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May 8, 2005Drop the pants, or we'll put on the cuffsThank goodness for a sharp-eyed detective with the Grand Traverse County Sheriff's Department.The plainclothes detective, ever-vigilant for major crimes and potential threats to local and national security, last month spotted Traverse City resident Keith Schwartz downtown decked out in a pair of brown pants with a dark stripe down each leg. A bit ragged, well-worn, perhaps, with one of the stripes sagging, but the trousers resembled sheriff's department pants. On a civilian, of all things. And to a trained member of the law enforcement community, that made them illegal pants. Was Schwartz a terrorist -- domestic, international, other -- scouting Traverse City's soft underbelly for a possible attack? Was he a police impersonator, a master of disguise who aimed to victimize our apple-cheeked citizenry? Or was the 47-year-old library employee, straddling a moped and clad in an unfortunate stylistic choice of tennis shoes, thrift store brown pants, T-shirt and jacket, and floppy hat, more of a concern for the fashion police? No matter. And no time to waste. The detective jumped into action, hailed Schwartz, demanded identification and ran his name through a police computer in case he had a criminal record. The search revealed no criminal warrants, and Schwartz was released with a warning that the pants caper was far from over. The detective subsequently huddled with sheriff's department brass, who gave the order: Carpe pantorum! Seize the pants! So the sheriff's department showed up at Schwartz's house and whisked away the pants. Whew. Potential crisis averted. That's good work, boys. But Schwartz -- who should be thankful he wasn't tossed in the county slammer as an example to would-be terrorists or peddlers of restricted polyester -- remains befuddled by the experience, a situation he alternately termed "extremely surreal" and "a joke." He came upon the pants at a local thrift shop and plunked down all of $3.25 for the secondhand trousers. They looked comfortable, he thought, a good fit for his moonlighting job as an office cleaner. But quicker than you can say "U.S. Constitution" the comfy pants were gone. Grand Traverse Sheriff Scott Fewins said he doesn't view the pants probe as "a security issue," though he added "they are very recognizable pants and every once in a while we have people trying to stop cars, which is something we are concerned about." "I don't think we would want them back," Fewins added, "but we don't want people having them." State law prevents the general public from donning state police uniforms -- a source of frustration to the masses who'd love to step out in those crisp, blue-striped pants -- but there doesn't seem to be a similar law barring folks from donning the hallowed brown. Schwartz, clearly an agitator, went too far with his anti-authoritarian sartorial show. This is America, after all, and Schwartz shouldn't have any business wearing used sheriff's duds for the flimsy excuses of comfort and thrift. Schwartz even had the audacity to wonder aloud about the public's affinity for wearing New York City police and fire gear and that surplus stores and online outlets are havens for uniforms of every size, shape and taste. That's pushing it, Mr. Schwartz, if that really is your name. The Grand Traverse County Sheriff's Department deftly handled the pants crisis, a Code Brown, in Department of Homeland Security parlance. And finally, right in our midst, a true discovery of a WPD -- weapon of pants destruction. See Related Story: Please step out of the brown pants, surrender them - May 3, 2005
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