Nude in the news: How a few minutes of nudity rocked my world
A spontaneous stand for nudity, captured and broadcast to the world
On October 2, 2012, I was running errands and minding my own business. It was a beautiful day in San Francisco. As I crossed Jane Warner Plaza, a tiny parklet at the busy intersection of Market and Castro streets, I noticed two unusual things. Firstly, a group of news photographers was lurking unobtrusively on a side street, and, secondly, no one in the plaza was naked.
You might not think it odd for a city park to be devoid of nudists, but for several years San Francisco had seen increased public nudity and Jane Warner Plaza was the epicenter of that phenomenon. I was among the regulars, often stripping down in the plaza to enjoy the sunshine while reading, eating a sandwich, or yakking with nude and clothed friends and neighbors. With the exception of a few strutting show-offs, our behavior wasn’t different from anyone else’s. We just happened to be naked.
At that time, an ambitious small-time politician by the name of Scott Wiener (you can’t make this stuff up) was gaining attention by promoting legislation to end legal public nudity in The City. Knowing that headlines involving nudity would attract attention, the local press jumped on the story. Various news outlets assigned staff to stake out the plaza and obtain photos and footage of nudists. Wary of being exploited by the press, we nudists were lying low. Having been thwarted for several days, the photographers had taken to hiding in hope of catching some unsuspecting naked person unaware.
I thought about this as I went to the ATM, the hardware store, and the pharmacy. Frankly, the whole thing pissed me off.
I am staunchly in favor of normalizing and promoting acceptance of simple, non-sexual nudity. In my opinion, we urban nudists (well, most of us) were doing nothing wrong. I resented that fear of being sensationalized by the press was keeping us from doing something that felt right and was perfectly legal. And, we were missing out on glorious weather.
Standing in the checkout line at the drug store, I made an impulsive decision to stand up for my beliefs. I would give them what they wanted. Before I could change my mind, I walked quickly back to Jane Warner Plaza. I found a chair within sight of the photographers. I took off my kilt and, like any well-behaved nudist, spread it over the seat as I had done dozens of times before. I sat down, pulled my T-shirt over my head, popped open a can of juice I’d bought as a prop, and braced myself. Within seconds, the photographers rushed into the plaza, taking pictures and jockeying for position. They clustered on one side of me in order to avoid being in each other’s shots. Feigning indifference to the cameras, I gazed into the distance. and obligingly crossed my legs; after all, these photos had to be suitable for the prudish mainstream press.
I had put myself in this situation without quite realizing how intense it would be. Moments after the photographers, video crews and on-camera reporters arrived. They asked questions. What was my name? Why was I doing this? Did I live in The City? I panicked, realizing that I wasn’t really prepared to be identified as “nudist Andy Tabbat” on the six o’clock news. Trying to appear calm, I stood up, got dressed, and simply walked away. They were still shouting questions.
Walking home with my shopping bag, I replayed the scene in my mind. Had I really done that? My mood ricocheted between incredulous giggles and horrified regret.
That afternoon a photo of me appeared in the San Francisco Examiner’s online edition with the caption, “A naked man takes in the warm weather Tuesday afternoon in the Castro. Nudity is legal in most of San Francisco.” To my relief, the article was fairly unbiased. It explained that, “State law currently does not ban the simple act of appearing in public naked — it only prohibits ‘lewd’ public behavior, leaving cities and counties to pass their own regulations. Bans on nudity already exist in The City’s parks and Port property, and Wiener’s legislation would expand them to include sidewalks, plazas, parklets and public transit. The law would allow nudity at parades and big annual events such as Bay to Breakers and, of course, the BDSM-themed Folsom Street Fair.” Later, I watched the local TV news with trepidation. No footage of me appeared (I was told it was used on subsequent days, but I’ve never actually seen any). I seemed to be getting off easy.
The next morning, while walking my dog, a self-service newspaper rack on the sidewalk caught my eye. There, on the front page of The Examiner’s print edition, was a large color picture of me. The headline, all in caps, shouted, WIENER OUT FOR PUBLIC NUDITY. I reminded myself that I had set out to make a statement. Well, here it was.
During the next few months, as the so-called “Wiener Bill” went through the process of becoming law, each development brought a new article. Many of the stories had a definite anti-nudity slant. For better or worse, I was usually the poster boy.
For the most part, I enjoyed the notoriety. Strangers gave thumbs up. A man on a crowded streetcar said, “Hey, it’s the naked guy!” A friend in a nearby suburb saw the photos in her town’s paper and called to ask how I was coping. Fellow nudists and supportive friends wondered why I hadn’t given my name. My answer: I wasn’t ready yet.
My flurry of news [un]coverage lasted almost four months, culminating in late January of 2013. The last word came in the form of an opinion piece in the progressive San Francisco Bay Guardian. Its headline gave me the biggest smile of that bizarre chapter of my life. Above the familiar image of me sitting there with my red cap and can of juice were the words, “Nudity ban upheld, found to be stupid.” 🪐
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Great story! Loved it!
I understand your feelings about public nudity. I share the simple desire to be nude wherever I choose to be. I wish I had the courage to be as forthright as you, being a shy very short old man. oh well, at least I can live naked at home and in my private yard.