Absinthe or Absinth

Absinthe or Absinth (pronounced ab-sinth)

(1) A green, aromatic liqueur (alcohol content 45-74%), made with wormwood and other herbs; it has a bitter, liquorice flavour and has from time-to-time been banned in many Western countries.  Technically, because of the high wormwood content, it’s a gin.  The colloquial name was "green fairy".

(2) An alternative name for the herb Artemisia absinthium (grande wormwood); essence of wormwood which correctly should be spelled only absinth).

(3) Bitterness; sorrow (archaic except as a literary or poetic device).

(4) As colors, labeled on color charts as “absinthe green” or “absinthe yellow”, shades on a spectrum from dark to bright.  For commercial purposes , it's sometimes clipped to “absinthe” and the choice between the general descriptors “greenish-yellow” & “yellowish-green” depend on which hue is thought prevalent.

(5) A rare alternative name for the sagebrush (US).

1350-1470: From the French absinthe (essence of wormwood (short for extrait d'absinthe)), from the Latin absinthium (wormwood and a doublet of absinthium), from the Ancient Greek ἀψίνθιον (apsínthion) (wormwood) of uncertain origin although its speculated the source may be a Persian root (spand or aspand, or the variant esfand) which meant Peganum harmala, also called Syrian Rue which, while not actually a variety of rue, is another famously bitter herb.  The alternative etymology is that the genus was named after Queen Artemisia, the wife and sister of Mausolus, ruler of Caria 377–353.  When Mausolus died, he was buried in the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, and traces of the ruins can still be seen at Bodrum in modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye).  In the Hellenic myths, Ἄρτεμις (Artemis) was  goddess of the hunt, and protector of the forest and children; her equivalent in Roman mythology was Diana.  Absinthe & absinthism are nouns and absinthic is an adjective; the noun plural is absinthes.

Just add water: An absinthe drinker's table with paraphernalia.

The highly alcoholic, anise-flavored liquor originally made from grande wormwood, anise, and other herbs was first distilled in 1842, lending its name to the yellow-green color which became commercially available in the late 1800s.  The early spelling was absinth (which survived longer than absynthe and absenta) and although extinct in English use, absinth remains the spelling variant most commonly applied to varieties of the spirit produced in Central and Eastern Europe; specifically it's associated with Bohemian-style absinthes.  The wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) plant itself has long been figurative of "bitter" sorrow and was known in English as absinth in English from circa 1500; the earlier tradition, drawn from the Old English, used the word in the Latin form.  The drink first gained popularity in Europe after being consumed in some abundance by French soldiers in Algiers and North Africa appears to have been a place with a long fascination with similar drinks, historians noting an association with “magical properties” as far back as ancient Egypt.

Some bottles are sold bundled with a drip spoon and sometimes glasses.  No retailer seems to include sugar cubes.

Before being outlawed in many Western countries in the early twentieth century, it was known colloquially as the green fairy, a “green muse” who would visit to liberate the visions of poets and artists.  The health authorities fretted over the alleged hallucinogenic qualities and, after the usual moral panic, imposed a ban.  Historians of such things suspect the spirit probably didn't induce hallucinations to anywhere near the extent of the legends of the era suggest and that its reputation was probably gained from excessive consumption of mixes with unusually high concentrations of wormwood being sold, the regulation of the content of strong drink paying little attention to anything except the taxable component (alcohol).  However, absinthe (in a strictly regulated form) is again available in Australia and La Fee Absinthe NV Absinthe (700 ml) is available from Cool Wine at Aus$83.95.

Death in the afternoon

Death in the Afternoon, also called The Hemingway or Hemingway Champagne, is a mix of absinthe and Champagne, invented by Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) himself.  The concoction shares its name with a novel from what Zelda Fitzgerald (née Sayre; 1900–1948) called his “bullfighting, bull-slinging, & bullshit” period (Death in the Afternoon (1932)), the recipe published in a 1935 anthology of cocktails with contributions from noted authors. 

(1) Pour one jigger of absinthe into a Champagne glass.

(2) Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness.

(3) Drink three to five of these, slowly.

Traditional French Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Rest specially slotted absinthe spoon across top of the glass.

(3) Place a sugar cube atop absinthe spoon.

(4) Slowly drizzle ice-cold water over sugar cube so water is evenly displaced into absinthe until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(5) Stir gently and enjoy.

Bohemian Method

(1) Pour a shot (1oz/30ml) of absinthe into a tall, wide rimmed glass.

(2) Put lump of sugar on a spoon and dip it in the absinthe until cube is saturated.

(3) Hold spoon over glass and set the cube alight; it will bubble and caramelize.

(4) When flame has died down, stir sugar into absinthe.

