Scum

Scum (pronounced skuhm)

(1) A film or layer of foul or extraneous matter that forms on the surface of a liquid as a result of natural processes such as the greenish film of algae and similar vegetation on the surface of a stagnant pond

(2) A layer of impure matter that forms on the surface of a liquid as the result of boiling or fermentation

(3) A low, worthless, or evil person.

(4) Such persons collectively.

(5) An alternative name for scoria, the slag or dross that remains after the smelting of metal from an ore.

1200–1250: From the Middle English scume, derived from the Middle Dutch schūme (foam, froth) cognate with German schaum, ultimately of Germanic origin, drawn from the Old High German scūm and Old French escume.  In Old Norse word was skum, thought derived from the primitive root (s)keu (to cover, conceal).  By the early fourteen century, the word scummer (shallow ladle for removing scum) had emerged in Middle Dutch, a borrowing from the Proto-Germanic skuma, the sense deteriorated from "thin layer atop liquid" to "film of dirt," then just "dirt" and from this use is derived the modern skim.  The meaning "lowest class of humanity" is from the 1580s; the familiar phrase “scum of the earth” from 1712.  In modern use, the English is scum, French écume, Spanish escuma, Italian schiuma and Dutch schuim.  Scum is a noun & verb and scumlike & scummy are adjectives; the noun plural is scums.

Rendezvous: New Zealand-born cartoonist David Low's (1891-1963) famous take on the 1939 Ribbentrop-Molotov (Nazi-Soviet) Pact.  Although Low at the time couldn't have known it, comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) was sensitive to public opinion and when presented with the draft text of the pact, decided the rather flowery preamble extoling German-Soviet friendship was just too absurd, telling the visiting delegation that "...after years of pouring buckets of shit over each-other...", it'd be more convincing were the document to be as formal as possible.

 

The Society for Cutting Up Men: The S.C.U.M. Manifesto

S.C.U.M.  Manifesto (post shooting, 1968 Edition).

Although celebrated in popular culture as the summer of love, not everyone shared the hippie vibe in 1967.  The S.C.U.M. Manifesto was a radical feminist position paper by Valerie Solanas (1936-1988), self-published in 1967 with a commercial print-run a year later.  Although lacking robust theoretical underpinnings and criticized widely within the movement, it remains feminism’s purest and most uncompromising work, an enduring landmark in the history of anarchist publishing.  In the abstract, S.C.U.M. suggested little more than the parlous state of the word being the fault of men, it was the task of women to repair the damage and this could be undertaken only if men were exterminated from the planet.  The internal logic was perfect. 

The use of S.C.U.M. as an acronym for Society for Cutting Up Men existed in printed form from 1967 (though not in the manifesto’s text) although Solanas later denied the connection, adding that S.C.U.M. never existed as an organization and was just “…a literary device”.  The latter does appear true, S.C.U.M. never having a structure or membership, operating more as Solanas’ catchy marketing label for her views.  Calling it a literary device might seem pretentious but, given her world-view, descending to the mercantile would have felt grubby.  That said, when selling the original manifesto, women were charged US$1, men US$2.  While perhaps not as elegant an opening passage as a Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778) might have penned, Solanas’ words were certainly succinct.  "Life in this society being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of society being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and eliminate the male sex.”  Ominously, “If S.C.U.M. ever strikes” she added, “it will be in the dark with a six-inch blade.”  No ambiguity there, men would know what to expect.

On set, 1967, Andy Warhol (1928-1987) & Nico (1938-1988).

Author and work were still little-known outside anarchist circles when, on 3 June 1968, Solanas attempted to murder pop-artist Andy Warhol, firing three shots, one finding the target.  The year 1968 was in the US a time of violence and tumult but among it all the celebrity connection and the bizarre circumstances ensured this one crime would attract widespread coverage.  Valerie Solanas with her two guns had entered Andy Warhol’s sixth-floor office at 33 Union Square West convinced he was intent on stealing the manuscript of the play Up Your Ass she’d repeatedly tried to persuade him to produce.  Warhol and his staff had reviewed the work and decided it simply wasn’t very good (Warhol giving the the back-handed compliment of being "well-typed") but because he’d “misplaced” the typed manuscript (it was later discovered in a trunk) Solanas concluded that was just a trick and he was going to take what she thought of as her brilliant play, claiming it as her own.  Although she’d for some time hovered around the fringes of the Warhol “Factory”, she seems not to have had much success as an advocate.  Her S.C.U.M. Manifesto envisioned a world without men, calling on “civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females” to “overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and eliminate the male sex” which was heady stuff with a certain mid-1960s appeal but Warhol also declined her offer to become a member of the Scum’s “Men’s Auxiliary” (a group for men sufficiently sympathetic to Scum’s aim to begin “working diligently to eliminate themselves.”

