Colleges are full of odd stories that revolve around characters and controversies. One of the stories that occasionally pops to the surface at Wofford is the long-running saga of Frogs and Poets.
In the fall of 1972, a small dispute arose in a faculty meeting over department budgets and over allocations in the library book budget. Some of the faculty members in the humanities were upset over increases in the biology department’s allocations. According to later reports, a biology faculty member made a comment at a faculty Christmas party that annoyed a member of the English department. Dr. Ray Leonard, the longtime chair of the biology department, expressed the opinion that “you can learn as much from a dead frog as you can from a dead poet.”
A word to the wise: never tick off an English professor, especially one that teaches creative writing.
The comment no doubt stirred some creative juices in Ed Minus, the director of the writing center and member of the English faculty. In March, a poem appeared in the Journal, the student literary magazine. It began with the quote, attributed to Dr. Leonard, and continued
Froggie went a courting and he did ride
But he ended up in formaldehyde
On the desk of Dr. Philistine
Who said “I’ll soon know what life means”
The poem continued, and with the ghost of the frog telling the professor to do someting that I won’t repeat in a family-friendly blog. (the poem is here, though, with standard language warnings.)
Dr. Leonard took some offense at his words being used out of context, and wrote to explain himself to the Old Gold and Black. He noted that a reader could interpret his quote as meaning that you could learn as much from a dead frog as from the “works of a dead poet.” He didn’t want to be part of a “two-cultures” controversy – probably a reference to disagreements between scientists and humanists. What he really meant by the quote was that “the only thing you can learn from a dead frog and a dead poet is anatomy. This was supposed to lead the hearer to the conclusion that scientists need books as well as laboratory supplies.” This was a reference to the earlier dispute over library book funds.
Ed Minus had a response in the same issue of the Old Gold and Black, though the editor explained that both had arrived independently. Evidently the poem in the Journal had caused a stir on campus. Minus wrote “Gee whiz! I sure am ashamed of myself – quoting out of context and talking dirty and making fun of my elders like that…”
From that point, the furor seemed to die down. However, about two years later, a Journal cover made another mysterious reference to the Frogs and Poets debate. If a reader didn’t know the back story, the diagram of a frog skeleton labeled with literary terms might make no sense. But to those who remembered the brief fracas, it was a clever joke.
And all this from a faculty dispute over book budgets and a comment at a Christmas party. Academics are definitely unique people!