Endurance

Endurance (pronounced en-doo r-uhns or en-dyoo r-uhns)

(1) The fact or power of enduring or bearing pain, hardships, etc.

(2) The ability or strength to continue or last, especially despite fatigue, stress, or other adverse conditions; stamina.

(3) Lasting quality; duration.

(4) Something endured, as a hardship; trial.

1485-1495: From the Middle English enduren from the Old French endurer, from the Classical Latin indūrō (to make hard).  Enduren displaced the pre-900 Old English drēogan (congnate with the Gothic driugan (to serve in arms) which survives dialectally as dree (tedious; dreary)).  The meaning "ability to endure suffering" was first noted in the 1660s. The older forms, enduraunce, indurance, induraunce are all long obsolete.  Construct was endure + ance; the suffix –ance (a process or action) added to the stem of verbs to form a noun indicating a state or condition, such as result or capacity, associated with the verb, this especially prevalent with words borrowed from French.  Many words ending in ance were formed in French by alteration of a noun or adjective ending in ant; ance was derived from the Latin anita and enita.

Endurance Racing

There’s no precise definition of endurance racing, it's just a form of competition of greater duration of length than most.  It’s bounced around over the years but events now regarded as endurance races tend to be over a distance of 625 miles (1000 km) or twelve or twenty-four hours long.  Long races existed from the early days of motorsport, the first twenty-four hour event being on an oval circuit at Dayton, Ohio in 1905, followed soon by the opening event at the purpose-built Brooklands circuit in 1907.  One of the epic races was the Targa Florio, first run in 1906.  Held originally on public roads in the mountains of Sicily near the capital Palermo, it was for decades the oldest event for sports cars and a round of the World Sportscar Championship between 1955-1973.  The first few races were a lap of the whole island but as the volume of traffic and competitors increased, it became too disruptive and the track length was reduced to the 72 kilometre (45 mile) Circuito Piccolo delle Madonie, each Targa Florio run over eleven laps.  Safety concerns and the oil crisis conspired to remove it from the world championship after 1973 and it was finally cancelled in 1977.  A much toned-down event is now run annually as a round of the Italian Rally Championship.

Further north, the thousand-mile Mille Miglia, also run on public roads, was first staged in 1927 and although soon one of the classic events on the calendar, it's the 1955 race to which a particular aura still attaches.  Won by Stirling Moss (1929-2020) and  Denis Jenkinson (1920-1996), they used a Mercedes 300SLR, a car which technically complied with the sports car regulations but was actually the factory's formula one machine (W196) with a bigger engine and a streamlined body with seats for two.  It wasn't exactly a "grand prix car with headlights" as some claimed but wasn't that far off.  Officially the W196S (Sports) in the factory register, for marketing purposes it was dubbed (add badged) as the 300SLR to add lustre to the 300SL Gullwing coupé then on sale.

Mercedes-Benz W196S (300SLR), Mille Miglia, 1955.

The race was completed in 10 hours, 7 minutes and 48 seconds, a average speed of 157.650 km/h (97.96 mph) (the course was never exactly 1000 miles and that year was 1,597 km (992 miles) and at times, the 300SLR touched almost 305 km/h (190mph) which enabled Moss to cover the last 340 km (211 miles) at an average speed of 265.7 km/h (165.1) mph.  The record set in 1955 will stand for all time because the Italian government banned the Mille Miglia after two fatal crashes during the 1957 event, one of which killed nine spectators and a cursory glace at the photographs showing crowds clustered sometimes literally inches from the speeding cars might suggest it's surprising not more died.  Today, the name of the Mille Miglia endures as a semi-competitive tour for historic racing cars which, run since 1977.  By contrast, events run on closed courses have survived, the most famous of which is the 24 Heures du Mans (the Le Mans 24 Hour) and well-known 1000 km, 12 & 24 hour races have been run at Sebring, Laguna Seca, Daytona, Bathurst, the Nürburgring and Spa Francorchamps.

Endurance racing: Porsche 917Ks sideways in the wet; Vic Elford (1935-2022, right #11) and Pedro Rodriguez (1940-1971, left #10), BOAC 1000km, Brands Hatch, April 1970.  The race was the third round of the 1970 World Sports Car Championship.  Chris Amon (1943–2016) put a Ferrari 512S on pole but the 1000 was won (by 5 laps) by Pedro Rodríguez & Leo "Leksa" Kinnunen (1943–2017) in a Porsche 917K entered by John Wyer (1909–1989).  Amon was impressed by the speed maintained by Rodríguez in atrociously wet conditions (although much improved from the lethally unstable version seen a year earlier, even by 1970 the 917 could be difficult to handle even on a dry surface) and is said to have remarked to his pit crew: "Can somebody tell Pedro it's raining?"

Some endurance required: In 2023, the Dowse Art Museum in Wellington, New Zealand, staged the exhibition exploring the 2014 installation at Fort Delta, Melbourne in July 2014 in which New Zealand based artist Claire Harris (b 1982) watched Ms Lohan's entire filmography back to back in a live performance art work over 28 hours.  The issues discussed included “how” and “why” and there were practical tips on developing the stamina required for such feats of endurance.  The companion 34 page illustrated book Happy birthday Lindsay Lohan, 2011-2014 is available on request from the National Library of New Zealand.  The pages are unnumbered, the rational for which is not disclosed.

As a general principle, an "endurance event" tends to be a longer version of something so it’s thus a relative as well as an absolute term.  In sport, something like the Marathon, run over 42 kilometres (26 miles) is the endurance event of running where as the shorter contests are sprints (such as the 100 or 200 meters) or “distance” races (such as the 5,000 or 10,000 metres).  However, were the Marathon not to exist, then the 10,000 would be the “endurance” event of the Olympic Games, the tag attaching to whatever is the longest form.  In other fields, “endurance” can be more nuanced because what some find an “act of endurance” to sit through, others relish and long for more.  Richard Wagner’s (1813–1883)'s Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung, 1876 (usually referred to as “The Ring Cycle”)) is an opera of epic length in cycle consisting of four separate pieces, each of the composer regarded as “an opera”:

Das Rheingold: (The Rhinegold; some 2½ hours with no intermission)
Die Walküre: (The Valkyrie; some 4½-5½ hours with intermissions)
Siegfried: (some 5-5½ hours with intermissions)
Götterdämmerung: (Twilight of the Gods; some 5-6 hours with intermissions)

So, a performance of the Ring Cycle absorbs between 15-17 hours and is thus usually spread over several days, some productions staging the event across a month, each performance (usually three or four) held on a weekend.  Grand Opera really is the West’s greatest artistic achievement and among the aficionados, the Wagnerian devotees are the most dedicated and passionate, some travelling the world to compare and contrast different productions of the Ring.  For them it’s not usually a test of endurance (although a production of which they don’t approve will be a long 17 hours) because they relish every moment but for others it’s probably unthinkable.  Although it’s long been attributed to him, the US humorist Mark Twain (1835-1910) may never have said: “Wagner’s music isn’t as bad as it sounds”, the back-handed compliment reflects the view of the majority, brought up on shorter, more accessible forms of entertainment.  For them, one hour of Wagner would be an endurance test.

