Cinque

Cinque (pronounced singk)

(1) In certain games (those using cards, dice, dominoes etc), a card, die, or domino with five spots or pips.

(2) As cinquefoil (1) a potentilla (flower), (2) in heraldry, a stylized flower or leaf with five lobes and (3) in topology, a particular knot of five crossings.

1350–1400: From the Middle English cink, from the Old French cinq (five), from the Vulgar Latin cinque, from the Latin quīnque (five).  The archaic spelling cinq was from the modern French cinq, whereas the standard spelling probably emerged either under the influence of the Italian cinque or was simply a misspelling of the French.  In typically English fashion, the pronunciation “sank” is based on a hypercorrect approximation of the French pronunciation, still heard sometimes among what use to be called “the better classes”.  The alternative forms were cinq (archaic), sinque (obsolete) and sink & sank (both misspellings).  The homophones are cinq, sink, sync & synch (and sank at the best parties); the noun plural is cinques.

Cinque outposts, attested since the 1640s was a term which referred to the five senses.  The noun cinquecento (written sometimes as cinque-cento) is used in (as noun & adjective) criticism & academic works when describing sixteenth century Italian art and literature.  It dates from 1760, from the Italian cinquecento (literally “500”) and was short for mil cinquecento (1500).  The use to describe "a group of five, five units treated as one," especially at cards or dice, dates from the late fourteenth century and in English was borrowed directly from the French cinq, a dissimilation from Latin quinque (five) which in Late Latin also picked up the familiar spelling cinque.  The ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European penkwe (five).

Cinquefoil housing stained glass (leadlight) window.

In architecture, a cinquefoil is a ornament constructed with five cuspidated divisions, the use dating from the late fifteenth century, from the Old French cinqfoil, the construct being cinq (five) + foil (leaf).  The basis for the French form was the quinquefolium, the construct being quinque (five) + folium (leaf), from the primitive Indo-European root bhel- (to thrive, bloom).  In Gothic tracery, there was a wide use of circular shapes featuring a lobe tangent to the inner side of a larger arc or arch, meeting other lobes in points called cusps projecting inwards from the arch and architects defined them by the number of foils used, indicated by the prefix: trefoil (3), quatrefoil (4), cinquefoil (5), multifoil etc.  Although used as stand-alone fixtures, bands of quatrefoils were much used for enrichment during the "Perpendicular Period" (the final phase of English Gothic architecture, dated usually between circa 1350–1550; it followed the "Decorated Style" and was characterized by strong vertical lines, large windows with intricate tracery, and elaborate fan vaulting) and, when placed with the axes set diagonally, quatrefoils were called cross-quarters.

Porsche "phone-dial" wheels, clockwise from top left: 1981 911SC, 1988 924S, 1987 944S & 1985 928S.  With a myriad of variations, the cinquefoil motif was a style for wheels used by a number of manufacturers, the best known of which were the ones with which Porsche equipped the 911, 924, 944 & 928 where they were known as the “phone-dial”, a reference which may puzzle those younger than a certain age.  Because these have five rather than ten holes, they really should have picked up the nickname "cinquefoil" rather than "phone-dial" but the former was presumably too abstract or obscure so the more accessible latter prevailed.

Fiat 500 (2023), watercolor on paper by Monika Jones.  While the artist hasn't provided notes, it's tempting to imagine the inspiration was something like “Lindsay Lohan in white dress during summer in Rome, leaning on Fiat 500, painted in the tradition of Impressionism.”

A classic of the La Dolce Vita era, the rear-engined Fiat 500 was in continuous production between 1957-1975 and was the successor to the pre-war Fiat 500 Topolino, an even more diminutive machine which proved its versatility in roles ranging from race tracks to inner-city streets to operating as support vehicles used by the Italian Army in the invasion of Abyssinia (1935).  Almost 3.9 million of the post-war 500s (dubbed the Nuova Cinquecento (New 500)) were produced and as well as the two-door saloon (almost all fitted with a folding sunroof) there were three-door station wagons (the Giardiniera) & panel vans.  Although not all wore the 500 badge, in the home market, universally Italians called them the Cinquecentro.  There was also the unusual 500 Jolly, a cut down version built by Carrozzeria Ghia which featured wicker seats and a removable fabric roof in the style of the surrey tops once used on horse-drawn carriages.  The Jolly was intended as “beach car”, some carried on the yachts of the rich and although Ghia built only 650 originals, many 500s have since been converted to “Jolly Spec”, one of coach-building’s less-demanding tasks.  Being an Italian car, there were of course high-performance versions, the wildest of which was the Steyr-Puch 650 TR2 (1965-1969) which ran so hot it was necessary to prop open the engine cover while it was in use.  The Nuova 500’s successors never achieved the same success but such was the appeal of the original that in 2007 a retro-themed 500 was released although, al la Volkswagen’s “new Beetles” (1997-2019), the configuration was switched to a water-cooled front-engine with FWD (front-wheel-drive).

