Nick Nolte is now famous for playing tough characters, but back in the 1970s, he was a major sex symbol. At 82 years old today, he looks very different from his heartthrob days.
Nick Nolte on the set of The Deep on November 5,1976 in Hamilton, Bermuda. (Photo by Santi Visalli/Getty Images)
I have a lot of respect for Nick Nolte—he’s truly one of the greatest actors in American cinema history.
I love how his strong facial features, like his square jaw and wild hair, make him look like a powerful character from a Shakespeare play.
His acting is so compelling because of his versatility and the intensity you can see in his eyes. Nick always delivers raw and honest performances, and many people appreciate his skills.
In 1991, Nolte won the Golden Globe Award for Best Actor in a Drama and was also nominated for an Academy Award for his role in *The Prince of Tides*.
Nick Nolte’s powerful roles in films like *Affliction* and *Warrior* also earned him Academy Award nominations. However, today, he looks very different from his Golden Globe-winning days.
His reputation took a big hit after his famous messy mug shot in 2002, and his legal troubles and personal scandals didn’t help.
For younger people, it might be hard to believe that Nolte was once seen as the ultimate all-American hero in the 1970s and was even named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive.
So how did Nick Nolte become so famous?
Back in high school, Nolte wasn’t much of an actor, according to his football coach. He was a talented football player but was also described as a “skinny, awkward kid with a crew cut.” Nolte himself has said he was very shy and struggled at school. He was later diagnosed with dyslexia.
Nick Nolte, born in Omaha, Nebraska, on February 8, 1941, got his big break with the TV miniseries *Rich Man, Poor Man* in 1976. Soon after, he became a famous name and a heartthrob in America.
Before acting, he worked as a model in the 1960s. One of his most famous modeling gigs was with Sigourney Weaver for Clairol’s “Summer Blonde” hair dye campaign in 1972. According to Eighties Kids, this commercial is the only time a man has ever appeared on a box of women’s hair dye.
Nevertheless, Nolte was virtually unknown when he was cast for Rich Man, Poor Man, though he stole the series as Rudy’s brother Tom. He played the part of Jordache like only a true all-American hero could.
The series changed Nolte’s life completely – he swept ladies off their feet as the quintessential bad boy, Tom. Nolte also had to put a lot of work into his own body. When he starred as a young man in the early scenes of the project, he weighed about 150 pounds.
”I remember the different stages I went through for Rich Man, Poor Man. That was the biggest expanse in age. It went from 16 to 45. Physically, I thought of the weight I was as a sophomore in high school, which was 150 pounds. So I dropped down to that weight and got that boy body back. I ran around that Hollywood reservoir day and night,” Nolte told Insider in 2022.
After his success with *Rich Man, Poor Man*, Nick Nolte continued to prove himself as a great actor with many strong performances. In 1982, he became a huge star with the hit action-comedy *48 Hrs.*, where he starred with Eddie Murphy.
The movie was groundbreaking in several ways. Nolte said in 2011, “*48 Hrs.* was the first film where a black and a white character criticized each other.” He explained that after the Civil Rights movement, interactions between white and black people were still awkward, and they didn’t know how to communicate with each other.
In the 1990s, Nick Nolte’s career was at its peak. He earned millions and was one of the most respected actors in the industry.
However, in the 2000s, Nolte’s image shifted. He became known as one of Hollywood’s notorious bad boys. He faced personal issues, went through three divorces, and was arrested multiple times.
The three-time Academy Award nominee went from being called “the sexiest man alive” to being famously pictured in a police mugshot.
Since 2002, Nick has been sober. He has said, “I was at a low point and got slack. I used alcohol to cope with difficult situations—relationships, failed projects—and even as a way to deal with the loneliness and isolation that come with fame.”
In recent years, Nick Nolte has mostly taken on smaller supporting roles and looks quite different from his Hollywood star days.
Today, he lives in a treehouse he built himself in Malibu, California, with his wife Clytie Lane.
Nolte enjoys spending time with his children, reading, and being outdoors. He has a son, Brawley Nolte (born 1986), and a daughter, Sophia Lane Nolte (born 2001).
Both of Nick Nolte’s kids have tried acting, and it seemed for a while that they might follow in their father’s footsteps.
Sophia even acted with her dad in the film *Honey in the Head*, playing his granddaughter.
Nolte joked, “She’s like a little grown-up. Sometimes she calls me Grandpa instead of Daddy because her friends’ dads are younger. I’m pushing 80, and my son Brawley is in his 30s. He did some acting but decided it wasn’t for him. He’s now studying to become a doctor,” Nolte told the Saturday Evening Post.
Even though many years have passed, Nick Nolte still has that cheeky smile, gorgeous eyes, and charming personality. At 82, he looks great and continues to do what he loves most—acting.
He also has a healthy attitude about getting older. Nolte says, “I don’t regret being old at all. I’m pretty comfortable with it, knowing there’s still one big adventure ahead. It’s a bit spooky, but I accept it. You keep fighting and keep moving until the very end.”
In my opinion, Nick Nolte is often overlooked when people talk about top male actors.
