yas / yassify

Side-by-side images of an 18th-century, white-haired man in a hat and the same figure depicted as a beautiful, blond woman

Yassified version of the Quaker Oats logo

10 July 2024

To yassify something is to apply beauty filters to a digital image in an over-the-top manner in order to create a humorous result, and often, in a callback to the term’s roots in 1980s Black and LatinX queer culture, to transform the image of man into that of a woman. It, and its forerunner the exclamation yas, are good examples of how a term can exist in a subculture for decades before exploding into general popularity and then fading from general use once the fad becomes passé.

Yassify appeared and went viral in 2021 with the 13 November launch of the Twitter account @YassifyBot (not really a bot, but an actual person) that featured such transformed images. The viral sensation quickly caught the attention of the press. The following appeared in the student newspaper the Cornell Daily Sun on 22 November 2021:

We probably have all glowed ourselves up with some retouches on a photo editing app at some point. But have you also tried giving yourself a poreless face, a pair of smokey eyes, plumped-up lips, balayaged hair and well-defined cheekbones? In other words, have you “yassified” yourself? Or we should ask ourselves, why are we comfortable doing the former but not the latter?

The past two weeks have given birth to a sea of “yassify” (or “yassification”) memes. These memes first emerged from queer Twitter, where people began sharing heavily edited photos of public figures with the glamazon look.

The trend soon became an internet culture phenomenon when an edited scene from the A24 horror film Hereditary took off. In the clip, Toni Collette turned from screaming in terror to serving her look. After this meme went viral, no one was safe from “yassification.” From celebrities like Timothée Chalamet, politicians like Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, to historical figures like Mother Teresa, everyone was turned into exemplars of our beauty ideals.

It might already sound familiar to some of you, but yassification is a derivation of the term “yaaass queen.” Originated from 1980s ballroom culture in New York City, the queer slang-turned internet culture phenomenon went mainstream in 2013 thanks to RuPaul’s Drag Race and a video of a Lady Gaga fan. “Yas queen” has now become part of the everyday lexicon in youth culture that people say in response to someone fabulous.

And the word was featured in the online New York Times on 24 November 2021 and in the Sunday print edition four days later:

“Girl With a Pearl Earring” in a full face of makeup. The first Queen Elizabeth contoured from her neck ruff up. Severus Snape with jet-black hair extensions. Sasquatch sporting a smoky eye.

These are just a few of the altered images that have been shared by YassifyBot, a Twitter account that started popping up in people’s feeds this month.

To “yassify” something, in the account’s parlance, is to apply several beauty filters to a picture using FaceApp, an A.I. photo-editing application, until its subject—be that a celebrity, a historical figure, a fictional character or a work of fine art—becomes almost unrecognizably made up.

Since YassifyBot’s account was activated on Nov. 13, it has tweeted hundreds of photographs in which subjects’ lashes appear thick and spidery; their eyebrows look as though they’ve seen the business end of a pencil; their hair has been lengthened and, often, colored; and their cheekbones and nose are sharply contoured.

Yassify was voted Informal Word of the Year for 2021 by the American Dialect Society.

As stated in these sources, yassify has its roots in the use of yas, a variation on yes, by Black and Latino drag ballroom culture in the 1980s as an exclamation of recognition, encouragement, and support. Many examples of yas being used can be seen in the 1990 documentary on ball culture, Paris Is Burning. The word came to the attention of the general English-language discourse community in 2013 when a video of a Lady Gaga fan using the term went viral and again in 2015 when it was used on the TV show Broad City. Yas was added to the online Oxford Dictionaries in 2017.

An example of yas being used by a queer student is quoted in a 2015 University of Alabama master’s thesis:

To be honest with you, sometimes I am self-conscious about my voice. I know I have to get over that, because it’s just what I sound like…  I’m working on that. I mean, it isn’t like I’m some stereotypical sassy queen who walks around saying, “Yas queen! Ya! Slay!” We all know that one gay who is always snapping and showing out. I don’t put on a show like that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like a bitchy kiki at the Pride Parade as much as the next queen… I just wish I didn’t sound as squeaky while I dish!

After 2021, however, the word faded from use once the novelty wore off. It can still be heard, just not at the rate of its peak in popularity.

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Sources:

Amatulli, Jenna. “Here’s the Real Origin of the Word ‘Yas.’” Huffpost.com, 19 July 2017 (updated 4 September 2017).

Forst, Michael. Understanding Marginalized Queer Voices: An Ethnography of LGBTQ Spaces. University of Alabama (Master’s Thesis), 2015, 58. ProQuest Dissertations.

Levine, Jon. “Yaaass, You Have Black Drag Queens to Thank for the Internet’s Favorite Expression.” Mic.com, 7 October 2015.