New York Daily News, 4 June 1968.

Not best pleased by the headline, “Actress Shoots Andy Warhol”, Solanas demanded a retraction claiming that she was "a writer, not an actress."  The paper had based the headline on her appearance in Warhol's films I, a Man (1967) and Bike Boy (1967).  Warhol later admitted he'd cast her in I, a Man (for which she received a US$25 fee) in the hope she'd stop nagging him about the play she'd written.  She never complained about anything else the press wrote about her but apparently to be called an "actress" was beyond the pale.

Solanas’ state of mind about the fate of her intellectual property can be explained by it being no secret Warhol was inclined to use (the words “borrow”, “appropriate” “steal” also often used) and regards it all as “his art”.  For weeks leading up to the attempt on his life, repeatedly she’d called his office with first requests and then demands about her manuscript, culminating with threats at which point Warhol stopped taking her calls; the next call she made was in person and she shot him and an art gallery owner with who he was discussing an exhibition (he received minor injuries as (as collateral damage).  Warhol was declared dead although ambulance staff stabilized him.  Calmly, Solanas left the building and several hours later, approached a policeman in Times Square, handed over her two guns and told him: “He had too much control over my life.”  Unsurprisingly, a judge ordered a psychiatric evaluation and she received a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia but despite this, she was found competent to stand trial and pleaded guilty to “reckless assault with intent to harm”; sentenced to three years incarceration (including time served) in the Matteawan Hospital for the Criminally Insane (1892-1977). She was released late in 1971.  Solanas never renounced the S.C.U.M. manifesto nor lost faith in its capacity to change the world but her her mental health continued to decline and reports indicate she became increasingly paranoid and unstable. She spent her last years in a single-occupancy welfare hotel in San Francisco, where, alone, she died in 1988, the official cause of death listed as "pneumonia".  

  

Her fame lasted beyond fifteen minutes and one unintended consequence of her act was the S.C.U.M. Manifesto finally found a commercial publisher.  In certain feminist and anarchist circles she remains a cult figure although, it takes some intellectual gymnastics to trace a lineal path from her manifesto to the work of even the more radical of the later-wave feminists such as Andrea Dworkin (1946-2005), Susan Brownmiller (b 1935) and Catharine MacKinnon (b 1946).  Solanas to this day still is usually described as a “feminist” or “radical feminist” but, given the implication of the manifesto, it would seem more accurate to label her a misandrist (one who exhibits a hatred of or a prejudice against men), a world view which attracts many because, to be fair, there are any number of reasons to hate men.  Misandry was a late nineteenth century formation, the construct being mis- (in the sense of “hatred”) +‎ -andry (men), by analogy with the more commonly used misogyny (hatred of or a prejudice against women); the inspiration was the Ancient Greek μισανδρία (misandría), the construct being μισέω (miséō) (hate) + ἀνήρ (anḗr) (man).

Post operative image of Andy Warhol’s torso.

Warhol required surgery to his spleen, stomach, liver, esophagus and lungs; the damage he suffered to a range of internal organs not uncommon among those shot at close range; the bullet ricocheted off a rib, accounting for the lateral trajectory.  Although the Beretta M1935 automatic (in .32ACP) she used is not regarded as a “big calibre” (the .32 listed by most as a “small bore”), a single shot from one, especially at close-range, can be lethal and an wound from even a smaller load (like the .22 she was also carrying) can be fatal.  In the context of handguns, a “big calibre” load usually is defined as one with a diameter of .40 inches (10mm) or larger and of those there are many including .44, .45 & .50 although “magnum” versions of smaller bore ammunition (.22, .357 et al) can match many larger loads in “stopping power”.

Attempted murder weapon: Beretta M1935 automatic in .32ACP.

Interviewed later, Warhol reflected: “Before I was shot [June, 1968], I always thought that I was more half-there than all-there - I always suspected that I was watching TV instead of living life. People sometimes say that the way things happen in the movies is unreal, but actually it’s the way things happen to you in life that’s unreal. The movies make emotions look so strong and real, whereas when things really do happen to you, it’s like watching television - you don’t feel anything. Right when I was being shot and ever since, I knew that I was watching television. The channels switch, but it’s all television.”

Gun (1982), synthetic polymer paint and silkscreen ink on canvas by Andy Warhol.

