In 1973, five of my high school friends – Bobby, Jimmy, Mike, Kevin and Bob – and I headed out for our Great American Roadtrip to spend a weekend in Watkins Glen, NY for the Summer Jam to be held at the Watkins Glen Grand Prix Circuit (now called Watkins Glen International). We had purchased tickets and could not wait to see the newest rock festival featuring the Allman Brothers Band (one of our faves), along with the Grateful Dead and the Band.

We arrived and the crowd was a mob but a friendly one. Chaos everywhere, but no fear since we had packed plenty of food, beer and pot. It was to be a 24-hour event coming four years after the infamous Woodstock festival of 1969. The Summer Jam only featured and focused on these three bands as opposed to Woodstock which featured 32 different bands. But the crowd was counting on the incredible long jams each band was known for during their sets and of course, then the jams among players of all three groups interacting and playing with one another. Everyone knew the highlight would arrive when all three groups shared the stage in a true “summer jam.”

But this story is not just about Watkins Glen and its Summer Jam of 1973. It’s about what happened afterward. At Rudy’s Diner, and beyond.

Of course, we had a blast and the music was never-ending in a good way. Everyone was friendly and cooperative and the only death was an unfortunate skydiver who parachuted down toward the crowd with some type of flare. Something went terribly wrong and the parachutist died from being burned to death by his flare as he descended.

Beyond that tragedy, a great time was had by all and each of the groups made it an amazing weekend of music culminating with the super jam of the three combined groups.

When it came time to leave, we packed up our tents and sleeping bags and coolers and our hangovers and weakly trudged back to the car, parked far away somewhere closer to town. Finally, we located the car (miracle), packed the trunk (in those days of 1973, cars had real trunks) and we climbed in (seating for six teens was easy in the car Bobby and Jimmy commandeered from their dad: a 1970 Buick Le Sabre 455).

It was a Sunday morning and we all had cotton and bile in our mouths and throats from all the partying we had done during the concert. We drove off and shortly realized that we were in dire need of food. We found an off-road and on a big sweeping curve, there was a sign that said, Rudy’s Diner. We had all been faithful diner denizens back home after a night of bar-hopping and so this was a good sign. So we pulled in.

You can get anything you want

At Alice’s Restaurant.

No, wrong vibe, but it’s a weird parallel to the classic anthem by Arlo Guthrie.

Anyway, we grabbed some seats at the counter and Rudy comes over and we all order coffee for starters, then begin perusing the breakfast menu. There were a lot of egg specials and that seemed the best bet so we all made our selections and in a little bit, we began to dig in to some of the best breakfast combos as they arrived.

After a while, Rudy came over and began some small talk with us and we revealed that we had just been at the Watkins Glen concert. Rudy began ruminating. First a word here, a word there. Then a sentence. We were just trying to recover from the day and night before and go home but Rudy was just getting started. At first, he was marveling that so many people had come to his little corner of the world. He was talking about lots of people gathering and having fun. And he was saying that was a “good thing, so many people, together.” Keep in mind that Woodstock’s crowd was estimated at 400,000 while Watkins Glen ended up entertaining more than 600,000 people.

Anyway, Rudy kept going on and we were just burying our faces in our eggs and hash browns and bacon and toast which were quite good. And then the tipping point hit. There was an audible but subtle shift that happened right in front of us. While we were finishing up, Rudy began thinking about things a bit and all of a sudden, in place of saying “so many people” and “listening to music” and “good thing,” now he began rethinking things a bit. Then he began muttering “too many people” and he began going down some different type of rabbit hole.

He had been quite calm for a while but now, he was becoming agitated by the idea that a bunch of teens and young adults had traveled from afar just to listen to a bunch of rock music not far from his diner. I’m sure that in his mind, he was conjuring up the words, hippies and maybe radicals or other pejoratives as he spoke to us.

As he began focusing on the idea of too many people, he reassembled his thoughts and right in front of us, as we were sitting on our stools, he leaned over and spread his arms wide and said to us: “And all for what?”

We all held our collective breath. And then Rudy delivered. He sneered at us, “Nothing!” Except the word came out as “Nussing!”

As he continued to become more animated, he eventually sat down on a stool on his side of the counter. He sat straddling the stool, facing us from only a few feet away and he stared at us as if we were now guilty in his courtroom of hash and omelets. I do not know how he served any other customers that morning since we were not the only ones there on a busy Sunday. But Rudy was now locked in. And he wasn’t ready to leave it all there.

He began repeating his rant and we began thinking of paying our check. Maybe, Rudy saw us as subversive longhairs now, not so much as customers. We all had to use the restroom, so we all settled up and used the Men’s Room, then got out as quickly as possible.

We got in the car and with a belly full of good diner food, we aimed the car back toward Long Island. After a mile or so, Bobby asked if anyone had noticed the bathroom graffiti. I’m not sure I did, probably since Bobby was in a different bathroom stall than I had been in.

