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Stork Raving Mad(11)

By:Donna Andrews


Was he really as confident as he sounded? I followed him back into the kitchen.

Apparently, news of the prunes’ actions had spread throughout the house. Every student living with us and quite a few I didn’t remember ever seeing before had crowded into the kitchen. The room was boiling with heated discussions in at least two languages. Señor Mendoza was still holding forth in a surprisingly loud bellow.

“You have no idea what he’s going on about?” I asked.

“Something about marching and picketing in protest, I think,” Michael said.

“I got that much.”

I followed Michael into the hall—not so much because I wanted to eavesdrop, although I did, but I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting in the kitchen with all the noise and the overwhelming smell of seafood.

“Professor Waterston,” Dr. Wright said. She sounded surprised to see him.

“I understand you have some issues with the topic of Ramon Soto’s dissertation” Michael said.

“His topic is—”

“Is a drama topic, rather than an English topic,” Michael said. “As it should be, since he is working on a degree in drama, not English. What kind of drama curriculum could we have if we didn’t include playwrights like Aeschylus, Sophocles, Moliere, Lope de Vega, Chekhov, Ibsen, Garcia Lorca, Pirandello, Brecht—”

“That’s not the point of view we’re taking on the subject,” Dr. Wright began. “We feel—”

“I think I understand your point of view,” Michael said. “And I’d be happy to discuss it. What I fail to see is why this issue wasn’t brought to his dissertation committee before the department took such drastic action.”

“Since your committee failed to take any action on his highly unsuitable topic—” Dr. Wright began.

“Our committee did not fail to act,” Michael said. “We have followed every step of Mr. Soto’s dissertation with great attention and we have been highly satisfied with his progress. Are you asserting that there is a formal departmental rule prohibiting use of foreign language materials in a dissertation to be submitted under the drama curriculum? If there is, I’d like to see it.”

“The material is not just foreign,” Dr. Blanco put in. “It’s obscene!”

Michael and Dr. Wright both glanced at him briefly and then resumed their argument as if his interruption hadn’t happened.

“And why is the department taking this action now, at the worst possible moment for Mr. Soto?” Michael went on. “Has no one in the department been reviewing the paperwork Mr. Soto has filed, as well as the reports of our committee?”

“There is some question of whether Mr. Soto has filed all his paperwork,” Dr. Wright said.

“Then the department should have brought that to his attention and his committee’s attention earlier,” Michael said. “And I know damned well our committee has filed all its reports, because I’m the one who did it. What’s more—”

“Michael,” I said. I could tell he didn’t like being interrupted, but I could also tell he’d lost his temper. This didn’t happen very often, but when it did, the results were scary. Not only did he look every bit of his six foot four and more, but he used his powerful, theatrically trained voice as a weapon. So far he was only in the first stage, speaking with icy precision and cold sarcasm, but I could tell that King Lear and Vesuvius weren’t far off.

“Sorry,” he said. He flashed me a brief, grateful smile. “Am I too loud? Upsetting Bonnie and Clyde?”

“I only wanted to suggest that perhaps this is something Mr. Soto’s whole doctoral committee should hear about. I could call Dr. Sass and Dr. Rudmann.”

“An excellent idea,” Michael said. “I’m sure we can sort this all out with their help.”

Abe Sass and Art Rudmann, in addition to being the balance of Ramon’s dissertation committee, were the two senior drama professors in the department and the only tenured ones. Both were somewhat elderly, since they’d been hired before the English department had begun what Michael referred to as its militant repression of the drama curriculum. And they were good friends and staunch allies of Michael’s.

“I fail to see what there is to sort out,” Dr. Wright said. “The department’s decision on this is non-negotiable.”

“But perhaps there is a value in explaining the issues involved to the entire committee at once,” Dr. Blanco said. “Let’s schedule something.”

Clearly he was a man more comfortable with compromise than open conflict. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his PDA. After frowning slightly—a small crack in the façade of bureaucractic solidarity!—Dr. Wright began tapping again on hers.