On chief's team, ego, temper are the stars

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By MARY JO MELONE

© St. Petersburg Times, published July 9, 2000

If this dust-up between coach and player had occurred in the pros, there'd be videotape to analyze and cries of foul from the press box.

But we're not talking sports. For the ball field, substitute the room in the St. Petersburg Police Department where roll call takes place at every shift change.

If it helps, think of the opening sequence from that great, late, TV show, Hill Street Blues.

Picture it: 4 p.m., Wednesday. The night shift was coming on. The rumors in-house were thicker than mosquitoes on a summer's night. One of the most popular guys in the department, a cop apparently so nice his last name was really Sugar -- Dave Sugar -- was said to be getting the ax.

They must have known as soon as they saw Police Chief Go Davis. He has a habit of showing up at roll call to explain his disciplinary decisions.

The rumor mill was on the money. The chief announced Sugar had been fired that morning. Davis believed he had lied when he failed to corroborate the stories of three other cops, who said a fourth had roughed up a drug suspect.

The questions to Davis were gentle at first, like an outfield warmup. Once they were nice and loose, though, the rank and file started pitching some fast ones. Finally, a canine cop named Dan Feeley spoke up from the back of the room. One of his friends, Officer Dave Beeler, watched, half holding his breath.

Davis told a most unhappy Feeley to read the disciplinary file on Sugar. Feeley must have sensed a dodge. For Beeler recalled him saying: "That's your out every time, because we don't have a chance to read the file, and that's why you're here, to explain it to us."

With that, Beeler said, Davis "marched all the way over to get in Feeley's face and started pointing a finger" at him, almost touching Feeley's nose. All the while, the chief repeated: "I'm the chief! Know who you're talking to!"

Soon Feeley was handed a two-day suspension for insubordination.

This is the administration's version: Davis did try to answer Feeley's questions as the chief walked around the room, but Feeley tried to intimidate the chief by advancing on him and raising his voice in a threatening manner.

As I said, there's no videotape, just eyewitnesses with their own axes to grind. So you could call this a case of who knows, except it all sounds familiar.

There was the time Davis wanted to fire a major and found his excuse partly in deciding that the response of the obviously upset and soon-to-be ex-major also was threatening.

There was the time Davis stormed into a City Council session and berated the council for listening to complaints about the department from a citizen.

In April, Davis mixed it up with council member Bill Foster. They later apologized, but only after Foster initiated it.

Last month, Davis walked out of negotiations with the police union. These were talks the union wanted, talks they wanted so much they accepted a mediator who was not neutral but a Davis pal.

Before I wear out the sports analogy, let me suggest that Davis must be getting advice on handling his ego, and his temper, from basketball's most famous wallflower, Bobby Knight.

But I'll admit a police chief has an excruciatingly difficult job. You have to have a shell like a turtle's. You can't let your emotions flare. You have to be wise and steady. Most of all you have to set an example.

Some example: Here's a chief who tells his officers to be sensitive to the public, yet when it comes to his officers, he throws his weight around like a truck.

Late Friday, I asked Davis why Beeler would go even farther than Feeley, and spell out his beefs to a reporter. The chief's answer was so warm, fuzzy and telling.

"Typical Beeler," he said. "We know Beeler."

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