Artistically, the shooting had consequences.  Warhol became more guarded, abandoning projects like filmmaking which required so much contact with people and stopping the production of controversial art which might attract more murderers and focusing on business, in 1969 founding what became Interview magazine in 1969.  Although there had in his previous output been evidence of an interest in death and violence, after the shooting, often he would visited the theme of death, painting a series of skulls and one of guns, a weapon with which he now had an intensely personal connection.  He was certainly not unaware what happened that day in June 1968 was a turning point in his life, some twenty years later noting in his diary: “I said that I wasn’t creative since I was shot, because after that I stopped seeing creepy people.”

Magazine

Magazine (pronounced mag-uh-zeen)

(1) A publication that is issued periodically, usually bound in a paper cover, and typically contains essays, stories, poems, etc., by many writers, and often photographs and drawings, frequently specializing in a particular subject or area, as hobbies, news, or sports.

(2) A room or place for keeping gunpowder and other explosives, as in a fort or on a warship.

(3) A building or place for keeping military stores, as arms, ammunition, or provisions.

(4) A metal receptacle for a number of bullets or cartridges, inserted into certain types of automatic and semi-automatic weapons which, when empty, is removed and replaced by a full receptacle in order to continue firing.

(5) In broad or narrowcast media (radio, TV, social etc), a production consisting of several, usually short, segments in which various subjects are examined, usually in greater detail than on a regular newscast.  In the jargon of the industry: the magazine format.

(6) A device for continuously recharging a handling system, stove or boiler with solid fuel.

(7) A storehouse or warehouse (now rare).

(8) A collection of war munitions.

(9) A rack for automatically feeding a number of slides through a projector.

(10) In film-stock photography, an alternative name for cartridge.

(11) A city regarded as a marketing centre (archaic).

1581: From the Middle French magasin (warehouse, store), from the Italian magazzino (storehouse), from the Arabic مَخَازِن‎ (makhāzin) (plural of مَخْزَن‎ (makhzan) (storehouse)) noun of place from خَزَنَ‎ (khazana) (to store, to stock, to lay up); from the same Arabic source came the Spanish almacén (warehouse) and it's an example of European languages borrowing from an Arabic in plural form to create a singular form.  The original Arabic plural مخازن (maxāzin) was from the singular noun مخزن (maxzan) (storehouse; depot; shop).  A magazinette was  a small or short magazine (in the sense of a periodic publication), based on the notion of a novella or operetta.  Such things do still exist but the term has fallen from use.  In the early days of the commercial availability of semi-automatic firearms, at least one manufacturer did label those used with handguns "magazinette", the idea being they were a small version of the "magazines" supplied with larger weapons but the four syllable suggestion seems almost instantly to have been replaced by "clip".  The informal noun describing the industry publishing magazines was magazineland.  Magazine, magaziner & magazinette are nouns and magazinelike (and magazine-like) is an adjective (magazinesque seems to be non-standard); the noun plural is magazines.

Lindsay Lohan, Vogue magazine (Spanish edition), August 2009.

The original general sense of “storehouse” is almost obsolete except for military purposes and in naval history, magazines feature frequently because their detonation (usually as a result of attack but sometimes accidents too) was often the cause of ships being sunk, often with a high death-toll.  As used to describe books figuratively as “storehouses of information”, the form emerged circa 1640, the first application to a "periodical journal" was the Gentleman's Magazine in 1731.  Over the years magazines have appeared in a variety of formats with paper stock of different sizes and quality and have been as small as a single sheet or have run to hundreds of pages.  Although high-end publications were often lavish, it was only after the 1970s that the use of glossy paper became the industry standard after for years often appearing only on covers.  In the West, the the 1970s, 1980s & 1990s were the golden decades for magazines (and newspapers), the general trend of rising prosperity and the attractiveness of the medium to advertisers meaning growth of the sector was assured and the ease with which new entrants could appear was enhanced by the rise of desktop publishing, meaning entire editions could be composed with equipment which cost a tiny faction of what was required even a generation earlier.  There was churn because many came and went and the periodic recessions claimed some but during those decades the trend was more and not less.

Jarre 10-Shot Pinfire "Harmonica" pistol with 10 chamber magazine.

The early pistols were essentially small-scale muskets with the same, single-shot capability but there was for decades a quest to find a reliable and economical to manufacture design which increased this capacity and the “harmonica” design was an early invention, breech loaded with a steel slide magazine which contained chambers for the projectiles.  The capacity was determined by the size of the magazine although, obviously, the design inherently precluded carrying one in a conventional holster were the magazine in place.  The earliest known examples date for the 1740s.

Ruger Single-Nine .22 Magnum revolver (9-round cylinder) in stainless-steel with fibre-optic front sight (left) and Desert Eagle .50 Magnum Semi-Automatic (7 round magazine) in stainless steel (right).