O’Neill, Shane. “What Does It Mean to ‘Yassify’ Anything?” New York Times (online), 24 November 2021. ProQuest Blog, Podcast, or Website. Print version: 28 November 2021, Sunday Styles 2.

Oxford Dictionaries, 2017, s.v. yas, excl.

Yang, Stephen. “Yassification: Contestation of the Extremes and the Binaries.” Cornell Daily Sun (Ithaca, New York), 22 November 2021. ProQuest Wire Feed.

“Yas Gaga.” YouTube.com, 21 August 2013.

Zimmer, Benjamin, Kelly E. Wright, Brianne Hughes, and Charles E. Carson. “Among the New Words.” American Speech, 97.3, August 2022, DOI: 10.1215/00031283-10096035.

Image credit: @YassifyBot, X.com, 22 November 2021. Fair use of a copyrighted image to illustrate the topic under discussion.

gerrymander

Stylized engraving of an electoral district in the shape of winged salamander and bearing the label, “Gerry-mander”

Reprint of the original gerrymander cartoon in the Newburyport Herald, 31 March 1812

8 July 2024

Political jargon terms often have a short life. Terms such as to bork or hanging chad which once briefly dominated the news cycle are now historical footnotes. Gerrymander, however, is one of the most successful political jargon terms of all time, but its survival is somewhat unfair to its namesake, Elbridge Gerry (1744–1814), a signer of The Declaration of Independence, governor of Massachusetts, and vice president of the United States. To gerrymander is to draw a state’s voting districts in such a way as to give political advantage to one’s own political party, but Gerry was only reluctantly associated with the practice.

The U.S. Constitution requires a census be taken every ten years and that state legislatures redraw the districts from which U.S. representatives are elected to reflect changes in population. The legislatures of the several states define their districts in a similar manner. Of course, this creates lots of opportunities for political mischief or even outright corruption as each political party seeks to redraw the district boundaries to favor their own electoral chances.

The idea that one could fashion district boundaries to favor one side or the other is almost as old as the republic itself, and one of the early egregious examples of this practice occurred in 1812 in Essex County, Massachusetts. The Massachusetts legislature, dominated by Democratic-Republicans (the forerunner of the modern Democratic Party) drew one district so that it snaked around the outskirts of the county, favoring their party over the competition, the Federalists. Gerry, who was a Democratic-Republican and governor at the time, actually objected to the plan, but he signed it into law out of party loyalty, and by doing so, he became the public face of the convoluted district. 

Political map of Essex County, Massachusetts showing the town borders and a red line dividing one voting district from another

Map of the redistricting of Essex County, Massachusetts, Boston Gazette, 9 March 1812

The Boston Gazette, a Federalist paper edited by John Russell, first reported on the redistricting plan in an extra edition on 9 March 1812, but it did not at first use the term gerrymander, instead referring to it as a “Crooked S,” “concave,” and “egg-shell district.” The extra edition published redistricting maps of Worcester and Essex Counties and said of them:

The above representation has been procured to show, so far as can be shown by the instances of two Counties only, in what mode the present ruling party have dissected the Commonwealth; “carved it as a dish fit for the Gods” but “hewn it as a carcase [sic] fit for hounds.”

[…]

The County of Essex has been divided into Districts, described by the dotted lines, to which the ingenious carvers have been unwilling to assign names. The District, of which the extremes are Salisbury, on the North side of the Merrimack River, and Chelsea (which last was cut off from Suffolk to prevent that District from sending six Senators) may be properly called by the name which children give to a letter in the alphabet, “Crooked S;” or one District may be denominated concave, and the other convex, as one of the fits into the other, very much as the half of a small egg may be put into half the shell of a larger egg.

[…]

By the new division it is expected, by the democratic legislators, the Worcester South District will send two senators of their party to the next legislature, and that three of the same description will be returned from the semicircular, crooked S, concave, or egg-shell district in Essex. If such should be the result, these counties, containing an immense federal majority of more than two thousand eight hundred electors, would exhibit the strange spectacle of being represented by four federalists and five democrats in the first branch of the legislature. But we confide in the spirit, the intelligence, and the virtue of the good people of these districts of [sic] defeat this attempt to control the constitutional right of suffrage.

Allegedly, upon seeing the map one of the editors the Boston Gazette compared the district to a salamander. In reply, another editor reportedly said, “Salamander! Call it a Gerrymander.” There is considerable doubt as to these details, however, and exactly who coined gerrymander is not known. The likeliest candidate is the Gazette’s editor, John Russell. Other candidates include Russell’s brother Benjamin, who edited the Federalist Columbian Centinel and who used the word the following month, and Nathan Hale, editor of the Boston Weekly Messenger, another Federalist newspaper, and nephew of the Revolutionary War patriot who had regretted he had “but one life to lose for his country.”