1985 Ferrari Testarossa “monospecchio-monodado”.

The early Testarossas were fitted with centre-lock magnesium-alloy wheels, chosen for their lightness.  Responding to feedback from the dealer network, as a running-change during 1988, these were substituted for units with a conventional five-bolt design.  The centre-lock wheels were called monodado (one nut) while the five lug-types were the cinquedado (five nut) and because of the time-line, while all the monospecchio cars are also monodado, only some of the monodaddi are monospecchi.  Monospecchi (literally "one mirror") is an unofficial designation for the early cars fitted with a single external mirror, mounted unusually high on the A-pillar, the location the product of Ferrari's interpretation of the EU's (European Union) rearward visibility regulations.  The Eurocrats later clarified things and Testarossas subsequently were fitted with two mirrors in the usual position at the base of the A-pillar. 

Plastic wheelcover for the Ford (Australia) Fairmont XE (1982-1984, left), a circa 1949 British GPO standard telephone in Bakelite (centre) (globally, the most produced handset in this style was the Model 302, which, with a thermoplastic case, was manufactured in the US by Western Electric between 1937-1955 and plastic wheelcover for the Ford (Australia) Fairmont XF (1984-1988, right).  Telephones with larger dial mechanisms usually didn't use all the available space for the finger-holes.

Probably some are annoyed at the “five-hole” wheel design coming to be known as the “phone-dial” because of course the classic rotary-dial mechanism had ten holes, one for each numeral.  Ford Australia actually stuck to the classics when designing a plastic wheel-cover for the XE Fairmont (then the next rung up in the Falcon's pecking order) because it featured the correct ten holes and it was re-allocated as a “hand-me-down” for the Falcon when the XF was introduced, the Fairmont now getting an eight-hole unit.  None of these seem ever to have been dubbed “phone-dials”, probably because plastic wheel–covers have never been a fetish like the older metal versions or aluminium wheels (often as “rims” in modern usage, a practice which also annoys some).  The XE hubcap may be thought a decemfoil (10 leaf) and the XF unit a octofoil (8 leaf).

1971 Ford (South Africa) XY Fairmont GT with the GS Pack wheel covers.

The South African Fairmont GTs were never fitted with the "five slot" wheels used in Australia, getting instead the chromed wheel cover which in Australia was part of the "GS Pack", a collection of "dress-up" options designed to provide much of the look of a GT without the additional costs to purchase or insure one.  The GS Pack wheel covers were first seen in Australia on the 1967 XR Falcon GT and came from the Mercury parts bin in the US where they'd appeared on the 1966 Mercury Comet Cyclone GT; they were designed to look like a chromed, naked wheel, the idea a tribute to the Californian hot rod community in which the motif originated.

1971 Ford (Australia) XY Falcon GT with “five slot” wheels.

Although scholars of Latin probably haven’t given much thought to the wheels Ford used in the 1960s & 1970s, their guidance would be helpful because the correct Latin form for “slot” depends on context, the words being (1) Fissura: “crack, split or narrow opening”, (2) Rima: “narrow gap or slit”, (3) Foramen: “opening, hole or perforation” and (4) Scissura “cleft or division”.  So a XY GT’s wheel would be a cinquefissura, cinquerima, cinqueforamen or cinquescissura.  The scholars would have to rule but cinquerima seems best, tied in nicely with the modern (albeit contested) use of “rim” to mean wheel.      

In production over six generations between 1965-2008 the Fairmont was a "blinged-up" version of the Australian Ford Falcon (1960-2016), a car based on the US compact (1960-1969) Ford of the same name (the one-off 1970 US Falcon an entry level model in the intermediate Torinio (formerly Fairlane) range).  Ford in the US would also use the Fairmont name for a compact (1978-1983) but the most quirky use was that between 1969-1971, Ford South Africa sold a car substantially similar to the Australian Falcon GT but badged it "Fairmont GT".  Assembled (with some local components) in South Africa from CKD (completely knocked down) packs imported from Australia, the Fairmont name was chosen because US Falcons (assembled from Canadian CKD packs) had been sold in South Africa between 1960-1963 but had gained such a bad reputation (Ford Australia had to do much rectification work after encountering the same fragility) the nameplate was decreed tainted.  In the technical sense, "Fairmont GT" would have been a more accurate name in Australia too because the Falcon GTs were, with the bling, built on the Fairmont assembly line; the choice of "Falcon GT" was just a desire by the marketing team to create a "halo" machine for the mainstream range, something which succeeded to an degree which probably surprised even those ever-optimistic types.  Ford South Africa never offered a Fairmont GTHO to match the Falcon GTHOs produced in Australia to homologate certain combinations of parts for competition.

Lamborghini has used the phone-dial since the first incarnation appeared on the Silhouette in 1976 and it likes it still, left to right: Huranan, Gallardo, Countach, Diablo and Silhouette.  With five "holes", these are true cinquefoils.

