Zuma Dogg Wags Tale in Council's Face

Suddenly, they stopped.

The often distracted, sometimes disaffected and occasionally downright rude members of the Los Angeles City Council swung in their chairs until all eyes were on the man strutting to the lectern.

"Our next speaker is Zuma Dogg," council President Eric Garcetti said.

Standing before them was a man in his mid-30s, wearing a black wool cap and dark sunglasses. He immediately burst into a manic tirade punctuated by hip-hop slang:

"We don't need no legislation.

"We don't need no beach patrol.

"No politicians on the boardwalk.

"Council, leave our beach alone! Hootie-hoo!"

Only in L.A., Garcetti said, do City Council meetings draw characters who look fresh from the bar scene in the movie "Star Wars."

But he said Zuma Dogg has distinguished himself as a "mix of curiosity and crusader" fighting for what he considers his free-speech rights.

"He's been able to do it with humor and at times be more direct and substantive," Garcetti said. "At other times, he's putting on a good show."

Zuma Dogg's real name is Dave Elliott, and he says the issue is one that threatens his livelihood as a performance artist: For more than a month, he has regularly appeared before the council to protest a recently imposed ban on street vending along the Venice boardwalk.

For the few minutes allotted to impromptu speakers at council meetings, Elliott sings, dances, raps and reads legalese proclaiming his right to keep performing for donations and selling "Zuma Dogg" T-shirts, jewelry and incense along one of the region's most popular tourist paths.

"I hope they're getting a better democracy in Iraq than Zuma Dogg is getting from the L.A. City Council, y'all," Elliott told them recently.

"The police are out of order.... That's called terrorism and harassment, y'all, and I'm suffering all kinds of emotional problems from it, y'all."

While council members typically react to Elliott with smiles or furrowed brows, they do watch: A couple of years back they were scolded by judges for not paying attention when the lawyer for a strip club appealed a zoning decision.

"He wakes us up; it gets everyone's attention," Councilwoman Wendy Greuel said of Elliott.

"He cannot sing, rap or dance a lick," Councilman Herb Wesson said, laughing. Wesson describes the council's reaction to Elliott as something between stunned and amazed. "I've never seen anything like it," he said.