Undie Run founders discuss the beginnings of the finals week tradition

Eric Whitehead’s decision to run through the streets of Westwood in underwear was a “strictly legal decision.”

“They can’t arrest you for running around in your underwear,” he said. “It’s basically the least amount of clothing you can pass on the street without getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

Whitehead, a 2004 alumnus, said he wasn’t happy with increased police enforcement of noise restraints during the winter quarter of his sophomore year at UCLA.

It was finals week, winter 2002, and he was restless.

“The idea basically came from a lack of being able to do anything else really,” Whitehead said. “They weren’t letting us stand on our stoop (at my apartment) and yell, they weren’t letting people on the sidewalks, they said we couldn’t loiter and were essentially telling people to get back in their apartments.”

“One of the only things they would let us do is run around in the streets,” he said.

From there, Undie Run was born.

But on Tuesday, the university announced the young ritual will no longer be allowed on UCLA’s campus.

Citing concerns of vandalism, student safety and too much outside student involvement, associate vice chancellor and dean of students Robert Naples said in a statement that costs due to damage and police staffing have increased over the years.

“What started out as a UCLA student tradition to relieve stress during finals has turned into a free-for-all event attracting large numbers of people who are not affiliated with UCLA and who have demonstrated they have little consideration for the well-being of our students or the surrounding community,” Naples said in the statement.

Somehow, the tradition founded by Whitehead and only 12 of his friends has turned into something of a regular chaotic occasion, now attracting upwards of 10,000 people both affiliated to the university and not.

“Basically when I first started doing it, I had these shorts from when I was probably about 10 years old,” Whitehead said.

“I was surprised they still fit and they were pretty short. I mean they weren’t revealing anything, but they were pretty short.”

Whitehead liked to wear his shorts, a favorite jacket of his and play his guitar in the streets to attract attention. One day, a friend suggested he strip all the way down to his underwear, and he happily accepted the idea.

“It was fun, I had been walking around in those shorts and people were on their balcony cheering me on,” he said. “It was cool, there was a lot of support and there were a lot of people screaming and cheering me on and it was fun and definitely encouraging.”

He said many other students were also upset that police were being so strict.

“It was good for other people to see someone sort of taking up the Midnight Yell cause and really trying to keep it going,” he said.

Exposed Liberation

It’s “hard to say” why 13 sophomore boys would choose to strip to their underwear to find relief from studying for finals, according to Brad Greenberg, a 2004 alumnus, one of the original undie-runners and former Daily Bruin business editor.

“Underwear is funny. “¦ There’s something childish or humorous about underwear,” Greenberg said.

The first time he and roommate Whitehead ran through the streets of Glenrock in their underwear, it was “really organic.”

The event wasn’t planned, and Whitehead and friends didn’t think the run would turn into much of anything.

“Eric thought it was his responsibility as a college student to respond, so he was sort of having fun with it,” Greenberg said.

The first group of guys who initiated the traditions all lived at 533 Glenrock Ave. It included the roommates’ older brothers, a couple friends and some of their neighbors.

“We ran down to the corner at Levering where 555 is, turned around, ran to the top of the street and then back in front of our apartments,” he said, describing the first route.

“At this point, the first year we did it, I don’t remember a lot of people noticing. Some people went out on their balcony, we got some cat calls,” he continued. “But the next quarter we did it, we were targets for people with water balloons.”

Spectators barraged the group of underwear clad boys with beer- and water-filled balloons and even broke out paint balls. Greenberg said one of his buddies who did the run was lucky to be wearing a straw hat, because he was the target of a paint ball.

“I can still see the green paint splatter,” Greenberg said.

Small beginnings

Little did the boys know that seven years later, more than 10,000 people would continue their ritual.

“After the first run, we really started trying to market it and get more people involved,” Whitehead said. “I would say the next year it really wasn’t that big, maybe 30 people. But it started growing exponentially, which was really interesting. Once it got to 20 or 30 people, word spread really quickly.”

He found it fascinating how fast the tradition grew.

“A year later it was still pretty small, maybe 20, 30, 50 people. But after it hit that mark, it was like 200 people; the quarter after that like 500, and by the time we graduated it was maybe 1,000,” he said.

Over the years, the route of the run changed, transferring to Landfair and then closer and closer to campus. Now, the event has turned into something of a chaotic mess.

Boys in boxers, girls in lacey underwear and even more scandalous get-ups are common. Proper attire for the event is to dress down ““ way down.

But the real problem about the run isn’t its risque nature.

University officials have expressed concern that outsiders are common at the event, vandalism even more common and alcohol-consumption is high.

One year, an orange traffic cone was throne through a Powell Library window. Cars have been damaged, and students are often found sick or injured.

