Mr. Liberty Bowl A.F. 'Bud' Dudley Press Box honors game's founder By Zack McMillin December 20, 2005 As old friends stopped to say hello, to say they were honored to come to Liberty Bowl Memorial Stadium for a Monday luncheon honoring a true Memphis original, Ambrose Francis Dudley smiled like a man satisfied with his legacy in 86 years of living. Bud Dudley (seated), who founded the Liberty Bowl, talks with past Liberty Bowl president Jim Gilliland during a ceremony Monday recognizing Dudley's achievments.   [ Matthew Craig/Associated Press] He played football at Notre Dame in the '40s, where he made his friend Ed McMahon guffaw long before Johnny Carson. He graduated early -- Phi Beta Kappa, president of his class -- so he could enlist, and he would win the Distinguished Flying Cross for being the lead navigator in a B-24 bombing group that flew 54 missions over Europe. Memphians know him best, however, as a creative sports entrepreneur who brought his patriotism-themed bowl game, the Liberty Bowl, to the city.  He is an old man now, in need of a walker and with black shoes with velcro straps, but the man who introduced himself to Memphis 40 years ago as Bud Dudley is strong of pride and vibrant of memory when it comes to the bowl game he weaved into the fabric of Memphis and college football. The folks who run what is now known as the AutoZone Liberty Bowl honored Dudley by unveiling a new name for the stadium press box -- the A.F. 'Bud' Dudley Press Box -- and by giving him the AutoZone Liberty Bowl Distinguished Citizen Award. "Brings back a lot of memories," Dudley said. When Dudley brought his fledgling bowl to Memphis, for the 1965 game, total attendance in the previous two games -- in Philadelphia and Atlantic City, N.J. -- was 14,368. In the first game in Memphis, 38,607 watched Ole Miss beat Auburn. Convinced he had found a new home, Dudley moved his family down shortly thereafter.  "I met the nicest people I ever met in Memphis," Dudley said. Dudley, a former athletic director at Villanova whose father was a pioneering sports entrepeneur in Philly, was then in competition with only seven other bowls. Today, with 28 bowls, the landscape has changed dramatically. Steve Ehrhart, who succeeded Dudley as the bowl's executive director in 1994, pointed out that the days of "recruiting" schools are long over, although many of the bowl's past presidents reveled in telling old war stories. Trow Gillespie, a past president, recalled 1982, when Alabama played Illinois in the final game for legendary Crimson Tide coach Paul 'Bear' Bryant.  Gillespie, who played football at Vanderbilt, was giddy because it looked like his alma mater had earned the invite.  That is, until Bryant called and said he wanted to play. "Everybody was standing and cheering and hugging each other," Gillespie said. "I said, 'Wait a minute. We've got to vote.' And everyone said, 'We just voted.'"  Alabama had played in the first Liberty Bowl, in 1959 in Philadelphia. The final score: 7-0, Penn State, with the two quarterbacks combining for two pass completions. Fresno State and Tulsa will play in this, the 47th incarnation, on Dec. 31. Both teams feature high-powered offenses, reflecting the game's evolution over the last half century. The scribes high above the field, in the A.F. 'Bud' Dudley Press Box, will be greeted by a large historical plaque engraved with a tribute to "the gentleman who had the vision and courage to found the Liberty Bowl Football Classic, a collegiate bowl game honoring our country." Greeted by a standing ovation, Dudley himself raised up out of his seat to acknowledge friends, family and assorted dignitaries, including old friend and opera diva Marguerite Piazza.  He stayed standing for much of the rest of the afternoon, even when a grandson asked: "Grandfather, do you need to sit down?"   "No," Dudley said. "I'm OK." Another old friend, Charlotte Neal, visits Dudley and, like Piazza, often takes him out for meals.  "Bud has some tough days," she said. "But this is a really good one. God love him." Asked his feelings, Dudley became the old hard-scrabble WWII veteran that he is.  "It's hard for me to express my feelings," he said, simply, "without getting sentimental." And so he didn't, but his bright eyes said enough. CommercialAppeal.com Zack McMillin: 529-2564 Contact