“… Blacks might be more likely to die from choke holds because their arteries do not open as fast as they do on ‘normal people.’”
–Former Chief Daryl Gates in a 1982 quote to the “L.A. Times” about high fatality rates suffered during police restraints, which prompted the Urban League to call for his suspension.
Daryl Gates’ death last week was a footnote in the saga of a man who embodied the image of the institution he devoted much of his adult life to–The Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD).
A product of the “Greatest Generation” which was shaped by the Depression and the World War, he was committed to the paramilitary ethic that enabled his predecessor, William H. Parker to elevate the department from the morass of corruption that was a hallmark of city government in those days, into an elite force glamorized throughout the world.
Early in his career Gates served as Parker’s driver, and the older man made an indelible mark as a mentor to him. Another possible influence that helped shaped Gates was the fact that three of the male figures closest to him were substance abusers. His father was a confirmed drunk (as was Chief Parker) who, as the chief was growing up, placed an additional strain on the Depression-era, hardscrabble family. Finally, his son Scott showed up at the ceremony in which his dad was sworn in as chief under the influence of heroin.
Civil rights activist and lawyer Connie Rice encountered Chief Gates, during the course of several lawsuits from the 1980s through the new millennium, and noted that his dedication to law enforcement led him to defend the police, right or wrong. The resulting alienation of Black and Latino communities eventually boomeranged, and in the end Gates could not change quickly enough to match Los Angeles’ evolution.
Councilman Bernard Parks began his career of public service with a storied rise up the ranks of the L.A.P.D. during which he periodically served under the command of Gates. He noted the necessity of maintaining discipline in a force with the lowest police to civilian ratio of any major metropolitan area in the world. Contrasting the public perception of Gates as a totalitarian martinet with little or no tolerance for the new concept of community policing, Parks pointed to the many innovations initiated during Gates’ tenure such as block clubs, out reach programs, and most prominently the D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) Program, that the chief implemented or supervised during his watch.
Parks believes that Gates’ inflammatory remarks were calculated to evoke response, and the chief may well have enjoyed making them, even if he later regretted the results.
Cecil Murray first came to Los Angeles with the Air Force in 1956, and followed his calling to pastor a congregation first in Pomona, then at the First African Methodist Episcopal Church. Along the way, he periodically crossed paths with Gates and expressed his sympathies to the chief’s family, while remaining steadfast about his misgivings for a man he found to be a staunch advocate of police power at the expense of civil rights of the marginalized.
Police abuse became an increasingly prominent topic in the 1970s and ’80s, causing Gates’ and Murray’s paths to cross consistently, notably in two well-publicized debates. Although their exchanges were civil, Murray dismisses the chief’s personal attributes, reasoning that his overall impact on the city negated any positive individual characteristics.
In Rev. Murray’s view, the collective mindset of Gates and the police establishment hierarchy did not change after the Watts Riot despite all the commissions, studies, and social programs initiated. This resulted in another six day uprising in May 1992, partially because Blacks had no rights that the police felt obliged to observe. Only after the chaos died down and substantial remedial efforts went into effect, including the termination and adjudication of the police officers involved in the beating of motorist Rodney King, was the emergence of a new “body politic” possible.
Ramona Ripston, executive director of the ACLU of Southern California, was the first civic leader to call for Gates’ resignation in the wake of the 1992 Los Angeles civil unrest. Gates, in turn, sometimes referred to her as “Ramona Ripoff.” Ripston offered the following statement in response to news of Gates’ death: “Daryl Gates failed to react to a changing Los Angeles and a changing culture in policing. At a time of great unrest in our city, he was a lightning rod for criticism and controversy, and deservedly so, in part because of his penchant for making disturbing, overly broad statements. He inherited a police department with little respect for minority communities or for civil liberties and civil rights, and he continued that legacy throughout his career.”