What we do know for certain is that the word gerrymander first appears in the pages of the Boston Gazette on 26 March 1812, accompanied by a political cartoon that depicted the snake-like district as a winged serpent. The drawing was probably a creation of engraver Elkanah Tisdale, and not painter Gilbert Stuart who is often given credit. The cartoon bore the headline of:

The Gerry-mander.
A new species of Monster, which appeared in the Essex South District in January last.

And the accompanying text read, in part:

From these premises the sagacious Doctor most solemnly avers there can be no doubt that this monster is a genuine Salamander, though by no means perfect in all its members; a circumstance however which goes far to prove its legitimacy. But as this creature has been engendered and brought forth under the sublimest auspices, he proposes that a name should be given to it, expressive of its genus, and at the same time conveying an elegant and very appropriate compliment to his Excellency the Governor, who is known to be the zealous patron and promoter of whatever is new, astonishing and erratic, especially of domestic growth and manufacture. For these reasons and for other valuable considerations, the Doctor has decreed that this monster shall be denominated a Gerry-mander, a name that must exceedingly gratify the parental bosom of our worthy Chief Magistrate, and prove so highly flattering to his ambition, that the Doctor may confidently expect in return for his ingenuity and fidelity, some benefits a little more substantial than the common reward of virtue.

The said “Doctor Watergruel” is a satirical invention of the Gazette’s editors.

The cartoon and the word gerrymander were reprinted in papers across Massachusetts and the United States. Thus a political term was born, the term became a Federalist rallying cry in the 1812 election, and Gerry lost his gubernatorial re-election bid because, at least in part, of it.

Gerry pronounced his name with a hard g (IPA: /g/) but over time the pronunciation of gerrymander shifted to a soft g (IPA: /dʒ/), probably because as Elbridge faded from memory (he would go on to the political oblivion that is the vice presidency of the United States*) people gave it the pronunciation of the first name Gerry or Jerry and perhaps with the influence of jerry-built, a term meaning of shoddy construction.

(* There is the old story of two brothers, one who went to sea and the other who became vice president. Neither were ever heard from again.)

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Sources:

Davis, Jennifer. “Elbridge Gerry and the Monstrous Gerrymander.” In Custodia Legis: Law Librarians of Congress (blog), 10 February 2017.

“Essex County; Worcester County.” Boston Gazette, Extra 9 March 1812. Library of Congress.

“The Gerry-Mander: or, Essex South District Formed into a Monster!!” Newburyport Herald and Country Gazette, 31 March 1812, 5. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. gerrymander, n., gerrymander, v.

Tréguer, Pascal. “Why ‘Gerrymander’ Was Originally the Name of a Monstrous Salamader.” 3 November 2018, Wordhistories.net.

Image credits: Elkanah Tisdale, “The Gerry-Mander: or, Essex South District Formed into a Monster!!” Newburyport Herald and Country Gazette, 31 March 1812, public domain image; “Essex County; Worcester County.” Boston Gazette, Extra 9 March 1812, Library of Congress, Public domain image.

promethium

Photo of a statue depicting Prometheus chained to a rock and having his liver eaten by an eagle

Prometheus, Nicolas-Sébastien Adam, 1762

5 July 2024

Promethium, a chemical element in the lanthanide series with atomic number 61 and the symbol Pm, may very well be the element with the dubious honor of having the most names attached to it. It is radioactive and extremely rare in nature. Only one isotope of promethium has uses beyond pure research. Because it has a relatively long half-life (2.6 years) and does not emit strong gamma rays, making it relatively safe as radioactive materials go, promethium-147 is used in atomic batteries and as a phosphor in luminous paint.

In 1902, chemist Bohuslav Brauner recognized that there should be an element between neodymium and samarium in the lanthanide series. Then it was off to the races with a variety of scientists claiming to have discovered element 61, giving it a name, and then having their hopes dashed when other scientists showed they were wrong.

A group of scientists from the University of Illinois claimed to have isolated the element in 1926, dubbing it illinium, after the university. An Italian team claimed to have isolated the element, dubbing it florentium (after the city of Florence) in 1924, but they did not publish their find until after the Illinois group had made their announcement. It didn’t matter, because both were shown to be wrong, the spectral lines they saw ending up belonging to other elements. In 1938, a team at the Ohio State University claimed to have produced the element in their cyclotron, dubbing it cyclonium, but their experiment could not be replicated.

Element 61 was finally and definitively produced at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory in 1945, under the auspices of the Manhattan Project. Because of wartime secrecy, the announcement was not made until July 1947, however. This initial announcement did not offer a name for element 61. The team did not publicly proffer a name until the September 1947 meeting of the American Chemical Society.

