Protecting paradise since 2013: Leelanau County’s Sheriff Mike Borkovich

By Tim Mulherin

Sun contributor

This condensed excerpt is from This Magnetic North: Candid Conversations on a Changing Northern Michigan published by Michigan State University Press. Now available at local bookstores.

The very mention of the name “Borkovich” in the region always seems to get a strong reaction, one way or the other. When I told several of my more liberal acquaintances that I would be meeting with the Leelanau County sheriff as part of my research, they greeted the news dismissively, eyes rolling, heads shaking from side to side. Yet my more conservative friends commended me for reaching out to the county’s chief law enforcement officer, collectively giving him plaudits. With such extreme polarities being openly shared, I was eager to meet the man responsible for “protecting paradise.” Indeed, Sheriff Mike Borkovich did not disappoint.

Read the Sun’s previous coverage of Sheriff Borkovich including: his effort to ensure safety and security at a “No Kings” rally at the Glen Lake Narrows on June 14; his interactions with local farmers and school superintendents concerned about stepped-up federal immigration enforcement; his views on immigration enforcement and cooperation with federal authorities; his appearance with Trump at a press event in Grand Rapids in April 2024; his opposition to Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer’s stringent state lockdown orders early in the COVID-19 pandemic, and his department’s Herculean effort to help Glen Arbor pick itself up from the megastorm 10 years ago.

Thursday, June 9, 2022, is a Rodgers & Hammerstein “June Is Bustin’ Out All Over” kind of day. Just a few miles east of the village of Lake Leelanau, I turn north off M-204 and drive up a hill to the Leelanau County Government Center, where the sheriff ’s office is located. In the go-no-further foyer I’m greeted by a female receptionist who smilingly says Borkovich is expecting me and will be right out.

In a few minutes, out strides the towering sheriff. Borkovich is 6-foot-5; at 6-foot-3 myself, I’m unaccustomed to being the shorter guy in the room. (I would soon learn that he played basketball at Michigan State University, and nearly played for legendary Coach Bobby Knight at Indiana University.) He escorts me back to his spacious office, which features a bank of windows on two sides, with a wraparound desk whose surface is covered by stacks of folders and papers, reflecting the weight of his responsibility.

On the way in, I notice a famous Norman Rockwell framed print displayed near his doorway, “The Runaway.” It’s a touching depiction of a Massachusetts State Trooper sitting next to a boy at a lunch counter who appears to be considering going AWOL. The print was a gift to Borkovich and the Leelanau County Sheriff ’s Office (LCSO) from one of his constituents. As suggested in the Rockwell painting, one should understand that Leelanau County is very much Small Town USA, and this is very much this sheriff ’s approach to policing.

I bring up the tagline on the LCSO vehicles and how much I like it: “Protecting Paradise Since 1863.” He shares its origin story, telling me that his predecessor, Mike Oltersdorf, originally displayed it on the department’s vehicles, rather than the more traditional “In God We Trust” seen on most county sheriffs’ road units. Borkovich left it on the vehicles upon Oltersdorf ’s retirement, honoring the former sheriff.

Early on, Borkovich compares himself “a little bit” to “Andy of Mayberry,” the North Carolina sheriff character played by Andy Griffith in the TV program of his name, “The Andy Griffith Show” (which ran from 1960 to 1968). “I wouldn’t have a computer or cell phone in my life, but I’m forced to,” he says, alluding to his Mayberry side.

The sheriff makes it clear to me what he stands for, what he appreciates, and what he doesn’t. He detests “woke-ism,” which comes up repeatedly during our several-hours-long conversation. Yet he maintains the country is best when liberal and conservative thought thrives in a state of respectful disagreement. He thinks children spend too much time on the Internet. And kids need strong fathers. This all comes up in reference to the elementary school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, on May 24, 2022, just weeks before our interview. This is raw for him, and for all law enforcement officers, who train to respond to such incomprehensible incidents.

Borkovich, who is in his 48th year as a law enforcement officer, studied biology and deer management at MSU, a precursor to his 32 years of working as a conservation officer for the Michigan Department of Natural Resources. I share that my maternal grandfather was a police officer in Paterson, New Jersey, who walked a beat in an organized crime-ridden neighborhood and cleaned it up. I’m a friendly. I like cops, meaning, good cops—which are the vast majority—having worked with them on and off throughout my career, especially during my three years in emergency management in the ’90s.

Taking into account the phenomenon of human migration to the Grand Traverse region, assimilation is a sensitive subject. The sheriff has some tips to consider as a preferred way of being when relocating to Leelanau County: be nice, engage the outdoors (especially in hunting and fishing), and volunteer in the community—in other words, be like the locals.

On a personal level, Borkovich understands the desire to relocate to Leelanau County. “Probably 80 percent of the people who live in this county aren’t from here,” he relates. “I’m not from here. My grandparents emigrated from Serbia and Scotland and landed in the Flint area.” He became familiar with Leelanau County as a teenager, when he used to come up to hunt. And, like most, became enchanted with the region. “Leelanau is where I always wanted to be.” Who can blame him. Who can blame anyone, that is, unless you don’t behave yourself. Then, blaming is easy, and completely understandable.

I mention that the busy season is getting ready to launch, and Borkovich says it’s already started for the LCSO’s 20 commissioned road officers. “We’re geared up all the time. What you think isn’t busy yet is busy for us. We have approximately 24,000 people who live in this county: people who reside here, have a Michigan residence, and vote here. Then we have a lot of people from Grand Traverse County who recreate up here because of the (national) park, the trails, the scenery.”

Yet during the bustling summer months, visitors do much more than hit the park. They also stop by the irresistibly timeless villages of Glen Arbor, Leland, Empire, Northport, and Suttons Bay. Which means crowds. And with them, coexistence gets stressed. For a rural county sheriff ’s office, he notes, “The pressure is here.”

Of course, Leelanau County is far from being alone in northern Michigan in hosting a major influx of people each summer. The 10 counties that constitute northwest lower Michigan all contend with a marked annual surge. According to the Seasonal Population Study for Northwest Lower Michigan, published by Networks Northwest, there was a collective 78 percent increase in population in the region from winter to summer during 2022.

After several hours in his company, it’s easy to tell—and he tells me anyway—that he feels “blessed and privileged” to serve as Leelanau County’s sheriff. “I’m honored that the people would trust me as their sheriff,” he says gratefully. “There are 83 counties in Michigan; I would argue, geographically, this is the best one.” He adds, “The best part of my job is that I can still talk to people here,” unlike counties with large cities, in which, he maintains, he wouldn’t be able to have such a close working relationship with the people he serves. Mayberry indeed.