Richard Sodikow, debate god

My daughter asked if she could go home early from a tournament because a friend of hers had a car to drive her back. I was jealous. The car was a cute little sports convertible. “I remember one time,” Sodikow responded to this, “when I looked out the window at a tournament and saw a bunch of students driving around the parking lot in a convertible, none of them sitting in the seats, all of them standing up and acting like idiots. And then I realized, they were my idiots.”

*

Sodikow was one of the founders of the Mid-Hudson (now Metro-Hudson) League. He would always host the first-timers’ event. At the end of the day during the awards ceremony, he would ask the assembled novices if, A, they had enjoyed themselves, and B, if they had learned anything. If they could answer yes to both questions, they would be debaters for the next four years. During the awards ceremony now, I ask them the same questions, since those are the only two good reasons one ought to bother with debate, and if you can’t answer yes to both, what’s the point?

*

There was a point early in his career, he told me, when he had to decide between Stuyvesant and the Bronx. At the former, he probably would have gone more of a drama route, as compared to the debate route at the latter. And then he described with lust in his eyes to state-of-the-art theater complex Stuyvesant had later built in its new location. And then he shrugged. “I did manage to be New York Teacher of the Year, so I guess it worked out fine.”

*

I learned to tab, on index cards, at MHLs under Sodikow’s tutelage. He also tabbed Bump for me, back in the day, but not on index cards. When tabbing first went digital, it was on Macs only, and a testy program it was. While he would wait for the machine to calculate, he would slowly rub the chassis of his computer, presumably to relay to it warm and comfortable thoughts so that it wouldn’t crash, which it was prone to do more often than not. That’s my image of him in tab, staring off into space, massaging the rounds out of his laptop.

*

On the 6 hour bus ride home from Edison HS, below DC, in the wee hours, he would sit in the front seat on the right and sing opera just slightly above a whisper. 6 hours of opera.

*

Sister Raimonde, another debate god, ran the NYSFL with an iron hand. When she spoke, everyone listened. Back then, Soddie ran policy tab, in a building off by itself, running a bit late this particular year. While we were waiting for him and the results, the rest of the award ceremony was in full swing. The gym we were in was packed to the gills with forensicians, but as Sister Raimonde announced this and that, she commanded everyone’s complete attention. No one else would dare speak while she was on the podium. At the last possible moment, Soddie showed up with the results from policy and delivered them to Sister. She got to them a moment later, and said something to the effect that she especially wanted to thank Mr. Sodikow this year now that he was retiring. From somewhere in the gym, a shocked and stunned student’s voice immediately rang out into the otherwise respectful silence: “Sodikow’s retiring?”

The entire gymnasium broke out in hysterics. Then Sister Raimonde, who was not amused, raised an eyebrow. Silence returned immediately, and the awards ceremony concluded without further incident.

*

A student of mine was being dogged by a kid from another school who was totally infatuated with her, much to her dismay. At one tournament, he sidled up to her and gave her a little package with a necklace in it. She came to me asking what to do. “So this boy gave her a present,” I said to Sodikow. “She’s pregnant?” he immediately responded. “I hate when that happens.”

This particular incident, and this interchange, eventually worked their way into Nostrum.

*

Anyone reading Nostrum could tell that Manhattan Lodestone (“A Magnet School”) and its coach, Mr. Lo Pat, could only be Bronx Science (transported to midtown) and Sodikow. The Round Robin, the unique LD topic, the fearsome debate god—what else could it be? When Nostrum came back for a second series, after a long break, Sodikow had long been retired, and in the new series, Mr. Lo Pat was also no longer at Manhattan Lodestone, having been replaced by Halefoil Cumcut, who was loosely based on Jon Cruz. Art imitates life, and all that. Of course, in fiction, Mr. Lo Pat had been set upon by the unknown “Halibut Killer,” and one of the regrets I have about Nostrum is never explaining who, indeed, was the wielder of that deadly samurai sword. Anyhow, I am proud to say that, when I began putting together the final ultimate version earlier this year, I found among the correspondence of Jules O’Shaughnessy and the Vast Nostrumian Army fan mail I had forgotten from RBS himself.

It was the best note I ever got. I figured if Sodikow liked Nostrum, I had won over my most important audience.