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Mylander: After 63 years of service, three shift to untitled lives
By JAMIE MALERNEE © St. Petersburg Times, published January 2, 2001 The key to sailing, Tom Mylander explains, is knowing much more than how to handle a boat. Anyone can steer blindly into the water, hoping the wind stays strong and a storm doesn't hit. A good sailor, Mylander says, sizes up the weather beforehand and decides whether to risk a trip into choppy waters. "You don't go crashing into something bad," he says. "You don't mess with Mother Nature." As Mylander, 58, shifts from his role as longtime Hernando County sheriff to that of retiree, he talks more about nautical matters and less about law enforcement. Today, as his successor, Richard Nugent, takes over the Sheriff's Office, Mylander will get his first taste of freedom in 16 years. He said he hopes to spend his first day on his 32-foot sailboat, Dream Catcher, as it glides off the west coast of Florida on its first voyage. Weather permitting, of course. "Sailing is a whole different world. It's the water and the wind . . . and you," Mylander said last week, sitting at what was then still his desk at the Sheriff's Office. "It can wear you out when the wind is really hollering. But you feel like you've accomplished something because it's something that you've (steered) yourself." As Mylander steps away from the coveted position he has held for four consecutive terms, many colleagues describe him as one of the most influential men in Hernando County's recent history, who ridded the office of its good ol' boy mentality and turned it into a professional, modern operation serving a population that has doubled in size. In doing so, they say, he has steered the Sheriff's Office with care and confidence not unlike that which he now will use to sail Dream Catcher. Sizing up political winds. Staffing the office with a solid, well-trained crew. Knowing when to rock the boat, and how to otherwise keep it sailing smoothly. "Tom has brought us into the new millennium with new policies and technologies that would be the envy of any law enforcement agency in the state," said state Rep. David Russell, R-Brooksville. "Tom's a great communicator and has a great deal of political savvy." Despite his reputation for political astuteness, Mylander still claims to hate the dog and pony show. He calls his ability to make Tallahassee connections and persuade county commissioners to regularly increase his agency's budget -- from $3.4-million in 1984 to $17.6-million in 2000 -- a matter of "survival," the one part of his job that he will not miss. "I don't like politics, and I don't like petty egos. But that's all part of it. You just don't go out of your way to get anyone mad, and you treat everyone with respect," he said. "But it's not all politics. Some (of it) is just knowing people and what needs to be done. . . . And that's what I've tried to do." Marine goes to HollywoodThomas August Mylander, born May 12, 1942, never wanted to be a sheriff when he grew up -- or even a police officer, for that matter. No, the closest he ever got to career aspirations were teenage dreams of being a race car driver while drag-racing along the desolate back roads of Clearwater, his hometown, which at the time was little more than a long, white beach and palm-filled jungle. "Rebel without a cause," he recalled with a shake of his head and a chuckle. When Mylander finished high school and realized race car driving wasn't in the cards, he joined the Marines and switched from tinkering with automobiles to tinkering with aircraft. He flew planes and helicopters around the world and traveled aboard large ships, was present at the naval blockade of Cuba during the Cuban missile crisis in 1962 and also brought equipment and aircraft to the forces serving in Vietnam. As for combat, Mylander never saw it -- at least not any he can talk about with a nosy newspaper reporter, the former Marine hinted with a wide smile and a long pause. After four years in the military and a few more at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, Mylander wed his longtime sweetheart, Sandy Parmelee. The two had caught each other's eye five years earlier at one of those old-time, drive-in restaurants while out cruising with a bunch of friends. At the time, Mylander was dating Sandy's friend, but he would come to his senses later. By 1967, they had married and moved to California, where Mylander was working for an aviation company that supplied planes to the Hollywood stars and flew aircraft for movie action sequences. In the process, Mylander met John Wayne, saw Sammy Davis Jr. and served on the crew of a plane that was filmed for the classic movie Catch-22. "They took all kinds of (camera) shots," Mylander remembered of his brush with stardom. "The lifestyle was neat. Fast." But California was not home to this Florida boy, and the couple returned to Clearwater in 1969. Flying jobs were not as prolific here, however, and Mylander sold life insurance for a year to pay the bills, before he couldn't stand it anymore and quit. "I hated it," he recalled. "Worst job I ever had. I hated selling people something they couldn't afford." At about that time, the Mylanders had the first of their three children. Meanwhile, young Tom decided on a new career path, one where he hoped he could combine his "spit and polish" military background and flight experience: law enforcement. "They just all dovetailed together nicely," Mylander said of the several years he spent with the Pinellas County Sheriff's Office, where he worked on the road and aviation units. "I was able to combine my love for flying and law enforcement -- and then you go do something stupid, like run for sheriff." Time came to oust sheriffOf course, it didn't happen that suddenly. Mylander's path to sheriff began when he moved to Hernando County in 1977 and joined the Sheriff's Office as a detective. At the time, Sheriff Melvin Kelly was in charge, and the agency was being investigated. Allegations flew about, including stories of brutality at the jail, where Mylander recalls conditions were "disastrous . . . unbelievable." After a man was beaten and committed suicide, the governor called Kelly up to Tallahassee. The sheriff brought Mylander and a few others in tow. A plan for reform was devised, removing Kelly from the day-to-day operations of the agency. The state bigwigs approved, and the Hernando contingent returned home. "We got back, and within a month it was business as usual," Mylander remembered. Just as he had been unwilling to sell life insurance plans that families could not afford, Mylander was unable to back a sheriff who he thought was not doing what had to be done. In 1980, he left the agency in disgust and tried to start his own aviation company. He watched in disappointment as his friend, Frank