shock and awe

Two US M-1 Abrams tanks passing underneath the “Hands of Victory” arch in Baghdad, 13 November 2003. The arch, one of two, consists of two outstretched hands holding swords that form the arch.

Two US M-1 Abrams tanks passing underneath the “Hands of Victory” arch in Baghdad, 13 November 2003. The arch, one of two, consists of two outstretched hands holding swords that form the arch.

23 September 2022

The phrase shock and awe came to the fore during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. The phrase was a term of art in the US military for the overwhelming application of military force to suddenly and completely destroy the enemy’s will to fight, achieving the military objectives with comparatively few casualties on the attacking side.

While one can find the co-location of shock and awe in many contexts stretching back a century or more, its use as a lexical item stems from a 1996 book, Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance by Harlan Ullman and James Wade and published by the US National Defense University. Ullman and Wade write:

The key objective of Rapid Dominance is to impose this overwhelming level of Shock and Awe against an adversary on an immediate or sufficiently timely basis to paralyze its will to carry on. In crude terms, Rapid Dominance would seize control of the environment and paralyze or so overload an adversary’s perceptions and understanding of events so that the enemy would be incapable of resistance at tactical and strategic levels. An adversary would be rendered totally impotent and vulnerable to our actions. To the degree that nonlethal weaponry is useful, it would be incorporated into the ability to Shock and Awe and achieve Rapid Dominance.

Theoretically, the magnitude of Shock and Awe Rapid Dominance seeks to impose (in extreme cases) is the non-nuclear equivalent of the impact that the atomic weapons dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki had on the Japanese. The Japanese were prepared for suicidal resistance until both nuclear bombs were used. The impact of those weapons was sufficient to transform both the mindset of the average Japanese citizen and the outlook of the leadership through this condition of Shock and Awe. The Japanese simply could not comprehend the destructive power carried by a single airplane. This incomprehension produced a state of awe.

Following the publication of the book, the phrase started appearing in defense journals and reports, indicating widespread adoption within the American armed forces. But it remained restricted to those circles, rarely breaking out into the mainstream press. One of the rare exceptions is an appearance in Newsweek on 1 December 1997 that quotes Ullman:

The only way to achieve a relatively bloodless victory over a well-armed opponent is to deploy so much force, so swiftly, that the enemy is overcome by what military analyst Harlan Ullman calls “a regime of shock and awe.” It’s the technique of the street mugger: sudden, stunning violence that paralyzes the victim’s will to fight back. So if you are a military planner looking out into the 21st century, what you want is an arsenal of new weapons that will produce “shock and awe.” The process of developing such an arsenal is what defense thinkers call “the revolution in military affairs”—a concept so important that, in military speak, it rates an acronym: RMA.

It isn’t until the run-up to US invasion of Afghanistan in October 2001 that the phrase begins to appear in the mainstream press with any frequency. Here is an example from the British Daily Telegraph on 27 September 2001:

The US armada will exploit its overwhelming firepower to devastate the Taliban in a policy of "shock and awe", defence analysts said yesterday.

[…]

According to Professor Air Vice Marshal Tony Mason, head of defence studies at Birmingham University, in-flight refuelling tankers would be a key indicator.

"In-flight refuelling will be essential," he said. The US have some KC-10 tankers in the huge base at Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean. Analysts agree that when air power is called for, and it will be, it will be on a huge scale—a policy christened "shock and awe".

"One of the lessons of Kosovo was that the gradual build-up of attacks did not have the right effect on the regime [in Belgrade]," said Nigel Vinson, a specialist at the Royal United Services Institute. "You need to deploy `shock and awe' from the very beginning."

And shock and awe became a household term during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. Here is an example from the Los Angeles Times of 5 May 2002 describing the planning for that invasion:

Launching ground and air attacks simultaneously—instead of leading off with a substantial air assault first to soften up Iraqi defenses—would produce shock and awe in enemy forces, according to early briefing documents. “It was a lead-with-your-chin, ground-only war,” a senior officer not in the Army said. But, he added, “The only shock and awe inspired was the ‘you gotta be [kidding] me’ look” it evoked in critics.

[…]

As planning continued into April, the internal questioning continued too. “How can you have shock and awe and deploy such a massive ground force at the same time?” one officer asked. Though the Army has positioned tanks and armored vehicles in Kuwait and Qatar, deployment of large numbers of troops could not be kept secret and might well provoke an Iraqi response.

The brackets around kidding are in the original. The actual quote was probably something on the order of “you gotta be shitting me.”

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Sources:

Arkin, William M. “Planning an Iraqi War but Not an Outcome.” Los Angeles Times, 5 May 2002, M3. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Google Books Ngram Viewer, 24 August 2022.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2022, s.v. shock, n.3.

Rooney, Ben. “Bomb Blitz Will ‘Shock and Awe’ the Taliban, the Military.” Daily Telegraph (London), 27 September 2001, 10. Gale Primary Sources: The Telegraph.

Ullman, Harlan K., and James P. Wade. Shock and Awe: Achieving Rapid Dominance. Washington, DC: National Defense University, 1996, xxv–xxvi.

Watson, Russell and John Barry. “Tomorrow’s New Face of Battle.” Newsweek (special issue), 1 December 1997, 66. ProQuest Magazines.

Photo credit: Technical Sergeant John L. Houghton, Jr., USAF, 2013. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain image.

proof of the pudding

A haggis (the “great chieftain o the puddin'-race”) served on a bed of lettuce. An animal’s stomach, presumably a sheep’s, that has been cooked and sliced open, revealing that it has been stuffed with sheep’s organs, onion, oatmeal, suet, and spices.

A haggis (the “great chieftain o the puddin'-race”) served on a bed of lettuce. An animal’s stomach, presumably a sheep’s, that has been cooked and sliced open, revealing that it has been stuffed with sheep’s organs, onion, oatmeal, suet, and spices.

