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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Coming of Age / Initiation
- Published: 10/09/2021
Streaking
Born 1954, M, from Cocoa Beach/FL, United StatesStreaking
“Hey, Mike,” I said to my roommate at Trinity University one night in the spring of 1974. “Have you heard about streaking?”
“What’s that?”
“The newest craze around the country.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Basically, it’s running around nude in public.”
“What?”
“My cousin called to tell me about a guy who streaked at his high school graduation. A graduate ran across the stage naked, shocking people so much that he made it out the back door without getting caught.”
Mike broke out laughing.
“Guys are streaking at campuses across the country and even at a soccer game in England. The fans went wild.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Mike asked with an eyebrow raised.
“No one has streaked in San Antonio yet.”
He paused to think. Mike consistently did wild stunts around campus. I knew I had his interest.
“Someone has to be first.” Mike grinned
“Yes, they do.”
A familiar conspiracy took root between us.
“I could make it worth someone’s while,” I said.
“How worth a while?”
“Depends on where someone streaked. Why don’t we take a ride and think about it?”
Mike grabbed a ski mask just in case. We hopped into my car and drove around looking for nighttime trouble. Our small campus only had a few places to find people at night. Dorms were primary targets where other kids would see a streaker. We had boy dorms and girl dorms. Running through a boy dorm would draw little interest. However, streaking a girls’ dorm sounded adventurous. Especially because girl’s dorms stayed locked at night to keep boys out. The challenge would be getting past the Smithy (a private guard from Smith Security Services) guarding the front door. He would not open his door for a naked kid. But a Smithy was not at the locked back door.
I pulled into a parking lot near Lightner Dorm’s rear door.
“Presuming I could get in and out without being caught, what would be my reward?” Mike asked seriously. “It would have to be worth maybe getting caught.”
“Hmm,” I thought about how much money I had on me. Not much, but it would be worth it. “How about two beers?”
The universal tender in college.
“Now you’re talking,” Mike said. “We just have to wait here until a girl opens the back door. I’ll run in behind her, down the hall, past their Smithy, and out the front door.”
“It’s a deal,” I said with a laugh. Streaking would be his most outrageous stunt yet, bringing fame on campus if he pulled it off.
“On one condition,” he said with a straight face. “You better be out there to pick me up.”
“No way. Smithies know my car.”
“How am I supposed to get back to the dorm?” Mike asked.
“Run.”
“All the way across campus?”
Maybe 400 to 500 yards at our exclusive private school.
“Yes.”
“There will be several Smithies patrolling campus.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be running faster than them,” I said with a knowing grin.
“You’re right about that. This streak will cost you a pitcher of Michelob.”
I cringed. “Well, okay. Here comes a girl in the lot. You better take your clothes off.”
I wanted to push him out my door before he changed his mind. Mike stripped, throwing his clothes into my back seat.
“Put your shoes back on,” I said.
“Oh yeah.”
Wearing only his shoes, a ski mask, and holding his room key, Mike left my car to crouch behind a bush while he waited for the girl to open her dorm’s back door with a key. When she did, I watched his white backside run and grab the door before it closed. He disappeared inside. A girl screamed. I started my car and casually drove a quarter-mile to our dorm.
I waited just a few minutes in our room before he silently opened the door and slipped inside. He turned toward me, breathing hard and laughing. I threw him his clothes, then fell howling onto my bed.
“Tell me about it,” I said with anticipation.
Mike continued to gasp as he dressed.
“When I ran past the girl at the door, she screamed.”
“I heard that.”
“Several girls stuck their heads out their doors, then also screamed when they saw me naked. Ha, ha. I zigzagged through the first floor, hoping a Smithy wouldn’t react to the noise. I crashed through the hall door, surprising the guard. He jumped from his chair, yelling in shock. I didn’t slow down as I sped through the lobby, threw open the front door, and ran toward this side of campus. I heard him yell for me to stop.”
“Yeah, right,” I said.
