He Played His Own Tune : City Hall: Independent and cantankerous Councilman Ernani Bernardi retires after 32 years. He hopes to do a video about the big-band era--and says he’s not through with politics.

Ernani Bernardi, the big-band saxophonist turned politician who became the Los Angeles City Council’s longest-serving member, retires today after 32 years in office, ending a career as City Hall’s leading penny pincher and in-house scold.

Elected to eight terms by his San Fernando Valley constituents, the stubbornly independent, 81-year-old councilman was a fierce foe of programs he viewed as being wasteful, illogical or tainted by cronyism. He was often on the losing end of 14-1 roll calls, opposed by all his council colleagues.

At one budget hearing, he grew so irritated that he jammed his voting button on “no” throughout the afternoon. A colleague once presented him with a mock resolution calling him “the council’s official curmudgeon” and “Miser Magazine’s ‘Man of the Year.’ ”

“I differ completely with most of the things that go on here,” Bernardi snapped in an interview at his City Hall office, waving his hands to punctuate his points and wearing a rumpled golf shirt and battered running shoes.

Also departing City Hall today are council members Michael Woo, Joan Milke Flores and Joy Picus. Woo gave up his seat to run unsuccessfully for mayor, and Milke Flores and Picus were both defeated in reelection bids. None served as long as Bernardi.

His cantankerousness is legendary. He cast the sole vote against a lighthearted Christmas Eve resolution to let reindeer-drawn sleighs land on rooftops, complaining that the council should not “play jokes with ordinances.”

Despite his image as a tightfisted naysayer, Bernardi, a Democrat, fought on behalf of senior citizens, renters and the homeless. He also sponsored major political reform laws, including one that forced City Hall lobbyists to disclose their clients and fees.

Bald, bespectacled and resembling an aging elf, the octogenarian legislator--who played alto sax with Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey--also was known for his unpredictability and impish sense of humor.

He once cut off reporters’ questions at a news conference by humming “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” Earlier this year, he jumped into the race for mayor despite his age and lack of substantial campaign funds. (He lost in the April primary.)

Winning office the year that John F. Kennedy was inaugurated, Bernardi began a council career that became the longest in city history. It is a record that is likely to stand for years because of voter-approved term limits. Only two other council members--Marvin Braude and John Ferarro--have enough seniority to someday exceed him.

He spent his last days in office shuttling between City Hall, where he pumped well-wishers’ hands and packed records and mementos, and his Van Nuys home, where his 78-year-old wife, Lucille, is seriously ill with Alzheimer’s disease. His council colleagues honored him Tuesday by naming a $1-million scholarship fund for him at Mission College in Sylmar.

Bernardi said that in retirement, he plans to put together a videotape depicting the lives of some of the Swing Era musicians and arrangers with whom he worked. But he also insisted that he will remain active in politics.

In particular, he wants to continue his long crusade against the Community Redevelopment Agency, whose spending policies he has criticized for years.

“I’m not retiring from the political agenda. That’s for sure,” he said.

On several major issues over the years, Bernardi was the sole no vote on the 15-member council.

He voted “no” on building Metro Rail, “no” on creating the downtown redevelopment district and “no” on declaring Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday a city holiday. (He did not object to honoring the civil rights leader but opposed giving city employees another paid day off.)

Fiercely independent, he was sometimes called “the conscience of the council.” But with his frequent scoldings of fellow council members and refusal to cut deals, he was seldom a City Hall power.

“It’s rare that he persuades a lot of people on the council,” Councilwoman Ruth Galanter said. “There are instances where he doesn’t persuade anybody. But that doesn’t stop him.”

With his penchant for questioning almost any outlay of tax money, he has been accused of knee-jerk opposition to government and political mean-spiritedness. Former council member Dave Cunningham attacked him for adhering to “a philosophy of misery.”

But Bernardi--who once opened the kitchen at City Hall to personally cook beans for the homeless--denied that he was a narrow-minded foe of all social programs.

He cited a 1974 bill he wrote that required builders to set aside 15% of new housing units for low- and middle-income people. At his insistence, he said, the Community Redevelopment Authority in 1985 set up a $1.4-million trust fund to pay for 420 beds for homeless people in downtown shelters.

“I’m not anti-government,” he said. “I just want government to function more efficiently and take care of the needs of people who really need taking care of.”

Although he frequently stood apart from his colleagues, Bernardi won over enough of them to produce several major victories.

He wrote the 1985 law that limits campaign donations in city elections, and he sponsored the ordinance that requires City Hall lobbyists to disclose their activities--the first of its kind in a big city.

With Councilman Joel Wachs, he championed the city’s rent control law. And he successfully sued the CRA to place a $750-million cap on its spending for downtown renewal.

He also led successful campaigns for charter amendments that limited police officers’ and firefighters’ pensions. He sponsored a 1983 initiative that overturned a requirement that the city pay its employees wages comparable to workers in private industry engaged in similar jobs.

Regardless of other politicians’ criticisms, Bernardi’s constituents in blue-collar and middle-class neighborhoods in the central and northeastern Valley thrilled to his attacks on government overspending and waste. His backers often included Valley admirers of the late tax-slasher Howard Jarvis.

Even fellow council members who labeled him an obstructionist agreed that he performed a valuable watchdog function.

“Any time some potential waste is brought up, he’ll make it so public that either the sponsor will back down or the public will put up a hue and cry,” said the late Councilman Howard Finn in a 1985 interview. “That’s where he is extremely effective.”

A product of the Great Depression, Bernardi was as frugal and unpretentious in his personal life as he was on the council. He and his wife lived in a series of modest Van Nuys homes, and he often brought his lunch from home to City Hall in a paper bag.

The son of Italian immigrants, Bernardi was born in 1911 in the small northern Illinois farming and coal-mining town of Standard. His mother died in childbirth and he was raised by his father, a music teacher, and other relatives.

He dropped out of the University of Detroit because of the Depression but soon found work as a saxophone player.

Performing under the name of Noni Bernardi, he played in the 1930s with such popular big-band leaders as Goodman, Tommy Dorsey and Bob Crosby. He wrote arrangements for Goodman’s “And the Angels Sing” and Dorsey’s “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You.” In 1933, he met Lucille, his future wife, at a Detroit ballroom.

He came to California in 1939 with Kay Kyser’s “Kollege of Musical Knowledge,” a group that featured music and gags. He and his wife moved to Van Nuys in 1942, and within a few years he gave up the big bands for a new career as a home builder.

The Bernardis had two daughters and two sons.

A longstanding interest in politics prompted him to run for City Council in 1957, but he lost to the incumbent, James Corman. When Corman was elected to Congress four years later, Bernardi captured the 7th Council District seat.

An observer once remarked that Bernardi “never turned pro as a politician.” His campaign for mayor underscored that iconoclastic style: He refused to hire a professional campaign strategist or wear makeup for TV appearances.

Asked by a reporter about his campaign budget, Bernardi reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of stamps. They would be used, he said, to mail out copies of his campaign prospectus--a four-page, typewritten statement.

In recent years, a hearing impairment forced Bernardi to wear headphones, and some observers said he was slowing down. But others said that when an issue piqued his interest, the old fire returned.

“You’re not going to find people like him around anymore,” Galanter said. “He’s such a character, and he’s gotten that way over the years. People like that can’t get elected anymore.”