Profile: Frank Sartor on being NSW’s most hated man by Marea Donnelly , www.thepunch.com.au 15 October 2009 It is a year since Frank Ernest Sartor was perhaps the most despised man in NSW. Sartor's detractors were from all over Sydney. Picture: Sam Mooy His enemies were massed along Sydney’s north side, from riverside Putney to leafy Roseville, with a rear battalion up in the seaside mining village of Catherine Hill Bay.He considers the year since Premier Nathan Rees dumped him to hand the poisoned chalice of NSW planning to a youthful Kristina Keneally as a well-deserved sabbatical. But on October 19 he is back in the hot seat, facing a NSW parliamentary inquiry into rezoning plans by developers Ron and Roy Medich, called in the wake of myriad allegations after the murder of their associate Michael McGurk. The McGurk twist is perhaps one reason Sartor says the planning ministry left him burnt-out. “Your reputation is always under siege,’’ he says, slumping across the table. “I copped a lot.’‘ Perking up, he continues: “I’m pretty proud no one has been able to land a punch on me, there’s absolutely no suggestion of impropriety. “The greatest accusation is that I was arrogant or too close to developers. I’m copping complaints from both sides.’‘ With characteristic self-congratulation, Sartor suggests Labor colleagues must be rejoicing the day former premier Bob Carr urged him to join the government, which elevated him to planning in 2005. “If there is anyone in that cabinet who is honest with themselves, they must rejoice the day I knocked back [Roy] Medich,’’ he says, referring to four meetings. “They would rejoice the day I was made planning minister. I refused him on Badgerys Creek.’‘ Sartor’s decisions, especially the major development fast-tracker, Part 3A of the Planning Act, earned wide public disparagement, especially from local government, while ALP power brokers Joe Tripodi and Eddie Obeid are credited with forcing him out of the portfolio. As his personal website explains, Sartor’s long march into public life began from the unobtrusive NSW Public Accounts Committee, where he first came into contact with future premier and mentor, Bob Carr. In the early ‘80s he was also a frequent observer at Sydney City Council meetings, winning his own place as an independent in 1984. He worked closely with fellow independent alderman Clover Moore, sharing an interest in creating a “living city” by boosting inner-city housing. That relationship has long soured. Whatever else he stands for, Sartor has not given up his intellectual fascination with the obligations of political office. “The whole purpose of being there is good government,’’ he says, reminiscent of the younger man’s earnest explanations of the importance of public accounting. “Winning should not be the end in itself. Too many [in NSW Parliament] think it is just about winning, just about politics. The main game is good policy, to secure the long term future of the community.’‘ Looking tired, his face slightly crumpled, Sartor complains some colleagues are dismissive of his philosophising, while he deplores “a paucity of thinking’’ in modern politics. He is concerned with a perception that government in NSW is a legacy of this modern politics and career politicians. “If everything is a political fix, a government has no platform, no foundations, to argue policies and government becomes reactive,’’ he says. In Sartor’s analysis, when this becomes the case, it is the beginning of bad government. “Governments have to keep developing and prosecuting good policy. We need to leave the place in better shape than we found it.’‘ Sartor’s parents arrived from northern Italy with four children in about 1950. Frank was the first of four children born in Australia. He has two adult sons from his first marriage, but at 57 is back in the throes of pre-schoolers. He and wife Monique have a 21-month-old son, William Cesar, born 10 weeks prematurely but progressing well. Their second child is due in May. On top of this, his mother-in-law, active in helping with their son, recently had a serious stroke. Refusing to speculate on taking a tilt at premier - “it’ll only cause trouble” - Sartor accepts three years as planning minister seriously damaged his public popularity. He blames political colleagues, property developers, “a mad, feral media” and community activists. “Getting into political office is a privilege, you’re only a trustee for the people,’’ he explains. “That’s the difference between an elected person in authority, such as a minister, and your average community activist.’’ Activists, looking for a “warm inner glow’‘, do not have to deal with competing ethical and political dilemmas. “That makes their life very simple but makes government harder. The only way to deal with it is to have clear goals and policies that can be defended in the light of all the noise thrown at you.’‘ Somewhat reluctantly, he concedes community activists are essential in a democracy. He also admits that demolishing 100-year-old homes on the north shore to make way for high-rise units - inspiring a rush of community activism - would make him “sad, if that’s what is happening’‘. So why does Australia knock down heritage buildings when Europe and Asia preserve them? Sartor’s appreciation of European history took him to Lublijana, the elegant Renaissance capital of Italy’s neighbour, Slovenia, for his second honeymoon. He also appreciates the beauty of Venice, Paris and Rome. “Europe doesn’t have growth, the population growth,’’ he explains. “But look at Rome, there is some seriously ugly stuff on the outskirts of Rome. And history is in the European DNA.’‘ He also explains that five-storey buildings give Paris a higher urban density than Sydney. “Paris was very autocratic and didn’t listen to the locals,’’ he says, smiling. “Napoleon was autocratic and built high density anyway.’‘ Sartor says 80 per cent of Ku-ring-gai is protected, with development ear-marked close to railway stations and the Pacific Highway. He seems unaware activists complain these are the areas with the oldest existing homes. “Anyway, Jono Coleman (whose house at Lindfield is in a development area) is a supporter of mine,’’ he says, a statement disputed by Coleman, who is currently “disillusioned’’ with NSW political parties over planning and development decisions in Ku-ring-gai. “And we’ve got Paddington, Woollahra, Kings Cross, Newtown,’’ Sartor continues. “Preserving all those shitty little terraces in Newtown - if you’re going to keep those terraces then you have to increase densities somewhere else. “You’ll find residents who want to make a killing out of it, but maybe it wasn’t handled as well as it should have been.’‘ And he makes no apologies for a 600-house estate at Catherine Hill Bay, a historic mining village on the central coast, describing it as “a no-brainer’‘, as developers held a tourist development zoning over 70ha. “My conscience is absolutely clear on Catherine Hill Bay. It’s people wanting a cause in life and most of those fighting are absentee landlords.’‘ In retrospect, Sartor says all development should go past the NSW planning commission. “I got dropped out of planning because I was seen [as anti-development],’’ he adds. The Urban Task Force developer’s lobby, with members including Rose Corp’s Bob Rose and billionaire developer Bob Ell, “was hostile to me’‘. Yet two years ago, the Task Force was supporting his Part 3A amendments. “The Urban Task Force is just concerned with short-term greed,’’ Sartor now says. “It should be black-balled. They’re the non-violent equivalent of a terrorist organisation.’‘ Sartor’s position is that NSW needs a new act which would remove all local, State and Federal politicians from day-to-day planning approvals. Sartor suggests the main pressure to approve development projects comes not from developer contributions to political parties, but pressure for investment and jobs. ``Premiers are obsessed with employment and development, and jobs. We have to be seen to be growing all the time.’‘ In retrospect he reflects he should have resisted approaches to join the ALP and instead gone into the corporate world. On the other hand, his passion for government is unabated. Even politics as a local member does not satisfy his policy interests. “I do love public policy,’’ he says. “I have a passion for it. I think I’m good at it.’‘ But late fatherhood has made him conscious of his age and family obligations, so he could pull out of politics at the next election. “I have a lot of family issues,’’ he says, again looking jaded. On the question of politics, his policy is to “make up my mind in the middle of next year’‘. .