What Does Shakespeare Say--Turkey

What Does Shakespeare Say? It has been a while since I have tackled that question on “Be-Worded.” With Thanksgiving fast approaching, and the winter holiday season hard upon it, I figured now would be a good time to write another WDSS installment about food, specifically turkey, since a lot of turkeys will be eating turkey over the next several weeks. Since my print concordance to Shakespeare’s plays is at Schroon Lake, I Googled “references to turkey in Shakespeare’s plays.” I found some references to the country of Turkey, to Turks, and to bird imagery in Shakespeare’s plays, but nothing about the fowl itself. Finally, I found the on-line Shakespeare concordance where I discovered that in his plays, Shakespeare references the “large North American bird . . . that has brownish plumage and a bare wattled head and neck and is widely domesticated for food”--as my American Heritage College Dictionary, 4^th ed. (AHCD) defines it--only four times.

• In Henry the Fourth, Part 1, a character mentions turkeys in his basket.
•  In Twelfth Night, Fabian whispers to Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek that “contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him,” an insult directed at the misplaced ego of the oblivious Malvolio.
•  In Henry the Fifth, Gower comments upon the approach of Pistol, “Why here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.” Fluellen responds, “’Tis no matter for his swellings or his turkey-cocks.—God bless you, Ancient Pistol! You scurvy, lousy knave, God bless you!”

Three of these four usages actually refer to a “turkey-cock,” or as the (AHCD) defines it, “1. a male turkey. 2. A strutting and conceited person.” While Shakespeare uses the turkey to insult characters, his plays have no references to characters actually sitting down to a turkey dinner. Thus, the immigrant turkey began its life in England as a symbol of pomposity, useful for ridicule.

While I ask the question “What Does Shakespeare Say About Turkeys,” That Shakespeare Girl, Cassidy Cash, asks in her blog, “Did Shakespeare Eat Turkey?” In answering this question, she reports that the turkey as we know it today had made its way to England from America in the mid-16^th Century and was served at court banquets as an exotic dish. As a player at court, Shakespeare certainly partook of this dish but chose not to put it in his plays.

LAGNIAPPE:

When I looked up “turkey-cock” in the Oxford English Dictionary, I discovered that in the early years after turkeys made their way to English dinner tables, they were frequently confused with Guinea-fowl: “In the 16^th c. synonymous with Guinea-cock or Guinea-fowl, an African bird known to the ancients . . . the American bird at first identified with or treated as a species of this.”

When I consulted the Chambers Slang Dictionary, I found an interesting usage involving turkeys. “To bleed one’s turkey” means to urinate. Imagine the stir one could create around the dinner table by excusing oneself to go bleed one’s turkey. One might be accused at that point of “having a turkey on one’s back”—that is, being drunk. However, if one chooses to remain silent, one might be accused of “not saying pea-turkey,” a different kind of “pea” than the slang term for urination.

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 Hand turkeys from classrooms past.

True Blue--and Loyal, Too!

            In September (2019), my daughter and I attended the Chicagoland Elvis Meets the Beatles Festival. On Friday night after the opening performances, a masquerade ball was scheduled to cap off the first night’s festivities. My daughter already had a suitable dress for the occasion, but I needed to go shopping.

            One day, I met her for lunch. After discussing the trip and our required attire, I decided to strike out for the local thrift and consignment shops, hoping to find an inexpensive but elegant dress for the occasion. Laura had mentioned a few nearby shops where she had had good luck in the past.

In the first shop, I found a dress I liked but sadly, it was a size too small. It was blue with a silver glittery vertical pattern with geometric shapes. I was quite blue at the sizing, as it would have been perfect for the ball. In thinking of how to describe this dress to my daughter, I considered the blue color. It was not midnight blue. It was not teal or aqua. It was the color I think of when I think generically of blue--true blue. This usage made me wonder about the origin of the phrase “true blue” since I was thinking of it in terms of describing a color, but “true blue” also means “loyal.”

Of course, I whipped out my Oxford English Dictionary (OED) to investigate. The entry for “true blue” referred me to “blue,” where I found two different meanings. Firstly, true blue is “often taken as the colour of constancy or unchangingness (? with regard to the blue of the sky, or to some specially fast dye). Hence true blue (fig.): faithful, staunch and unwavering.” Secondly, “true blue” refers to the Scottish Presbyterian or Whig party which in the 17^th century adopted the color blue to distinguish it from the royal red. These definitions melded the aspect of the color blue with the idea of fidelity.

