No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP (22 page)

My brief period as a researcher acquainted me with the many facets of headquarters in Ottawa and gave me a much broader understanding of how all the pieces might fit into this amazing bureaucratic puzzle. Shortly after my arrival in the capital, I became interested in the Canadian Police College. The college was expanding into a modern, comprehensive campus and was the model for management and communications training for police forces across Canada. Many of my former Depot co-workers taught at the college, and when I was approached to join I transferred from research back into the training business. It was the beginning of the most exciting phase of my training career. Upon entering the CPC as a staff member, my experience as an instructor in Depot qualified me to join the communications staff, teaching potential instructors who were preparing for rotation into Depot. Then, because I had completed several university courses, I was quickly absorbed into the management training unit. Back when I was an instructor in Depot, the elite aces from the management training unit of CPC Ottawa had visited Regina to conduct management courses for municipal police departments. I had been awestruck by their skill and panache, never presuming that one day I would be one of them.

Already intimidated at the prospect of lecturing senior NCOs from police forces across the dominion, I was assigned to teach complex management topics. I had to learn while I earned; minimal time was set aside for indoctrination and preparation, and I had to adapt quickly or suffer the consequences. A novice lecturer like me could easily become isolated if I disputed a point with a single candidate and the other class members took his side. If challenged, I found it useful to solicit input from the group and hope that members of the class would support my position.

I also quickly realized that it was unwise to preach to this experienced cadre of policemen. I had to assure candidates at the outset that I was acting solely as a catalyst in the pursuit of greater knowledge. These experienced police officers did not suffer fools gladly and were liable to lock an instructor out of his own lecture room if they didn’t agree with his position or teaching methods. Those of us who were fortunate enough to lead executive development courses involving senior police administrators learned much from the accumulated management experience in the room.

While I was leading a session during a senior police administration course, I shared a strange but poignant moment with one of the candidates. During a break, a candidate named Jack approached me and enquired whether I was the Ian Parsons whose father, Joseph, had also served with the Force. When I said yes, he became emotional, explaining that I had been named after his father, whom he never knew. The story had its roots during the oppressive period in RCMP history when members were forbidden to marry unless they had seven years’ service. Many who served during that era were either unable or unwilling to wait and married secretly. After serving for the required time, they anxiously requested approval to marry. Members went to great lengths to conceal their marital status, and often their wives—and sometimes children—resided with parents.

Jack related that his father’s first posting had been with my father in Kamsack, Saskatchewan. His father had met the love of his life, and when he moved on to another location they secretly married. Their clandestine life continued pending completion of the seven-year waiting period, but his official marriage application was never to be. While he was assigned mounted duties for a Victoria Day parade, he suffered a massive heart attack, fell off his horse and died in the street. He passed away not realizing his secret wife was pregnant. She remarried, but she insisted that Jack carry the surname of the father he never knew. I was moved by the story and the sequence of events that led to our serendipitous meeting in a CPC classroom.

Soon after, I asked my parents about this other Ian they had known so many years ago. They confirmed the story and were astounded to learn that Ian’s son not only carried his father’s surname but had also followed his footsteps into the RCMP. My parents had lost track of Ian’s wife and had been unaware that he had fathered a child. They told me that young Ian had been an exceptional young policeman with great potential. They were as close as three people could be in a small two-person detachment, often sharing meals, good times and bad. My parents recall being completely devastated by Ian’s passing, as he was only 30 years old. Jack returned to his post after completing his studies at the Canadian Police College and served out his time, reaching the rank of staff sergeant, only to die of a heart attack shortly after his retirement. It seemed genetics had visited a similar fate upon the next generation.

Faculty members at CPC were required to travel from time to time to various areas of Canada, where we delivered abbreviated versions of management and instructional topics to police forces on their home turf. While difficult to quantify, it is certain that CPC helped to transform police departments in Canada from autocratic to more participative environments. Thousands of senior police managers were exposed to contemporary management theories and techniques during the 1970s. Time constraints often only allowed us to skim the surface of sophisticated concepts, but the subject material piqued the interest of many and led them to pursue further education. I met candidates at all levels with integrity and devotion to their respective departments, and some became lifelong friends. I found that the professional lecturers selected from all disciplines and walks of life were invaluable in dealing with topics such as human behaviour theory, management dynamics, police–media relations and cross-cultural education. My position as a management resource person at CPC enabled me to pursue these disciplines to an extent almost equivalent to a university degree in human management.

