John O'Neill would seem to be an unlikely candidate to be spearheading a political movement. Surely, at the age of 76, with a face as kindly as it is craggy and a couple of recent operations behind him, he must be too old and weak. Certainly, with his tweed sport coat, soft voice and mild manner, he is too genteel.

But as he stands before a meeting of the Northern Baltimore County Republican & Civic Organization on a recent winter weekday evening, the president of the fledgling anti-tax-increase Maryland Taxpayers Association appears neither frail nor faint-hearted. And though he is hardly a firebrand on the stump, he makes it clear to the 75 or so people who have gathered at an American Legion Hall in Parkton that he is more than willing to enter the fray.

He charges matter-of-factly that Gov. William Donald Schaefer is "scar- ing the daylights out of everyone" over budget cuts when there's plenty of governmental fat left to trim. He contends quietly that public employee pension costs are out of control but says the politicians "are afraid of the unions; no one will talk about the issue but me."

And though he acknowledges that those who favor more taxes " rather than more cutbacks outnumbered those opposing higher taxes at recent hearings around the state, he promises his group plans to "file a 4-foot-high stack of petitions" opposing higher taxes with the General Assembly by the end of January.

At the end of his brief talk, the conservative civic group presents him with its citizen recognition award for "distinguished and selfless service."

"His ideas are valuable to us all," Harold Lloyd, head of the Northern Baltimore County group, says later. "If it weren't for people like him, elected officials would be much less cautious with our money."

Not everyone lauds John O'Neill's positions so freely. Mr. Schaefer, for one, denounced him as a "rabble-rouser" when he encountered him during an anti-tax rally at the State House last fall.

"Any time you're involved in a fiscal problem, it's not terribly productive to stake out an absolute hard-line position," asserts Marvin Bond, spokesman for the state comptroller's office. "If you've got a powerful lobby trying to tie the hands of the [governor and the legislature], it's not a good sign."

Bill Bolander, executive director of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees Council 92, decries some of his ideas about public employees as "very narrow-minded" and "complete nonsense." As for his "no new taxes" stance, Mr. Bolander, whose group is one of several groups who plan a massive rally in Annapolis on opening day of says "the tide is turning" in favor of a tax increase.

And Tyras S. Athey, D-Anne Arundel, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, concedes Mr. O'Neill's "homework done very well" but says of his organization, "Sometimes you think they want to go back to the days of pumping water" in terms of government services. "They really don't represent as large a group as some people think," Mr. Athey adds.

John O'Neill takes such criticism with the same studied calm he exhibits in talking about taxes and spending. "I'm not a rabble-rouser," he says, responding to the sharpest charge. "I'm the eyes and ears of the taxpayer."

Also the voice. He is a frequent caller to radio talk shows ("I was on the air three times yesterday" he boasted one day last month); speaker at community functions; testifier at legislative hearings. To keep up with what's going on, he travels up to 500 miles a week and racks up more than $50 a month in long distance phone calls to representatives of the Maryland Taxpayers Association in 15 counties and Baltimore City.

The phone number in the taxpayers association brochure rings at his spacious home in Ruxton; the organization's control room is a spare second-floor bedroom, where he cranks out letters and coughs up budget analyses on his home computer. "I've had three days' vacation this year," he says. Recent operations for a hernia and surgery on his eyelids have slowed him hardly a whit. "I'm in good physical shape," he declares. "I do heavy yard work and I'm the maintenance man for the houses of my daughters," one of whom is widowed, the other divorced.

His wife, Carlyn, takes his energy and enthusiasm in stride. "I don't have that kind of drive personally," she says. "But he and I have been married over 50 years. I'm accustomed to him getting involved in this or that."

An accountant by training and former head of Lion Brothers, an Owings Mills company that bills itself as the world's largest maker of embroidered insignia, Mr. O'Neill says he has long harbored concerns about governmental fiscal responsibility; nearly 30 years ago, he was vice chairman of the Baltimore County Revenue Authority, a quasi-governmental body set up to construct and manage parking facilities.

His interest in the current anti-tax increase movement goes back only a couple of years, when he got a property tax assessment increase of 53 percent. "I thought, 'My golly, where is this going?' " he recalls. "I started going to a couple of town hall-type meetings to find out what was going on."

It didn't take him long to go from the back of the room to the forefront of the 1990 grassroots move to put a cap of 2 percent on the increase in Baltimore County property tax revenue, spending $3,000 of his own money in a court fight to ensure that the question got on the ballot. And though the tax cap lost by a narrow margin, the attendant focus on government spending helped seal the defeat of incumbent Democratic County Executive Dennis F. Rasmussen. "We lost the battle but won the war," is Mr. O'Neill's spin on the votes.

