Daily Journal - Apr 7, 2005

Jurist Dispenses Equal Portions of Justice and Levity
Pasadena Commissioner, 74, Rides Motorcycles, Pilots Aerobatic Airplane

Preciliano P. Recendez
Superior Court Commissioner
Los Angeles (Pasadena)

        LOS ANGELES - Department M in Los Angeles Superior Court's Pasadena Courthouse is one of those mixed-calendar courtrooms where speeders and drunken-driving suspects can exchange small talk with small-claims and unlawful-detainer litigants while they await their all-too-brief encounter with the bench officer - in this case, Commissioner Preciliano P. Recendez.
        While the white-haired Recendez hears one case, a half-dozen or so bailiffs are preparing for the next one. Deputy sheriffs marshal in the "custodies" and guide them, hand-in-handcuff, to the jury box - men on one side, women on the other.
        County and city prosecutors listen to plea proposals, while their counterparts in the public defender's office meet, maybe for the first time, with their defendant-clients in a corner of the courtroom, in the hallway or, if they're in custody, in the jury box. Two clerks keep the case files flowing.
        In the middle of what a first-time visitor might interpret as mass confusion, the commissioner deals equal portions of decorum, justice and levity.
        Recendez, 74, recently dismissed the charges against two young men whom police had cited for violating the city's ordinance that requires skateboarders to wear proper safety equipment, but he couldn't pass up the chance to share his favorite comedian's view of the controversy.
        "George Lopez says Mexican safety equipment means wearing a long-sleeved shirt," Recendez said.
        Such a remark coming from a septuagenarian may appear incongruous to people in the courtroom. What they don't know, however, is that he also rides motorcycles and pilots aerobatic airplanes, loops and all.
        Another defendant was unhappy he had to appear in court to explain why he hadn't paid his $111 traffic fine.
        "This is awful," the man said.
        "I don't care if it's awful," Recendez said. "It's already done. You owe us $111."
        "I'm going to write to Mrs. Bush," the man said.
        "When you write to the president's wife," Recendez said, "tell her I voted for them."
        The commissioner wouldn't allow any more conversation and again ordered him to pay the fine.
        "Sir," he said, "it's closed. Goodbye!"
        Before a defendant in another case could complete even his first sentence, Recendez interrupted: "Take your hands out of your pockets!"
        By late morning on this particularly typical day, one man remained in the audience. When nobody could find a remaining case file, the judge asked the man what kind of case he was here for.
        "I'm just watching," the man said.
        Recendez welcomed the court watcher.
        "This is more fun than 'Judge Judy,'" the commissioner quipped. "You don't have to pay for cable to be a spectator, but I charge a quarter."
        Deputy District Attorney David Lopez watches scenes like this unfold every day in Department M.
        "This is a madhouse from beginning to end," Lopez said, "only because of the amount of cases that come before him. But he does all that work and still smiles."
        Connie E. Orozco, the chief prosecutor for the city of Pasadena, says Recendez is a fair judicial officer who runs a very efficient courtroom.
        "It doesn't mean we always agree with him," Orozco said. "I'd like to see him be a little bit tougher on the people that he sentences and the people who violate their probation."
        Other than that, she says, she'd be hard-pressed to come up with any criticism.
        "He's no-nonsense," Orozco said. "He doesn't allow people to chew gum or put their hands in their pockets. I think that gives him that air of authority that people need when they walk into a courtroom."
        Andrew L. Hurley, who works for the county counsel, says he admires Recendez for the way he treats people.
        Hurley recalled how, in juvenile court, a defendant's father had brought in as an expert witness a former drug addict who was now working as a drug counselor.
        "This guy had lived a hard life," Hurley recalled. "He had tattoos and all."
        Recendez saw the man outside afterward, waiting for a bus that would take him home to Torrance.
        "Recendez actually drove the guy home," Hurley said, "all the way to Torrance."
        Recendez lives in Monterey Park.
        "'You know, it was cold outside,'" Hurley recalled Recendez saying the next morning. "'I didn't want the guy to be cold.'
        "You feel like you're his equal - not that he's up there and you're down there."
        Recendez was born into a world that many would have considered "down there." His family lived in a part of East Los Angeles known as Barrio Nuevo, the new ghetto.
        His father died when he was 2. That left his mother, crippled by polio, to support six children by herself. They survived on county aid, he said.
        "Her whole left side was paralyzed," Recendez said. "But she did well. Of course, she wouldn't let us fool around much. 'Go out and get me a stick!' Of course, we'd get the smallest one.
        "'No, no, no! Get me a bigger one.'"
        All of the children worked, he said. He worked in a grocery store not far from Roosevelt High School.
        "I didn't like school," he said, "so I quit and went in the service."