(5) Add iced-water until drink is diluted to a ratio between 3:1 and 5:1.

(6) Stir gently and enjoy.

French purists disapprove of these Bohemian ways, claiming the caramelizing of the sugar impairs the true flavor of absinthe.

Ernest Hemingway wasn’t the only one fond of the green fairy.  Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) is claimed to have said “After the first glass of absinthe you see things as you wish they were. After the second you see them as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.”  He applied his empirical research into the spirit’s psychoactive and degenerative properties in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890-1891) in which the eponymous protagonist takes those staples of decadent Victorian hedonism, opium and absinthe, in seedy places among London's Docklands.

The French poet Paul Verlaine (1844–1896) infamously was fond of absinthe, his lust for the spirit shared with his lover and fellow poet Arthur Rimbaud (1854-1891), the pair having a drunken tiff during which Rimbaud was shot, sustaining a minor wound.  After that, Verlaine’s alcoholism worsened and he died in poverty, on his deathbed damning as “the green witch” which governments should ban.  Rimbaud may have been more open-minded, one of his works containing the line: “Wise pilgrims, let us reach / The Absinthe with its green pillars.”  Shortly after being shot, he renounced poetry, briefly serving in the military before deserting to take up a life in commerce.

Kidspattern's deconstruction of Absinthe Green (upper) and Absinthe Yellow (lower).  Curiously (to non-expert eyes), both are listed as a “green”, reflecting the mysterious chemistry used to produce results, the recipes sometimes seemingly counterintuitive.

When water has been added to a glass of absinthe, it’s said to have “been louched”.  Although more familiar as a noun meaning “a somewhat dubious or disreputable person or thing or an adjective used to impart a sense of (1) “questionable taste or morality; the decadent” (2) “neither reputable or decent” or (3) “one unconventional and slightly disreputable in an attractive manner; raffish, rakish” there’s was also the use as a transitive verb meaning “to make an alcoholic beverage cloudy by mixing it with water (due to the presence of anethole)”. Most associated with the louche crowd who drank the green fairy, among chemists and in the industry, louching was known as “the ouzo effect”.  Louche was from the French louche (cross-eyed (now archaic); cloudy; obscure (by extension) and (figuratively) shady; dubious; seedy; shifty), from the Old French lousche, from the Latin lusca, feminine of luscus (one-eyed) and existed in the Italian (of character) as losco and the Portuguese (of vision) as lusco.

Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker (1859)) by Édouard Manet (1832-1883).

The first major painting by the French painter Édouard Manet was Le Buveur d'absinthe, a study of an alcoholic rag-picker who frequented the area around the Louvre.  The work caused a stir in polite society because of its seedy realism and the concern at the time about the corrosive effects of absinthe among Parisian bohemians and although there’s nothing to prove Manet was even an occasional drinker of the stuff, he did among some gain the reputation on the basis of "guilt by association".  Very few in the art establishment liked the painting and even Manet would later admit the earliest version of the work contained technical flaws but it was the content which so offended and there was something of the "shock of the new" in that it was one of the first depictions of Absinth drinking in representational art.  Manet submitted Le Buveur d'absinthe for inclusion in the Paris Salon in 1859 and almost unanimously the selection committee voted "non".  The establishment may not have wanted moral  degeneracy hanging in their galleries but the avant garde wanted little else and Manet's painting was among the first admitted to the Salon des Refusés (literally "exhibition of rejects") in 1863.  

A Le Buveur d'absinthe (The Absinthe Drinker) (1901) by Pablo Picasso (1881-1973).

A Le Buveur d'absinthe would be also be painted by Pablo Picasso, competed in the autumn of 1901, just as his “blue period” was beginning.  Although nowhere near as monochromatic as later blue period works such as Femme aux Bras Croisés (Woman with Folded Arms (1901-1902)) or La Vie (Life (1903)), the work is an early example of the themes associated with this phase, melancholy, alienation & desolation.  The blue period began after Picasso became depressed over the suicide of a close friend and for some years he would explore aspects of human misery.  For someone who looks this unhappy absinthe might be a good choice but it didn't suit everyone.  The French symbolist writer Alfred Jarry (1873-1907) was renowned for his particularly erratic and eccentric behavior and often indulged in while drinking in Paris’s absinthe cafes; it’s said, with his face painted green, he once rode his bicycle through a village to celebrate the joy of the spirit.  He died of consumption, the severity of his condition aggravated by drug and alcohol use.

Absente Absinthe Refined.

