My Shiva Call
By JOHN M.
TAYLOR
Past President, Tampa Writers Alliance
(return to top)
I am not Jewish, but if I were to
follow the Jewish tradition of making a Shiva Call to Dr. Edgar W.
Hirshberg's family during their time of mourning, here are the kind of things I
would talk about, if talk were appropriate:
Dr. Ed was about writing. When I
first met him I was impressed that he, a prestigious college professor, knew so much
about John D. McDonald and Travis McGee, one of my favorite authors and
characters. Then, over the years, I learned that Ed knew a lot about everything
associated with literature.
Some things about him seemed contradictory.
I discovered the feisty kid had been an enlisted member of the Army Air Force
Evaluation Board, an intelligence unit my dad
served with, - yes, dangling participle, I'll take care of it, Ed -
doing bomb damage assessment in Europe during World War II. After
the war Dr. Ed earned a bachelor’s degree from Harvard, a master’s from Cambridge
University in England, and a Ph.D. from Yale. He came to the
University of South Florida in 1960 as a Charter Faculty Member and served the
University with the rank of full
professor until his retirement in 1990, and continued to serve the community as South Florida's and our
own Professor Emeritus.
As a literary scholar, he was editor and publisher of the JDM Bibliophile,
a magazine devoted to the life and works of Florida mystery writer John D.
MacDonald. He also wrote two full-length critical biographies, numerous reviews
and articles, and served for several years as book editor of the old Tampa Times
and later the St. Petersburg Times.
I first met Ed in 1994 at the
Suncoast Writers Conference as I struggled to learn the craft of writing. Over
the following years he continued to teach me and many, many others by reading
draft novels, offering critiques and advice and urging us all on - sorry,
again - not a very good student, was I, Ed. He helped by just by being around,
never too busy to offer a suggestion. Although he might forget a bit here and
there, he still remembered more about writing and literature than I will ever
begin to learn .
The Tampa Writers Alliance boasted of
Dr. Ed as our most prestigious member and in 2001 named a category in our annual
contest for him. Again in 2002 the Tampa Writers Alliance will be honored
to present the Dr. Edgar W. Hirshberg "Excellence in Florida
Writing" for the winning essay or fiction piece about Florida.
I feel somewhat daunted, an old army
protestant
writing about Shiva and Jewish mourning, very personal things, and I don't
really know about Ed's religious beliefs. After all, I was never an intimate, just one of
Ed's many informal students, and, I dearly hope, a friend.
But I believe Ed would have said write - let the words flow, let your emotions
and tear stains drip over the paper hiding your ignorance - so this is what I
would have said, if I were to make a Shiva Call. I'm sure his family
would nod and smile at my awkward memories, a counterpoint to their own, never
quite enough to fully describe our old friend, father, husband.
No longer will he stand and introduce
himself as the Tampa Writers Alliance oldest living member. He doesn't need to
speak. We all know in our hearts he is standing beside us, ready to help.
Rest easy, Dr. Ed. I remember all
your lessons and advice. I'll try harder. We all will.
jmt
(return to top)
'You
handled the class so gently
but so wisely that we all profited'
By Ann T.Cook
Past President, Tampa Writers Alliance
(return to top)
I gave the following as a letter to Dr. Ed at
the luncheon his Life Enrichment Center writing class gave for him before he
moved. We all wrote something--some even poems, I think--and presented them to
him in a decorated bag to take with him. He was visibly touched, and when he
called me the day before he left, he said he had not yet finished reading them
all, partly I think because he was so moved by the tributes. I had no idea it
would be the last time I would speak to him, although we all knew he was not at
all well. Warner Conarton and Denis O'Connor were especially close to him during
the last years.
May 22, 2002
Dear
Ed,
Without
your unfailing encouragement and advice, I could never had written the four
mystery manuscripts I produced in your class. I certainly wouldn’t have had
three of them accepted by an agent, and would never had had the courage to
petition Mystery Writers of America to join or to submit my work for
publication.
On
the few occasions I did not pay enough attention to your recommendations, my
work suffered. For example, you said to make my architect in Trace
Their Shadows more appealing (that took real
work), you suggested I begin the Cedar Key novel with the hurricane rather than
an introductory scene, and in the Homosassa novel you advised me to omit the
quarrel between Brandy and John in the first scene and concentrate on the
discovery of the murdered man first. All of these failures on my part led to
substantial re-writing when I made the changes you had initially suggested.
The
Creative Fire class book gave me my first chance to see my work in
print. You handled the class so gently but so wisely that we all profited,
whether an individual was writing fiction, an opinion piece, poetry, or a
memoir. All my family will be eternally grateful for the guidance and
encouragement you gave Mother. They enabled her to complete both volumes of her
memoirs, books we will enjoy all our lives. When my sister and I were in her
home town of Silverton recently to hold a memorial service for her and to inter
her ashes there with her family, my cousins and their sons and daughters were
asking for more copies, and a granddaughter read from both books at the service.
I
hope you realize how priceless this class has been for so many of us over the
years. People have come, learned, and made way for others, but all found rewards
and satisfaction. The class provided experiences that time cannot take away from
us.
My love and gratitude,
Ann T. Cook
(return to top)
'Dr.
Ed was the
consummate professional'
By Karen McKinney
Vice President, Tampa Writers Alliance
(return to top)
Dr.
Ed was the consummate professional. Even in retirement, he worked tirelessly
helping other writers or essayist wannabes hone their craft. After writing for
almost 20 years in the advertising industry, I decided that I wanted to learn
to write fiction, so I joined Dr. Ed's class in 1996. He kept telling me I was
much better at nonfiction writing, which I still did on a freelance basis, and
I should probably stick with that genre.
