Mayor Richard Riordan can be grumpy. When I did his paperwork, he would often call me as soon as he had gone through his morning paper, and he would cry with rage. No one has ever yelled at me more or angrily than Riordan from 1993 to 2001, often about stories I had nothing to do with. I’d see him a few hours later at a press event or somewhere in town, and he’d greet me cheerfully, as if nothing had happened.

But if Riordan could be defiant, he was effective. He achieved great things in a city that desperately needed help. He took office after the 1992 riots, which had shaken LA’s confidence. The Los Angeles Police Department was a mess, startled first by the violent treatment of Rodney King and then by the lethargic, cowardly response to the riots. The economy was in the tank. A year after Riordan took office, the Northridge earthquake bounced off the rubble.

By the time Riordan left office, the city had improved greatly, not perfect, but well on its feet. Riordan worked with the White House, he and President

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Clinton developed a fondness for each other in rebuilding the city after the earthquake. Although he never said so publicly, Riordan believed the earthquake was good for LA.

And on security, the issue that brought him to office, Riordans record was powerful. He added the police and crime dropped. The year before Riordan took office, 1,092 people were murdered in Los Angeles. In his last year as mayor, 654 Angelenos died of murder. Overall, crime was also down. That’s a lot of lives saved and safer streets.

Riordan’s final gift to the city was his role in launching the effort that rewrote the city charter. Typically for the mayor, this started out of frustration.

A businessman at heart, Riordan couldn’t believe he wasn’t being allowed more authority over city services, and was especially annoyed that he couldn’t run the city attorney’s office. Hey wild

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chiefs of rental and fire departments, and he wanted to be able to choose his own lawyers, but he set in motion events beyond his control. One charter committee became two, the city council was in control. It didn’t exactly turn out how he hoped that Los Angeles mayors still lack control over the city attorney, but the new charter did streamline City Hall and create new neighborhood representation. It wouldn’t have happened without him.

I’ve had many glimpses of Riordans ability, he regularly clocked me at chess, but one stands out. It was during the arduous efforts to bring a football team back to Los Angeles. Two groups of potential owners competed for position, while the NFL played its own games. I asked Riordan if he would be willing to explain, unofficially, the state of the negotiations. Somewhat to my surprise, he agreed.

We sat in his office late one afternoon. He sat back on his couch, nibbled on peanut butter bites, if he remembers correctly, and explained everything: who was talking to whom, who was telling the truth, who was lying, what would happen next. He almost did it in a trance. Everything he predicted came true. It was an example of what one of his smartest advisers described as his ability to see around corners.

And yet he could miss what was right in front of him. He was the guy who brought a burger to a hunger strike (gardeners protested a proposed city ban on gas leaf blowers; I mean, only in LA, really). During a transit strike, he left on a bicycle trip to France. (I reached him on that trip and he was furious. He hated questions and he knew one was coming.) Still, he was something of a Teflon mayor. His blunders could have hurt another politician; they came from Riordan and seemed more charming than evil, more Mr. Magoo than Scrooge.

Another story: Well into his second term, Riordan was at a party in Pasadena, a farewell event for a senior member of his staff. I was there too, and I had brought my son, who was about 2 years old at the time. My boy and I ducked out of the party for a few minutes and went outside.

We came across Riordan all alone on a terrace overlooking a pool and grounds. Riordan loved my son, who was born just before Riordan’s re-election in 1997, and we talked about being a father for a while. Riordan looked out over a dark garden and contemplated the death of his son and one of his daughters. He was tender and vulnerable, so unlike the Mr. Magoo or the dealmaker the public most often saw. I was reminded how his life was so outwardly successful and also laced with sadness, and how he overcame it.

He was a difficult man and we didn’t always get along. But he had a generous heart. He cared deeply about Los Angeles and devoted himself to its betterment. He left it better than he found it.

Jim Newton covered Los Angeles City Hall from 1992 to 2014 as a reporter, columnist, bureau chief, and editor-in-chief of The Times editorial page. He is now an editor of Blueprint magazine at UCLA and a regular contributor to CalMatters.