“When I rounded the backside of the dorm, I almost ran into another Smithy talking on his radio. I dodged him and hauled ass. Across campus I ran, passing another Smithy, then into shadows behind this dorm. After waiting for another Smithy to run past me with his radio crackling, I snuck up our back stairs, and here I am.”
We laughed and laughed.
After we calmed down, Mike said, “Time for a beer.”
“You earned it. A pitcher at the Crystal Pistol is calling us.”
“That pitcher is mine. Buy your own beer,” he said with a smirk. “Now, don’t you tell people at the bar what I did. I’m sure campus will be in an uproar tomorrow.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
In the corner of the club a short time later, we tapped beer mugs together in a toast to streaking. A beer never tasted so good. We giggled the night away, reliving Trinity’s first streak.
The next day, gossip spread around campus as girls from Lightner spread the word about a streaker in their dorm. Mike and I listened silently, wondering where the streaking craze would go from here. I found out a few days later when one of my fraternity brothers pulled me aside in a cafeteria.
“You heard about the streaker?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. Somebody was brave,” I replied with a laugh.
“A group streak event is being organized for Wednesday night. News reporters will be there to film us outside of Isabel dorm. You gotta join us.”
I couldn’t keep a straight face.
“That would be fun, but my grandparents live here in town. If they see me naked on the news, they’ll have a heart attack.”
“You wimp.”
“Yes, I am. I’ll be there cheering for you.”
Wednesday night, March 6, 1974, I joined a stream of people walking across campus to Lightner Dorm. As we walked past the football field, I was surprised to see hundreds of students gathered in a parking lot outside the dorm. News trucks were shining spotlights on girls crowded on Lightner balconies where they played music and waved at friends. Excitement flowed through students like electricity as a fantastic party began. Laughter and noise enveloped the crowd. Smithies watched from afar, not knowing what would happen or what to do.
I found Mike with about 50 guys drinking beer behind Lightner.
“Hey, Mike,” I said. “What are ya’ll going to do?”
“The news reporters are expecting something to happen at 8:00. All of us will streak out front at the same time. Are you going to streak with us?” Mike asked.
Fellows around us cheered as they drank false courage.
“You’ll be on TV, and the Smithies will see you,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, so will all the girls.”
“Do you think you’ll get in trouble?”
“They can’t bust all of us,” Mike said, laughing. “Come join us and stay in the middle of the group where no one can identify you.”
I noticed guys getting quiet as they contemplated doing something foolish and exciting, starting with taking off their clothes.
“Nooo. My family will see me on TV.”
“Chicken,” Mike replied.
I backed away from the group and watched herd mentality take over.
“Five minutes, guys,” Mike yelled. “Take your clothes off.”
As they stripped, I walked to the front of the dorm, where chaos reigned. News trucks shined spotlights on a noisy crowd that had grown to around 500 students. Girls on dorm patios danced provocatively, shedding some of their clothes. The crowd applauded as sexual energy filled the air. A roar of approval began when naked guys entered the street. Noisy support emboldened 40 nervous streakers ready to make history.
Boisterous students chanted, “Streak, streak, streak.”
I climbed a brick wall for a better view. Mike turned to his streakers, swung his fist, and pointed at the news reporters. Ten brave guys began a slow trot in front of the dorm. Students went crazy watching naked boys running with their clothes bundled in their hands. People parted like the Red Sea to let streakers pass in front of Lightner, run past reporters, and disappear to the back of the dorm. Better them than me.
Grinning Smithies stood back, watching helplessly. A minute later, fifteen more streakers began their journey. The crowd roared approval for the second round of flesh. That looked easier this time. When the last group of naked boys ran their route, the crowd whipped themselves into a frenzy, sounding like a touchdown scored in a stadium.
Maybe I could of, should of, streaked with them. In a way, a touchdown did occur for a previously inconceivable event that would have led to jail before tonight.
