A Tribute to Chuck Beveridge…

Chuck Beveridge

Chuck Beveridge, ‘laissez les bons temps rouler!’

One of my personal heros, Chuck Beveridge, passed away just a day before the 241st birthday of his beloved Marine Corps last November  at age 90.
At the time I met Chuck, Mike LaBonne, Sally Pritchett, Bill Rowe, Charley Rowe, Angie Peraza, Angel Arroyo, Daryl Bennett, Mike Waters, Mike Rosas and a host of other Jarheads were running the nationwide Toys For Tots campaign from the 4th Marine Division/Wing Headquarters office in the 9th Ward of the Crescent City. We were located right next to one of those levies that gave way during Katrina.

The city was dirty, violent, wildly adventurous, filled with tourist traps and local joints known only to Gods and Cajuns. Chuck fit right in.

He was a living legend to us youngsters back then since most of us never knew an Iwo Jima “graduate” and, while he was all that, Chuck was also self-effacing, gregarious, creative as hell, a businessman with a great sense of humor and his own man living by his own rules.
What did we know about the Old Corps? As it turned out, nothing. Chuck broke the mold of the by-the-book Marines running our lives back then. He wasn’t a ‘Nam vet and he wasn’t some pompous ass flaunting heroics of a bygone era, though he certainly could have been had he chosen that route. After all, we were impressionable kids without knowledge of the hell he went through on Iwo and other island hoping campaigns in the Pacific Theater.

The CC’s that knew him in the Joint Public Affairs Office, New Orleans back then only knew one thing, when Chuck showed up it meant “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” Cajun for “Let the good times roll!” Similar to “joie de vivre” (joy of life) that was the hallmark of the Big Easy. It was the original city with a Vegas attitude and some of us knew it because we did things never to be mentioned again. (Has the statute of limitations expired yet?)

Artists would set up their easels in Jackson Square on the French Quarter sandwiched between the Cafe du Monde on the mighty Mississip and St. Louis Cathedral and capture tourists being themselves, just like Chuck. No pretense, no embellishment, just life being lived to its fullest.

In many ways those of us who hung with Chuck were not overly concerned with a perfect “junk on the bunk” display as much as having a cold one before, during and after work and capturing an award winning photo or at least the cover shot for the monthly Continental Marine. The ConMar back then was something special and so was Chuck. We were overly proud of ourselves and knowing Chuck allowed us to take a break from that posture of perfection.

He would often come by the office, say hello to Sally (that’s Col. Sally Pritchett) and make his way towards Bill Rowe, Mike Waters and myself to invite us to lunch. It wasn’t at some crappy fast food joint either, it was one of the best and snootiest restaurants in a town known for quality dining. He let us order whatever we wanted and before the first bite was even contemplated he would say something crazy about his current graphic design clients or how his supply of dry erasers needed replacing. Our useless brain-housing groups couldn’t even fathom what the heck he meant by that, but he’d laugh and say, “There, we just talked about business. Now I can write this meal off on my taxes.”

A second later after pouring some potent concoction down his throat, he’d belt out to a passing waitress, “Oh nurse!” and order another drink. We didn’t know it then, but Bill, Mike & I were witnessing what happens to some men after they’ve been to the edge of death and survived to tell about it and that was Chuck to a T.

Back then he was in his 50’s and we were just grateful some old timer was nice enough to feed us poor enlisted guys a decent meal and went along for the ride. He had stories to tell and what Marine doesn’t like stories?

In the 1980s LtCol. Jack Lewis was still doing his USMCR two week duty every year gathering Public Affairs types from around the country to join him on adventures in the Chocolate Mountains of 29 Stumps or the swamps of Lejeune. One day I was telling Jack about this crazy guy in NOLA named Beveridge. Those of us who knew Jack also knew he didn’t hand out compliments too easily unless you were something or did something special.

Upon hearing the name Beveridge, Jack smiled and while still incessantly puffing on his Sherman’s Cigarillo, simply said, “He’s a funny man.”

I’ll miss ya Chuck. Here’s to our “business meetings” at Mr. B’s Bistro and to all the kindness and camaraderie you showed us young punks back when we thought our seabags were perfectly packed – they weren’t, but you sure knew that and gave us the time of day anyway even though you could’ve ignored our self-appointed stardom. Thanks for making us feel special. Real stars can do that. St. Peter’s Pearly Gates now has a first class illustrator to give the place a little curly kink towards better PR. That’s what I remember about Chuck. He didn’t mind coloring outside the lines.

— Gary Bégin, former Staff Sgt. – USMC photojournalist 1978 – 1984 and CC life member. He is currently the managing editor for NCW Media in Wenatchee, Washington and can be reached at Gary@NCWMedia.net.