By Erin Free
2011 saw the release of The Life & Times Of Roger Rogerson, a four-hours-plus documentary DVD that delved right into the experiences of Sydney’s most notorious one-time detective. FilmInk spoke with Rogerson on the phone for over half an hour, and found him to be an absolutely compelling interview: honest, no-frills, and often hilarious. This is a re-publish of the resulting article that FilmInk printed in 2011.
“With this DVD, I said to the producers, ‘It’s no-holds-barred, and nothing is off limits. Go your hardest; I’ve got nothing to hide.’ My whole life has been exposed that many times; sometimes with a twist to it, and sometimes not very accurately, but you’ve gotta cop those things…I’ve just copped them over the years. What’s the use of worrying over it? You’ll end up in an early grave.”
FilmInk is on the line to Roger Rogerson, who is chatting amiably and with laidback good humour about The Life & Times Of Roger Rogerson, a new four-hours-plus documentary made for DVD that cuts into every corner of this divisive Australian icon’s life and career. “It goes on for a long time,” Rogerson laughs. “You need a few cups of coffee to get through it!” The most famous Sydney cop to pin on a badge and holster a gun, Rogerson rose through the ranks in the sixties and seventies, when policing was a lot more clear cut than it is today. Back then, a cop could clip a young offender around the ears and not be brought up on charges for it, and there was an ingrained community respect for “the thin blue line” that separated it from complete chaos. Decorated several times over for his bravery in the line of fire, and his incredible savvy when it came to cracking cases, this humble man from simple beginnings was a true hero cop. Eventually, however, Rogerson’s image and reputation would be tarnished amidst charges and convictions stemming from his relationships with various criminals and underworld figures, who he had on tap as valuable informants.
Put under the pump for his killing of drug dealer Warren Lanfranchi, and fingered by his girlfriend, prostitute Sally-Anne Huckstepp, as being corrupt, Rogerson became a focal point for controversy in the seventies and eighties. The former detective’s transformation into a dark-hued folk hero was made complete when actor Richard Roxburgh immortalised him in the 1995 television mini-series, Blue Murder, a wild, vividly entertaining ride on Australia’s outlaw fringes. The show depicted Rogerson as a cold eyed killer with a penchant for cardigans and club ties whose outward plainness belies a core of profound rottenness. Though Rogerson has vocally and publicly questioned the veracity of Blue Murder, he surprisingly remains a fan. “I thoroughly enjoyed it,” he says. “The acting is brilliant, and the whole thing was so well prepared. I’d never heard of Richard Roxburgh until he played me. It was amazing to see how he portrayed me; he got all my mannerisms, without even having met me. The show really is a masterpiece.”
While many clock it as the truth, Rogerson sees Blue Murder as pure escapism. “Only a week ago at the club that I drink at, a bloke said, ‘Geez, I would’ve liked to have worked with you back in those days when you controlled the fucking joint! Geez, it must’ve been good fun!’ And I said, ‘Yeah, it was, mate, but I couldn’t do it now; I’m too old!’ People look at it as the truth, you know? ‘Christ! Look at what they did! Look at them with those shotguns! They were fuckin’ firing at everybody, and drinking piss all day!’ They thought that’s what I was doing every day, when I really wasn’t. The people that watch Blue Murder aren’t university professors, or fuckin’ academics. They’re knockarounds who probably have boring jobs, and they see something like that and it gives them a bit of a kick.”
Blue Murder is a big part of the reason for the creation of The Life & Times Of Roger Rogerson. After years of reading stuff about himself from people that he’s never met, the documentary allows the former detective to address every charge and accusation that has ever been laid against him. From the criminals that he’s killed in the line of duty, to his complex relationships with his various informants, Rogerson runs through it all, and offers his own riposte to everything that’s been written about him over the years. “I’ve got a little bar downstairs at home, and I’ve got a bookcase there,” Rogerson says. “At the moment, I’m up to 56 books that mention me.”
The tome that causes the most bile in the former detective is The Dodger, a none-too-flattering biography penned by Duncan McNab, himself an ex-cop. “He professes to have worked in the hard squads, but that’s all bloody bullshit,” Rogerson says of McNab. “He’s a bloody soft-cock. I gave him all these opportunities to talk to me, but he didn’t wish to. He doesn’t have much going for him as far as being a cop is concerned. He’s a bloody big sook. He wrote a book which was completely slanted. I’ve had people come up to me and say, ‘Mate, you wrote that book, The Dodger? What a terrific story!’ I didn’t write it! I think it’s shithouse, but a lot of people think that it’s fuckin’ fantastic!”
