Trying to Put Some Law ‘n Order Into Their Lives : Ex-Clerks, Nurses, Guards Join ‘to Bust Criminals’ but Leave With Better Understanding of the System

Jeff Loving served up Slurpees as a clerk at a 7-Eleven store. Vic Gerardi worked as a security guard at a psychiatric clinic. Teri Hartley drove a bus. Tom Bedsworth was a gardener.

Looking for a bit more excitement and better pay, they applied for jobs in law enforcement. They are among the 73 men and women who passed exhaustive pre-employment screening tests and enrolled in the 74th San Diego County Sheriff’s Academy in January.

Today, Loving, Gerardi, Hartley and Bedsworth earn $9.50 per hour as deputies watching over inmates inside county jail facilities.

The cadets who made it through the 74th Academy are a sampling of the people who each day carry deadly weapons, nab felons, investigate murders, issue traffic citations and break up family fights. After serving a minimum of two years as jail guards, they will be assigned to patrol cars and respond to a variety of crimes in neighborhoods throughout San Diego County.

The trainees are young (two-thirds of those who enrolled in the 74th Academy were in their 20s); lack a higher education (only 10 of 73 have bachelor’s degrees); have little or no prior law enforcement experience; and enjoy “Dirty Harry” and “Rambo” movies. Some still live at home with their parents. Thirteen cadets were minorities and seven were women.

They represent a variety of professions. Among the cadets were a secretary, cement finisher, cable installer, nurse, waitress, bricklayer, stewardess, tow-truck driver, a minor league baseball pitcher and an FBI agent (who balked at being transferred out of San Diego). Ranging in age from 20 to 52, they enjoy such hobbies as playing the harp, scuba diving, war games, drag racing, rock climbing and surfing.

Lt. Dennis Kollar, director of the Sheriff’s Academy, said today’s recruits are attracted by the money--nearly $20,000 a year to start--and the excitement of police work.

“I came here with the idea I’m going to go out busting criminals,” Loving said.

Cadet Robert Conover, 28, said he was looking forward to working in “burglary and bunko,” a job description academy instructors said they hadn’t heard since Jack Webb starred in “Dragnet.”

As recently as a decade ago, Kollar said, most people who applied for the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department were interested in protecting citizens, helping crime victims and chasing crooks. Like Sheriff John Duffy, many were military veterans. Applicants often took a pay cut for the opportunity to join the law enforcement fraternity.

“The motivation used to be fairly idealistic,” said Kollar. “It did not revolve around financial compensation or job security. More often than not it was because (they) wanted to provide a service to the community.”

Dr. Russell Gold, one of three psychologists who screen applicants, said, “The youngest ones don’t have a full sense of what the job entails. They have never experienced boredom on any job. They see the excitement. They have a lot to learn.”

Kollar refers to these young cadets as “kids pumping gas at Gemco.” He said, “For many of them, it’s a rude awakening . . . when they get here.”

Some cadets failed to make the grade.

David Boson, 22, earned $4 per hour moving furniture on a part-time basis before he was hired by the Sheriff’s Department. Boson said he took the department’s entry test three times before passing. He tried repeatedly because he wanted a career that offered job security.

“I never heard of a police officer getting laid off,” Boson said.

Boson had fired a gun only once before he enrolled in the 74th Academy. He was so jittery during the first class in firearms training that he was unable to hold the revolver steady enough to hit a large target.

“He’s extremely timid,” said Deputy Don Nix, the range master who taught firearms training. “I had to back off. I jumped all over him . . . he was so nervous he was shaking.”

Boson was dismissed during the final month of the academy when he scored 100 points out of a possible 150 on his final firearms test--five points short of the passing grade.

“It’s heartbreakin’, man,” said Boson, his eyes welling up with tears as he congratulated his former classmates on graduation day. “I wanted to be here. I know I got what it takes. If they told me I had a place in the next academy, I’d be here . . . If all else fails, I’ll beg another agency to take me.”

Boson was one of 10 trainees who were dismissed or failed to graduate from the 74th Academy for a variety of reasons, including a lack of commitment, poor reading or writing skills, cheating on an exam and falsifying employment forms.

