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Born in Van Nuys in 1949 and raised near Culver City, Powell was drawn to law enforcement at an early age. His family’s restaurant sat near LAPD’s old Wilshire precinct, and he grew up surrounded by police officers who frequented the establishment. That exposure, paired with a police science program at Santa Monica City College, led him to SMPD’s cadet program at age 18. The program was designed to recruit and train potential police officers, and Powell describes its entrance process as demanding: background investigations, psychological inventory tests, oral interviews with commanders, and high expectations for physical fitness and character. “It appeared the department was looking for the cream of the crop of applicants,” he recalled.
As a cadet, Powell worked across the department’s divisions—dispatch, records, jail, and the front desk—at SMPD’s former headquarters at 4th Street and Olympic. His duties included fingerprinting, mug shots, manning the red “emergency phones,” monitoring prisoners, and handling citizen walk-ins at the front counter. He also rotated through shifts—day, swing, and graveyard—learning how the rhythms of the city and its police work shifted by time of day. Pre-shift inspections were conducted with military precision, with pressed uniforms, polished shoes, and proper hats or riot helmets required. Dispatch was particularly formative. Powell recalls working in a radio room outfitted with a newly installed illuminated map of the city, which tracked patrol cars in real time. “It was the forerunner of today’s GPS,” he wrote.
SMPD’s fleet relied heavily on Plymouths and Dodges, with V-8 engines capable of keeping up with muscle cars of the era. Units carried mounted shotguns, though their mere presence often served as deterrent. Officers wore white caps or helmets—standard for any public interaction, from traffic stops to protests. Motorcycle officers, considered among the most vulnerable, were given hazard pay. Three-wheeled motorcycles handled parking enforcement, though a tragic 1969 accident involving Officer William Davidson underscored the risks. Technology was slowly reshaping policing: SMPD operated a teletype machine for statewide bulletins, precursors to fax and digital messaging. The department also invested in Hughes helicopters, outfitted with spotlights and pontoons for water landings, giving Santa Monica one of the earliest police aviation programs in Southern California.
Powell reflects on the societal divides of the era. Anti-war demonstrations and the counterculture brought new tensions, with the term “Pigs” gaining traction as an anti-police slur. Still, he emphasizes that SMPD maintained a culture of professionalism and inclusivity. The department employed Black and Hispanic officers, and he notes he never heard racial slurs used internally. The cadet program also required cadets to maintain peak fitness. Powell often ran six-mile beach routes from city limit to city limit, swam in the Santa Monica College pool, and trained with officers. It was, he noted, a time when smog alerts often canceled school P.E. in Los Angeles, making Santa Monica’s ocean breezes an asset.
His tenure coincided with significant moments in the city’s history. He recalls SMPD’s high-profile role providing security for the Academy Awards at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, a televised event that put the city—and its police—in the national spotlight. He also documents SMPD’s response to two fatal plane crashes off the coast in 1969, where storm conditions brought down jetliners just miles from Santa Monica. Closer to shore, he remembers Pacific Ocean Park (POP), an amusement destination that closed in 1967, requiring heavy police presence in its final days.
Powell’s time in the SMPD jail and detective bureau also left strong impressions. The jail held both short-term arrestees and longer-term “trustees,” often repeat offenders convicted of vagrancy or public drunkenness. Trustees performed tasks from washing patrol cars to preparing meals, sometimes earning early release in exchange. Powell also rotated through the detective bureau, filing reports and observing investigations into crimes ranging from burglaries to homicides. Detectives, he wrote, were viewed as the “apex” of police work—methodical, analytical, and respected.
Throughout his account, Powell contrasts the tools, risks, and culture of 1960s policing with today’s reality. Officers of his time had revolvers, basic radios, and limited protective equipment. They lacked body cameras, ballistic vests, and many specialized units now commonplace. Yet, Powell emphasizes, the risks were real—traffic collisions, pursuits without seatbelts, and vulnerability during foot patrols and protests. Reflecting on modern policing, he noted: “Fighting crime is far different today than 55 years ago when I worked at SMPD. Definitely there are far more sociologist and psychologist functions now apart of patrol and uniform beat policing within cities.”
Now 76, Powell says his motivation for writing the 26-page memoir is to document a part of Santa Monica’s history few others can recall. His essay blends personal memories with historical record, offering both a cadet’s-eye view and a citizen’s perspective of a city—and a police department—at a crossroads. Powell’s reflections are a reminder that policing in Santa Monica has always been shaped by the community it serves and the cultural tides of its time. His memories bridge a half-century of change, providing a living archive of the challenges, routines, and traditions that defined SMPD in an era now part of the city’s history.
