Pillow

Pillow (pronounced pil-oh)

(1) A bag or case made of cloth that is filled with feathers, down, or other soft material, and is used to cushion the head during sleep or rest.

(2) Any similar construction used to cushion the head; a type of headrest.

(3) In lace-making, a hard cushion or pad that supports the pattern and threads in the making of bobbin lace (also called lace pillow).

(4) In ship-building, a supporting piece or part, as the block on which the inner end of a bowsprit (a spar projecting over the prow of a sailing vessel to provide the means of adding sail surface) rests.

(5) In geology, as “pillow lava”, the rock type resembling the shape of a typical pillow, formed when lava emerges from an underwater volcanic vent or a lava flow enters the ocean.

(6) In engineering, as “pillow block”, a piece of wood or metal, forming a support to equalize pressure (historically known also a “brass”, an allusion to the alloy once commonly used for such purposes.

(7) In engineering, the socket of a pivot.

(8) A kind of plain, coarse fustian (a coarse fabric made originally from cotton and flax and now a coarse fabric of twilled cotton or a cotton & linen mix).

(9) With and without modifiers (love pillows; dirty pillows etc) and usually in the plural, yet another slang term for the human female's breasts.

(10) To rest on a pillow.

(11) To support with pillows.

(12) To serve as a pillow for some purpose.

1450s: From the Middle English pillow & pilow, (a head-rest used by a person reclining, especially a soft, elastic cushion filled with down, feathers etc), from the earlier pilwe, from the Old English pylwe, pylu & pyle (cushion, bed-cushion, pillow), from West Germanic noun pulwi & pulwin (source also of the Old Saxon puli, the Middle Dutch polu, the Dutch peluw, the Old High German pfuliwi and the German Pfühl), from the Proto-West Germanic pulwī (pillow), borrowed (possibly as early as the second century) from the Latin pulvinus (a little cushion, small pillow) of uncertain origin but some etymologists have speculated the construct may have been the Latin pulvis (dust, powder) +‎ -īnus (-ine) (in the sense of the filler of a pillow).  The suffix -īnus (-ine) was from the Proto-Italic -īnos, from the primitive Indo-European –iHnos and was cognate with the Ancient Greek -ινος (-inos) and the Proto-Germanic -īnaz.  In use it was added to a noun base (especially a proper noun) to form an adjective conveying the sense “of or pertaining to” and could indicate a relationship of position, possession, or origin.  The modern English spelling dates from the 1450s.  Pillow & pillowing are nouns & verbs, pillowed is a verb & adjectice and pillowless, pillowy, pillowlike & pillowesque are adjectives; the noun plural is pillows.

Pillowslips (left) in the typical combination of (1) a pair in a matching set with sheets & (2) a pair in a set matching the duvet cover and a quartet of pillowshams (right).  

Use of the pillowcase (washable enclosure drawn over a pillow and known also as a “pillowslip”) probably long predates the first known use of the term in 1745 but the emergence in the 1860s of the “pillowsham” is likely indicative of the tastes of the rising middle-class.  The pillowsham can be thought of as the archetypal middle class accessory and while structurally similar to a pillow case, in the jargon of interior decorators they are distinct.  A pillowcase (or pillowslip) is a basic and close-fitting cover which encases a pillow to protect it and provide a comfortable surface for sleeping.  Typically, pillowcases are made from soft, washable fabrics like cotton, linen, or microfiber and usually feature an open end with a flap; most are simple in design although there can be frills (though not fringes which are restricted to cushions) and the fabric tends to be either a solid color or matching the rest of the bed linen (ie as part of a set).  A pillowsham is a decorative cover for a pillow, often used on beds to add style rather than for everyday sleeping and some shams placed over pillows for decorative effect are removed or placed at the back when someone is sleeping.  Pillowshams are much associated with intricate designs (embroidery, ruffles, textured fabric and worse) and usually have an opening at the back, often closed with buttons, a zipper, or an overlapping flap to hide the closure.  Sham (intended to deceive; false; act of fakery) is thought probably to have been a dialectal form of shame (reproach incurred or suffered; dishonour; ignominy; derision) from the Middle English schame, from the Old English sċamu, from Proto-Germanic skamō.  Thus, while interior decorators may have no shame, they certainly have shams.

Pillowsham is the generic term for these items (whether put over a pillow or cushion) and “cushionsham” is not part of the jargon; the terms pillowcase, pillowslip & pillowsham appear variously also as separate words and hyphenated.  The pillowsham is notorious for its use as a platform for kitsch and Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) mountain home (the Berghof in the Obersalzberg of the Bavarian Alps near Berchtesgaden, Bavaria) featured many, sent to him by his many female admirers.  He claimed not to approve of them but appreciated the gesture although they seem never to have appeared in photographs of the house’s principle rooms, banished it seems to places like the many surrounding buildings including the conservatory of Hans Wichenfeld (the chalet on which the Berghof based).

Hitler's study in the Berghof with only matched cushions (left) and the conservatory (centre & right) with some pillowshams (embroidered with swastikas and the initials A.H.).

