The Steady Hand: Bruce Moe bids farewell after 35 years in Manhattan Beach City government

The accidental city manager

Bruce Moe took the long road to a life in public service 

 

by Mark McDermott 

Early in 2018, the Manhattan Beach City Council made a decision that, by necessity, was shrouded in mystery. 

In closed session, the council unanimously voted to part ways with the city manager, Mark Danaj, without a stated cause, despite the fact that he would still be owed his salary for another year. Because it was a personnel matter, the reasons for the decision were confidential. Those reasons became more apparent a few years later when the former city manager ended up in jail for felony fraud after misusing the funds in another California town. 

What came next in Manhattan Beach looks oddly inevitable, but only in retrospect. 

Bruce Moe, the City’s longtime finance director, was serving as interim city manager while the council considered a search for a new city manager. One day councilpersons Richard Montgomery and Steve Napolitano, invited him to lunch. He was shocked during the meal when they asked if he would remove the word “interim” from his title and become city manager. 

As Napolitano said at the time, the council had considered a nationwide search, perhaps to bring in a young, tech-savvy manager or any number of experienced old hands “who hop from city to city.” He argued they already had the leader they needed. 

“Why would we ignore this gem right under our noses?” Napolitano said. 

Moe was already part of the fabric of the city at that point. He was a 29-year veteran of City Hall who was held in particularly high regard for the instrumental role he played in helping the City achieve a AAA bond rating, the gold standard for municipal finance, and a key factor that enabled the construction of a new public safety headquarters in 2003 and most of the major infrastructure since. 

But Moe didn’t seem to be the type to become a city manager. He wasn’t the climbing type, but more the “I am just grateful to be here” kind of employee. He served as interim finance director in 1998 despite having neither a municipal finance background — he’d studied marketing and business administration at Cal State LA — but proved so effective that the interim tag was removed. In the decades that followed, everyone was happy with Moe as finance director, and that seemed like where he would always be. Yet when he took over as city manager, it felt from the beginning like Moe had been preparing for the job all his life. This council’s marching orders were, “It’s time to get things done.” 

And that is what happened. From large projects, such as the building of a new Fire Station #2, which had long been needed, to the less heralded, such as street paving throughout the city, things got done. When the pandemic hit and how to run a city had to be reinvented on the fly, Moe, with his steady demeanor and intricate knowledge of the city and its employees, became one of its unsung heroes, working endless hours to keep his 350 employees connected and somehow helping the City to emerge on the other side of the crisis in strong enough financial health to hire seven new police officers. 

Moe’s final day as city manager was August 18. Nearly everything the council had hoped for when they appointed him had been accomplished. 

Napolitano, who has served on the council nearly 20 years in two different stints and as mayor a record six times, singled out the hiring of Moe as city manager as the highlight of his time as a city leader. 

“After a few terms on council, I’ve made hundreds if not thousands of decisions, some of them big, some small. But the best decision that I’ve made in my time up here on Council is appointing Bruce, with my colleagues, as city manager of the city of Manhattan Beach,” Napolitano said at a ceremony in July recognizing Moe. “His dedication, his calm under fire, and his belief in local government and what it can do for people, the difference it can make in their lives — he has shown all of this every day that he has shown up for work in our city and our community. And we are the better for it.” 

At his retirement ceremony, dignitaries from state, regional, and neighboring municipalities testified to Moe’s quiet sway and large influence as a leader. Suja Lowenthal, Hermosa Beach’s city manager, said Moe had achieved legendary status within their profession. 

“All of you know him as the city manager who serves this community, but he is the city manager amongst great city managers in our profession,” she said. “It’s quite rare these days to have someone who has served for as long as he has continued to mentor people who are coming up through the ranks, in public service and sometimes out of public service. But he has been a steady force in our profession.” 

Moe, in an interview, expressed gratitude for the council’s trust and for city staff’s dedication. 