21 September 2022

The original form of this adage is the proof of the pudding is in the eating. It may seem to be an odd phrase to many present-day readers, especially in its shortened form, as it uses a sense of proof that isn’t all that common anymore, that is a sense meaning test—the ultimate test of food is in how it tastes, not in who cooks it or in how it is presented.

The phrase dates to the early seventeenth century when it appears in John Taylor’s 1615 poem “My Defence Against Thy Offence.” In the poem, Taylor attacks fellow poet William Fennar, a “rimer” of low reputation, who had been accused of publishing under the name of Richard Vennar, a more highly regarded poet:

So much to them, whose harts will not beleeue
But that in Poetry I filch and theeue.
I dare them all to try me, and leaue threating,
The proofe of pudding’s always in the eating:
Thus I haue told thee, why, wherefore, and how
His Majesty did thee that Name allow;
The name of Rimer carry to they graue,
But stile of Poet, thou shalt neuer haue.
Search well in Turnbole-street, or in Pickthatch,
Neere Shorditch, or Long-alley prethee watch,
And ’mongst the trading females; chuse out nine
To be thy Muses, they will fit thee fine.

(The OED erroneously cites William Camden’s 1605 Remaines, an anthology of earlier works, as using the phrase, but it does not appear in that work until the 1623 edition, where it appears in a list of proverbs.)

Over the years, the phrase was often clipped to just the proof of the pudding.

As proof in the test sense became less common, people began to re-analyze the phrase with the sense of proof meaning evidence. But the combination of the new sense and the clipped form is somewhat nonsensical, so the wording the proof is in the pudding began to appear.

That particular wording appears in a 30 May 1863 letter to the Hereford Times arguing in favor of vegetarianism:

I trust you have “proofs” enough; if not, I will give you some of another kind. I was brought up like you to get my living by sweat of brain rather than sweat of brow. I am about your age and size, and now (I am not a proud man) I will challenge you to a week at spade and barrow, and I’ll soon show you the “proof” is in the pudding and not in the beef.

But this is not quite an example of the re-analysis. The writer is playing with the dual sense of proof, using it in the evidence sense when he says, “I trust you have ‘proofs’ enough, and in the test sense in “the ‘proof’ is in the pudding.”

But we do see the evidence sense in this advertisement for a medicinal tonic in San Francisco’s Daily Examiner of 24 August 1887:

THE PROOF IS IN THE PUDDING.

Dr. Henley’s Celery, Beef and Iron contains greater elements of strength than any known tonic. We believe it has greater merit and has cured more nervous troubles and weaknesses in humanity than any known remedy. Sold by all druggists and country dealers.

And on the other side of the United States, we see it in this ad for a men’s clothier from Jersey City’s Evening Journal of 27 April 1904:

The Values We Offer need no comment. They stand as a monument to our unceasing efforts to provide for the people of Hudson County the very best that experts can produce at a price lower than inferior goods are sold elsewhere. The proof is in the pudding. Use your eyes and your powers of deduction. They will tell you all that’s necessary.

But, at least according to Google Ngrams, the proof is in the pudding phrasing remained relatively rare until the latter half of the twentieth century, when it increased in frequency considerably. Still, it remains the less common phrasing.

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Sources:

“10th Anniversary Sale” (advertisement). Evening Journal (Jersey City, New Jersey), 27 April 1904, 3. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Advertisement. Daily Examiner (San Francisco), 24 August 1887, 8. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Camden, William. Remaines of a Greater Worke, Concerning Britaine. London: George Eld for Simon Waterson, 1605. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

———. Remaines, Concerning Britaine. London: Nicholas Okes for Simon Waterson, 1623. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Google Books Ngram Viewer, 23 August 2022.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2007, s.v. pudding, n.

Taylor, John. “My Defence Against Thy Offence.” A Cast Ouer the Water. London: William Butler, 1615, sig. C. Google Books.

Tréguer, Pascal. “‘The Proof of the Pudding Is in the Eating’: Meaning, Origin, and Variants.” Wordhistories.net. 12 November 2017.

“A Word with the Vegetarians.” Hereford Times (England), 30 May 1863, 13. Gale Primary Sources: British Library Newspapers.

Photo credit: Tess Watson, 2007. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

lobby / lobbyist

Sign in the Maryland State House reading, “No Lobbyists Beyond This Point.”

Sign in the Maryland State House reading, “No Lobbyists Beyond This Point.”

19 September 2022

In present-day political parlance, a lobby is an interest group that actively petitions legislators in a systematic and organized fashion to support its policies and to lobby is to engage in such activity. The word comes from the idea that such petitioners would gather in the antechamber, or lobby, of the legislative hall in order to speak to the legislators.

That architectural sense of lobby comes from the medieval Latin lobia or lobium, meaning a gallery or portico. We see it in English by 1563, when it appears in Thomas Becon’s The Reliques of Rome, a Protestant tract that outlined the corruption, real or imagined, in the Roman Catholic Church. The following quotation is from a section on anchorites, or recluses who resided in chambers built into the walls of churches, living a life of prayer and meditation, and relying on alms for their maintenance:

Our Recluses as persons onelye borne to consume the frutes of the erth, liue idlely of the labour of other mens handes. Iudith, when tyme required, came oute of her closet to do good vnto other. Our Recluses neuer come out of their lobbeis sincke or swimme the people

And there is this from 1596, from Michael Drayton’s Mortimeriados, a poem about the baronial revolt against King Edward II in 1321–22. This passage relates the death of two of the rebellious barons:

His trustie Neuill, and young Turrington,
Courting the Ladies, frolick voyd of feare,
Staying delights whilst time away doth runne,
What rare Emprezas hee and he did beare,
Thus in the Lobby whilst they sporting weare:
Assayld on sudaine by this hellish trayne,
Both in the entrance miserably slayne.

