Out-of-Work, Out-of-Favor Pol Seeks Job

I thought I recognized the hunched and disheveled figure near the freeway onramp, holding a sign reading, “Please, All I Need Is a Chance.”

“Good lettering,” I said to the man, trying to make him feel good but also steal a better look at his face. I gave him 50 cents and he nodded, head bent downward.

I took a closer look and darned if it wasn’t Mike Capizzi, although he hardly looked himself in rumpled sweat pants, grimy T-shirt and week-old growth of beard. He was sporting a stocking cap with an “I Like Mike” button stuck in it. A squirrel perched on his shoulder, eating raisins from a box.

Was it really that long ago I’d seen him on TV, wearing a suit and tie and talking optimistically about the future?

But the man on TV had looked eager and refreshed. This man by the freeway had a resigned, hunted look in his eyes.

No wonder. It was hard to imagine a pol having a worse year than Mike Capizzi had in 1998.

He’d been district attorney since 1990--and one of the most powerful people in Orange County--but gave it up to run for state attorney general. Hoping to exploit his reputation as a corruption buster, he instead was trounced in the GOP primary in June.

It got worse. At the party’s election-night gathering in June, held in his own county, the mention of his name brought boos. Having given up one job and losing a race for another, he then threw his name in the hat for a local judgeship. Despite 34 years in the D.A.’s office, he was passed over.

“Yo, Mike,” I said. “What are you doing out here?”

“Um, uh, just getting a little air,” he said. “Counting cars. I spent a few days over at the Civic Center, but it was too painful. Too many memories.”

He took off his stocking cap and some dried twigs fell out.

It was no secret that Orange County and state Republican power brokers ostracized Capizzi, working against him in the attorney general’s race and later in his bid for the judgeship. No vengeful criminal ever was tougher on a D.A. than his own party leaders were on Capizzi.

Their contention was that he’d been too zealous in prosecuting local officials for misdeeds. They never forgave him, especially, for going after Assemblyman Scott Baugh on campaign violations.

“It’s weird,” Capizzi said. “I just saw Baugh the other day. He drove by and tossed a quarter at me. Hit me right in the neck. Then he laughed.”

“I guess he still has hard feelings, huh?” I said.

“Guess so,” Capizzi said. “We’ll see who gets the last laugh.”

I was tempted to point out that he was panhandling beside a freeway, but that would have been too cruel. I had always liked Capizzi’s decision to go after Baugh, even though the case dragged on for years and nobody even remembers what Baugh supposedly did.

“I thought you were going to practice law,” I said.

“I was,” he said, “but clients kept calling and then not showing up. I think someone’s pulling a fast one on me.”

“Have you worked at all?”

“I put in a couple shifts at a car wash, but that’s a young man’s game. Not much use for an old prosecutor like me.”

“Do you have any prospects at all?”

“I have an audition tomorrow.”

“An audition?”

“Yeah, it’s for one of those TV judges. Like Judge Wapner. I figured, what the hell. I know the law. And now, I’ve got some empathy for the little guy.”

“Good luck,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I think you were right a lot of the time.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Maybe I should have just stayed put in the D.A.’s office. Life just isn’t the same on the outside.”

About 50 feet away, a furtive figure was pushing a shopping cart through the brush. “Is that guy stealing your cart?” I asked.

“Oh, him?” Capizzi said. “Not to worry. That’s Brad Gates.”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com