The earliest use of the name promethium that I have found is in the Chicago Tribune with a dateline of 15 September 1947. The article is about B. S. Hopkins, a member of the University of Illinois team who was still maintaining his primacy in the element’s discovery:

He said no one thought of contesting his claim until atomic energy was developed during the war and enabled man to create illinium and other elements artificially thru the use of cyclotrons (atom smashing machines) and atomic furnaces.

Dr. Hopkins said two atomic physicists in 1942 claimed they had isolated illinium by the cyclotron method and suggested that the element be renamed cyclonium.

Now three investigators from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology say they have created the same material in an atomic furnace and want to rename it promethium, Dr. Hopkins said.

(Marinsky and Glendenin had moved on from Oak Ridge to M.I.T. following the war.)

The issue of Newsweek dated 29 September 1947 lists a few other names for element 61 that had been proposed:

Since the artificial 61 was produced in the course of atomic-energy research, names tentatively discussed by the Oak Ridge group reflected the Manhattan project: promethium (Pm) for the legend of man getting fire from the gods; thanium (Tn) for death; and grovesium (Grr) for General Groves. A group at Ohio State University suggested cyclonium (Cy), for the cyclotron.

And in addition to the names for the real-world element, the name promethium was used even earlier in fiction. The fictional metal is a MacGuffin in her 1942 novel Murder in the O.P.M.:

He interrupted me. “Have you ever heard of promethium?”

“I’ve heard of Prometheus in Greek mythology.”

“That’s where the word comes from. Just as titanium comes from Titan. Promethium is a metal like titanium, iridium and beryllium. It’s used chiefly as an alloy to harden softer metals like copper and aluminum.”

And a few pages later there is this this rather misogynistic description of a woman:

“‘Diane’s twenty-two, almost twenty-three. She looks like a Fragonard, and she’s all violet and pale gold, except, unfortunately, a little promethium dropped into the ladle when the angels were pouring her out——’”

I stopped and looked at Colonel Primrose. Apparently I had heard of promethium.

He smiled. “In a two-per-cent promethium alloy, copper cuts the toughest steel in existence, Mrs. Latham,” he said blandly.

“She . . . does sound awful,” I said. I went back to Agnes’ letter.

“‘——so that “difficult” isn’t quite strong enough and her family don’t like to call her any of the more modern terms.’”

That’s a lot of names for one rather rare element.

Discuss this post


Sources:

“Chemistry’s Full Table.” Newsweek, 29 September 1947, 58–60 at 59. ProQuest Magazines.

Ford, Leslie (pseud. Zenith Jones Brown). Murder in the O.P.M. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1942, 6, 8. Archive.org.

Gibbons, Roy. “U. of I. Scientist Out to Prove He Found Element” (15 September 1947). Chicago Daily Tribune, 16 September 1947, 23/2. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

Marinsky, J. A., L. E. Glendenin, and C. D. Coryell. “The Chemical Identification of Radioisotopes of Neodymium and of Element 61” (16 July 1947). Journal of the American Chemical Society, 69.11, November 1947, 2781–85. DOI: 10.1021/ja01203a059. (Announcement of discovery, but no name for element 61 is proffered.)

Miśkowiec, Pawel. “Name Game: The Naming History of the Chemical Elements—Part 3—Rivalry of Scientists in the Twentieth Century.” Foundations of Chemistry, 12 November 2022. DOI: 10.1007/s10698-022-09452-9.

Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, June 2007, s.v. promethium, n.

Photo credit: Unknown photographer, 2006. Louvre Museum, Paris. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain photo.

grog

Five 19th-century British officers sit at a table drinking and smoking; another stands with his back to the table, vomiting

“Learning to Smoke and Drink Grog,” Thomas Rowlandson, 1815

3 July 2024

Grog is another name for booze. Originally, it applied specifically to a mix of rum and water, often with added sugar and lime juice, served to sailors in the Royal Navy, and over time it came to be applied to any spirit or beer. The etymology of the word has all the trappings of a false etymology, except that, as far as we know, it is true.

The drink is named after Admiral Edward Vernon (1684–1757) whose sailors had nicknamed Old Grog. He was a famed Royal Navy officer, most noted for the 1739 capture of Portobelo, Panama during the War of Jenkin’s Ear (which is hands-down the best-named war ever). Today, it is hard to grasp how famous he was. He was an A-list celebrity in his day: Portobello Road in London is named for his victory; Thomas Arne composed Rule, Brittania! during the subsequent celebrations; and George Washington’s estate in Virginia, Mount Vernon, is named for him as well—George’s elder brother Lawrence, who built Mount Vernon, had served aboard Vernon’s flagship as a marine officer in 1741.

Vernon got his nickname from his habit of wearing a grogram cloak while on deck during foul weather. Grogram is a coarse fabric made from any of a variety of fibers, such as silk, mohair, or wool, and often stiffened with gum. The name is an anglicization of the French gros grain (large or coarse grain).