Despite being often called a "hubcap", what appeared on the South African Fairmont GTs really was a "wheel cover".  The origin of the hubcap was, fairly obviously, “a cap for hub”, something which dates from the age of horse-drawn carts.  Although they would later become something decorative, hubcaps began as a purely function fitting designed to ensure the hub mechanism was protected from dirt and moisture because removing a wheel when the hub was caked in mud with bolts “rusted on” could be a challenge.  In the twentieth century the practice was carried over to the automobile, initially without much change but as wheels evolved from the wooden-spoked to solid steel (and even in the 1920s some experimented with aluminium), the hubcaps became larger because the securing bolts were more widely spaced.  This meant they became a place to advertise so manufacturers added their name and before long, especially in the US, the humble hubcap evolved into the “wheel-cover”, enveloping the whole circle and they became a styling feature, designs ranging from the elegant to the garishly ornate and some were expensive: in 1984 a set of replacement “wire” wheel covers for a second generation Cadillac Seville (the so-called “bustle-back”, 1980-1985) listed at US$995.00 if ordered as a Cadillac part-number and then that was a lot of money.  By the late 1980s, most wheel covers were plastic pressings, other than in places like the isolated environments behind the Iron Curtain.

Beltless: Lindsay Lohan in 2004 using touch-dial wall-phone, note the hooking of the thumbs in the belt loops.

Remarkably, although touch-dial (ie buttons) handsets appeared in the consumer market as early as 1963 and soon became the standard issue, in 2024 it’s possible still to buy new, rotary-dial phones although only the user experience remains similar; internally the connections are effected with optical technology, the “sound & feel” emulated.  There’s also a market for updating the old Bakelite & Thermoplastic units (now typically between 70-90 years old) with internals compatible with modern telephony so clearly there’s some nostalgia for the retro-look, if not the exact experience.  Even after the touch-dial buttons became ubiquitous the old terminology persisted among users (and in the manufacturers' documents); when making calls users continued to "dial the number".  The same sort of linguistic legacy exists today because ending a call is still the act of "hanging up" and that dates from the very early days of telephony when the ear-piece was a large conical attachment on a cord and at a call's conclusion, it was "hung up" on a arm, the weight of the receiver lowering the arm which physically separated two copper connectors, terminating the link between the callers.  

Ms Justine Haupt with custom rotary-dial cell phone in turquoise.

Ms Justine Haupt (b 1987), an astronomy instrumentation engineer at New York’s Brookhaven National Laboratory went a step further (backwards, or perhaps sideways, some might suggest) and built a rotary-dial cell phone from scratch because of her aversion to what she describes as “smartphone culture and texting”, something to which many will relate.  In what proved a three year project, Ms Haupt used a rotary-dial mechanism from a Trimline telephone (introduced in 1965 and produced by Western Electric, the manufacturing unit of the Bell System), mounted on a case 4 x 3 x 1 inches (100 x 75 x 25 mm) in size with a noticeably protuberant aerial; it used an AT&T prepaid sim card and has a battery-life of some 24-30 hours.  Conforming to the designer’s choices of functionality, it includes two speed-dial buttons, an e-paper display and permits neither texting nor internet access.  

Designer colors: Available in black, white, turquoise, beige and the wonderful Atomic Hotline Red.  The "atomic" in the name is an allusion the hotline's origin in the aftermath of the Cuban Missile Crisis (October 1962) which was all about nuclear weapons.

Although she intended the device as a one-off for her own use, Ms Haupt was surprised at the interest generated and in 2022 began selling a kit (US$170) with which others could build their own, all parts included except the rotary-dial mechanism which would need to be sourced from junk shops and such.  Unlike the larger mechanism on the traditional desk or wall-mounted telephone, the holes in the Trimline’s smaller rotary-dial used the whole circle so the ten-hole layout is symmetrical and thus the same as the XE Fairmont’s wheelcover, something doubtlessly wholly coincidental.  Unfortunately, Ms Haupt encountered many difficulties (bringing to market a device which connects to public telephony networks involves processes of greater complexity than selling mittens and such) but the project remains afoot.

The rough-fruited cinquefoil or sulphur cinquefoil (Potentilla recta).

In botany, the potentila is a genus containing some three-hundred species of annual, biennial and perennial herbaceous flowering plants in the rose (rosaceae) family.  Since the 1540s it’s been referred to as the cinquefoil (also “five fingers” or “silverweeds”), all distinguished by their compound leaves of five leaflets.

The Confederation of Cinque Ports was a group of coastal towns in Kent, Sussex and Essex, the name from the Old French which means literally “five harbors”.  The five were Hastings, Sandwich, Dover, Romney, and Hythe, all on the western shore of the English Channel, where the crossing to the continent is narrowest.  Because of (1) their importance in cross-channel trade and (2) being in the region ,most vulnerable to invasion, they were granted special privileges and concessions by the Crown in exchange for providing certain services essential for maritime defense, dating from the years prior to the formation of the Royal Navy in the fifteenth century.  The name was first used in the late twelfth century in Anglo-Latin and the late thirteenth in English.