“I can’t overstate how important the staff is here in the day to day delivery of the services they provide,” he said. “They’ve all got that spirit of public service. When you come here, if you really want to be successful as a city employee, you’ve got to have that spirit in your heart. There are so many stories over the years of people going above and beyond. They’ve made me proud to be city manager, and made me feel lucky. Because I am big into being grateful for the things that happened to me, and working here at the City has just been phenomenal.” 

 

 

The good soldier 

Moe sometimes thinks back to things his father told him that he mostly ignored at the time but proved to be right. One night at the dinner table in the family’s home in Los Feliz, his dad, who served as a police officer for seven years in Beverly Hills, told him there is no greater honor than being a public servant. 

“I’ve never forgotten that, because it’s true,” Moe said. “It’s satisfying in a way I don’t think I would have gotten in a for-profit business. It’s just a different dynamic and different goals.” 

“At some level, it’s about earning a living, but it goes beyond that — people have a desire to help other people.” 

Moe went the long way around to get to a life in public service. He went to Cal State Los Angeles with the intention of obtaining his general education requirements and then going to the Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara to study photography. But he turned out to be an omnivorous student —  he got interested in psychology and spent a while thinking that would be his major, then criminal justice, then journalism. He took 11 years to get through college, working full time during most of those years, until finally, he settled on marketing and business administration.

“I thought that might be something I’d enjoy,” he said. “I wasn’t the most motivated 25-year-old, but finally I thought, ‘You know, let’s finish this off.”

He spent nine years working as a purchasing agent for a fire equipment company, at one point working in Houston for nine months.

“For a kid who was born and raised in California, that was an eye-opener,” Moe said. “I came to appreciate Southern California a little bit more after spending a summer in Houston.”

In 1989, newly in love with California again and with his father’s earlier advice beginning to make more sense, Moe ran across an advertisement for a job with the City of Manhattan Beach. It was essentially for what he had been doing —  a purchasing agent —  but with the major difference that it was in the public sector.  Moe figured he had nothing to lose by at least looking into it. 

He was surprised when he arrived at the Joslyn Center in Manhattan Beach that 50 other candidates were also there, and they all had to take a written test as part of the application. He was even more surprised when he aced the test, became a finalist, lost out, then got a call saying the other remaining candidate had dropped out. The job was his. His first call was to his dad. 

“I told him, ‘Dad, I am going to work for the City of Manhattan Beach,” Moe recalled. “And his first comment was, ‘Oh, that’s great. You’re going to be in the CalPERS system. And I was going, ‘What’s that?’ Of course, that was my dad, thinking about the financial side of things. And I am sure, at the time, I was going, ‘Whatever.’” 

His first day on the job, his supervisor brought Moe from his new office at the City Yard to City Hall for a brief tour. He was introduced to the city manager. 

“I can remember walking into this office,” Moe said. “I am sitting here, 35 years ago, on May 8, meeting then city manager David Thompson. I don’t think I had a clue that one day it would be me sitting in the chair here.” 

That first day he also met Henry Mitzner, who had worked in the finance department since 1973 and would eventually serve 49 years in City Hall, most significantly as city controller (and, unofficially, as the city’s philosopher and ethicist). They struck up an instant rapport, talking about coding in Basic computer language. 

“Henry and I were like peas in a pod,” Moe said. 

In the years to come, Moe and Mitzner —  along with Steve Charelian, who also began his career in 1989 and would later succeed Moe as finance director —  would serve together as the bedrock of city finance. 

“I became finance director without an accounting or a finance degree,” Moe said. “The city manager at the time, Geoff Dolan, was just looking for someone who could manage the department. And Henry was always the kind of guy who would say, ‘I’m here to help you,’ not the other way around. He would make sure I knew what I needed to know ….Henry’s work ethic was off the charts, because he lived here —  he would do whatever it took, if you were in the middle of an audit, budget, whatever, seven days a week.” 

