By LEDYARD KING Staff Writer

He's saved Anne Arundel taxpayers thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars. He's made sure reluctant county executives play by ethical rules and has made government more efficient by getting adversaries to shake hands.
But unless you've trudged the halls of county government or peered into the cab of a passing snow plow, you probably wouldn't recognize him even if he came straight to your house and read your water meter.

At a time when the public eagerly searches for examples of government corruption and incompetence, Walter Newton Chitwood III is giving bureaucrats a good name.

But don't let the regal name fool you.

Mr. Chitwood drives his red pickup truck to work, avoids wearing suits if possible (he only has two) and greets people with a politeness and humility that would make a Boy Scout blush.

"I'm not a public person. I am a shy person," he said. "Over the years I've had to work at overcoming that."

He's not too shy. Just ask the county executives he's advised.

"I always say I should send him a bill," the appointments secretary joked.

Six years later, he helped prevent a friend of then-county executive O. James Lighthizer from receiving a taxpayer-financed $200,000 commission on the sale of the Heritage Office Center to the county.

The $11 million deal included the finder's fee for developer Ernest J. Litty Jr. until Mr. Chitwood, then serving as assistant Central Services officer, brought it to his superiors' attention and forced a rewording of the contract.

Current County Executive Robert R. Neall also has learned from the man he tapped as his second-in-command.

Accused of not being in touch with rank-and-file workers, Mr. Neall rode a snow plow with Mr. Chitwood to better appreciate life in the trenches.

"He's gotten me to get back to management by walking," Mr. Neall said. "Walter recognizes the value of getting out and seeing some of the problems."

By an unofficial count, the former Severna Park football star has occupied 10 positions during his tenure everything from acting director of the county Public Housing Authority to his current job as chief administrative officer.

Mr. Neall has thrown him some tough tasks re-establishing ties with Annapolis, negotiating with unhappy unions and closing the underfunded pension plan for top officials.

"He's the quintessential company man. He's put the company first," Mr. Neall said.

County Auditor Joseph H. Novotny recalls when a green Mr. Chitwood, without any financial background, was appointed county controller in 1982.

"He came down here and asked 'What am I supposed to do?' I was about to tell him to go back to college for four years of accounting," the auditor said.

But Mr. Chitwood's talents as a manager overcame his inexperience.

"He's magnetic. He'll draw anybody who can help him," Mr. Novotny said.

"His enthusiasm boils over to others."

Council members said relations between the executive and legislative branches have warmed since Mr. Chitwood's appointment.

Pension information for which the council had waited weeks suddenly became available from the administration. Its release allowed council members to close the underfunded retirement system for appointed and elected officials immediately and save taxpayers thousands in additional contributions to the plan.

"Walter is one of the few people I can say I trust implicitly," said Mr. Novotny, one of Mr. Neall's harshest and most powerful critics.

Other administration adversaries including Sheriff Robert G. Pepersack and labor leaders who have dealt with Mr. Chitwood say he's been a bridge builder.

A former Green Beret who trained South Vietnamese on U.S. tanks, Mr. Chitwood chalks up his tenure to his military background.

Like an obedient soldier, he dutifully executes his orders. Like a general, he visits county work sites to learn from employees (he calls them "troops") how services are delivered. Like an adjutant, he always credits his superiors.

"The county executives that have served this county have been very fair to the employees of this organization," he said. His survival through three administrations is "a tribute to the kind of people who have been executive."

It sounds corny, but the grandson of an American Indian means it.

He evinces an unfailing sense of devotion to his job, his workers and his taxpayers. When a blizzard swept through the county recently, he was a passenger in a county snow plow so he could better understand how front-line services are performed.

"Your responsibility is to take care of your troops," Mr. Chitwood said. "When I was director of Public Works, I went out on a snow plow because that's where I belong, because that's where my troops were."

Nowhere was his sense of duty so clear than when he flew halfway across the world to rescue the son of a friend.

As Saigon was falling in 1975, he and Do Dinh Loc flew to Vietnam on a rescue mission to bring Mr. Do's son and daughter-in-law out before Communists captured them.

They made it to Hong Kong, but could get no farther because South Vietnam had fallen by then. He came back, uncertain of their fate, though he was later to learn that they had flown out with an NBC crew.

The first time you meet Mr. Chitwood, you wouldn't assume his importance.

He lumbers into a room with a steady gait. His tie's askew and his salt and pepper hair droops over his brow when it's not cut short.

All the while, his hands nervously jingle the coins in his pocket, like a New York commuter furiously fishing for a subway token while a train nears.

He's not the meticulous sort, but he is a quick study. His success at a dozen different jobs is testimony to that.

His biggest fault might be his occasional bouts of moodiness.

"One day he's your best friend, the next day he's yelling at you in front of everyone," said one worker who admits he likes Mr. Chitwood.