An early version of a PPP (public-private partnership), with no permanent navy to defend it from sea-borne aggression, the crown contracted with the confederation to provide what was essentially a naval reserve to be mobilized when needed. Earlier, Edward the Confessor (circa 1003–1066; King of England 1042-1066) had contracted the five most important strategically vital Channel ports of that era to provide ships and men “for the service of the monarch” and although this was used most frequently as a “cross-Channel ferry service” and was not exclusively at the disposal of the government.  Under the Norman kings, the institution assumed the purpose of providing the communications and logistical connections essential to keeping together the two halves of the realm but after the loss of Normandy in 1205, their ships and ports suddenly became England’s first line of defense against the French.  The earliest charter still extant dates from 1278 but a royal charter of 1155 charged the ports with the corporate duty to maintain in readiness fifty-seven ships, each to be available each year for fifteen days in the service of the king, each port fulfilling a proportion of the whole duty.  In return the ports and towns received a number of tax breaks and privileges including: An exemption from tax and tolls, limited autonomy, the permission to levy tolls, certain law enforcement and judicial rights, possession of lost goods that remain unclaimed after a year and of flotsam (floating wreckage and such) & jetsam (goods thrown overboard).  Even at the time this was thought to be a good deal and the leeway afforded to the Cinque Ports and the substantial absence of supervision from London led inevitability to smuggling and corruption although in this the Cinque Ports were hardly unique.

The Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports was something like a viceroy and the office still exists today but is now purely ceremonial and, although technically relict, remains a sinecure and an honorary title, regarded as one of the higher honors bestowed by the Sovereign and a sign of special approval by the establishment which includes the entitlement to the second oldest coat of arms of England.  The prestige it confers on the holder is derived from (1) it being the gift of the sovereign, (2) it being England’s most ancient military honor and (3), the illustrious standing of at least some of the previous hundred and fifty-eight holders of the office.  It is a lifetime appointment.

William Lygon (1872-1938), seventh Earl Beauchamp, in uniform as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.

The office of lord warden has not been without the whiff of scandal.  William Lygon, who in 1891 succeeded his father as the seventh Earl Beauchamp, was at twenty-seven appointed governor of New South Wales, a place to which he would later return, happily and otherwise.  In 1913, Lord Beauchamp, well-connected in society and the ruling Liberal Party’s leader in the House of Lords, was appointed Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports and, fond of pomp, ceremony and dressing-up, he enjoyed the undemanding role.  However, in 1930, he embarked on a round-the-world tour which included a two-month stint in Sydney, where he stayed, accompanied by a young valet who lived with him as his lover.  This, along with other antics, did not go unnoticed, and the Australian Star newspaper duly reported:

“The most striking feature of the vice-regal ménage is the youthfulness of its members … rosy cheeked footmen, clad in liveries of fawn, heavily ornamented in silver and red brocade, with many lanyards of the same hanging in festoons from their broad shoulders, [who] stood in the doorway, and bowed as we passed in … Lord Beauchamp deserves great credit for his taste in footmen.”

The report found its way to London when Beauchamp’s brother-in-law, the second Duke of Westminster (1879–1953), hired detectives to gather evidence, hoping to destroy him and damage the Liberal Party, the Tory duke hating both.  Evidence proved abundant and not hard to find so in 1931 Westminster publicly denounced Beauchamp as a homosexual to the king (George V 1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom & Emperor of India 1910-1936), who was appalled and responded that he “…thought men like that always shot themselves.”  Westminster insisted a warrant be issued for Beauchamp’s arrest and that forced him into exile.

Lady Beauchamp seems to have shown some confusion upon being informed of her husband’s conduct.  Although he had enjoyed many liaisons in their (admittedly large) residences (his partners including servants, socialites & local fishermen) and his proclivities were an open secret known to many in society, his wife remained oblivious and expressed some confusion about what homosexuality was.  Leading a sheltered existence, Lady Beauchamp had never been told about the mechanics of "the abominable crime of buggery" and baffled, thought her husband was being accused of being a bugler.  Once things were clarified she petitioned for divorce, the papers describing the respondent as:

“A man of perverted sexual practices, [who] has committed acts of gross indecency with male servants and other male persons and has been guilty of sodomy … throughout the married life … the respondent habitually committed acts of gross indecency with certain of his male servants.”

Beauchamp decamped first to Germany which would once have seemed a prudent choice because, although homosexual acts between men had been illegal since the unification of Germany in 1871, under the Weimar Republic (1918-1933), enforcement was rare and a gay culture flourished blatantly in the larger German cities, the Berlin scene famous even then, the writer Christopher Isherwood (1904–1986) describing things memorably although it wasn't until his diaries were later published one fully could "read between the lines".  After the Nazis gained power in 1933, things changed and Beauchamp contemplated satisfying George V’s assumption but was dissuaded, instead spending his time between Paris, Venice, Sydney and San Francisco, then four of the more tolerant cities and certainly places where wealthy gay men usually could bribe their way out of any legal unpleasantness.

Sir Robert Menzies in uniform as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.