In the eighteenth century, Royal Navy sailors were given a daily ration of rum of half an imperial pint (284 ml or 9.6 US ounces). Needless to say, if consumed in one go it would make a sailor seriously drunk. Concerned over the condition and functionality of his ships’ crews, in August 1740 Vernon ordered the captains of the ships in his squadron to dilute the rum ration with water, mixed with sugar and lime juice to make it drinkable (Ship’s water was often foul.), and to serve it in two portions, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. The sailors would still get their hefty allotment of booze—to deny them that would spark mutiny—but it would keep them from getting falling-down drunk.

Vernon’s order came in two parts, issued from his flagship, HMS Burford. The first reads:

Burford, at Port Royal,
August 4, 1740

Whereas the swinish vice of drunkenness is but too visibly increasing in our mariners in his Majesty’s Service, attended with the most fatal effects both to their morals and their health, from whence arises a brutal disregard to their duty as Christians, and their being thoughtlessly hurry’d into all sorts of crimes as well as being visibly debilitated and destroy’d in their constitutions, which it may be justly apprehended is owing to their drinking their allowance in spirituous liquor at once, and without any mixture to allay the heat of it, which of itself is sufficient to intoxicate and gradually destroy them.

And it is of the utmost consequence both for his Majesty’s Service and the preservation of their morals and lives that some remedy should be provided against so growing an evil and of such dangerous consequence both to their souls and bodies. And you are hereby required and directed to consult with your Surgeon and to make me a return in writing severally under your hand and his, how you think so growing an evil may most effectually be remedy’d, it being as I apprehend greatly for his Majesty’s Service as well as for the preservation of the men’s morals and health that some speedy remedy should be apply’d to cure so dangerous and growing an evil.

And you will take into your consideration whether their spirituous liquor being mixed in some due proportion of water daily when it is issued to them, or any part of it being abated for a proportion of sugar being mixed with it for making it more palatable, may not be in some sort of a remedy to it, and will give your opinions with that care and consideration as the spiritual and temporal welfare of your fellow subjects as well as his Majesty’s Service may require of you. Given,etc.

E.V.

The second, two and half weeks later, reads:

Burford, at Port Royal,
August 21, 1740

Whereas it manifestly appears by the returns made to my general order of the 4th of August, to be the unanimous opinion of both Captains and Surgeons, that the pernicious custom of the seamen drinking their allowance of rum in drams, and often at once, is attended with many fatal effects to their morals as well as their health, which are visibly impaired thereby, and many of their lives shortened by it, besides the ill consequences arising from stupefying their rational qualities, which makes them heedlessly slaves to every passion; and which have their unanimous opinion cannot be better remedied than by ordering their half pint of rum to be daily mixed with a quart of water, which they that are good husbandmen, may, from the saving of their salt provisions and bread, purchase sugar and limes to make more palatable to them.

You are therefore hereby required and directed, as you tender both the spiritual and temporal welfare of his Majesty’s subjects, and preserving sobriety and good discipline in his Majesty’s Service, to take particular care that rum be no more served in specie to any of the ship’s company under your command, but that the respective daily allowance of half a pint a man for all your officers and ship’s company, be every day mixed with the proportion of a quart of water to every half pint of rum, to be mixed in a scuttled butt kept for that purpose, and to be done upon deck, and in the presence of the Lieutenant of the Watch, who is to take particular care to see that the men are not defrauded in having their full allowance of rum, and when so mixed it is to be served to them in two servings in the day, the one between the hours of 10 and 12 in the morning, and the other between 4 and 6 in the afternoon.

And you are to take care to have other scuttled butts to air and sweeten their water for their drinking at other times, and to give strict charge to your Lieutenants in their respective Watches to be very careful to prevent any rum and all spirituous liquors being privately conveyed on board the ship by your own boats or any others, and both you and they must expect to answer for the ill-consequences that may result from any negligence in the due execution of these orders.

The practice of serving grog quickly spread to other ships in the navy, and we see the first mention of grog in print in February 1749, when the following account was printed in a number of British newspapers:

The next day we met a Spanish Sloop from Cadiz, going into the Havannah, who told us of the Peace: I cursed him for coming in our Way, for we should have gone and taken all the Galleons else, and been as rich as Princes; I am sure we deserved it, for we lived at short Allowance all the Cruize, and but two Quarts of Water a Day, to make it hold out in Hopes of meeting them (but short Allowance of Grog was worst of all).

In 1781, Royal Navy physician Thomas Trotter immortalized Vernon’s creation of grog in a poem that was published in 1790:

THE ORIGIN OF GROG.

Written on board the Berwick, a few days before Admiral Parker’s engagement with the Dutch fleet, on the 5th of August 1781.

