ST. CLOUD, Fla. (AP) - A new policy may lead to hairy situations at the local police department.
Patrick Kelly, the new St. Cloud police chief, said he's letting his officers cut back on razor use, saying a beard is "not a negative thing anymore like it once was."
Much as I salute Chief Kelly's modern intentions, there are just some lines that should not be crossed . . . some traditions that should not be messed with.
This is, after all, the South.
If cops are going to start wearing beards, then people like me, perforce, will have to start shaving.
I can see myself now walking up to a crime scene and hearing, "Gee whiz, will you look at that - smooth face and short hair. I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl. Yuk, yuk, yuk."
See what I mean.
The rules of the universe state that cops have short hair and no beards, and that guys like me are automatically considered suspect when we get spotted going about our daily lives. The offense of Driving While Hirsute doesn't quite have the historical and sociological implications that Driving While Black still has in some areas, but I am no complete stranger to having my politics, hygiene, sexual orientation and abuse substance of choice hastily summed up by someone who has forgotten that a lot of us old hippies have gotten respectable these days, not by choice but because we're too tired to act like we used to.
It was my job once, years ago, to interview prostitutes in connection with a murder investigation I was working on. After my two co-reporters (both now industry heavyweights) took themselves and their blue blazers, knit ties and oxford shirts (and their orders for glasses of chardonnay) out of the Daytona Beach biker bar where we were based, I decided it was time to do some serious research.
The problem was that I had cut my hair and shaved my beard for a joke a couple of months earlier, and looked enough like them that the first prostitute I approached addressed me as "officer."
"I'm not a cop," I said, finally, in desperation, producing my press card that had me with full beard and long hair. After a long look, she decided to talk to me and, in fact, provided some good information.
Later I asked: "If I still had the hair and beard would you have talked to me sooner?"
"Nahhhh," she answered. "Guys who look like that never have any money."
Sometimes you can't win.
If the St. Cloud things catches on, then there will only be one possible result. If they are going to start looking more like us, then we will have to start looking more like them. Otherwise bad things could happen. If Pasco Sheriff Bob White let his hair and beard grow, it wouldn't be long before he would look like a taller, younger and slightly better-conditioned version of, well, me.
I'd have to invest in long pants and shirts with buttons, get more than one haircut a year and probably give up most of my jewelry. (I don't think the St. Cloud uniform changes are allowing dangling ohm earrings yet.)
On the other hand, my police friends would have to start learning about things like mousse, how to tie a bandanna and how to chase bad guys wearing sandals with nothing more harmful than herbal pepper spray.
One day the flip-flop will be complete.
A guy in Dockers and Bass Weejuns with his Ralph Lauren shirt tucked in will be walking through a police station while bearded freaky types stand around snickering and rolling their eyes.
"Hey," one of them, the one wearing sergeant's stripes, will say, "leave him alone."
"Who is he," one of the others will ask, then, suddenly, with pity, "your kid who turned out not so good?"
"No," the sergeant will say. "He's undercover . . . fraud . . . working the latte dilution case."
And then, nodding, they will all reflect briefly on the sacrifices some have to make on their side of the thin tie-dyed line, tighten up their ponytails, and head for the street.