Sir Robert Menzies (1894–1978; prime-minister of Australia 1939-1941 & 1949-1966) was one of the more improbable appointments as lord warden.  In the office (1965-1978), he replaced Sir Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) on whom the hardly onerous duties had been imposed in 1941.  The old soldier Churchill had spent a lifetime appearing in military uniforms (his RAF (Royal Air Force) Air Commodore's outfit adorned with "pilot's wings" (aviator badge), apparently "self-awarded" on the basis of flying lessons (concluded after a non-fatal crash) he'd undertaken at the Royal Naval Flying School at Eastchurch on the Isle of Sheppey while serving as First Lord of the Admiralty (1911-1915)) and wore it well but the very civilian Menzies looked something like one of the characters from a Gilbert and Sullivan (Sir William Gilbert (1836–1911) & Sir Arthur Sullivan (1842–1900) comic opera.  That he was made lord warden rather than being granted a peerage was thought by some emblematic of the changing relationship between the UK and Australia.

After the death of George V, the warrant for Beauchamp’s arrest was lifted and, in July 1937, he returned to England.  What did come as a surprise to many was that soon after his arrival, invitations were issued for a Beauchamp ball, ostensibly a coming-of-age celebration for Richard Lygon (1916-1970; the youngest son) but universally regarded as an attempt at a social resurrection.  In a sign of the times, much of London society did attend although there were those who declined and made it known why.  Still, it seems to have appeared a most respectable and even successful event, Henry "Chips" Channon (1897-1958) noting in his diary it was a bit dull, the “only amusing moment when Lord Beauchamp escorted… a negress cabaret singer into supper.  People were cynically amused but I was not surprised, knowing of his secret activities in Harlem.  It is never a long step from homosexuality to black ladies.”  Lord Beauchamp didn’t long enjoy his return to society, dying within a year of the ball but the vicissitudes of his life were helpful to Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966) when writing Brideshead Revisited (1945), the character of Lord Marchmain based on Beauchamp himself while the ill-fated Sebastian Flyte was inspired by Beauchamp’s son Hugh (1904-1936) who shared and (with some enthusiasm) pursued some of his father’s interests.  Despite it all, an appointment as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports is for life and Lord Beauchamp remained in office until his death.

Dogdish

Dogdish (pronounced dog-dish or dawg-dish)

(1) The dish in which a pet dog’s meals are served (probably a rare use because “dog bowl” is the more common (an accurate) descriptor.

(2) In US use, the style of simple hubcap used in the 1960s & 1970s for low-cost vehicles (especially for fleet operators such as police forces) or certain high-performance cars (including those ordered for competition use).

1940s or 1950s (in the automotive context): The word dog pre-dates the eleventh century and was from the Middle English dogge (akin to the Scots dug), from the Old English dogga & docga, of uncertain origin.  The documentary evidence from a thousand years ago is unsurprisingly scant but does suggest “dog” was used to mean something like the modern “cur” or “mutt” (ie a common or stray dog as opposed to one of good breeding), later refined to be applied to “large or stocky canines”.  The Old English dogga & docga may have been a pet-form diminutive of dog, the appended suffix -ga also used of pet frogs (frocga) and pigs (picga).  The ultimate source of dog (and the meaning) is uncertain but there may be some link with the Old English dox (dark, swarthy) or the Proto-West Germanic dugan (to be suitable), the latter the origin of the Old English dugan (to be good, worthy, useful), the English dow, the Dutch deugen and the German taugen.  It’s all speculative but the most supported theory appears to be it was likely a children’s epithet for dogs meaning something like “good creature”.  Less supported is the notion of a relationship with docce (stock, muscle), from the Proto-West Germanic dokkā (round mass, ball, muscle, doll), from which English gained dock (stumpy tail) and ultimately (in that context) docking (the removal of a tail.  In England, as late as the early fifteenth century, the common words used of domestic canines was hound, from the Old English hund while dog tended to be restricted to a sub-type resembling the modern mastiff and bulldog.  In the way English tends towards shorter forms, by the sixteenth century dog had become the general word with hound increasingly a specialist word used of hunt dogs (accounting for all those English pubs called “The fox & hounds”.  At the same time, the word dog was adopted by several continental European languages as their word for mastiff although this use didn’t persist as “dog” became more generalized.  Etymologists note that despite the overlaps in form and meaning, the English word was not related to the Mbabaram dog.  Dish predated the tenth century and was from the Middle English dish & disch, from the Old English disċ (plate; bowl; dish), from the Proto-West Germanic disk (table; dish), from the Latin discus, from the Ancient Greek δίσκος (dískos) (quoit, disc, discus, dish, trencher, round mirror, reliquary, marigold).  For centuries the orthodox etymology of dískos was that it was from δίκ-σκος (dík-skos), from δικεῖν (dikeîn) (to cast) but more recent scholarship have cast doubts on this on the grounds the suffix -σκο- was rare in nominal derivation.  The alternative suggestion was δισκ- (disk-) was a variant of δικεῖν (dikeîn) (of pre-Greek origin) rather than a direct formation.  Dogdish is a noun; the noun plural is dogdishes.

