You may have seen the recent news story about a Russian punk rock band, Pussy Riot, that was charged with hooliganism for staging a performance critical of Russian President Vladimir Putin. Hooliganism? You can be arrested for that?
While you have no doubt heard of young thugs being referred to as hooligans in this country, to be arrested for being one sounds a bit silly to us: “What’r you in for?” “I’m a hooligan.” Sounds like something you should be sent to bed for without supper, not incarcerated. In Russia, however, hooliganism is basically what they call political dissent or some other disrespectful act that the authorities have no tolerance for. It’s the adult version of acting up.
The Oxford English Dictionary states that the word’s origin is uncertain. It first appeared in newspaper articles of the late 1890s in loose reference to a gang (Hooley’s Gang), and it was also mentioned in a popular song of the day that told of a rowdy Irish family – the Hooligans. There was also a popular comic strip in 1900 that featured a hapless hobo called Happy Hooligan, so the name has several connections to this time period.
It occurred to me that “Hooligan” would be a most unfortunate last name to have (not unlike “Hitler.”) So I did some research. According to the 2000 U.S. Census, the last name “Hooligan” is held by less than one hundred people, and possibly not by anyone (a full list of names is not available, only aggregates).
I do know this – if my last name were Hooligan (I am Irish, after all), I’d be soooo tempted to name my firstborn “Happy.”
I was checking out the strange-looking London Olympics mascots, Wenlock and Mandeville, today and got to wondering about the word “mascot.” I was surprised by what I found, especially as a fan of opera.
What do mascots have to do with opera, you ask? Well, it seems the word comes directly from an opera – an operetta, actually – entitled “La Mascotte” by the largely forgotten French composer Edmond Audran. I had never heard of this one, as it’s a bit obscure and not even listed in my Grove Book of Operas, the standard reference. I also had trouble tracking down a recording of it. The opera is about a farm girl who is believed to bring good luck to whoever she belongs to, as long as she remains a virgin (it’s a French comic opera, so you can imagine the scenarios . . .) It was quite popular in its day – which was the late 1800s – and led to the use of the Anglicized word “mascot” to mean something that brings good luck, which is what mascots were originally intended to do for sports teams.
The “mascotte” in the title is derived from a French slang term for witch, “masco.” The operetta is quite tuneful and lighthearted, not unlike the work of Offenbach– I’m listening to it now, a welcome discovery thanks to my curiosity about a word.
Quick – what is the last name of the man who painted the Mona Lisa and The Last Supper?
If you said “da Vinci,” you’re wrong. Actually, it’s a trick question. The man who painted these masterpieces had no last name. He simply went by “Leonardo.” He was the illegitimate child of a wealthy and respected gentleman, which helps explain why he was not honored with the family name. The moniker “da Vinci” means “from Vinci,” the area where he was born. This helped distinguish him from other Leonardos, and was a naming convention his father used as well. It is therefore improper to refer to him as “da Vinci,” which makes no grammatical sense (even though everyone will know who you’re talking about). The popular book and movie “The da Vinci Code” makes this error, basically translating as “The From Vinci Code.” A better, and correct, title would have been “The Leonardo Code,” which, to my mind, would have worked just as nicely. It is also acceptable to refer to Leonardo as “Leonardo da Vinci,” but that would have made for a long book title.
His contemporary, Michelangelo, also went by his first name. He did have a last one, which probably only art students know – Buonarroti. The famous Dutch painter Rembrandt may appear to be using his last name, but actually it is his first. His last name was van Rijn.
Ask your friends the opening question above and see if any of them get it right.
Did you ever wonder where certain products got their name? Scotch tape. Kleenex. Q-tips. We use these products every day, but they are so familiar that we may seldom ponder why they are called what they are.
Why is a swab of cotton on the end of a stick a “Q” tip? Why not an “A” tip or a “B” tip? Turns out the “Q” stands for quality. The product was originally named “Baby Gays,” as they were mostly used on babies. No one seems quite sure where the “gays” part came from, including the manufacturer (Unilever), but hey, it was the 1920s. Just another case of words changing meaning over time.