Vincent Van Gogh (1853–1890) was known to drink absinthe, not anything unusual at the time and while he suffered from what would now be called “mental health issues” (then it was simply “went mad”), what part the drink played in his breakdown isn’t known although in letters to friends, he did note the effect it had on his work.  The mere connection however was enough for Crillon Importers to collaborate with Absente to produce the Van Gogh themed packaging for Absente Absinthe Refined when in 1999 it was the first brand to offer the green fairy in the US since the ban was imposed in 1912.  Absente made much of its spirit being “authentic” by which they meant it was distilled from wormwood and therefore contained thujone, the fabled and allegedly psychoactive substance naturally present in the herb and the reason for the original ban although cautiously, when permitting sales in 1999, the ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives) limited the thujone content to 10 milligrams per litre.

Lindsay Lohan in absinthe green, Pure Leaf Green Tea promotion, 2024.

Once one of France’s most famous poets and essayists, Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) was probably no more fond of absinthe than any other strong drink but certainly didn’t avoid the green fairy, even writing the poem Enivrez-vous (Get drunk, first published in 1864) in which it's mentioned.  For years he drank heavily and used a variety of opioids before suffering a massive stroke in 1866, lingering in a semi-paralysis for almost a year before dropping dead.  In fashion, the term “absinthe green” was used opportunistically and was never exactly defined beyond it being associated usually with a vibrant hue.  The use began during the era in which the drink was in many places outlawed so attraction was it conveyed some sense of “edginess”.  Because the imagery of the “green fairy” and its alleged consequences became part of Western folklore, often it’s forgotten there was also “absinthe blanche” (Suisse absinthe, known also as “absinthe bleue”), which was colorless and in its time much sought for the high alcohol content.  Absinthe blanche was the product extracted before the final maceration process with a blend of herbs which lent the fluid its green hue and more complex taste.

Death in the evening.

Lindy Chamberlain (holding Azaria) and her sons Reagan (b 1976) & Aidan (b 1973), Stuart Highway, Northern Territory, Australia.  The 1977 Holden LX Torana SL Hatchback was finished in in Absinth Yellow (GMH code 1886 (Dulon code 15949 / Berger code 1D008)) over Slate Black Vinyl & Cloth trim (18X) and was fitted with the 4.2 litre (253 cubic inch) V8 (L32) & four-speed manual transmission (M20).  The photograph was taken opposite the Erldunda Roadhouse (gas (petrol) stations and the distance between them are of great importance in the Northern Territory) at the Lasseter Highway turn-off from the Stuart Highway.  Some 200 km (125 miles) from the desolate and depressing township of Alice Springs, from there it's a further 245 km (150 miles) to the Ayers Rock Resort which is the tourist hub for Uluru.  In the happy days before speed limits were in 2007 imposed (by a female chief minister for whom any desire to drive faster than 80 km/h (50 mph) must have been beyond comprehension), in the right car, it was an entertaining drive but with an absurdly low maximum of 130 km/h (80 mph) now set, flying is recommended.  

1:18 scale model of Holden HJ Monaro GTS Coupe in Absinth Yellow by Classic Carlectables (part number 18719).

As well as the Torana, Holden made Absinth Yellow available on other “sporty” models, notably the Monaro GTS, then available with two and four-door forms.  Introduced in 1974, the HJ range (1974-1976) featured a rather heavy-handed restyling which was disappointing after the elegance achieved by the HQ (1971-1974) but it reflected a desire to make the car appear bigger and “less feminine” (an intangible quality but one recognized by designers).  The frontal styling was a direct borrowing from the first generation Chevrolet Monte Carlo (1970-1972).

The Absinth Yellow LX Torana was made infamous because of the part it played in the 1982 conviction of Lindy Chamberlain (b 1948) for the murder in August 1980 of her nine-week old daughter Azaria.  The family had been camping close to Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia’s Northern Territory and, on the fateful evening, in an agitated state, Lindy Chamberlain claimed Azaria had been “taken by a dingo” (a kind of wild dog).  It was a remarkable case in which the prosecution succeeded in convincing the jury a mother had murdered her child despite there being no body, no murder weapon and no apparent motive.  The car was of great significance because of flawed evidence from a forensic scientist who claimed certain material found in the interior was the infant’s blood and it was only a subsequent analysis which confirmed the “blood spatter” was not foetal haemoglobin (something present in those under six months old) but overspray from the bitumen-based sound deadening paint then used by the manufacturer, spilled milkshake and copper dust.

The Absinth Yellow “Azaria Torana”, now on display at the National Museum of Australia in Canberra.