We see the word lobby applied to the antechamber of the English parliament at Westminster by 1692. From John Rushworth’s Historical Collections of Private Passages of State, relating events of 1640:

On Monday April 13 [1640], the Parliament opened at Westminster. Now because we desire to keep strictly to point of Time, let Military preparations be post-poned till the end of this Parliament, which was dissolved the fifth of May following.

But before the Parliament opened, a Proclamation was made before the Lord Steward in the Lobby as followeth.

But it is in the American context that we see lobby applied to the people who would gather in such an antechamber to buttonhole the politicians. The following quotation is from an account of the congressional debate on a proposal to remove the seat of government from Washington, DC to Philadelphia that occurred on 2 February 1808. (In 1808, the US capital was a collection of ramshackle buildings in the midst of a swamp. No one particularly enjoyed being there.) The writer is attempting to capture the words of Matthew Lyon, a Democratic-Republican from Kentucky. As we shall see from the next quotation, it is not an exact transcript of Lyon’s words, but the summary of his speech, written in the first person, that dates from 11 February 1808:

We have heard it said that if we move to Philadelphia we shall have a commanding lobby; we shall learn the sentiments of the population! The only inducement which influenced me to be a little satisfied at moving to Philadelphia, was, because Congress were almost overawed by the population of the city; measures were dictated by that city. I had rather move into a wilderness; I do not want to go among these people; I have seen too much of them. I have seen the time when members of this House could not walk the streets in safety. I have seen the time when men with cockades in their hats would say “there goes one of the d——d minority.” I can never forget the insults I received in Philadelphia whilst in the minority.

Evidently it was a thing in the early nineteenth century to put summaries of speeches in the first person, as if it were the speech itself. A differently worded summary of Lyon’s 2 February 1808 speech appears in the Washington Federalist of 20 February:

I have, sir, heard talk of a lobby influence, for which we ought to go to Philadelphia.—I can tell the gentlemen who wish to leave this place for the sake of the influence the merchants of a great city would have over our deliberations, I shall be the last man to be influenced by such considerations. I wish we had more mercantile experience—more mercantile experience in this house—but I want it should come in at the front door. I want to have an influence for the benefit of the whole nation, not for the benefit of a single city.

Drawing of two US Representatives brawling on the House floor in 1798. Roger Griswold (CT), right, armed with a cane, battles Matthew Lyon (VT), armed with tongs; other members cheer them on. The fight started when Lyon spit in Griswold's face.

To digress a bit, in 1798 Matthew Lyon, while serving as a representative from Vermont, spit in another representative's face, resulting in a brawl on the House floor. Also, Lyon is the only member of Congress to have been elected while serving time in prison. In October 1798, he was imprisoned for violating the Alien and Sedition Acts for publishing criticism of President John Adams, and he was re-elected to his seat the following month. Now, back to the main story…

The verb to lobby is in use by 1820, when it appears in an article about the Missouri Compromise over whether newly admitted states should allow slavery or not. From the New Hampshire Sentinel of 1 April 1820:

Other letters from Washington affirm, that members of the Senate, when the compromise question was to be taken to the House, were not only “lobbying about the Representatives’ Chamber," but were active in endeavoring to intimidate certain weak representatives by insulting threats to dissolve the Union, and openly declaring, that unless the compromise were acceded to, they would immediately dissolve the Senate and go home.

And we get the noun lobbyist by 25 August 1842 in an article in the Daily Cincinnati Enquirer:

The whigs of Brooklyn have held a meeting, and appointed a committee of lobbyists to proceed forthwith to Washington to persuade Congress to give up the land distribution, in order to secure protection.

And there is this interesting piece about the success of women lobbyists that appeared in Washington, DC’s Daily Globe on 30 January 1857:

In classifying the lobby members of Congress the female representatives of the “third house” occupy no unimportant position. Indeed, I may say that one experienced female lobbyist is equal in point of influence to any three schemers of the other sex with whom I am acquainted. Every session draws to Washington a number of these feminine birds of passage, as well as prey, and you will find their names at Willard’s, Brown’s, the National, or wherever members most do congregate; and not a great measure comes before Congress that they do not have an important, if not a conspicuous “finger in the pie.”

Besides showing that feminism was alive and well in the nineteenth century, this last quotation hints at the etymythology that surrounds the word lobby. According to the myth, the word comes from the practice of petitioners buttonholing legislators in the lobby of noted Washington hotels, in the stories it is usually the Willard Hotel. The myth also often dates to the practice to the Grant administration (1869–77). But as we have seen the word predates that administration as well as all three hotels mentioned in the quotation. Willard’s Hotel dates to 1847, although hotels had been on that site since 1816. The National Hotel was founded in 1827 and Brown’s Indian Queen Hotel in 1820, all after the political sense of lobby had been established.

Discuss this post


Sources:

Becon, Thomas. The Reliques of Rome. London: John Day, 1563, fol. 53r. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

Blaise, Albert. Lexicon Latinitatis medii aeui. Turnhout: Brepols, 1975, s.v. lobia (lobium). Brepols: Database of Latin Dictionaries.

“Debate. On the Proposition for the Removal of the Seat of Government to Philadelphia” (2 February 1808). Universal Gazette (Washington, DC), 11 February 1808, 1. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Drayton, Michael. Mortimeriados. The Lamentable Ciuell Warres of Edward the Second and the Barrons. London: James Roberts for Humphry Lownes, 1596, sig. R. Early English Books Online (EEBO).

“Female Lobby Members.” The Daily Globe (Washington, DC), 30 January 1857, 3. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. lobby, n., lobbyist, n., lobby, v.

