Sadler signs off

At precisely 5:00 on the afternoon of December 31, a certain state government (“arkansas. gov”) email address expired, went dark, no longer worked. Messages sent thereto were, within a second or three, returned as “undeliverable.” It was of no moment to the public at large and, as the New Year was only hours distant and there was no breaking story demanding information or comment from the statewide law enforcement agency, likely not a soul in the news racket paused to note it. In the days ahead, however, surely any number of reporters and editors would, from habit, send a cyber question to that email address (or touch their speed dials) and then, only then, remember that Bill Sadler had retired.

Bill Sadler: For the past quarter- century, as the agency’s public information officer (PIO), its press secretary, he was more often the face of the Arkansas State Police than any of the eight — count ‘em, eight — directors under whom he served. John Bailey brought Sadler on board as only the second civilian to become spokesman for the State Police. Wayne Jordan was the first, and he and Sadler worked in tandem until the former’s retirement many moons ago. Before the arrival of Jordan and Sadler, the ASP’s spokesmen had always been commissioned personnel — uniform-wearing, gun-toting commissioned officers. And with rare exceptions the sworn personnel enjoyed a good, or good enough, rapport with the Arkansas news corps.

Bailey, however, believed that the PIO office, which dealt on a minute-by-minute basis with working journalists, would function best if managed by personnel with journalism experience. Jordan had spent decades as a police reporter for the Arkansas Gazette before its closing in October 1991. Sadler, a Rison native, hailed from the family that had published and edited the Cleveland County Herald. A product of the journalism program at Arkansas State University, he had also worked for the Jonesboro Sun before venturing into television news, there to remain for a pair of decades before concluding that its editorial standards were no longer compatible with his.

On the surface Bailey’s gambit seemed logical but it was greeted with suspicion, especially within the State Police: These guys, these civilians — they were outsiders; what did they know about the challenges, the stresses, the dangers of law enforcement? Simultaneously, some former colleagues questioned whether Jordan and Sadler would be so eager to assimilate, and so pressured by the men and women of the “Big Hat Law” to portray the agency in a favorable light, that they would inevitably be compromised.

Sadler once acknowledged, privately, that it took three or so years to persuade the rank and file, from trooper to commander, that he had the best interests of the State Police at heart, even (and especially) at those moments when it might have seemed that he was betraying it. “No comment” — sometimes that was justified, even mandated by statute. But just one lie to the media, Sadler knew, and the game was over, his (and the organization’s) credibility shattered, his value to the ASP vaporized. In his onescore- and-five years in the job there is no record of Sadler’s deliberately misleading any journalist.

The PIO serves at the pleasure of the State Police director, can be fired at any time. But Bailey and the seven men who succeeded him — Tom Mars, Don Melton, Steve Dozier, Winford Phillips, J.R. Howard, Stan Witt and Bill Bryant — found good reason to retain Sadler. And more than one reason. Aside from his background in the news trade, his familiarity with most of the state’s editors and reporters, his understanding of deadlines and technical requirements, Sadler had a keen sense of how an action by the State Police would play in print and on the air. In other words, how it would be received by the public, by other law enforcement agencies and, in some instances, by the incumbent governor and the General Assembly. Thus did those eight ASP directors come to appreciate that when Sadler whispered in their ear, when he quietly recommended against one or another proposal, the prudent course was to come to a full stop and, at a minimum, reconsider. None of the eight are known to have regretted following their PIO’s counsel.

Sadler had long become comfortable in the job, in the sometimes strenuous straddle between his first calling and the demands of the second, a job in which he often could tell only a sliver of what he knew. But, at retirement age, and with a new gubernatorial administration and a new set of state legislators taking office in January, the time seemed right to Sadler (and to Col. Bill Bryant) to step aside. A permanent successor to Sadler has yet to be named. Finding one like him won’t be easy.