The dogdish hubcap

Dogdishes (also as dog dish or dog-dish and there’s even a faction which calls them “pie pans” although the most evocative collective is “poverty caps”) are a basic, unadorned style of hubcap used with steel wheels (“steelies” to the tappet-heads).  Although some steel wheels could be stylish (notably those offered by the US manufacturers in the 1960s & 1970s and those Jaguar fitted to some E-Types (XKE) and XJs, in passenger vehicles, lighter aluminium wheels have in recent decades become the standard fitting for all but the cheapest models in a range.  However, the steel wheel possesses a number of virtues as well as being cheaper than aluminium units, notably their resistance to impact injuries and ease of repair, the latter the reason they’re still the choice for many police & commercial vehicles.  The steel wheel is inherently heavier so not the ideal choice for high performance use but their characteristics are attractive for off-road users who appreciate being able to effect repairs in remote places with little more equipment than a hammer.

1929 Mercedes-Benz 460 Nürburg (W08, 1928-1933); a Nürburg was the first "Popemobile" (supplied by the factory to Pius XI (1857–1939; pope 1922-1939) and the official car of Eugenio Pacelli (1876-1958, the future Pope Pius XII (1939-1958)) while Apostolic Nuncio to Germany (1920–1930).  The wheels were fashioned in timber and the hubcaps were of stainless steel.  Wooden wheels were by 1929 already archaic although some were still being produced as late as 1939.  Typically, hickory was favored because of its strength, flexibility and shock resistance which made it able to cope with the stresses imposed by the often rough roads of the era.

1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham.  During the 1930s, for various reasons (dirt protection, aerodynamics and, increasingly, aesthetics), hubcaps grew to become "wheel covers" and in the hands of US stylists in the 1950s they became an integral component of the whole design, used for product differentiation and the establishment of a model's place in the hierarchy.  Compared with the excesses which would be seen in the 1960s & 1970s, those on the 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham were almost restrained.      

The origin of the hubcap was, fairly obviously, “a cap for hub”, something which dates from the age of horse-drawn carts.  Although they would later become something decorative, hubcaps began as a purely function fitting designed to ensure the hub mechanism was protected from dirt and moisture because removing a wheel when the hub was caked in mud with bolts “rusted on” could be a challenge.  In the twentieth century the practice was carried over to the automobile, initially without much change but as wheels evolved from the wooden-spoked to solid steel (and even in the 1920s some experimented with aluminium), the hubcaps became larger because the securing bolts were more widely spaced.  This meant they became a place to advertise so manufacturers added their name and before long, especially in the US, the humble hubcap evolved into the “wheel-cover”, enveloping the whole circle and they became a styling feature, designs ranging from the elegant to the garishly ornate and some were expensive: in 1984 a set of replacement “wire” wheel covers for a second generation Cadillac Seville (the so-called “bustle-back”, 1980-1985) listed at US$995.00 if ordered as a Cadillac part-number and then that was a lot of money.

1969 COPO Chevrolet Camaro ZL1.  Only 69 units in this configuration were built for not only was the all-aluminium ZL1 a highly-strung engine not suited to street use, it added US$4160.15 to a V8 Camaro's base price of US$2727.00 restricting demand to those who really did want to run on drag strips.  The basic interior fittings and dogdish hubcaps saved buyers a few dollars. 

But the dogdishes persisted because police forces and other fleet operators ordered cars with them in large volumes and many thrifty private buyers opted for them too.  As the cult they are today however, the origin lies in their appearance on muscle cars during the 1960s.  Sometimes their inclusion was as a cost-cutting measure such as the 1968 Plymouth Road Runner although in 1969, when the model was made available with a triple carburetor version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8, even the dogdishes weren't included in the package and the cars shipped to dealer with the five chromed lug nuts exposed, the companion Dodge Super Bee also so de-contented.  Those purchasing something for competition (such as the Chevrolet Camaros fitted with 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) engines via General Motors’ (GM) COPO (Central Office Production Order) scheme used usually for volume runs of things like vans for utility companies or police interceptors with the high-performance but not the "dress-up" options) also usually would opt for the steelie/dogdish combo.  The apparent anomaly of the high-performance Camaros running the dogdishes (already referred to as “poverty caps”) was that the buyer would anyway be fitting their own wheel/tyre combination so the vehicle was supplied ex-factory with the cheapest option.  The photographic record suggests that in truth, when new, relatively few muscle cars prowled the street with dogdishes still attached, something more stylish usually fitted at some point during ownership but they’ve become so emblematic of the era that reproductions are now available for those undertaking restorations or creating their own clone (tribute/faux/fake/replica etc); authenticity can be emulated.

1973 Maserati Bora 4.9 with the early (1971-1975) aluminium wheels fitted with "frisbee" (not dogdish) hubcaps (left), 1977 Maserati Bora 4.9 with the later (1975-1978) aluminium wheels without hubcaps (centre) and 1974 Maserati Merak 3.0 (right).