Thank you for all the memories over the years, Nick! You are such a great actor and an articulate, cultured gentleman!
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Neighbors Kept Their Distance after I Moved In, until I Found Out the Shocking Reason – Story of the Day
I moved into a new neighborhood, hoping to find new friends and the comfort of suburban life. However, no one was happy to see me. Citizens avoided me, and neighbors peeked at me behind their fences. One day, I discovered something that sent shivers down my spine. Could this be the real reason for their hostility?
I had just moved into a new house, rented through an agency, in a small suburb. It was a quaint little place with neat lawns and friendly-looking homes.
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I had hoped for a peaceful and friendly life, imagining neighbors stopping by to say hello and welcoming me to the community. But that didn’t happen.
From the first day, I noticed the cold shoulders. People didn’t greet me or even make eye contact. It was as if I was invisible. I tried not to let it bother me, but it was hard not to feel lonely.
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One sunny afternoon, I was watering the flowers in my front yard when I saw a little girl riding her bike down the street. She must have been around seven years old, with pigtails bouncing as she pedaled.
Suddenly, she lost control and fell off her bike right in front of my house.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, rushing over to help her. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
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Before I could reach her, a woman—her mother, I assumed—came running over, yelling, “Get away from her!”
Startled, I stopped in my tracks. The mother grabbed the girl, her eyes wide with panic, and hugged her tightly.
“Are you hurt, Jenny? Did she touch you?” she asked frantically, looking at me like I was some kind of threat.
“I just wanted to help,” I said softly, feeling a lump in my throat.
The mother didn’t respond. She picked up her daughter and hurried away, leaving the bike behind.
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I stood there, confused and hurt. I noticed one of the neighbors, Jules, walking her dog near my house. She had seen the whole thing.
Jules was a peculiar woman. She always wore long skirts, and her eyes were painted with blue eyeshadow, her lips bright with pink lipstick. She was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Good afternoon, Jules,” I called out, trying to sound cheerful.
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She didn’t reply. Instead, she clutched the leash of her small dog and quickly crossed to the other side of the road, muttering to herself.
“Why is everyone so unfriendly?” I whispered to myself. “Is it something I did?”
Back inside my house, I sat by the window, looking out at the empty street.
“Maybe they think I’m weird or something,” I murmured, trying to make sense of it all. “But they don’t even know me.”
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I picked up my journal and started writing.
“Day three in the new house. The neighbors are still avoiding me. Why are they treating me like this? I just want to fit in.”
Humming to myself, I closed the journal and looked around my empty living room. The house felt big and lonely.
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I walked on tiptoes to the kitchen, a habit of mine when I was nervous. I made myself a cup of tea and sat back down by the window, watching for any signs of friendliness.
“Maybe tomorrow will be different,” I said aloud, trying to stay hopeful.
But deep down, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was very wrong.
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***
Feeling lonely and unwanted, I decided to change the situation. I couldn’t just sit around hoping things would get better on their own. So, I decided to throw a party.
“Maybe they just need a chance to get to know me,” I thought.
I spent the whole day preparing. I cooked up a storm—salads, sandwiches, cookies, you name it. I even decorated the yard with fairy lights and colorful paper lanterns, hoping to create a warm and inviting atmosphere.
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As evening fell, I set up a table in the yard, arranging all the dishes neatly. I put on my favorite pink dress and tied a scarf around my wrist, humming a little tune to keep my spirits up.
“This will be great,” I told myself, trying to stay positive.
The clock struck six, the time I had mentioned in the invitations I had slipped into each neighbor’s mailbox.
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I waited, excitement and nerves battling inside me. But as the minutes ticked by, my excitement turned into anxiety.
An hour passed. Then another. The food lay untouched, the lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, and my heart sank. No one came. Not a single person.
Feeling despairing and close to tears, I began clearing the dishes.
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“What did I do wrong?” I whispered to myself.
Just as I was about to take the last tray inside, I heard a voice.
“Hey, need some help?”
I turned around to see Jacob standing at the gate, his usual charming smile on his face. He was dressed in tight jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off his muscles.
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I tried to smile back, though it felt forced. “Hi, Jacob. I was starting to think no one would come.”
He walked over, taking the tray from my hands.
“I’m sorry about that. There’s something you need to know.”
We sat down at the table, and Jacob looked into my eyes.
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“You see, the house you moved into has a bit of a reputation. The last woman who lived here had nothing but bad luck. Strange things kept happening, and then one day, she just disappeared. No one knows what happened to her.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “That’s why everyone is avoiding me? Because of some old rumors?”
Jacob nodded. “People here are superstitious. Jules, especially is. She’s convinced there’s something wrong with this place. But I don’t believe in any of that. I’d be happy to have dinner with you.”
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I smiled, feeling a bit of relief. “Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate it.”
During the dinner, Jacob asked about my life, and I told him about my move and my hopes for a fresh start. He listened intently, offering kind words and compliments.
Before leaving, Jacob leaned in and whispered, “Just be careful around Mrs. Jules. She can be a bit off due to her superstitions.”