The three later individual pieces of The Ring are themselves epic-length operas and Wagner wrote a number in this vein including Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (The Master-Singers of Nuremberg, 1868; 5-6 hours), Parsifal (1882; 4-5 hours), Lohengrin (1850; 4 hours), Tannhäuser (1845; 4 hours) and the incomparable Tristan und Isolde (1965; 4-5 hours).  What came to define “epic length” in Opera was: (1) the typical length of other works and (2) the powers of endurance of those on stage, in the orchestra pit or in the audience.  Other composers did tend to write shorter operas although Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791–1864), Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901), Richard Strauss (1864–1949), Gioachino Rossini (1792–1868) and Hector Berlioz (1803–1869) all produced works running over four hours and it was not unusual for there to be two or even three intermissions.  For profligacy with time however, none match Wagner although some modern composers have written very long operas although their length seems other to be their only memorable feature.

Epics: On vinyl, tracks did lengthen and if the physical limits of vinyl were exceeded, the piece could be spread over more than one disk.  Iron Butterfly’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (1968, left) was 17:05 in length, Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick (1972, centre) was 43:46 (over two disks) while Rush’s 2112 (1976, right) was 20:33.

Cast adrift from the moorings of endurance by internet streaming making available infinite playing time, “songs” in the twenty-first century can last literally hours and an illustrative example is The Rise and Fall of Bossanova by PC III (Michael J Bostwick) which weighs in at a Wagarian 13 hours, 23 minutes, and 32 seconds.  It seems between 2016-2020 to have held the Guinness World Record as the longest song officially released although whether this should be thought a proud boast or admission of guilt will be up to those who listen.  Ominously, one of the implications of AI (artificial intelligence) is that in theory, someone could release a song which, without hesitation, deviation or repetition, goes on forever.

Andy Warhol's Empire is occasionally screened but always on the basis that viewers may "come and go" at any point in its eight hour run-time.

In pop music, the “epic length piece” was shorter by virtue of technological determinism.  Modern pop music (as the term is now understood) began in the 1950s and the standard form of distribution by the 1960s was the LP (long-playing) vinyl album, first released in 1948.  Because the technology of the time limited the duration of music which could fit on the side of a LP disk to about 27 minutes, that became the upper limit for a single song and at that length, it could be called “epic length” or just “an epic”.  Some bands and individuals did produce “epics” with varied results and some were probably better enjoyed (or endured) with drugs.  Not discouraged by the limitations of vinyl, others noted the possibilities offered by double (2 disks) or even triple (3 disks) albums and penned “rock operas”, the need to change disks a convenient operatic touch in that it provided a intermission.  Andy Warhol (1928–1987) took the idea of the endurance test to celluloid, in 1965 releasing Empire, a silent film shot in black & white showing New York’s Empire State Building at night (form a single aspect).  Running for some eight hours and designed to be viewed in slow-motion, it received critical praise from the usual suspects and little interest among even those who frequented art-house cinemas.  Warhol issued as statement saying the purpose was “to see time go by” and it can’t be denied he succeeded, perhaps even more convincingly than his earlier five hour epic Sleep (1964) which was an edited collection of takes of a man sleeping.  Similar scenes may have been found among those who found watching Empire beyond their powers of endurance.

Boomerang

Boomerang (pronounced boo-muh-rang)

(1) A bent or curved piece of tough wood used by some of the Indigenous peoples of Australian as a throwing stick (and for other purposes), one form of which can be thrown so as to return to the thrower.  Such throwing sticks have also been found in archaeological digs in other places.

(2) Based on the use Indigenous peoples of Australia, an object in the shape of a flat curved air-foil that spins about an axis perpendicular to the direction of flight, used for various purposes including sport, training and aeronautical purposes.

(3) In design, anything using the boomerang shape (not always symmetrically)

(4) Something which in flight assumes the shape of a boomerang, such as the “boomerang kick” in certain football codes.

(5) In theatre and other stage environments, a mobile platform (mobile and height-adjustable) used for setting or painting scenery.

(6) In theatre and other stage environments, a batten, usually suspended vertically in the wings, used for mounting lighting units.

(7) In theatre and other stage environments, a device for changing the color of a follow-spot(light).

(8) In psychology, as “boomerang effect”, a strong opposing response caused by attempts to restrict a person's freedom or change their attitudes.

(9) In pathology, as “boomerang dysplasia”, a lethal osteochondrodysplasia in which the bones of the arms and legs are congenitally malformed into the shape of a boomerang.

(10) In air force (originally Royal Air Force (RAF)) slang, the early return of an aircraft from an aborted mission, often attributer to mechanical or other technical problems.

(11) A cocktail made with rye whiskey and Swedish punsch.

(12) Figuratively, something or someone which come backs or returns (as the boomerang behaves when correctly thrown) and when applied to people used especially of those who habitually return (often as “serial boomeranger”).

(13) Something (physical and otherwise, such as a scheme, statement or argument) which causes harm to the originator (the idea of a “rebound” or “backfire”).

(14) The action of coming back, returning or backfiring:

1827: From būmariny (missile weapon used by Aborigines), the recorded phonetic form of a word in one of the now extinct languages spoken by the Dharuk people native to an area in New South Wales now known to geographers as the Sydent basin.  A word pronounced as wo-mur-rang was noted in NSW in 1798 which may have been related but there’s no documentary evidence.  Boomerang is a noun & verb; boomeranger is a noun, boomeranged & boomeranging are verbs, the noun plural is boomerangs.

Benson Microfibre Boomerang Pillow. The manufacturers claim the shape is adaptable to all sleeping positions and provides additional support for joints and relieves pressure points.  It’s also ideal for reading, tablet or laptop use in bed.

The verb use in the sense of “throw a boomerang” seems to have come into use in the 1800s while the figurative sense of “fly back or return to a starting point” was in use by the early twentieth century.  A “boomerang baby”, “boomerang child” or boomerang kid” is one who returns to live in the family home after a period of independent living and known collective as the “boomerang generation”, the phenomenon noted in many countries and associated with financial distress, related especially to the cost of housing.

Indigenous Australian boomerangs from the collections of the Australian National Museum: In pigmented wood (left), a hooked, "number 7" by Yanipiyarti Ned Cox (centre) and with carving of horse and cow (right).

For the Indigenous (Aboriginal) peoples of Australia, the boomerang is as old as creation and since white settlement it has become also a symbol of the enduring strength of Aboriginal culture.  Although no written form of language (in the structured sense used elsewhere) evolved among them, an oral tradition now known “the Dreaming” (apparently no longer “Dreamtime”) extends from the past into the present. In the Dreaming, many of the physical formations of the (lakes, rivers, rock structures, mountains etc) were created when Ancestors threw boomerangs and spears into the earth.  Although the boomerang of the popular imagination is the familiar chevron shape, during the nineteenth century almost 300 language groups were identified by anthropologists and the construction of boomerangs varied, the divergences dictated mostly by the prevailing environment: Larger, heavier boomerangs were associated with inland and desert people while the lighter versions were thrown by coastal and high-country inhabitants.  Despite the perceptions, most were of the non-returning variety and were used as hunting weapons for the killing of birds and game including emu, kangaroo and other marsupials.  Not only was the boomerang a direct-impact device but the technique was also noted of a hunter making a boomerang ricochet off the ground to achieve an ideal angle.  The early observers recorded in skilled hands (and over thousands of years those skills would have been well-honed) the boomerang could be effective when hunting prey at a range up to 100 yards (90 m).

