Where's Bobby?

When I first met Bobby, I wondered if he was a sociology or anthropology student doing field research for a thesis. His antics were so out of the ordinary that I struggled to believe they were real. One night, much to the chagrin of the friend who had come to the Street with me, I summoned the courage to ask him about his theology. He shouted back a series of concepts that, in my opinion, were rather jumbled and self-contradictory. I never figured out whether he definitely went to Princeton, though I heard rumors that he was an economics major and I saw him wandering down the path next to Spelman Halls a few times.

This year, I have not seen Bobby once. I was worried that something had happened to him until Friday — more infamously known as sorority bid night — when around dinnertime I came upon three evangelists in their 50s offering an “Are you going to Heaven?” test. “Where’s Bobby?” I asked. One of the evangelists revealed that our boy is, in fact, engaged and in San Francisco.

As much as we have all been amused by Bobby, I think he played an important role on the Street. For starters, his tactics were excellent conversation starters. If you met someone new at a club and did not know what to say, you could at least draw on what that crazy guy on the corner had screamed about each of your religions or outfits.

More importantly, his presence made many of us pause while we were being debaucherous and reflect on our own behavior. When I started to write this column, I asked a few friends for Bobby anecdotes. None of them had interacted with him as much as I had, but many had memories of walking past him and feeling uncomfortable because his presence made them stop and think about the number of beers they had drunk or the rando they had kissed.

Now that Bobby is gone, we have lost a fanatic, but we have also lost a figure who makes us ask ourselves, albeit only for a nanosecond, “What am I doing?” The older gentlemen who have replaced him do not have nearly as strong a commitment to standing on Prospect Avenue anwd screaming at Princeton students. I have only seen them once — last Friday — and they did not even stay past dark.

Without Bobby, we need a new symbol that makes us check our behavior. Sure, many of us individually may not need it, but I think it is important for every society, including Princeton, to have a visible radical or reactionary who asks, “Why?” Just hearing that question makes us collectively strive to be better.

Who or what the new Bobby will be is beyond me. I am waiting to see what naturally evolves. In the meantime, to borrow a line from Scott McKenzie, “If you’re going to San Francisco,” keep an eye out for Bobby. Maybe you will find him preaching on a cable car or passing out “Get out of Hell free!” cards in the Haight-Ashbury district. If you see him, tell him that I send him and his fiancee my congratulations. Or, if you’re in a particularly ballsy mood, just say, “Mazel tov!”

Haley White is a Wilson School major from Chatham, N.J. She can be reached at hewhite@princeton.edu.