I can think of no other explanation for the blatant rejection.
Sherlock died a hundred years ago. Even in his present state of advanced decomposition, he knows the identities of the three Council members and their motives.
Sometimes they welcome attention. Sometimes they shun it — depending on how they perceive community reaction.
Happy Days Not Here Again
Two years ago this month, the story was drastically different.
When Everybody’s Friend, John Montanio, was appointed Police Chief, the chests of those three Council members were puffed out so far they looked like a separate part of their bodies. “Look at me,” they chortled in unison, “I voted for Montanio. I voted for a hometown boy. Aren’t you proud of me? I did the right thing.”
This time, the very same people have executed their best Ted Cooke Disappearing Act—diving under a big, fat desk so no one will blame them for snubbing The Obvious Candidate.
I want the Brown Bag concession.
Last time, the unbending theme from the dais was, and I quote: “We must hire from within for the sake of continuity and stability.”
The hometown candidate this time was, if anything, more qualified than Mr. Montanio. What happened to the bandwagon?
If the three City Council members had seen the class and strength of character that Asst. Chief Hank Davies displayed on Wednesday when he received the news that he had lost, they might have changed their votes.
Let me cite the most compelling reasons to have voted for Mr. Davies:
A convivial, contributing, visible member of the Culver City Police Dept. for twenty-five years, his officers overwhelmingly wanted him. He knows the department, its culture, its idiosyncrasies, its intricacies, its pitfalls more intimately than the even officers’ spouses.
Why did he spend a quarter-century here accumulating invaluable institutional memory if only to be thrown out of a window at the very moment of blooming?
When I called on Mr. Davies, at the relatively late hour of 10:15 on Wednesday morning, I was, unexpectedly, the first to bring him the news that he had been passed over.
He digested the disappointment with the overt good cheer of a loyal soldier —another instructive reason, dear reader, for designating him the next Police Chief.
He was, shall we say charitably, surprised that no one from City Hall — inches away — showed him the rudimentary courtesy that you would give to a bum.
Gross negligence.
I mean, it is not as if they had to hire a detective agency in New Delhi to track him down. They could have messaged him with a dead carrier pigeon at no charge.
Doesn’t this come under the heading of cruel, insensitive behavior?
From the dais we often hear pea-sized paeans of patent-leather praise for loyal employees of the city. You know whose likeness is on the city’s dollar bill? Hank Davies’.
Hello? City Hall Calling
I don’t know if anyone from City Hall yet has called on him. Doesn’t matter. Too late. This would be strictly damage control.
Bet your Culver City dollars that the cops participating in this weekend’s Baker to Las Vegas Run will have plenty of personal gas to vent out in the desert about the rejection of Mr. Davies.
Officially, grumbling around the station started at 12:10 p.m. Wednesday. Insiders , don’t expect it to abate in the foreseeable future. Who could blame the most aggressive thinkers in the department for swerving into a surly mood?
Perhaps Mr. Pedersen, by the sheer force of his style, will be able to reverse their understandable resentment when he takes over on May 8.
In the first hours after the heartbreak of receiving the back of the hand from three members of the City Council, Mr. Davies said only the right words.
The natural inclination would have been to spread a little heat.
You know how long Mr. Davies has been building toward this day? Think about the fragility of his feelings as he survived each cut since applications closed in January, how he finally made it into the circle of three on Thursday night of last week.
This letdown ranks with the most difficult tests of a man’s character.
If you were building a Police Chief, you would start with the assets that Mr. Davies possesses.
Mr. Pedersen, the Police Chief in Signal Hill, comes well recommended.
Department Heads Liked Him
During Tuesday’s interviews that department heads conducted with the three candidates, Mr. Pedersen received high, enthusiastic markings.
Plainly, the matter of Mr. Davies is unrelated to the entirely valid reasons for hiring Mr. Pedersen.
However, when you have nurtured a lovely bouquet of cheeky red roses in your front yard, why would you ignore them, walk down the street and pay $125 to a stranger for a bouquet?
This is not a potah-toes, potay-toes dispute. This was deliberately shoving a good man down the stairs.
As for the new chief, one of the first storylines reaching Culver City has it that his officers sincerely regret his departure.
These were among the impressions department heads relayed to the City Council before the decisive voting:
Mr. Pedersen is a leader of “quiet strength,” “a solid professional who believes in integrating the Police Dept. into the greater city government,” and an advocate of pro-active policing.
The Interim Police Chief, Bill Burck, told me in January that if he applied and were passed over, he could not return to work here. He decided later not to apply.
Mr. Davies insists that his loyalty to the department takes primacy over personal disappointment.
Admirable, but I don’t believe I could be that gallant.
Is there a baleful reason for steering away from Mr. Davies that the three Council members are shielding from public view?
If not, why would they walk past the impressive veteran , without even a faint nod, and say, in unison, “I will take that stranger over there. He doesn’t know anything about the Culver City department. He doesn’t know the people, he doesn’t know the rhythms of the department. Therefore, he is the best choice.”
Postscript
One final, semi-suspenseful drama remains to be unfurled.
Two years ago, after Mr. Montanio had been unanimously voted in as the new chief, behind closed doors, the City Council blithely took a ceremonial poll on the dais.
Playing to the crowd, wouldn’t you know it, the result was a (meaningless) five to nothing, affirming the appointment. Cheers followed. Figuratively, toasts were offered.
The mood this time is slightly more ghostly.
Since the three persons who voted for Mr. Pedersen so far only are admitting to name, rank and serial number, will there be a similar ceremonial vote at Monday night’s meeting?
Just asking.