After the excitement slowed, students left for the Crystal Pistol to buy beer for brave streakers, now campus heroes. The bar became unexpectedly packed with celebrants on a Wednesday night. Cheers erupted when a bar television showed streakers at Trinity on local ten o’clock news. The party lasted until closing time as audacious evening events were relived many times.
Two days later, we left for Spring Break. During that week, streaking erupted on campuses across the country. A few brave boys went to jail in conservative towns, but boys (not girls) were allowed to indulge in a harmless craze at most colleges.
Like a bottle rocket, the streaking fad erupted in a fast flight up, lasted a week or two, then faded away just like that. When I returned from Spring Break, streaking was over, relegated to history books as a brief frenzy of 70s youthful freedom.
Streaking(Gordon England)
Streaking
“Hey, Mike,” I said to my roommate at Trinity University one night in the spring of 1974. “Have you heard about streaking?”
“What’s that?”
“The newest craze around the country.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Basically, it’s running around nude in public.”
“What?”
“My cousin called to tell me about a guy who streaked at his high school graduation. A graduate ran across the stage naked, shocking people so much that he made it out the back door without getting caught.”
Mike broke out laughing.
“Guys are streaking at campuses across the country and even at a soccer game in England. The fans went wild.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Mike asked with an eyebrow raised.
“No one has streaked in San Antonio yet.”
He paused to think. Mike consistently did wild stunts around campus. I knew I had his interest.
“Someone has to be first.” Mike grinned
“Yes, they do.”
A familiar conspiracy took root between us.
“I could make it worth someone’s while,” I said.
“How worth a while?”
“Depends on where someone streaked. Why don’t we take a ride and think about it?”
Mike grabbed a ski mask just in case. We hopped into my car and drove around looking for nighttime trouble. Our small campus only had a few places to find people at night. Dorms were primary targets where other kids would see a streaker. We had boy dorms and girl dorms. Running through a boy dorm would draw little interest. However, streaking a girls’ dorm sounded adventurous. Especially because girl’s dorms stayed locked at night to keep boys out. The challenge would be getting past the Smithy (a private guard from Smith Security Services) guarding the front door. He would not open his door for a naked kid. But a Smithy was not at the locked back door.
I pulled into a parking lot near Lightner Dorm’s rear door.
“Presuming I could get in and out without being caught, what would be my reward?” Mike asked seriously. “It would have to be worth maybe getting caught.”
“Hmm,” I thought about how much money I had on me. Not much, but it would be worth it. “How about two beers?”
The universal tender in college.
“Now you’re talking,” Mike said. “We just have to wait here until a girl opens the back door. I’ll run in behind her, down the hall, past their Smithy, and out the front door.”
“It’s a deal,” I said with a laugh. Streaking would be his most outrageous stunt yet, bringing fame on campus if he pulled it off.
“On one condition,” he said with a straight face. “You better be out there to pick me up.”
“No way. Smithies know my car.”
“How am I supposed to get back to the dorm?” Mike asked.
“Run.”
“All the way across campus?”
Maybe 400 to 500 yards at our exclusive private school.
“Yes.”
“There will be several Smithies patrolling campus.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be running faster than them,” I said with a knowing grin.
“You’re right about that. This streak will cost you a pitcher of Michelob.”
I cringed. “Well, okay. Here comes a girl in the lot. You better take your clothes off.”
I wanted to push him out my door before he changed his mind. Mike stripped, throwing his clothes into my back seat.
“Put your shoes back on,” I said.
“Oh yeah.”
Wearing only his shoes, a ski mask, and holding his room key, Mike left my car to crouch behind a bush while he waited for the girl to open her dorm’s back door with a key. When she did, I watched his white backside run and grab the door before it closed. He disappeared inside. A girl screamed. I started my car and casually drove a quarter-mile to our dorm.
I waited just a few minutes in our room before he silently opened the door and slipped inside. He turned toward me, breathing hard and laughing. I threw him his clothes, then fell howling onto my bed.
“Tell me about it,” I said with anticipation.
