Arpaio does it "his way" to serve the people of Ariz.
By Kyle A. Porter, May 2009
Environment Editor
The face is familiar from frequent media appearances, but it is not glamorous.
Certitude and tenacity are etched on the man’s face; at 76, he’s spent a lifetime enforcing the law, and the square set of his jaw and the unwavering gaze of his brown eyes behind square-framed, steel-rimmed glasses convince you he takes his vocation seriously.
Sheriff Joe Arpaio sits behind a large, carved, dark wood desk, notable for the lack of a common, modern-day accoutrement: a computer.
Arpaio’s notoriety is his bread and butter. His public and unapologetic style polarizes most of his constituency and even causes national political debate. Illegal immigration, crime prevention and swelling jail populations are some of the critical, hot-button issues identified with Arpaio. He announces and acts on his policies without mincing words or bowing to political correctness.
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Photo Courtesy of the Maricopa County Sheriff's Office
Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio shows off memorabilia on display in his office. |
“Some people don’t like what I do,” Arpaio says, “which doesn’t bother me. I’m elected; I serve the people, not the governor, not mayors, not police chiefs, not bureaucrats.
As chief of the 2000-member Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office, Arpaio is clearly and vocally a man in charge: accustomed to the power of politics and law enforcement.
“That’s been my secret drive from the day I ran, to serve the people and nobody else,” Arpaio delivers this message evenly, with conviction, as a standard or banner born aloft through four terms in office and his recent fifth campaign victory.
An assistant steps into the sheriff’s office to update him on calls and e-mails received in response to the testimony of Mesa, Ariz. Police Chief George Gascon before the U.S. House of Representatives Judiciary Committee. Gascon has been a critic of Arpaio since the sheriff’s office conducted a raid on Mesa’s city hall last year in a sweep for illegal immigrant workers.
“The press conference in front of the Mesa mayor’s office stimulated some calls,” Arpaio says. “Our deputies went out and told this mayor to shut their mouths and not compare us with racists.”
The assistant interrupts again: “Calls are still coming in. They’re all in support of the sheriff’s office and the deputies. Say we get a hundred calls, you might get one negative,” she says, “and we get e-mails too.”
“I hate e-mails,” Arpaio interjects, then says, “That reinforces what I said, that I serve the people. If I got 100 bad calls, I’d figure hey, they don’t like what I’m doing.”
Corner windows on the 19th floor of a downtown Phoenix office building offer broad views of the growing, modern metropolis he serves from the red-carpeted, wood-paneled command center he presides over. U. S. and Arizona flags hang prominently on flagpoles in the corner behind Arpaio at his desk. Walls around the office display plaques and certificates in clusters.
The song title “My Way,” made popular by Frank Sinatra, is on a personalized license plate mounted as a slogan in a frame. Shortly after he points out this homage, a cell phone that seems to be Arpaio’s starts to ring with the strains of a digitized “My Way” before a deputy picks up the phone to answer it.
Recent hearings in congressional committees in Washington D.C. have increased the scrutiny of Arpaio’s methods as sheriff.
Arpaio becomes impassioned when a phone call from a reporter with a Washington D.C. magazine is taken on speakerphone at Arpaio’s desk. The reporter announces himself, and Arpaio says, “I never heard of ya.”
Questions about drug cartels and the mounting violence in trafficking illegal immigrants prompt a seasoned diatribe touting his years of experience in the field.
“I’m an equal opportunity cop; I lock everyone up,” Arpaio asserts in response to accusations of racial profiling by his officers in the course of immigration enforcement in the county.
Immigration enforcement has become the focus of Arpaio’s tenure as sheriff of Maricopa County, the most populous county in Arizona. The U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) authorized local law enforcement to assist in immigration enforcement under provisions of a program, 287g, which provided training to 160 Maricopa County sheriff’s deputies. Arpaio wields this authority boldly.
“No one’s thanking me for doing a good job enforcing all the laws,” Arpaio stresses.
After a 32-year career with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), Arpaio retired as head of DEA in Arizona briefly joining his wife in a travel business. In 1992, he decided to get back into law enforcement and ran for sheriff.
Married 52 years with two daughters, he has four grandchildren. One of his daughters has adopted four children of different ethnic backgrounds. He cites this as a counterpoint to the racial profiling allegations.
Arpaio’s major nemesis?
“It’s not the job; it’s the media,” he says, “All the slanted stories, leaving good stories out.”
One of his daughters, Sherri, was a journalist and worked on the East Valley Tribune. Her husband, Phil Boas, is editor of the Arizona Republic editorial pages.
“I still get blasted,” Arpaio observes.
“If I’m gonna take a job, this job, I’m gonna do what I feel is right,” Arpaio says when asked about his work ethic. It is based on his “experience and professionalism and the guts to take chances.
“What motivates me? One is to serve the people; yeah, that’s corny. See, they don’t serve me; I serve them,” Arpaio says. “As long as I have the support of the people, I’ll keep being the sheriff. Once they don’t want me, goodbye; I’ll ride off into the sunset. What keeps me going is that people do want me, so I’m not gonna let them down.
“When people come up to me and say ‘thank you,’ that makes me feel good; that motivates me—the real people, not the politicians that one day put the knife in you, and the next day want your endorsement.”
Public demonstrations in opposition to his policies and actions often attack Arpaio personally, and threats have been made.
“I’m human like everyone else,” he says. “It hurts a little; it’s a little aggravating, but so what.”
Arpaio says he is unconcerned with the legacy of his time in office. “When I look in the mirror,” he pronounces, “like Frank Sinatra says, ‘I did it my way.’”
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