“Kansas is paradise: things make sense here. It’s the real manifestation of nostalgia, a still-uncorrupted spirit of the West. This place is the foundation of logic and reason for me,” said
Wabaunsee County Sheriff -elect Eric Kirsch, a New Yorker on the prairie.
He’s responsible for 11 sworn deputies and the safety of 7,000 citizens on 800 square miles of Kansas grassland. His department is fully staffed with zero attrition over the last two years, while other small departments across the country are evaporating. We talked by phone about the ways his small department is succeeding where others falter.
All roads lead to change
Kirsch will be an unconventional sheriff for a place where the county seat (Alma, population 822) is nearly 40 miles from the nearest “big” city. Instead of a small town, he grew up in a suburb across the Hudson River from New York City. Instead of criminal justice, Kirsch studied history on scholarship at The Citadel. Instead of becoming a police officer, he served first as a Marine counterintelligence officer with several tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, and then for four years as an NCIS case officer (yes, like the TV show but no, it’s not like the TV show). After investigating high level criminal cases and catching a serial killer, he tried on life as a State Department contractor.
That kind of background is rough on everything: family, relationships, mental and spiritual health. Kirsch is frank about the effects. “I was a functioning alcoholic,” he said. “I lost 13 friends, 11 in combat and two to suicide. Loss accumulates.” He realized he was using the jobs abroad as an escape hatch. In the odd way our brains become accustomed to even extreme environments, he felt more comfortable overseas than at home. His eventual divorce was amicable, and (he thought) understandable.
Change was necessary, and required hard work. He got sober. He moved to Kansas where his ex and his daughter now lived, to be “a present dad.” During a year off to collect himself he married again to another veteran, a former Blackhawk pilot who’s now a lawyer. “My wife is badass,” he notes. Then one day he inquired about a job while running an errand at the sheriff’s office and was hired the next day.
The military criminal investigator learned to patrol, navigate a new culture and community, and “be a cop.” “There’s a sense of community here I never really felt in New York,” he said. “Every time I work an accident — every time — someone stops to help. Even the bad guys are nice here. I get an uncomfortable amount of apologies when I make arrests.”
Making change in an old-school sheriff’s office
Well before Kirsch found himself running unopposed for sheriff, he was engineering positive changes at his work. From modernizing processes for hiring and training to overhauling uniform policies, nothing has been off limits.
“This is not the best paycheck,” Kirsch said. “So we have to have modern equipment and a good environment.” He says all sworn staff gets lots of training, much of it financed through grants. The state requires 40 hours; WCSO averages 80-100 hours per year, with an emphasis on interagency collaboration to make up for the unavoidable gaps in a small department.
“This is not the best paycheck, so we have to have modern equipment and a good environment.”
Getting pay raises in a rural county with a small tax base is a heavy lift, so Kirsch changed tactics entirely. Instead of waiting for random applicants willing to work for less, he began actively recruiting among two demographics familiar to him: new officers looking for a place to start a career, and military veterans, many of whom have modest pensions that take the sting out of relatively low wages. Fort Riley is nearby and provides a source of military members who are already familiar with the area.
“My philosophy is aggressive retention,” he said. “We hire integrity and train skills.”
To retain people, Kirsch says, a department must invest in people. “Investing” at WCSO includes top-of-the-line body armor, laptops, and grants to acquire encrypted radios, BWCs and dash cameras. “We issue everything but boots, socks and underwear. Our deputies are as well-equipped as any agency in the state,” Kirsch said.
Uniforms and practical redefinition
Uniforms are a topic all by themselves. While the biggest urban agencies are clawing back relaxed uniform policies in the name of professionalism, WCSO redefines relaxed: beards, ball caps and external vest carriers are all on the table. Kirsch displays his own ink without apology, and so do his deputies. Boots aren’t issued, but they aren’t prescribed, either; deputies can choose their own footwear. Soft shirts are the norm, and the issued “uniform” pants are Ariat jeans.
“I was on a call, standing in a pasture full of cows in a tactical uniform and suddenly aware of the absurdity,” Kirsch said. “Sometimes the judge here wears jeans under his robe. Why do I look like SWAT? Professionalism? We are extraordinarily effective at investigating crime and arresting bad guys. Why question jeans?”
The jeans aren’t just a sartorial statement. They’re practical, costing the county half the price of big-name tactical britches. “They’re cheaper, and they hold up better,” Kirsch said, “I want less walls and more bridges. I want to look like the people we’re working for.”
“I was on a call, standing in a pasture full of cows in a tactical uniform and suddenly aware of the absurdity.”
Building relationships and making budgets
Pay raises are hard to come by in rural settings because they are ongoing expenses with long-term implications like increased costs for workers’ compensation and retirement contributions. Equipment and training are one-time costs, so they’re more manageable, but they still present obstacles for small agencies. In Wabaunsee County, Kirsch has joined a long line of sheriffs who addressed that by building relationships and trust, in the community and with county commissioners.
“We’ve brought commissioners on ridealongs, made them part of the team,” Kirsch said. “We’ve demonstrated fiscal responsibility. When I need something, I need to make the point that it’s a benefit to the county.”
As an example, he pointed out that jurors demand BWC footage in court. Therefore, good quality cameras increase deputies’ ability to do their jobs and also reduce liability — and potential future costs — for the county. Excellence in both training and equipment, he believes, contribute to WCSO’s low use of force. It’s been a win all around.
On leadership and retention
“Treat people great and they stay. I used to laugh at the phrase ‘servant leader’ until I tried it on. You can’t overcommunicate,” Kirsch said, and then quoted the prime directive from the movie “Robocop,” only sort of joking. (The sheriff runs his own social media pages and has a penchant for pop culture references and humor.) “We’re here to serve the public trust, protect the innocent and uphold the law. That includes providing mentorship here in the department and leading by example, “ he said. “I’m a flexible boss. The best leadership advice I got was ‘learn to say yes.’ “
“Manage equipment; lead people. But if an agency says they’re a family, RUN. Families are dysfunctional. We are a team.”
Kirsch trains and works alongside his deputies, emphasizing physical fitness, diplomacy, decisiveness and confidence. “I’m a working boss, and all of my skill sets are perishable too,” he said. Since it’s a rural county and backup is rare, the training standard includes the mindset that ‘no one is coming, it’s up to me.’”
“It’s just a weird, happy accident that I even showed up here. We need less managers and more leaders. Manage equipment; lead people. But if an agency says they’re a family, RUN. Families are dysfunctional. We are a team. We win. We work together in good and bad. All of these deputies have had better opportunities, but they stay.”
Kirsch continued, “We’re peace officers, but we’re regular people. Without these guys and gals, I’m nothing. I look forward to going to work every day. I can’t believe I get paid to do this job.
A sheriff’s job is to be brave and tell the truth. The end.”
But for the unconventional New Yorker breaking hard prairie ground with innovative ideas about what sheriffing means, it’s really the beginning. He takes office in January, and he’s just getting started.
