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Barely Making It

The Source

It was the day Jacksonville bared its soul…or perhaps a bit more. “Streaking” was all the rage in the late sixties and early seventies. There was hardly a professional athletic event or public gathering that avoided the shock of being flashed by a bare butt trotting through the proceedings and even the Academy Awards presentation was briefly interrupted by a fellow long on nerve and short on clothing. And yes, even Jacksonville jumped into the nude craze as the students of MacMurray and Illinois College challenged each other to a streak off in front of the IC dorms. The street is now permanently closed off, perhaps as a memorial to those who so freely showed their…uh…allegiance that night. I was not a participant, but I returned to my alma mater when I heard about the event. Channel Twenty was there to cover it. Families came! Families with picnic baskets for gosh sakes! It was like a nude County Fair. I sat on the grass near Baxter Hall chatting with a family of four who’d come along to observe this fad that had crisscrossed the nation and finally landed in Jacksonville. We chatted as if we were preparing for a Methodist potluck awaiting the plucked chickens to come down the street. I was reminded of all this when I entered Wal-Mart this week and ran into a former student of mine who just happened to be the opening act of the streak off lo those many years ago. If I remember correctly, he served as the naked hood ornament on a ’57 Chevy. He entered seminary shortly after his graduation from college. I’m not kidding. Perhaps the truth made him free. We didn’t talk about his nude jaunt down the street but it did enter my mind that having a camera that night might have helped me bolster my retirement funds today. There were perhaps two-dozen students from each college who took part in the streak. It was hard to tell who was who since they weren’t exactly sporting their school colors that night. Some wore paper sacks over their heads and I thought it strange that of all part of their anatomy they’d choose to cover that one. Strangely, many wore only hats. Some walked in groups. Some rode in trucks. Some ran while others strolled. A few circled back to the vicinity of Ellis Hall to make the trek again. Some formed groups and sang while others walked silently, hoping perhaps to not be noticed. More guys than gals took part in the nude run and I guess that speaks well of the ladies. The whole consumed less than an hour and I’m not sure which “parts” Channel Twenty captured for posterity. I’ll choose not to comment on the physiques on display that night. Suffice it to say that when you go to the movies they’re often not showing the sort of film you’d like to see. I applaud their bravery but in many cases I’d recommend a bit of physical conditioning. But the really weird part of the evening had nothing to do with nude bodies, but rather the reaction of the crowd of a few hundred who’d gathered. After the first few minutes we became bored. Oh yeah…another nude body. So what? In a period of just moments, this great taboo had suddenly become ho-hum. I wished I had brought my Triopia students. After serving as senior class sponsor for about a hundred years and accompanying the randy near-grads on countless overnight trips to celebrate their graduation, I’d learned that trying to sneak a peak at whatever parts of each other might be available was the goal of many seniors in their last outing together. On more than one senior trip I’d been tempted to gather them all in our hotel lobby and say, “Okay, take off your clothes and have a look. Let’s get this part over with so your sponsors can get some sleep tonight.” So I wish I’d had them with me on that night of nudity so see that the forbidden fruit can sometimes be sour…or a least a bit boring. I’m sure there’s a sermon in this somewhere although I don’t know that the preacher would want to reveal where he got his source material. After about a half hour of watch the flapping and flopping I drove home, glad that I went, but amazed by the sheer dullness of it all. Like the County Fair, there was plenty on display but the real joy came from meeting up with old friends and chatting. And of course a sticky glob of cotton candy might have been really embarrassing.