More Tales of the Eggplant
After posting the Wall Street Journal article about the Society for the Celebration of Barthomania, I received the following e-mail:
Sir,
The Society for the Celebration of Barthomania have noted, with pleasure, the item about the Wall Street Journal clipping found recently in an e-Bay copy of Chimera.
Mr. Barth, “The Esteemed Object,” did indeed attend that 1973 luncheon meeting mentioned in the WSJ article. If you would care to receive a copy of how The Washington Star covered the event, I should be delighted to send you, by e-mail, the text of that story.
Equally available, should you care to see it, is the text of a slightly earlier article in The Washingtonian Magazine about how The Society for the Celebration &c came into being.
The Society these days consists of seven hard-core members, several of whom are Grandmasters, one of whom is an Identifiable Stranger, and one a Candidate in Perpetuity. We gathered most recently in downtown Washington, D.C., on May 20th, to observe The Esteemed Object’s 71st Barthday.
I remain your humble servant,
R. Skinner, Grandmaster Barthomaniac and the Society’s Sergeant Swiver
I did indeed ask for the articles, which I reprint below.
Barthomania Yes, Well, Wow — Right On!
Webmaster’s Note: My most beneficent source has informed me that this
article was originally published in Washingtonian magazine, November 1972, on page
20.
“So you see, all of were working in government agencies and apart from occasional periods of hysteria things often seemed increasingly routine or outright boring, so we got to reading John Barth’s novels, which are very, very funny. And it occurred to us — maybe that was the antidote; maybe if we all went crazy, deliberately, once a month….”
Thus was born the Society for the Celebration of Barthomania. With members from such agencies as the Department of Defense, the National Endowment for the Humanities, the National Science Foundation, and the Civil Service Commission itself, the Society is now in the third year of its campaign to get Washingtonians into the spirit of Barthomania.
What is that?
“Mania” is “excitement manifested by mental and physical hyperactivity, disorganization of behavior, and elevation of mood” and “excessive or unreasonable enthusiasm.” Both definitions fit the Society.
Accordingly, it sells John Barth bumper stickers. It bestows awards on those who exemplify Barthomania. The latest will be made to The Right Reverend William F. Creighton, Episcopal Bishop of Washington, for the excellence of the chimeras on the National Cathedral. Chimeras — imaginary monsters — are plentiful at the Cathedral and Chimera is the title of Barth’s latest book. The Society supports political candidates — it endorsed one who promised to introduce a bill in the Maryland legislature to create an official John Barth Day. But the Society spends most of its time firing off communications to literary critics, publishers, film makers, boards of education, librarians, and bookstore owners. There have been at least two replies.
One may ask: Why John Barth? The Society would answer, why not? First, Barth is a famous area author (though now teaching at the State University of New York at Buffalo) who not only comes from Maryland but features the state in three of his books. Second, he probably is the American author least inclined to take anything seriously. On the subject of a university student revolt, Barth commented, “The fact that the situation is desperate doesn’t make it any more interesting.” Third, it is the essence of the spirit of Barthomania not to have a respectable reason.
Anyone may see that spirit manifest by dropping into Marrocco’s Restaurant (1913 Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest) at noon when the Barthomaniacs are holding one of their irregular but monthly meetings (the November meeting is scheduled for the 14th). Ask the maitre d’ if “the eggplant group” is on hand. The eggplant is the Society’s totem, and a purple replica of that fruit sits on the table before the Swiver-in-Chief. The Society favors the eggplant because it is the chief ingredient in a recipe in one of Barth’s novels for increasing male sexual potency — the power “to swive.”
On a day when any grandmaster is present, one can readily see whether the Society is in session. A Grandmaster Barthomaniac is one who has read John Barth’s first five books (The Floating Opera, The End of the Road, The Sot-Weed Factor, Giles Goat-Boy, and Lost in the Funhouse), submitted a “learned paper” on Barth or Barthomania (sample title: “An Inquiry into the Significance of the Ascending Length of John Barth’s Novels”); and made a pilgrimage to the “Broad Choptank River,” which, by dint of running past Cambridge, Maryland, the place of Barth’s nativity, is held sacred by the Society.
Grandmasters stand out at any Barthomaniac meeting because of their official regalia — all homemade and extraordinarily visible. One wears a red replica of the official cap and sash of the French Academy; another, a red-orange cap and lilipipe derived from the Platonic Academy in fifteen-century Florence; another, a Mary Mungummory Pink (meaning whorehouse red) capette with ribbon and medallion, derivation uncertain; and another, a standard Oxonian academic cap and sash in Aubergine Purple and Grandmaster Green.
