One of a series
Even though meaningful crime historically is invisible in Culver City — Ted Cooke and all of his successors have said so — at least for this summer, the most difficult job in the community must belong to the Chief of Police.
As the hot season has worn on, members of the Police Officers Assn. have grown increasingly emboldened in their roughly 8-month campaign to ride 49-year-old Don Pedersen out of the Chief’s chair.
From last winter’s membership survey designed to serve as mathematical proof of appallingly low department morale by the police union, through springtime off-stage maneuverings to the culminating lopsided no-confidence vote a month ago, the leaders of the uprising have demanded and practiced anonymity.
Not a drop leaked about last winter’s trouble-warning survey of the 89 members of the union or the three tense meetings between the two sides that followed.
The first newspaper reports finally surfaced in this newspaper in June, immediately before the daunting no-confidence vote.
Through the whole melodrama, not one party would agree to be quoted by name — until now.
Last week, the momentum was reversed, and an aquatic avalanche followed.
Six days ago, on the wings of a press release on the website of the police union, without warning, klieg lights suddenly were trained on the center ring — the marquee matchup was the five-person Board of Directors of the Police Officers Assn. vs. Chief Pedersen for five alleged abrogations of ethical behavior.
And so after a two-thirds-of-the-year gestation period, both sides are confidently striding from the womb, not even needing to blink their eyes as they step into full public view.
Elsewhere in today’s edition, two members of the POA board separately and lengthily detail their complaints about their boss and his defenders.
Earlier, Mr. Pedersen sat down for a one-hour airing of his feelings about the swirling atmosphere that no longer is denied or a muted secret.
Of slight build but packing immense energy, Mr. Pedersen, unlike his Culver City predecessors, owns a wide shy streak and just as broad of a sense of humor, which the public hardly ever sees.
Away from the department, the mask of reticence melts and he turns into a capital adventurer — he sails and he is a veteran airplane pilot.
Combining the uncommon zest, ambition and courage required of a middle-aged man who is a police chief by day before morphing into a sailor or pilot, he is not easily blown down.
With that background, it may be only logical for Mr. Pedersen to press his feet into the ground and declare that he is going to see this siege through, promising to be upright at the end.
“I am not planning to go away,” he said.
(To be continued)
