Interviewed by Tom Mangan

Pierce Presley, ex-Marine, cub reporter

He writes for the paper here.

What were your most reliable boot camp survival mechanisms?

Stubbornness, tenacity, muleheadedness and the simple fact that I couldn't quit if I had to.

I really think the key was that I didn't allow myself any other options but to finish the program and get the hell out of dodge. I remember hurting my hip pretty bad in second phase, when recruits go to the rifle range and then out into all sorts of field exercises in Camp Pendleton. I pulled the hell out of something and I could barely walk. When we returned to MCRD San Diego to start the third (and final) phase, the first thing we had to do was complete and pass a physical conditioning test: pull ups, sit ups and a three-mile run.

My drill instructor told me that if I didn't pass the test, I would go into a rehabilitation platoon with all the sick, lame and lazy -- extending my time in boot camp even more. I ran the thing, possibly the limpingest SOB to do so, and I barely passed.

But more than getting me up and running, being the stubborn ass that I am allowed me to retain my sense of self during the process. Boot camp is designed to tear a person down and then build them back up, with Marine additions. And while there were some who were completely razed by the process, I retained my foundation, at least.

While there are some who might question whether that was a good thing or not, I'm certainly glad I didn't become Captain Oohrah and a lifer.

If you had to straighten out one wrong-headed but widely held notion about the Corps, what would it be?

With all the sometimes contradictory myths about the Corps, it's hard to choose just one.

I'd like non-Marines to stop thinking they understand what the Corps is like. Here's the rub: Being a Marine is a singular experience, and no one who hasn't been there can ever fully get it. But every wannabe, would've and could've in the world tries to connect and understand. But they haven't seen the elephant.

So I guess I would like people to ask, and then listen to my answer. But many try to fit what I say into their preconceived notions: If someone thinks it's nothing but abuse and I report none, they think I'm honoring the code of silence or some damned thing.

That, and I'd really like people to stop buying the Corps' PR (but I want people to stop buying all PR, so that's no surprise).

What did you make of the whole don't-ask-don't-tell furor over gays in the military?

I think the don't-ask-don't-tell policy is one of the stupidest things in the world. It makes it entirely too easy for superiors to violate it without recourse. And it doesn't address the basic rights violations that occur when a section of society is forced underground.

The furor was more a microcosm of society's insecurity when confronted with homosexuals in our midst. It, along with antiquated rules on adultery and with the brouhaha about women in combat, just illustrates how far the military has to go until it even reaches the level of tolerance in society at large. Not that that level is anything to shout about.

Most of the commentators describe the U.S. military as having come to terms with discrimination and having developed a truer meritocracy than we'd see in the rest of the country. Anything to that?

My experience says that's not true. On the discrimination issue, I remember attending a platoon party. After enduring about an hour of country music (at least for me it was endurance that carried me through), the radio was changed to an R & B station. Five minutes later someone said something like "How long are we going to have to listen to this nigger music?"

One of our staff non-commissioned officers overheard the comment and pulled the Marine aside to explain to him the error of his ways. He then pulled a corporal aside who'd done nothing when the comment was made.

But that's how it was my last two years: there was a group of about seven Marines ranging from private first class to corporal who were from (or wished they were from) rural America and had definite racist attitudes, an all-minority crew of staff NCOs, a tight clique of Hispanic non-NCOs and about 18 Marines outside those groups.

There were crossovers: one white Marine was known as "J.D." after a character in the movie "Blood In, Blood Out," and I got along with the black NCOs and staff NCOs better than I did with anyone else.

As far as the meritocratic nature of the Corps, it's about par with the civilian sector. Politics can still make or break a career, but if you're good at what you do you have a much better chance at advancing. There were people who got a good reputation early and went very far and some who got a bad one and watched people far less qualified get promoted over them.

Personally, I got a bad rep early and spent more than three years under a microscope. One of my roommates moved out to town with some other Marines from our platoon. They began to have problems, and ended up moving back on base. This guy decided to get back at his former roommates and went to the Naval Investigative Service asking them to help. They said "Sure," as long as he'd entrap Marines in our unit by offering them drugs. He lowered himself to the occasion.

At one point, I found a book in his car with names of Marines in my battalion, drug names, dates and amounts. I told one of the Marines listed that my roommate was setting him up, not knowing that NIS was involved.