Rushworth, John. Historical Collections of Private Passages of State, vol. 3 of 8. London: Thomas Newcomb for George Thomason, 1692, 1104. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

“Slavery.” New Hampshire Sentinel (Keene), 1 April 1820, 1. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

“Symptoms of Dissolution.” Daily Cincinnati Enquirer (Ohio), 25 August 1842, 3. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

“Tuesday, Feb. 2, Debate” (1808). Washington Federalist (Georgetown, DC), 20 February 1808, 3. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Image credits:

“No Lobbyists Beyond This Point.” Daniel Huizinga, 2014. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

“Congressional Pugilists,” unknown artist, 1798, Library of Congress. Public domain image.

jazz

A head-and-shoulders portrait of Louis Armstrong, facing left and playing the trumpet

A head-and-shoulders portrait of Louis Armstrong, facing left and playing the trumpet

16 September 2022

(Update: 25 September, Gerald Cohen has provided me with facsimiles of the 1913 San Francisco Bulletin articles, so I am relying on those rather than secondary sources that quote them. I’ve also added some commentary about Gleeson’s 1913 uses of jazz.)

Jazz is, of course, a musical genre, but its name is the subject of much etymological debate. The word’s origins have been fairly well documented for over twenty years, but less-well-informed and regionally partisan ideas of its origin have held on. While jazz music originated among Black musicians in New Orleans, the name itself was first applied to the genre by white musicians elsewhere who were appropriating the musical style.

Surprisingly, jazz first arose in the slang of West Coast baseball, where it had the sense of pep, vigor, enthusiasm. It became associated with music through a band that played for the San Francisco Seals during their 1913 spring training, and from there it was spread by itinerant musicians to Chicago and elsewhere.

Where the sense of jazz meaning pep or vigor comes from, however, is still a bit of a mystery. The most likely explanation is that it arises from jasm, a nineteenth-century slang term meaning energy or pep. Here’s a use from the 1860 novel Miss Gilbert’s Career by J.G. Holland:

“No mistake about that. Oh! she’s just as full of jasm!”

 Frank Sargent laughed again. “You’ve got the start of me,” said he. “Now tell me what ‘jasm’ is.”

“Well, that’s a sort of word, I guess, that made itself,” said Cheek. “It’s a good one, though—jasm is. If you’ll take thunder and lightning, and a steamboat and a buzz-saw, and mix ’em up, and put ’em into a woman, that’s jasm.”

Jasm, in turn, is a variant of jism or gism, which originally carried the same meaning. Here is an example in a description of an October 1842 horse race from the turf magazine Spirit of the Times:

At the drawgate Spicer tried it on again, but his horse was knocked up—“the gism” and the starch were effectually taken out of him by the long and desperate struggles he had been obliged to maintain, so that “he couldn’t come it.” He broke at the gate, and “the race was over all but the shouting!”

By the end of the nineteenth century, jism would also develop the sense of semen or seminal fluid—a metaphorical extension of energy and vitality to the creation of life—but this sexual connotation doesn’t figure directly into the development of jazz, which would be a cousin of, rather than a descendent of, the sexual sense.

We see jazz recorded in reference to baseball at the beginning of the 1912 season. It appears in the Los Angeles Times of 2 April 1912, uttered by Portland Beavers pitcher Ben Henderson as the name of a variation on the curveball that he had invented:

BEN’S JAZZ CURVE

“I got a new curve this year,” sofetly [sic] murmured Henderson yesterday, “and I’m goin’ to pitch one or two of them tomorrow. I call it the Jazz ball because it wobbles and you simply can’t do anything with it.”

As prize fighters who invent new punches are always the first to get theirs Ben will probably be lucky if some guy don’t hit that new Jazzer ball a mile today. It is to be hoped that some unintelligent compositor does not spell that the Jag[?] ball. That’s what it must be at that as it[?] wobbles.

(The digital scan of this article that I have access to is not a particularly good one.)

The following day, it appeared again in the Los Angeles Times, this time with the spelling jass:

Of course, they will want to know what the first ball pitched by each slabster was. Well, Leverenz got away with a nice straight strike, and Henderson cut the outside corner with a fast curve also for one strike. Benny calls this his “jass” ball.

But it was the following year that jazz would break into the big time. It was evidently in oral use in California baseball circles for at least a year until it was picked up by San Francisco sportswriter E.T. “Scoop” Gleeson in his accounts of the San Francisco Seals’ 1913 training camp at Boyes Spring in Sonoma County. Gleeson would use the word to describe the Seals’ mood and attitude in a series of articles for the San Francisco Bulletin beginning on 3 March 1913. The first of these is as follows and is somewhat out of step with Gleeson’s uses of the word that would come later:

Just as Joe Gedeon jumped into prominence last season during the training siege at Paso Robles, so also has George Clifford McCarl, who gives his age as 24 years and his home as Davenport, Iowa, captured the plaudits of the little group at Seal headquarters.

One might venture the guess that McCarl is even a little better ball player than Gedeon, since he has done a lot of stepping around at all preliminary stages of the practice season.

[…]

McCarl has been heralded all along the lines as a “busher,” but now it develops that this dope is very much to the “jazz.”

Linguist Gerald Cohen, who deserves plaudits for much of the research work on the origins of jazz, notes that the word here means “hot air,” and the OED follows suit placing it as the earliest citation under that sense of the word. And from a straightforward reading of Gleeson’s article that would seem to be the case. From the records, it appears that McCarl broke into organized ball with the Seals in 1913, and from Gleeson’s account there were doubts about his abilities, but he showed great promise in spring training. Hence, the “dope” about him was just “jazz.” But in retrospect, the dope proved correct, and he was indeed a “busher.” Once the season started, McCarl would only play thirteen games with the Seals, and his performance was lackluster (.250 batting average). He was traded to the Spokane Indians of the Northwestern League where he played out the season. He played in that league for three more years with the Vancouver and Butte teams; his performance there was good for that level of ball, but evidently not good enough to re-attract the attention of higher-level leagues.