Convicted of being an accessory after the fact, Lindy’s husband, preacher Michael Chamberlain (1944–2017), was handed a suspended sentence but his wife received the mandatory life term and was imprisoned for more than three years, appeals as far as the HCA (High Court Of Australia) not overturning the verdicts, despite a dissent in the HCA hearing handed down by the only judge on the bench trained in science (Justice Lionel Murphy (1922–1986) who held a B.Sc (Hons) in organic chemistry) who found the Crown's scientific evidence flawed.  She was released only when the baby’s bloodied matinee jacket was found near a dingo’s den, prompting an inquest into the matter.  They were finally exonerated by the findings of a 1987 royal commission but the case remains of interest because it raised examples of flaws and inconstancies in matter of evidence and the administration of criminal law.  There was also much analysis of the media’s coverage, especially as it related to Lindy Chamberlain who was deemed by many commentators not to be “playing the part” expected of a distraught and grieving mother.  Not always with subtleness, aspersions were cast on the “religious fundamentalism” of the Seventh-day Adventist couple and, implications made, among the public, inferences were drawn with one event of note reported by the press.  When the murder verdict was announced on a television playing in a Darwin pub, there were shouts of “The dingo didn't do it!” and much cheering.

Knob

Knob (pronounced nob)

(1) A projecting part, usually rounded, forming the handle of a door, drawer window-frame or the like.

(2) A (usually) ball-shaped part of a handle, lever etc, designed to be grasped by the hand.

(3) In machinery, an almost always rounded control switch that can be rotated on it axis (ie to turn on/off, raise/lower volume etc), designed to be operated by the fingers and visually also emulated in software on screens.

(4) A rounded lump or protuberance on the surface or at the end of something, as a knot on a tree trunk or a fleshy lump or caruncle.

(5) A rounded ornament on the hilt of an edged weapon (the pommel).

(6) In architecture, furniture design etc, an ornamental boss, as of carved work.

(7) In geography, a rounded hill, mountain, a knoll, an elevation on a ridge or morainic ridge.

(8) In botany, a bulb of the garlic plant consisting of multiple cloves in a chunky branch,

(9) In certain military and other institutions, a new recruit.

(10) In hunting & animal husbandry (as knobber), a hart in its second year; a young male deer.

(11) In cooking, a dollop, an amount just larger than a spoonful (used usually in reference to butter and in professional catering there are “butter curlers” which produce an attractive ribbed-curl of butter to be served with the bread-rolls, each curl said to be the equivalent of a “half dollop”.

(12) In slang, the head, thus a person with red hair being a “gainer knob”.

(13) In vulgar slang the head (glans (spongiosum)) of the penis but sometimes used of the whole organ, thus the slang “knobhead” (an unintelligent or contemptible person) and a “literal” synonym of “dickhead”), sometimes used in the forms “knobber” & “knobber”.

(14) In vulgar slang (by extension), to have sexual intercourse with (someone).

(15) In vulgar slang (usually in the plural), a woman's breasts (sometimes with a modifier thought appropriate to the anatomy specifically being referenced).

(16) In vulgar slang, the clitoris.

(17) To produce a knob on (an object).

(18) To furnish with a knob, typically for a functional purpose (adding one to a door, window frame etc) but also as an ornament.

(19) To turn an object into a knob (rare).

(20) In stone cutting, to knock off (excess stone) preparatory to dressing; to knobble; to skiffle.

1350–1400: From the Middle English knobe & knobbe, thought almost certainly from a Scandinavian or German source and probably at least influenced by the Middle Low German knubbe & knobbe (knob; knot in wood; bud), the Middle Dutch knobbe & cnoppe, the Dutch knop (knob, button, bud), the Old Frisian knopp & knapp, the Old High German knopf (bud, pommel of a sword, knot, loop), the Middle High German knospe, the German Knopf (button, knob) & Knospe (bud), the Danish knap (button) & knop (knob, button, bud) and the Old Norse knyfill (short horn).  Most etymologists seem most convinced by it being a variant of the Proto-Germanic knappô (knob, lump) & knuppô (lump, clod), both among the “kn-” words related to knudaną (to knead).  Probably related were the Middle English knap & knappe (small projection, knob (in the sense of “button, tassel, tuft etc”), hill, hilltop etc)), from the Old English cnæp & cnæpp (summit, top), which may in some way be linked with the Old Norse knappr (small projection, knob (in the sense of “button, head of a stick etc”)) (and from which English gained knop), the source again the Proto-Germanic knappô.  The meaning “knoll, isolated round hill” seems first to have appeared in the 1640s and, perhaps surprisingly, no instance of “doorknob” has been found prior to 1829 although the word may have been long in oral use (drawer-knob, window-knob etc all followed).  Knob is a noun & verb, knobless is a noun, knobbed & knobbing are verbs, knoblike & knobby are adjectives; the noun plural is knobs.

Yorkeys Knob, Cairns, Queensland, Australia.