USAC facilities commissioner Tim Mullins said he agreed that there are dangers inherent in Undie Run.

“What really happened is the event grew,” he said. “When it was small, and this is my speculation, is that they didn’t see much a problem with it. But when it’s a several thousand student audience, that’s when the problem arises.”

Though the run began in Westwood Village, it has inched closer and closer to campus over the past few years.

The past three facilities commissioners have worked with the university to regulate the changes.

Mullins, along with General Representative Addison Huddy and Jason Tengco, have been working with the administration to find a solution to the problems over past weeks.

They were notified of the decision to cancel the event at Tuesday’s USAC meeting. The announcement came as a shock to them, and Mullins said they were “blindsided.”

In The God Blog, Greenberg’s JewishJournal.com online column, Greenberg mentioned that he finds it “funny” that the university made the announcement to cancel Undie Run in the middle of the summer, when he said there are a minimal amount of students around.

“It’s like right in the middle of the summer. “¦ They couldn’t have picked more of a lull in the school year,” he said, questioning why the university chose to cancel it now, when they’ve been threatening for years to cancel the run.

“I just kind of felt like this is a really cowardice way for the university to tell the student body,” he added. “I don’t even think it’s an effective way. I don’t see how they’re going to prevent the students from running in their underwear.”

Naples is out of town and chose not to comment beyond the statement published online to announce the university’s decision. And UCLA spokeswoman Elizabeth Kivowitz said no further information is available at this time.

The university has taken a really “parental” approach over the Undie Run, according to Greenberg.

Mullins said he was “outraged” that the decision had been made without his and other USAC leaders’ consultation, and he said he had no idea the decision would be made in the middle of the summer.

“That’s the worst thing about it: You would think as student government, we would be able to get some sort of insight on it,” he said.

Though Mullins said he understands that the university has to protect itself, the real problem is that “they decided on an issue that’s of great importance to students, without giving students a chance to speak.”

Shared governance, Mullins said, is a principle that was created at UCLA.

“That basically means students come together with administrators ““ they’re both at the table to make important decisions, like picking things like the chancellor and issues of great student-importance like this,” he said.

Future Uncertainty

It was immediately apparent that students were shocked and surprised to hear of the demise of the tradition.

Facebook statuses changed quickly following the university’s announcement, expressing many students’ dissatisfaction with the decision.

Mullins and other students have said rather than cancelling Undie Run, they want to continue searching for solutions.

Drew Dushkes, for instance, created a Facebook group not long after the announcement was made. The group, “Save Undie Run,” soon attracted more than 1,200 members and still seems to be growing. He explains how students can email the administration and brainstorm solutions.

“It’s just for people to get their voice out there,” said Dushkes, a third-year global studies, accounting and geography student. “It’s for them to email the chancellor “¦ and it’s a place where I can sort of gather all the information.”

Calling the tradition “counter-culture,” Dushkes said the event allows him and fellow Bruins to reject the normal day-to-day grind.

“It’s sort of like letting loose,” Dushkes said. “People like to do it to relieve the stress they have.”

The counter-culture comes into play, he said, in that UCLA’s tradition Undie Run was started by students and was continued by students.

“It started here and it’s a great way to gather and do something you wouldn’t do at any other part of your life,” he added. “It’s a really unique time in our lives.”

Greenberg, however, don’t seem to think the event is really deceased. He suggested that perhaps the event will devolve as Midnight Yell originally did, turning into something entirely different.

“Maybe something new and organic will evolve out of it,” he said.

Whitehead is in New York working as an actor and isn’t planning to return to the university. But Greenberg is returning to UCLA this year to attend the School of Law. He said he doesn’t plan to run, but he hopes to see the now-cancelled tradition salvaged in some way.

“I wasn’t going to run anyway, but I was excited to see it happen,” he said.

Though there’s no immediate timeline for continued discussion of the event, Mullins said he and fellow USAC members continue to brainstorm.

“We can come up with a thousand grand ideas, it’s just a matter of which are most feasible,” he said. “Our goal really is to give our students the best deal possible, whatever that may be, and I’m confident that isn’t the cancellation of Undie Run.

Whitehead commented that university police cannot really arrest people for continuing to run.

“They can arrest people for vandalism, they can arrest people for all sorts of other things, but can they really arrest people for gathering in one spot sort of randomly and running, as long as they aren’t causing people trouble?” he asked.

“And if they aren’t pushing the cops around, if they aren’t trying to incite some disorderly conduct or a riot, police really have no grounds to arrest people.”

Whitehead added that it will be hard to enforce the university’s decision, adding that he wonders whether the event will change into something entirely new or if it will just relocate.

“It’ll be really interesting to see how it evolves,” he said. “It can be restricted to off campus, but that’s what it was in the first place.”