The title is mostly to get your attention. What kind of perverts do you think we were? Of course, technically it is the truth. The mascot of Stephen F. Austin State University is the lumberjack, so clean up your minds, you weirdoes.
In the early '70s an activity known as streaking became popular. For the two of you that don't know what I'm talking about, it was and is the practice of running naked (nekkid for us Texans) through some public place to show people that you are a free spirit, in touch with nature and your inner self, and that you are an idiot. We would occasionally see reports on the news of streaking incidents around the country, but we never thought it would be tolerated in a conservative community such as Nacogdoches. That all changed in March of 1974.
We had one week of school left before we got out for spring break, so studying and attending class weren't high on our list of priorities. Every teacher made sure to give at least one exam that week to keep us honest. I was living at the Rio del Oro apartments with Eugene May, John Harold Allen, Ken Craycraft and Charlie Jackson at the time. One of our group had heard a rumor of a student streaking in the cafeteria over the weekend. Any rumor of public nudity naturally piqued our interest.
Monday after class I ran into a girl from Crockett who lived in the largest dorm on campus. Her roommate was also from Crockett. She said some students had streaked in the street in front of her dorm on Sunday night, or so she had heard. I told her to call us if she saw it happening, and she said she would. I relayed the information to my roommates when I returned home.
On Tuesday night everyone was studying except Ken and me. Eugene and John Harold had gone to the library and Charlie was holed up in his room. Ken and I were watching tv and bitching about having nothing to do. The phone rang and I answered. It was the girl from Crockett I had spoken to on Monday. She said, "If you want to see some streakers you had better come to our dorm quickly. There are dozens of people streaking up and down the street and more kids are joining them by the minute." Ken and I dove into his Grand Prix and were on campus in record time.
The street in front on the dorm was completely blocked by a large crowd when we arrived, so we turned into the parking lot behind the building. The two girls from Crockett were out front, so we made our way over to talk with them. Suddenly at least a dozen girls and three guys ran past us, NEKKID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We stood there and stared as another group ran past. Our dream had come true.
We asked the two Crockett girls if they were going to streak? In unison they said "Hell no!" We stood with them and watched as students streaked by us.
A naked blonde girl came trotting by holding hands with some naked male hippie. Each had a T-shirt and a pair of shorts in the other hand. They stopped in front of us and the girl started talking to the two Crockett girls. All three lived on the same floor. She asked if we would join them and streak. We all said no. Ken, never one to pass up an opportunity to party, immediately invited both of them to a bash at our apartment. He told them our address and provided directions. The two girls from Crockett said they would go with us for a little while if we would bring them back. At that moment we figured we would all sit around the apartment and tell the others about what had happened and blow up the story beyond all reality.
As we crossed the parking lot we saw Archie Meyer, one of the SFA basketball players. He was married and lived in the couples housing nearby. He had been curious as to the source of all the excitement and had been staring at all the women racing by him. He was a big black guy and stood about six and a half feet tall. SFA had to break all kinds of rules to recruit him and would spend the next two years on probation for it, but that is another story. We didn't know him personally, but Ken yelled "Hey Archie! We are having a party at Rio del Oro if you want to come!" Archie said "Hell yes!" Ken gave him our address and we drove away, never really expecting anyone would show up.
It was after ten p.m. when the four of us got to the apartment. Eugene and John Harold were back from the library and Charlie was in his room studying. Ken and I began to give a glowing account of what we had seen. The two Crockett girls just sat quietly. Unbelievably Eugene and John Harold had doubts about our stories. Five minutes later we were at least partially vindicated.
There was a knock at our door. Eugene opened it and there stood Archie Meyer. We had all seen him play on many occasions, so Eugene and John Harold instantly recognized him. Ken and I introduced him like we were all homies from the hood. Archie immediately started talking about all the naked women running up and down the street. Ken and I said we were sure some were religious women because they had such hairy krishnas.
Our door opened and the blonde and the hippie walked in and sat down on the floor. They were each wearing shorts and a T-shirt. We introduced them as the two streakers we had been talking about. Finally the skeptical assholes began to believe us.
The blonde girl took control of the conversation. She began to tell us what a uplifting experience it was to be nude in public. All the males in attendance could certainly vouch for that. She then turned to the hippie and introduced herself. They had gotten together half an hour earlier to run naked around the campus, but had never officially met. She then said, "We should all be free of our inhibitions and take off our clothes right now."
With that she stood up, dropped her shorts and took off her shirt and stood before us totally nude. The hippie did likewise. We didn't look his direction, but she had a body that would make you set fire to an old folks home and beat the survivors in the head with a shovel as they ran out if she asked you to. (Credit author Joe R. Lansdale for that observation in Freezer Burn). She had a very plain face, but in truth we weren't looking that high up. As she continued to speak about the joy she got from being nude we all began to have an uplifting experience again. We stared at her like two fried eggs in a slop bucket. We weren't about to take our clothes off .
The blonde seemed a little put out that only the hippie stripped on her command. She asked if anyone wanted to go with her to streak the apartment complex, and only the hippie joined her. Hand in hand they walked out and left their clothes on our floor, so we expected them to return shortly.
After they closed the door we sat and looked at each other for at least a minute, not knowing if we had really seen what had transpired. Archie Meyer then started saying over and over, "I know what I've been seeing but I ain't believing it!" Finally we started talking about both of them like they were freaks.
Half an hour later the blonde and the hippie returned. He dressed and told her he had enjoyed himself, then he left. She sat down on the carpet Indian style and gave us all a good view. Archie Meyer was sitting by her about to go crazy. He might have been married, but in 1974 a black man from Mississippi didn't spend a lot of time sitting around on the floor talking to naked blonde women. She stretched out on the floor and said she was tired. He lay beside her and put an arm around her. She let him do it, but made it clear that was all she would tolerate.
It was getting late and everyone was getting tired. The excitement of a naked blonde sleeping on our floor was starting to wear off. The two girls from Crockett were sitting at each end of the couch and were sound asleep. One by one everyone went to bed. Archie Meyer realized he wasn't going to get any goodies, so he got up and went home.
Sometime in the night the blonde went down the hall to the bathroom, then wandered into the back bedroom where a certain anonymous roommate was sleeping. He woke up, and like the gentlemen he is, offered her a place to warm her beaver. Like the old joke goes, she offered her honor and he honored her offer. All night long it was honor, offer, honor, offer. When he got up the next morning she was gone. I was sure I heard him hacking in the bathroom like he was coughing up a lung. We asked him if he had a hair stuck in his throat? Some even suggested he might be suffering from the classic Texas hangover. That is when you wake up with a lump in your throat and a string hanging out of your mouth. He said he was a little worried about catching something, so he got up after she left and doused himself with Listerine.
On Thursday night they held a "streak dance" in front of the dorm. So many people showed up to watch and so few showed up to streak it was a big letdown. We already had our big story to tell.