Back To Me (Cavalier's Boomerang Club Mix, 2020) by Lindsay Lohan.

Combination tactics were also observed.  When hunting for birds, a returning boomerang might be thrown above a flock of ducks to simulate the effect of a hovering bird of prey, inducing fright which would make the birds fly into nets set up in their flight path or, if within range, a hunter could cast a non-returning boomerang in the hope of a strike.  A special application and one which relied on a design with none of the famous aerodynamic properties was in the harvesting of fish, heavy boomerangs effective killing weapons of in areas of high tidal variation where fish became trapped in rock pools.   They were also Battle-weapons, used both to throw from some distance and in close combat, the types seen including small, hand-held “fighting sticks” device and some even two yards (1.8 m) in length.  Remarkably, the much the same implements served also as digging sticks used to forage for root and could be used to make fire, the familiar idea of “rubbing sticks together”.  Although these practical may have declined in significance as Western technology has been absorbed, boomerangs remain a prominent feature in Aboriginal dance and music.

Since the techniques developed for the shaping of Perspex and other plastics were (more or less) perfected during World War II (1939-1945), they’ve been widely adopted in industrial mass-production, for better and worse.  One thing made possible was boomerang-shaped taillights on cars which for years were about the most avant-garde of their type although of late, designers have been unable to resist the contortions and complexity made possible by the use of LEDs (light emitting diode).  Some critics insist the “boomerang” tag should be applied only to something in the shale of the “classic” boomerang and that anything asymmetric is properly a “hockey stick” but most seem content with the label.

Top row, left to right: 1969 Pontiac Bonneville, 1970 Hillman Avenger and 1967 Plymouth Barracuda.  Those which point "up" probably work better than those pointing "down" because the latter imposes a "droopiness".

Middle row, left to right: 1967 Chrysler Valiant VE Safari (Wagon), 1967 Chrysler Valiant VE Sedan and 1962 Pontiac Bonneville.  Strangely, although the sedan and wagon versions of the VE Valiant both used the boomerang shape, the moldings were different.

Bottom row, left to right: 1958 Edsel Bermuda station wagon, 1960 Chrysler New Yorker and 1975 Mazda RX-5.  The Edsel's tail lights worked as indicators and because the boomerang shape had link with the detailing on the rear quarter panels, when flashing, they actually "point" in the direction opposite to which the car is turning.  It was a harbinger of the Edsel's fate.

Louis Vuitton’s Fall 2014 campaign shoot with 1972 Maserati Boomerang, Giardini della Biennale, Venice.

The photo-shoot for Louis Vuitton’s Fall 2014 campaign at Venice’s Giardini della Biennale featured the 1972 Maserati Boomerang concept car.  Coordinated by Nicolas Ghesquière (b 1971; LV's women's creative director since 2013) and shot by German photographer Juergen Teller (b 1964), it was a rare appearance of the Boomerang which, designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro (b 1938), had first appeared at the Turin Motor Show as a static mock-up in Epowood (a versatile epoxy used for forming shapes) before being engineered as a fully-finished and working vehicle, built on the underpinnings of a Maserati Bora (1971-1978).  In that configuration it was displayed at the 1972 Geneva show where it was understood as one of the “high-speed wedges” of an era which included the original Lancia Stratos, the Lotus Esprit and, most influentially of all, the Lamborghini Countach, the cluster defining the template around which exotic machines would for decades be built, the design motif still apparent in today’s hypercars.  Eye-catching from the outside, the interior also fascinated with a steering wheel and gauge cluster built as a single console emerging from a distant dashboard, the wheel rotating as the gauges remained stationary.

1972 Maserati Boomerang by Giorgetto Giugiaro.

It was Italdesign, founded by Giorgetto Giugiaro which designed the Maserati 3200 GT (Tipo 338; 1998-2002), a car which, although not exciting in a way many of the marque’s earlier models had been, was an important element in the establishing Maserati’s twenty-first century reputation for functionalism and quality.  Importantly, although in production for only four of the transitional years during which ownership of the brand passed from Fiat to Ferrari and the solid underpinnings would be the basis for the succeeding Coupé and Spyder (4200 GT, Tipo M138; 2001-2007).

Maserati 3200 GT (left) and 1973 Dino 246 GTS (C&F) by Ferrari.  Round lights are better than other shapes.

It was on the 3200 GT that Italdesign used tail-lights in the shape of a boomerang, much comment upon at the time but also a landmark in that they were the first production car to be sold with taillights which were an assembly of LEDs, the outer layer the brake lights, the inner the directional indicators (flashers).  Following the contours of the bodywork and integrated with the truck (boot) lid, they were the most memorable feature on what was otherwise an inoffensive but bland execution which could have come from any factory in the Far East.  They generated much publicity but it’s hard to argue they’re better looking than the classic four round lenses known from many of the best Italians.  Like architects, designers seem often drawn to something new and ugly rather than old yet timeless, the former more likely to attract the awards those in these professions award one-another.

Northrop YB-49 in flight, California, 1952.

The aerodynamic properties of the “flying wing” have long intrigued aircraft designers.  The USAF (United State Air Force) even contemplated putting into production on of Northrop’s design but in the mid-1940s, needing a delivery system for its nuclear bombs which was a known, reliable quantity, opted instead for the Convair B-36 which they acknowledged was obsolescent but would provide a serviceable stop-gap until wings of the upcoming Boeing B-52 could be formed.  That doubtlessly was the correct decision and in the decades since, neither a military or civilian case has been made for the “flying wings”, the machines which have entered service really variations on the proven delta-wing concept but the big Northrop YB-49 & XB-35 possessed an undeniable beauty and it’s a shame all were scraped by 1953.  The air force personnel actually preferred to call them “bat bombers”.

Mutual & Common

Mutual (pronounced myoo-choo-uhl)

(1) Possessed, experienced, performed, etc by each of two or more with respect to the other; reciprocal.

(2) Having the same relation each toward the other.

(3) Of or relating to each of two or more; held in common; shared.

(4) In corporate law, having or pertaining to a form of corporate organization in which there are no stockholders, and in which profits, losses, expenses etc, are shared by members in proportion to the business each transacts with the company:

(5) In informal use, an entity thus structured.

1470–1480: From the Middle English mutual (reciprocally given and received (originally of feelings)), from the Old & Middle French mutuel, from the Latin mūtu(us) (mutual, reciprocal (originally “borrowed”)), the construct being mūt(āre) (to change (source of the modern mutate (ie delta, omicron and all that))) + -uus (the adjectival suffix) + the Middle French -el (from the Latin –ālis (the third-declension two-termination suffix (neuter -āle) used to form adjectives of relationship from nouns or numerals) and rendered in English as –al.  Root was the primitive Indo-European mei- (to change, go, move).  The alternative spelling mutuall is obsolete.  Derived forms used to describe ownership structures such as quasi-mutual and trans-mutual are created as required.  Mutual & mutualist are nouns & adjectives, mutuality, mutualization, mutualism & mutualness are nouns, mutualize, mutualizing & mutualized are verbs and mutually & mutualistically are adverbs; the noun plural is mutuals.

