Subscribe to the Field Ethos Print Journal
6K
Stories of adventure and the coolest product releases delivered straight to your inbox
SUBSCRIBE
4 minute read
By John Warren
When you think about icons of rebellion, names like Johnny Rotten, Joey Ramone, or Iggy Pop might come to mind. But long before punk rock became synonymous with a raised middle finger to conformity, there was Robert Ruark—a writer whose life and work embodied the raw, untamed spirit of resistance. His words shook societal norms, his adventures defied polite convention, and his lifestyle—often fueled by booze, risk, and swagger—stood as a beacon of individual freedom in an increasingly sanitized world.
Born in 1915 in Wilmington, North Carolina, Ruark was a misfit in the traditional sense, but his rebellion was of a different breed—one that showed up on the page and in his unapologetically wild life. He graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill during the Great Depression, bouncing through a few odd jobs before finding his calling as a journalist. By the late 1940s and 1950s, he had become a celebrated columnist for The Washington Post and The New York World-Telegram and Sun. But it was his foray into books and magazine writing that really cemented the WW2 veteran Gunnery Officer’s legacy.
Breaking Through with the Grit of Africa
Ruark’s most well-known works, Something of Value and Uhuru, are fictional sagas set against the backdrop of British colonial East Africa. In these novels, he depicted the complexity and brutality of the Mau Mau Uprising. Something of Value hit hard and stayed rough—it wasn’t sanitized for the readers of 1955. It portrayed the deep cultural collisions between the native Kikuyu people and the European colonizers in ways that were emotionally searing and uncomfortably nuanced. It rejected the neatly packaged narratives of good versus evil, instead showing that the struggles of power, identity, and violence are never black and white.
These books were fierce critiques of colonialism and human nature, laced with a brutal honesty that was uncommon at the time. In Uhuru, Ruark carried that unfiltered energy, tackling post-independence Africa with the same sharp unblinking gaze. He was blunt, sometimes caustic, often controversial, and always unwilling to coddle comfort-seeking readers. He didn’t aim to please, only to provoke, and that in itself is where his spirit shined.
The Playboy Years: Sex, Satire, and Swagger
Ruark was also a recurring voice in Playboymagazine during its golden age—a time when the magazine was more than just a pin-up gallery but an intellectual space for dissidents, dreamers, and critics of the establishment. His columns in Playboy were often outrageous, hilariously blunt, and filled with that raucous spirit of independence. He addressed masculinity and relationships with a mix of gritty humor that was both entertaining and groundbreaking for the time. His prose swaggered off the page, offering unvarnished observations on topics from big game hunting to the pitfalls of modern society.
In Playboy, Ruark was at his most audacious. His pieces were equal parts charming raconteur and barroom philosopher, questioning the expectations society placed on men and women. He became a model for the archetype of the freewheeling, rugged, Hemingway-esque figure—but with a more playful, irreverent twist. He rejected genteel compliance in favor of adventure, danger, and authenticity—a perfect prelude to the attitude that young people would bring to mainstream culture a couple of decades later.
A Life Lived Loudly
Ruark wasn’t content to sit at a desk and write about life—he insisted on living it with a ferocity that made him part of his own legend. He traveled widely, hunting in Africa and fishing across the world, always chasing the next thrill. His experiences became fodder for his books, like The Old Man and the Boy, a tender and nostalgic look at his youth spent hunting and fishing under the guidance of his grandfather. But even in this more introspective work, there was an underlying edge—a love of the wild, a disdain for the softness of modernity, and an insistence on preserving a primal connection with the earth.
Robert Ruark wasn’t a rebel in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, but he was a rebel with a pen and a thirst for the authentic. He railed against comfort, convention, and the feebleness of spirit he saw in post-war America. His writing wasn’t just about telling stories—it was about challenging norms, pushing boundaries, and living on his own terms. He drank too much, he offended many, and he often courted danger in ways that were downright reckless. He was, in short, a wild man in an era that demanded conformity.
Legacy: The Original Counter-Culture Storyteller
Though Ruark passed away in 1965, his legacy lives on as a testament to a kind of freedom that transcends time. His works remain controversial, deeply evocative, and filled with a raw energy that refuses to be tamed. Long before the American punks of the 1970s made rebellion fashionable, Ruark lived it—with a typewriter in hand and the world as his hunting ground. He sought the truth in the wild places and turned away from the comforts that so many were running toward. He taught us that real adventure isn’t about where you go, but how much of yourself you’re willing to risk along the way.