So in the US, the dogdish tended to appear on (1) the cheapest cars in a range, (2) those purchased (sometimes in the thousands) by fleet operators interested only in cost-breakdown or (3) those buying a car for racing, the wheels of which were going to be discarded immediately upon delivery.  In Europe however, things were done differently and one of history’s plainest hubcaps appeared on a top-of-the-range model: Between 1971-1975, the mid-engined Maserati Bora (Tipo AM117; 1971-1978) was equipped with removable, polished stainless steel hubcaps (which the Maserati cognoscenti call frisbees) on its 7½ x 15 inch (190.5 x 381 mm) Campagnolo aluminium wheels.  Although structurally different, the less expensive Merak (Tipo AM122; 1972-1983) used a similar body but was equipped with 2.0 & 3.0 V6 engines rather than the Bora’s 4.7 & 4.9 litre V8s, the smaller engines meaning the Merak was able to be fitted with two rear seats (most suitable for small children or contortionists).  The Merak used wheels in the same style without the frisbees and after 1975 this configuration extended to the Bora.  Rarely has there been a hubcap plainer than the those used on the Bora but anyone calling it a “poverty cap” would be shocked by the price they command as used parts; on the rare occasions they’re available, they've been listed at US$700-2000 apiece.  Unlike the Merak which was named after a star in the constellation of Ursa Major, the Bora borrowed its name from a wind which blows along the Adriatic coast, the company over the years having used the names of a number of (usually hot) winds from North Africa and the Middle East including Ghibli, Khamsin, Shamal and Karif.

Dogdish owner: Lindsay Lohan leaving a Lincoln Town Car with Chloe the Maltese (which lived to the reasonable age of 15), May 2008, New York City.  He first dog, also a Maltese, she called Gucci, the name explained by the puppy arriving simultaneously with her “first pair of Gucci boots”.  The dog promptly chewed up the boots.

Usually, in the collector market, what commands the highest price is a vehicle which left the factory fitted with the most options, the “fully-optioned” machine the most desirable (although the odd extra-cost item like an automatic transmission or a vinyl roof can detract), the dogdishes don’t deter buyers, most of who would probably admit the various styled steel wheels of the era were better looking.  In August 2024, the most highly optioned 1969 Dodge Daytona in the most desirable mechanical configuration (the 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) Street Hemi V8 & four-speed manual transmission combination) achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction at Monterey, California.  The price was impressive but what attracted the interest of the amateur sociologists was the same Daytona in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum at their auction held at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 Daytonas built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.

The US$3.36 million 1969 Dodge Daytona.  When new, the Daytona (and the more numerous companion "winged warrior" Plymouth Superbird) was sometimes difficult for dealers to sell, the wild body modifications not appealing to all.  Consequently, so resorted to returning them to the same visual appearance as standard Dodge Chargers.  Now, the process is reversed and a number of Chargers have been transformed into "clone" Daytonas.   

The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive.  That’s how the collector market now works.

1971 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda: US$410,000 in 1999; US$3.36 million in 2014, the appreciation due to (1) the supply & demand curve and (2) the largess of the US Federal Reserve.  For those wanting "the look", reproduction stainless steel dogdishes are available for US$258.00 (set of four). 

Despite the result, the green Daytona’s result wasn’t even the highest price a Chrysler product had achieved at auction, that mark set in Seattle in 2014 when one of the five four-speed manual 1971 Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda convertibles (there were another seven automatics) sold US$3.78 million.  While the outcome of such a rarity was not indicative of broader market trends (although there have been stellar performances for classic Mercedes-Benz and pre-1973 Ferraris), it did illustrate the effect of the increase in the global money supply in the wake of the GFC (Global Financial Crisis, 2008-2012) when central banks essentially not only “replaced” much of money the rich had lost gambling but gave them a healthy bonus as well.  The Hemi ‘Cuda in December 1999 had (albeit in its original, un-restored state sold at auction for US$410,000 so the successful US$3.36 million bid 14 years on was an increase of more than 800%, the sort of RoI (return on investment) which would once have impressed even Richard "Dick" Fuld (b 1946), chairman & CEO of Lehman Brothers (1850-2008).  Time however will tell if the money spent in 2014 was a good investment because when another four-speed 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda convertible was offered for auction in 2021, despite predictions it would go for as much as US$6.5 million, it was passed-in at US$4.8 million without reaching the reserve.  The car was fitted with Chrysler’s “Rallye” wheels rather than the steelie/dogdish combo but this was not thought to be of any significance.

Mecum Auctions catalogue image of 1971 four-speed Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda convertible with 15" Rallye wheels.  Passed in on a high-bid of US$4.8 million, it'll be interesting to see if, when next offered, steelies & dogdishes are fitted.

Shemozzle

Shemozzle (pronounced sch-moz-il)

(1) In slang, a state of chaos or confusion (especially if noisy); an uproar.

(2) In slang, a quarrel (especially if noisy).

(3) In slang, to run away; to flee; to scarper (rare).

