Category: Authentic Leadership

A princely tale of gratitude

A princely tale of gratitude

When sixty of us 17 and 18 year olds gathered at the Police College in Trentham, Upper Hutt in January 1981 it’s probable that none of us really knew why we were doing it, or where it might take us. We had been selected from a pool of applicants and as the country was in a recession, with unemployment rising it was likely – in hindsight – that there would have been no shortage of applicants. From what I can pick up, some joined because of family connections, some because they saw this as a career for life, and others, well, who knows what 17 year olds are making decisions based on!

Recently, our Covid delayed 40 year reunion took place in Wellington, with 27 of the group, some spouses and one instructor. And we saw videos from four others who couldn’t make it including until recently the coach of an international rugby team.

Through 1981 we were designated temporary constables to help out with policing during the controversial Springbok Tour. 58 Graduated. Four have sadly died. Three of us, including one of my besties still, started our police careers at Dunedin. Six of the 58 are still serving in the police.

With Mum & Dad at the opening of the Police College 42 years ago today.
Mum & Dad with me at the opening of the police college 42 years ago. Mum and Dad are still my best career champions – always there.

During the reunion weekend, we visited the Royal NZ Police College in Porirua where we moved to in March 1981, as the first occupants. Exactly 42 years ago today, on 1 April 1981, the then Prince of Wales, visited us and formally opened the new College. It was an amazing event, and we trained hard to put on a gymnastic display with telegraph poles, got a crash course in marching and drills and I’m sure we made everyone pretty proud from our parents in attendance, the police commissioner Bob Walton through to the then prime minister Robert Muldoon. Prince Charles was our Patron and so we were and still are known as the Prince of Wales 25th Cadet Wing. The Cadet programme only lasted another year, and after that all recruits had to be grown ups of at least 19 years old!

Rainbow Warrior Bombing display at the police college museum Although I’m smiling, I am respectful that Greenpeace photographer Fernando Pereira died in this incident, never forgotten. To my right is the outboard from the Zodiac used by the bombers. I had a photograph with that in the NZ Herald at the time.

It seemed to me at the reunion there might be an inverse relationship between tenure in the police and enthusiasm to relive that special year. For the six cadets still serving as police officers, it was obvious they were proud, but the life was still very much in the present. A great career for each of them I’d say.

For me, having done nine years, there was a certain level of marvel at revisiting the college, and with it all the memories stored away. Some things I don’t remember I ever knew. On the tour the subject of remuneration came up “$8990 was our starting salary” I declared. Turns out that was only if you had UE – otherwise it was a $1000 less! Parts of my career are stored for ever there and I never knew – the display in the Museum of the Rainbow Warrior bombing where I had been brought in to support as 2 i/c Exhibits, the Trades Hall bombing where, with a Detective Sergeant, I had been privileged to conduct the Auckland-based enquiries, and the memorial to Police officers killed on duty including a Sergeant I had known in Dunedin. All sobering and satisfying to reflect on all at the same time.

Sharing a cup of tea in the canteen at the end of the tour I chatted to the latest recruits, to discover that their patron is one of my partners at PwC. Small world. If they represent the police of the future, we are very fortunate. Far more mature, and balanced than I recall we were!

I hope these beautiful people in training that I met from the latest recruit wing don’t mind their photo here. We are in good hands with these fine people in blue.

There’s practical stuff I learned in the police that I use every day in my work still – freeze the scene! – which is more about capturing electronic devices in my work now, but the principles are just the same as for a physical environment, and capturing and recording evidence for use in Court.

But the gift of the training and the time in the police has been holding onto resilience, perspective and calmness under pressure.

I use that every day too. It’s good leadership.

Thanks to the police for quite a lot actually.

Stephen

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Just like riding a ski

Just like riding a ski

I’ve been fortunate enough to see if I could ski again after a bit of chop and change in one of my legs a couple of years ago. No one was more surprised than me when I gave it a go at Coronet Peak a few weeks ago, and I managed a few runs, backed up a fortnight later.

I found myself telling people I could still ski thanks to a special ski week quite some time ago and it got me thinking about that ski week.

Back in the school holidays in the sixth form (year 12 now) I spent a glorious week learning to ski properly at Mt Olympus Ski field near Lake Coleridge, Canterbury with a group of school boys. It now promotes itself as the place to “Ski in the Playground of the Gods“. It was a big week.

We got dropped off at a Canterbury Farm Station somewhere, and me and three other boys were driven up in the couple’s two door Range Rover. I assumed they operated the Station, but at that age, you don’t know much really, and I didn’t ask, or was told. Mind your own business my mother would have said anyway! They were club members I do recall, and I can see that the club is still running the field – the Windwhistle Winter Sports Club – as it has since 1932. I’ve had a thing for skiing and those early Rangies ever since.

Then there was no milk and I started drinking black coffee which tasted quite bitter and was instant – I think that was “normal” then – but I’ve been a black coffee drinker ever since. And on the first day of skiing the instructor told us “leave your poles boys, you’ll be learning to ski properly”. And we did.

So when I thought I’d give skiing a go at Coronet Peak with limitations to my leg I found I could. What came straight back to guide me were the lessons at Mt Olympus, coming sharply back into focus. Shifting the weight from ski to ski to turn. Poles just for balance.

It’s worth learning something properly. It stays.

