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

‘“Civil disobedience’… simply means the violation of local laws that someone has decided are not based on morality of justice.”

—William Parker

POLICE LIEUTENANT Tom Bradley didn’t immediately realize that his transfer from public relations to Wilshire Division was a form of punishment. Instead, he seems to have viewed the move as an opportunity. Wilshire Division had long been largely off-limits to black officers. The appointment of a black lieutenant—even to the midnight shift—seemed like a huge step forward. Chief Parker’s comments before the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights were also encouraging. Bradley decided that the time was right to attempt a major goal—desegregating the radio cars.

As watch commander, Bradley had considerable authority. Soon after moving to Wilshire Division, he gave the order that henceforth all radio cars in that division would be integrated. But Bradley knew he would need the chief to back him up. At least some white officers were sure to complain and resist. So he sent a request up the chain of command asking Chief Parker to support the new policy. Bradley’s proposal was tough: If officers didn’t go along with the new policy, they would be out of a job, “just like any other type of insubordination.”

Parker refused. Without backup from the brass, Bradley’s integration was doomed. Just as he had feared, some white officers under his command complained loudly of reverse discrimination and sabotaged assignments by calling in sick on the days they were paired with black officers. Without support from his superiors, Bradley was unable to respond effectively to such disobedience. Bradley’s efforts to integrate Wilshire slowly withered. As for Bradley himself, with a law degree in hand and pension eligibility fast approaching, he began to consider a new career—in politics.

    IN JUNE 1959, at roughly the same time Lieutenant Bradley was beginning to seriously consider a political career, Officer Francisco Leon responded to a report of an auto theft. He soon spotted the stolen car and set off in pursuit. The car chase ended with a hail of bullets and the sixteen-year-old African American car thief dead. The shooting of an unarmed teenager led to demands for an investigation. County coroner Theodore Curphey announced that he would convene a coroner’s jury to determine whether the shooting had been justified or an act of criminal homicide. He then made a provocative announcement: The coroner’s jury, he declared, would be composed entirely of Negroes.

The NAACP immediately objected. For years the group had protested the selection of all-white coroner juries, but this was reverse segregation, the group argued. So Dr. Curphey amended his plan. The coroner’s jury would have six black jurors—a majority—and four Caucasians. On June 29, 1960, the coroner’s jury handed down the recommendation that Officer Leon be prosecuted for homicide.

Chief Parker exploded. The coroner himself had originally stated “that he saw no basis for prosecution in this case,” Parker stated. The intentional selection of a majority Negro jury was, Parker charged, a reckless experiment in whether “a Negro jury could be unprejudiced.” As far as Parker was concerned, by recommending that Officer Leon be prosecuted for murder, the jury had essentially answered the question—in the negative.

Soon after the verdict, Parker addressed the issue of why groups like the NAACP and the ACLU were always on the attack against the police department. It was not because of actual police brutality, Parker told his audience. No, complaints of police brutality represented something else entirely; they were an example of that most nefarious of totalitarian propaganda techniques, “The Big Lie,” an untruth so colossal that most people were unable to grasp that it was wholly fabricated. Pioneered by the Nazis, adopted by the Communists, this was the technique now being deployed against the LAPD. Those who used it—notably the NAACP and ACLU—did so knowingly, as part of a plan to undermine American democracy. As Parker told the Bond Club, “The type of democracy they [the NAACP and ACLU] are trying to sell is represented by People’s World,” the weekly newspaper of the Communist Party of the United States.

Whether because of the department’s actions or the “Big Lie,” by early 1961 one thing was certain: Chief Parker had become a deeply unpopular figure in the black community—even as the black community was be coming an increasingly important part of the city. A mayoral election was fast approaching, and the conduct of the police department under incumbent mayor Norris Poulson promised to be a significant issue. That presented Poulson’s primary opponent, Rep. Sam Yorty, with both an opportunity and a danger.