The 1990 county election also established him as a master of the budgetary morass. Newly elected Democratic County pTC Councilman Donald Mason, who met him at a rally, promptly took him on as a fiscal adviser. "I offered him a staff position, but he refused a paid position," says Mr. Mason. "He's serving the taxpayers for nothing.

"He's a very personable gentleman," adds Mr. Mason. "He will get into a debate with anyone and will not get boisterous or loud. He lets his facts and figures make the argument."

A month after the 1990 elections, the Maryland Taxpayers Association was formed by Mr. O'Neill and others out of the belief that "the majority of Maryland taxpayers are totally frustrated with government's inability to control spending, set public priorities and respond to taxpayers' concerns." The group's stated solution to the state's budgetary crisis is succinct: "Downsize!"

A self-described "old-timer in terms of discipline," personal and fiscal, Mr. O'Neill says he devotes so much time and energy to his cause because of a conviction that "politicians become so callous to people's opinions" and because "I got a helluva lot out of this world and I want to give something back." Indeed, he has been an active volunteer in organizations ranging from the Archdiocese of Baltimore to St. Joseph Hospital. That involvement, as well as his own personal history, belie the implicit image of the anti-tax lobby as a group comprised largely of greedy citizens who have gotten theirs and don't care about anyone else.

"I was an orphan when I was 3 1/2 years old," Mr. O'Neill declares. "I know what tough times are."

The second youngest of five children, he was raised by three maiden aunts in the Park Circle section of the city after his mother died of can

cer and his father packed up and left home. "One worked and two kept house," he says. The one who worked made only $25 a week as a cashier, and the young O'Neill got used to wearing patched pants and hand-me-downs. He supplemented the family income with a newspaper delivery route that by high school encompassed 600 customers, took him from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. to service -- and netted him $6 a week.

After graduating from the University of Baltimore and passing the CPA exam, he held a series of corporate and accounting jobs before going to work for Lion Brothers in 1956, assuming the presidency seven years later when the firm's CEO died in a plane crash and remaining in that capacity until his retirement 20 years later.

Faced with increased foreign competition, one of the first things he did when he arrived at the company was to commission a study of the plant's operations. Productivity improved 40 percent and a new policy was put into effect: A complete look at the plant would be done every four years, with an eye toward streamlining procedures. "That's where I got ideas about frugality and efficiency," he says. "You can only charge so much for your product, and you have to have new ideas to stay ahead of the game."

Even today, perceived inadequacies rankle him. Arguing against increase of Motor Vehicle Administration fees, he says, "When I see the pace at which those people [at the MVA] work, I wish I could take them to my old plant in Owings Mills." That attitude, in turn, grates on AFSCME executive director Bolander, who calls it an "example of misconception of the public. . . . Individuals who have that sentiment don't want to listen to logic."

Given his business background, it's little wonder that to reduce government costs, Mr. O'Neill favors privatization of public services, such as health care. But his pet peeve is what he sees as extravagant public employee pension programs. "State- funded pension costs are out of control," he declares. "They've risen from $280 million to $600 million in 10 years. That's an increase of 119 percent, compared to an increase in the cost of living of 52 percent." Teacher pensions come as close as anything to rousing his ire. "They can retire after 30 years of service, regardless of age."

Whether his views hold sway in Annapolis this year is, of course, the $1.1 billion question -- the amount the Schaefer administration is projecting the state deficit to be over the next 18 months. Mr. Schaefer's press secretary, Frank Traynor, said last week that the governor doesn't yet "see any outpouring of support for any tax hikes."

As for John O'Neill, even before the session begins he's claiming victory of a sort. "If we had not been active like we are, they'd have had more taxes on the books already," he says. And while he's not making any firm predictions about what the General Assembly will or will not do, he promises legislators will know "we're out there and we're interested."

THE O'NEILL FILE

Born: Oct. 12, 1915, in Baltimore

Education: Calvert Hall College High School, 1932; University of Baltimore School of Business Administration, 1937; Certified Public Accountant, 1941.

Family: Married for 54 years to Carlyn; four children, ages 38 to 52; seven grandchildren; two great-grandchildren.

From testimony before a legislative study group looking at the state's fiscal crisis: "You cannot continue to duck the tough choices you must make in downsizing bureaucracy. You must recognize that our state government has expanded far beyond its means to pay for the services it provides."

On Gov. William Donald Schaefer: "I think he's a compassionate man. He wants to help people. He's dedicated his life to public service. But he goes overboard spending money trying to cement his place in public life."

On his personal fiscal philosophy: "You wouldn't call me a tightwad, but I believe in getting value for the bucks."