MILITARY: Combination of enlisted and officers' clubs reflects broad changes in armed forces

For decades, officers' clubs were revered, exclusive institutions of the military services.

Dues were cheap and so were the drinks. After a combat mission or tough day of training, adjourning to the O-club was a cherished way to cap the day.

Lifelong friendships were cemented, an officer's social status ratified. Officers' clubs were thought to be part of the morale-maintenance and bonding that was vital to an effective fighting force.

Now, in changes driven by economics, demographics, health and social engineering, officers' and enlisted clubs have been closing at bases around the nation, the buildings transformed into other uses, or converted into all-ranks cafes, sports bars, restaurants and meeting places.

The Navy has closed many officers' clubs; the Army has closed a majority, a Pentagon spokesman said. Even the Marines, the most tradition-bound of the services, have closed officers' clubs.

And the closures are fostering a new social order in the military, one where comradeship and cohesion are based more on a top-to-bottom unit allegiance rather than the stratified worlds of officers and the enlisted.

At Camp Pendleton, one of the officers' clubs was converted last year into a family-readiness center. A portion of the old club was renovated and reopened a few months ago as Pub 1795, named after its building number. From 4 to 9 p.m. Fridays, it's open for officers only. The rest of the time, the Marines use it for classes, meetings and events such as retirement parties.

Farthest ahead in converting officers' clubs is the Air Force, the Pentagon said.

Air Force officers' clubs are becoming activity centers, said Henry Frye, general manager of the Hap Arnold Club at March Air Reserve Base near Moreno Valley. The club was named for the general who guided the Air Force through its formative years.

"We're shifting from one culture to another, and it's still in progress," Frye said.

Lunch with the boss

On a recent day in the Back Street Cafe, a section of the Hap Arnold Club, Tech. Sgt. Rodney Doll of Moreno Valley and Senior Airman Richard Pacheco were eating lunch when their boss in the aircraft maintenance squadron, Capt. Glenn Baker, sat down at the next table.

They chatted easily, something that would not have happened years ago in a place Pacheco and Doll never would have entered.

"Before, you didn't really talk to the officers," Doll said. "Communication is better now. We work professionally, but now we also can kick back with them."

Baker also likes the new order. "I experience what they experience," he said. "We need feedback and interaction ---- we get a better end product. They speak freely."

Should any of them come back in the evening, they could watch the Olympics on the six screens in the Aces Sports Bar, which opened last year and feels like it could be anywhere in civilian America.

Meshing the clubs is part of a broader, fundamental change in how enlisted troops and officers interact.

"It's a more relaxed (but) professional environment," said Master Sgt. John Hale, a historian at March and new owner of a master's degree in archaeology.

Still, it's a profound change in the sociology of the armed forces.

"I'm reeling trying to grasp this," said Abe Shragge, a history professor at UC San Diego, who teaches a class in how war is represented in popular culture and music.

Combining officers' and enlisted clubs is a "wholesale cultural change ---- it's remarkable." he said. "A sports bar open to all ranks ---- I see that as more culturally normal than the segregated culture of the past."

Funding crunch

Economics, funding, health and safety also contributed to the clubs' change.

Funding for Air Force clubs was cut in 1991, which meant the clubs had to pay for their utilities, supplies and labor. Two other factors are influencing the demise of officers' clubs: concerns about alcohol-related accidents and diseases, and newer officers preferring to spend recreation time on family and activities other than drinking after work.

"In the 1980s, we started deglamorizing alcohol," said Bryan Driver, a spokesman in Washington, D.C., for Marine Corps Community Services.

Retired USAF Col. Bill Gavitt recalled officers' clubs as the focus of social activity during his active-duty days in the 1950s, '60s and '70s.

"Alcohol was cheap; club drinks were cheap," he said. "Alcohol was so abundant and easy to get that many developed alcohol problems."

Gavitt is a former president of the March Field chapter of the Military Officers' Association of America. He lives in Riverside and still attends events at the now all-ranks Hap Arnold Club.

"We were stuffy too long," he said of the rank-segregated clubs. "You depend on the troops to help you at the hospital, to service your airplane ---- these are the people you depend on for your life. It's a pyramid, and everyone stands on everyone else's shoulders."

Despite the demise of the O-clubs, some new gathering places have sprung up that are evocative of them.

At March, Sally's Alley feels like a World War II aviators club. Its walls are covered with graffiti written mostly by pilots; scarves worn by bomber pilots hang from the ceiling; and a list of "rules" includes an admonition to "say good night to the bartender."

Traditional as it feels, though, Sally's Alley also is part of the new military social frontier.

All ranks are welcome.

Call staff writer Jeff Rowe at 760-740-5417.