las Vegas still linger. And last week’s heated exchange between Williams’ lawyers and the Police Commission over the criteria to be used to evaluate the chief’s performance can only further sour the relationship.

With so many within and outside the LAPD unhappy with William’ leadership, it would seem that prospects for significant departmental reform are poor, at best. Add to this the fact that Williams, upon his reappointment, would become an instant lame duck, a chief with few incentives, beyond keeping his job, to be responsive to the wishes of the Police Commission or to implement much-needed reforms in the LAPD.

Nevertheless, Williams’ credibility and appeal in the community has remained high and consistently above those of other city officials. His current campaign to win reappointment deftly exploits this political capital. The chief’s skillful handling of the murders of Enis Cosby and Corie Williams is a case in point. Chief Williams has been extremely cautious in his public remarks concerning the Cosby murder and in keeping expectations about solving it low, no doubt mindful of what publicity can do to a case involving a celebrity. Meanwhile, he has seemingly delivered on his assertion that the LAPD treats all murders equally. Six suspects, including the alleged shooter, have already been arrested in the teenager’s slaying, which occurred the same day as Ennis Cosby’s, and he has maintained a relatively high profile throughout the case, which has attracted national attention and sympathy.

Indeed, Williams’ major achievement has been to reassure the community that he, as chief, is committed to making the LAPD more responsive to and less oppressive of the citizens it polices. But having done that, he has failed to follow through on the internal reforms that will turn his commitment into a reality. For example, the machinery--community substations--to get community-based policing into the streets is in place. But many of the substations are not consistently open for business.

The appointment of a police chief is a political matter. It has always been so. That it is more political now than in the past is patent. The circumstances of Williams’ appointment and the hastily conceived charter changes, rushed to the voters in the aftermath of the Rodney G. King beating to ensure that the city would never again be afflicted with a Gates, have seen to that.

Making a chief of police more responsive to the people by increasing and broadening the political involvement in his or her selection seems attractive on its face. But any LAPD chief’s authority to appoint loyalists to critical posts is limited to three assistant chiefs--and they must come from the top two ranks within the department. Lacking the power to fill other key positions with loyalists or, short of that, sympathizers, any chief faces a serious management problem in running a complex organization like a police department. In such a situation, a chief must count on support given voluntarily, not on what he can command. It is therefore indispensable for a chief to have the capacity to inspire such internal support, either through the force of ideas, personal magnetism or a combination of both.

Chief Williams does not possess this talent today, nor would his reappointment enable him to develop it tomorrow. There are several reasons for this.

Many of the more talented top brass would likely retire from the department. Most have already earned their maximum pension benefit; in another five years, they will also be beyond the optimum age for serious consideration for the department’s top job, or for desirable positions in other organizations. Such an exodus of talent and experience can only exacerbate the problems identified during Williams’ first term.

It is also likely that Williams’ relationship with the Police Commission will remain rocky. The issues of candor and forthrightness that erupted during his first term have resurfaced in the wake of a published report by the commission’s inspector general, who accused the department of providing misleading statistics on citizen complaints against police officers. It should be noted that Williams has cited a decline in citizen complaints as evidence of his successful leadership.

The department’s middle managers, continuing to perceive a lack of consensus or clear direction at the top, will likely do what Civil Service bureaucrats have historically done--management by “mistake avoidance.” This would be a death warrant for programs such as community policing, which require enthusiasm and innovation to succeed.

The officers at the bottom of the heap will put in their hours, take home their pay and remain convinced that they are neither supported nor appreciated.

The unexpected can happen, of course. Williams, upon reappointment to five more years, may well be able to inspire his troops and lead them into the next century while restoring the luster and respect the department previously enjoyed in law-enforcement circles. Then again, the LAPD shouldn’t have to rely on miracles.