By Doctor Trotter.

(Tune, “Vulcan contrive me such a Cup.”)

’Tis sung on proud Olympus’ hill
The Muses bear record,
Ere half the gods had drank their fill
The sacred nectar sour’d.

At Neptune’s toast the bumper stood,
Britannia crown’d the cup;
A thousand Nereids from the flood
Attend to serve it up.

“This nauseous juice,” the monarch cries,
“Thou darling child of fame,
Tho’ it each earthly clime denies,
Shall never bear they name.

“Ye azure tribes that rule the sea,
And rise at my command,
Bid Vernon mix a draught for me
To toast his native land.”

Swift o’er the waves the Nereids flew,
Where Vernon’s flag appear’d;
Around the shores they sung “True Blue†,”
And Britain’s hero cheer’d.

A mighty bowl on deck he drew,
And filled it the brink;
Such drank the Burford’s gallant crew‡,
And such the gods shall drink.

The sacred robe which Vernon wore§,
Was drenched within the same;
And hence his virtues guard our shore,
And Grog derives its name.

To Heaven they bore the pond’rous vase,
From Porto Bello’s spoil;
And all Olympia’s bumpers blaze
With “Health to Britain’s islel”

Gay with a cup Apollo sung,
The Muses join’d the strain;
Mars cried “Encore!” and Vulcan rung—
“Let’s drink her o’er again.”

“Some signal gift,” they all exclaim,
“And worthy of the skies,
Shall long protect this island’s name,
And see her Genius rise.

“Henceforth no foes her coasts shall brave,
Her arts and arms shall crown,
Her gallant tars shall rule the wave,
And Freedom be her own.”

With three times three, the deed was sign’d
And seal’d at Jove’s command,
The mandate sent on wings of wind,
To hail the happy land.

(Chorus.)
This cup divine, ye sons of worth,
Was fill’d for you alone,
And he that drinks is bound by oath,
To sink with Britain’s sun.

The notes read:

† A favourite Song.
‡ Flag-ship, at the taking of Porto Bello.
§ Admiral Vernon usually wore a grogram cloak in bad weather, from which the sailors call’d him Old Grog; hence the name, in honour of him, was transferred to the spirit and water, because he was the first officer who ordered it in this manner on board his Majesty's ships.

The Vernon story has all the hallmarks of an etymythology, but despite it sounding like a post-hoc rationalization, it has evidence to support its being true. First, it is well established that Vernon was indeed nicknamed Old Grog, and he did in fact issue the said order in 1740 while commanding the West Indies station. The first known use of grog in print is only a few years later in an account of events aboard a ship on that same station. And Trotter’s poem, while written some decades after the fact, is still close enough in time for first-hand accounts of the term’s origin to have existed.

There have been some claims of pre-1740 citations, which would disprove the idea of Vernon’s order being the origin of grog, but these prove to be inaccurate. One such claim is that it appears in a ballad titled “The Pensive Maid,” written 1672–85. A version of the ballad containing the word grog appears in an 1893 collection of such seventeenth-century songs. The ballad tells the tale of a sailor who goes off to sea, leaving his love to wait for his return. Years pass, and assuming he is dead, the woman marries someone else. When the sailor returns and goes into a pub to drink with a friend, he finds the landlady is his lost love:

In a public-house then they both sot down,
And talk’d about Admirals of great renown,
And drunk’d as much grog as come to half-a-crown,
            This here strange man and Jack Robinson.
Then Jack call’d out, the reckoning to pay;
The Landlady came in, in fine array,
“My eyes and limbs! Why here’s Polly Gray![“]
            [“]Who’d ha’ thought of meeting here?” says Jack Robinson.

But the seventeenth-century dating is a misreading of the collection in which it appears. The ballad does indeed originally date to that period, but the editor of the collection explains, albeit rather elliptically and unclearly, that the verse containing the word grog is a later rewriting of the ending of the original ballad to give it a somewhat happier ending. The original ends with the sailor going off to his death, and in the later version, instead of dying, he returns to sea. Not exactly a happy ending, but still happier. The appearance of grog in close proximity to Admirals of great renown functions as an allusion to the word’s origin in Vernon’s nickname, indicating that this revision postdates 1740.

It's also sometimes claimed that grog makes an appearance in Daniel Defoe’s 1718 The Family Instructor, but this is another later revision of a text. The line, spoken by a Black enslaved man named Toby, supposedly reads:

make the sugar, make the grog, much great work, much weary work all day long.

But the 1718 original has no mention of grog:

Toby, says the Boy to him, you say you no know GOD; where were you born?

Toby. Me be born in Berbadoes.

Boy. Who lives there, Toby?

Toby. There lives white Mans, white Womans, Negro Mans, Negro Womans, just so as live here.