Late 1800s (in English and some sources cite 1889 as the first known instance of use): From the Yiddish שלימזל (shlimazl) (bad luck; difficulty; misfortune), the construct being shlim (bad, ill), from the Middle High German slimp (awry, not right) + the Hebrew מַזָּל (mazzāl), from the Late Hebrew mazāl (luck, fate, (one’s) star) and cognate with the US English schlimazel (an unlucky person).  There are many variations of the German joke (such things really exist, even in Prussia) to explain the related nouns shlemiel & shimazl but all are in the flavor of: “A shlemiel is the fellow who climbs to the top of a ladder with a bucket of paint and then drops it and a shimazl is the fellow on whose head the bucket falls.”  The colloquial German noun Schlamassel (plural Schlamassel) (trouble, difficult situation, misfortune) was from the same Yiddish source.  The gender of Schlamassel is usually masculine in Germany except in the southern state of Bavaria where, like the neighboring Austria it can also be neuter, this prevalent in the latter.  Because from the ninth century Yiddish evolved from its West-Germanic origins as a vernacular tongue which a number of forks & parallel streams in Europe, the Middle East and North America before being (sort of) standardized in the mid-twentieth century in “Western” and “Eastern” variants, many words spread by oral use and the a variety of spellings was not unusual and other spellings of shemozzle included: chemozzle, chermozzle, chimozzle, schemozzle, schimozzle, schlemozzle, schmozzle, shamozzle, shimozzel, shimozzle, shlemozel & shlemozzle.  The modern alternative spelling is schmozzle.  Schmozzle is a noun & verb and shemozzled & shemozzling are verbs; the noun plural is schmozzles (which is sometimes used also as a singular).  In humorous use, shemozzle is used also as a collective noun.

Because there’s rarely been reluctance by English-speakers to adopt words from other languages if they’re useful, better than what’s in use or just an attractive alternative, there no compelling reason to use shemozzle because there are so many other words and phrases to describe states of noisy chaos or confusion.  Obvious candidates include frenzy, mess, fiasco, snafu, chaos, clusterfuck (often sanitized as the clipped “cluster”), commotion, hubbub, kerfuffle, débacle, disarray, confusion, turmoil, ado, affray, altercation, argument, battle, bickering, brawl, brouhaha, bust-up, bustle, clash, combat, commotion, competition, conflict, contention, controversy, debate, discord, dispute, muddle, dissension, disturbance, dustup, fracas, quarrel, row, ruction, scandal, strife, struggle, tiff, tumult, uproar, wrangle, disorganized, disorder, mayhem, pandemonium, uproar, havoc & bedlam.  That the list is long suggests shemozzles are a significant and not infrequent feature of human interaction and the choice of which to use is one of nuance, the connotation one wishes, some of the words emphasizing the chaos, some the conflict.  Shemozzle is an attractive choice because (1) most know what it means, (2) it’s not commonly heard so has some novelty value and (3) it's a "fun" word to say.

A media shemozzle snapping Lindsay Lohan walking into LA Superior Court, Los Angeles, February 2011.

A shemozzle can be used to illustrate chaos theory, a conceptual model of the phenomenon of an event’s ultimate trigger being something distant and apparently unconnected with its consequences.  Physicists illustrate the idea by speculating that waving one’s hands in the air might, some billions of years hence, alter the Earth’s speed of rotation and the most commonly quoted thought experiment is the metaphor for the behavior: “Can a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil cause a tornado in Texas?”  It’s an intriguing topic for those building big-machine models which can both explore and reveal patterns in what was once thought randomness.

The shemozzle of reporters and photographers clustered when Lindsay Lohan in February 2011 walked to one of the well-publicized (and not infrequent) court appearances of her “troubled Hollywood starlet” phase wasn’t unexpected and nor would she have found it an unfamiliar environment, the yellow & black plastic “Police Line: DO NOT CROSS” tape strung between the bollards vaguely reminiscent of the velvet rope & stanchions which define the limits for photographers at red-carpet events.  What was unpredicted was the almost immediate effect in commerce, the white Kimberly Ovitz (b 1983) Glavis Albino bandage dress from the houses pre-fall collection reported as “sold out worldwide” within hours of the images appearing on-line, a reasonable achievement for a piece listed at US$575 made in a run of a few hundred.

The matter before the court raised no novel legal points and thus attracted little analysis but the re-purposing of the walk to the arraignment as an impromptu catwalk strut triggered a shemozzle of its own as women around the world clamoured to buy their own Glavis Albino and media companies sought comment from Kimberly Ovitz, anxious to learn if the appearance was some sort of “sponsored promotion”.  A representative from the company was soon quoted as saying “Kimberly had no role in Lindsay Lohan wearing the dress” which Ms Lohan had purchased.  Apparently disappointed, the journalists resorted to dutifully noting her “signature Chanel 5182 sunglasses.”

Ms Lohan that evening tweeted: “What I wear to court shouldn’t be front page news. It’s just absurd” although her choice of wardrobe for subsequent court appearances hinted she may have concluded absurdity has its place and at Kimberley Ovitz’s corporate headquarters the reaction was equally pragmatic, the company offering retailers a “re-cut” (the industry term for a second production run, a la a “second printing” in the publishing world) of the Glavis Albino in response to the phones “ringing off the hook”.  “It’s been a frenzy!” CBS News quoted an Ovitz sales associate as saying.  So that’s a case study in how the choice should be made: A rabble of photographers milling behind the bollards while shouting questions is “a shemozzle” while desperate fashionistas and boutiques besieging a designer for a frock is “a frenzy”.  Now we know.