By Stephanie Langguth

Leaving his students at Kent State University to document life in war-torn Afghanistan was a hard choice for journalism professor Bill Gentile. He had a commitment to the students he was teaching, but also a commitment to himself as a professional photographer. The choice eventually came down to one idea. “I’m supposed to be here to be a bridge for students,” Gentile says. “If I stop going out [in the field] and staying current, then I cease to be that bridge. I love going out into the field. I create there. That’s the thrill of being a journalist.” Life magazine was Gentile’s first exposure to the world of journalism. “My family never had a lot of money,” he says, “but my parents had the foresight to understand that [their children] should know what was going on in the world. Text makes you think about things. Photographs make you feel about them. I think that’s the link I’ve felt since I was a kid looking at pictures in Life magazine. They make you feel something. That, to me, is the most compelling component of the whole craft.”

Above: Bill Gentile stands before a projection of a picture he shot while standing in the Coco River between Nicaragua and Honduras. Gentile said the Miskito Indians had a very contentious issue in the mid 80s because the Regan Administration had accused Sandinista of repressing Indian rights. “The Miskitos became pawns in a war between Sandinistas and the Regan Administration,” Gentile said. Gentile was Newsweek's sole correspondent for Central America. Although there were no casualties in Washington, blood had been shed in Nicaragua “This photo has so many elements,” he said. “This is a good look at the rudimentary of the culture. It has a sense of dignity and spirituality, which are key.” Despite the misty atmosphere, Gentile said, the child brings a sense of hope.

Gentile began his journalistic career in Central America as a reporter with the Mexico City News and United Press International (UPI), eventually becoming a foreign news desk editor for UPI. The desk job didn’t last long.

“[In 1983], Central America was really on fire,” Gentile says.

As it had been his home for many years, Gentile felt a strong connection to Central America.

“I couldn’t be in New York City reading other people’s work while Central America went up in flames,” Gentile says. “So I quit UPI, and I went to Nicaragua.”

After moving to Nicaragua, Gentile began what would become a successful career as a photojournalist. He was a correspondent for the Baltimore Sun, made pictures for UPI and also had a “very loose” arrangement with Newsweek magazine.

“Newsweek said, ‘When you get there, make some nice pictures, send them to us and we’ll take a look.’ You hear that all the time,” Gentile says.

By 1985, Newsweek was impressed enough with Gentile’s photographs to sign him as their Contract Photographer in Latin America and the Caribbean. Gentile eventually earned the title of Newsweek Photographer of the Year for his coverage of the 1991 Persian Gulf War.

Gentile spent seven years in Nicaragua, covering the country for Newsweek.

Out of those seven years came Gentile’s 1989 a book of photography, “Nicaragua,” which earned him the Oliver Robert Award of Excellence.

“America is my country,” Gentile says. “But I’ve fallen in love with another country - Nicaragua.”

While in Central America, Gentile met the woman who would eventually become his wife.

“We met in Cuba in 1991, and then didn’t see each other for years,” Esther Gentile says. “For me, it was always a dream. I always had a special feeling for Bill. When we did get together in 1997, it was like destiny.

While “Nicaragua” was being published, Gentile and a colleague, Joe Contreras, (currently Newsweek’s bureau chief in Miami), were sent to the Upper Huallaga Valley in Peru to cover a link between drug traffickers and the Shinning Path, a fanatic, Maoist guerrilla group.

Gentile and Contreras were captured after being given bad advice from local townspeople that the next town over was safe. It wasn’t. As Gentile and Contreras entered the town, their car was surrounded by a group of drug traffickers, all drunk, who thought they were not really journalists, but American CIA or DEA.

“These guys grabbed us, tied our hands and took us across the river, where they handed us over to the guerillas,” Gentile says.

From his time in captivity, the renowned photographer still carries with him the image of the guerillas eating breakfast.

“At breakfast, no one would talk,” Gentile says. “They looked like robots, it was really quite frightening. It was just how programmed they were. It was a total lack of humanity, oppression at the highest degree.”

They were eventually released when Contreras convinced the Shining Path’s regional leader to let them go.

“[Our captors] came to our little cell where we were being kept and said we could go. They took us through the jungle and back to the little town where we had been captured. We saw the same guys who had nabbed us, and when they saw us, they looked like they were seeing ghosts.”