In San Diego, elite shun spotlight

The Catholic bishop of San Diego is set to testify today in the diocese’s bankruptcy case in federal court. It is the kind of public appearance that Bishop Robert H. Brom largely has avoided in his 18 years here.

The spiritual leader of a million Catholics in San Diego and Imperial counties has steadfastly kept a low profile, rarely speaking publicly outside of church and even more rarely answering questions.

In this case, he has been called to court to answer questions about church finances posed by lawyers for people who allege they were molested by priests and who now believe the church is hiding money to avoid paying them fair settlements.

Brom is far from alone among bishops in not being very forthcoming on this front.

But his reticence was well established even before the church’s sex scandal reached San Diego.

Unlike Cardinal Roger M. Mahony and other bishops who frequently dabble in politics and express opinions on social topics, Brom remains aloof.

“In my year and a half with the mayor, the bishop’s name has never come up,” said Fred Sainz, press secretary to San Diego Mayor Jerry Sanders.

In other cities, the bishop’s insularity might seem strange. Not in San Diego.

This city may lead the league in public figures who prefer to stay out of the public eye.

Take Carol C. Lam, the fired U.S. attorney, who has refused all interview requests since being pushed out of office.

Even before being ousted, Lam rarely spoke in public.

One exasperated reporter struggling to describe Lam’s style of letting the public puzzle over sparse comments described her as “Delphic.”

Elected officials in San Diego are chatty enough while they’re in office, but the last three mayors -- Dick Murphy, Susan Golding and Maureen O’Connor -- disappeared from public view the day they left office.

The late Joan Kroc, the McDonald’s heiress and a major philanthropic force in the city, routinely turned down interview requests (although her friends insisted she was warm, gracious and fun to be around).

When Ernest Rady, who amassed a fortune in the car-financing business and downtown real estate, donated enough money to have his name attached to Children’s Hospital, he was largely unknown to his fellow citizens.

Douglas Manchester, a major developer in the city now trying to reshape the waterfront with a controversial project, has a reputation for avoiding the news media.

And Chargers owner Alex Spanos lives in Stockton, but even when he comes to San Diego to watch his team, he isn’t gabby.

His son Dean, the team’s president, is accompanied by a flying wedge of staffers when he heads from his private box to the elevator at Qualcomm Stadium.

Shouted questions from sports reporters go unanswered.

There are, of course, exceptions to the local no-questions-please ethos.

Among them: Stephen Weber, president of San Diego State University and John Moores, owner of the San Diego Padres.

Still, reticence appears to be viewed as a civic virtue by many of the rich and powerful.

“It’s a San Diego phenomena,” said Tim McClain, editor of San Diego Metropolitan magazine.

“It’s frustrating because often these people are at the center of major news stories, and they are simply unreachable.”

George Mitrovich, president of the City Club of San Diego, said many public figures have declined his invitation to address the organization.

“It’s hubris: they think they’re more important than the rest of us and shouldn’t be held accountable,” he said.

Mitrovich was on the board of the Ecumenical Council of San Diego County for a decade, attempting to bring leaders of all faiths together.

“I think I met Brom once,” he said. “Maybe he’s painfully shy, but if so maybe they should have named someone else as bishop.”

Brom’s testimony, if it is not delayed, will concern the church’s tangled finances, not the molestation allegations.

Claimant attorneys assert the church has shifted money and assets to parishes and separate bank accounts to protect them from being included in any settlements. Brom declined repeated requests for an interview, as did his lawyers and the diocese spokesman.

As reluctant to speak as Brom may be, he’s chatty compared to the Copley family, which owns the San Diego Union-Tribune.

The newspaper regularly goes to court seeking access to public documents and on its editorial page often calls for openness.

But the paper’s personal style seems to be “do as we say, not as we do.”

Karin Winner, the newspaper’s editor, has turned down repeated requests from the City Club, Mitrovich said.

By comparison Max Frankel spoke twice to the club during his years as executive editor of the New York Times.

David Copley, owner-publisher of the Union-Tribune, turns down interview requests and rarely, if ever, is seen in public -- although his name does sometimes appear in coverage of La Jolla society.

He is following the lead of his mother and predecessor, the late Helen Copley.

Recently, one of the newspaper’s columnists had some sport with the San Diego airport authority president’s refusal to grant an interview.

The columnist called her office and got a return call not from her but from the airport’s attorney.

In turn, The Times called David Copley for an interview.

The return call, two days later, came not from Copley but from the newspaper’s attorney.

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tony.perry@latimes.com