Lance Cpl. Bob Beres

Life of hard knocks made highway patrolman a real 'trooper'

Brad Nettles
The Post and Courier

Lance Cpl. Bob Beres of the S.C. Highway Patrol, who feels he was put on Earth to help people, recently was named 2007 Trooper of the Year.

Bob Beres walks into a classroom looking for the child who doesn't quite fit, the one who doesn't interact with other students or whose clothes are a little too well-worn.

The S.C. Highway Patrol trooper is always generous with his time, but he pays extra attention to that student because he was that child.

"He learned a dollar didn't come easy. You had to work for it, and you had to make the best of a situation," says Lt. Ted Strickland, who was Beres' first supervisor in the S.C. Highway Patrol.

Beres spends a lot of time in the schools talking to children about safety. Kristina Beres, his sister and a Norwalk, Conn., police officer, says it's a perfect fit for a man who loves people and loves to talk.

Classroom chatter usually stops when Beres strolls through the door. It's a combination of his size and the uniform that he wears with pride. Students see a 6-foot-5-inch, 285-pound officer. Beres, 36, remembers the awkwardness of always being the tallest kid in his class, working out in a friend's basement to put some bulk on his scrawny frame and wearing the same brown loafers and green suit with high-water pants to church four years in a row.

He's come a long way from there to being named statewide Trooper of the Year for 2007.

Beres' lineage began in communist Hungary, but he grew up to serve on President George H.W. Bush's security detail. His family couldn't afford a car when he was a child, but as the successful owner of a limousine service, Beres has driven NBC News anchorman Brian Williams, comedian Chris Rock and CNN chief medical correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta.

"I always tell these kids, 'Never say never.' They can be anything they want to be," Beres says.

He is genuine in his sentiment because he has never let adversities in his past define his future.

Beres' parents, Andrew and Margit, left Hungary 37 years ago this month. He spent the first year of his life in a refugee camp in Traiskirchen, Austria. His parents left Hungary because it was communist and tough to make a living. His father worked in the uranium mines and his mother worked in a small store. The family left Hungary under the guise of being part of a group taking a tour of Austria, but knew they weren't going back.

The family lived in the camp while waiting for the paperwork to clear for them to come to America. Twelve families lived in one large building, with each family having its own room and a small stove for cooking, but bathrooms and showers were shared.

The Beres family immigrated to the United States in August 1972 with $500 and a baby girl on the way. They lived with a relative in Fairfield, Conn., until Andrew and Margit Beres became custodians at Calvin United Church of Christ in exchange for housing behind the church. It was a second job for both.

There was always food on the table, but money was tight and clothes were hand-me-downs. Beres clipped newspaper coupons each week with his mother.

"If it didn't have a coupon attached to it, we didn't buy it," Beres says.

By his early teens, Beres was scrubbing grease off tools at a local gas station for $10 a week. He wanted to join his buddies who went to college after graduation, but he knew the University of Connecticut wasn't an option for him.

He was unsure of his future at 18, but knew God put him here to help people. He joined the U.S. Navy, which took him all over the world and eventually brought him to Charleston.

Beres got a job as a security officer at the Medical University of South Carolina, but in his heart he wanted to be a Highway Patrol trooper. His supervisor told him he didn't have the education or connections, but Beres soon proved him wrong. He was working as a corrections officer at the Charleston County Jail when he was hired by the Highway Patrol.

Strickland was a sergeant then and was impressed with the "well-mannered, clean-cut young fella. Right away, I knew this was his career and he was dedicated to the job."

Beres graduated from the S.C. Criminal Justice Academy in 1994. He washed his patrol car, shined the tires with Armor All, polished his shoes and visited his former boss.

"I parked that car in front of MUSC and said, 'Good morning, Major. I'm Trooper Beres of the Highway Patrol. If you need anything, I'll be over in Dorchester County.' "

He tells the story with comedic timing. His original one-liners and jokes of the day are a Beres staple. He's always had a good ear and easily impersonates celebrities and politicians.

Beres describes himself as old-school. He doesn't ride in the back of a limo unless he takes a group of friends to a Carolina Panthers game. He's never used the dishwasher and prefers to hang clothes outside to dry. He'll never wear jeans to his church, the Cathedral of Praise on Ashley Phosphate Road.

"You dress up to go out with your friends — at least dress up when you praise God," he says.

Beres always has been interested in physical fitness and usually gets in a pre-dawn workout at a Summerville gym before he takes his son, Colt, to school. Beres and his first wife divorced, and she died when Colt was 8. He met his second wife last year when she called his limo company for a ride from the airport to The Sanctuary on Kiawah Island, and he was the only driver available. They are expecting a son later this year.

Beres' own father once told him that the way he treated people would take him further than money or education. It was a rare piece of fatherly advice that Beres took to heart.

Darryl Heath of Hanahan, who has been friends with Beres for about 12 years, said, "I remember one time I was stranded in Moncks Corner. I called him in the middle of the night. He came and picked me up, no questions asked, no problem."

Beres also made a difference in the life of Minnie Cummings. Beres used to see Cummings fishing with a cane pole off a bridge on U.S. Highway 78 in Dorchester County and started delivering fish to her house, either his catch or what he bought at the store. It became a routine; he'd pull into her yard on Campbell Road and beep the horn, and Cummings would come out with a bucket or pan.

Beres sold his boat and gave the money to Cummings when her house burned down in June 2000.

"There was no way I could have gone fishing one more time knowing she didn't have a house," Beres says.

Cummings, now 80, still talks about how Beres stuck by her.

"He told me how he come up. I know one thing, it made a wonderful young man out of him," she says.

Beres has no regrets.

"If I were to grow up again, I'd want to grow up the same way because I appreciate so many things," he says.

Reach Nita Birmingham at 745-5858 or nbirmingham@postandcourier.com.