Everything broke open that week. NIS grilled one of our corporals for about two hours about the supposed theft of a .50 caliber machine gun (a sea story my roommate had heard and believed). I was pulled in and asked about my actions.

I told them the truth. NIS followed me around for about a month, trying to get something else to pin on me. At last, they charged me with obstructing their investigation. I faced a summary court martial, a legal farce with one officer acting as judge, prosecutor, defender and jury. I refused.

They then entered a Page 11 (a page dedicated to reprimands, etc. in the Service Record Book). I couldn't refuse that, but I could submit a rebuttal. I named names and outlined the witch hunt that had ensued.

For some odd reason, a few years later when I got travel orders to Okinawa, suddenly I was charged with Unauthorized Absence (better known by its old name: AWOL). That canceled my travel orders and I spent the rest of my tour in that unit, passed around to different places to do computer or clerical work when someone was needed to organize things (by trade, I was a heavy equipment mechanic).

Obviously I never made corporal in the five years I was in, and often had to answer charges that wouldn't've been made against everyone else.

So now you're a reporter at a small-town paper in Arkansas. Can you share a few examples of the fresh insights you've been gathering in your first days in this new place?

I can certainly report that dirty pool isn't strictly a Louisiana sport.

On my second day (this is my eighth), a petition for a grand jury was filed by political opponents of the sheriff. I've been running stories on that constantly, trying to stay a step ahead of the competition (another local daily and a major regional's bureau), all while learning who's who, what's where and setting up housekeeping at the same time. It's too fun for color TV.

One of the things that bothers me about my job is that so many people, especially in the political arena, have this polarized, us-or-them attitude. They have a hard time understanding that I don't share their prejudices and that I'm not for or against them. I just write from what I've seen, heard and read.

But the level of knowledge about newspapers is pitifully low -- there are people who don't know the difference between a letter to the editor, an editorial and a news story. I try, crusader that I am, to tell people the difference and how access sometimes determines what we print.

What's the best argument for getting into the news business these days?

If you love the work, do it. If not, get out.

In spite of a Washington Times article that claimed newsmen made more, lived in better neighborhoods than and were disconnected from most of their readers, you have to love reporting and writing to put up with all the hassle. Especially if you're not in a big market.

I just got an e-mail about screwing up someone's name. I replaced Joseph with Johnson, not what I'd call a huge detriment to this man's public image. At least I didn't replace it with Buttsniffer or something (I learned early on that you don't use nasty words as placeholders). But this person responded like I was not only attacking this man, but that I was a complete waste of space for screwing up this way. Obviously, this reader has never dialed a wrong number, gotten lost on the way to the store or forgotten someone's name. I'd like to be so perfect. I sent an e-mail thanking them for pointing out the error and promising a correction. This, at least, was about a real error, rather than not catering to someone's bias.

In addition to the love lavished upon newsies by readers, there's the hours and the pay. Both are generally lousy. It's hard to have a social life when you tend to start work at 11 a.m and finish at 8 p.m. I mean, who are you going to hang with? The only people who work your hours are other newsies, you tend to end the day hyped up on adrenaline and unable to sleep (actually, I can't sleep even when I'm not hyped up).

It's no wonder to me that so many journalists go from work to the local media bar to home to work again. As for the pay, let's just say that I could make more writing ad copy, schlepping PR crap across the land or doing wedding photography. None of these above professions are bad in and of themselves. The have significant aspects of creativity and are certainly not easy.

That being said, I'd rather buck crates in the back of a Wal-Mart than do any of the above. I love writing, I love reporting and I can't imagine doing anything else right now. Even if I am being paid the same as a cashier at Wal-Mart (I'm in Bentonville, Ark., And city ordinance requires all analogies created within the city limits include Wal-Mart or Sam's Club). It might not be original, but it's true -- if you can live without writing, do so.

What would you say to your old commanders in the Corps now that you've finished college and started doing something with your life that you really like doing?

That would depend on who it was. There are some I'd love to tell off. There are some I'd like to thank. There are some I so despise that I wouldn't say anything.

I guess the biggest "lesson learned" is that there are some people who don't want to make the Corps a career, but can contribute while they're there. Too many lifers and officers think that if you're not like them, you're not a good Marine.

Other than that, I'd tell them that I'm happy doing what I'm doing. I've found what I like to do, and part of that process was the five years I spent in the Corps.

I wouldn't change a thing.

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