An 11th cadet, Kelly Bazer, was shot to death by a robber during the second week of the academy.

One cadet is hired for every 20 Sheriff’s Department applicants, according to recent county employment statistics. About 1,500 people took a three-hour written entrance examination for the 74th Academy.

The Sheriff’s Department receives more applications for deputy positions today than in the past, in part because for many years “law enforcement was not a favored thing to do,” said Roger Ingraham, a county personnel analyst.

Local law enforcement organizations are feeling pressure from out-of-town agencies such as the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, which last month sent a recruiting team to San Diego to enlist 1,500 applicants. The starting annual salary for deputies in Los Angeles is $25,968, compared to $19,912 in San Diego.

On May 8, the 74th Academy graduated 44 deputy sheriffs, six police officers for El Cajon, one district attorney investigator and one deputy marshal. Ten other cadets who enrolled in the academy on their own and paid $1,500 for equipment, fees and supplies also completed the academy. Those who graduated are now eligible to be hired by the Sheriff’s Department or any other law enforcement agency.

Lt. Bert Moorhead, who is in charge of hiring deputies, described the ideal candidate as being about 30 years old, married with two children and a homeowner, and having a stable employment record and a background that includes the military or some schooling in criminal justice.

Many of the cadets who enrolled in the 74th Academy said they decided against applying to the San Diego Police Department because of its high mortality rate--nine of the city’s police officers have been slain in the past decade compared to one deputy sheriff since the late 1800s.

Tom Bedsworth said he considered applying to the Police Department, but “every time I turned on the TV they were losing somebody. I’m accepting the occupational hazard of getting killed, but I’d rather go with an outfit that hasn’t had somebody killed in 100 years.”

The following are profiles of four trainees who applied to become deputies and successfully made it through the 74th Academy:

Jeff Loving, 21, married, one child. Loving comes from the kind of family background that Moorhead and most other police recruiters covet--his father worked as a police sergeant, his stepfather as a deputy sheriff and his grandfather as a sheriff in Kentucky.

Initially, Loving shied away from law enforcement. He was interested in the less stressful work and $16-an-hour salary of a welder. But when he was unsuccessful at running his own home repair business, Loving looked elsewhere.

Last fall, Loving was two years out of high school, married with a small daughter, living with his parents and working nights at a 7-Eleven in El Cajon when he first considered law enforcement.

“I sat down and thought about it. I hate criminals, I worry about my own family so much and I wanted them to be protected.”

The hazardous nature of police work did not enter his decision. Loving said that convenience store clerks put up with “more crap” than police officers. “I’d rather have a gun on me.”

Moreover, Loving was excited by the opportunity to earn a substantial wage playing cops and robbers. But he learned there was much more to police work than “busting heads” after his academy class visited the coroner’s office.

“I never thought what it would be like to pick up dead bodies.”

Loving also became disillusioned with other mundane areas of academy training such as running long distances and writing long reports.

A “junk food junkie,” Loving was not about to let his nutrition-conscious training officers prevent him from enjoying his favorite snacks--candy bars and ice cream. He had eaten them for years without gaining weight and was not about to stop now.

He also struggled with the thought of working several years in the jail before getting assigned to his own patrol car.

“I keep telling myself I need to learn more about criminals. But in the back of my head I want to get out there on the streets.”

Vic Gerardi, 52, married, six children. Gerardi had tried just about everything in life except law enforcement. He earned a bachelor’s degree in political science, a master’s degree in health science, spent four years in Bible school, devoted seven years studying the martial arts, spent six years in the military reserve and ran his own health food store and gymnasium.

Gerardi was working as a security officer at Kaiser Permanente clinic when he spotted a job posting for deputy sheriff on the company bulletin board. The first thing he looked for was an age limit. Until the early 1970s, the Sheriff’s Department did not hire anyone over 35. With no such restriction today, Gerardi was the oldest sheriff’s cadet in recent memory.

A devout Christian, Gerardi said he felt God wanted him to apply to become a deputy sheriff. His wife and six children, ages 13 to 30, weren’t so sure.