Scotch tape, made by the 3M company, got its name partly because the company’s founders were Scottish. There is also a legend that their new 1930s invention, cellophane tape, was accused of shoddy construction since it only had adhesive on the edges and not the entire surface. It was therefore “scotch,” or made on the cheap. The M’s in “3M,” incidentally, stand for Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, as the company started out in the mining industry.
As for Kleenex, the name is meant to denote “clean.” The “K” prefix and “-ex” suffix are borrowed from the Kimberly-Clark company’s first consumer brand, Kotex feminine products. Curiously, Kleenex were not originally intended as disposable handkerchiefs, but for the removal of cold cream. The nasal use significantly increased their popularity and sales.
All of these products had their birth in the 1920s and ‘30s, and all have become household words for their particular type of product, regardless of the trademark of the manufacturer.
There is an in-house commercial that plays over the P.A. system at work that uses the phrase “one fell swoop.” Since I hear this commercial dozens of times a day, the phrase has been sticking in my mind. What the heck is a “fell swoop?”
Turns out this phrase, like so many others in our language, originated with my favorite writer, William Shakespeare. He apparently was the first to use it, in the tragedy Macbeth. In this play, based on a real Scottish king, there are many tragic events, but perhaps the most heinous is the brutal murder of Macduff’s wife and children. When he learns of this crime, Macduff asks, “What, all my pretty chickens and their dam, at one fell swoop?” (IV.iii.218).
Here, “fell” means savage or deadly. The word is rarely used as an adjective today, which is why it may sound a bit odd in this expression. However, the next time you hear it, you’ll know where it came from. Macbeth is also the source of the saying “what’s done is done,” as well as the movie/book title “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” And for all you Star Trek fans out there, it was the source of the original series episode title “Dagger of the Mind,” one of many Trek titles taken from the bard.
May Day. Maypoles. Cinco de Mayo. What’s up with all these references to May? Today we’re going to look at that first one, May Day. You may know this as some sort of vague holiday, and also as a radio distress signal. But where did these originate?
Like many holidays, May Day is pagan in origin. It is basically a celebration of Spring (or summer, depending on where you live). In many places it is quite a lively celebration, and yes, there is often dancing around a “maypole.” The reason this all may be unfamiliar is because we don’t really celebrate May Day in this country, though we do celebrate Cinco de Mayo (“fifth of May”), a holiday to recognize Mexican heritage. It marks the date of a Mexican victory over France in 1862.
To further complicate matters, “May Day” is also celebrated, especially by organized labor, as a worker’s holiday. It marks the day in 1886 when the workday was to be shortened to eight hours.
But my larger concern here is how “May Day” came to be an international distress call, which actually is one of my favorite word-origin stories. What connection is there between a celebration of Spring and a pilot in distress? Absolutely none. What we have here is a case of homophones – words that sound alike but mean different things. The “mayday” call was originated in 1923 by a British radio officer, and it has nothing to do with the month of May. People who use the distress call probably don’t realize that they’re essentially speaking French. The call comes from the French phrase “m’aider.” And what does that mean?
We’re going to look at O.K. today, okay?
This “word” (or, depending on the form used, these initials) came on the scene around 1840. There was something of a fad at the time of using initials to represent words, much like we do today with Internet slang (brb, lol, lmao, etc.). “O.K.” was initialized shorthand for “orl korrect,” which itself was a slang alteration of “all correct.” Aiding the popularity of this shorthanded notation was its use by telegraphers, not unlike those who take shortcuts with the language today when texting – r u going to b there?”
There was also another development around this time that popularized the initials “O.K.” and that was the presidential campaign of Martin Van Buren. Van Buren was from Kinderhook, New York, and had the nickname of “Old Kinderhook.” A group of Democrats formed the “O.K. Club” to promote Van Buren’s reelection, and the use of the slogan/chant “OK!” was instrumental in popularizing these initials to mean what they do currently: all right. Van Buren ultimately lost reelection to William Henry Harrison, who only served in office for one month before his death from pneumonia.
It would be another fifty years before the word would take the form of “okay” in print, and thirty more still before we would see “okey-dokey” in the early 1930s. “A-okay” came on the scene with the space program of the early 1960s, used by astronauts (and picked up by newsmen) to mean “all okay.”