        That was 1948. His job was to lay phone lines. When the Korean War broke out in 1950, President Truman extended enlistments by a year so he and others could go to the war zone. He was able to earn his general equivalency diploma while he was in the Marines.
        When Recendez received his discharge in 1952, he went to work for Pacific Telephone for seven years.
        During that time, he earned his associate's degree from East Los Angeles College. In 1965, he worked for a small company that Xerox gobbled up.
        By 1974, Recendez had earned his bachelor's degree in business administration from California State University, Los Angeles.
        Three years later, he took the advice of his brother-in-law and entered the University of West Los Angeles School of Law while he was working for Xerox.
        "Then they gave me an offer I couldn't refuse," Recendez said. "They gave me an early retirement, so it worked out perfectly.
        "I was 46 when I entered law school. I finished when I was 50."
        He didn't pass the State Bar Exam on his first try, so he decided to do nothing but study.
        "I just sat in my garage for nine months and just wrote good answers," Recendez said.
        When he passed the bar, he doubted that anybody would want to hire a 53-year-old rookie attorney.
        His brother-in-law had received assignments from the judges at the El Monte Courthouse and told Recendez he should go there and see whether he could get a 987 appointment to represent criminal defendants.
        Recendez met briefly with the judge in his chambers, but the meeting wasn't very encouraging, he said. So he went out and sat in the spectator section.
        To his surprise, the judge called his name and pointed to him.
        "'Yeah, you,'" Recendez recalled the judge saying. "So I go up there. 'I'm going to appoint you to this case. Go out and talk to somebody and see what you have to do on this case.'"
        His brother-in-law coached him on that case and a few others that came along. Within a year, Recendez had 250 cases under his belt.
        "I figured I won about 45 percent of my cases," he said.
        Recendez shared an office with his brother-in-law for 10 years.
        For the last four of those years, Recendez worked as an as-needed referee for the court and had assignments all over the county.
        "I used to have the old saying, 'Have gavel, will travel,'" he said.
        In January 1995, Recendez became a commissioner. He worked at the children's court in Monterey Park for three years and for four years at the Los Padrinos juvenile court.
        He worked for a year at the Santa Anita Courthouse in Monrovia before the court administrators shut it down and sent Recendez to his present assignment in Pasadena.
        Recendez says he loves his job, his assignment and the Pasadena Courthouse, but he doesn't believe he is able to do much to improve anyone's life.
        "Am I here to change their life? No, I'm not," he said. "No way am I going to do that. A lot of people say the justice system is going to change you. I don't see it."
        He cites the third-strike law as evidence.
        "The people always come back," Recendez said. "They walk out of here, and they're upset, but they're going to go out and break the law, you know that."
        He still says his current assignment is the best job he's ever had.
        "There's a big list of people out there waiting for us to die or get fired or retire so they can take our job," he said.
        Recendez isn't waiting for retirement to enjoy life. Ten years ago, he took motorcycle lessons and bought a used Yamaha 500. He meets his biker friends for breakfast every Saturday.
        And he's been a private pilot for 40 years. Last year, he shattered most anyone's image of a 73-year-old by taking lessons in aerobatics, where he learned to do spins, loops and lazy eights.
        "That was a lot of fun," Recendez said. "After about 10 hours, I said, 'That's enough.' I just wanted to learn how to do it."
        Despite his youthful activities, Recendez says he's basically a shy guy who enjoys spending time with his wife, Rita Recendez; sons, David and Paul Recendez; daughters, Genet Hechinova and Andrea Carbone; and five grandchildren. They all live nearby, he says.
        He enjoys going to work every day - he sets the cruise control at 30 miles an hour; he doesn't want a speeding ticket - and "lightening it up a little."
        "I joke around with the people," Recendez said. "Groucho Marx used to say, 'The customer's never satisfied, but they always come back.'
        "It's true here. You just keep seeing the same people over and over."
        About the only change Recendez sees coming up is something he says he's going to give up: his All Natural "Natives" cigarettes. It seems he can no longer buy them over the Internet from the Native Americans who sell them, so he'll quit altogether.
        Besides, he says, he's not able to taste his food like he did before.
        "I have a carton and a half left," he said. "I used to buy 10 cartons at a time, and they'd last me about four months."
        Many of the lawyers are going to be happy with his decision; they'll be able to breathe easier. Now, when they ask to meet with him in chambers, he often leads them to the back door.
        "No, let's go outside and talk so I can have a smoke," he tells them.