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

This was too much. Rev. J. Raymond Henderson decided to hold a protest at his Second Baptist Church, one of the largest congregations in the west. On the evening of Sunday, May 13, nearly three thousand people packed the church, among them the exotic Muslim leader from New York, Malcolm X. As a non-Christian, he was not allowed to step into the worship area. But when he rose from his front-row seat and asked to address the audience, Reverand Henderson allowed him to proceed. Malcolm X’s speech was so mesmerizing, an undercover LAPD officer reported, that when Reverend Henderson tried to interrupt his diatribe about police brutality, the reverend’s own congregation booed their minister into silence.

The LAPD was losing the black community.

In early June, a group called the United Clergymen for Central Los Angeles denounced Parker as “anti-Negro” and asked Mayor Yorty to personally investigate complaints of verbal and physical brutality. Parker responded that this was nothing more than an attempt by Communist sympathizers to use the technique of the “Big Lie” against the department. Mayor Yorty rushed to his police chief’s defense.

“I doubt if there is any city in the United States with more Negroes in government than Los Angeles,” Yorty told the press, noting that he himself was a member of the NAACP and that both his civil service and police commissions were dominated by minorities. This was technically true. The Police Commission’s five members did include a black attorney, a Latino doctor, and a Jewish lawyer. But these men hardly served as Parker’s boss. On the contrary, Parker himself had chosen at least one of the minority members, African American attorney Elbert Hudson. As for the constant drumbeat of allegations about police brutality, Yorty dismissed them as “wild and exaggerated” and echoed Parker’s suggestion that they were Communist inspired. That summer Parker flew to Washington, D.C., to brief Attorney General Robert Kennedy on the Black Muslim menace.

Chief Parker ignored—or mocked—those who sought to draw attention to African American grievances. When in early 1963, the Episcopal bishop of California drew attention to “the bad psychological pattern” between police and minority groups, Parker hit back, dismissing the prelate as an uninformed San Franciscan.

“The Negro community here has praised us long and loud,” Parker insisted. “We have the best relationship with Negroes of any big city in America today.”

Chief Parker and Mayor Yorty’s brush-off inspired black Angelenos to take action. The following year, in 1963, three African Americans were elected or appointed to the city council, Billy Mills, Gilbert Lindsay, and Tom Bradley. All had made police accountability a major part of their campaign platforms. All soon discovered that they could make no headway against Chief Parker.

That August, America watched while civil rights demonstrators converged in Washington, D.C., for a march to demand jobs and freedom for all Americans. To many Americans, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech was a thrilling paean to the promises of freedom. To Chief Parker, it was an invitation to revolt. Immediately after the March on Washington, law enforcement and National Guard officials met to draft a plan to respond to civil disorder. An emergency plan was developed, numbering nearly a hundred pages in length. Later that fall, LAPD officials wrote a memo on police-guard coordination that included a provision that would permit the use of hand grenades against protesters.

The emergence of a civil rights movement founded on the concept of civil disobedience likewise disturbed Parker greatly—more greatly than the conditions that prompted its emergence. Parker seemed to believe that Los Angeles already was as integrated as it could be, short of embracing “reverse discrimination” (i.e., forcing white people to work with and live next to black people when they would rather not). When asked how he would have responded to civil rights demonstrations had he been the chief of police in Birmingham, Parker ducked the question. “Los Angeles is not Birmingham,” he replied. To Parker, the willingness of Los Angeles-area civil rights organizations to criticize the LAPD—a department that Chief Parker firmly believed had done “a magnificent job” with race relations—afforded the final proof that the civil rights movement was essentially pro-Communist and antipolice.