But this is Gleeson’s only use of jazz in this sense. It seems likely that jazz was carrying the sense of hype in oral use, and Gleeson extended that meaning to encompass confidence and energy. He would use that extended sense a few days later in a 6 March 1913 article in the Bulletin:

The Seals are down from Boyes Springs for tomorrow's first engagement with the Sox and now we’ll get a round of real baseball. The squad numbers fifteen men and reached the city shortly after 10 o'clock, having departed from the Spa before the camp was awake.

Everybody has come back to the old town full of the old “jazz” and they promise to knock the fans off their feet with their playing.

What is the “jazz”? Why, it’s a little of that “old life,” the “gin-i-ker,” the “pep,” otherwise known as the enthusiasalum [sic]. A grain of “jazz” and you feel like going out and eating your way through Twin Peaks. It’s that spirit which makes ordinary ball players step around like Lajoies and Cobbs. The Seals have it and we venture to say that everybody in the big town who has ever stopped to “pan” the San Francisco club in the past several months will be inoculated with it by the time the coming string of games is over.

“Hap” Hogan gave his men a couple of shots of “near-jazz” last season and look at what resulted—the Tigers became the most ferocious set of tossers in the league. Now the Seals have happened upon great quantities of it in the quiet valley of Sonoma and they’re setting the countryside on fire.

The team which speeded into town this morning comes pretty close to representing the pick of the army. Its members have trained on ragtime and “jazz” and manager Del Howard says there’s no stopping them. Class will not be denied, and whether they are ball players or not the members of the first squad will not be wanting in spirit and determination.

“We’ll stand ’em on their heads,” says “Tub” Spencer with a Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingford brand of confidence. “Just let us tangle with Ed Walsh and these Chicago fellers a few times, and San Francisco will move to Boyes Springs for the balance of the training season.[”]

Remember last year how all these Seal boys were saying unkind things about each other; how the policeman didn’t like the pitcher, the pitchers didn’t like the catcher, and everybody in general was at swords’ points with the management? Well, that’s over, boys. Howard has fixed that—Howard and the “jazz.”

[…]

Meanwhile, keep your eye on the Seal outfit. The players are just brimming over with that old “Texas Tommy” stuff and there is a bit of the “jazz” in everything they do.

Gleeson’s pairing of ragtime and jazz in this article hints that jazz may have been used to refer to the musical genre this early, but it is more likely that Gleeson is just comparing the vibrant musical style of ragtime with the Seals’ style of baseball. And two days later, on 8 March 1913, Gleeson wrote:

“Tub” Spencer’s work sparkled while he was doing duty behind the log. “Spence,” who looks like a whole bunch of catchers, zipped that old pill around the infield like a Jimmy Archer. He opened a can of “jazz” at the tap of the gong and everybody was pettered [sic] up when the blue-clad batsman faced the elongated “Cac” Henley for the first frame.

Those sitting directly behind the catcher asserted that “Handsome” didn’t have anything much on the ball, but the Sox players didn’t seem to feel that way about it. Harry Lord did connect for a homer and a double, but that’s about the heaviest thumping that “Cac” received. When his own teammates came back at a spitball twirler—Douglas by name, a recruit from the Western League—and chased a few runs over the rubber, Henley breathed a bit easier and put a little more of the old “jazz” on the pill.

The following week, on 14 March 1913, Gleeson would use it in reference to the then-current Pacific Coast League Champions, the Oakland Oaks:

Right now listlessness seems to be each tosser’s middle name and it behooves somebody in authority to get a move on and instill a little of the old “jazz” into the troupe of Champions.

[…]

Before the string of games with the major leaguers began nobody would have given two pins for the Seal team. Ask a fan what he thought about the coming race and he would be most likely to observe that the Oaks looked like repeaters. A few days has made all the difference in the world up at Boyes, where there’s “jazz” in the morning dew, “jazz” in the daily bath and “jazz” in the natural spring water. Manager Howard has succeeded in developing a team that really looks good. Even if there is one “jagger” in among the crowd of “jazzers” prospects are none the less bright.

Here, and in the 8 March article, Gleeson is using jazz specifically in reference to pitching, which ties his use of the word back to Ben Henderson’s use the year before. But in general, Glesson is using the word more expansively. And on 24 March 1913, Gleeson would use it to refer to a jazz party, a possible early connection to musical style:

The very man you may have been touting around the cigar shop as a wizard may be shunted to Vallejo or some other far-off pasture. One never can tell how the aspirants in the spring practice are to be handled. This is about the time when the first inoculation of the old “jazz” wears off and much of the early effulgence of the busher begins to pale. Unless there is a kind-hearted manager in sight to come to the rescue or unless the player is a relative of the club owner things are apt to be pretty tough with him.

[…]

This is the last week of the boys at Boyes, and a grand “jazz” party has been prepared for the last night. At that time the Seals will be wished all kinds of success by the camp followers, and farewells will be exchanged until another year.

Art Hickman’s Orchestra, c.1919. Ten musicians in suits and straw boaters posing at playing a variety of instruments. Hickman is at right on the drums.

Art Hickman’s Orchestra, c.1919. Ten musicians in suits and straw boaters posing at playing a variety of instruments. Hickman is at right on the drums.

The jazz party is undoubtedly a reference to the fact that the Seals had hired Art Hickman’s Orchestra to play for them in the evenings at Boyes Springs. Hickman’s band played what was then known as ragtime or swing and following their engagement by the Seals were hired to play at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco. Hickman was one of the white early adopters of the ragtime musical style being played by Black musicians out of New Orleans. This phrase jazz party here seems to denote a lively affair rather than one where jazz music is played, but jazz music was in fact played there. So, it’s not a use of the word as a label for the music, but it comes close. Ironically, given his role in naming the genre, Hickman did not like jazz as a label for his music and never used it himself.

