Rob Kerin seems tuned in to the hardships of country policing. And, for officers struggling with staff shortages, poor housing and recall, he sees no relief on the horizon.

Concerned for country cops

To Opposition Leader Rob Kerin, the police might have looked as if they were about to storm his Crystal Brook home. Two of them had pulled up across his driveway in their patrol car, on a spring morning last year.

The former premier had woken to the sound of their blaring police radio, and could see them from his bedroom window.

So, now, he quickly dressed and ventured outside. There, he saw the officers sprint away in opposite directions from one another, and two other police cars parked on street corners.

“What the hell’s going on!” he called to his next-door neighbour, who had also ventured outside.

Kerin discovered that his good mate and neighbour had heard someone run down his (the neighbour’s) driveway, and gone to investigate. He had found no one – until he opened the door to his shed.

Inside, and “coming at him”, was an intruder armed with the neighbour’s own hedge-clippers.

“He said he just turned and bloody took off,” says Kerin. “We worked with the police at that point. There were probably about 12 of them called in from around the place. They must be dragged out of bed at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

But the lengths to which that dozen country cops had to go should never have surprised the member for the northern rural seat of Frome. He has long spoken of how well he understands the pressures of police life, particularly in country South Australia.

His insight has, in part, come from the dynamics of his own local social circle, which includes police and gathers at Christmas and a few other times during each year.

Many times, amid the long-awaited merriment of a Sunday barbecue or evening dinner party, Kerin has heard the dreaded ringing telephone. It has always seemed to signal the imminent departure of either the police officer, or doctor – or both.

“Some of them (police) have been really close mates,” says Kerin, 50. “We’ve finished up pretty close to most of the ones who have been at Crystal Brook. But the way they’re on call all the time, they haven’t got a life.

“And I’ve seen some of the houses they’ve been expected to live in out in the country – themselves and their wives.

“You can’t stereotype them, but I’ve found all the wives who’ve come through (country posts) with my mates have been fantastic women, and part of the team. They answer phones, and really become an unpaid part of it.”

As well as officers’ country housing and on-call responsibilities, the impact of understaffing and inadequate police resources seems a great concern to Kerin. He claims to have seen cops’ frustration boiling over on the issue of unfilled positions.

And some of his Clare constituents, he says, were recently near “breaking point” over a spate of breaks-ins, which Kerin links directly to “the lack of (police) personnel”.

To this former businessman, who aims to regain the state’s top job in the 2006 election, the future of country policing remains shrouded in many unanswered questions. He is yet to be convinced that the 200 extra recruits announced by Premier Mike Rann last November will help country cops.

“(Deputy Premier and Police Minister) Foley, in the Clare Argus,“ says Kerin, “basically said none of them are going to go to the country.”

Kerin might well question Foley’s judgement. But, in the face of strong police cynicism toward all politicians, can he himself truly claim to know anything about what ails working cops?

Perhaps the time – social and official – he spends with rank-and-file officers suggests he can.

Few likely know of his interaction with officers such as Port Pirie senior sergeants Gerry Nicholson and Mick Dillon, and Sgt Terry Boylan.

“Gerry’s a great mate,” he says, “and we sit down for ages just trying to get a point of view on what could be done differently, and what the current problems are.

“Mick and Terry and I sat down at Christmas time and talked about everything from housing and relief to problems with some of the (police) cars. It’s good getting grassroots feedback. It helps you to understand.”

But not all of Kerin’s interaction with cops has come easily. The Police Association’s pay campaign of 1995 left the then Government backbencher with few “fond memories”.

“...we sit down for ages just trying to get a point of view on what could be done differently...”

Like other Liberal country MPs, he had formed strong relationships with local police officers. Ironically, one to whom he had become particularly close at that time was then Police Association delegate, Kym Wilson.

So, in a few formal meetings, the two had to put aside their “good-mates” relationship to face each other as adversaries.

“It was an uneasy time,” says Kerin. “It’s difficult when you’ve got mates, who you’re trying to look in the eye, and you can’t guarantee them they’re going to get what they want.

“I remember we (country MPs) were just wanting to have the thing sorted out.”

But Kerin had already endured a period of unease in his political life. He admits that, after he was elected to office in December 1993, he “just hated” his first 12 months as a politician.

He had loved life as a businessman, running his company, Kerin Agencies, with his brother, and had harboured no interest in a political career.

And, the former Sacred Heart College boy and University of Adelaide economics student, from a humble farming background, had many times rejected party machine overtures to stand. Only his family’s encouragement changed his mind, and convinced him to run for Frome.

On the backbenches in his first year, however, the husband and father of four girls asked himself: “What the hell have I done?” But a promotion to the front bench in December 1995 would change his outlook.

“I was lucky to become a minister,” he says. “I had six years as Minister for Primary Industries, which was right up my alley.”

Kerin took on various portfolios over the ensuing years, rising to the deputy premiership in July 1998. His move into the top job in October 2001, however, came only after former premier, John Olsen, resigned amid the Motorola controversy.

Although Kerin led his party to defeat at the election of March 2002, he held on as Leader of the Opposition. Today, he reflects on his life as blessed with nothing but good fortune.

“I was given opportunities that a kid from Crystal Brook couldn’t even dream of,” he says.

Despite his seemingly singular focus on country police, Kerin speaks of his high regard for all cops, and the roles they perform. He describes police officers as a “special breed”, which the community is “lucky to have”.

And he at least understands that police work comes with far more tedium than glamour.

“The Premier’s job and my job are pretty high-profile,” he explains, “but the police are a little bit like us. Once they get back to the local level, they’ve got the dispute of the neighbour’s barking dog, or the family next door playing the stereo at 4 o’clock in the morning.

“That’s the stuff that dominates their day, and there’s no glamour in any of that for them.”