A Flying Sheriff

In the boondocks of the Cotton South, that stretch of rich soil spreading from Georgia west to the Mississippi River, every black knew one unwritten law: you did not mess with the county sheriff. Oldtime courthouse minstrels in Alabama still guffaw at the memory of P.C. ("Lummie") Jenkins, sheriff of Wilcox County from 1939 to 1971. "Old Lummie had blacks so scared," one such regular recalls, that "all he had to do was pass the word he wanted some nigger in his office in the morning. Sure enough, that nigger'd be there--or he'd fled the county."

But written law makes the office of sheriff elective, and few institutions have changed more radically since the mass enfranchisement of Southern blacks. Only five blacks--four of them in Alabama--have managed to get elected to the job, but the day of the head-cracking Southern sheriff is passing. Says W.D. Nichols, sheriff of Dallas County, Ala.: "Most of the oldtimers with the potbellies and pilots' glasses have either retired or been defeated."

Taking their places are politically savvy lawmen like Robert L. (for Lee, naturally) Turner, 46, of Autauga County, Ala. Like most of his Deep South colleagues, who generally still favor straightening out troublemakers in the woods behind the courthouse. Turner is a firm believer in law-and-order. But he made certain to pass out his "Sheriff Turner" pens last year evenhandedly to blacks and whites alike; his constituency of 25,000 is 28% black. Turner's law-enforcement philosophy: "We do our dead-level best to negotiate rather than have a bunch of folks get hurt. The [white] people around here may not like it, but they'll accept it."

Turner first won in 1970 on a platform calling for professional law enforcement and modern police equipment. He had a way to go on both counts. But after getting in, Turner promptly went off to a new school for sheriffs in Tuscaloosa, where a speaker showed how he could keep his campaign promises: by applying for new federal money available from the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration.

Shiny Motorcycle. Since then Turner has extracted $250,000 in aid from the feds and the state. In the anteroom of his office in Prattville now stands a Burroughs 500 computer terminal that is plugged into Alabama and FBI crime information centers. Near by is a $30,000 radio console. Parked outside are eight patrol cars, a two-tone green 1976 van and a shiny motorcycle. Last week Turner was cruising about in a helicopter on loan from a federal civil defense program. The sheriff has also spent half of his grant money to train his staff, which has grown from three to 17 deputies--including two blacks.

Though he still smashes whisky stills (28 last year), Turner is more worried about burglary, up 200% since 1972, and drugs. Along with new problems have come new solutions. Last January Turner began a work-release program for prisoners and replaced the ill-famed sheriffs posse with a trained "reserve deputy force." Says he: "My predecessors wouldn't know what I am talking about these days." But the voters seem to understand: Turner was re-elected last year without opposition.

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