In idiomatic use, the phrase “same to you with knobs (sometimes “brass knobs”) means “the same to you but even more so” (used typically in response to an insult or slight).  A “knob-twiddler” can be an informal term for a technician or console operator whose job entails adjusting electronic devices via knobs but it can also describe anyone whose role seems either unimportant or not particularly demanding.  As machinery and later electronics became an increasingly ubiquitous part of life, so did knobs and as early as the late nineteenth century the humorous “knobologist” had been coined to describe both those designing the system and the “knob-twiddlers” using them; the discipline of design was of course dubbed “knobology” and that remains a core component of ergonomics, exploring imperatives such as placement, size, tactility and labelling, all of which influence the functionality of controls on an instrument as relevant to their application.  The knobologists deeply were implicated in convenient physical switches, knobs and buttons disappearing from cars and re-imagined virtualizations on inconvenient touch-screens.  Such has been the reaction (including the realization the change made driving more accident prone) that the tactile controls are making a welcome comeback.  The now archaic “knob-thatcher” was an affectionate term for a maker of wigs while the more modern “surfer's knob” was slang from the sport, describing a hard bump or nodule on a surfer's knee, shin or ankle, resulting from recurrent contact with their surfboard.  In engineering and metallurgy, “to knobble” was (1) to render a surface with a knobbly finish and (2) to produce wrought iron by treating semi-refined puddled iron on a hearth before shingling, a specialized device in the business being the ominous sounding “knobbling furnace”.

Gay men supporting lesbians at the first “Dyke March”, Washington DC, April 1993.  The sign held by the protester at the far left uses the compound word for which the euphemisms “knob polisher” & “knob-gobbler” were coined.

Because knob was popular slang for penis, a number of derived terms predictably emerged.  A “knob polisher” or “knob-gobbler” was “one who gives fellatio”.  “Knob rot” was a reference to certain sexually transmitted diseases contracted by men, the acute condition “galloping knob rot” describing a rapidly progressing or uncontrollable variant of the condition.  A “knob job” was the act of fellatio.  “Knob cheese” (the terms “cock cheese”, “dick cheese” and (in context) even “cheese”) was vulgar slang for smegma (a whitish sebaceous secretion that collects between the glans penis and foreskin or in the vulva).  “Knob jockey” must however be used with care because it has variously been applied to (1) gay men, (2) promiscuous straight women and (3) promiscuous straight men; context thus matters.

Interior of Porsche 917K with cool (in both senses of the word) balsa-wood shift knob.  The obviously "fake" passenger bucket seat was installed to comply with the rules in sports car racing.

To this day, the myth persists the balsa-wood gear-shift knob used in the Porsche 917 was there as a “weight-saving measure”.  While it’s true the small knob was light, the difference between it and the aluminum or magnesium units the company had fitted to earlier race cars would have been so insignificant it’s doubtful it would have equalled a gulp of coffee the driver may or may not have enjoyed.  The stylish timber piece was however not a decorative flourish but a legitimate engineering solution to ameliorate one manifestation of “chronic heat soak”.  In 1969, the 917 was a radical advance which, Dreadnought-like, rendered all other cars in its class instantly obsolescent but the flat-12 engine (Porsche’s first in the configuration) radiated so much heat it was difficult to manage.  In a tradition it would not for decades abandon, Porsche continued to use air-cooling for the engine (which really means “oil cooled” about as much) and it ran hot; between that heat source and the gear level was a unbroken metal path, each component a most efficient conductor.  During endurance racing (some events conducted over 24 hours), cockpit temperatures could reach what doctors would rate as “extreme”.  The metal lever was just one of the sources of this heat and the knob (which sat next to the driver’s knee) needed to be grasped by the driver, often many times a minute; were it to become so hot it caused pain, it would have been safety issue.  Although in 1969 the space-age was at its zenith, the materials which could have made a driver’s gloves close to heat-proof were not then commercially available so they gained much of their protective quality from thickness but the problem was they could be only so thick because a driver needed still to handle a highly-geared steering wheel and operate the many knobs and switches within arm’s reach.  Balsa-wood, with its very low thermal conductivity was ideal because while not exactly cool to the touch after a few hours on the track, it never got so hot it felt unpleasant.  It also had adequate strength for its task; a gear-lever knob does not bear structural loads and, being Porsche, it received the same careful attention as every other component, each one precisely machined to exact dimensions before receiving two coats of clear lacquer.  Most variants of the 917 used the Balsa-wood part although when (as the “Turbo-panzers”) the most powerful of the breed appeared in the Can-Am (for Group 7, unlimited displacement sports cars) a metal knob was fitted, made possible because Group 7 was for open cars and significantly that reduced cabin temperatures.  By the late 1970s when the space age had made available materials (phenolic plastics, composites etc) with superior insulation qualities, the need to resort to a balsa-wood knob vanished but the visual appeal remained and in the aftermarket, 917-style knobs remain widely available.