Bobby started laughing and then repeated the graffiti he had seen on the bathroom wall: “Little Fat Bald Rudy sucks.” Stunned silence for a nano-second and then, of course, we all burst out in hysterics. We all repeated the line many times and that led to a discussion of Rudy’s rant and how he devolved from perceived approval of our weekend experience to distrust, then almost bashing our teenage innocence.

I am sure that as we pulled out of his parking lot, little fat bald Rudy just quietly shook his head in disgust as six college boys had nothing better to do than attend a rock concert. He seemed like a first generation immigrant with a slight hint of a European accent; I’m guessing Greek. Hence, his word “nothing” had come out as “nussing.” I am sure Rudy had probably always worked his ass off to run, then own this diner in his own name. Quite an achievement and we respected him and his diner.

But a switch went off in Rudy that day while we were there. Sure, there was a lot of dissension and anti-war fervor back in 1973 and I am sure that Rudy associated us with all the protests and anti-war slogans popular back then. But we were guilty only of attending a concert. Rudy woke up that day and wasn’t sure what he was seeing. And of course, he couldn’t be happy that one of his customers (not us) had desecrated his bathroom stall with graffiti making fun of him. Probably some hippie, in his mind. My guess, it was more likely a “townie” or local teen who had penned that little slur.

Over the years, we remembered the incident and the line from Rudy, “And all for what? Nothing.” (Or “nussing”). So, of course, when we would all be at a party in later years, the word “nussing” took us back down Memory Road to the entire Rudy experience.

Was it Rudy or was it us? Did little Rudy, King of his Diner, see something coming that we six 18 and 19 year-olds did not see that day after the rock festival ended and the 70s continued? Since it was 1973 and the U.S. had just signed the Paris Peace Accord on January 27, 1973 to pull us out of Viet Nam, perhaps Rudy felt that the youth of America had forced the nation’s hand to abandon the war. And with Watergate ramping up in the daily news cycle, perhaps Rudy was appalled that Nixon was in danger of losing control of his stewardship of the nation. Nixon didn’t resign until August 9, 1974, but the walls were beginning to crumble around him and his henchmen around the time we visited Rudy’s Diner.

So, Rudy, what’s it all for, anyway? You worked hard, prepared great food, ran a nice little diner. You got your American Dream. I do not know what happened to you, Rudy, or your diner. I tried doing a search but the sands of time have taken care of that. After all, you were pre-internet and I cannot find any traces of your diner or your story beyond that day.

As for my friends, the six of us were still green, still figuring out where we were headed (besides back to our parents’ houses on Long Island). Rudy might have seen six ne’er-do-wells or radicals or lefties or subversives or whatever he thought of us. But we all turned out quite well as we all gradually advanced in our respective successful careers and now, retirements, with all the benefits and trimmings. One doctor, two engineers, a lawyer, a market research pro and me, a Marketing Director.

Between 1973 and now, the six of us have witnessed so much more than any of us could ever have predicted back in 1973. The world has turned upside down several times since then and we all rolled with it. Marriages, after a few years came kids, career ups and downs along the way, but all of us ending on the upside .

In the final analysis, we went to the Summer Jam for the music and it was great. The Allman Brothers Band? Well, Gregg and Dicky are now gone. (Duane died in 1971 before Watkins Glen was even a consideration). The Grateful Dead and the Band survive in splinters due to other key members (Gerry Garcia, Robbie Robertson) leaving the planet. We had paradise for a weekend back then, grooving along with the other 600,000 concert goers.

And Rudy occasionally remains in my memory. Not all the time. But if he had not uttered his line, “All for what?”, he would hardly be remembered by any of the six of us. But that breakfast, wow. That was a morning after. We did not know what we were in for when we pulled into the diner that day. I know that Rudy never again thought of us after that weekend. We were just another revolving door of paying customers, just another bunch of meal orders to keep his business afloat.

So, we’ve never forgotten Rudy or his diner. I sincerely hope Rudy did okay. My friends are all the better for that one strange breakfast. Memories have a way of putting strange events in perspective.

And Rudy, just so you know, it was not for nothing. There was a movement growing in 1973, from well before that time, stretching back to the 60s. And many Americans, especially Baby Boomers like the six of us, rode that movement into a wave and collectively, helped change the world. We eventually were given the keys to drive the country forward and whether you agree or disagree, our country is a better place.

Yeah, we survived, and so did the rest of the country. Things are a whole lot different from 1973. Some want to see us return to the past (or the “Good Old Days”). Good luck with that. I’ll take the progress and the mistakes that have occurred since then.

I like to think Rudy is somewhere, probably in his mid 80s, hopefully happy with all that happened in his lifetime. But if he is sour or unhappy with his life, then unfortunately, for him, it was all for “nussing.”

Chris Ebel
9/9/24

Photo credit: @amplify