Telling his own story in The Life & Times Of Roger Rogerson is not exactly entirely new for the ex-cop. For a number of years now, Rogerson has been sitting on a stool up on stage in various pubs and clubs, making a quid as a cunning and slyly hilarious raconteur on the unconventional spoken word circuit. “I never thought that something like that would ever happen,” Rogerson laughs of his current status as an on-stage performer. “[Former AFL bad boy] Mark ‘Jacko’ Jackson, the old Energiser Battery guy, tracked me down. He said, ‘Mate, I’m in Sydney, and I’m doing this talk show, this pub and club show. I’d love to have a coffee with you. You might be interested in what we do.’ I met up with him, and he was with [former AFL glamour boy and b-list celebrity] Warwick Capper. Jacko said, ‘We do this, and we do that’ and I looked at Warwick Capper who stammers and stutters, and makes a complete fool of himself. I thought, ‘Well, if he can do it, I can do something.’ I used Warwick as a yardstick, and I soon surpassed him, I think. It takes a while to get your confidence up, and to sit on the stool, and talk to a thousand people. I can do that now. Occasionally there are hecklers, but most of the people want to hear what you’ve got to say. If there’s an idiot drunk, they usually throw them out. People have paid money to hear me speak, and they don’t want to hear some drunk having a go. I get a buzz out of talking about my experiences, and seeing what the reaction is from people. I really enjoy it.”
Though Rogerson always digs through to the humour beneath the controversy that constantly attaches itself to him, his extremely public existence has taken its toll on his family, and things have been tough on them over the years. “It certainly was in the early days, when my daughters were teenagers, and it all erupted around me,” Rogerson reflects. “They’ve developed a fairly thick skin. My daughters are married, and they’ve taken their husbands’ names, so they can fly under the radar a bit. They’re knockaround girls, and they know all about common sense, and the real world. If I’d had sons, it would’ve been a far worse situation. They would’ve had to change their bloody names, and call themselves Smith or Brown. But my daughters copped it, and they went through hard times. They’re in their forties now, they’ve got terrific husbands, and I’ve got seven grandkids who I love to catch up with. We see a fair bit of each other, even though my first wife and I got divorced, for obvious reasons…everything just got too hard in the end. Fortunately, they’ve grown up with it, and grown older with it. They don’t have a problem with it.” And what do they think of their father’s unlikely celebrity status? “They still think that I’m a silly old twit,” Rogerson laughs. “They often say to me, ‘When are you going to be serious? When are you going to grow up? I’m seventy now…it’s too bloody late, mate!”
What does Rogerson think of how Australian crime, criminals and police are being depicted in the likes of the hit series, Underbelly, and the acclaimed film, Animal Kingdom? “They’re all very good,” he replies. “I did see Animal Kingdom; my wife brought it home one weekend. I’m not a real movie buff, and I don’t watch many movies. I haven’t been to the theatre in thirty years. I used to sleep every time my wife and I would go to the pictures. I’d have a couple of beers, and the next thing, I’d be dozing off in the dull parts. Animal Kingdom was a bit strange, and a bit disjointed. But other people said it was brilliant, and I’m not an expert on movies. Underbelly is pretty close to the mark, but you’ve gotta remember that it’s entertainment. It’s ratings that count, and if the ratings are up, then it’s a success. It’s no good having something that’s perfectly true and absolutely spot-on, but people don’t watch it because it’s boring.”
So, what is life like these days for Roger Rogerson? “Well, mate, I’m seventy years of age, and I remarried a few years ago,” he replies with characteristic candour. “I’ve got a terrific wife, who still works full time. We’ve got a pretty good life. We don’t go out much, and we like our own company at home. I’m very contented. I’ve had a good life, I reckon. People ring me up and ask me to help solve problems. Sometimes I can, and sometimes I can’t, so I’m busy. My wife was only saying the other day that if I had a 36-hour-a-week job, I wouldn’t be able to get all my other work done. We’re pretty happy, but I’ve got a crook back, and a couple of fucked knees. I love having a beer in the afternoon with a few mates at a little bowling club not far from home. Life’s pretty good. There are a lot of people worse off. I’ve got no complaints at all, mate!”
The Life & Times Of Roger Rogerson is available now on DVD. This article was first published in 2011.
Dear Roger – never let the facts get the way of your story. I arranged to meet the old felon at Kirkconnell Correctional Centre where he was resident in 2005. He cancelled and so I wrote to him, and he wrote back – in fine copperplate – and told me he expected to be ‘too busy’ after release but would call me if he found time to chat. He didn’t call until about a year later after The Dodger was released – threats by phone. Roger is a deeply unpleasant man, and the Gao jury recently agreed.