Mitzner’s influence went beyond the work itself. Mentor is not exactly the right word; municipal philosopher is more to the point. Fellow employees could hear classical music piping out of his office, and Mitzner frequently shared the wisdom of his sports heroes, legendary UCLA basketball coach John Wooden and NFL coach Vince Lombardi. But his own sayings are what his colleagues took most to heart, so oft-repeated as to become axiomatic among his colleagues. 

Mitzner’s first dictum: “The most important thing is the good health of you and your loved ones, your honor, your integrity and your good name.”

Mitzner’s second dictum was specifically about Manhattan Beach:“When it’s bad out there, it’s good here, and when it’s good out there, it’s great here!”

Moe, first as finance director then as city manager, always kept that latter sentiment in mind when preparing budgets. He sometimes quoted Mitzner as he delivered those budgets to the council.

Thirty five years went by fast. When the City Council in July issued a certificate of commendation praising Moe’s accomplishments, at the front of its long list was his role in obtaining a AAA bond rating. Moe, as is his way, deflected the praise. 

“I looked at it, and yes, there are a few things that I remember,” he said. “Going back to finance, and even in this role, as city manager, the financial stability of the City — it’s not that I made that happen, but I was responsible for not blowing it, making sure I didn’t screw it up. We’ve made a number of financial moves over the years, like getting the AA bond rating before we sold some bonds for the police and fire facility. That was a big thing. We’d never gone out to the bond rating agencies to get a rating like that, and AAA is as good as you can get. It was a struggle to get Standard  & Poors, Moody’s, and Fitch, we had all three give us that AAA rating. So fiscal sustainability is certainly something that I am proud of.” 

Moe served as interim city manager twice previously, first when Dolan was dismissed, amid controversy, and then when his replacement, Dave Carmany, was dismissed only a few years later. He wasn’t particularly keen on either experience. By the time the council asked him to become city manager in 2018, however, he was ready.

“I was certainly very humbled,” Moe said. “It wasn’t a career goal of mine. I made a career out of landing in opportunities that just present themselves. It wasn’t something I planned on.” 

Montgomery noted that Moe didn’t ask for much of a pay raise. He took the job because he wanted to serve as best he could, and understood he was the right person at the right time for the job. 

“He’d seen the things that the City had gone through,” Montgomery said. “Morale was the lowest it’s ever been. The previous council closed City Hall on Fridays. The City of Manhattan Beach was in complete disrepair. Steve and I went to the guy we thought would be the best person to repair it.” 

Napolitano, who along with Montgomery had just returned to office the previous year, was dismayed to find a dispirited city staff, a long list of uncompleted projects, and a bloated, administrative-heavy budget with an overreliance on consultants. 

“We went through a period of instability,” Napolitano said. “We went through a couple different city managers, and turnover at the top affects the rest of the troops that work below the city manager. We needed to stabilize. Bruce brought that stability that we so needed, both in getting things done, and in focusing staff again and letting them know he had their back while also holding people accountable along the way.” 

“Bruce was the good soldier. He went through different city managers, different councils, and he was always steady Eddie. He was the one quietly working behind the scenes to make sure that our finances were right, we weren’t spending more than we took in, and that we were able to build up our reserves and have the financial health that we do. And that wasn’t by accident. That was Bruce. He did that as finance director. But then just his own character as a person, his integrity, his honesty, his willingness to jump in with both feet and not just defend the honor of Manhattan Beach, but promote it to anyone who listened —  that’s the guy I wanted.” 

Moe said becoming city manager enabled him to do more of what he liked most about his role as a public servant. He recalled a time during his tenure as finance director when the council created a program in which the City provided low interest loans to residents who could not afford the cost of undergrounding. Moe had been skeptical, thinking, “This is what we have banks for.” But then an older couple showed up at his office to apply. 

“He was a retired school teacher in a wheelchair,” he recalled. “His wife was this lovely, vibrant woman, and they came in to sign these loan documents…And he said to me, “Thank you for this loan. I don’t know what we would have done without it. I don’t know if we could have stayed in our home.” And at that moment I went, ‘This is what it’s about. This is why we’re here. We’re here to make a difference.” 