Boy. What, and not know GOD!

Toby. Yes, the white Mans say GOD Prayers; no much know GOD.

Boy. And what do the black Mans do?

Toby. They much Work, much Work; so say GOD Prayers, not at all.

Boy. What Work do they do, Toby?

Toby. Makee the Sugar, makee the Ginger; much great Work, weary Work, all Day, all Night.

So it appears that despite his many achievements, Vernon’s most lasting legacy is as a slang term for booze.

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Sources:

Defoe, Daniel. The Family Instructor, vol. 2 of 2. London: Emanuel Matthew, 1718, 304. Gale Primary Sources: Eighteenth Century Collections Online.

“The Following Is an Exact Account of the Late Action Fought Between Admiral Knowles, and the Spanish Admiral; Taken from the Jamaica Gazette.” Whitehall Evening Post (London), 31 January – 2 February 1749, 2/1. Gale News Vault. [I have been unable to locate the cited issue of the Jamaica Gazette.]

“The Following Is an Exact Account of the Late Action Fought Between Admiral Knowles, and the Spanish Admiral; Taken from the Jamaica Gazette.” Derby Mercury (England), 3–10 February 1749 [not 1748 as printed], 1/2. British Newspaper Archive. [The Derby Mercury evidently printed the wrong year on its masthead. The paper claims it is reprinting the piece from the 2 February issue of the Whitehall Evening Post, but that paper prints the story in the issue dated 31 January – 2 February 1749. A check of other dates given elsewhere in that issue of Mercury finds that the days of the week given correspond to dates in 1749, not 1748.]

Green’s Dictionary of Slang, n.d., s.v. grog, n.1.

Jackson, Neil. “The Rum Ration—By Order of Old Grog!” 31 July 2020. Navy Records Society.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. grog, n., grogram, n.

“The Pensive Maid.” In The Roxburghe Ballads, vol 7 of 9. J. Woodfall Ebsworth, ed. The Ballad Society. Hertford: Stephen Austin and Sons, 1893, 7.513. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Quinion, Michael. “Grog.” World Wide Words (blog), 22 March 2008.

Timbury, Cheryl. “The Origins of Grog and the Navy Rum Ration,” 2 December 2023. First Fleet Fellowship Victoria Inc. (This source uncritically repeats the inaccurate Defoe quotation.)

Trotter, Thomas. “The Origin of Grog.” The Aberdeen Magazine, 25 February 1790, 119–120. Gale Primary Sources: Eighteenth Century Collections Online.

Vernon, Edward. Orders to the Captains of 4 August and 21 August 1740. In B. McL. Ranft, ed. The Vernon Papers. Publications of the Navy Records Society 99. Greenwich, England: Navy Records Society, 1958.

W.H.S. “Origin of Grog.” Notes and Queries, 1.11, 24 November 1849, 168. Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Image credit: Thomas Rowlandson, 1815. Wikimedia Commons. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Public domain image.


Some nineteenth-century accounts of grog’s etymology:

Pulleyn, William. The Etymological Compendium, second edition. London: Thomas Tegg, 1830, 203. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

GROG.

Old Admiral Vernon first introduced rum and water as a beverage on board a ship; the veteran used to wear a grogram cloak in foul weather, which gained him the appellation of Old Grog: from himself the sailors transferred this name to the liquor, and it may be a question to which of the grogs they were most attached.

“Origin of Word ‘Grog.’” Notes and Queries, 1.4, 12 January 1850, 52. Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Mr. Vaux writes as follows:—Admiral Vernon was the first to require his men to drink their spirits mixed with water. In bad weather he was in the habit of walking the deck in a rough grogram cloak, and thence had obtained the nickname Old Grog in the Service. This is, I believe, the origin of the name grog, applied originally to rum and water. I find the same story repeated in a quaint little book, called Pulleyn’s Etymological Compendium.

Walcott, Mackenzie. “Origin of Word ‘Grog’—Ancient Alms-Basins.” Notes and Queries, 1.4, 24 November 1849, 52. Biodiversity Heritage Library.

Mr. Editor,—As a sailor’s son I beg to answer your correspondent Legour’s query concerning the origin of the word “grog,” so famous in the lips of our gallant tars. Jack loves to give a pet nickname to his favourite officers. The gallant Edward Vernon (a Westminster man by birth) was not exempted from the general rule. His gallantry and ardent devotion to his profession endeared him to the service, and some merry wags of the crew, in idle humour, dubbed him “Old Grogram.” Whilst in command of the West Indian station, and at the height of his popularity on account of his reduction of Porto Bello with six men-of-war only, he introduced the use of rum and water by the ship’s company. When served out, the new beverage proved most palatable, and speedily grew into such favour that it became as popular as the brave admiral himself, and in honour of him was surnamed by acclamation “Grog.”

stool pigeon

A pigeon decoy

A pigeon decoy

1 July 2024

In American underworld slang, a stool pigeon is a police informer. The stool is puzzling to most. It is a variant on an older word, stale, meaning a decoy or lure.