In the US, Life magazine in October 1939 (a few weeks after the Nazis had invaded Poland) published a lush color feature focused on Hitler’s paintings and the Berghof, the piece a curious mix of what even then were called “human-interest stories”, political commentary and artistic & architectural criticism.  One heading :“Paintings by Adolf Hitler: The Statesman Longs to Be an Artist and Helps Design His Mountain Home” illustrates the flavor but this was a time before the most awful aspects of Nazi rule were understood and Life’s editors were well-aware a significant proportion of its readership were well disposed towards Hitler’s regime.  Still, there was some wry humor in the text, assessing the Berghof as possessing the qualities of a “…combination of modern and Bavarian chalet” styles, something “awkward but interesting” while the interiors, “…designed and decorated with Hitler’s active collaboration, are the comfortable kind of rooms a man likes, furnished in simple, semi-modern, sometimes dramatic style. The furnishings are in very good taste, fashioned of rich materials and fine woods by the best craftsmen in the Reich.”  Life seemed to be most taken with the main stairway leading up from the ground floor which was judged “a striking bit of modern architecture.”  Whether or not the editors were aware Hitler thought “modern architecture” suitable only for factories, warehouses and such isn’t clear.  They also had fun with what hung on the walls, noting: “Like other Nazi leaders, Hitler likes pictures of nudes and ruins” but anyway concluded that “in a more settled Germany, Adolf Hitler might have done quite well as an interior decorator.”  There was no comment on the Führer’s pillows and cushions.

Whatever Life’s views on him as potential interior decorator, decades later, his architect was prepared to note the dictator’s “beginner’s mistake” in the building’s design.  In Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences) and published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recalled:

“A huge picture window in the living room, famous for its size and the fact that it could be lowered, was Hitler s pride.  It offered a view of the Untersberg, Berchtesgaden, and Salzburg. However, Hitler had been inspired to situate his garage underneath this window; when the wind was unfavorable, a strong smell of gasoline penetrated into the living room.  All in all, this was a ground plan that would have been graded D by any professor at an institute of technology. On the other hand, these very clumsinesses gave the Berghof a strongly personal note. The place was still geared to the simple activities of a former weekend cottage, merely expanded to vast proportions.”

He commented also on the pillowshams: “The furniture was bogus old- German peasant style and gave the house a comfortable petit-bourgeois look.  A brass canary cage, a cactus, and a rubber plant intensified this impression.  There were swastikas on knickknacks and pillows embroidered by admiring women, combined with, say, a rising sun or a vow of "eternal loyalty."  Hitler commented to me with some embarrassment: "I know these are not beautiful things, but many of them are presents.  I shouldn't like to part with them."

Life’s assessment of Hitler’s alternative career path as an interior decorator wasn’t the first time the observation had been made of a head of state & government.  Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924; US president 1913-1921) had gone to the Paris Peace Conference (1919) determined above all to secure the agreement of all parties to the creation of the League of Nations (1920-1946) and this he pursued with a vigour not matched by other leaders present, all of who had a focus on the immediate needs of their own countries.  Wilson, knowing political pressure on him was rising in the US and whose health had long been fragile, found the negotiations exhausting and doctors in recent years have concluded he likely suffered several small strokes while in Paris, a prelude to the major event later in the year which substantially would incapacity him for the remainder of his presidency.

Wilson’s personal physician (Cary Grayson (1878–1938) had accompanied him to the conference and in his diary noted one manifestation of what he described as “the strain” when, after hours of “intense discussion” on matters ranging from tiresome US senators to the treaty terms sought by the delegation from Japan to the arraignment of the former Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941; German Emperor & King of Prussia 1888-1918), the president suddenly made an announcement.

“I don’t like the way the colors of this furniture fight each other. The greens and the reds are all mixed up here and there is no harmony.  Here is a big purple, high-backed covered chair, which is like the Purple Cow, strayed off to itself, and it is placed where the light shines on it too brightly.  If you will give me a lift, we will move this next to the wall where the light from the window will give it a subdued effect.  And here are two chairs, one green and the other red.  This will never do.  Let’s put the greens all together and the reds together.”  He went on to relate to his doctor how at the “Council of Four” (the leaders of France, Italy, the US & UK) meeting how “…each delegation walked like schoolchildren each day to its respective corner.  Now, with the furniture regrouped, he said each country would sit according to its color.”  Dr Grayson attributed the “aberrant behaviour” to “stress” and prescribed only going for a drive in an automobile, remarking to his patient: “I think if you ever want a job after leaving the presidency you would make a great success as an interior decorator.”  Wilson concurred, answering: “I don’t mean to throw bouquets at myself but I do think that I have made a success of the arrangement of the furniture.”

Woodrow Wilson’s bedroom in the Washington DC townhouse where he lived after leaving office.

Mrs Wilson fitted-out the bedroom on S Street, Kalorama almost to exactly replicate the one he’d used at the White House, down to the footrests, pillows and reading lights.  Mrs Wilson commissioned the bed to be exactly the imposing dimensions (8 feet, 6 inches x 6 feet, 6 inches (2590 x 1981 mm)) of the White House’s Lincoln Bed; built in Grand Rapids, Michigan in a colonial revival style, it's made of mahogany.  After his stroke in October, 1919, Wilson substantially was confined to his bed and it was in this bed he died on 3 February, 1924, aged 67.  He was buried at the Washington National Cathedral, the only US president whose body lies in the national capital.