When Gerardi broke the news to them, “They looked at each other. They didn’t say much. They just shook their heads . . . Nothing surprises them anymore.”

Gerardi feels a tremendous advantage as a Christian joining law enforcement. “A police officer is really doing God’s will.”

During the hiring process, sheriff’s recruiters asked Gerardi if his beliefs would prevent him from killing someone.

“The job is to combat evil,” Gerardi said. “If another officer is in danger, I don’t have a fear of (taking a life). That’s my job.”

Gerardi prepared for the academy by losing 35 pounds in six months and running six-minute miles. He spent virtually all of his free time during the academy studying for tests.

“I see this as a second chance in life.”

On the first day of the academy, Gerardi bumped into Grant Flores, 23, who attended high school with one of Gerardi’s sons. The two were nearly inseparable throughout the academy as they studied, exercised, socialized and ate lunch together.

“He thought I was here to teach the academy. I had to tell him, ‘No, I’m going through just like you.’ ”

Teri Hartley, 28, divorced, no children. Since she married right out of high school, Hartley drove a bus for several companies while following her husband from one job to the next. The work was boring, provided little pay and offered no benefits. Hartley looked at the older women who worked alongside her and decided to get out.

“I couldn’t tolerate the thought of driving a bus when I was 60.”

Hartley was first introduced to law enforcement after her divorce when her boyfriend, also a bus driver, applied to the San Diego Police Department.

“I’ve always wanted to be a cop since I was a kid,” said Boe Telnes, who became engaged to Hartley last month. “I enjoy the regimentation. I did 10 years in the Navy.”

But Telnes was not hired by the Police Department and now works as a truck driver.

Hartley, in search of some kind of career, decided to apply to the California Highway Patrol “on the spur of the moment.” When she failed the CHP vision test, she called the Sheriff’s Department.

Hartley said she applied on the off chance that she might get lucky. At each stage of the hiring process, she felt certain that she would be eliminated. But the daughter of a Navy veteran hung on and was hired two weeks before the start of the academy.

Hartley said Telnes has been very supportive even though he still yearns to become a police officer.

Hartley never held any real interest in police work, guns or physical conditioning. Before entering the academy, she was concerned about learning to defend herself during a physical confrontation.

“I don’t like to fight. But if I have to fight, by God I want to know how to do it. I don’t want to be the one they cart off to the hospital. If I don’t win, I want the person to realize that they were in a fight.”

Tom Bedsworth, 34, married, three children. The last time Bedsworth ran a lap around a track was 15 years ago in high school. He earned an associate arts degree in theater, starred in a college musical production of “Hair” and was a long-haired drummer in a local rock band.

Hardly the classic background from which deputy sheriffs are molded.

After four years running his own medical supply firm, Bedsworth grew tired of the business and took off for the Caribbean. When he returned, he tried his hand as a gardener.

“I was fascinated by the idea of when it rained you didn’t go to work.”

But he became bored trimming shrubs and thought about a civil service job with a 20-year retirement plan. He considered becoming a firefighter until he realized the dangers.

“I’ve devoted my life to prolonging it. When I saw trouble, I turned left.”

Bedsworth felt he had practically no chance of getting hired by the Sheriff’s Department because he lacked “command presence,” the buzzword in law enforcement for a take-charge personality. When a recruiter asked how he would respond to a group of gang members approaching his patrol car, Bedsworth said he would put the vehicle in reverse.

Having never been exposed to the military or law enforcement, Bedsworth had no idea what to expect from the academy. He said his closest experience came from viewing the film “An Officer and a Gentleman.”

When he looked around the room on orientation day and saw youth and innocence in the faces of his fellow cadets, Bedsworth figured the academy would be a breeze.

But he found himself to be “incredibly average.” The first time he drew his weapon during firearms training, he worried that he would shoot himself in the foot. On the first physical training session, his chest hurt so bad after running three miles that he thought he was having a heart attack.

“To have more fun than this you have to go over to Camp Pendleton. They don’t let you go home at night.”