LA Burning

In 1991, Rodney King had his first press-worthy run in with the law and it was certainly memorable. The California Highway Patrol attempted to stop him for traffic violations including suspected Driving Under the Influence and he wouldn’t comply. As he came into LA, our cops took over and ended up using force, a lot of which was captured on video and aired around the world.

While there were unreported factors that should have come into play, no one can argue that we (LAPD) looked anything but bad.

So in 1992 when the cops who were involved and had been brought to trial were acquitted by a jury that heard ALL the evidence, there was a great hue and cry in the southland. It all started at Normandie and Florence in South Los Angeles and at least partly because LAPD was totally unprepared to take any action and because of constant live news coverage (which really fans the flames in these kinds of situations) these disturbances quickly spread and were immediately out of control.

The afternoon the verdicts were handed down, I and several other motorcycle officers were at Central Traffic Division and about to go off duty. When we heard the verdicts, the consensus was “let’s get out of here while the getting is good.”

That night I worked an off-duty job at Dodger Stadium and Cathy paged me a couple of times and told me that Parker Center was under siege and that the Harbor Freeway was locked down. I also received word that the Department was mobilized meaning we were going to 12 hours on and 12 hours off shifts and that I was due in at 6:00 AM.

The next morning as I rode to work I could see numerous columns of smoke rising into the sky all over LA. The next morning there was only one but it was huge. The whole City seemed to be under one gigantic column of smoke.

When the Department finally figured out what to do with us, we were assigned by squads to escort fire trucks throughout the City. The trucks would go to a fire and spray some water from their on-board water canon and then move on. At one point we were sent to the station at 108th and Main because it was being evacuated and its equipment and personnel being moved. So we got them loaded up and set off to their next destination. At 108th and Broadway, one of our officer’s motorcycles died. The quick decision from our squad leader was to leave the officer and one partner behind and send them help as soon as we could. There was an angry crowd of thirty to fifty people right there and we knew we weren’t going to leave these guys by themselves with only one functioning motorcycle, so four of us stopped. We used cord cuff restraints, nylon ropes used to hog-tie violent suspects (only we don’t write it that way) to tow the dead motorcycle out of danger then we all caught up with our squad. Our squad leader was trying to be upset at us for not following orders but his heart wasn’t in it because he knew we did the right thing.

The riots lasted several days and millions of dollars worth of property was stolen or destroyed. It was hell on earth and I really hated to see it happen. And if this makes any sense, since it did happen I was really glad to have been a part of it.

The Love of My Life

While visiting with Jake during a rare moment of calmness at the SAG Awards Show, he asked about how his mom and I had met. When I told him the story, he suggested it was sufficiently interesting so as to qualify as a blog entry.

Thirty-one years ago I was already a young police officer with the Los Angeles Police Department and was living a somewhat carefree life. The Oakwood Gardens Apartment complex at the corner of Pacific Coast Highway and First Street in Seal Beach was my home. My roommate was Mark Fuhrman who later became infamous, erroneously, for his actions in the O.J. Simpson case.

Anyway, Mark and I were living a life style that was not totally consistent with LDS standards and I was growing increasingly unsatisfied with that life style. I decided to get away from the "Beach" scene and move back to the Alhambra area where I felt it would be easier to ease back into church oriented activities. So I rented a little house on a long driveway in Temple City where there were several other little houses, mostly occupied by other LDS people and small families.

On the weekend in March 1977, when I was moving, I was invited by Jack and Gail Reidy to go on a double date. Jack was one of my first Training Officers at 77th Street and a great gentleman and friend. His wife was also a wonderful friend and I trusted them when they said they new a cute and personable young woman who had married young after choosing poorly, was separated (getting a divorce), and had two little boys. You might wonder why me, a bachelor, would even consider a ready-made family. Well, I was already thirty-one years old and had about decided that I had little in common with most single women in their early twenties. Single women that were my age generally had "issues" that were impossible to deal with. These are generalities, of course, but often true. Most of the single women who were pretty squared away had tried marriage and found their first husbands to be more or less unsatisfactory. Anyway, I had met several such women and found them to be much more suitable but had not found one yet that I believed would make a good wife.

So the double (actually quadruple) date was set up. The guys would be sailing out of Newport Harbor during the day and the women would meet us for dinner. We did that and I had a great time. That's where I met Cathy for the first time. We seemed to hit it off well but she lived in Huntington Beach and I was moving that weekend to Temple City. It didn't matter. We dated a lot. I burned a ton of gasoline driving back and forth, we were in love.

Next problem: Cathy was not a mamber of the Church and, as I wrote earlier, I was trying to live a more Gospel-oriented life.

On Mothers' Day, 1977, she went to church with me at my Ward in Temple City. A member of the Stake Presidency spoke on motherhood and the woman's role in the Church. It was a great talk and Cathy wanted to know more. She joined the Church because she loved the teachings (and a little bit because she loves me) and we soon became engaged to be married. Michael was eight years old and Kevin was five when Cathy and I got married on September 10, 1977, a little over thirty years ago.

So there it is, Jake. Thanks for a good idea.

The Yagman Ultimatum

As I was reviewing some of my recent blogs while at home this evening, I was trying to think of another episode in my past that might be of interest. I have many such experiences on notes in various formats but they are all at my office.

I saw something that reminded me of an attorney (now ex attorney) named Steve Yagman and I recalled an incident that occurred several years ago in the Venice area of LA.