The term "mutually exclusive" is widely used (sometimes loosely) but has a precise meaning in probability theory & formal logic where it describes multiple events or propositions such that the occurrence of any one dictates the non-occurrence of the other nominated events or propositions.  The noun mutualism is used in fields as diverse as corporate law, economic theory, materials engineering, political science and several disciplines within biology (where variously it interacts with and is distinguished from symbiosis).  The phrase "mutual admiration society" is from 1851 and appears to have been coined by Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862) to describe those who habitually were in agreement with each-other and inclined to swap praise.  The "mutual fund", although the structure pre-existed the adjectival use, is from 1950 and these soon came to be known simply as “mutuals”, the word appearing sometimes even in the registered names and the best known of the type were the building societies & benevolent (or friendly) societies, the core structural element of what was the ownership being held in common by the members rather than shareholders.  The concept of the mutual structure is of interest in some jurisdictions because of the suggestion the large assets held by chapters of the Freemasons may be so owned and, with the possibility the aging membership may ultimately result in these assets being dissolved and the proceeds distributed.  If, under local legislation, the structure was found to be mutual, membership might prove unexpectedly remunerative.

The Cold War's "mutually assured destruction" (MAD) is attested from 1963 (although it wasn’t until 1966 it entered general use) and was actually a modification of the Pentagon’s 1962 term “assured destruction” which was a technical expression from US military policy circles to refer to the number of deliverable nuclear warheads in the arsenal necessary to act as a deterrent to attack.  In the public consciousness it was understood but vaguely defined until 1965 when Robert McNamara (1916–2009; US Secretary of Defense 1961-1968) appeared before the House Armed Services Committee and explained the idea was "the minimum threat necessary to assure deterrence: the capability in a retaliatory nuclear attack to exterminate not less than one third the population of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR)”.  The “mutual” was added as the number of deployable Soviet warheads reached a critical strategic mass.  The mastery of statistical analysis served McNamara well until the US escalation of the war in Vietnam when the Hanoi regime declined to conform to follow his carefully constructed models of behavior. 

In social media, a mutual is a pair of individuals who follow each other's social media accounts, whether by agreement or organically and there’s something a niche activity is working out the extent to which the behavior happens between bots.  Mutuality (reciprocity, interchange) was from the 1580s.  Mutually (reciprocally, in a manner of giving and receiving), was noted from the 1530s and the phrase mutually exclusive was first recorded in the 1650s.  The specialized mutualism (from the Modern French mutuellisme) dates from 1845, referring to the doctrine of French anarchist-socialist Pierre-Joseph Proudhon (1809-1865) that individual and collective well-being is attainable only by mutual dependence.  In the biological sciences, it was first used in 1876 to describe "a symbiosis in which two organisms living together mutually and permanently help and support one another" although there are those who differentiate mutualism (a type of co-existence where neither organism is directly affected by the other but the influence they exert on other organisms or the environment is of benefit to the other) from symbiosis (where there’s a co-dependency).

Parimutuel betting is from the French invention pari mutuel (mutual betting), the construct being pari (wager, from parier (to bet) from the Latin pariare (to settle a debt (literally “to make equal”)) from par, from paris (equal) + mutuel (mutual).  It describes a gambling system where all bets of a particular type are pooled and from this (gross-pool), taxes and the vigorish (from the Yiddish וויגריש‎ (vigrish), from the Russian вы́игрыш (výigryš) (winnings), the commission or “hose-take" are deducted.  The dividends are then calculated by dividing the remainder (net pool) by all winning bets.  In many jurisdictions it’s called the Tote after the totalisator, which calculates and displays bets already made; in Australia and New Zealand it’s the basis of the original agency structure of the Totalisator Agency Board (TAB).

The adoption of mutual as a synonym for "common" is from 1630s and was long condemned as being used “loosely, improperly and not infrequently, often by those who should know better”; “mutual friend" seemed the most common offence.  The view was that “mutual” could apply to only two objects and “common” should be used if three or more were involved.  Opinion has thankfully since softened.  Mutual and common (in the sense of the relation of two or more persons or things to each other) have been used synonymously since the sixteenth century and the use is considered entirely standard.  Objections are one of those attempts to enforce create rules in English which never existed, the only outcome being the choice of use treated as a class-identifier by those who care about such things and either ignored or un-noticed by most.  Tautologous use of mutual however should be avoided: One should say co-operation (not mutual co-operation) between two states.

Common (pronounced kom-uhn)

(1) Belonging equally to, or shared alike by, two or more or all in question (as in common property; common interests et al).

(2) Pertaining or belonging equally to an entire community, nation, or culture; public (as in common language; common history et al).

(3) Joint; united.

(4) Prevailing; Widespread; general; universal (eg common knowledge).

(5) Customary, habitual, everyday.

(6) In some jurisdictions a tract of land owned or used jointly by the residents of a community, usually a central square or park in a city or town (often as “the commons” or “the common”).

(7) In domestic & international law, the right or liberty, in common with other persons, to take profit from the land or waters of another, as by pasturing animals on another's land (common of pasturage ) or fishing in another's waters (common of piscary).  Of interest to economist and ecologists because of the disconnection between the economic gain from the commons and the responsibility for its care and management.

(8) Vulgar, ordinary, cheap, inferior etc (as a derogatory expression of class, often in phrases such as “common as muck” or “common as potatoes”, the back-handed compliment “the common-touch” applied to politicians best at disguising their contempt for the voters (or, as they refer to us: “the ordinary people”).

(9) In some (particularly Germanic) languages, of the gender originating from the coalescence of the masculine and feminine categories of nouns.

(10) In grammar, of or pertaining to common nouns as opposed to proper nouns.

(11) In the vernacular, referring to the name of a kind of plant or animal but its common (ie conversational) rather than scientific name (the idea reflected in the phrase “common or garden”).

(12) Profane; polluted (obsolete).

(13) Given to lewd habits; prostitute (obsolete).

(14) To communicate something; to converse, talk; to have sex; to participate; to board together; to eat at a table in common (all obsolete vernacular forms).

1250–1300: From the Middle English comun (belonging to all, owned or used jointly, general, of a public nature or character), from the Anglo-French commun, from the Old French, commun (Comun was rare in the Gallo-Romance languages, but reinforced as a Carolingian calque of the Proto-West Germanic gamainī (common) in the Old French and commun was the spelling adopted in the Modern French) (common, general, free, open, public), from the Latin commūnis (universal, in common, public, shared by all or many; general, not specific; familiar, not pretentious), thought originally to mean “sharing common duties,” akin to mūnia (duties of an office), mūnus (task, duty, gift), from the unattested base moin-, cognate with mean.  The Latin was from a reconstructed primitive Indo-European compound ḱom-moy-ni-s  (held in common), a compound adjective, the construct being ko- (together) + moi-n- (a suffixed form of the root mei- or mey (to change, go, move (hence literally "shared by all").  The second element of the compound was the source also of the Latin munia (duties, public duties, functions; specific office).  It was possibly reinforced in the Old French by the Germanic form of ḱom-moy-ni-s  (ko-moin-i) and influenced also the German gemein, and the Old English gemne (common, public).  Comun and its variations cam to displace the native Middle English imene & ȝemǣne (common, general, universal (from the Old English ġemǣne (common, universal)), and the later Middle English mene & mǣne (mean, common (also from the Old English ġemǣne)) and the Middle English samen & somen (in common, together (from the Old English samen (together)). A doublet of gmina.  Common is a noun, verb & adjective, commoner is a noun & adjective, commonality is a noun and commonly is an adverb; the noun plural is commons.