 

The leader 

Shortly after Moe took the helm, city employees received a memo from him simply titled, “City Manager expectations.” Moe is a deft writer. For years, he wrote poems, usually whimsical, for special events, departures or milestones within City Hall. And in a quiet way, he also served as City philosopher, particularly after Mitzner’s retirement in 2020. 

His set of expectations were thus not just administrative-speak, but thoughtful, and real. 

George Gabriel, a senior analyst at the time who would later become assistant to the city manager, found the list of expectations to be a good guide not just for City Hall but life. 

“Five of them were particularly impactful for me, and he proved it to me on a daily basis,” Gabriel said. “One of them was, ‘Be honest.’ And I have to say that Bruce is probably one of the most honest people I’ve ever met. Two was, ‘Do the right thing.’ And any decision Bruce has made, I know for a fact this has been his guiding light. Integrity means a lot to Bruce …. He was always conscious of what his gut was telling him, and trying to get to that right thing. Three was, ‘Own your errors and learn from them so they don’t happen again.’ And I can say that anytime I’ve been there, I’ve always tried to hearken the courage to tell Bruce, because disappointing him was one of the toughest things to experience. Four, ‘Appreciate your co-workers.’ And five, ‘Have fun. We spend a lot of time here.’ Bruce usually spent at least 12 hours a day at City Hall, on the lesser side, and I know he cherished the relationship he had with everyone at City Hall.” 

Moe was that rare boss who also served as a father figure to many staff members. Gabriel recalled a few years ago, he was looking into buying a Tesla. “He was the one to tell me not to buy a Tesla, because I was getting married, and marriage is expensive,” Gabriel said. “Suffice to say, I didn’t buy the Tesla, and I can confirm that Bruce was right there. Marriage is expensive.” 

Moe’s leadership style was not loud. He did not try to cut a large figure in City Hall. His leadership grew out of the relationships he’d developed with employees over years, sometimes decades. 

“I always tell people, the thing I’ve learned is be hard on the issues but soft on the people,” he said. “Personal relationships go so far. When you’re trying to do what we do here, and trying to get things done, and it’s not that you have to have those [relationships] in place. But certainly, when you can relate to somebody and understand them a little bit more, it builds bridges.” 

This is often easier said than done. Mayor Pro Tem Amy Howorth said bridges can’t be built without mutual trust. 

“It wasn’t just that he cared about the right things,” she said. “He cared about the people. He cared about Manhattan Beach. He was humble. He had high expectations of people, but he had them for himself, as well. He just thought it was normal to care about people.” 

She also noted that Moe possessed an often undervalued leadership skill, which is the ability not only to put the right people in the right places within an organization, but also to be able to step aside and allow them to do their jobs. 

“It’s delegating, it’s mentoring, and it’s setting those clear expectations,” Howorth said.  

Another quality that served Moe well as city manager was his endless curiosity. Moe’s decade-long college career wasn’t due to sloth. It was due to curiosity. Everything was interesting. Howorth calls him “a lifelong learner.” He calls himself a “generalist.” It turns out that all of it — his winding path through school, through professional life, and through the many aspects of city government — was perfect preparation to be a city manager. 

“Sometimes people lose sight of the fact that we are basically a $150 million corporation,” he said. “It is a big leap going from finance director, where you are very focused on finance, to city manager. This is definitely a generalist type of position, which I liked. Because day in, day out, I’m dealing with issues in every department — police issues, fire issues, public works, capital projects, city finances, building, state laws with regard to housing, all these things come across my desk every day. And I can’t be an expert in all those things, but that’s why I have a great team of department heads who are the experts. In some ways, I’m kind of like the air traffic controller, who’s making decisions on where the planes land and which flights take off.” 

Moe recalled that early in 2020 he mused out loud to the HR director that probably at some point in his tenure he’d have to activate the City’s Emergency Command Center. 

