Picky, picky, picky. Their ledgers neat, their pockets protected, their demeanor like J. Alfred Prufrock's: "deferential, glad to be of use ..."

Now the milquetoast has morphed into Snidely Whiplash. So far, two accountants have taken the Fifth on CNN, as no fewer than 11 congressional committees investigate bookkeeping practices at Enron and its accounting firm, Andersen.

Meanwhile, ledgers from Kmart to Global Crossing are being scrutinized for irregularities, investors are nervous wrecks, and the Dow is acting like a yo-yo.

"The profession is clearly taking some hits," said David F. Larcker, accounting professor at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. "Historically, the image of accountants has been that they're highly ethical. Maybe not the most personable individuals, but people you could really trust."

In a famous Monty Python sketch, Michael Palin, as an accountant who wants to be a lion tamer, visits career counselor John Cleese, who advises against it.

"You are an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humor and irrepressibly drab," Cleese says. "In most professions, these would be considered drawbacks. In chartered accountancy, they are a positive boon."

In literature, on Broadway and on screen, accountants are rarely villains in tailored suits. They're nerds, nebbishes and social misfits.

"You don't like me, Bond," says James Bond's disapproving superior M in the 1983 movie ``Never Say Never Again.'' "You don't like my methods. You think I'm an accountant, a bean counter more interested in my numbers than your instincts."

To which Agent 007 arches an eyebrow and allows, "The thought had occurred to me."

Spies are supposed to be glamorous and devil-may-care, as opposed to auditors and certified public accountants, who are annoying and scrupulous: Boring Norm Peterson on ``Cheers''; sheepish Leo Bloom in ``The Producers''; meek Francois Pignon in ``The Closet''; misanthropic Luther Krank in John Grisham's ``Skipping Christmas.''

Such characters are sometimes led astray. But they don't concoct companies in the Caymans.

If bean counters have a reputation as scolds, there's a reason, said Paul R. Brazina, accounting professor at La Salle University.

"An attorney's primary responsibility is to protect the rights of his client; a doctor's is to look out for his patient. But the first responsibility of the CPA is to the public," Brazina said. "It's sexier to think of yourself as a business adviser instead of an accountant, but sometimes you can get a little too outside the mold. There's a value to that bookworm image."

And bookish, not lawless, is the way accountants are usually seen.

"From the most famous accountant of all, Bob Cratchit, down to the present day, there haven't been many famous criminals in the field," said J. Edward Ketz, associate professor of accounting at Pennsylvania State University's Smeal College of Business.

The only name Ketz could come up with was Maurice Stans, head of the committee to reelect President Richard Nixon, popularly known as CREEP. Stans pleaded guilty to minor campaign fund-raising infractions.

It was precisely because of its lack of risk and glamour that many students snubbed accounting in the go-go '90s.

Undergraduate and master's degrees in the field fell 23 percent between 1996 and 2000, according to the American Institute of Certified Public Accountants, as people with math skills decided to be stock analysts and traders instead.

Last week, Andersen officials held a nationwide conference call with accounting professors, among the firm's toughest critics, urging that teachers continue recommending the firm as a good employer.

But the Enron debacle has caused some students to question career plans.

La Salle's Brazina said "a very significant number" of the juniors and seniors he teaches were interested in public service. "They want to work for the FBI or the CIA or be state auditors," he said. "They want to do the right thing."

No matter where they work, accountants are capable of heroic deeds, as life and the movies have taught.

It was government auditors in green eyeshades and sleeve garters, after all, who brought down Al Capone - not with bullets, but with No. 2 pencils. Itzhak Stern, played by Ben Kingsley in ``Schindler's List,'' used creative bookkeeping to save hundreds of Jews from the gas chamber.

In comedies, too, accountants have come to the rescue. Charles Grodin's lowly CPA in ``Dave'' was able to actually decipher a federal budget. Renee Zellweger was loyalty personified in ``Jerry Maguire.''

Perhaps the best-known accountant in movies was Jack Lemmon's C.C. "Bud" Baxter in the 1960 morality tale ``The Apartment.'' A low-level schlub who worked for an insurance company, Baxter lent his bachelor pad to corporate superiors for their extramarital trysts.

His ambition almost corrupted him. But in the end he confronted his boss, quit his job, and took back his key.

"Most accountants are honest," said Erica Weightman, 22, a senior accounting major at Rutgers University in Camden, N.J. "They're supposed to be independent and they are. They're not looking for what they can get out of a job."

Weightman, who works for the accounting firm Haefele Flanagan & Co. in Moorestown, N.J., said scandal was, of course, very bad for the profession's image.

But, she reluctantly pointed out, there has been an upside.

"Before this," she said, "nobody really cared about accountants."

-- By Beth Gillin