The "furniture incident" is now assessed in the light of the knowledge of the president’s previous neurological issues and analysts since have compared the behaviour to that of the anorexic who takes control of their diet because it is one thing they are able completely and immediately to control, in contrast to other aspects of their life which they have come to believe they are unable to influence and neurologists who have written on the subject do seem to agree a stroke would likely have induced the episode.  In October 1919, shortly after returning to the US, Wilson suffered a major stroke, us stroke, leaving him paralyzed on his left side, and with only partial vision in the right eye.  Despite this, he continued in office until his term expired in 1921 though he was physically isolated and few were able to see him except his wife and doctor, a situation not greatly different from the situation in 1953 when Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) son-in-law for months acted as something of a prime-ministerial proxy in the aftermath of Churchill’s massive stroke.  The ad-hoc apparatus constructed by Mrs Wilson and Dr Grayson had led some claim she was, in effect, the nation’s “first female president” and while that’s drawing a long bow, it was something discussed in 2024 when Joe Biden’s (b 1942; US president 2021-2025) descent into senility was a topic of interest.  The roles played by of Dr Grayson, Lord Moran (Charles Wilson, 1882-1977, personal physician to prime minister Winston Churchill) and Ross McIntire (1889–1959; personal physician to Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945)) remain controversial and reflect the sometimes conflicting duality of responsibility a physician has (1) to their patient and (2) their patient’s position as head of government.

Lindsay Lohan themed pillows are available.

“Pillow dictionary” was a synonym of “sleeping dictionary” (a sexual partner who also serves as a native informant or language teacher for an outsider).  It was thus something of a euphemism for a tutor in a foreign language who, as is implied, gives “tuition in bed”; the term said (as might be expected) to be used more commonly used by men of women than vice versa.  Those who practice hypnopaedic techniques use a different kind of dictionary.  Hypnopedia (or hypnopædia) was a form of “sleep-learning (or sleep-teaching) and was an attempt to convey information to a sleeping person, typically by playing a sound recording to them while they sleep.  Because the role of sleep in memory consolidation had come to be understood, the hypothesis of hypnopedia was not unreasonable but it has been wholly discredited.

The “pillow fight” (a form of domestic mock-combat fought using pillows as weapons) is presumably a most ancient practice but the first known reference is from 1837.  Pillows being much associated with beds, in idiomatic use, the pillow naturally features in phrases associated with sex.  The slang “pillow talk” (relaxed, intimate conversation between a couple in bed) is doubtlessly more ancient still but the term may not have been used prior to 1939 and it now carries the implication of some indiscrete disclosure, often in the context of politics or espionage).  A “pillow word” was a calque of the Japanese 枕詞 (makurakotoba) and described the use in Waka (和歌) (Japanese poem) of a poetic device in which a certain introductory phrase is commonly used to allude to something else.

Jeremy Thorpe arriving at Minehead Magistrates Court, 4 December 1978, for the committal proceedings against him and three others on charges of conspiring to murder former male model Norman Scott.  Ultimately Mr Thorpe was acquitted of all charges.  The car is a Rover 3500S.  3500S was the original designation of the 3500s sold during the model's abortive foray into the US market but elsewhere was used to designate the version offered with a four-speed manual transmission (1971-1977), the original introduced in 1968 exclusively in automatic form.

A “pillow queen” was a woman concerned only with her own gratification during sex and interestingly, the equivalent creature among lesbians was apparently more often a “pillow princess”, both classified as “takers” rather than “givers”, the synonyms in the vernacular including “stone”, “rock”, “slate”, “cold fish”, “dead fish” and “starfish”.  The more evocative phrase “pillow-biter” seems first to have entered general use after it was used by Norman Scott (b 1940) when giving evidence in the 1979 trial of Jeremy Thorpe (1929–2014; leader of the UK Liberal Party 1967-1976), the witness describing the way he handled his unwilling participation as the alleged victim of Mr Thorpe committing upon him what in some jurisdictions used to be called “the abominable crime of buggery”: “I just bit the pillow, I tried not to scream because I was frightened of waking Mrs Thorpe.”  A pillow-biter is thus (in certain circles of the LGBTQQIAAOP communities) a “gay man who engages in passive anal sex”; a “bottom”, as opposed to Mr Thorpe who allegedly was a “top”.

Pillowbook describes a journal-type book kept to record sexual dreams and escapades, most intended only for the eyes of the writer.  It was a specific form of a quite commonplace book which appears to have originated in Japan as a compilation of notes & jottings, those periodic or occasional writings that might go into an extended diary.  The most famous example (and among the earliest extant) was the The Pillow Book (枕草子) (Makura no Sōshi) (Notes of the Pillow), a volume of observations and musings recorded by Sei Shōnagon (清少納言), circa 966–circa 1020, a lady of the court to Fujiwara no Teishi (藤原 定子) 977–1001 (known also as Sadako), an empress consort of the Japanese Emperor Ichijō (一条天皇) (Ichijō-tennō), 980–1011; 66^th emperor of Japan, 986-1011; the last entries in the book were made in the year 1002.  According to Japanese legend, the origin of the pillow book lies in a bundle of unused notebooks being brought to the empress who began musing on what should be done with them.  The lady-in-waiting suggested she should have them and make them into a pillow (which meant putting them into the drawers of “a wooden pillow” (a part of the Japanese sleeping apparatus).  Subsequently, she filled the notebooks with random facts, lists and discursive jottings and from this tradition came the traditional Japanese genre zuihitsu (随筆) (occasional writings) which exists still, describing a form of literature consisting of loosely connected personal essays and fragmentary ideas typically influenced by the author's surroundings and daily interactions with them.

