Since he was 4, Pringle, who just celebrated his 80th birthday and his 50th wedding anniversary, has been a preacher, the kid behind the pulpit who grew into the man who became the center of much controversy, much of it racially charged.
Whether you agree or disagree with Pringle, and his outspoken views about racism, there’s no arguing the importance he has played on the Middletown community and his family. He has been at the forefront of the Civil Rights Movement in Middletown for more than 50 years.
He has fought city councils, school boards, and everyone or everything he didn’t feel was right. He prefers to call himself “the people’s person” instead of the voice of just one race.
“He never was afraid to speak out,” said the Rev. Elmon Prier, his neighbor and one of his dearest friends. “And that seems like we’re losing that right now.”
Pringle said he has spent many summer nights sitting under his front yard tree talking with Prier and others. They have solved all of the world’s problems numerous times, Pringle said with a laugh.
Pringle said he was raised by his mother and grandmother, but his father, Jesse, never missed a child support payment. On his death bed, Jesse Pringle told his son to keep the family tree alive and vibrant.
Pringle and his wife, Marlene, whom he affectionately calls “The Queen,” have four children, Rudy, 47, Timothy, 45, Gloria Ashley, 41, and Barron, 37, and they’re proud to say, all graduated from Middletown and Monroe high schools and from college. The Pringles have 10 grandchildren, nine girls and one boy.
But Pringle is referred to as “dad” or “father” by countless kids around town, some whom now are fathers themselves. If there was a Father’s Draft in the city, Rudolph Pringle would be the No. 1 pick. He treats them like his own kids. He kicks them in the butt, and pats them on the back. If they need advice, or grocery money, he is there, too.
“They just love him,” his wife said.
“They respect me,” he said. “Everything starts at home.”
For the Pringles, it all started, fittingly, in a Cleveland church. Pringle was there for a revival, and his “authoritarian voice” caught Marlene’s ears. That was 1960.
“He knew what he was talking about,” she said recently while sitting in their home on Greenview Drive, where they have lived for 34 years.
Rudolph said he was attracted to Marlene because she was “class. I respect class to this day.”
Then he flashed a smile.
“Man, she was beautiful, too,” he said. Then he caught himself. “She still is. She has so much beauty, she makes the Lord say, ‘Hello.’”
Nice recovery, there Rudy.
They got married on June 1, 1963 in Cleveland, then moved to Middletown and never left. He worked at Armco for 41 years and is pastor at Apostolic Faith Church in Dayton.
Their children recently hosted a 50th wedding anniversary party, but they never considered renewing their vows.
“Those first ones stood,” Marlene said.
He said most marriages fail because couples don’t put God first. In the Pringle home, He’s first and everything else is a distant second.
Pringle called his wife “the glue that keeps the family together.”
When asked about his battles, Pringle said: “I lost a lot, but I won many too. I took my licking and kept on kicking.”
He has slowed down now. He rarely attends Middletown city council or school board meetings.
“I’m tired of fighting,” said Pringle, a prostate cancer survivor since 2000.
As the Pringles sat in their family room, on couches protected by plastic, they appeared to just walk out of a fashion magazine. Everything matched, from Marlene hat to her husband’s shoes. They either were expecting company, or they got dressed for church two days early.
Marlene said she picks out all of her husband’s outfits. He has about 30 suits in his closet. He can’t remember ever wearing a pair of blue jeans.
C’mon, Rudy. Really?
“Me neither,” his wife said.
After 50 years of marriage, it’s OK to answer for your husband.
Since Rudolph Pringle doesn’t shop, he was asked what he does around the house. For a second, he was speechless.
Meanwhile, his wife took her finger and wrote in the air: “N-O-T-H-I-N-G.”
“I pay people,” he said. “You know. I make jobs.”
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