Putting the Rapid Back in Rapid Transit

Maybe, as Times columnist Steve Lopez suggested in print a few months back, Derick Mahome really should run the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. One thing’s for sure, he’d be certain to put in a little extra for the agency’s bus riders.

Just look at him now, bolting over a crosswalk on Wilshire Boulevard in the middle of morning rush hour, legs pounding pavement in full sprint, sweat pouring down his brow.

“Hey man, stop!” he shouts. “Hey, hey, wait, you’ve got a rider! You’ve got a rider!”

An MTA bus supervisor, Mahome is imploring one of his drivers not to pull out, so a woman can make her connection.

The bus waits. The woman gets on. Mission accomplished, Mahome walks back to the corner at Wilshire and Western Avenue, the spot where every weekday morning he stands watch from 5:45 to 9.

It is from this swatch of sidewalk that Mahome, 38, fills a key front-line role for the nation’s second largest transit agency. He is responsible for the busiest corner on the busiest route of what is arguably the MTA’s most successful traffic-busting innovation in recent memory: Metro Rapid, a fleet of more than 100 buses that use technology to approximate the speeds of a railway.

Officials at the MTA acknowledge that high-tech gadgetry can go only so far.

“Derick Mahome makes this system work,” says Rex Gephart, who oversees the program, more commonly known as Rapid Bus.

Instead of trying to manage the route from headquarters, as is done with other MTA routes, Rapid Bus puts at least one supervisor on the streets during each peak hour.

On Wilshire in the morning, it’s Mahome. “The eyes and ears of this thing,” says Gephart.

A sturdy, roundish man with buzz-saw energy and a 200-watt smile, Mahome tries to make sure not only that the morning parade of buses runs smoothly but that riders get the kind of white-glove treatment more typically associated with a valet service.

“Sometimes,” says Mahome, dressed head-to-toe in the MTA’s navy blue polyester supervisor’s suit, “it feels like I’m a glorified baby-sitter.”

One minute he’s getting drivers to wait for passengers from the nearby Red Line subway stop. Then he’s jammed partway under a bus, pants nearly splitting as he peeks through a front wheel well to check a bad suspension. Then he’s peering into a bus engine, fixing a frozen fuel cylinder by propping open a hatch to let air flow in.

He does all this in the company of riders. Hordes of them, particularly in the middle of rush hour, when you can often find Mahome standing in the midst of 60 to 70 people, each waiting for a Rapid Bus that actually has a seat. They pepper him with questions.

“How do I get to bus No. 2?”

“What’s the fare?”

“Where do I connect to go to the Valley?”

Befitting a man who has spent 15 years in the MTA, part of that time as a driver, Mahome seemingly knows every line and every connection in the city. “I’ll take all the questions from riders as I can,” he says. “But one thing, I don’t like people asking questions for more than 21/2 minutes. If they are there that long, that means they’ve been waiting too long ... and the Rapid Bus isn’t doing the job it was meant to when it was drawn up.”

The MTA launched Rapid Bus in 2000 with two routes, installing Mahome as one of a small cadre of street-level supervisors.

The system, modeled on one in Brazil and new to this country, has one line that runs 13 miles down Ventura Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley. The other line is Mahome’s route, slicing 26 miles down Wilshire Boulevard, from deep in East Los Angeles to Santa Monica.

The buses, which make fewer stops than most, have several features that make them faster--including electronic gear that makes traffic signals hold green lights longer. The MTA has also unleashed its drivers, letting them roll without a schedule. Rapid Bus drivers are told to cover their routes as quickly as possible without breaking the law.

The result? Faster service: Rapid Buses complete their routes up to 30% faster than normal buses. And more riders: The buses are so popular--jammed, actually--that overall ridership along Wilshire is up 40% in two years. And little criticism--a rarity for the MTA, which usually takes more hits than a crash test dummy.

The street-level supervisors are key to the success of Rapid Bus, MTA officials say, because they provide a human touch.

Mahome usually positions himself under a Metro Rapid canopy, intent on keeping the buses from driving in clusters.

“Seems like the guy does whatever it takes to serve us,” says Ed Bishop, a photographer on his way to work in Westwood one recent day. Bishop recalled the time he left a bag on a bus and reached Mahome soon afterward. Sure enough, the bag was found.

Mahome is an obviously effective supervisor because he’s always moving, always talking, always fixing. Times columnist Steve Lopez took note of that in a January article that blasted the MTA for being out of touch with bus riders.

Lopez spent a morning at Wilshire and Western, to see how crowded the buses are, and came away impressed with the man supervising the fleet. “There’s a terrific bus-traffic supervisor at Wilshire and Western who should be running the entire agency,” he wrote.

“Man, that Lopez got me in trouble,” says Mahome, laughing. After the column it seemed like everyone in the agency, and a ton of his riders, gave Mahome a good ribbing.

Mahome assures the agency’s recently hired chief executive, Roger Snoble, that no, he does not want “the big boss’ job.” Not a chance. Too much pressure. Though he wouldn’t mind the $295,000-a-year paycheck or the hefty housing allowance.

“On the serious side, I do really care about this,” says Mahome, wiping his brow as he scans Wilshire.

“My wife says maybe she should buy some red lingerie and put ‘Rapid Bus’ on it. That way, I’d give her more attention.... I live for trying to make this thing work.”