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency brochure.

“Loose pillow” upholstery had been in furniture for a while, implemented usually as detachable cushions designed to be removed for cleaning but it was Oldsmobile which first used the concept for automobiles.  Since the mid 1960s “luxury” versions (as opposed to mere “deluxe” editions which often included just a bundle of options anyway available on a “standard” car at a discount compared with ordering them individually) had begun to appear and this would evolve into what came to be called “the great Brougham era”.  That term seems to have been invented by Curbside Classic, a curated website which is a gallimaufry of interesting content, built around the theme of once-familiar and often everyday vehicles which are now a rare sight until discovered by Curbside Classic’s contributors (who self-style as "curbivores"), parked next to some curb.  These are the often the machines neglected by automotive historians and collectors who prefer things which are fast, lovely and rare.  According to Curbside Classic, the “great brougham era” began in 1965 with the release of the LTD option for the mass-market Ford Galaxie and that approach was nothing new because even the Galaxie name had in 1959 been coined for a "luxury" version of the Fairlane 500, a trick the US industry had been using for some time.

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency brochure.  When the tufted, pillowed option was chosen in red velour, it was known casually as "mid-priced bordello chic".

Once, Detroit’s most elaborate interiors had been restricted to the top-of the range models (Cadillac, Lincoln & Imperial) but when Oldsmobile in introduced the “Regency” option for their Ninety-Eight range, it was quite a jump in middle-class opulence and it must have been galling for Cadillac: Oldsmobile, two notches down the GM pecking list from Cadillac had in one stroke out-done Cadillac’s interiors with not just tufted velour upholstery but the novelty also of the welcoming loose pillow style.  Cadillac had nothing like it but scrambled to respond, offering in 1973 the d'Elegance package, a US$750 option which included pillow-style velour seating as well as a more plush carpeting and bundled a few of the otherwise optional features.

1974 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman rear compartment in blue velour with optional pillows.  The pillows (which many would have described as "cushions") were also available on Talismans trimmed in leather.  The world should have more leather pillows but, unfortunately, while "Cadillac pillows" are available, they come only in fabric.  The so-called "holy grail" among Talisman collectors is a 1974 model in blue leather which was listed as a factory option but no such machine has ever been sighted and Cadillac's production records don't provide a color breakdown.  It's thought likely none were ever built.

However, all the d'Elegance bling did was match what others were doing and there was still the corporate memory of the Cadillac mystique, a hankering for the time when Cadillac had been the “standard of the world”, a reputation built in the 1930s on basic engineering such as almost unique sixteen cylinder engines and maintained a generation later with cars such as the Eldorado Brougham, times when the name stood for something truly impressive.  By 1974 the world had changed and such extravagances were no longer possible but what could still be done was to add more gingerbread and for 1974, Cadillac announced the Talisman package.  Much more expensive than the d'Elegance and consequently more exclusive, the Talisman included an extended centre console, the front section housing an illumined writing tablet, the rear a storage compartment.  This had been done before but never with this opulence although it had the effect of reducing the huge car, a size which historically been a six-seater, into something strictly for four.  The interior was available in four colors in "Medici" crushed velour at US$1800 or in two shades in leather at US$2450 at a time when the Chevrolet Vega, GM’s entry-level automobile of the era cost US$2087.  The Talisman additionally gained matching deep-pile interior carpeting and floor-mats, a fully padded elk grain vinyl roof, exterior badge identifications, a stand-up, full-color wreath and crest hood ornament and unique wheel-covers.  For those who needed more, for an additional US$85, a matching pillow and robe was available although the robe unfortunately wasn't cut in leather.  Optioned with the leather package, a 1974 Cadillac Talisman cost about US$13,200, matching what the company charged for the even bigger Fleetwood Seventy-Five limousines.  The additional gingerbread wasn’t all that expensive to produce; what Cadillac was selling was exclusivity and the market responded, 1898 Talismans coming off the production line that year, all sold at a most impressive profit.  Most prized today are the relative handful trimmed in leather, the urban legend being all were in medium saddle with none in the dark blue which was listed on the option list.  If any were sold with the blue leather, none appear now to exist and Cadillac’s records don’t record the breakdown.

1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut leather (though not actually “fine Corinthian leather” which was exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983)), Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure’s photograph: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”  The marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos.  Fashions change and the 1997 Buick Park Avenue (right) was the last of the "pillowed cars".

The loose pillow style certainly caught on although the name was a little misleading because the pillows were loose only in the sense of moving a little to accommodate the frames sitting on them and were not removable.  In the showroom they looked good and attracted many buyers but were noted also for the propensity to trap crumbs, small coins and the other detritus of life in the many folds, tufts and crevasses.  The fad lasted for more than a generation and Detroit’s last fling of the pillow was the 1997 Buick Park Avenue.