SOCIAL LINKS
6K
SUBSCRIBE TO THE FIELD ETHOS DISPATCH
Stories of adventure and the coolest product releases delivered straight to your inbox
SUBSCRIBE
RUARK: THE ORIGINAL REBEL WITH A PEN
October 11, 20244 minute read
By John Warren
When you think about icons of rebellion, names like Johnny Rotten, Joey Ramone, or Iggy Pop might come to mind. But long before punk rock became synonymous with a raised middle finger to conformity, there was Robert Ruark—a writer whose life and work embodied the raw, untamed spirit of resistance. His words shook societal norms, his adventures defied polite convention, and his lifestyle—often fueled by booze, risk, and swagger—stood as a beacon of individual freedom in an increasingly sanitized world.
Born in 1915 in Wilmington, North Carolina, Ruark was a misfit in the traditional sense, but his rebellion was of a different breed—one that showed up on the page and in his unapologetically wild life. He graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill during the Great Depression, bouncing through a few odd jobs before finding his calling as a journalist. By the late 1940s and 1950s, he had become a celebrated columnist for The Washington Post and The New York World-Telegram and Sun. But it was his foray into books and magazine writing that really cemented the WW2 veteran Gunnery Officer’s legacy.
Breaking Through with the Grit of Africa
Ruark’s most well-known works, Something of Value and Uhuru, are fictional sagas set against the backdrop of British colonial East Africa. In these novels, he depicted the complexity and brutality of the Mau Mau Uprising. Something of Value hit hard and stayed rough—it wasn’t sanitized for the readers of 1955. It portrayed the deep cultural collisions between the native Kikuyu people and the European colonizers in ways that were emotionally searing and uncomfortably nuanced. It rejected the neatly packaged narratives of good versus evil, instead showing that the struggles of power, identity, and violence are never black and white.
These books were fierce critiques of colonialism and human nature, laced with a brutal honesty that was uncommon at the time. In Uhuru, Ruark carried that unfiltered energy, tackling post-independence Africa with the same sharp unblinking gaze. He was blunt, sometimes caustic, often controversial, and always unwilling to coddle comfort-seeking readers. He didn’t aim to please, only to provoke, and that in itself is where his spirit shined.
The Playboy Years: Sex, Satire, and Swagger
Ruark was also a recurring voice in Playboymagazine during its golden age—a time when the magazine was more than just a pin-up gallery but an intellectual space for dissidents, dreamers, and critics of the establishment. His columns in Playboy were often outrageous, hilariously blunt, and filled with that raucous spirit of independence. He addressed masculinity and relationships with a mix of gritty humor that was both entertaining and groundbreaking for the time. His prose swaggered off the page, offering unvarnished observations on topics from big game hunting to the pitfalls of modern society.
In Playboy, Ruark was at his most audacious. His pieces were equal parts charming raconteur and barroom philosopher, questioning the expectations society placed on men and women. He became a model for the archetype of the freewheeling, rugged, Hemingway-esque figure—but with a more playful, irreverent twist. He rejected genteel compliance in favor of adventure, danger, and authenticity—a perfect prelude to the attitude that young people would bring to mainstream culture a couple of decades later.
A Life Lived Loudly
Ruark wasn’t content to sit at a desk and write about life—he insisted on living it with a ferocity that made him part of his own legend. He traveled widely, hunting in Africa and fishing across the world, always chasing the next thrill. His experiences became fodder for his books, like The Old Man and the Boy, a tender and nostalgic look at his youth spent hunting and fishing under the guidance of his grandfather. But even in this more introspective work, there was an underlying edge—a love of the wild, a disdain for the softness of modernity, and an insistence on preserving a primal connection with the earth.
Robert Ruark wasn’t a rebel in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, but he was a rebel with a pen and a thirst for the authentic. He railed against comfort, convention, and the feebleness of spirit he saw in post-war America. His writing wasn’t just about telling stories—it was about challenging norms, pushing boundaries, and living on his own terms. He drank too much, he offended many, and he often courted danger in ways that were downright reckless. He was, in short, a wild man in an era that demanded conformity.
Legacy: The Original Counter-Culture Storyteller
Though Ruark passed away in 1965, his legacy lives on as a testament to a kind of freedom that transcends time. His works remain controversial, deeply evocative, and filled with a raw energy that refuses to be tamed. Long before the American punks of the 1970s made rebellion fashionable, Ruark lived it—with a typewriter in hand and the world as his hunting ground. He sought the truth in the wild places and turned away from the comforts that so many were running toward. He taught us that real adventure isn’t about where you go, but how much of yourself you’re willing to risk along the way.
