Even cadet class President Jonathan Beal picked up the theme. "I want to live for more than a paycheck," he said. "I want my life to mean something beyond the mundane."
"That's part of the police book," Paysinger later joked. "You're supposed to say 'I want to help the public.' But -- maybe more than ever before -- these young people really believe it."
The attitude is both a result and a reflection of the department's evolution. And change, Pacheco and Paysinger told me, has been both top down and bottom up.
Chief William J. Bratton has embraced the concept of community policing, and surrounded himself with like-minded brass. Mid-level cops who didn't toe the line began being squeezed out by officers rising through the ranks with reform on their minds. Or, as Paysinger put it, "the Neanderthal, knuckle-draggers are going the way of the dodos in this department."
But the department still has work to do, mending fences in some neighborhoods. I could hear the residue of old attitudes in the banter of Friday's celebrations. A young white graduate was collecting congrats from a cadre of his former Marine buddies. One -- a black guy in a suit and glitzy sunglasses -- leaned in for a hug. "I'm proud of you man," he said. "But I'm not gonna be seen with you!"
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It's clear the department is on the right track, if officers understand that "good police work is about understanding the human factor," Paysinger said.
That means it's OK if a recruit comes from a family that's poor, where mom was on welfare or junior was in jail. Or a neighborhood where the schools are no good and you have to work hard to stay out of a gang.
That's why cadet Jesse Browne's family celebrated with such whoops and leaps when his name was called Friday morning. He grew up in the apartment complex known as the Jungle, a dangerous enclave in the Crenshaw area notorious for violence and drug dealing.
His older sister told me she's proud that he made it onto the force, but not because of the gun or the badge or the uniform. "Because he worked so hard to stay out of trouble. For 28 years." And now he can help other kids steer clear.
And it's why LAPD Capt. Michelle Veenstra looked out over the crowd as the graduation ended and announced to the brothers and sisters and cousins and friends of the department's newly minted officers, "If any of you want to be a Los Angeles police officer, please stop on your way out at the recruitment table."
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sandy.banks@latimes.com