The next day we get a published use of jazz by someone other than Gleeson. Francis J. Mannix writes in the Bulletin of 25 March 1913 and specifically connects jazz to Hickman’s band:

Art Hickman, the jovial dispenser of mirth at the springs, met the guests at Verano with a giant gas buggy and brought them over to the hotel, where a great repast was spread in their honor. The old “jazz” was introduced to the boys, and the key of the place—some difficulty was found in locating it—turned over to them.

By 30 April 1913 we see another California paper, the Sacramento Bee, use jazz, again in reference to the Seals who were imparting jazz to the opposing Sacramento Senators (a.k.a. the Solons):

When last we saw the Senators, they were an amiable, uncomplaining set of tossers, willing to accomodiate [sic] almost any team with four or five games, or even an entire series if it was needed badly. But the club under Wolverton has wrought an unmistakable change in their deportment. There is about them now a suggestion of aggressiveness which has all the earmarks of the original old “jazz,” and the San Francisco fans were not slow to recognize it.

“Some team, that!” “Likely looking bunch!” “They’ll be heard from soon,” were samples of the comments.

The “jazz” was in evidence all over the field. Tommy Tennant, erstwhile idol of the Seal fans, set the pace for the noise-makers and his colleagues chimed in with a chorus of cheer-up stuff that did not terminate until the last man was out in the final frame.

Within a few months, we start to see newspaper articles about current slang include jazz as a term coming out of San Francisco, indicating that the word had achieved a wider currency, at least regionally in the Bay Area. There is this article in the Idaho Statesman of 5 June 1913 that bears a dateline reporting from Indiana:

San Francisco—“Are you jerry to the old jazz?”

[…]

Now out in San Francisco, the most popular word is “the old jazz.” It means anything you may happen to want it to.

And there is this article which appears in the 22 June 1913 issue of the Duluth News Tribune. The article appears to be a reworking of the same piece that had appeared in the Idaho paper a few weeks before. The article is distinctly different from the 5 June piece, but much of the phrasing is the same:

Take Frisco, the great slang factory of this broad land. Out there they ask you, “Are you jerry to the old jazz?” meaning thereby, “Are you hep to the—” whatever you are supposed to be hep to. “Jazz” stands for whatever you want it to.

We had started to see the transition from baseball to music in the 1913 coverage of the Seals, but none of that reporting used jazz definitively as the label for the genre of music, then primarily known as ragtime or swing.

We have indirect evidence that jazz was being used to refer to the music as early as 1914 and that there was at least one band that incorporated it into its name by that year, Bert Kelly’s Jazz Band that played at the College Inn in Chicago. But we have no surviving uses in print of the word referring definitively to the music until 1915.

From 15 May to 28 August 1915 a group billed as Tom Brown’s Band from Dixie Land played at Lamb’s Café in Chicago, a popular dance spot. And on 22 May 1915, the following advertisement appeared in the Chicago Examiner:

Lambs’ Café

The Original
JAD ORCHESTRA
For Dancing

Randolph and Clark Sts.

JAD here is almost certainly a misprint for jazz, the word not yet being familiar to the paper’s typesetters. Later appearances of the ad do not use the word. But we do get a clear use of jazz to refer to music in the Chicago Daily Tribune of 11 July 1915:

The Worm [i.e., woman’s husband] had turned—turned to fox trotting. And the “blues” had done it. The “jazz” had put pep into the legs that had scrambled too long for the 5:15.

What mattered to him now the sly smiles of contempt that his friends uncorked when he essayed the foxy trot a month before; what mattered it whose shins he kicked?

That was what “blue” music had done for him.

[…]

“What are the blues?” he asked gently.

“Jazz!” The young woman’s voice rose high to drown the piano.

A tall young man with nimble fingers rose from the piano and came over. “That’s me,” he said. And then he unraveled the mystery of the “blues.”

“A blue note is a sour note,” he explained. “It’s a discord—a harmonic discord. The blues are never written into the music, but are interpolated by the piano player or other players. They aren’t new. They are just reborn into popularity. They started in the south half a century ago and are the interpolations of darkies originally. The trade name for them is “jazz.”

“There’s a craze for them now. People find them excellent for dancing. Piano players are taking lessons to learn how to play them.”

Thereupon “Jazz” Marion sat down and showed the bluest streak of blues ever heard beneath the blue. Or, if you like this better: “Blue” Marion sat down and jazzed the jazziest streak of jazz ever.

Saxophone players since the advent of the “jazz blues” have taken to wearing “jazz collars,” neat decollete things that give the throat and windpipe full play, so that the notes that issue from the tubas may not suffer for want of blues—those wonderful blues.

Try it some time—for that tired feeling—the blues.

Clearly, it was in Chicago in 1915 that the term jazz became indelibly associated with the musical genre. Years later, musician Bert Kelly would claim to have been the first to use jazz to refer to the musical genre. Kelly had played in Hickman’s band in 1913, subsequently moving east to Chicago to start his own group. Kelly writes in a letter published in Variety on 2 October 1957:

As I conceived the idea of using the Far West slangword, “jazz,” as a name for an original dance band and my original dance band and my original style of playing a dance rhythm, at the College Inn, Chicago, in 1914, it is my wish to unravel the skein of ridiculous falsehoods concocted by overanxious writers, publishers and music critics who start with the erroneous premise that the jazz-band and jazz style of dance music were originated in New Orleans and the etymology of the word jazz could be found in New Orleans or Africa instead of in the ’49ers mining-camp dancehalls of the Far West.

[…]

When I originated the jazz band in 1914, there were just three dance bands of any note to the music and theatrical world in America, namely: Bert Kelly’s Jazz Band at The College Inn, Chicago; Earl Fuller’s Orchestra at Rector’s in New York; and Art Hickman’s Orchestra at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco.

Backing up the San Francisco to Chicago trail is this description of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band on a cover sheet for a 1917 Victor Records catalog:

New Victor Records
Jass Band and other Dance Selections

The Original Dixieland Jass Band

SPELL it Jass, Jas, Jaz or Jazz—nothing can spoil a Jass band. Some say the Jass band originated in Chicago. Chicago says it comes from San Francisco—San Francisco being away off across the continent. Anyway, a Jass band is the newest thing in the cabarets, adding greatly to the hilarity thereof.