1959 Ford Fairlane Galaxie 500 Sunliner with suicide knob (on steering wheel at 10 o'clock).

“Suicide knob” was the most popular name for the device attached to a vehicle’s steering wheel which facilitated easier “single arm steering”.  The idea dated from the days before the almost universal fitting of power-steering and the things became popular in the US in the US in the 1950s and 1960s as even low-priced cars became heavier; for some drivers, they were invaluable when manoeuvring at low speed, especially when reversing.  They were known also as the “necker knob”, “wheel spinner” and “granny knob” but the most correct term was “Brodie Knob”, the name in honor of Steve Brodie (1861–1901), an apparently rather raffish gentleman from New York City who, as a last resort in 1886 after losing everything gambling, staged a stunt in which he jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge (site of a good many suicides), the lure a sum of money he was bet although the details of that are murky.  Mr Brodie anyway survived to collect on the wager and, on the basis of the notoriety gained, began performing other dare-devil acts for even more money.  So the jump from the Brooklyn Bridge was a good career move although the consensus now is it was a cunning stunt (ie a scam), a weighted dummy the real diver with Mr Brodie entering the water from the safety of the shoreline.  In fairness, at least some of his subsequent dangerous stunts were verified by observation and he parlayed his fame into a successful career in business, becoming a noted philanthropist and dying a rich man.

The invention of the suicide knob generally is credited to Joel Thorp of Wisconsin but similar devices had for centuries been in use on land and water.  What Mr Thorpe described in the supporting documents for what was issued as US Patent 2,101,519 STEERING WHEEL SPINNER KNOB (Dec 7, 1937) was an “improvement” of the concept:

“The present invention relates generally to improvements in appliances for facilitating manipulation of the steering wheels of vehicles, and relates more specifically to improvements in the construction and operation of spinner knob attachments co-operable with the peripheral rims of steering wheels or the like in order to effect more convenient and rapid operation of such wheels under certain conditions of use.  Generally defined, an object of my present invention is to provide an improved steering wheel spinner knob which is simple in construction and highly efficient in use.”

A young lady wrapping practiced fingers around the timber shift knob in 1970 Maserati Indy (Tipo 116, 1969-1975).  In the era, it was fashionable in Italian exotica for the knob and steering wheel rim to match (ie in leather or wood).

Although widely used on tractors, heavy transport vehicles and such, it was in the 1950s as cars in the US became heavier the suicide knobs gained popularity and some of that was due to reasons Mr Thorp probably never envisaged.  One receptive market was males aged 17-25 (a crew infamous for many reasons) who found the combination of suicide knob and bench seat made an idea ecosystem, enabling one hand to be used steer the vehicle while the "free" arm could wrap around the girlfriend (or alternative) who affectionately was resting her head on the driver’s shoulder.  In this arrangement, a driver’s attention more easily could be divided between her and the road.  It was also males aged 17-25 who were the core of the hot-rod community which began as a West Coast phenomenon (induced by a critical mass of the right demographic, available disposable income and a good supply of cheap, used cars which easily could be modified as desired) and they found suicide knobs the best way to “do a half donut” (a spin of one’s hot rod through 180^o), the trick being to grip the knob and then suddenly turn the wheel while applying full throttle, resulting in a loud, spectacular maneuver, made the more pleasing for the driver by him having “left his mark” in strips of runner on the road.  This, the hot rodders called “spinning a brodie”, a variant on the earlier “doing a Brodie” (a dangerous or otherwise inadvisable act) which entered the language after the nation-wide publicity which followed Mr Brodie’s alleged leap from the Brooklyn Bridge.  In the era, a Brodie Knob was as essential a piece of equipment as one’s packet of unfiltered Camel cigarettes or pair of fluffy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror.

1962 Maserati 3500 GTi.  Some Maserati 3500 GTs (Tipo 101, 1957-1964) had the unusual feature of having front and rear quarter-vents fitted to the same door; they were opened and closed using knurled, stainless steel knobs.