Stephen

The original Range Rover was introduced by British Leyland under the Rover brand in 1969 and continued in production until 1996, by then under the Land Rover brand. It was a two-door model until 1981. You’ll see restored two door models for sale in NZ for ~$50,000 and a lot more overseas.

Going back in time with a prince

There were sixty of us teenagers, 17-18 years old, apparently selected from a pool of 1000 applicants to be members of what was to be HRH Prince of Wales 25th Cadet Wing of police trainees. I don’t recall in advance knowing that our patron was to be the the Prince of Wales or, as it happens, that this was the penultimate police cadet wing, a programme designed to take school leavers directly into a year of police training. “Last week you couldn’t spell Contsatble and now you are one!“, the more mature recruits reminded us on a banner.

The prince had a stand up lunch with us during his visit that year, at which time he officially opened the new police college – later designated “Royal” during a visit by his mother the Queen. The only thing I really recall during the lunch was the prince asking us if we smoked cannabis – I can’t recall how the conversation got there – but it was an odd question to ask police trainees. I can’t imagine his mother asking such a question, but maybe it was a reflection of being a leader in waiting vs holding the ultimate position.

Twice the Queen drove past our family home in Christchurch, from her yacht in Lyttelton Harbour to the central city. Like dutiful subjects, we waited on the avenue, the road deserted, looking for the arrival of the motorcade, with various police and other very shiny vehicles leading, and ultimately the vehicle without licence plates – transporting a queen and her husband, on full show. On one occasion we were certain that she waved directly at us.

It’s only very recently that I thought about us having the future king as our wing patron – apparently the only time it was granted – there is no Prince of Wales “wing” of police or military trainees anywhere else. Although it’s not completely clear what our patron was supposed to do, but lending his name to our cadet wing seemed to be the main thing, and, according to publicly available information, “providing support and guidance”. As trainee police constables, what was to be important was service – to our community – although it would be fair to say that driving lessons, physical training, and marching were probably more front of mind at the police college that year.

I noticed that much of the talk at memorial services for the Queen these last two weeks was about her service too. Her service to the Commonwealth, the countries of her Realm, including New Zealand and to the United Kingdom. Growing up and watching from afar, that service appeared replete with beautiful homes & estates, motor vehicles, the bestest outfits and, for some reason, picnics.

But despite that privilege, there is little doubt that the Queen has been a symbol of stability, if somewhat remote and obscure to almost all of us. She never really appeared to take it easy, shirked from duty unless she was too unwell, or simply retired. They were not options she gave herself.

Maybe I don’t fully understand it all, but the memorial services with their juxtaposition of military, church and state feels somewhat confronting. Not to mention “God save the King!” being sung in New Zealand, like it was completely normal and 1937. But with that stage-managed backdrop I think we can expect King Charles to reign over us for the foreseeable future. Like his mother, he can be expected to serve, providing in a mysterious way a level of stability and continuity that many people take comfort from. A form of servant leadership. With castles!

And long may the experiences of the King Charles III cadet wing live on in the 60 teenagers who helped me grow up all those years ago.

Stephen

Of the 60 police cadets who started, seven are still serving in the NZ Police, and several are sadly not with us. We’re having our (Covid) delayed 40th reunion early next year. In July 2016 a number of serving police members from our cadet wing had their 35 year service medals presented to them by the future king in London.

An Honest Climb

An Honest Climb

Tobins Track has a steep incline of about 2.5 kilometres from Arrowtown. A man on a cycle moving barely quicker than me on foot, went past about two thirds of the way up. “It’s a good one isn’t it?” I said. “It’s an honest climb” he replied. As I approached the landing, with a view over Arrowntown, across to the Crown Range and a peek of Lake Wakatipu with downtown Queenstown nestled in the foreground, I felt quite emotional. Last time I’d done the walk was in September last year, recovering from radiation treatment and two weeks out from surgery to remove a soft tissue sarcoma in my leg.

I knew I had a problem during the first lockdown almost a year ago and blogged at the very end of my last daily post on the final day of the lockdown that my leg was still a bit sore. Six weeks later I knew I had a tumour, soon diagnosed as malignant and needing treatment and surgery.

The cyclist was resting at the landing when I reached it. He told me I’d done well. I told him the last time I’d been up here was just before surgery for cancer – “been there done that” he said. Nothing more needed to be said. We enjoyed the view.

Over the last nine months I’ve felt many blogs circling in my mind about the experience, but nothing felt right. It hurt, it felt private and it felt very uncertain at times. I kept a handwritten diary – The Sarcoma Diary – which was a source of calm when I felt the need to look back at it.

Arrowtown seen from above during Autumn

And yet my story is extremely positive – my prognosis now a first world problem compared to many – I limp a bit and possibly always will – and stairs are a challenge.

My resilience has been tested, and at times I considered existential questions, although they passed, and looking in the rear view mirror it’s slightly unreal. More mundane work and home life concerns soon took hold – the meeting at 7.30am, really? and why is the gas bill so variable?

So coming out of this cancer has felt honest, with a clear head and a tight focus on what’s important. All the things I already know, but with an added honesty that keeps me focussed.

I told one of my specialists that having cancer was one of the best things that’s happened to me. Apparently it’s not that uncommon.

Having said that, I know that cancer is a terrible disease. I’ve heard more stories in these last nine months with bad endings than I thought could exist in my circle of family and friends. I know that I’m blessed and for that I’m very grateful.

Stephen