Kelly was undoubtedly among the first to use jazz as a label for the musical genre, but it is unlikely he was the only one. There is indirect evidence that the term had already migrated to New Orleans with other musicians by 1914. Also note, that when Kelly writes that his was one of only “bands of any note” he is referring to white musicians. There were many Black musicians playing jazz music in New Orleans and elsewhere.

The indirect evidence for the wider spread of the term comes in a pair of 1916 articles in Variety. The first, in the 27 October 1916 issue, makes the claim that jazz originated in Chicago:

Chicago, the home of “Walkin’ the Dog,” “Ballin’ the Jack” and sundry other cabaret features, has added another innovation to its list of discoveries in the so-called “Jazz Bands.” The Jazz Band is composed of three or more instruments and seldom plays regulated music. The College Inn and practically all other high class places of entertainment have a Jazz Band featured, while the low cost makes it possible for all the smaller places to carry their Jazz orchestra. A number of the organizations are reported to be considering the possibilities of invading New York and it would not be surprising to note the disappearance of the classical orchestras for the syncopated groups.

The following week, on 3 November 1916, Variety’s New Orleans correspondent posted a reply indicating that musical style had been played there for decades and the term jazz itself had been known in New Orleans for several years:

Chicago’s claim to originating “Jazz Bands” and “Balling the Jack” are as groundless, according to VARIETY’s New Orlean’s [sic] correspondent, as ’Frisco’s assuming to be the locale for the first “Todolo” and “Turkey Trot” dances. Little negro tots were “Ballin’ the Jack” in New Orleans over ten years ago, and negro roustabouts were “Turkey Trotting" and doing the “Todolo” in New Orleans as far back as 1890, he says. “Jazz Bands” have been popular there for over two years, and Chicago cabaret owners brought entertainers from that city to introduce the idea. New Orleans’ “Brown Skin” dance is also to be instituted in the Windy City shortly, is the claim.

And the same issue of Variety contains this note, also from the New Orleans correspondent:

Herb Trustee, long the foremost exponent of the “Jazz” in the local cabarets, left here [i.e., New Orleans] Sunday to join the Amy Butler act at Cleveland.

Further evidence can be found in the reminiscences of musician Nick La Rocca, who, in the journal Song Lyrics for November 1937, recalled being introduced to the term jass at the Schiller Club in Chicago in 1914:

“It was at this place,” said La Rocca as he observed the magnificence of his NBC surroundings, “that I heard the word ‘jass’ (later spelled ‘jazz’) for the first time. It happened this way: A dance-crazed couple shouted at the end of the dance, ‘Jass it up boy, give us some more jass.’ Promoter Harry James immediately grasped this word as the perfect monicker [sic] for popularizing the new craze.”

If La Rocca’s memory is correct, James was the first man to use the word “jass” in connection with an orchestra. He called his headliner the “Original Dixieland Jass Band.”

“There is no doubt in my mind,” said La Rocca, “that the word ‘jazz’ is Northern in origin, for I had never heard the word before that specific night at the Schiller Café in Chicago.”

There you have it. Jazz originated as a slang term for energy and enthusiasm among California baseball players in 1912–13, and through a band hired to entertain the San Francisco Seals baseball team during 1913 spring training, it became associated with and a name for what had up to that point been labeled ragtime or swing music.

There are a number of origin stories for jazz that are often repeated. These have little or no evidentiary support. As we have seen, while the musical style flowed out of New Orleans, the name jazz did not. Some have tried to make connections to various, sometimes fictitious, West African words. While this makes sense as a hypothesis if jazz were to have started among Black musicians in New Orleans, the origin in white California baseball makes an African origin unlikely. Another claim conflates the sexual sense of jasm/jism with jazz. While a sexual connotation cannot be ruled out, the timeline of the development of the senses militates against it. Similarly, the explanations that the term comes from a New Orleans prostitute named Jezebel or from jasmine perfume worn by prostitutes in that city are pure invention. Jazz is also sometimes associated with a supposed Black musician named Jasbo Brown, but he is fictitious, and the tale was invented as a post hoc explanation. Finally, claims that jazz comes from the Middle French jaser, meaning to chatter or gossip, or the Irish teas, meaning heat, are absurd on their face.

Discuss this post


Sources:

The research behind this article is not mine. I’m just summarizing the work of others. Credit for the spadework in digging up the early citations and tracing the early development of the term jazz goes to, among others, Gerald Cohen, George Thompson, Ben Zimmer, and Barry Popik. And special thanks go to Gerald Cohen for providing me with facsimiles of the San Francisco Bulletin articles from 1913.

Advertisement. Chicago Examiner, 22 May 1915, 17. Chicago Public Library Digital Collections.

“Ben’s Jazz Curve.” Los Angeles Times, 2 April 1912, 3.2. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Bird, Owen, R. “Around the Bags.” Los Angeles Times, 3 April 1912, 3.3. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Brunn, H.O. The Story of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State UP, 1960, 28–29, 92–Plate viii.

“Cabarets.” Variety, 44.9, 27 October 1916, 12. ProQuest Variety (Archive: 1905–2000).

———. Variety, 44.10, 3 November 1916, 20. ProQuest Variety (Archive: 1905–2000).

Cohen, Gerald. “1937 Recollections of Band Leader Nick La Rocca.” Comments on Etymology, 35.1–2, October–November 2005, 70.

———. “Searching for Evidence in the 1913 San Francisco Bulletin.” Comments on Etymology, 35.1–2, October–November 2005, 21–26.

“George McCarl.” Baseball Reference, 2022.

Gleeson, “Scoop.” “M’Carl Performs Like Youngster Who Will Do.” San Francisco Bulletin, 3 March 1913, 13.

