Big Bill Goes Over the Hill

William G. (for George) Bonelli is one of the noisiest, most powerful politicians in California. A hawk-beaked, hail-fellow rancher, lawyer and onetime associate professor, "Big Bill''* Bonelli, 58, wears wide-brimmed hats and. when the occasion demands, a Phi Beta Kappa key (won at the University of Southern California). He is also the boss of one of the most potent political agencies in the U.S. As chairman of the California State Board of Equalization, Bonelli supervises the tax assessments of big businesses; as the board member for Southern California, he hands out all liquor licenses from Santa Barbara to the Mexican border.

Over the Fence. During most of Bonel-li's 26 years in politics he has had some mighty angels hovering overhead: the enormously wealthy, influential Chandler family of Los Angeles (real estate, publishing, TV). In his political contests, Republican Bonelli usually had the warm backing of the Chandler-owned Los Angeles Times. Last week, in a loud-roaring fight, the Chandler-Bonelli alliance came to an end. Bonelli changed his registration from Republican to Democrat, announced that he was scared: "Political, economic and social enslavement is being accomplished by the aggressive Chandler family through the Republican Party and its kowtowing leadership . . . The picture of this scheming Chandler family ... is frightening."

Reasons for the big split were obscure, and there were a dozen different explanations. According to one rumor, Bonelli had cast covetous eyes on the governorship, but Publisher Norman Chandler, 54-year-old chief of the Chandler clan, thought that was going too far. Whatever the reasons for the falling out, the Chandlers drew first blood last October (TIME, Oct. 19) with a series of articles in their tabloid, the Los Angeles Mirror-denouncing Bonelli and his "saloon empire." Big Bill's board, charged the Mirror, displayed incredible laxity in freely handing out liquor licenses to racketeers and political cronies for only $525 each, and allowing them to be resold at the going rate of $6,500. Bonelli retaliated with a 15-page demand for retraction, hinted darkly that the Chandlers had tried to get his board to rule favorably on tax matters affecting them. At the same time, the Board of Equalization rejected the Chandlers' appeal of assessments on their national advertising revenue just 13 days after the Mirror series ended.

The charges against Bonelli were nothing new. Almost since the day he entered politics in 1927 as a candidate for the Los Angeles City Council (with the blessing of the Chandlers), Big Bill has been battling accusations of graft. A wealthy man, he has boasted that his $14,000-a-year state salary does not pay his federal income taxes. In 1940 he was tried and acquitted, in a directed verdict, on 23 counts of bribery, bribe solicitation and criminal conspiracy. In 1951 he blustered his way through a stormy session with the Senate's Kefauver crime investigating committee, forced Estes Kefauver into blushing, stuttering apologies for "aspersions" on his character.

Kick the Cow. To the Democrats, Bonelli brings a package of mixed blessings. He has a considerable political following (it has been estimated that he can deliver 50,000 votes), but the Chandler charges may cling to his coattails. In view of Bonelli's record and the Chandlers' power, most California politicians, of whatever affiliation, were understandably mum last week. Big Bill Bonelli was not. "Well, what the hell," he shrugged, "somebody has to have enough guts to kick a few sacred cows around here, or a man won't be able to brush his own teeth without getting the Chandlers' permission."

Urbane Norman Chandler shrugged back: "Mr. Bonelli's sudden about-face reminds me of a quip credited to Voltaire. When informed [that] a man of whom he had spoken highly had referred in slighting terms to him, Voltaire said: 'After all, we could both be wrong.' " In California last week, many voters were wondering whether Chandler and Bonelli could both be right.

An odd fit: Big Bill is 5 ft. 8 1/2 in. tall, weighs about 190 Ibs.

For other news of the Mirror, see PRESS.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.