Three
years ago, I began writing for a food industry magazine. My second assignment
was the monthly cover story. I was anxious to show it to Dr. Ed so he could
see what I created professionally. He smiled and took the magazine home,
saying he was looking forward to reading the text. The next week, as he handed
it back to me, and said he was surprised about "the dangling
participle." I must have had a curious look on my face, because he
opened it to the first page of my article, and he had correction marks in the
second column! My editor had changed one sentence and it now ended with a
dangling participle. I read over it and did not remember writing that passage
that way. Later, I checked my copy at home and was happily assured that it had
originally been written correctly. When I told Dr. Ed next week that I had
been right, he told me I needed to have a serious talk with that errant editor
to never do that again! Happily, my editor never again has changed one word of
copy, without calling me first for approval.
Thanks,
Dr. Ed.
(return to top)
To
Dr.
Ed
By Miriam Oaks
Member of Dr. Ed's Creative Writing Class at the Life Enrichment Center
(return to top)
The class can't start 'til you come in the room
Then, in you shuffle with your NO BELL prize
We don't stop when you decide to snooze
We all know that you will galvanize.
Your warmth will catch our class on fire
Your effective style revives our blood
Dr. Ed, we know you are well read
Even if it's mostly stuff from class
You keep our papers piled around
You read our efforts with a secret chuckle
And scrawl a pithy view with glee unmatched.
With your unerring 'eye' for sound
You turn our hackneyed prose to well-wrought verse
An inspiration in our waning years.
You're a Wednesday light that gleams so bright
You ignite a spark in our fading lives
Your comments always make our writing better
Your kind words have sparked us all to shine.
I wish I took your class at USF
I hear your fire was stronger then
I guess you've mellowed out with years.
The college loss was our gain.
I haven't known you long enough-
I wish I knew you way back when.
With your help I might now be famed.
Dr. Ed, if it hadn't been for you
I'd yet be home to play a shadow game
A shadow game that has no light
Wondering if my life was through.
(return to top)
Edgar
and Me, I mean I.
by Warner D. Conarton
(return to top)
I seem to have a penchant for eccentric friends and he did appear to be
that, so it was no surprise that Edgar Hirshberg and I became very closely
acquainted. I guess that in the
year or so preceding his death, he was my closest friend.
I don’t know if he would say that about me.
He told me one time, “Everybody that I ever got to know is dead.”
Maybe that was a warning about close friendships. Anyway, I’m
beginning to understand what he meant.
At frequent lunches, on long trips to Sarasota and back, visits
back-and-forth and over the phone we discussed and shared and argued and
gossiped about a lot of things. We mostly agreed, I’m pleased and proud to
say, and most of what was said, since he’s gone first, will now die with me.
Maybe that’s what friends are for. But there are some things he might allow
me to share.
Private moments with Edgar were very different than class time, group
time or even around the table time. We
found each other good listeners, sympathetic and empathetic with many common
interests. Alone with him,
one-on-one, he admitted more to his uncertainties and to his vulnerability and
to a serious concern for the shortness of what time was left. “We don’t
even buy green bananas anymore,” he joked.
I don’t think Edgar worried much about his image.
His self-esteem was pretty much intact.
“I’m an institution,” he once confided in me. “They don’t,
any of them, know what to make of me.”
He wanted me to take over his class at the Life Enrichment Senior
Center and to continue his pride and joy, the JDM (John D. MacDonald)
Bibliophile, neither of which will happen because, like him, I don’t enjoy
filling other people’s shoes. Especially his.
The size and number of those footprints are enormous. I won’t even
try.
We found we both liked attractive women, good writing, good writers,
hopeful writers, and then everybody else in about that order. Neither of us
could figure out how to deal with religion, overwhelming groups of females, or
the meeting of other peoples expectations, except to back away.
Frank Sinatra made the song “My Way” popular, and he lived it in
spectacular ways. I believe Edgar
even outdid Frank, but in a quieter, gentler manner, and with a much gruffer
voice.
He had, I finally realized, an artist’s temperament.
As a result, sometimes, he could be a real pain in the butt, but always
forgivable. He could match
Picasso or Stravinski or Rubenstein or Najinski in his compulsions and
obsessions. His art, though, was less visible than theirs.
No museum wall could display it. No performance hall or even a view or
video camera could capture it. He
did writers. Whatever kind of
writer one wanted to be, he could gently nudge you along the way. He once,
seemingly quite seriously, edited the message on my phone answering machine.
He was always at it. That was his art and his compulsion and, to my knowledge,
he was the best at it.
I owe him for that. I’d
studied with some of the most respected, Professor Deke Randall and Professor
Carson Hamilton in academia at MSU, and a bunches of others in real life, but
my greatest step toward becoming a mature writer had Edgar walking beside me,
crossing out things and putting in commas.
I’m not even jealous to know that hundreds, maybe thousands of others
feel the same way, or should, through things like the Suncoast Writers
Conference which he co-originated, and those many years he spent with us at
the Life Enrichment Senior Center on North Boulevard, enriching writers. Long before that he did creative writers as a profession at
USF. Hey, thanks from all of us,
a whole damn stadium full.
I really miss Edgar. Sometimes,
when the phone rings, I hurry over to it thinking- well, you know. And also whenever I write, like now. Spell-checks and computers are fine, but none could match
Edgar, and a gruff word of praise from him could brighten a whole week.
I’m different from knowing you, Edgar Hirshberg, better. I hope I carry some of what you had around with me for a
bunch of years yet, until it’s over, and spread it around a quarter as well
as you did.
(return to top)
|