Bubbletop

Bubbletop (pronounced buhb-uhl-top)

(1) In aircraft design, a design of pilot’s canopy (originally military slang for what designers dubbed the “bubble canopy”, a Perspex molding which afforded exceptional outward visibility).

(2) An automobile using a transparent structure over the passenger compartment, replacing the usual combination of roof & windows.

(3) A descriptor of certain automobiles of the early 1960s, based on the shape rather than the method of construction, the conventional metal and glass used.

1940s: The construct was bubble +‎ top.  Bubble dates from the late fourteenth century and was from the Middle English noun bobel which may have been from the Middle Dutch bubbel & bobbel and/or the Low German bubbel (bubble) and Middle Low German verb bubbele, all thought to be of echoic origin.  The related forms include the Swedish bubbla (bubble), the Danish boble (bubble) and the Dutch bobble.  Top pre-dates 1000 and was from the Middle English top, toppe & tope (top, highest part; summit; crest; tassel, tuft; (spinning) top, ball; a tuft or ball at the highest point of anything), and the Old English top & toppa (top, summit, tuft of hair), from the Proto-West Germanic topp, from the Proto-Germanic tuppaz (braid, pigtail, end), of unknown origin.  It was cognate with the Old Norse toppr (top), the Scots tap (top), the North Frisian top, tap & tup (top), the Saterland Frisian Top (top), the West Frisian top (top), the Dutch top (top, summit, peak), the Low German Topp (top), the German Zopf (braid, pigtail, plait, top), the Swedish topp (top, peak, summit, tip) and the Icelandic toppur (top).  Alternative forms are common; bubble-top in automotive & aeronautical engineering and bubble top in fashion.  Bubbletop is a noun and bubbletopped is an adjective; the noun plural is bubbletops.

Evolution of the Mustang's bubbletop: P-51C (top), P-51 III (centre) and P-51D (bottom).

“Bubbletop” began as World War II (1939-1945) era military slang for officially was described as the “bubble canopy”, the transparent structure sitting atop the cockpit of fighter aircraft, the advantages being (1) superior visibility (the purest interpretation of the design affording an unobstructed, 360° field-of-view, (2) improved aerodynamics, (3) easier cockpit ingress & egress (of some significance to pilots force to parachute and (4), weight reduction (in some cases).  Bubbletops had been seen on drawing boards in the early days of aviation and some were built during World War I (1914-1918) but it was the advent of Perspex and the development of industrial techniques suitable for the creation of large, variably-curved moldings which made mass-production practical.  The best known early implementations were those added to existing air-frames including the Supermarine Spitfire, Republic P-47 Thunderbolt and North American P-51 Mustang.  By 1943, the concept had become the default choice for fighter aircraft and the technology was applied also to similar apparatuses used elsewhere on the fuselage where they were styled usually as “blisters”.  In the post war years it extended to other types, most dramatically in the Bell 47 helicopter where the cabin was almost spherical, some 70% of the structure clear Perspex.

The enormous and rapid advances in wartime aeronautics profoundly influenced designers in many fields and nowhere was that more obvious than in the cars which began to appear in the US during the 1950s.  Elements drawn variously from aeronautics and ballistics did appear in the first generation of genuinely new post-war models (most of what was offered between 1945-1948 being barely revised versions of the 1942 lines) but it was in the next decade the designers were able to embrace the jet-age (a phrase which before it referred to the mass-market jet-airline travel made possible by the Boeing 707 (which entered commercial service in 1958) was an allusion to military aircraft, machines which during the Cold War were a frequent sight in popular culture).  On motif the designers couldn’t resist was the bubble canopy, something which never caught on in mass-production although Perspex roofed cars were briefly offered before word of their unsuitability for use in direct sunlight became legion.

GM Firebird XP-21 (Firebird I, 1953).

Not content with borrowing the odd element from aircraft, the General Motors (GM) team decided the best way to test which concepts were adaptable from sky to road was to “put wheels on a jet aircraft” and although they didn’t do that literally, by 1953 when Firebird XP-21 was first displayed, it certainly looked as though it was exactly that.  Its other novelty was it was powered by a gas turbine engine, the first time a major manufacturer in the US had built such a thing although a number of inventors had produced their own one-offs.  When the XP-21 (re-named Firebird I for the show circuit) made its debut, some in the press referred to it as a “prototype” but GM never envisaged it as the basis for a production car, being impractical for any purpose other than component-testing; it should thus be thought of as a “test-bed”.  The bubble canopy looked as if it could have come from a US Air Force (UFAF) fighter jet and would have contributed to the aerodynamically efficiency, the 370 hp (280 kW), fibreglass-bodied Firebird I said to be capable of achieving 200 mph (320 km/h) although it’s believed this number came from slide-rule calculations and was never tested.  Despite that, in its day the Firebird II made quite a splash and a depiction of it sits atop the trophy (named after the car’s designer, Harley Earl (1893–1969), the long time head of GM’s styling studio) presented each year to the winner of NASCAR’s (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) premiere event, the Daytona 500.

GM Firebird II (1956).