Common has been used disparagingly of women and criminals since at least the fourteenth century and snobs have added categories since as required.  The meanings "pertaining equally to or proceeding equally from two or more" & "not distinguished, belonging to the general mass" was from circa 1400 whereas the sense of "usual, not exceptional, of frequent occurrence" & "ordinary, not excellent" dates from the late fourteenth century.  Common prayer was that done in public in unity with other worshipers as contrasted with private prayer, both probably more common then than now.  The Church of England's Book of Common Prayer was first published in 1549 and went through several revisions for reasons both theological and political.  The 1662 edition remains the standard collection of the prayer books used in the Anglican Communion and while many churches now use versions written in more modern English, there remain traditionalists who insist on one of the early editions.

The common room was noted first in the 1660s, a place in the university college to which all members were granted common access.  The late fourteenth century common speech was used to describe both English and (less often) vernacular (which came to be called vulgar) Latin.  From the same time, the common good was an English adoption of the Latin bonum publicum (the common weal).  Common sense is from 1839 and is U whereas, because of the tortured grammar, 1848’s common-sensible is thought non-U.  The idea of common sense had been around since the fourteenth century but with a different meaning to the modern: The idea was of an internal mental power supposed to unite (reduce to a common perception) the impressions conveyed by the five physical senses (sensus communisin the Latin, koine aisthesis in the Ancient Greek). Thus it evolved into "ordinary understanding, without which one is foolish or insane" by the 1530s, formalised as "good sense" by 1726 with common-sense in the modern sense the nineteenth century expression.

The mid-fourteenth century common law was "the customary and unwritten laws of England as embodied in commentaries and old cases", as opposed to statute law.  Over the years, this did sometimes confuse people because in different contexts (common law vs statute law; common law versus equity; common law vs civil law) the connotations were different.  The phrase common-law marriage is attested from a perhaps surprisingly early 1909.  In the English legal system, common pleas was from the thirteenth century, from the Anglo-French communs plets (hearing civil actions by one subject against another as opposed to pleas of the crown).  In corporate law, common stock is attested from 1888.  The late fourteenth century commoner is from the earlier Anglo-French where in addition to conveying the expected sense of "one of the common people” also had the technical meaning “a member of the third estate of the estates-general".  In English it acquired the dual meaning as (1) of non-royal blood and (2), since the mid-fifteenth century “a member of the House of Commons”.  Commonly the adverb is from circa 1300 and commonness the noun from the 1520s though it originally meant only "state or quality of being shared by more than one", the idea of something of "quality of being of ordinary occurrence" not noted until the 1590s.  The adjective uncommon assumed a similar development, in the 1540s meaning "not possessed in common" and by the 1610s meaning "not commonly occurring, unusual; rare".

Last thoughts on a non-rule

The distinction between mutual (reciprocal; between two) and common (among three or more) probably once was, at least to some extent, observed by educated writers, Dr Johnson (1709-1984) in his A Dictionary of the English Language (1755) allowing but one definition: MUTUAL a. Reciprocal; each acting in return or correspondence to the other.

G K Chesterton.

That old curmudgeon G K Chesterton (1874-1936) was certainly convinced.  Writing about Charles Dickens (1812–1870) novel Our Mutual Friend (1864-1865), he claimed the title was the source of the phrase in general speech, snobbily noting of it was the “…old democratic and even uneducated Dickens who is writing here. The very title is illiterate. Any priggish pupil teacher could tell Dickens that there is no such phrase in English as 'our mutual friend'.  Anyone could tell Dickens that 'our mutual friend' means 'our reciprocal friend' and that 'our reciprocal friend' means nothing. If he had only had all the solemn advantages of academic learning (the absence of which in him was lamented by the Quarterly Review), he would have known better. He would have known that the correct phrase for a man known to two people is 'our common friend'."

The phrase in the English novel however pre-dated Dickens, Jane Austen (1775-1817) using it in both Emma (1816) and Persuasion (1818) and long before 1864, Mary Shelley (1797–1851), Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832), William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–1863), Herman Melville (1819–1891), James Fenimore Cooper (1789–1851) and Elizabeth Gaskell (1810–1865) all had “mutual friend” in their text.  Dickens, with the prominence afforded by the title and serialized in the press, doubtless popularized it and, as Chesterton well knew, literature anyway isn’t necessarily written in "common speech".  Whoever opened the floodgates, after 1864, mutual friends continued to flow, the writers George Orwell (1903-1950), Joseph Conrad (1857–1924), Jerome K Jerome (1859–1927), Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936), Mark Twain (1835-1910), Anthony Trollope (1815-1882), Henry James (1843–1916), Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894), Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930) and Church of England (broad faction) priest & historian Charles Kingsley (1819–1875) all content with "mutual friend" so those condemned by Chesterton are in good company.  The old snob probably did ponder if calling someone a “common friend” might create a misunderstanding but then, good with words, he’d probably avoid that by suggesting they were “rather common” or “a bit common" if that was what he wanted to convey, which not infrequently he often did.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

Fuselage

Fuselage pronounced fyoo-suh-lahzh, fyoo-suh-lij, fyoo-zuh-lahzh or fyoo-suh-lahzh)

(1) In aeronautical design, the complete central structure of an airplane, to which are attached the wings (or rotors), tail and other stabilizing fins or surfaces (engines sometimes also directly attached or enclosed).  It is inside the fuselage where the crew, passengers, cargo and most internals systems are located.

(2) In design, a style which borrows from or alludes to the elements used in aircraft fuselages.

(3) By extension, the main body of an aerospace vehicle

1909 (In English): From the French fuselage, the construct being fusel(é) (spindle-shaped), from fuseler (to shape like a spindle), from the Old French fus or fuseau (spindle), from the Latin fusus (spindle) + -age.  The French suffix -age was from the Middle & Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum, (greatly) extended from words like rivage and voyage.  It was used usually to form nouns with the sense of (1) "action or result of Xing" or (more rarely), "action related to X" or (2) "state of being (a or an) X".  A less common use was the formation of collective nouns.  Historically, there were many applications (family relationships, locations et al) but use has long tended to be restricted to the sense of "action of Xing".  Many older terms now have little to no connection with their most common modern uses, something particularly notable of those descended from actual Latin words (fromage, voyage et al).  In English, the suffix -age was from the Middle English -age, from the Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum.  Cognates include the French -age, the Italian -aggio, the Portuguese -agem, the Spanish -aje & Romanian -aj.  It was used to form nouns (1) with the sense of collection or appurtenance, (2) indicating a process, action, or a result, (3) of a state or relationship, (4) indicating a place, (5) indicating a charge, toll, or fee, (6) indicating a rate & (7) of a unit of measure.  Fuselage is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is fuselages.

