The cop who locked up ‘scumbags’ takes a breather

After his daily 4 a.m. gym workout, Mike Chitwood is sipping a cuppa joe at a Hilton Head, S.C., Dunkin’ Donuts when he sees a violation of what the 75-year-old cop calls “community relations 101.”

A sheriff’s officer comes in — “vest, gun, taser, handcuffs — who did not say hello to one person in that diner,” says Chitwood, who had resigned as Upper Darby’s police superintendent a few days earlier.

“There were at least 20 people, he’s in full uniform and he never looked at anyone. What is it to say hello?” asks Chitwood, a strong proponent of both community policing and locking up “scumbags.” 

The sheriff’s officer ignoring citizens is a “perfect example of what we [police] get so wrong, it’s a common sensical  thing,” he says. 

The day after Chitwood retired, he ditched his suit, tie and dress shoes, and pointed his rented Dodge south on I-95. First stop was Hilton Head, to be with his daughter Bethann, recovering from spinal surgery. He’s now in Port Orange, just south of Daytona Beach, hanging out with his son Mike, the sheriff of Volusia County, who also is another former Philly cop.

The elder Chitwood is not just a retired Philly cop. He is the most decorated Philadelphia police officer ever. Known as an “active” street cop, he served in Highway Patrol, where he won most of his citations, narcotics and homicide, before leaving to become chief of the Middletown, Pa., police department, followed by running the Portland, Me., cop shop and then returning to the Quaker State to head Upper Darby’s police force. 

Chitwood brushes off speculation that he left his Upper Darby job because Democrats had captured Delaware County on election day and Chitwood’s days might have been numbered.

Chitwood shakes his head. “Now was the time to go. It’s bittersweet, but I had planned on going anyway.”

Chitwood’s always enjoyed good press due to his chumminess with reporters, including me, because of his straight talk and congenital colorful quotes. I think his next career — and he figures he still has five years in the tank — ought to be as a consultant to police departments that think “no comment” is a smart policy.

“When you say that you will make the press investigate you even more,” says Chitwood. “Police departments do more good than bad and you have to promote the good,” he says. If the news is bad, you will get hit, but not as bad as if you didn’t maintain an honest relationship with the media. 

A prominent Delaware County Democrat tells me he is no Chitwood fan, calling him a “hot dog,” as others have. 

“You don’t pay my bills,” Chitwood says to his critics, “you don’t send my kids to college, you don’t pay for my wardrobe, so fuck you.”

I laugh because the tall and lean Chitwood has never been politically correct and doesn’t come across like a man who has a master’s in public administration, which he has, from Antioch University. 

If he has a trademark, it is his tagging some criminals as “scumbags.”

He owns it, but he didn’t create it.

Some 14 years ago, he was asked to help raise funds for a scholarship named after slain policeman Dennis McNamara. At a brainstorming session, the group came up with an idea to print T-shirts with the legend, “Not in My Town.” 

“Then somebody came up with the idea of adding ‘Scumbag.’” Cop humor.

They went on social media and the scholarship fund jumped from $500 to $1,500 — and Chitwood had a gimmick. 

“A scumbag is anyone who commits a heinous crime against another person,” says Chitwood, it’s not every criminal.

I tell him some people find the term disrespectful.  

“These are baddies. These are not nice people,” he says.

And they are a minority, he says. Most people are good, and smart police officers understand that.

“People no matter who they are, where they are from, need to be treated with dignity and respect,” says Chitwood, who has received dozens of awards. 

Which one means the most?

The Martin Luther King award he received when he was police chief in Portland, Me.

He got it, he says, because of how he interacted with the community. “You have to walk the walk and talk the talk. There are 70 languages spoken in Upper Darby and many come from countries where police treated them badly,” he says.

That’s why something as simple as saying “good morning” to people in a Dunkin’ Donuts is an important thing to do.