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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I arrived home to find my kids sleeping in the hallway — seeing what my husband had turned their bedroom into while I was gone drove me wild with angerPhoto of admin admin3 weeks ago0 616 7 minutes read
After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!
I’d been away on a business trip for a week, and let me tell you, I was itching to get home. My boys, Tommy and Alex, were probably bouncing off the walls waiting for me.
I mean, a week is practically forever when you’re 6 and 8. And Mark? Well, I figured he’d be glad to hand the reins back to me. He’s a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s always been more of the fun parent than the responsible one.
As I pulled into our driveway at midnight, I couldn’t help but grin. The house was dark and quiet, just as it should be at this ungodly hour.
I grabbed my suitcase and tiptoed to the front door, keys jingling softly in my hand.
The lock clicked open, and I stepped inside, ready to collapse into bed. But something was… wrong.
My foot hit something soft, and I froze. Heart pounding, I fumbled for the light switch. When the hall lit up, I almost screamed.
Tommy and Alex were sprawled out on the floor, tangled up in blankets like a couple of puppies. They were fast asleep, but their faces were smudged with dirt, and their hair was sticking up in all directions.
“What the hell?” I whispered, my mind racing. Had there been a fire? A gas leak? Why weren’t they in their beds?
I crept past them, afraid to wake them up until I knew what was going on. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, and what looked suspiciously like melted ice cream on the coffee table. But no sign of Mark.
My heart was doing the cha-cha in my chest as I made my way to our bedroom. Empty.
The bed was still made, like it hadn’t been slept in today. Mark’s car was in the driveway, so where was he?
That’s when I heard it. A faint, muffled sound coming from the boys’ room. I tiptoed over, my imagination running wild. Was Mark hurt? Had some psycho broken in and tied him up?
I pushed the door open, inch by inch, and…
“What. The. Actual—” I bit my tongue, remembering the kids were just down the hall.
There was Mark, headphones on, controller in hand, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers. But that wasn’t even the craziest part.
The boys’ room had been transformed into some kind of gamer paradise. A massive TV took up one wall, there were LED lights everywhere, and I’m pretty sure that monstrosity in the corner was a mini-fridge.
I stood there, mouth hanging open, as the rage built up inside me like a volcano about to blow. Mark hadn’t even noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing.
I stomped over and yanked the headphones off his head. “Mark! What the hell is going on?”
He blinked at me, looking dazed. “Oh, hey babe. You’re home early.”
“Early? It’s midnight! Why are our children sleeping on the floor?”
He shrugged, reaching for his controller again. “Oh, it’s fine. The boys were happy sleeping outside. They thought it was an adventure.”
I snatched the controller away. “An adventure? They’re not camping, Mark! They’re sleeping on our dirty hallway floor!”
“Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill,” he said, trying to grab the controller back. “Everything’s under control. I’ve been feeding them and stuff.”
“Feeding them? You mean the pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room?” I could feel my blood pressure rising with every word. “And what about baths? Or, I don’t know, their actual beds?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “They’re fine, Sarah. Lighten up a bit.”
That’s when I lost it.
“Lighten up? LIGHTEN UP? Our children are sleeping on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to have a little me-time. Is that so terrible?”
I took a deep breath, trying not to scream. “You know what? We’re not doing this right now. Go put the boys in their beds. Now.”
“But I’m in the middle of—”
“NOW, Mark!”
He grumbled but got up, shuffling past me.
I watched him pick up Tommy, who stirred a little but didn’t wake up. As Mark carried him to bed, I couldn’t help but think how alike they looked: one actual child and the man acting like one.
I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking a little at how dirty his face was. As I tucked him into bed, I made a decision. If Mark wanted to act like a child, then that’s exactly how I’d treat him.
The next morning, I put my plan into action.
While Mark was in the shower, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.
When he came downstairs, hair still wet, I was waiting for him with a big smile. “Good morning, sweetie! I made you breakfast!”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Uh, thanks?”
I set a plate in front of him. In the middle was a Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit. His coffee was in a sippy cup.
“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the pancake.
“It’s your breakfast, silly! Now eat up, we have a big day ahead of us!”
After breakfast, I unveiled my masterpiece, a giant, colorful chore chart plastered on the fridge. “Look what I made for you!”
Mark’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”
“Language!” I scolded. “It’s your very own chore chart! See? You can earn gold stars for cleaning your room, doing the dishes, and putting away your toys!”
“My toys? Sarah, what are you—”
I cut him off. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have a new house rule. All screens off by 9 p.m. sharp. That includes your phone, mister!”
Mark’s face went from confused to angry. “Are you kidding me? I’m a grown man, I don’t need—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” I wagged my finger. “No arguing, or you’ll have to go to the timeout corner!”
For the next week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.
I even tucked him into bed with a glass of milk and read him “Goodnight Moon” in my most soothing voice.
His meals were served on plastic plates with little dividers. I cut his sandwiches into dinosaur shapes and gave him animal crackers for snacks. When he complained, I’d say things like, “Use your words, honey. Big boys don’t whine.”
The chore chart was a particular point of contention. Every time he completed a task, I’d make a big show of giving him a gold star.
“Look at you, putting your laundry away all by yourself! Mommy’s so proud!”
He’d grit his teeth and mutter, “I’m not a child, Sarah.”
To which I’d reply, “Of course not, sweetie. Now, who wants to help make cookies?”
The breaking point came about a week into my little experiment. Mark had just been sent to the timeout corner for throwing a fit about his two-hour screen time limit. He sat there, fuming, while I calmly set the kitchen timer.
“This is ridiculous!” he exploded. “I’m a grown man, for God’s sake!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure about that? Because grown men don’t make their children sleep on the floor so they can play video games all night.”
He deflated a little. “Okay, okay, I get it! I’m sorry!”
I studied him for a moment. He did look genuinely remorseful, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook when I had one last blow to deliver.
“Oh, I accept your apology,” I said sweetly. “But I’ve already called your mom…”
The color drained from his face. “You didn’t.”
Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to reveal Mark’s mother, looking every bit the disappointed parent.
“Mark!” she bellowed, marching into the house. “Did you really make my sweeties sleep on the floor so you could play your little games?”
Mark looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Mom, it’s not… I mean, I didn’t…”
She turned to me, her face softening. “Sarah, dear, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I thought I raised him better than that.”
I patted her arm. “It’s not your fault, Linda. Some boys just take longer to grow up than others.”
Mark’s face was beet red. “Mom, please. I’m 35 years old!”
Linda ignored him, turning back to me. “Well, not to worry. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next week. I’ll whip this boy back into shape in no time!”
As Linda bustled off to the kitchen, muttering about the state of the dishes, I caught Mark’s eye. He looked utterly defeated.
“Sarah,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry. I was selfish and irresponsible. It won’t happen again.”
I softened a little. “I know, honey. But when I’m away, I need to know you’ve got things under control. The boys need a father, not another playmate.”
He nodded, looking ashamed. “You’re right. I’ll do better, I promise.”
I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I know you will. Now, why don’t you go help your mother with the dishes? If you do a good job, maybe we can have ice cream for dessert.”
As Mark trudged off to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Lesson learned, I hoped. And if not… well, I still had that timeout corner ready and waiting.
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