Bierwiler, ran for sheriff that same year against Kelly and lost by 24 votes. The following year, Mylander signed on with the Pasco County Sheriff's Office. When the next Hernando election rolled around in 1984, he decided to run against Kelly's chosen successor, John Wolf. Mylander could feel change in the wind. "I felt the time was right. I had a lot of people coming up to me and asking me to run," Mylander recalled. "I felt this was an opportunity to build an organization, to bring in some good people and really grow with the population. And everything really fell into place." After first gaining the support of Republicans and residents in Spring Hill, Mylander went on to win the election, stunning Kelly's old-school power base of support in Brooksville. It was time to clean house. Office changes, expandsOnce Mylander took over as sheriff in January 1985, he changed some policies and created others. Some were no-brainers, such as a set pay scale for employees based on rank and experience, instead of friendships and back-room deals. Others were more contentious. Mylander recalls that hiring a company to operate the jail, something he urged the County Commission to approve, was a real "political football." By the end of Mylander's first term, the county had a new jail and plans were under way for a new home for the Sheriff's Office, where it currently sits off the State Road 50 truck route on the southwest side of Brooksville. Over Mylander's four terms, in addition to the budget increase to the current $17.6-million, the number of deputies has increased from 44 to 196. Among his accomplishments, he counts: the establishment of aviation and marine units for the agency, developing a community policing force, standardizing performance reviews and promotions, obtaining state accreditation for the agency, serving as president of the Florida Sheriff's Association, and just plain surviving the wear and tear of almost two decades in the limelight. "He mystified all of us," said outgoing Pasco County Sheriff Lee Cannon. "Years ago, Tom was able to achieve many things (other sheriffs across the state) admired, particularly with the County Commission and securing budget resources. I tried to learn from him." Mylander, meanwhile, was learning from firsthand experience. Hernando County began to see some "big-city crime" as the population increased. Two notable cases occurred in 1993, when Edwin "Mike" Kaprat III was charged with killing five elderly Hernando County residents, and the body of 12-year-old Jennifer Odom was found near an orange grove south of Brooksville after she was kidnapped from a bus stop in Pasco County. Kaprat was convicted of two murders, sentenced to death and killed by other inmates on death row. The Odom case remains unsolved. In 1999, Mylander's department negotiated for the release of a hostage held by Hank Earl Carr, who arrived in Hernando County after killing a 4-year-old boy, two Tampa Police detectives and a Florida Highway Patrol trooper. Carr killed himself after releasing the hostage. Being sheriff could be a lonely job, Mylander learned. The toughest moments, he said, were personal ones, when he had to discipline people he loved for the good of the agency. Incidents that come to mind, he said, include the forced resignation of his friend, Maj. G.Z. Smith, who referred to a deputy with a racial slur, and the time he chose to leave his son, who had been charged with dealing in stolen property, in jail for several days before bailing him out. "It weighs heavy," Mylander admitted. "But you can't put your friendships above the agency. It hurts, but it's what has to be done." Despite all of the technical advancements during his tenure, Mylander said, he is most proud of how he ran the office, not what he did while in charge. "I cared about people, and I tried to be as fair as I could," he said. "I made sure there was no double standard and tried to be honest." Many of his employees say he succeeded. "A lot of people say those things but don't live them. He's lived them," said retiring Chief Deputy Don Shields. "A lot of politicians are one thing in public and something else when you get to know them. He's the same person whether he's up on a podium, or you're having lunch with him, or he's running the office. Steady. And that's why I think you see all the emotion about him leaving." As for regrets, Mylander says he has none -- at least professionally. He still longs to solve the murder of Jennifer Odom, to bring her family closure. But he believes detectives have done everything they could. If he had it to do all over again, Mylander said, the only thing he wishes he had done differently was spend more time with his family. "If I have one regret, it's trading family life for a life of public service," he said. "Your life is not really your own; your life becomes the job. And I think I went overboard sometimes because I thought that was needed. And before you know it, the kids are all grown up and gone." Sailboat skims on horizonAs for his future, Mylander hasn't made too many plans. He imagines spending sunny days on his sailboat in shorts and flip-flops, accompanied by his golden retriever, Princess. Nights will pass quietly with his wife, Sandy, listening to jazz music and making up for lost time. There will be quiet strolls through the 20 acres they live on east of Brooksville, and dinners where he will not have to stand up at the end and make a speech. "We've had 16 years of that, and we're looking forward to a day together where we're not interrupted with a beeper or a phone call," Mylander said. "What that will be like, I don't know." Despite speculation that Mylander could someday pursue political office at the state level, he scoffs at the suggestion. "Are there political offices in the Bahamas?" he said with a laugh. "You get to the point in your life where you want to do other things. I know it sounds corny, but life goes so fast that you can miss the free stuff -- the sunsets, the quiet." As for the future of the Sheriff's Office, Mylander says he feels confident he has left it in competent hands. Nugent, whom he backed during the recent, hotly contested election, will do a great job if he just remembers to surround himself with good people, Mylander said. The biggest challenge Nugent faces, he says, will be to keep pace with growth and increased crime that will come with time and the opening of the Suncoast Parkway. "More people move in, and they're not all good," he cautioned. "I think we're becoming a society that is very materialistic, that wants everything now, and doesn't want to work for it. Life itself doesn't mean anything." As for any advice he would leave his protege, Mylander just shakes his head. "He has to learn on his own," he said. "This is his Sheriff's Office now, not mine."
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