Many languages also borrowed fuselage but there were sometimes variations in spelling including in Catalan (fuselatge), Portuguese (fuselagem), Spanish (fuselaje), Russian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)), Kazakh (füzeläj (фюзеляж)) and Ukrainian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)).  It’s not clear when “fuselage” was first used in English, the earliest known reference dating from 1909 but it’s not improbable the word had earlier been in oral use.  The alternative was presumably “hull” (the body or frame of shop, boat or other such vessel).  Hull was from the Middle English hul, hulle & holle (seed covering, hull of a ship), from the Old English hulu (seed covering), from the Proto-Germanic hul- (and related to the Dutch hul (hood) and the German Hülle & Hülse (cover, veil)), and may have been from either the primitive Indo-European forms ḱel- (to cover, hide) or kal- (hard).  Hull came into wide use in aircraft design when “flying boats” were developed.

Flying boats: Short S.25 Sunderland (1938-1946) (left) and Dornier Do X (1929-1932) (right). 

Most aeroplanes have fuselages; flying boats have hulls, a tribute to the nautical part of their hybrid origin.  Commercially, flying boats were widely used during the inter-war years because of their range and, needing only a suitable body of water (sea, lake, river), their ability to operate in regions without suitable aerodromes.  A vital military machine during World War II (1939-1945), the advances in aircraft design during that conflict, coupled with the proliferation of airstrip construction able to be re-purposed for civil use doomed them for all but some specialist uses.  Quickly they almost vanished from European and (most) North American skies and waterways, enduring in the Far East only until infrastructure there too was improved.

The fuselage can be optional: Dunne D.5 (1908) (left), Northrop YB-49 prototype (1947) (centre) and Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (1989) (right).

In the early days of aviation, before even an airplane had flown the English Channel, designers had been intrigued when their slide-rule calculations suggested the optimal shape of a flying machine was a "flying wing" with no conventional fuselage and certainly no tail-plane apparatus.  Tests of scale models in primitive wind tunnels proved the math was substantially correct and proof of concept tests using an unpowered glider proved inconclusive, it being clear only a powered flight would demonstrate if such a design could achieve stable flight.  When tested, the designer admitted an early, under-powered, version was "more a hopper than a flyer" but when fitted with more powerful engines, the "flying wings" proved remarkably stable.  However, more conventional designs proved more suitable for military use and that, increasingly was where the source of funding was to be found.  Despite that, the idea continued to fascinate designers and a flying wing was one of the extraordinary range of experimental aircraft under development in Nazi Germany during World War II, most of which never made any contribution to the Luftwaffe's war effort.  In the US, Northrop built both propeller and jet-powered prototypes in the 1940s and after early difficulties, a stable platform emerged although, like most designs, it both offered advantages and imposed restrictions but the whole project was cancelled; ever since some have argued this was due to political influence while others claim the flaws in the concept were so fundamental they couldn't be fixed.  The Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (in service with the US Air Force (USAF) until at least 2034) is a modified version of a flying wing in that its really a variation of a delta with an integrated fuselage.

Ascending the stairs: Lindsay Lohan entering a fuselage, Mykonos, Greece, August 2016.

In the early days of aviation during the twentieth century’s first decade, French engineers and inventors were the most innovative on the planet and this is reflected in the world-wide adoption of many French terms for some of the bits and pieces which continue to be used.  English, rarely inclined to create a new word if there was a manageable one in some other language which could be absorbed (“borrowed” still the term etymologists, strangely perhaps, prefer) and the French words which formed the basis of the early lexicon of aviation are a particular example of technological determinism in language.  Other orthodox terms in aviation include:

Aileron: A hinged flight-control surface usually attached to the trailing edge of each wing and used to change the roll (ie cause fuselage to begin rotation).  Although the word “flaps” is commonly used of ailerons, the flaps are usually positioned closer to the fuselage and are used to increase or reduce lift & drag.  The flap-like devices mounted on the trailing edges of the vertical stabilizers (somewhere in the tail-section) are properly called “elevators”.  Aileron was a diminutive of aile (wing) and before powered flight (flying machines) had been used in ornithology to refer to the extremities of a bird's wings used to control their flight.  There is an entry in a French-English dictionary dating from 1877 (with the lead meaning: “small wing”) and in the context of the language of aviation, the earliest known use in entry in French technical literature is from 1908.

Empennage: The tail assembly of an aircraft, including the horizontal and vertical stabilizers, elevators, and rudder. Empennage was from the French empenner (to feather an arrow).

Chassis: This was the original term used in English to describe the framework of an aircraft but soon was replaced by "frame, structure etc"), presumably because of the association with the heavy steel constructions used in cars and trucks, things far removed from the lightweight designs needed in the air.  Chassis was from the French chassis (frame, supporting structure), from châsse (reliquary; coffin), from the Latin capsa (case).

Concours d'Elegance: Not strictly an aviation term and most associated with affairs like those in Pebble Beach where rows of vintage Bentleys, Ferraris and such (the latter always in a much better state of finish than when they left the factory) are judged for their closeness to perfection.  Although not strictly a term from aviation, there are such events for old aircraft.  Concours d'Elegance was from the French concours d'élégance (competition of elegance).

Pilot: Pilot was from the Middle French pilot & pillot, from the Italian pilota & piloto, (pedotta, pedot & pedotto the older forms), the pil- element probably influenced by pileggiare (to sail, navigate), ultimately from the unattested Byzantine Greek *πηδώτης (pēdṓtēs) (helmsman), from the Ancient Greek πηδόν (pēdón) (blade of an oar, oar) (the the Ancient and Modern Greek πηδάλιον (pēdálion) (rudder).  Familiar from nautical use, pilot was a straight borrowing for the person fulfilling the same function in the air.  The construct of pilotage was pilot + -age.

Canard: A type of aircraft configuration where the tail-plane is ahead of the main lifting surfaces.  In aviation, a canard is either (1) a type of aircraft in which the primary horizontal control and stabilization surfaces are in front of the main wing or (2) a horizontal control and stabilization surface located in front of the main wing of an aircraft (a fore-plane).  In just about any form of engineering involving movement and fluid dynamics (air, plasma, water etc), a canard is a small, wing-like structure used usually as a stabilizing device.  Canard was from the French canard (duck, hoax) and in English as “a canard”, is still used in that sense to mean “a false or misleading report or story, especially if deliberately so”.

The Fuselage Chryslers, 1968-1973

1969 Imperial LeBaron, four-door hardtop.

The “fuselage” Chryslers were released late in 1968 for the 1969 model year and, as a class, remain the largest regular production cars ever made by the US industry.  In the catalogue between 1968-1973, by the end of their run the Imperial was built on a 127 inch (3226 mm) wheelbase, was 235 ½ (5981 mm) inches in length and almost 80 (2022 mm) inches in width.  Big cars from Detroit were not uncommon in the 1960s (Buick in 1959 even naming their top-of-the-range model the Electra 225, a tribute to its 225 inch (5715 mm) length) but even by those standards the fuselage cars not only were vast but the bulbous shape (source of the “fuselage” tag) made them appear more excessive still; it wasn’t only for the big Chryslers the derisive “land yacht” was coined but the line exemplified the idea.  In fairness, the trend generally was “longer, heavier & fatter”, even once compact (by US standards) and agile machines like Ford’s Mustang and Thunderbird bloating with each update although the manufacturers were aware there was considerable public demand for something smaller and by the late 1960s, those in the pipelines were well-advanced.  However, demand for the full-sized cars remained strong and Chrysler decided their lines should be more full-sized than ever, thus the fuselage design.  There was at the time a bit of an aeronautical influence about and that was nothing new, jet aircraft and space rockets during the previous two decades having contributed many of the motifs which appeared on US cars.  During the development cycle for the fuselage cars, Chrysler were well-acquainted with the appearance of the Boeing 747, sketches circulating for some three years before its first public appearance in September 1968, coincidently just days after the Chrysler’s debuted.  In its appearance, the bulging 747 was the same sort of departure from the earlier, slender 707 as the 1969 Chryslers were from their rectilinear predecessors.