The dark appellation “suicide knob” was bestowed because (1) the devices came to be associated with accident-prone drivers (the “males aged 17-25” cohort prominent in the statistics) who probably did use the things to engage in “risk-taking” and (2) by virtue of their location (by default affixed to the upper quadrant) on the wheel, they were a genuine danger in accidents and, in an era of non-collapsible steering columns, tales of them penetrating the eye socket, causing irreparable loss of vision and traumatic brain injury, were legion.  The crusading US lawyer Ralph Nadar (b 1934) is criticized for much but the contribution his book Unsafe at Any Speed (1965) made to reducing the death toll on the roads cannot be under-estimated and the effect was world-wide because the rest the industry eventually followed the lead of the US legislation which came in the book’s wake.  In the US and elsewhere, change was of course resisted but it came and while it’s not possible to estimate how many deaths and often gruesome injuries the reforms prevented, no one denies it’s a big number.  The suicide knob was one minor casualty of the movement and in road-registered vehicles, in most jurisdictions (although some US states remain permissive), such devices are permitted only for specialized (often low-speed) vehicles and if used by drivers with some disability which precludes the use of conventional controls.

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.

Another to make a life-saving contribution to reducing the road told was George Hurst (1927-1986; founder of his eponymous company) whose great legacy to humanity 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 its use isn’t known but again, it would be a big number.

Two decades of progress: Shifter for the two-speed Powerglide automatic transmission in 1953 Chevrolet Corvette (left) and a classic spherical shift knob in 1972 Chevrolet Corvette LT1.  The delicate-looking shifter in the 1953 Corvette seems modest but the location was a world-first for an automatic and was efficient because the location (between the driver’s seat and transmission tunnel) provided the shortest possible path to the linkage.  As late as 1964, Chrysler used a similar apparatus in the 1964 300K.

However, before the Jaws of Life, Hurst was already famous in the vibrant sub-culture which was at the times also known for its propensity to purchase and install suicide knobs.  Hurst produced “shifters” which were the assemblies connected to a transmission, used by the driver to “change gears” and they proved instantly popular which may seem strange given every manufacturer at the time included a shifter with every vehicle.  However, beginning in the late 1930s, the US manufacturers had begun moving from centrally located, floor-mounted levers to units on the steering column because it made for better packaging efficiency in the cabins, then optimized for bench-seats with three-astride seating.  That move achieved the goal but with the linkage between lever and gear-changing mechanism now longer and making more turns, some precision in the shifting was lost and column shifting (the once almost universal “three on the tree”) was less conducive to an enthusiastic driving style (such as that of the “suicide knob equipped” crowd).  It was in the 1950s the taste for floor-shifts like those in European sports cars began to gain critical mass and even though the 1953 Chevrolet Corvette was hardly a sports car in the tradition of MGs, Fiats and such, it’s notable Chevrolet from the start installed a floor shift for the (two-speed!) Powerglide automatic transmission; it may not have been a sports car with a “four-on-the-floor” but it had a floor-shift so there was that.  Automatic transmissions in mass-produced cars was then something of a novelty barely a decade old and the Corvette’s floor shift was apparently a world-first.

A butter curler producing curls.  Generally, the curlers come in large and small, respectively producing a curl notionally equivalent to a dollop or a knob (half-dollop).  In the kitchen however, knobs and dollops are what the chef decides they are.

Four-speed manual transmissions began to appear in Detroit-made cars in the late 1950s and within half a decade George Hurst’s shifters were close to obligatory for any racer (authorized or not) seeking “street cred” and it wasn’t a confected image, the Hurst shifters demonstratively superior without being excessively expensive.  So stellar did their reputation become even GM (General Motors) relaxed their long-standing ban on other brand-names being associated with their products and made a feature of one being standard equipment of the 1964 Pontiac GTO, the car credited with being “the first muscle car” and such was the success in 1965 the shifter’s handle was even permitted to be embossed: HURST.  Soon, other manufacturers actively were seeking co-productions.  George Hurst’s path to market domination was shockingly simple and might have come from a textbook: (1) a perfected design, (2) skilful engineering in development, (3) high quality in production and (4) an attractive price, a combination of elements with great appeal for buyers and manufacturers alike.

Hurst’s dual-gate automatic transmission “His and Hers” shifter with conventional apparatus “for the automatic minded little lady” and a performance-oriented configuration offering manual control for the “man who really wanted a 4-speed standard stick but bought this extra just for her.”  Note the unfamiliar shift pattern, the now universal PRNDL not an industry standard until 1965, the year before it was demanded by regulations.  From the early days of automatic transmissions in the 1940s, reverse had been directly adjacent to Low, allowing drivers more easily to emulate what was done with manual transmissions when a “rocking” was being induced to try to free a vehicle from mud or snow.  It was a quirk of the age and, because reliability was not then what decades later came to be expected, the early transmissions included a second (rear) fluid pump to permit push/tow/hill starts.  Probably, not many much dwelt on the shape of the knob Hurst put atop the His and Hers” shifter but in geometry it would be described as an oblate spheroid with two parallel planar truncations.  Now easily modelled in software rendered with a 3D printer, perfecting a shape like this for production used to absorb much time on the drawing board and in the creation of prototypes.  A spheroid is an ellipsoid generated by rotating an ellipse about one of its principal axes which, if “stretched” along one axis becomes a prolate spheroid (ie elongated and something like a rugby ball).  If slightly flattened along the axis of rotation, it’s an oblate spheroid (like planet Earth which isn’t quite a pure sphere) but the His & Hers knob, having a slight elongation along the shifter’s axis, is closest to a prolate spheroid.  The planar-truncation (ie sliced by two parallel planes) created the (left & right) flat faces and the knob can thus be described as a “truncated ellipsoid” or “truncated prolate spheroid” but anyone wishing to out-nerd the rest would probably coin something like “biaxial ellipsoid with parallel planar truncations”.

