R.I.P. Andrew Martinez -- 'The Naked Guy' Hated the Hype

BERKELEY, Calif.--Last week an estranged man took his own life in prison -- but unlike the more than 1,200 suicides completed in confinement each year in the United States, this one will be remembered by many. Andrew Martinez had an a.k.a. to survive him: The Naked Guy.

Andrew became famous during my freshman year at UC Berkeley, in 1992. He wasn't hard to look at. He was a tall, lean man with lovely brown skin. On warm days, he'd stroll to campus wearing nothing but sandals and a backpack. When he got to class, he'd usually put on shorts before going inside. Media nationwide quickly picked up on the story, and he appeared in magazines and on several TV talk shows.

Andrew's cousin, whose name I don't remember now, lived in my dorm. She was a sweet girl, a good student from semi-rural California. She didn't tell people about her relation to this media star -- like him, she didn't appreciate or know what to do with his fame.

In my second year, I moved into the student co-op where Andrew lived among 80 other offbeat Berkeley students. I expected to feel intimidated by his passionate commitment to his cause, but by the time I met Andrew, he seemed to be struggling to keep the message of his nudity in his own voice.

The press and TV commentators used images of him to tell their own story. Rumors reformatted his words into political statements about our prudish American culture. I don't want to speak for Andrew, but all I ever understood was that he didn't want to wear clothes when it was warm out. His message wasn't "Ef you, I'm gonna walk around naked!" It was quieter, an invitation.

My most vivid memory of Andrew is his walking naked into the co-op dining room for breakfast with a plate of toast. He set the plate on the table, and his backpack on the floor. He pulled a small towel out of the backpack and placed it on the chair, with a dignified snap like a four-star restaurant waiter. Then he sat down to read the paper.

He cared about hygiene. Or, at least, he cared about our cares about hygiene. But he did this without being asked. He was respectful of us, his housemates, and he didn't seem mad at us for wearing clothes.

When I heard rumors later about his mental illness, I wondered what came first -- craziness, or fame?

Long after he left public nudity behind, Andrew was still sticking up for the principle of openness. He took out the concrete driveway at the co-op to create a garden. He felt entitled to eat out of the kitchen even after he'd moved out. I can picture a tug of war he had with the petite kitchen manager over a large block of cheese. Similar to how I read him on the nudity issue, he seemed simply to ask, "What's the big deal?"

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