“I’m thinking of an earthquake, a tsunami, a plane crash, something like that, that affected the community,” he said. “And then COVID hit. An emergency that went on for two years.” 

Overnight, beginning on March 20, 2021, the functionality of city government had to be almost entirely reconfigured. And as city manager, Moe had to keep a workforce of 350 employees together, even though most were now apart. 

“We met every day for months, Saturdays, Sundays, holidays,” he said. “It was all by Zoom, but it was just constantly checking in. You know, what information do we need to communicate out to the public?  What are we doing for our employees? Which was a big deal, because all of a sudden almost everybody was remote and so we didn’t want to lose that cohesiveness and camaraderie.” 

“Our paramedics are showing up in the ambulance with space age hazmat suits. It was all very scary. We worked with Rotary to set up grocery deliveries for shut-in seniors. I remember talking to the grocery stores, ‘Can we set up hours ahead of time for the seniors to come in?’ It is one of the things I am most proud of, our response, and our staff, what they all did. It was really hard to do, but our staff rose to the occasion.” 

Council met at least three days a week and devised several unusually proactive programs to help residents and businesses, including loan programs, delayed receipt of some taxes, and an improvised outdoor dining program that was so out in front of what the LA County Health Department was allowing that the City declared its downtown public spaces “parkettes” in order to find a way to help restaurants. 

Napolitano said part of Moe’s legacy is how well the City functioned under his leadership during the pandemic but also how economically healthy it emerged afterwards, despite losing millions in revenues. 

“I mean, you’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, and to be able to come out of that economically — we were able to rebound a lot faster than others,” he said. “We found solutions to issues and helped our businesses and did all we could for people along the way. And that all went through Bruce.” 

Montgomery, who was mayor at the time, said it is almost unimaginable how the City could have functioned so well with anybody but Moe leading City Hall. 

“We would never have made it without Bruce at the helm,” he said. “I think we managed to get through COVID as well as we did because of Bruce, having that experience, having someone calm and steady who everyone respected. I am not saying they all agreed with Bruce all the time, but they respected him, and we all got through COVID. And that was the point. He had to make a lot of changes on the fly. Bruce’s calming hand made that easier for everyone.” 

In a way, the pandemic laid bare the core reasons Moe and others like him get into lives of public service — in order to give of themselves, to do whatever small or large thing they may be able to do on any given day to help another person. The pandemic brought this into greater clarity because the decisions and often the work itself were matters of potentially life or death consequence. Throughout his 35 years, aside from the pandemic, Moe famously arrived at City Hall by 7 a.m. sharp, and did so with a ready smile. He arrived grateful, and he left grateful. 

“There’s just some gladness in his heart,” Howorth said. “He’s just a very special human.” 

Moe likes to quote an old Chinese proverb: “The scent of the flower stays with the hand giving it.” 

“I used to have a little thick magnet on my refrigerator that said, ‘When you give comfort, you get comfort,’” he said. “It’s that kind of thing, right? I mean, there is something you get out of it too. That’s not always your primary reason for doing it, but it does feel good.” 

One moment, relatively early in his career, sticks with Moe, and it didn’t even take place in City Hall, or even in the city itself. It was in the early 1990s, 20 miles south of Manhattan Beach, in Lakewood, where he and his wife had just bought their first house. 

“It was 875 square feet, two bedrooms, one bath,” Moe said. “It had a cute little backyard, and I remember sitting out there on the patio on a Saturday, grilling up a couple of burgers, having a beer, and going, ‘Thank you, City of Manhattan Beach.’ At my last job, I couldn’t afford to buy a house. It was a stretch to buy that $184,000 house back in 1990, and took some help from the parents. But I was like, ‘Thank you. Thank you for what you’ve provided me that allows me to have this.’ And I’ve tried to never lose sight of that, because I’m blessed. I feel so fortunate, let alone to spend 35 years somewhere where you really love it, and can have the types of work relationships I’ve had. It has just been phenomenal. I feel blessed.”  ER 

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