Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, May 8, 1994 TAG: 9405110005
SECTION: DISCOVER NRV PAGE: 14 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: BRIAN KELLEY STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A state senator since 1973, the Democrat represents a diverse swath of Southwest Virginia territory from Montgomery County to the Tennessee border.
The 68-year-old retired Army officer, businessman and beef cattle farmer comes across as a salt-of-the-earth fellow, full of long stories and short aphorisms.
And people seem to like him. New River Current readers - in a completely unscientific, yet highly entertaining, write-in poll - voted him the "wittiest public official in the New River Valley."
Granted, a host of other supervisors, sheriffs, mayors and delegates got votes. And a few more cynical readers chimed in with their 2 cents (i.e., "Witty? NOT!"; "An oxymoron"; "There are none").
So it wasn't a landslide, but Marye took the day.
When informed of this high honor by phone at his Shawsville farm, Marye, then in the midst of preparing for the General Assembly's veto session, took a long pause, perhaps wondering if the call was some type of prank.
"Why, that's the best news I've heard today," he said.
He agreed to sit down to discuss his career and the secrets of his success.
At a Pulaski Chamber of Commerce luncheon beforehand, he'd demonstrated his characteristic self-deprecating style and comic timing while opining on Interstate 73 and the Walt Disney Co. project.
"I know you're just chomping at the bit to hear what some starchy old politician has to say to you," he said to laughter before launching into a joke about a preacher.
He's a member of the Senate Finance Committee and chairman of the General Laws Committee, both high-profile political posts. He has gained state and even international publicity on two fronts: his long-standing push for refundable beverage container legislation (the infamous "bottle bill") and this winter's failed attempt to modify the state song, "Carry Me Back to Old Virginia."
So he's famous and has stature, but don't expect him to put on airs.
A man pulls up beside Marye in a car as he walks away from the luncheon, toward a restaurant for the interview. The senator makes a joke about how he's usually seen carrying an "Appalachian briefcase" - a loose bundle of papers - but today he'd left it behind.
Inside, he introduces himself to the hostess and waitress before ordering a Coca-Cola: "Hello ma'am, I'm Sen. Marye."
He's an old-style politician - no handlers, no spin control. Just press the flesh and gab a bit.
"If you want to stay in politics, that's the best way to do it," he said. "I don't like to have an entourage following me along."
Marye's fifth term in the Senate ends next year and he's undecided about running again. He would likely face opposition for the first time since 1983.
He survived a serious heart attack in December 1992, which caused him to miss part of the '93 session. He has since changed his diet and committed to three-mile daily walks around his farm with his wife, Charlotte. He's feeling good these days and still works on his farm.
And the secret of his success?
The U.S. Army and its "charm schools," as Marye describes its military leadership courses.
Marye joined the Army as an 18-year-old enlisted man. He became a combat veteran a year later, as part of the American troops in France in the waning months of World War II.
He went to Officer Candidate School after the war and earned a commission. He served in the tail end of the Korean War and the beginning of the Vietnam conflict before retiring in the mid-'60s as a major.
Marye, who grew up in Shawsville, holds out hope for shy students. He never took a public-speaking course in high school. "I was afraid," he said. "I could not get up and talk to a group. ... I was embarrassed."
But Army charm school changed that. As a sergeant, he had to give classes on weapons. As an officer, he became an instructor in other classes.
"I found out that, really, the big thing is preparation. If you select something that you know you're going to talk about, that's better. I still, if I get ready to speak, get butterflies."
And those corny jokes he tells so well?
"Fort Benning, Georgia, that's where I got the jokes," he admitted.
Jokes were valuable commodities there. "When a guy got transferred [out of Benning], he used to sell his jokes to the next guy," Marye said with a chuckle.
After four years of teaching at Fort Benning, Marye had accumulated enough reliable yuks to last him to this day.
Keywords:
POLITICS
by CNB