Mike continued to gasp as he dressed.
“When I ran past the girl at the door, she screamed.”
“I heard that.”
“Several girls stuck their heads out their doors, then also screamed when they saw me naked. Ha, ha. I zigzagged through the first floor, hoping a Smithy wouldn’t react to the noise. I crashed through the hall door, surprising the guard. He jumped from his chair, yelling in shock. I didn’t slow down as I sped through the lobby, threw open the front door, and ran toward this side of campus. I heard him yell for me to stop.”
“Yeah, right,” I said.
“When I rounded the backside of the dorm, I almost ran into another Smithy talking on his radio. I dodged him and hauled ass. Across campus I ran, passing another Smithy, then into shadows behind this dorm. After waiting for another Smithy to run past me with his radio crackling, I snuck up our back stairs, and here I am.”
We laughed and laughed.
After we calmed down, Mike said, “Time for a beer.”
“You earned it. A pitcher at the Crystal Pistol is calling us.”
“That pitcher is mine. Buy your own beer,” he said with a smirk. “Now, don’t you tell people at the bar what I did. I’m sure campus will be in an uproar tomorrow.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
In the corner of the club a short time later, we tapped beer mugs together in a toast to streaking. A beer never tasted so good. We giggled the night away, reliving Trinity’s first streak.
The next day, gossip spread around campus as girls from Lightner spread the word about a streaker in their dorm. Mike and I listened silently, wondering where the streaking craze would go from here. I found out a few days later when one of my fraternity brothers pulled me aside in a cafeteria.
“You heard about the streaker?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. Somebody was brave,” I replied with a laugh.
“A group streak event is being organized for Wednesday night. News reporters will be there to film us outside of Isabel dorm. You gotta join us.”
I couldn’t keep a straight face.
“That would be fun, but my grandparents live here in town. If they see me naked on the news, they’ll have a heart attack.”
“You wimp.”
“Yes, I am. I’ll be there cheering for you.”
Wednesday night, March 6, 1974, I joined a stream of people walking across campus to Lightner Dorm. As we walked past the football field, I was surprised to see hundreds of students gathered in a parking lot outside the dorm. News trucks were shining spotlights on girls crowded on Lightner balconies where they played music and waved at friends. Excitement flowed through students like electricity as a fantastic party began. Laughter and noise enveloped the crowd. Smithies watched from afar, not knowing what would happen or what to do.
I found Mike with about 50 guys drinking beer behind Lightner.
“Hey, Mike,” I said. “What are ya’ll going to do?”
“The news reporters are expecting something to happen at 8:00. All of us will streak out front at the same time. Are you going to streak with us?” Mike asked.
Fellows around us cheered as they drank false courage.
“You’ll be on TV, and the Smithies will see you,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, so will all the girls.”
“Do you think you’ll get in trouble?”
“They can’t bust all of us,” Mike said, laughing. “Come join us and stay in the middle of the group where no one can identify you.”
I noticed guys getting quiet as they contemplated doing something foolish and exciting, starting with taking off their clothes.
“Nooo. My family will see me on TV.”
“Chicken,” Mike replied.
I backed away from the group and watched herd mentality take over.
“Five minutes, guys,” Mike yelled. “Take your clothes off.”
As they stripped, I walked to the front of the dorm, where chaos reigned. News trucks shined spotlights on a noisy crowd that had grown to around 500 students. Girls on dorm patios danced provocatively, shedding some of their clothes. The crowd applauded as sexual energy filled the air. A roar of approval began when naked guys entered the street. Noisy support emboldened 40 nervous streakers ready to make history.
Boisterous students chanted, “Streak, streak, streak.”
I climbed a brick wall for a better view. Mike turned to his streakers, swung his fist, and pointed at the news reporters. Ten brave guys began a slow trot in front of the dorm. Students went crazy watching naked boys running with their clothes bundled in their hands. People parted like the Red Sea to let streakers pass in front of Lightner, run past reporters, and disappear to the back of the dorm. Better them than me.
