Rudy the Nudie
When I was young, there was a local newspaper you could buy for a nickel that enjoyed strong popularity. Other means of delivering local advertising had not yet developed, and people had the time to take an interest in local affairs. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the publishers would happily have given the paper away if there was no impact on ad revenues.
Well, sometimes things got slow. Sometimes the newspaper needed filler articles to thicken it to the point where you, the consumer, thought it was worth the five cents. There were a number of set pieces for this, but my favorites by far were the “Rudy the Nudie” stories. They were front page fillers. Rudy, a flasher who was never caught, would always make his appearances at night. Clad in a raincoat, hat, and shoes, he’d pick outlandish places to flash the public. Sometimes it would be in front of billboard lights on highways. Often, bridge overpasses. Occasionally a story would picture a raincoat clad man wearing a fedora running from the camera in a park. The articles always reminded readers who saw Rudy to immediately call the police, and the police always experienced a high number of calls when Rudy was active.
I never found out why he was called Rudy, or why, if there was flashing going on, it had to be one person multiple times as opposed to several less active flashers. But the whole point is that it was fun reading about it. The Rudy articles were an enjoyable part of a sometimes boring day. Rudy was our own hometown UFO.
This was many years ago, and Rudy undoubtedly has hung up his raincoat for good. And as time passes, memories of his escapades fade. And while he really was only a small part of what it was like growing up fifty years ago in New Jersey, he was a real dot on the mosaic that reflected those times, partly the enjoyment of life, partly hot days when some dads had to work in factories or under a scorching sun, and almost no-one I knew lived in an air-conditioned house. I am thinking of what today’s mosaic would look like. Holding these age descriptive mosaics side by side, differences become apparent at a distance, and then startling up close. The air conditioned train into town on a hot day vs grabbing for a soggy leather strap or a basket-weaved seat, fumes and bugs and waves of heat pouring in windows opened in a hopeless attempt at comfort. The climate controlled SUV vs the DeSoto that looked like a large roasting pan. Different in many ways.
If I am sometimes of a mind that life was simpler fifty years ago, I usually recall that my uncle, a successful businessman despite not having finished high-school, died on a hot summer day, struck down by a heart attack while hanging onto one of those leather straps, heading to work. He was 49. He left a wife with no job skills, two beautiful daughters who would require several more years of education, and a rather large mortgage on a house on Long Island that was now too big, too remote, and too depressing to raise children in.
I don’t think the world will ever see another Rudy the Nudie. The impact would not be the same. Since Rudy, we have had Viet-Nam, JFK, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Selma, Alabama, Iraq under Bush I, Iraq under Bush II, creepy pedophile priests, homophobic religions and other similar horrors. Why, I’ve only now got the feeling that the next horror is just around the corner. Has a preceding age of innocence passed us by, or were there truly ugly events that were just hushed up?
If the youth of today are skeptical of the role of government in their lives, that skepticism is also based on a mosaic, the little pieces of which differ markedly from the one of my youth, mentioned above. When I was young, jobs paid a living wage, although just barely, and my dad worked in a factory while my mom stayed home raising us. A less affluent version of Norman Rockwell’s Thanksgiving comes to mind, if you leave out the year our rather large dog hopped up on the dining room table and ate the turkey while it was cooling, all of us in the parlor catching up on life.
A few years back, while working as a math tutor in a largely minority school, the subject of Thanksgiving came up. I was working one-on-one with a student and as we were winding down, he asked what I’d be doing for the coming holiday. I replied that with my kids now grown and scattered all over the country, and my parents and my wife’s parents having passed away, we wouldn’t be making a big deal out of it. Probably just look at some old photos and recall years gone by. Well, he couldn’t wait to tell me the good news. You see, he lived with his brother in law, and his brother was going to come over and bring some hot dogs and French-fries. It would be like a real family get-together.
“Hey, that’s great!,” I said, groaning inside, wondering where the parents were and how all those who are exposed to the meanness of today’s young world manage to stay hopeful and inspired.
Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
Unexpectedly, my three sons managed to make it home, and my wife, not having been able to find a turkey small enough for the two of us, had prepared enough food for all, in case anyone should drop by. We took photographs, which I always urge for various and obvious reasons. We had a nice, traditional meal, turkey and all, and prayed for those less fortunate, which, for all I know, may soon include us. We talked about when we would get our Christmas tree.
My student’s brother with the hot dogs? He never showed.
Let me know what you think of this post, and thanks for reading.
| 2.8 (1 person) |
July 15th, 2008 at 10:22 am
That was my favorite post you’ve written so far.
So clear. So poignant. So interesting, captivating.
You sound like you have a lot of thoughts in your head, a lot of things to say. You offer fascinating commentary on todays’ world. Won’t you give us all some more? What else differs in todays mosaic vs. that of 50 years ago? And what the hell do we do about it?
July 15th, 2008 at 12:54 pm
And nobody will ever catch me! Like the best of gamblers I quit while I was ahead after hundreds fell pray to views of my pale form.
You know, I sometimes wonder if all that flashing was for lack of a family. Sounds like you have a pretty loving family Mr. Philosopher. I’ll bet you won’t be flashing people at your local park any time soon.
Well it was great to see such a well-written story pay a last homage to my fedora and trench coat antics. You should be writing columns for a local newspaper!
~Rudy
July 16th, 2008 at 6:04 am
It’s funny how life changes. I wasn’t around 50 years ago, but my childhood was in the 70ies and is nothing like children’s lives now. We were free roaming, making the woods unsafe. We would occasionally come across the town weirdo (no Rudy Nudie but still weird in his own way) but parents were not afraid to let their children live outside the whole summer, walk to school alone, take the bus to go for a swim. Now kids are driven everywhere. I think I will do the same when my boys grow up. And I guess each generation has its own melancholy about the ‘good old times’.
Thanks for sending me all the Entrecard credits - much appreciated!
I love your stories too.
July 18th, 2008 at 12:43 pm
I remember the 50s in New Jersey, the unlocked doors, the water baloon dropped from an upstairs window onto an unsuspecting brother, resulting in an exhilirating chase. Such was our trust in happy endings that my brother would shoot a steel-tipped arrow straight into the air on our dead-end street, and we delighted children would scramble out of it’s way as it plummeted toward our unprotected little heads. Good times…
July 18th, 2008 at 2:46 pm
This post was outstanding, well-written, and full of many very matter of fact points of view that people forget. I know I am not as old, but I recall different times and different things as well, and know my children are experiencing a whole different world.
Chew on this one….I know a Nudie Bob, he doesn’t flash, but my father-in-law is a full-fledged nudist and if you are in his home, he will be quite nekkid.
July 26th, 2008 at 4:41 am
Hi philosopher-love your post! Yes,life was simpler fifty years ago. How grand to spike up the day by reading about Rudy the Nudie. However loving deeds have not disappeared. I recall one Thanksgiving when my family was too upset to prepare a meal because my brother was very ill. A wonderful family had just celebrated with their in-laws and had a turkey with fixings in their car for another day. They gave it to us so we could have a feast too.
April 8th, 2009 at 1:56 pm
I remember Rudy the Nudie. That was back in like the mid 70’s. At the time, after he was caught around Marlboro Inn, (or there was a sighting of him at that point), we all laughed at the name. As a matter of fact, we (my cousins and I) made up names for him and his family. I was, Goodie Two Shoodie the Nudie. And on and on it went.