“I’m in the yes business.”
There are times when the phrase commonly used by a person defines that person. In the case of attorney Ira Salzman, this is certainly the case. Ira was my friend, but more importantly, he was a friend to all LAPD officers. On February 29, 2020, Ira went end of watch. In the 29 years he spent representing officers, thousands of you came to know him. It is appropriate that a little time be set aside to pause in memory of this unique and honorable man.
Unknown to me at the time, Ira and I passed the same bar exam. He was sworn as an attorney a month before me in 1978. Our paths first crossed in the early 1980s when he was a District Attorney and I was a Bunco/Forgery detective. After a few years as a DA, he went into private practice. He did both civil and criminal cases.
In 1992, the League hired him to represent Sergeant Stacey Koon in the Rodney King criminal case in the federal prosecution, where our paths again crossed to become fellow travelers on the road of police officer representation, and where I eventually repeatedly ended up interacting with him and assigning him cases out of the League’s Legal Plan.
The Rodney King prosecutions steeled Ira in his resolve. In an interview with Robert Deitz in the book Willful Injustice, Ira said, “It wasn’t until I became a defense lawyer, particularly representing Stacey Koon, that I acquired a deep understanding of the Bill of Rights. It’s not something intellectual with me now. It’s in my heart, it’s in my gut. I always thought I was a true believer in the Bill of Rights, but now I’m a slavish believer, even a ferocious believer.”
Over the years, that ferocious belief in the Bill of Rights worked to the advantage of hundreds of our officers. The Rodney King prosecution was indeed a trial in more ways than one, and Ira was also involved defending in the civil lawsuit. Ira received death threats, and the Department refused to provide him with any meaningful protection. Undaunted, he labored on.
Officers assigned to the Officer Representation Section in the late 1990s recall memories of Ira generously sharing his advice and expertise with them on their cases (in those days, ORS personnel han- dled Boards of Rights). Additionally, he went out of his way to mentor and even share office space with newer attorneys who were entering the field of defending police officers, such as our own Robert Rico, Randy Quan, David Winslow, Greg Yacoubian and Leslie Wilcox, when they were starting out in their practices. He was always generous with his time, assets and advice.
When the League started the Legal Plan in 2000, Ira quickly became one of the most respected and requested panel attorneys. He would handle interviews at 6 a.m. and go to 10 p.m. while visiting different divisions throughout the city. “Yes” was indeed his business.
One of the things that set Ira apart was the fact that his clients quickly became his friends, especially when he represented them over a period of time. He took an interest in their personal lives and their families. He attended the graduations of their children and even their weddings (once, he even caught the garter). It apparently had no effect, because Ira never married. He was too busy and too independent.
He was old school when it came to technology. He did not use the computer. He had a fantastic memory and remembered everything, which was fortunate because he had no idea how to Google. He carried a pager long after people knew what a pager was. I was so thankful when he finally started carrying a cellphone (because it was easier to launch him onto our latest problem), and eventually he even learned how to send text messages, although he never got to emojis!
Like Columbo, he didn’t see any need for a new car as long as it kept running. Ira drove a 2004 Lexus with 380,000 miles on it. He also watched a TV with tubes and resisted any suggestion to upgrade it to a flat screen. DVD? Didn’t see a need for one. Internet? Nope. He dictated his legal papers to a secretary, as did Winston Churchill. His bookkeeping system was his checkbook.
The League saved thousands of dollars because Ira hated to write memos requesting extra hours for cases as required for payment. Money wasn’t his main interest; he just loved the work. And that is what hastened his death. Work and his philosophy of “I’m in the yes business.”
Ira was stricken with a rare form of cancer. He was hospitalized and beat it. He returned to his work. Then, he had a heart attack. He was hospitalized and he beat it. He returned to his work. Then, the cancer returned, and he was placed on chemotherapy.
I met with him for lunch in an attempt to get him to slow down. I had a list of cases that I was willing to reassign. I left the lunch with the same list. He realized he needed to slow down, but these weren’t clients, these were friends who had requested his help. He would call me if he felt that he was unable to handle them. He continued to handle interviews even while going through chemotherapy. “It’s not too bad,” he said. I realized that he was doing what he loved to do, and he was going to continue doing it as long as there was breath in his body.
Then, he was found unconscious in his home by a friend. Double pneumonia was the diagnosis. He was hospitalized, and this time he didn’t make it out. The yes business had finally ended in the only way that he would allow, death.
Mike Goldberg put his funeral together at Forest Lawn. Many uniforms were there. Internal Affairs also showed up in uniform. Jackie Lacey, who Ira had the greatest respect for, spoke, as did I, Mitzi Grasso, Dave Winslow and Ira’s nephew.
In conformance with Jewish law and procedure, the service was plain and brief. Jonathan Lai, Robert Rico, Richard Schlesinger, Mike Ventura, Dave Winslow and Greg Yacoubian were the pallbearers. They took Ira down to the burial place, and everyone lined up to place a shovelful of dirt into the grave per the custom, to show respect. I put in two. One didn’t seem to be enough for this special man.
Be legally careful out there.
