L.A. Noir: The Struggle for the Soul of America's Most Seductive City

Hindered by a full-time job and a crumbling marriage, he made little progress. In early 1925, Francis decided that she had had enough. She left Los Angeles, returned to her hometown of Oregon City, and filed for a divorce, claiming that Parker had “made Plaintiff’s life unbearable and has rendered further cohabitation with the Defendant [Parker] absolutely distasteful and made it utterly impossible for Plaintiff and Defendant to live together as husband and wife.” Bill didn’t bother to respond to the summons to appear in court or to contest the divorce, and on May 9, 1925, a judge in Clackamas County, Oregon, granted Francis’s divorce request and awarded her possession of their one significant asset, “one Upright Sonora Phonograph,” valued at $150.

Freed of his wife—a woman about whom he would never speak in subsequent years—Parker returned to the study of law with a vengeance. In 1926, he enrolled at a different institution, the Los Angeles College of Law at the University of the West. He also hit upon a new way to make a living while studying to become a lawyer: He decided to apply for a position as a policeman. Hours were flexible; the pay was adequate (about $2,000 a year, roughly what a skilled laborer earned); and benefits were good. Being a policeman was still far from a prestigious job; one public opinion survey from the era found that police officers were more respected than chauffeurs, janitors, and clerks but less respected than machinists and stenographers. But then Bill Parker would not be a policeman forever. Once he got his law degree, he planned to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and make his living as an attorney.

On April 24, 1926, Parker sat for a civil service exam. The competition was not formidable. Only about two-thirds of the men on the force had finished grade school; a mere one in ten had graduated from high school. Five months later, he received a notice stating that he had scored 85.7 on the exam, making him number 115 on the list of those eligible for a job with the police department. Never again would William Parker score so low on a civil service exam. Still, it was good enough. When his number came up, Parker was offered a position. On August 8, 1927, he joined the Los Angeles Police Department. There he made a startling discovery. In Los Angeles, the police didn’t fight organized crime. They managed it.

^* A battle was precisely what it was. In 1910, the steelworkers union had blown up the Times building at First and Broadway, killing more than twenty people. Otis and Chandler responded by beefing up the LAPD and unleashing it on Communists, anarchists, union organizers, and others who threatened Los Angeles’s status as an “open shop” town.

4

The Bad Old Good Old Days

“[A] smart lawyer can keep a crook out of jail… buy or bamboozle a jury, but he cannot prevent the cops from beating the hell out of a crook.”

—Leslie White, Me, Detective

FOR THE FIRST FOUR DECADES of its existence, the Los Angeles Police Department led a desultory existence. Founded in 1869 (with six paid men), the force was outmatched from the beginning. While the department proved adept at tasks such as keeping cattle out of the streets and forcing Indians into chain gangs, it showed little ability to curb the startlingly high levels of violence that prompted its creation.

“The name of this city is in Spanish the city of Angels, but with much more truth might it be called at present the city of Demons,” wrote a visiting divine. “While I have been here in Los Angeles only two weeks, there have been eleven deaths, and only one of them a natural [one].”

Far from reducing the violence, the police at times contributed to it, as on the memorable occasion when the city marshal (also the city dogcatcher and tax collector) got into a shootout with one of his own officers at the corner of Temple and Main after a dispute over who should receive the reward for capturing and returning a prostitute who had escaped from one of the city’s Chinese tongs.

“While there are undoubtedly good men upon the police force, the body as a whole is not a matter for our citizens to be proud of,” sighed the Los Angeles Herald in 1900. “It is perfectly obvious to all that the policemen have not been selected for their honesty or fitness, but through political favor and for political purposes…. [Many officers] are over age, some under size, others unfit for duty; some do not pay their just debts, others figure prominently in divorce cases, and some receive money from sporting women for the privilege of soliciting upon the streets.”