The trouble of the ‘bawdy’ book
William Shakespeare is my favorite historic personage but for
two weeks in 1950 I winced at the mention of his name.
The episode began in the library of Woodward High School in
Toledo where I was a junior. I found a new book about Shakespeare
and checked it out.
The trouble of the ‘bawdy’ book
William Shakespeare is my favorite historic personage but for two weeks in 1950 I winced at the mention of his name.
The episode began in the library of Woodward High School in Toledo where I was a junior. I found a new book about Shakespeare and checked it out.
It was titled “Shakespeare’s Bawdy” and author Eric Partridge listed scores of The Bard’s off-color allusions from his plays and sonnets. It was an eye-opener because I had read some without realizing their true meaning.
The next day in Junior English class, I told Eddie Szublewski about it. He was incredulous at first but grew interested as he saw I was in earnest. He told me to let him know when I was going to return the book, and was hot on my heels when I did.
Eddie told other members of the football team about it, and little knots of them gathered around him and the book before class. It was in hot demand and young athletes turned scholars vied to check it out. Copies of all Shakespeare’s plays – even “Timon of Athens” – disappeared from the library’s shelves.
I was there one study session when Miss Manton, the librarian, remarked to a staff member, “It is unusual but it just shows that good writing can stir even the young.”
Many football players deigned to smile at me as I passed by, and a few even slapped me on the back.
The trouble began when a girl approached me one day. “Do you know anything about a book called ‘Shakespeare’s Buddy?'” she asked but I just shrugged. Evidently the girls knew something was going on and, denied the opportunity to learn what, squealed to a teacher.
The next day in the final period the principal announced over the public address system that three boys were to report to the Dean of Boys. They were the last three to have checked out the book.
For the next two weeks, each boy who had read it was summoned to the dean to account for so doing. My newfound popularity vanished and cool stares or frowns answered my greetings.
Then Eddie was called to the office. He seemed bitter afterwards and said the dean grilled him about Shakespeare’s plays and his favorites.
My name was last on the list and Mr. Meek, the dean, asked if I knew why so many boys had checked the book out. I stammered until he finally shook his head and dismissed me.
Then the silence set in. No one was called back but we couldn’t relax. A senior announced in my presence, “If I miss my scholarship because of this, someone’s going to pay.”
One morning Bernie Leiter piped up, “Nothing’s going to happen. They can’t expel 20-some boys without looking foolish.” We didn’t let out our breath completely but his observation cheered us. By the time June arrived we knew that we were in the clear.
As Shakespeare himself so aptly put it, “All’s Well That Ends Well.”