1969 Chrysler 300 advertising.  In graphics & text, the "fuselage" motif was integral to the promotion; it was no mere nickname. 

In some ways the styling has aged surprisingly well because the basic lines are uncluttered and, particularly on the higher priced editions, there was some nice detailing but at the time, critics found the look peculiar and a deviance from the direction other manufacturers were travelling.  The sides were unusually deep and rounded (recalling, obviously, an airplane’s fuselage) with a beltline so high the glasshouse (the cabin area defined by the windows) was relatively shallow, something accentuated by the surrounding bulk.  The corporation’s full-sized platform (internally the “C-Body”), it was shared by the Plymouth, Dodge, Chrysler and Imperial lines, the latter a surprise to some because since 1955 when it had been established as a separate division, the Imperial had been built on a unique platform.  However, despite some encouraging results in the 1950s, Imperial never achieved the volume which would have justified another unique platform so the line was merged into mainstream development.

1969 Imperial LeBaron four-door Hardtop advertising.  The "messaging" in this advertisement remains obscure.

The debut season saw good sales for the fuselage cars (though still more than 10% down on the previous C-Body (1965-1968)) but demand dropped precipitously in the next three years although sales were in buoyant in 1973 when many manufacturers set records; it was the last good year for the “old” American economy and the swansong of the long post-war boom built on cheap, limitless energy and the uniquely advantageous position the country enjoyed after the war; something squandered by the mistakes of more than one administration.  It was certainly unfortunate timing for Chrysler that the first oil crisis should hit just weeks after they had replaced the fuselage cars with something mechanically similar but with clever styling tricks (even the engineers admitted it was “nips & tucks; smoke & mirrors”), something dimensionally similar appeared both smaller and more modern.  Underneath, as the fuselage line had been, was essentially a good product, Chrysler’s basic engineering always good and while the big machines would never behave like a Lotus Elan, on the road they were competent and in most aspects as good as or better than the competition.

The last of Harry S Truman's (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) many cars was a 1972 Chrysler Newport, the entry-level model in Chrysler's Fuselage range (some Plymouth & Dodge models were cheaper still).  Purchased some six months before his death, the licence plate (5745) was a special request, a reference to 7 May, 1945 (VE Day (Victory in Europe).  Truman was in office on that day and the plate has since permanently been retired.

The first oil shock hit demand for the 1974 cars and the timing was bad for all points in the production and distribution chain.  The 1974 Chryslers genuinely were improved and, noting the favourable reviews, dealers had ordered large stocks to meet the expected demand but the ripples from the OAPEC (Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries) oil embargo meant sales of big cars collapsed and the Chryslers, with V8 engines between 318-440 cubic inches (5.2-7.2 litres) were as thirsty as any of their ilk; stocks of cars expected to be sold in days languished on dealer’s lots for months.  In response, Chrysler shut down two manufacturing plants while trying to increase production or imports of smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles.  Sales of the big cars in 1974 were barely half those of the previous year and the breakdown of those was a harbinger for the whole industry, the numbers disproportionately slanted towards the higher-priced lines, the entry-level models attracting interest mostly from fleet operators and law enforcement.  The days of the low-cost big sedans which appealed to those like Harry Truman (a confessed Freemason) who liked the virtues without the ostentation, were over and their survival for a few years was guaranteed only because their virtues suited fleet buyers like police forces, rental car operators and the military.

When buying a Newport, one got more metal for the money that any other of the big Chryslers offered but one President Truman never would have considered was the Newport Sportsgrain.  For over a decade station wagons fitted with a combination of fibreglass spars emulating structural timbers and 3M's DI-NOC imitation wood panelling had been popular and, impressed by the solid sales numbers for these things which recalled the old “woody” station wagons (which, until the early 1950s had used real wood) Mercury decided those buying two-door hardtops and convertibles deserved the same choice.  Thus for the 1968 season, “Yacht Deck Paneling” appeared in the catalogues as an option on the top-of-the-line Park Lane.  Clearly not wishing to be thought deceptive, Mercury not only didn’t disguise the synthetic origins of the “simulated walnut-tone” appliqué, its advertising copy made a virtue of being faux, pointing out: “This paneling is tougher, longer-lasting than real wood… and every bit as beautiful” before concluding “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea”.

1969 Chrysler Newport with “Sportsgrain” option.  This was the era when the big cars came to be called “land yachts” so references to “yacht decks” and such were not inappropriate.  Inefficient in so many ways, in their natural environment (“floating” effortlessly down the freeways, passengers and driver isolated within from the rest of the world), they excelled and there’s since been nothing quite like them.

That sales pitch must have convinced Chrysler “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea” because it responded to what Mercury were doing by slipping onto the market the mid-season offering of the “Sportsgrain Newport”, available as a two-door hardtop or convertible, both with the simulated timber used on the corporation’s station wagons.  A US$126 option, it was a deliberate attempt to evoke spirit of the high-priced Town and Country convertibles of the late 1940s but, because the T&C moniker had already been appropriated for the wagons, someone in marketing had to come with “sportsgrain” which now must seem mystifying to anyone unaware the first element of the portmanteau word was a nod to the convertibles of the early post-war years.  Other than the large slab of vinyl, the “Sportsgrain” cars were standard Newports (then the cheapest of the Chrysler-branded models).  While demand for appliqué-adorned station wagons remained strong, Chrysler in 1968 had no more success than Mercury in shifting hardtops & convertibles with the stuff glued on, only 965 of the former and 175 of the later being ordered which, nationwide, was not even one per dealer.  Remarkably, the option returned for 1969 with the new “fuselage” body styling, possibly because the corporation, anticipating higher demand, had a warehouse full of 3M’s vinyl but, being simply glued on, maintaining the option would not have been an expensive exercise.  Sales however must have been low, the survivors of the 1969 range rare and Chrysler have never disclosed the final season's production totals.

1978 Chrysler New Yorker advertising.  Still obviously bulky, the 1974-1978 re-style toned down the fuselage look although the interiors in tufted leather or velor became increasingly baroque.  Publications like Road & Track (R&T) where the writers disapproved of anything so big (they thought everyone should drive a Lancia) sneered at the extravagant fit-out, dismissing it as "gingerbread" but it was a luxurious and isolating environment.  There were still many who liked that sort of thing, none of whom maintained subscriptions to R&T.

So the writing was on the wall and even by 1977 when the oil crisis faded from memory and it seemed buyers were ready again to buy big, Chrysler was left with its now 1974 range while press and public fawned over General Motors’ (GM) newly slimmed-down, taut looking, full-size cars, the style and dimensions of which were so obviously the future.  Tellingly, while radically reduced in weight and external measurements, on the inside, they were in most places as capacious as both their predecessors and the now antique Chryslers which were still just an update of the 1969 fuselage range.  With the coming of 1976, the corporation had accepted the inevitable and axed the Imperial brand, Chrysler's top-of-the-range New Yorker tarted-up with left-over Imperial trim to become the new flagship.  The end was close and in 1978 it came, that the last year of the big Chryslers released with such high expectations a decade before and when the line was retired, it took with it the once popular four-door hardtop body-style, other manufacturers having already retired their models.  Shockingly inefficient though they are, the few surviving land yachts have a small but devoted following who appreciate what remains a unique driving experience (one as enjoyable as a passenger) and it's unlikely anything like them will ever be built again.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).