As is so often the case in life, the day-to-day functioning of the college was fraught with irony. Widely known throughout the Canadian police universe, CPC was regarded as the veritable Mecca of contemporary police management theory, yet the college’s treatment of its staff did not always reflect participative management. Whereas Inspector George Carter, our immediate superior, was an eloquent, university-educated man and in many ways an inspiring leader, his superior, the assistant director, as well as the college’s director, leaned toward the traditional autocratic RCMP leadership style. Inspector Carter was frequently caught between his subordinates and superiors. By the very nature of the curriculum, freedom of thought and innovative approaches had to be encouraged. The dichotomy existed in the rather despotic management environment established by college leaders. Our incoming director had assured his new faculty that the potential for career advancement at the college would be limitless, and he foresaw many of us attaining commissioned rank. But after several years, not one senior NCO instructor had been invited to compete in the officer candidate program.

The faculty at CPC was exclusively RCMP. In order to have the college appear non-partisan, instructors were encouraged to wear civilian clothing while working. In spite of this being an implied requirement, no clothing allowance was granted, even though such allowances were routinely paid to other RCMP members when civilian clothing was deemed an operational necessity. These factors, along with other minor irritations, came to the fore during a staff meeting with our inspector. As the meeting wore on, participants became vocal as their frustrations began to surface. Inspector Carter, obviously feeling the pinch in his position as intermediary, finally retorted, “I might teach this management shit, but I don’t have to practise it!” The comment was meant humorously, but he would live with it for the rest of his days as our manager.

The assistant director was a large, bombastic superintendent who was given to bullying. In spite of this, Inspector Carter had the temerity to confront him with our concerns and made some headway. We were fortunate in having Dr. William Kelloway, a renowned and respected psychologist, seconded to the college. In his civilian capacity, he could speak to upper management with candour. His observations about the sometimes toxic management environment at the college had considerable impact on our leaders. They responded to Kelloway’s suggestions, changing their approach and improving communication.

While teaching at CPC, I had the good fortune to participate in an instructor exchange program between the college and the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. CPC instructors presented their routine sessions at Quantico for a two-week period, and were replaced by an FBI lecturer at CPC. Personnel at the FBI Academy were extremely receptive and went out of their way to make us feel at home. The contrast in educational qualifications between the two agencies spoke volumes. At a minimum, FBI personnel needed a master’s degree, and many of them were working toward their PhDs. In contrast, few RCMP faculty members at CPC had completed a bachelor’s degree. Nevertheless, the FBI personnel were impressed by how well RCMP members presented sophisticated material. The content of subject blocks such as management systems, motivation, perception, counselling and interviewing were almost identical at each training centre. The primary difference was the level of formal education of the presenters. When these disparities were reported to RCMP management, efforts were made to upgrade the faculty’s educational levels to achieve parity with institutes such as the FBI Academy, but even today very few CPC instructors possess advanced degrees.

While I was serving at CPC, the position of chief academic instructor at the RCMP Academy in Regina became available. The job offered a promotion to staff sergeant. I was approaching 20 years’ service in the Force and hoped to be located in the western half of the country when the time came to retire, so I applied for the highly sought-after position, as did many of my peers. My comprehensive background in RCMP training at all levels, together with my field service and recently acquired bachelor’s degree, contributed to my attaining the post.

IN THE SPRING
of 1980, I returned to Regina to take up my new position. The Academy had continued its transition to more sophisticated methodology since my tour of duty as an instructor in the 1970s. The recruit experience of the 1980s was light years ahead of my own experience in 1961. Externally, the trappings and appearances of Depot remained the same. Recruits still moved about in troop formation, marching smartly. Foot drill was still a part of the curriculum, and noon parades were priorities. The fundamental differences were in the classroom and the gym, where the emphasis was on simulation and scenario training and physical conditioning.

In my new position, I supervised over 30 junior NCO instructors working out of five distinct academic units. The instructors’ immediate supervisors were sergeants, who reported to me. It was the most complex management structure I had encountered thus far. The academic section had its own modern building designed for contemporary studies. It was a dynamic, exhilarating environment. The instructors were highly motivated and self-directed, which made my job an easy one. The
esprit de corps
and morale within the section were high, with the possibility of hijinks never far from the surface.