Compared with its predecessor, the Firebird II (1956), rendered this time in titanium was almost restrained, the Perspex canopy a multi-part structure over a passenger compartment designed to seat “a family of four”.  The family might have chosen to drive mostly in darkness because the heat build-up under the midday sun would have tested the “individually-controlled air conditioning”, a system upon which comfort depended because the Perspex sections were fixed; there were no opening “windows”.  Still, even if hot, the family would have got places fast because the same 200 mph capability was claimed.

GM Firebird III (1958).

The Firebird III was displayed at the 1958 Motorama and although GM never built any car quite like it, within a season, elements of it did begin to appear on regular production models in showrooms (notably the rear skegs which Cadillac used for a couple of years) and some of its features are today standard equipment in even quite modest vehicles.  The striking “double bubbletop” never made the assembly lines although some race cars have at least partially implemented the concept.  What proved more of a harbinger was the specification, the Firebird III fitted with anti-lock brakes, cruise control, air conditioning, an automated “accident avoidance system” and instead of a steering wheel, the driver controlled the thing with a joystick, installed in a centrally-mounted “Unicontrol & Instrument Panel”.  All these were analogue-era electro-mechanical devices too bulky, fragile or expensive for mass production, wider adoption in the decades to come made possible by integrated circuits (IC) and micro-processors.

1959 Cadillac Cyclone (XP-74).

Borrowing from the Firebird II, Cadillac also used a bubble top for the Cyclone (XP-74) concept car which in 1959 toured the show circuit.  Although it was powered by the corporation’s standard 390 cubic inch (6.5 litre) V8, there was some adventurous engineering including a rear-mounted automatic transaxle and independent rear suspension (using swing axles, something not as bad as it sounds given the grip of tyres at the time) but few dwelt long on such things, their attention grabbed by features such as the bubble top (this time silver coated for UV (ultra violet) protection) which opened automatically in conjunction with the electrically operated sliding doors.  The Perspex bubble canopies from fighter aircraft never caught on for road or race cars but so aerodynamically efficient was the shape it found several niches.

1953 Ferrari F166MM Spider by Vignale (left) and 1968 MGCGT (centre & right).

Bubbles often appeared atop the hood (bonnet) to provide clearance for components inconveniently tall.  Most were centrally located (there was the occasional symmetrical pair) but the when BMH (British Motor Holdings, the old  BMC (British Motor Corporation) shoehorned their big, heavy straight-six into the MGB (1963-1980), it wouldn’t fit under the bonnet, the problem not the cylinder head but the tall radiator so the usual solution of a “bonnet bulge” was used.  However, for that to clear the forward carburetor, the bulge would have been absurdly high so a small bubble (and usually, ones this size are referred to as "blisters") was added.  It probably annoyed some there wasn’t a matching (fake) one on the other side but it’s part of the MGC’s charm, a quality which for years most found elusive although it’s now more appreciated.  For MGC owners wish to shed some weight or for MGB owners who like the look, the “bonnet with bubble” is now available in fibreglass.

The winning Ford GT40 Mark IV (J-Car) with bubble to the right, Le Mans 1967 (left) and the after-market (for replicas) “Gurney Bubble” (right).

US racing driver Dan Gurney (1931–2018) stood 6' 4" (1.9 m) tall which could be accommodated in most sports cars and certainly on Formula One but when he came to drive the Ford GT40 Mark IV it was found he simply didn’t fit when wearing his crash helmet.  The original GT40 (1964) gained its name from the height being 40 inches (1016 mm) but Mark IV (the “J-Car”, 1966) was lower still at 39.4 inches (1,000 mm).  Gurney was the tallest ever to drive the GT40 and the solution sounds brutish but fix was effected elegantly, a “bubble added to the roof to clear the helmet.  Gurney and AJ Foyt (b 1935) drove the GT40 to victory in the 1967 Le Mans 24-hour endurance classic and the protrusion clearly didn’t compromise straight-line speed, the pair clocked at 213 mph (343 km’h), on the famous 3.6-mile Mulsanne Straight (which was a uninterrupted 3.6 miles (5.8 km) until the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the FIA; the International Automobile Federation and world sport’s dopiest regulatory body) imposed two “chicanes”),  Known ever since as the “Gurney Bubble”, such is the appeal that they’re now available for any GT40 replica: Like the AC Shelby Cobra, the GT40 “reproduction” industry is active and there are many times more of these than there are survivors of 105 originals.

Ferrari 250 GT “Tour de France” LWB Berlinettas by Zagato: The “double bubble” roof (left), the Hofmeister kink (centre) and the famous “Z” kink, (right).

The Italian coachbuilding house Zagato was founded in 1919 by Ugo Zagato (1890-1968) and since the early post-war years, their designs have sometimes been polarizing (the phrase “acquired taste” sometimes seen), their angularity often contrasted with the lines of other, notably Pinninfarina and Bertone but unlike many which have over the years folded, Zagato remains active still.  One Zagato design never criticized was his run in 1956 of five Ferrari 250 GT “Tour de France” LWB Berlinettas, memorable also for introducing the signature “Zagato double-bubble roof.  The roof was practical in that it better accommodated taller occupants but it really was a visual trick and a variation on the trick Mercedes-Benz used on the “Pagoda” (W113; 230, 250 & 280 SL; 1963-1971) which they explained by saying “We didn’t lower the roof, we rained the windows”.  The other famous feature (which appeared on only one) was the fetching “Z” shape on the rear pillar, replacing the “Hofmeister kink” used on some others.