The most unexpected fuselage Chrysler was something of a coda to the earlier 300 letter series (1955-1966).  Although “surprise” is a common tactic in marketing, what was strange about the release of the Chrysler 300-Hurst (introduced in February 1970 at the Chicago Auto Show) was it being a surprise to the dealers parking it in their showrooms.  Improbable as it sounds for a product released in the citadel of modern capitalism, the accepted orthodoxy is the management at Chrysler and Hurst both believed the other corporation would be handing the promotion so consequently, none was ever done.  Given the market dynamics of the time, it’s debatable whether advertising would much have stimulated demand for such a machine and as things worked out, only some 500 were built, the model never replaced.  In the era, there was little consistency in how the thing was discussed with publications variously using “300H”, “300 Hurst” and “Hurst 300” but the preferred use now seems to be “300-H” to distinguish it from the original 300H of 1962.  Based on the Chrysler 300 built on the corporate C-Body (with the so called “fuselage” coachwork introduced for the 1969 season) conceptually, the 300-H was very much in the letter-series tradition and featured the combination of a more powerful version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 (rated at 375 (gross) horsepower in a dual-exhaust configuration), the TorqueFlite (727) automatic transmission and the opulent leather interior from the Imperial line.  Although often listed as a footnote, the 300-H isn't considered part of the letter-series lineage.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).  The leather trim and power-adjustable seats came from the Imperial line.

All were finished in Spinnaker White with Satin Tan color accents, and Medium Brown pin-striping, the H70–15 Goodyear Polyglas tyres mounted on 15 x 6-inch wheels in Saturn Iridescent paint.  Although the high (numerically low; the final-drive ratio a conservative 3.23) gearing was indicative of a machine was built for high-speed cruising on the freeways rather than ¼ mile runs along a drag-strip, there were a few visual clues borrowed from muscle car genre, each 300-H equipped with a fibreglass hood (bonnet) which included the then-fashionable “power bulge” in the centre and a rear-mounted fresh air intake although unlike the muscle cars, this fed cold air not to the engine but the passenger compartment.  The trunk (boot) lid (“rear-deck” in US terminology) was also a fibreglass piece which included an integrated spoiler (then referred to usually as an “airfoil”).  The fibreglass mouldings were fabricated by two different companies and although the hoods were well-engineered, the rear decks lacked the internal stiffening required by a panel of such size and they proved over time prone to deformation, the warping most severe if the sitting for any length of time in high-temperature.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).

By 1970, the 300-H must have seemed anachronistic because the market for high-performance variants of full-sized cars had evaporated as buyer preferences switched to the smaller intermediates and pony cars, by then available with the biggest, most powerful power-plants in Detroit’s inventory.  General Motors (GM) had withdrawn from the segment and although Ford listed the option of a four-speed manual gearbox for big XLs with 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre), none were ever built while the 1969 Mercury Marauder X-100 (essentially a cosmetic package) was automatic-only and lasted only a single season.  Chrysler’s Plymouth division still offered the triple-carburetor 440 (rated in 1970 at a healthy 390 HP) in the big Sport Fury but only with an automatic and sales were low.  It’s worth remembering the original Chrysler 300 “letter cars” of 1955-1956 were essentially the same size as the intermediates of the mid 1960s which became so popular and were the platform which defined the “muscle car” during its brief and crazy vogue; the size was “right” in a US context and what the full-sized lines had grown to was not.  As the fuselage Chryslers came to exemplify, the huge, full-sizers would prove ideal as “land yachts” a breed particular to the 1970s in which occupants, isolated from the outside as never before (and rarely since) “floated” down the freeways, consuming fossil fuels and expelling pollutants in volumes which now would astonish most and appal Greta Thunberg (b 2003).

Hurst built one 300-H convertible, used as a promotional vehicle for their famous shifters, often accompanied by Ms Linda Vaughn (b 1943) who stood on a platform mounted atop the rear desk, between giant models of shifters.  Ms Vaughn was for more than two decades a welcome adornment to drag-strips, noted usually for noise and brutishness.

In 1970, Chrysler 300s tagged for conversion to 300-H specification came down the assembly line in the Jefferson Avenue plant in Detroit before being freighted to Hurst’s facility in Warminster, Pennsylvania to undergo a process which differed from the original plan: instead of deeper oil pans, upgraded ignition systems and the Hurst shifters which had made the company’s name, the cars received mostly cosmetic enhancements although the suspension was stiffened.  About the only difference in configuration was some used a column-shift for the transmission and some a floor-shit with a console, the later combination used with bucket seats.  Despite the 7.2 litre V8, the gearing and bulk conspired against muscle-car like acceleration although the ET (elapsed time) of 15.5 seconds for the standing quarter mile (400 m) was impressive, all things considered.  However, with a MSRP (manufacturer's suggested retail price) of US$5,939 (without any options) it was the corporation’s most expensive offering (except for the Imperial line) and this, combined with the absence of promotion and the anyway declining interest in the segment meant there wasn’t a second batch beyond the original 500-odd (the total quoted variously between 485-501), many of which lingered on dealers’ lots.  According to internal documents, the initial projections had anticipated sales of 2000.

A Hurst Jaws of Life used between 1977-2012 by the fire department in Carlsbad, New Mexico, now on display at the National Museum of American History.

The 300-H was the biggest of a number of cars to bear the Hurst name although internationally George Hurst’s (1927-1986; founder of his eponymous company), greatest legacy to the world was the “Jaws of Life”, a hydraulic cutter he first developed in 1961 after being shocked at how long it sometimes took to extract the driver from the crumpled wreck of a race car.  The great advantage of the “Jaws of Life” was that it worked like a very powerful pair of scissors, avoiding the showers of sparks produced by mechanical saws, always a risk to use in areas where fuel is likely to have been spilled.  The basic design came to be used in hydraulic rescue devices worldwide and quite how many lives have been saved by virtue of it use isn’t known but it would be a big number.

Ms Linda Vaughn on the move.

It’s said one 300-H was dealer-fitted with the fabled 426 cubic inch (7.0) Street Hemi V8 but like many such tales from the era, the veracity of that is uncertain and most find the tale improbable.  Chrysler certainly never considered using either the Hemi or the triple-carburetor (3 x 2 bbl) version of the 440 because, given the market segment at which the thing was aimed, air-conditioning (AC) was thought likely to me an often chosen option and the factory never offered the option with either the Hemi or the most powerful 440, the systems of the era not suited to the high-revving units.  It’s thus an orthodoxy in the collector that “no cars with the 426 Hemi or 440 6 bbl were fitted with AC by the factory” and while that’s true of Chrysler’s factories, it not the case for every factory because Jensen in the UK offered AC in their Interceptor SP (Six-Pack) which used the six-barrel 440 and the boutique Swiss manufacturer Monteverdi did include AC in the single mid-engined Hai fitted with a Hemi.