Yagman was an attorney who made a name for himself by suing LAPD and LAPD officers, usually frivolously (in my humble opinion). On the particular Sunday morning in question, I was working in West Traffic Division as 34M30, meaning I was a motorcycle sergeant. As I recall, it was a nice day and fairly quiet. Steven Yagman had recently been in the news for several high-profile lawsuits.

I heard a call on my police radio from one of my officers requesting a supervisor at a certain location. The officer, whose name escapes me right now, was a very bright fellow who I knew to be diligent on keeping abreast of the nuances of traffic enforcement law.

As you have probably guessed, I arrived to find that this officer had stopped Steven Yagman who was driving his late model Cadillac on Lincoln Boulevard with New York license plates that were expired. Officer Jones (not his real name) had decided to impound Mr. Yagman’s nice Cadillac and Mr. Yagman requested the presence of a police supervisor.

A little background here. California law allows police officers to impound vehicles if their registration has been expired in excess of six months which Yagman’s had NOT. However, the law also allows officers to impound vehicles being driven by unlicensed drivers.

Yagman displayed a valid New York driver’s license when initially stopped, claiming he was legally a resident of New York. Officer Jones, using the name and date of birth on Yagman’s license, ran the information through what is known as the State Automated Name Index (ANI) File (we do that over the radio through Communications Division) and found that Yagman had been issued a California driver’s license that was currently suspended for failing to appear for previous traffic tickets.

Officer Jones could barely conceal his excitement because not only was he going to impound Yagman’s nice new Caddy, he was going to place a 30 day hold on it.

So here I come in all my splendor and glory and Yagman asks if I would step away from the officer so he can speak to me. “Certainly” says I.

So Yagman says “I’m Steve Yagman.”

“I’m Sergeant Partridge” was my response. “How can I be of service?”

He then tells me “I sue police officers.”

“So I’ve heard” says I. “Are you planning on suing me or my officer for some reason?”

“No. Of course not.”

So I say again, “What can I do for you?”

“Well I want to make sure you understand that I sue police officers.”

“Well,” I said, “You keep saying that. Are we to feel afraid or intimidated? Are you threatening us for some reason?

“No. Of course not.”

I finally get him to ask me to have Officer Jones not impound the car. I explained the case and said that it looked to me like the car should be impounded. At one point I asked him if he had driven that nice clean Cadillac all the way from New York. He said he had done so several times. He hadn’t been willing to give up his car keys and his odometer was one that is only visible with the key on, so I asked him for his ignition key so I could see his odometer and verify all those trips across America (not that it mattered). He wouldn’t do it.

Bottom line, the car got impounded. We made sure that the Vehicle Coordinator at Pacific Station (the only person who could commute the vehicle’s 30 day sentence) got a strong message from us that we really hoped to see the vehicle serve all of its 30 days. We also made our case that the vehicle should not be released until it was properly registered in California. And that’s what happened and Officer Jones and I were hailed as conquering heroes. Jones more than me, but some Sergeants would have caved at approving that impound but I didn’t.

So the only run in I have ever had with Yagman was a victory for truth, justice and the American way as defined by LAPD.

Last Summer, Yagman was accused of some serious crimes to which he pled “presumed innocent.”

I was delighted to hear later that he was found guilty and probably will now have to say when pulled over in the future, “Hi! I’m Steve Yagman and I used to sue police officers.”

Tolerance

Yesterday the police department sent me to the Museum of Tolerance for a Training Day. This was my third or fourth visit to this facility over the years, all on duty and all as training days. Each visit saw new exhibits and demonstrations and each was very interesting.

I am, I imagine, not too different from most people who walk in believing that they are in little need of tolerance training. I learned the first time that it doesn't matter. If nothing else, the presentation is extremely thought-provoking.

Yesterday, I had several thoughts. As I watched the evolution of World Ward II in Europe as presented, it is clear that many (not all) average, ordinary people began to, for whatever reason, assume a stance that supported the Nazis. In many cases anti Jewish grafitti and vandalism was done by those ordinary people and eventually some pretty horrific acts including injuring people, then looting and burning their homes and businesses took place. The thought I had was "What would I have been like had I been a German young man at that time?" My next thought was that I'm glad I wasn't put in that position.

Another thought that came to me yesterday was how much cruelty exists in the world. It is beyond me how one human being can not just kill another, but savagely beat them to death. In my 38 years in police work I have come to the unalterable conclusion that I have seen the power of Satan at work among mankind myself and in history. One of the strongest and most powerful reasons that I believe the Gospel is true is that I have witnessed the power and cruelty and dishonesty of Satan. I can't believe people would be that cruel without that influence.

Of course, I have also seen the good things that result from attempting to live by the Savior's very simple instructions as found in the Sermon on the Mount and the Book of Mormon equivalent in 3rd Nephi. Adhering to the Teachings of Jesus Christ results in an absence of contention and conflict and allows peace, happiness and joy to flourish.

So, obviously I had a lot of time to day dream during yesterday's presentation but it was all good.

The closing speaker was an 83 year old Greek Jew who was in his late teens during WW II. He had scars everywhere including dog maulings scars on his face, rifle butt scars on his head, scars from bullet wounds and mishapen fingers from fractures. He had the obligatory numbers stamped on his forearm. He was a little hard to understand but he was a ball of fire. Very spunky and very proud of the mementos given him by the liberating Americans.

Every American should hear the stories this man had to tell. Perhaps we would more completely understand and appreciate how special and rare is what God has created in the land known as America.