David M. Roderick entered boot camp at Parris Island in 1942, spent three years in the Marine Corps, and went on to become the chairman and CEO of United States Steel Corporation in 1979. The Corps may not be aware of the link, but former Sergeant Roderick says the first prepared him for the second.
When I joined the Marine Corps, I was an aimless, quick-tempered, and decidedly immature kid of 18. Three years later, I came out as a man, with the discipline and work ethic that would take me to the top of one of the nation's largest corporations. It was just that simple—and just that profound.
My stint as a Marine wasn't distinguished. I volunteered in September 1942 after graduating from high school, but the training camps were overcrowded and I wasn't called up until the following December. I spent most of my time in routine jobs, six months on Midway and the rest in Hawaii with the 5th Amphibious Corps. I was a main-gate guard at Pearl Harbor, and later a paymaster's assistant on Maui. I eventually made sergeant, but I never saw combat or earned any medals.
But that doesn't begin to tell what the Marine Corps did for me. I'd grown up in Pittsburgh, a Depression-era kid without much sense of ambition or order to my life. I'd gotten average grades at best, and didn't have plans for a job, much less a career. And I was always eager to start a fight. That was the kind of recruit the Marines got when I stepped off the bus at Parris Island.
My epiphany came about halfway through boot camp, when a drill instructor changed my life. We were going through a routine rifle inspection, and when the D.I. turned to face me, I gave him one of those wise-guy smirks that always get people into trouble in the Corps. That produced a stunning moment: The D.I. slapped me across the face with his pith helmet and read me the riot act, right there in front of the rest of the squad.
I realized in that instant that the fun and games were over and that these guys meant business. Over the next few weeks and months, I also came to realize that I didn't want to spend my life as a private; I wanted to achieve, and I wanted to lead. In retrospect, the transformation seems amazing. In short order, I got my act together and improved my work habits exponentially.
The Corps also taught me to be a team player. Even though you may be trying to climb up the ladder yourself, you need to get along well with the people in your squad or your company. You work as part of a unit. It also imbued me with a sense of loyalty—to my boss and to the organization. To respect rank and authority meant that you had to respect what your superiors said. If you didn't like it, then you had to work hard to change it.
The military shows you that your physical condition is important as well. You may not wear a uniform in the corporate world, but it's essential to keep up your personal appearance. And you have to keep your body in good shape, too. It's a big advantage to have more energy than your peers.
Near the end of the war, a captain on Maui gave me the best piece of advice I've ever received. "Dave," he said, "the best way to get ahead in life and in the Marine Corps is to outwork everybody. Over time, the results will follow. You'll be promoted, and, eventually, you'll be selected for leadership." It was a simple formula, but boy, did he have it right!
When I got out of the Corps, the economy was booming. I went back to the Gulf Oil Corporation, where I had worked briefly before joining the Marines. I worked 12 to 14 hours a day, and enrolled in night school at the Robert Morris School of Accounting and Law. After that, I attended the University of Pittsburgh, earning a degree there as well. With that behind me, I had the advantage. Most of the young people with whom I was competing hadn't had my kind of job experience and academic qualifications. I was poised to get ahead.
I joined the United States Steel Corporation in 1953, and began rising through the ranks. I started as an operations analyst, looking closely at specific units and making recommendations for increasing efficiency. I spent a few years at corporate headquarters (which was then in New York) and then shipped overseas as the company's only representative in Paris, spending half my time in the French Congo, developing a manganese mine there. That, too, was an experience in growing.
The rest is history. I became a director of U.S. Steel in 1972, president from 1975 to 1979, and chairman and chief executive officer from 1979 to 1989.
I've never forgotten my days in the Marines. At age 85, I still attend Marine Corps functions when I can. The vanity plates on my car bear the globe-and-anchor insignia. And whenever I see a Marine in uniform—at an airport, for instance—I go up to him and start talking about the Corps. Invariably, I'm decades older than the Marine I've started chatting with, but we always find we share a common bond.
Count me as one of those who was very disappointed when the government discontinued the draft. Oh, yes, the all-volunteer force we have now is certainly without parallel, but in the absence of required military service, today's kids are missing a lot. Too many of our youngsters are coming out of high school undirected and without any real focus, and society has no way to enroll them in a more disciplined environment and provide them an opportunity for national service.