——— . “M’Carl Pulls Off Stunts at First Just Like Chase.” San Francisco Bulletin, 8 March 1913, 12.

——— . “Oaks Not Playing With Dash of Cal Ewing’s Del-Peppers.” San Francisco Bulletin, 14 March 1913, 20.

———. “Seals Return from the Spa to Tackle the Famous White Sox.” San Francisco Bulletin, 6 March 1913, 16.

———. “When Will a Del Pepper Become a Dill Pickle?” San Francisco Bulletin, 24 March 1913, 16.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang, 2022, s.v. jazz, n., jazz, v.

Holland, J.G. Miss Gilbert’s Career. NewYork: Charles Scribner, 1860, 350. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

“’I Grab You, Gus!’ Grab This and Master it Thoroughly; It Is the Latest in Slang.” Duluth News Tribune (Minnesota), 22 June 1913, 10. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Kelly, Bert. “Bert Kelly Stakes Claim to Heading 1st Jazz Band in Chicago Back in ’14.” Variety, 2 October 1957, 64. ProQuest Variety (Archive: 1905–2000).

Mannix, Francis J. “Sox Recipients of Royal Welcome at Seals’ Home.” San Francisco Bulletin, 25 March 1913, 16.

“Nine Cheers for Ripton!” The Spirit of the Times (New York), 29 October 1842, 1. Gale Primary Sources: American Historical Periodicals from the American Antiquarian Society.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, December 2008, s.v. jazz, n. and adj., jazz, v., jazzer, n., jasm, n.; second edition, 1989, s.v. jism, n.

Samuels, O.M. “New Orleans.” Variety, 44.10, 3 November 1916, 46. ProQuest Variety (Archive: 1905–2000).

Seagrove, Gordon. “Blues Is Jazz and Jazz Is Blues.” Chicago Daily Tribune, 11 July 1915, 8.8. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

“Senators Show Lots of ‘Jazz’ but They Lose to Seals 4–3; Good Game.” Sacramento Bee, 30 April 1913. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

“Will ‘Hod Dickety Dog’ Win Lovers of Slang? Idaho Statesman, 5 June 1913, 10. Readex: America's Historical Newspapers.

Image credits:

Louis Armstrong. Unknown Photographer, 1953. Library of Congress. Public domain image.

Art Hickman’s Orchestra. Bain News Service, c.1919. Library of Congress. Public domain image.

see you next Tuesday

Graphic, clip-art depiction of a calendar and a clock. I mean, what were you expecting? This isn’t a pornography site.

Graphic, clip-art depiction of a calendar and a clock. I mean, what were you expecting? This isn’t a pornography site.

14 September 2022

(Updated 15 September: added the quotation from Ulysses)

The phrase see you next Tuesday is a euphemistic acrostic for the word cunt, specifically for the use of that word as an abusive epithet, a sort of reverse acronym. This use of the phrase dates to at least 1989, although it’s undoubtedly older in oral use. (Obviously, literal uses of the series of words referring to a meeting the following week date back even further.)

I first became aware of the phrase from the television series Dead Like Me, in which the episode that first aired on 25 July 2003 contained this exchange among a group of office workers:

MICHAEL: Are you going on the Excel retreat?

GEORGE (GEORGIA): I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Am I going?

DELORES: No. We’ve had a bad experience with one of the tutorial staff. What was her name? Diane something?

GAIL: Farber? Farmer? Wilson!

DELORES: I’ve blocked it out.

GAIL: She was a big see-you-next-Tuesday; that’s what she was.

DELORES: Gail!

But I was late to the game by several decades, and this is far from the earliest known use of the phrase.

In his 1922 Ulysses, James Joyce employs a similar acrostic. In the Circe episode, the Girls of the Prison Gate Mission sing:

If you see Kay
Tell him he may
See you in tea
Tell him from me.

While not exactly the same wording, it is another acrostic for cunt (as well as one for fuck). The Dublin Prison Gate Mission was sort of a halfway house for women being released from prison.

An enigmatic early use of see you next Tuesday is as the title of an instrumental track on the 1972 album Turkey by the group Wild Turkey. But since the track has no lyrics, the meaning of the title is mysterious. It could be a reference to the slang phrase or to something else.

The earliest clear use of the phrase that I’m aware of is an article on profanity in the 2 November 1989 edition of the Guardian newspaper:

“He’s a real See-You-Next-Tuesday.”

“Pardon?”

“A See-You-Next-Tuesday. You know, a c-u-n-t…”

Obviously I didn’t know, though apparently it’s a fairly common phrase. Imagine a word so powerful that it has to be disguised, even when used as a term of abuse.

When I proposed this article to the Guardian’s women’s page, the answer came back: “Great, but in deference to our readers, try to use the word only once.”

Discuss this post


Sources:

Campbell, Katie. “The Last Word.” The Guardian (London), 2 November 1989, 17. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Fuller, Bryan and J.J. Philbin, writers. “Reaping Havoc.” Dead Like Me (television show).  James Marshall, director. Aired 25 July 2003. MGM Television.

Joyce, James. Ulysses (1922). New York: Vintage Books, 1986, 15.1893–96. 405.

Mullins, William D. “see-you-next-Tuesday, n. (UNCLASSIFIED).” ADS-L. 12 March 2019. (The reference to a 1983 play in this email post would seem to be a typo. The play See You Next Tuesday, by Ronald Harwood opened on the London stage in 2003, not 1983. The play is an adaptation of Frances Veber’s 1998 film Le Dîner de Cons. While the play is literally about a group that gathers for dinner every Tuesday, the title of the English version is obviously a reference to the slang epithet. But since it comes well after the phrase was well established, it’s not the origin.)

“Wild Turkey—Turkey” (1972). Discogs.com.

Image credit: Videoplasty.com, 2018. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.