Grinning Smithies stood back, watching helplessly. A minute later, fifteen more streakers began their journey. The crowd roared approval for the second round of flesh. That looked easier this time. When the last group of naked boys ran their route, the crowd whipped themselves into a frenzy, sounding like a touchdown scored in a stadium.
Maybe I could of, should of, streaked with them. In a way, a touchdown did occur for a previously inconceivable event that would have led to jail before tonight.
After the excitement slowed, students left for the Crystal Pistol to buy beer for brave streakers, now campus heroes. The bar became unexpectedly packed with celebrants on a Wednesday night. Cheers erupted when a bar television showed streakers at Trinity on local ten o’clock news. The party lasted until closing time as audacious evening events were relived many times.
Two days later, we left for Spring Break. During that week, streaking erupted on campuses across the country. A few brave boys went to jail in conservative towns, but boys (not girls) were allowed to indulge in a harmless craze at most colleges.
Like a bottle rocket, the streaking fad erupted in a fast flight up, lasted a week or two, then faded away just like that. When I returned from Spring Break, streaking was over, relegated to history books as a brief frenzy of 70s youthful freedom.
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- 9
CJ Casner
02/25/2023Oh what memories. I was at a large university that spring. The brief frenzy grew from a few cross-campus runs, to block long street partys doen Beaver Ave. and a memorable rugby match (socks against no socks), Imagine the scrum.
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CJ Casner
02/25/2023Fun read
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Martha Hume
10/05/2022Congratulations on being chosen Story star of the day. Your streaking story carried me back down memory lane.
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Valerie Allen
01/30/2022Gordon ~
Well, what a bunch of naughty boys! Glad you had some good sense. I remeber the newspapers' coverage and the outrage of parents-spending good money and their kids were doing this kind of thing! I guess each generation has its own craziness goin' on. Fun story, well done my friend.
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Gordon England
10/06/2022Valerie. We were at a private school of spoiled rich kids who could do no wrong. I called my parents and told them to watch on TV. In the 70s we could care less what parents thought :)
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Gerald R Gioglio
01/26/2022Right, the absurd part of the 'his-story ' of the time...ahh...should be 'fully covered'...?
Couldn't resist, thanks Gordon.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
01/24/2022This was a really fun story! Congratulations on short story star of the week.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
10/04/2022This was a great retelling of your younger escapades. Congratulations on short story star of the day!
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Gordon England
01/24/2022I am so glad you read my stories and give me nice comments. That is what I write for
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JD
11/11/2021That was a lot of FUN, Gordon. Thanks for sharing your memories and youthful antics with us. It reminds me of a few events.... I think the only time I saw streakers was riding up the chairlift at a ski mountain in Alberta, while streaking males were skiing down. That must have been a really COLD adventure for them! That happened on two separate occasions, once with a single male streaker, and another time with two of them. Both events were priceless and delightful! : )
Another 'memory' was one I didn't experience myself, just heard about after the fact. While attending Point Loma College in San Diego in the 80's, a bunch of girls decided to run through the male dorm late one night. They created such a ruckus with so many of them stampeding through the dorm and shaking the whole building after many of the guys had gone to bed, that apparently some of the sleepy boys thought it was a major earthquake and went running out of their dorm rooms in their birthday suits, terrified the building was about to collapse....
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Lillian Kazmierczak
11/10/2021Oh that was a fun read! I remember the streaking...my first naked man sighting was a streaker. That really fizzled out quick. I love that you were there to give us this first hand account.
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Kevin Hughes
10/09/2021Gordon,
I have Jim Stafford's version of "The Streak" going through my head now. "Look out Ethel, he's over by the Tomatoes." It was a different time. LOL Thanks for the memories.
Smiles, Kevin
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Valerie Allen
01/30/2022I'm with you on the song! It was the first thing that went through my head (well maybe the second thing!)
COMMENTS (12)