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I nodded, grateful for the company and the warning. There was more to this neighborhood than I had realized, and I was determined to uncover the truth.
***
The next day, after dinner with Jacob, I couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling his words had left me with.
“I need to find out what’s happening,” I said to myself as I tiptoed around the house, my mind racing with thoughts.
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I decided to explore the attic. Maybe something there will give me answers.
I climbed up the creaky stairs. The attic was dusty and filled with old furniture, boxes, and cobwebs. As I rummaged through the clutter, I spotted an old, leather-bound diary.
Sitting down on a dusty trunk, I opened the diary. It belonged to the previous resident, and as I read, a chill ran down my spine.
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The woman had written about strange things happening around the house as soon as she moved in.
“Just like what’s happening to me,” I whispered, feeling connection to the previous tenant. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
Determined to find out more, I started paying closer attention to my surroundings. I also noticed strange occurrences.
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Every night, I heard eerie noises that seemed to echo through the neighborhood.
And every morning, the flowers in my garden were cut down. Moreover, a black cat appeared at my doorstep daily.
I eventually decided to keep the cat.
“At least you’re friendly,” I said, scratching behind its ears. I named him Snowball, despite his jet-black fur.
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Snowball quickly became my companion, and his presence brought me some comfort.
Jules, however, was always watching. She only left her house to walk her dog, but it seemed like she was also spying on the neighborhood, especially on me.
I often caught her peering out from behind her fence, her eyes following my every move.
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“Why is she always watching me?” I wondered aloud. “What does she think I’m going to do?”
That day, I decided enough was enough. I needed to know what was really happening. I dressed in dark clothes and tiptoed to the neighbor’s yard, hiding behind their fence. I waited, my heart pounding in my chest.
***
That night was dark and silent, with only the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
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“What am I even doing here?” I whispered to myself.
Suddenly, a shadow darted through my garden. My breath caught in my throat as I watched it move swiftly, almost too fast to follow.
Gathering my courage, I emerged from my hiding place and started to climb over the fence, hoping to catch whoever it was.
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Just as I swung my leg over, someone started screaming hysterically.
“Who’s there? Get away!”
It was Jules. She had seen me.
She turned on all the lights in her yard, flooding the darkness with harsh brightness. Neighbors began to gather, drawn by the commotion.
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Jules was muttering something about me trying to harm her, her voice trembling with fear.
“What’s going on?”
I heard someone shout as people from nearby streets came running with flashlights, and some even with rakes, ready to protect themselves.
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Everyone looked at me in shock and suspicion.
“She’s the one causing all the trouble!” Jules cried out, pointing at me with a shaky hand. “She’s trying to harm us all!”
I felt a wave of humiliation and frustration wash over me.
“Wait, please!” I called out, trying to make them understand. “Someone has been setting this all up. It’s not what it looks like!”
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One of the neighbors stepped forward, a stern look on his face.
“You need to leave,” he said firmly. “We can’t have this kind of disturbance here.”
“No, please listen!” I pleaded. “I can prove it. Someone is behind all of this, and it’s not me.”
I pointed to the paint in my yard and said, “I spilled paint under my fence earlier. The person who climbed into my yard will have paint on them. That’s how we’ll find out who’s behind this.”
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The neighbors looked skeptical but began inspecting each other’s clothing. Jules started muttering again, accusing me of lying and trying to deceive them.
I felt tears sting my eyes as the humiliation deepened. Just then, I noticed Jacob arriving, the last one to show up.
Someone shone a flashlight on him, and I gasped. His boots were covered in paint.
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“Jacob?” a neighbor exclaimed. “What’s going on?”
Jacob’s face turned pale as everyone started demanding explanations.
He shook his head and protested, “This is ridiculous! I have nothing to do with this. It’s just a coincidence.”
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The crowd wasn’t convinced. They started murmuring among themselves, and the tension grew. Finally, one of the neighbors, a burly man holding a rake, stepped forward.
“Enough of this nonsense, Jacob,” he said firmly. “Answer like a man or get out of here.”
Jacob’s eyes darted around, realizing he was cornered. He sighed heavily, the fight draining out of him.
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“Alright, alright,” he muttered. “It was me. I spread the rumors about the house and its residents to lower the price. I wanted to buy it cheaply.”
The crowd gasped in shock and disbelief. The truth was finally out. The neighbors, realizing the mistake they had made, turned to me.
“We’re sorry,” one of them said. “We didn’t know.”
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Another neighbor stepped forward and added, “We should have listened to you from the start.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I just wanted to be part of this community.”
From that day on, everything changed. The neighbors began to support me. I made new friends and started to enjoy living in my house.
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Jacob, on the other hand, became a recluse. The shame of his actions isolated him, and he eventually sold his house and moved away.
As I looked around at my now-welcoming neighborhood, I felt a sense of belonging and peace.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” I whispered to myself. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
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Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I wanted to surprise my son by visiting his restaurant. I wore a simple, neat dress and ordered a modest cup of tea. Suddenly, an arrogant woman asked me to move, humiliating me by pointing out my attire as unsuitable for such a place. Feeling humiliated, I went home.
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