I know that blue in centuries past was a popular color because it was easy to make from the indigo plant. At colonial reenacts at Charles Towne Landing, we have seen women making the blue dye from indigo and dyeing cloth with it, so I decided to dig deeper. A Google search led me to the web site, “The Phrase Finder.” There, I found a connection between blue cloth made at Coventry by the Covenanters, or the Scottish Presbyterians, and the aspect of devotion to their beliefs. Blue was chosen not only in contrast to the royal red, but also because of the colorfastness of the blue dye—true blue.

Ultimately, I found a suitable pumpkin orange dress with silver sparkles for the masquerade ball, and we both ordered masks to match our outfits. In the long run, it did not matter that the true blue dress was too small. Our flight to Chicago was significantly delayed by weather. When the ball was in full swing, we were in Milwaukee where our plane had been diverted until the weather passed and Midway opened again. We made it to the festival venue about 2 a.m., blue that we missed the fun, but grateful finally to reach Elvis!

 The (dis)Mayed Masked Mom Marooned in Milwaukee.

The Wash-a-meteria: Coming Clean and Eating, Too!

This summer, after a bevy of guests had departed, I mentioned to a neighbor that I intended to take the soiled linens to the washeteria in town to wash them instead of trying to do all of that laundry in my small washing machine. Quizzically, she said, “Washeteria? Do you mean laundromat?” I was surprised to find she had never heard of the word “washeteria.” After a brief discussion, I figured it might be a regional difference in vocabulary, as I grew up in Louisiana and she in New York. (Note: when my daughter was young, she referred to the self-service laundry place as the “wash-a-meteria.” See “At the Wash-a-meteria: A True Story” on Be-Lied.)

So, I did what I do when researching words and pulled out my Oxford English Dictionary (OED). Much to my surprise, the OED defines “Laundromat” as “The proprietary name of a brand of automatic washing machines,” not as a generic place where one goes to pay to wash one’s clothes. The first usage which the OED cites is from 1943 identifying “Laundromat” as “Domestic electric washing (laundering) machines; also, by extension, a launderette.” (“Launderette” is the British usage.)

The OED also defines “washeteria” first as a “launderette,” “An establishment providing automatic washing machines for the use of customers.” The second definition reads, a “car washeteria: a self-service car-washing establishment.” Thank goodness for brevity in vocabulary!

Then, I did what most people do these days when researching and Googled “laundromat,” hoping for a history of the Service Mark. I got links for the 2019 movie, The Laundromat. I got listings of laundromats near me. I found a link to the Persimmon Café in downtown Charleston, which consists of a laundromat tucked inside a café, so patrons can eat while their clothes wash. (More on that concept later.) I discovered after some dedicated searching that I wasn’t too far off in my hypothesis regarding the regional origins of the words.

At this point, I must shamefully confess that I used a source, Wikipedia, which I try not to use if I can find other sources, but I found some helpful information on the history of “Self-service laundry,” specifically washeterias and laundromats in this article.

In April, 1934, J. F. Cantrell opened “the first commercial washateria (laundromat) in the United States,” in Fort Worth, Texas, according to Texas Landmarks and Legacies (cited by Wikipedia). Cantrell offered the short-term rental of four steam-powered washing machines by the hour, hence a Southern rooting of “washateria.”

In the early 1940s in New York City, Harry Greenwald discovered a demand for self-service washing machines. He invented a coin meter which he pitched to Westinghouse. Westinghouse agreed to put his coin meter exclusively on their washing machines and trademarked the word, “Laundromat,” providing a northern rooting of that word. (Greenwald’s son, Ken, remembers his father’s role in creating the “Laundromat” in a post on the blog, Word Wizard.) Greenwald’s son, Ken, remembers his father adopting the word “laundromat” based on the idea of the automat which dispenses food.

“Washeteria” is adapted from the idea of cafeteria, a type of self-service place, with the “-teria” meaning “a suffix used commercially to form the name of self-service retail or catering establishments,” attached to “café” meaning coffee, although according to the OED, a cafeteria has evolved from a coffee house to “a restaurant, esp. a self-service restaurant.” With marriage between cafeteria and washeteria—automat and laundromat--in mind, I was highly amused to find the Persimmon Café in downtown Charleston with a laundromat in the back.

An example of the usage of “washeteria” in the OED includes the following wry complaint from the Sunday Times on July 17, 1966: “Now that we have grown accustomed to the blandishments of . . . something called Washeterias, the next step may be drive-in laundries.” Sonic, here is a business idea for you. Your customers can super-size their food and drink orders to include laundry services, so your skating servers can serve up laundry along with sodas. Also, if someone spills food while eating in the car, laundry facilities are close at hand.

People in the American South go to the washeteria for self-service clothes laundering, people in other areas of the United States go to the laundromat, and people in Britain go to the launderette. A self-service laundry facility by any other name makes the clothes smell just as sweet!