Membership is open to anyone willing to sit down at the group’s table. “Unidentifiable strangers,” as the Society designates visitors, appear at almost every meeting, and some even come back, accounting for the Society’s growth from three members to no one knows how many. Members vary widely in age and sex; secretaries sit side by side with government administrators. The main requirement is a capacity to drink, sing at the Society’s annual galas, and above all, laugh out loud.
And what does John Barth think of all this? The Society regularly sends him its minutes and other documents and has received four messages from him, which now form the Society’s motto, chanted antiphonally at every meeting.
The first Barth message, in its entirety, was: “Yes. Well. Wow.”
The second, in its entirety: “Right on.”
The third, in its entirety: “Surely… Goodness. Mercy!”
And the fourth (a response to a direct question from worried Barthomaniacs) — “The Society are not unloved.”
Esteemed Object Visits ‘Maniacs’
Webmaster’s Note: From the Washington Star-News of January 30, 1973. I have been informed that this article was accompanied by a Star-News staff photo of Mr. Barth smiling, holding in his right hand a life-size purple plastic eggplant. The photo was captioned “John Barth opens meeting.” If anybody can locate this picture, please e-mail me so I can post it to this website.
By LOUISE LAGUE
Star-News Staff Writer
It took 3 years, 4 months and 17 days to get him there, and when he came, it was not in cloth-of-gold amid the thunder of drums.
No, John Barth arrived at Marrocco’s Sorrento Room yesterday clad in pedestrian corduroy, his face and balding pate pink from cold and embarrassment, his grin wide and excruciatingly shy.
The occasion was his first meeting — his “virgin meeting,” he called it — with the Society for the Celebration of Barthomaniacs, a feisty group of mostly government employes [sic] who are extraordinarily fond of — some would say stark raving mad about — the works of Barth. These include The Sot-Weed Factor, Giles Goat Boy and four other best sellers that tickle a certain kind of funny bone.
Barth’s wife calls him John, his students at Boston University call him Mr. Barth, but the local Barthomaniacs call him the “Esteemed Object of Our Celebration,” or EOOOC for short.
IN THE LAST 3 1/2 years, the Barthomaniacs have increased in number from 2 to 20, each bearing a specific degree of Barthomanical status, from Acolyte Barthomaniac Junior Grade right up to Grand Master Barthomaniac. The four grand masters are those who have read Barth’s first five nivels [sic], submitted a learned paper on Barth, and made a pilgrimage to Cambridge, Md., where the EOOOC was born on May 27, 1930.
Only a grand master can be made Keeper of the Eggplant, a symbol chosen for its mention in The Sot-Weed Factor as a booster of sexual potency. The keeper, who this year is Civil Service Executive Merle Junker, is responsible for taking minutes at each monthly meeting and sending them to the EOOOC, who in the past has responded with brief messages on postcards, such as “Yes. Well, wow,” and “Surely… goodness. Mercy.” and “The Society are not unloved.”
But the Esteemed Object had never before appeared in the flesh, and so it was with some excitement and trepidation that the 20 members and 10 friends of fans assembled at Marrocco’s [sic] yesterday for the monthly eggplant-parmesan-and-chianti luncheon meeting.
Barth was ceremoniously seated behind a purple plastic eggplant and after a recitation of the SCB motto — consisting of his postcard messages to the society — treated them to a long, cryptic incantation of a greeting entirely composed of in-jokes derived from the minutes of previous meetings.
BEFORE ACCEPTING, Barth had expressed some concern about possibly destroying his mystical relationship with the society by making an appearance. So after the wine was poured and partially quaffed, a Bartomaniac [sic] propised [sic] a motion that “your mystical presence and glow does not diminish one whit with your presence.” It passed unanimously.
Among the guests was Anne Ward Crocker, who was a classmate of Barth’s both at Peach Blossom Elementary School and Cambridge High. Though pressed, Mrs. Crocker would not tell the assembled what Barth was like before he was Esteemed.
WHEN THE LAST eggplant dishes had been cleared away, society members came to Barth for autographs on their copies of his new novel Chimera.
“I just LOVED Giles Goat Boy,” breathed one woman into his flushing face.
“I feel,” said Barth, “absolutely Esteemed.”
The Esteemed Object’s visit was deemed such a success that he was invited to come back on June 16, 1976, exactly three years, four months, and seventeen days from the first coming.
To which he replied: “Er, yes… maybe.”