Recruits attend both practical and theory classes. Credit:Wayne Taylor Curson died within hours, and the man with the knife, James Henry Belsey, was later acquitted of the murder on the grounds of insanity. It was January 8, 1974. Now, nearly 40 years later, Roberts is the man assigned to make sure such incidents don't happen again. After retiring in 1997 as a detective superintendent, he was recruited back to set up the Protective Services Officers' training program needed to fulfil the state government's promise to employ 940 PSOs to patrol Melbourne railway stations every night. Make no mistake, this was an ill-conceived, politically motivated, vote-grabbing policy made in haste and without proper consultation. It also appears to be working.

Like most career police, Roberts had his doubts about the probable quality of the applicants and the likely effectiveness of the program. At least three times, senior police privately urged the government to reconsider, arguing 500 extra transit police would be more effective than nearly twice the number of PSOs. But the government (particularly the then police minister Peter Ryan) wouldn't budge. Surveys showed people were frightened to travel on trains at night and something had to be done. Initially there were concerns the applicants would be the type who shouldn't be trusted with a sharp stick, let alone with semi-automatic Smith and Wesson pistols, capsicum spray and very hard batons. Now, Roberts says he is not so much pleasantly surprised as quite shocked at the variety and quality of those who have joined. The average age of PSO recruits is in the mid 30s and they have come from remarkably wide backgrounds. ''We have a large number with military experience, we have accountants, teachers and some with MBAs,'' says Roberts.

One, he says, can speak six languages (we refrain from asking whether late-night drunk, ''Can you please direct me to the nearest kebab shop?'' is one of them). One graduate proves the recruiting net couldn't be wider. ''He is a 67-year-old, big, strong farmer - a single father with a 17-year-old son. He said he wanted to work for three or four years to put his son through university,'' Roberts says. Their reasons for joining are just as varied. About 20 per cent see it as an apprenticeship to joining the police force and plans are under way for a bridging course so PSOs will gain credits when they make the jump. Others are looking for a new challenge while some are drawn to the security of a government job when alternative career choices are narrowing. Darko Benich, 54, who graduated on Friday, has run his own business, worked as a computer programmer and is experienced in the building industry. When his concrete grinding business crumbled and he was looking for a new job, a federal police friend suggested the PSO option. ''I thought it could be worthwhile and the course has been great.''

Fellow graduate Jago Jonker worked as a motor mechanic for 28 years. ''My career was flatlining and there was no scope to grow.'' He said the desire to try something different drew him to apply to be a PSO. ''It will be fantastic to be in a job where you get out to talk to people instead of having your head stuck in a bonnet. I can't wait to get out there,'' he says. ''The course is no walk in the park and it has been quite intense.'' The students have to pass a 12-week course, concentrating on the law, communications and Operational Safety Tactics Training (OSTT) - including the use of firearms. If they fall behind they can slip into a following course to catch up ground. Few wash out.

About half have never touched a gun and they are drilled for days on non-negotiable safety measures before they are allowed to fire a shot in the adjacent range. At the back of the academy is the purpose-built PSO centre complete with its own railway station and recently decommissioned railway carriage. Over the loudspeakers a 90-minute tape of Flinders Street Station sounds is played and to add to authenticity the carriage has been mildly graffitied. Scratched into the window is the message, ''All PSOs are dicks''. Clearly Hemingway does not work at the police academy. When we visit, a squad is receiving hands-on training at the station for the first time. An instructor, playing the role of a local crook, is trying to break into the office. The PSOs are broken into pairs to confront the suspect - two at a time. They are polite with their questions but the argumentative and non-compliant crook produces a knife and approaches. The reaction varies from assertive to slightly confused, and despite being warned to try to keep any offender at least four metres away the suspect quickly gobbles up the ground. Lead instructor Andrew Walker stresses the need to maintain control and to keep a safe distance from the offender. ''Distance is king. Distance gives you time to consider your options.''

They are told to run if needed to keep that vital protective buffer, then turn to re-engage. Two recruits hard against a fence pull capsicum spray that they threaten to discharge. In the real world it would have been too late. The group listen and learn. In a few weeks they will be out on patrol - first with transit police and then at a nominated railway station. As of today there are 362 PSOs working at 43 of the biggest stations and certainly there is evidence they are making a difference, particularly at the trouble-prone ones. Police say crime at and around Dandenong, Footscray, Frankston and Broadmeadows is down and, more importantly, there has been no obvious displacement effect. The youths who would hang out at the stations getting involved in fights, thefts, drugs and criminal damage have lost their meeting place.

In other words the hoods wearing hoods carrying stolen goods have been kicked into the woods. In Dandenong, taxi drivers have returned to the railway station rank they had abandoned and in Frankston shopkeepers have thanked PSOs because patrons who once headed home at dusk are now prepared to venture out after dark. ''Now divvy van crews that had to repeatedly go to stations are free to do other work,'' says Roberts. Superintendent John Hendrickson (Transit Safety) says PSOs have impacted on suburban crime. ''Criminals use trains and stations as key transport hubs. At one shift at Ringwood and Croydon they apprehended two offenders for theft, two for aggravated burglary and two for armed robbery. ''The broader police community are embracing them. Every piece of feedback we are getting from the public is positive. There is an increased sense of wellbeing and people feel safer.''

The government says it is on track (please) to recruit the promised 940 PSOs to staff 216 metropolitan stations plus Ballarat, Bendigo, Traralgon and Geelong by November next year. Your columnist must declare a conflict of interest here. We have a two-slab wager with former police minister Ryan that it won't - a bet that is looking decidedly shaky. If we lose we shall vigorously shake the boxes so when he opens one it fizzes over him in a revenge plot code-named Ryan's Slaughter. The evidence thus far is PSOs enjoy the work (there have been only two resignations), are improving safety (issuing 8390 infringement notices in 10 months) and are welcomed by the public. The employment package is nothing to sneeze at (unless you work at a draughty station). PSOs earn up to $55,000, usually work close to home, finish with the last train and some work 10-hour, four-day shifts. They also receive nine weeks of annual leave. The question remains whether the project will be cost-effective when it rolls out to smaller stations in hamlets where the biggest crime usually involves cheating at Gin Rummy.

Hendrickson says an unexpected byproduct of the PSO rollout is they have become a valuable intelligence source for police. In one case a PSO report led police to raid a house and arrest an offender over drugs, weapons and graffiti offences. Last week after an assault and robbery at Eastland, PSOs grabbed the suspect within an hour. Identification was hardly a problem as both the crook and the victim were on the platform at the same time. During their training PSOs are constantly reminded they are law enforcement officers with duties that involve risks and responsibilities. And if they forget, all they need to do is read the plaque that has been placed on their training railway platform.

It is dedicated to Norman Curson, the senior constable killed at Flinders Street Station nearly 40 years ago. JOHN SILVESTER