It was early in the era of second-wave feminism (1960s-1980s) that George Hurst made his brief foray into marriage guidance counselling.  First-wave feminism (1895-1950s) is sometimes called the “de jure” or “structural” period because the focus was on legal issues such as women's suffrage, property rights and political candidacy but, in the West, an early victory was overcoming any opposition to women being granted driver’s licences.  Attitudes however evolved not wholly in parallel with legal rights and even today, among some, the view persists it’s men who are focused on performance and speed while women value vehicles using other criteria.  Impressionistically, that stereotype is not wholly without foundation but, since second wave feminism reset the rules, it’s no longer possible to run advertising perpetuating the notion.  The “His and Hers” shifter worked with a key-lock which enabled the husband to ensure only he could use the “manual override” feature and the idea in recent decades has been revived although this time the target of the lockout includes one’s (presumably male) children and any concierge or attendant who might be entrusted with parking one’s car.

Advertisement for Hurst's "custom knobs" (left) and the famous Hurst "pistol grip shifter" in 1970 Plymouth 'Cuda 440+6 (ie 3 x 2bbl carburetors) (right).

The magic of Hurst’s shifters was in the mechanism but, just as for computer users the mouse and keyboard assume great importance because it’s by touching these relatively simple pieces of hardware that use can be made of the machine’s more sophisticated internals, it was the shifter’s knob which was a driver’s most intimate connection with the transmission.  Although in the art deco era there had been some lovely detailing, it wasn’t until the 1960s most conceptually moved beyond beyond “variations on a theme of sphere” and Hurst was among the manufacturers to explore shapes and substances.  There were “T-Handles” (which, usually as "T-Bars", were for decades popular around the world for automatics) and “Horseshoes” which attracted admiring glances but didn’t catch on and any number of novelty items including billiard balls (the “8 ball” predictably a favourite of the V8 crowd) and scale models of this and that including human body parts such as the skull and mammary gland.  Knobs could be of plastic, wood or various metals and came in designer colors, velvet coatings a nice touch of the 1960s.  The most fetishized of the muscle car era however was Hurst’s “Pistol Grip Shifter” which did what it said on the tin: it gave the user the feeling of holding a handgun.  In the 1960s, gun culture in the US hadn’t yet become what it is today (as now defined, the first “mass-shooting” didn’t happen until 1966) but it was still a place with a lot of firearms.  However, despite the potential implications, when in 1970 Chrysler made one standard equipment on the 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda, one brochure made mention of the device only with the bland: “...a convenient pistol grip”.  For a corporation which called the Cuda’s hood scoop the I.Q.E.C.A.G. (Incredible Quivering Exposed Cold Air Grabber), it seemed a missed opportunity though it didn’t have much linguistic luck with I.Q.E.C.A.G., customers and everybody else deciding it was a “shaker”.

Ginger knob Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap, approaching 23 Egerton Terrace (tagged 7 for the film), Knightsbridge, SW3, London (the front door with a knob, left) and standing next to a door with a handle (right), from a photo-shoot by Rebecca Lader.

Architecturally, the choice between specifying door levers or door knobs is often one of mere preference or aesthetic conformity but for public or commercial buildings, some regulatory authorities now mandate the use of levers because typically they are easier to use for those with disabilities (especially if hand-mobility is limited) as they demand less dexterity.  Additionally, being circular and often highly polished, knobs can be hard to use with wet hands so that’s a consideration in kitchens, bathrooms and such; nor do young children find them as convenient as a handle.  So, all that would seem to make a compelling case for the handle but for domestic use, there’s one quirky consideration some may wish to include when making the choice.  While there are verified cases of cats and dogs learning to open doors using a handle, no pet has yet been observed mastering the turning of a door knob; while a rare problem, the chance of one’s cat or dog opening door using a lever is not zero and, because houses tend to use the same style of lever throughout, once they have learned to open one door, they’ve really learned to open all.  If it’s a concern, the good news is most doors are adaptable for either so replacing a lever with a knob does not usually require the door being replaced.