Hahn in Hot Seat in Old ‘Hood

When I saw the Page One story about Mayor Jim Hahn appointing a small army of wealthy pals to city commissions, I knew exactly where I had to go. To L. Tolliver’s Barber Shop at Florence and Western.

Nowhere in all of Los Angeles did Slim Jim Hahn have more passionate support during his campaign than at L.T.’s clip shop, a mile east of where he grew up. The resident elders argued that Hahn’s daddy had been good to the community, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

But sons do not always grow up to be their fathers, and it sure looks like Jim Hahn has stiffed the very people who helped put him where he is. Of Hahn’s 114 appointments to various commissions so far, the majority are campaign donors with fancy ZIP Codes, as The Times’ Matea Gold neatly documented.

Would you like to know how many are from South L.A., where Hahn had practically passed himself off as another brother from the ‘hood?

Five (5).

It’s true after all. You just can’t trust white people.

“The young cat was right,” said a boastful Kevin Hooks, a young pup of just 30 and a regular L.T. customer. Hooks had been beaten down by the elders last year for suggesting that Hahn ought to be judged on his own merits, not his father’s.

“You don’t just pick up the fruit and eat it when it falls from the tree,” gloated customer Tony Wafford, the only one who had sided with Hooks at the most politically tuned-in barbershop in Los Angeles. “You squeeze the fruit, you smell it. You make sure it’s not rotten.”

“I am appalled by this,” confessed proprietor Lawrence Tolliver, dapper as always, his white beard impeccably manicured. Tolliver and his partner, Mr. Ford, had voted with pride for Jim Hahn, whose father--the late county Supervisor Kenneth Hahn--used to wave to them as he drove by the shop.

“But I think it’s too early to condemn the man,” Tolliver added hopefully. “I still believe I rode the right horse.”

“Me too,” Mr. Ford said from the red-cushioned comfort of his own barber chair. Behind him is a sign that says, Cows may come and cows may go, but the bull in this place goes on forever.

Hahn still has two-thirds of his appointments to fill, so there’s time to prove he’s aware that black people exist even in nonelection years. He told The Times that even his sister, an L.A. city councilwoman, had asked him to get on the stick.

“If he doesn’t step up and support Bernard Parks, that’s going to be another black eye,” Tolliver promised, referring to the L.A. police chief, whose reappointment hangs in the balance.

Wafford agreed, but asked a very smart question. Why doesn’t Hahn quit playing games and take a stand on Parks now? Is it lack of will? General indecision? Long afternoon naps?

“The heat’s on Parks now,” Wafford said of a poll in which 93% of the force expressed no confidence in its leader. “Why would Hahn wait around except to see which way the public might go?”

“Because that’s the way politicians are,” Tolliver retorted.

“I’d try to fend off Parks’ attackers before they got to him, not wait around and check the polls,” Wafford snapped. “I thought you said he had courage like his father.”

“We’re not here to talk about his father,” said a customer. “We’re here to talk about Kenny Hahn.”

He meant Jim, of course, and Wafford delighted in the mistake. Like Tolliver, Wafford’s not ready to write off Jim Hahn over the snub on commission appointments. But he’d warned his buddies last year about the risks of voting for a dead man.

“If the mayor had looked ahead, this wouldn’t have happened,” Wafford said. “If he’d had me there, I would have said, ‘Hey, Jim. Where’s the brothers?’ You wouldn’t have had just these white boys.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Mr. Ford interjected, drawing the silence that is due a man with eight decades’ worth of wisdom. “You don’t want to appoint some fool to one of these commissions just ‘cause he’s a Negro. We need someone who’s got brains.”

“I got a list right here,” said Tolliver, who opened a drawer and produced no fewer than 90 names of community leaders he’s come to know over the years.

“I even got a call from Gov. Davis and gave him three or four names.”

Mr. Ford suggested that with a little more time, Mayor Hahn will surely pay heed to his old neighborhood, the one that trusted him with its votes.

This brought Wafford out of his seat.

“If this was some redneck from the Valley, we’d be blocking his car, standing in the driveway singing ‘We Shall Overcome,’ ” he said.

“I’m just saying we should be as aggressive with our so-called friends as we are with our enemies.

“He didn’t have any trouble finding you when he needed the vote, and now he’s hanging around in Santa Monica. You’ll probably find him over at that place; what’s it called? Yeah, Shutters.”

What the mayor needs, all the gents agreed, is to keep company with fewer pale-faced yes-men and hangers-on, and start seeking the guidance of those who aren’t in it for the money.

“He needs someone who’s beholden to nothing but the truth, and that’s what I’ve got,” said Tolliver, waving his list of 90 good men Hahn overlooked.

With Slim Jim, there may be even less than meets the eye. But I think there might be enough goodwill at L. Tolliver’s Barber Shop to save him.

Haircuts are $10, Jim. It’ll be the smartest money you’ve spent in months.

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Steve Lopez writes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He can be reached at steve.lopez@latimes. com.