Like many Angelenos, I’ve been gobsmacked by the scandals that have engulfed the City Council in the past several years. José Huizar and Mitch Englander pleaded guilty for their roles in a pay-to-play play scheme. A federal jury in March convicted Mark Ridley-Thomas of corruption and bribery. The District Attorney has charged Curren Price with embezzlement and perjury. And there’s the infamous audio recording that forced Council President Nury Martinez to resign after the world heard her racist bile. The same recording tanked the public perceptions of Gil Cedillo and Kevin de León.
That’s seven pols mired in muck, along with unending discussions about trust in government.
I’d say the situation is beyond comparison, but there actually are comparisons. Certainly the recent misbehavior—lowlighted by Huizar bilking developers out of at least $1.5 million and pleading guilty to racketeering—exceeds everything else. But pols keep getting in trouble for things that are entirely avoidable.
Maybe this shouldn’t be a surprise. There’s a reason British historian Lord Acton in 1887 wrote in a letter that, “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
History is replete with examples: The Teapot Dome scandal of the 1920s hampered the administration of President Warren Harding. Watergate forced President Richard Nixon to resign. Bill Clinton was impeached for lying about his relationship with an intern. Donald Trump was impeached twice – for threatening to withhold aid from Ukrainian leader Volodymyr Zelensky unless he helped Trump’s re-election and for inciting the January 6, 2021, insurrection when that re-elect fell short.
Local government is not immune. New York had Tammany Hall, and Chicago politics is almost synonymous with the shady electoral phrase, “vote early and often.” In Los Angeles, Mayor Frank Shaw’s administration was famously corrupt; the text on his official City Hall portrait states that he “left office as a result of recall action” in 1938.
The past three decades have produced numerous what-were-they-thinking? scandals. Police Chief Willie L. Williams lied to the Police Commission about accepting freebies in Vegas, and was shown the door. The same year, City Hall was rocked when the LAPD arrested Councilman Mike Hernandez on cocaine charges; it turned out he had a $150-a-day habit and was living in his car and office. He resisted calls to resign, and, after getting his affairs in order, he became a notable behind-the-scenes advisor to other pols.
Martin Ludlow won the 10th District post in 2003, but resigned in 2005 to run the L.A. County Federation of Labor. Within months he was in the soup, and he pleaded guilty to conspiring to embezzle union funds tied to his successful council run. He has a second act helming the production firm Bridge Street.
Antonio Villaraigosa never tangled with prosecutors, but in 2007, two years after becoming mayor, he was enmeshed in another type of scandal—the sex kind. The married 54-year-old turned out to have a 35-year-old girlfriend, who was an anchor on Spanish-language station Telemundo and sometimes reported on the mayor. He would divorce his wife and win re-election, but his relationship with the city was never the same.
The list goes on. In the ’90s Councilman Nate Holden survived sexual harassment lawsuits by former employees and accusations that he lived in Marina Del Rey, and not in the 10th District he represented. District 14 Councilman Richard Alatorre was accused of using cocaine with a city contractor. In 2001, when he was out of office, he pleaded guilty to a federal charge of felony tax evasion from his time on the council (he was sentenced to home detention).
Then there’s Herb Wesson. Like Villaraigosa, he was never charged or accused of criminal activity. But it turns out that, while the then-Council president was shaping the city budget, he was having trouble with his personal budget. News reports in 2017 revealed that Wesson had received five default notices on properties he owned. Later stories described his travails paying a Discover credit card bill, and we’re all thinking the same thing—who has a Discover card?
These cases vary in severity, and distasteful actions are different than lawbreaking that leads to a conviction or guilty plea. And those mired in scandal should not mar the work of the many dedicated public servants who follow the rules.
But together, the incidents remind us that when it comes to L.A., another L.A.—Lord Acton—was on to something.