1962 Chevrolet Impala “bubbletop” Sport Coupe (left), 1963 Ford Consul Capri (centre) and 1972 BMW 3.0CS (E9, right).

The 1959 Chevrolet quickly came to be nicknamed “bubbletop” and the style spread, both within GM and beyond.  The “bubbletop” reference was to the canopy on aircraft like the P-51D Mustang but was an allusion to the shape, not the materials used; on cars things were done in traditional glass and metal.  Across the Atlantic, Ford in the UK applied the idea to their Consul Capri (1961-1964), a two-door hardtop which the company wanted to be thought of as a “co-respondent's” car (ie the sort of rakish design which would appeal to the sort of chap who slept with other men’s wives, later to be named as “co-respondent” in divorce proceedings).  The Capri was a marketplace failure and the styling was at the time much criticized but it’s now valued as a period piece.  Chevrolet abandoned the look on the full-size cars after 1963 but it was revived for the second series Corvair (1965-1969).  A fine implementation was achieved in the roofline of the BMW E9 (1968-1975) which remains the company’s finest hour.

The bubble shirt and bubble tops.

The bubble skirt (worn by Lindsay Lohan (centre)) is one of those garments which seems never to quite die, although there are many who wish it would.  Once (or for an unfortunate generation, twice) every fashion cycle (typically 10-12 years), the industry does one of its "pushes" and bubble skirts show up in the high street, encouraged sometimes by the odd catwalk appearance; it will happen again.  While the dreaded bubble skirt is easily identifiable, the “bubble top” is less defined but there seem to be two variations: (1) a top with a “bubble skirt-like” appendage gathering unhappily just above the hips (left) and (2) a kind of “boob tube” which, instead of being tightly fitted is topped with an additional layer of material, loosely gathered.  The advantages of the latter (which may be thought of as a “boob bubble”) are it can (1) without any additional devices create the illusion of a fuller bust and (2) allow a strapless bra to be worn, something visually difficult with most boob tubes because the underwear’s outline is obvious under the tight material.

Coterminous

Coterminous (pronounced koh-tur-muh-nuhs)

(1) In geography, having the same border or covering the same area; bordering; contiguous; having matching boundaries; or, adjoining and sharing a boundary.

(2) Being the same in extent; coextensive in range, scope, time etc.

(3) Of objects or abstractions, meeting end to end or at the ends.

(4) By extension, anything having the same scope, range of meaning, or extent in time. 

(5) In the law of real property, linked or related property leases which expire together.

1790–1800: A re-formation of the earlier conterminous, from the Latin conterminus, the construct being con- (with) + terminus (border, end).  The con- prefix was from the Middle English con-, from the Latin con-, from the preposition cum (with), from the Old Latin com, from the Proto-Italic kom, from the primitive Indo- European ḱóm (next to, at, with, along).  It was cognate with the Proto-Germanic ga- (co-), the Proto-Slavic sъ(n) (with) and the Proto-Germanic hansō.  It was used with certain words to add a notion similar to those conveyed by with, together, or joint or with certain words to intensify their meaning.  Terminus was from the primitive Indo-European térmn̥ (boundary) of uncertain origin but perhaps from terh- (pass through).  It was cognate with the Ancient Greek τέρμα (térma) (a goal) and τέρμων (térmōn) (a border) and although contested, some etymologists suggest a relationship with the Sanskrit तरति (tar-) (to overcome), the Classical Latin trāns (through, across, over) and even possibly intrō (I enter, I go into).  Most dictionaries insist that despite having been in use since the 1630s, the hyphenated co-terminous is a malformation but, coterminous being a rare word, it’s not often disputes arise.  Purists who prefer always to stick to the classics reject both as needless formations and prefer the original Latin: conterminous.  Coterminous, coterminated & coterminal are adjectives, conterminousness is a noun, coterminal is a noun & adjective, coterminate & coterminating are verbs and coterminously & coterminally are adverbs; the noun plural is coterminals.

417 & 419 Venice Way, Venice Beach, Los Angeles, California where, during 2011, Lindsay Lohan lived (in 419 (right)).  This style of construction is sometimes called a “pigeon pair” but these two are only "semi-mirrored" because there are detail differences in the architecture.  Next door (417) lived Ms Lohan's former special friend Samantha Ronson.  Each four bedroom (3½ bathrooms) house included a floating stairway leading to a mezzanine which the property’s agent described as “ideal for a studio or office”.

In the law of real property, the term "coterminous" is used of a lease (or leases) which cover two properties with separate titles where the lease (or leases) expire simultaneously.  Whether the properties are geographically coterminous (or have any contiguous boundaries) is not relevant, indeed the two (or more) can be separated by great distances, the conterminousness of the relationship a product of the active lease(s), not the physical geography.  The land on which stands 417 & 419 Venice Way could be titled as a single entity and thus the two houses would sit on the one coterminous space or (as is more common), the land can have two separate titles and the two would sit contiguously.  At law, a coterminous lease of the houses could accommodate either arrangement and either 417 or 419 could also be part of a coterminous lease with one or more properties in another part of the state.        

