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WASHINGTON -- They called him The Boo, and for a generation of cadets at the South's most famous military academy, The Citadel in Charleston, S.C., during the turbulent 1960s he was the Lord of Discipline.
Lt. Col. Thomas Nugent Courvoisie died Sunday at age 89.
The Boo first entered The Citadel as a cadet in 1934, but World War II got in the way of his graduation, and he came back as a veteran still in uniform to earn his degree. The Boo had three wives in his lifetime, but his first love was The Citadel.
In 1959 Lt. Col. Courvoisie came home to the school for his last three years in uniform, as an assistant professor of military science. When he retired from the Army in 1961, The Boo was appointed The Citadel's assistant commandant in charge of disciplinary action.
As such he stood careful watch over Lesesne Gate, the front door of the academy. A cadet passing through that gate once described the colonel as behaving "like a trapped caribou." That was shortened to The Boo, and he was stuck with the nickname for life.
He sentenced thousands of errant cadets to walk hundreds of thousands of hours of punishment tours, and nothing could save them from their stiff-backed march on a precisely prescribed route on the cement-floored inner courtyards of the quadrangle barracks in full kit, heavy rifle on their shoulders.
Larger sins and violations of the honor code earned a cadet ignominious dismissal from The Citadel and a one-way ticket home. Most everything else could be dealt with by spending your pitifully few spare-time hours marching The Boo's punishment tours.
One graduate of that era, best-selling author Pat Conroy, in his first novel, "The Lords of Discipline," cast a thinly veiled portrait of The Boo, but dubbed him The Bear in his book.
If The Citadel disappointed Conroy with that era's rigid hierarchy, cruel hazing and the uncompromising discipline dispensed by The Bear or The Boo, then Conroy disappointed The Citadel with his shocking novel and his war protests, and for many years the author was estranged from his alma mater, much like the black sheep of a large and quarrelsome Southern family.
Before The Boo's death, the family had reunited and somehow managed to forgive each other. Conroy came back in 2000 and stood beside The Boo as both of them received honorary degrees and reviewed a dress parade of The Citadel cadet corps as cannon sounded, flags and banners flew, and the two old grads watched with more than a little pride.
After his tour as the Lord of Discipline, The Boo was sent over to run the school's central supply warehouse until he retired in 1982. If you needed something, like a phone or a lamp or anything else, you had to deal with The Boo. He would have taken any job the school offered so long as he stayed in touch with his cadets.
Besides, putting The Boo in charge of supplies no doubt saved The Citadel a good bit of money.
Maj. Steve Smith, Class of 1984, now a tactical officer assigned to teach and mentor cadets at his old school, says you could hear The Boo even before you saw him, asking in a deep cigar-tuned voice: "May I help you?"
With his fearsome reputation preceding him, some cadets just did without whatever they needed rather than face The Boo.
Smith says The Boo wasn't really as gruff and tough as legend had it. "Respected, yes, but not feared," the Army officer said. He added, however, that a classmate had a different take on The Boo after this exchange over picking up a telephone for his room:
The Boo: May I help you?
Cadet: Yeah, old man, I need a phone.
The Boo: You don't know who I am, do you, Bubba?
Cadet: You're the guy who works here.
The Boo: Why don't you step into my office for a bit?
The Boo retired a long time ago, and now he has crossed the river. But he left a message, a promise really, for The Citadel cadets:
"Whatever you did wrong at The Citadel, even if you had bad thoughts, I am going to be waiting for you as sergeant of Lesesne Gate in Hades, and you're going to walk, Bubba!"
Better put on some comfortable shoes, Bubba, because The Boo never forgets, and the quadrangle in Hell is reputed to be hotter than a Charleston afternoon in late August.
Joe Galloway is the senior military correspondent for Knight Ridder and the author of several books, including the national bestseller "We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young." He can be reached at jgalloway@krwashington.com" Target="_BLANK">jgalloway@krwashington.com