That word comes from the Old English stæl, meaning place (also the source of our present-day word stall). The Old English root was reinforced by the Anglo-Norman estal, also meaning both place and decoy, and ultimately coming from the same Germanic root as the Old English word. It’s unrelated to the other main use of stool, which is from the Old English stol, meaning seat or throne.

We see this Old English root in the compound stælhran, meaning a decoy reindeer. From the Old English translation of Orosius’s Historiarum adversum paganos (History Against the Pagans):

Þa deor hi hatað “hranas”; þara wæron syx stælhranas; ða beoð swyðe dyre mid Finnum, for ðæm hy foð þa wildan hranas mid.

(They call the beasts “reindeer”; there were six stool-reindeer; they are very dear to the Finns, for they capture the wild reindeer with them.)

And we see it used in relation to hunting birds in the c. 1440 English-Latin dictionary Promptorium Parvalorum. But here the word staal is used to refer to a hunting blind rather than a lure:

Staal of fowlynge or off byrdyes takynge: stacionaria

We see the lure sense about a century later, in Richard Huloet’s 1552 dictionary, Abcedarium Anglico-Latinum:

Stale that fowlers vse, incitabulum, mentita auis.

(Stool that fowlers use, [an incentive, a pretend bird].

It is applied more figuratively to people a bit earlier in John Skelton’s (d. 1529) poem The Tunnyng of Elynour Rummyng. The poem is about a less-than-honest alewife, and this particular passage is about how her ale lures the villagers:

Some for very nede
Layde downe a skeyne of threde,
And some brought from the barne
Both benes and pease;
Small chaffer doth ease
Sometyme, now and than:
Another there was that ran
With a good brasse pan;
Her colour was full wan;
She ran in all the hast
Vnbrased and vnlast;
Tawny, swart, and sallowe,
Lyke a cake of tallowe;
I swere by all hallow,
It was a stale to take
The deuyll in a brake.

(Some for great need
Laid down a skein of thread.
And some brought from the barn
Both beans and peas;
A little bargaining does the price ease
Sometime, now and then:
Another there was who ran
With a good brass pan;
Her color was very wan:
She ran in all haste,
Loose and unlaced;
Tawny, dark, and sallow,
Like a cake of tallow;
I swear by all that is hallowed,
It was a stool to take
The devil in a snare.)

But the compound stool pigeon would have to wait until turn-of-the-nineteenth-century America, where it was first applied to a dupe who would then be used to lure others into some kind of “trap.” Here is an early use in New York City’s American Citizen of 19 April 1800 in a political context:

The federalists laughed in their sleeves at this event—they held a CAUCUS and resolved (these are there [sic] own words) to make a decoy duck or stool pigeon of some pliable cartman for the purpose of getting the votes of his fellows in business.

And by the 1830s we see the sense of a police informer, one who entraps their fellows in crime. From the Vermont Watchman of 25 January 1831:

One hundred dollars are offered as reward for the apprehension of the above villain, and we hope the city authorities will at once take the matter in hand, and offer an additional sum of large amount, so that the officers of the police and their “stool pigeons” may be excited to go upon the track of the offenders.

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Sources:

Anglo-Norman Dictionary, 2007, s.v. estal, n.1, estal, n.3.

“Another Attempt at Abduction.” Vermont Watchman and State Gazette (Montpelier), 25 January 1831, 4/1. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Green’s Dictionary of Slang, n.d., s.v. stool-pigeon, n.1.

Huloet, Richard. Abcedarium Anglico-Latinum. London: William Riddel, 1552. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Mayhew, A. L., ed. Promptorium Parvalorum (c. 1440). Early English Text Society. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1908, col. 432, 704–05. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Middle English Dictionary, 2019, s.v. stal(e, n.4.

Oxford English Dictionary, second edition, 1989, s.v. stool-pigeon, n., stale, n.3.

Skelton, John. “The Tunnyng of Elynour Rummyng.” The Poetical Works of John Skelton, vol. 1 of 3. Boston: Little, Brown, 1862, 109–131 at 120–21. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

Sweet, Henry, ed.. King Alfred’s Orosius, part 1. Early English Text Society, o.s. 79. London: Oxford UP, 1883, 1.1, 18. HathiTrust Digital Archive.

“To the Cartmen of the City.” American Citizen and General Advertiser (New York City), 29 April 1800, 3/4. Readex: America’s Historical Newspapers.

Photo credit: Andy Reago and Chrissy McClarren, 2016. Wikimedia Commons. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.