The advantage of being original

The constitutions of some nations were written in the blood shed in war, revolutions or long struggles between sovereign and subjects so their foundation documents, their basic law, often contain stirring words, preambles especially sometimes even with literary merit.  The Constitution of Australia is not one of those documents.  While there were arguments during the eight-odd years it took for the six self-governing British colonies to agree on a draft, the matters in dispute mostly were procedural and mercantile rather than the rights of man and the pursuit of happiness.  Things were hammered-out in committees and smoke-filled rooms (the phrase then used literally), there were no mobs taking to the street or storming a parliament; apparently not even an effigy was burned.  The document which emerged has proved durable and adaptable but not a great read, befitting a nation which gained its independence (if originally incomplete until 1986) not through battle but bureaucracy.  The draft reached London in 1900 and was soon passed by the imperial parliament as the Constitution of Australia Act which effectively created the country, its executive, legislature and judiciary, empowering a parliament to meet.  Thus assembled, the Parliament of Australia passed the Constitution of Australia Act, becoming effective on 1 January 1901, the first day of the new century.

So Australia was born not on streets running with rivers of blood but by a grant of freedom from a colonial oppressor which had learned the lessons of 1776.  The constitution passed has since been little modified (a process technically simple but politically challenging) has accommodated some changes better to suit a place where things do change.  It tends to be forgotten that, even in 1901, anything like what’s now thought to be genuine democracy was rare anywhere and, where it existed to the extent it did, it was a recent and sometimes fragile thing.  The Australian constitution did however create a framework for one structural aspect of democracy now thought fundamental: the equality of the value of the individual citizen’s vote although, on that framework hung an imperfect skin and it wouldn't be for decades that something close to "one vote-one value" was achieved. 

That didn't however apply to the Australian Senate (the upper house) and that was one of the prices to pay for nationhood; the smaller states would never have agreed to federate had they not been afforded equality of representation in what they seemed genuinely to believe would be the place where their interests would be protected.  That illusion didn’t long last but the distortions, now actually worse, remain.  Regarding the lower house, Chapter I, Part III, Section 24 of the constitution provides (1) it shall have twice the number of members of the upper house and (2) the number of members in each of the six states shall be in proportion to the state’s population.  That, even today, is about as equitable as is possible but a further clause provided that (3) none of the original states can have fewer than five members, regardless of the math imposed by (1) & (2).

By the early twenty-first century, that meant in New South Wales, there was one senator for every 680,000-odd souls whereas one represented every 45,000 Tasmanians, a impressive imbalance around 85:15; in the lower house it was a much more democratic 62:38.  Better still, if ever Tasmanians feel somehow unrepresented, there’s also a state parliament with an upper and lower house and a generous layer of local government.  These distortions do happen in other countries (notably the United States Senate) but among those with some claim to free and fair electoral systems, the Tasmanian example is probably extreme.  In Australia, it pays to be an original state.

Electoral divisions, Tasmania, Australia.

In the state parliament, a feature of Tasmania’s mysterious Hare-Clark electoral system for the House of Assembly (state lower house) is its five electoral divisions are coterminous with the five House of Representatives (Commonwealth lower house) divisions (Bass, Braddon, Clark, Franklin and Lyons).  Although it may sound a rare example of bureaucratic efficiency, it’s dictated more by the practicalities of the multi-member Hare-Clark system in which each seat returns the same number of MHAs (Member of the House of Assembly although the modern practice is for them to be styled “MP” (Member of Parliament)); the number of seats in the legislative assembly is thus always divisible by five.  The House of Assembly first sat in 1856 when the bicameral parliament was established with the proclamation of responsible government and the Hare-Clark system was the co-creation of Thomas Hare (1806-1891), an English lawyer with an interest in political reform & Andrew Inglis Clark (1848–1907), an engineer & lawyer who served as attorney-general in Tasmania between 1887-1892 & 1894-1897.  Hare's original design dated from 1856 and was one of many systems of proportional representation explored during the nineteenth century and it was modified by Clark, becoming law in 1896 and has been used state-wide since 1909.

Eric Abetz MP (Liberal Party, Franklin), official ministerial photograph, Office of the Cabinet, Tasmania, Australia.

When other systems were in use, the number of seats varied several times between 32-38 but, after the Commonwealth's divisional boundaries were co-opted, the number of seats for decades remained relatively stable: set at 35 in 1900, 30 in 1906, & 35 in 1959.  In a rare moment of rationality, this was in 1998 reduced to 25 but in an unfortunate "triumph of politics" moment, this was restored to 35 for the 2024 general election.  So, the place is back to having too many politicians but however unpleasing the surplus, it may be thought a small price to pay for the return of Eric Abetz (b 1958) to politics.  Upon his election to the House of Assembly in 2024, Mr Abetz was immediately elevated to cabinet as Minister for Business, Industry and Resources, Minister for Transport & Leader of the House.  Having previously served as a senator (Liberal Party) for Tasmania between 1994-2022, it’s a remarkable resuscitation of a political career which had seemed terminal.  Having Eric Abetz back to represent the views of the eighteenth century has been welcomed by all political junkies.