At various points in the nineteenth century, for volume production, the industry settled on (1) revolvers with a "revolving" cylinder containing the cartridges and (2) semi-automatics with the shells held in a magazine (or “clip”) housed usually in the grip.  The two designs each have advantages and disadvantages: In their favour, revolvers are reliable and, with fewer moving parts, are less prone to jamming, (2) are easy to use (basically “point & fire”), (3) are easy to clean and maintain, (4) are available in a variety of calibres (although the larger the bore, the lower the cylinder’s capacity, the range from 5 x .50 to 9-12 x .22) and (5) can be fired even if pressed against an object.  The drawbacks include (1) slower reloading, (2) bulk (revolvers tend to be wider and heavier due to the cylinder) and (3) many revolvers have an inherently heavier trigger pull.  Semi-automatic often offer (1) a higher capacity for a given calibre than most revolvers, (2) faster reloading (assuming one has a replacement clip), (3) a thinner profile, (3) lighter trigger pulls (especially single-action units) and (4) a remarkable range of accessories including rails for lights, lasers and optics.  The drawbacks include (1) complexity and a greater number of moving parts, thus increasing the risk of jams or misfeeds, (2) steeper learning curve for users because of the more complex construction and operation, exacerbated by there being greater structural variation between manufacturers than with revolvers, (3) greater sensitivity to exactitude in load specification and (5) if pressed against an object, the slide can slightly move, preventing fire.

The early days of the internet, when most interactions happened on desktops or laptops, appears to have had little effect on the magazine publishing industry and may even have stimulated demand but it was in the early 2010s the near simultaneous arrival at scale of bandwidth, social media and smartphones which created a vicious cycle of (1) increasing volumes of content moving from established publishers to social media & (2) the advertising revenue following the viewers who followed the content.  The decade was littered with publications which either moved on-line or folded entirely but nothing compared with the sudden hit in 2020-2021 of the COVID-19 pandemic when titles which had for a generation or more been staples of the industry ceased to be.  However, some subsequently were revived and what seems to have happened is that many non-specialist titles (such as fashion magazines) have been re-invented as niche players designed to appeal to a small market with the interests and disposable income (the famous A1 & A2 demographic) which will attract advertisers.  A kind of pre-packaging of the audiences micro-marketers crave, this segment of the magazine business can be compared with narrowcasting and for some, the glossy magazine is something desirable and just another form of technology albeit one which can be a more pleasant and more convenient way to consume content and prices has risen so such things can also be flaunted as a status symbol, the sense of exclusivity sometimes not wholly illusory because some titles do restrict certain content to their print editions.  In the West, it's unlikely the glossies will ever again be the mass-market force they once were but as the revival of vinyl records demonstrated, where ongoing demand exists for something technically obsolete, provided a business model can be found profitably to provide supply, niches can survive and thrive.

The Economist's editors' choice of the ten covers which seemed best to define 2016.  At the time, 2016 seemed a ghastly year but worse was to come. 

However, being something that looks like a glossy magazine and sits in the shop on the shelf with other magazines does not guarantee that it is a magazine.  The English weekly The Economist (published since 1843) certainly ticks all the boxes for the criteria of what most people would think constitutes a magazine yet it has always described itself as a "newspaper".  That probably seems strange to many given the structure and nature of the content is more closely aligned with other specialist publications labelled "magazines" than with almost all "newspapers".  The explanation is relates to the the way the word "newspaper" was understood in 1843 and until 1971 it was printed in a broadsheet format (the change to the modern form in no way affecting editorial content).  Just to add some typically Economistesque precision, the editor in 2016 clarified the position further by explaining "perfect-bound" publications (the binding process used) were in 1843 called "newspapers".  If that sounds a highly technical point, so it should because economics remains, by definition and habit, the publication's meat & drink and economics is a technical business.  Whether it is or can ever be a science is one of those amusing arguments in which minds are never changed.

The Economist is renowned also for its cartoons and the dry, occasionally sardonic captions which accompany the photographs and illustrations used lend color or context to articles.  A rough guide to Hell appeared on the cover of the 2012 Christmas double issue (December 2012).  Theologically dubious, as a piece predictive of the decade ahead, it proved remarkably prescient.

Politically, The Economist is best classified as belonging to "the fiscally conservative, socially liberal faction of the rational centre-right" and one perhaps surprising quirk revealed in a survey conducted by a US university was the high number of readers who turn first to the weekly obituary, the subjects of which are an eclectic lot: In addition to the expected popes, politicians & potentates, criminals, Cassanovas & courtesans and musicians, mandarins & megalomaniacs (there's some overlap with other categories), there are lives recorded which might otherwise be forgotten such as the man who spent decades gathering and storing all the typefaces used by the world's typewriters.  Nor are non-humans neglected, Alex the African Grey (science's best known parrot) & Benson (England's best-loved fish), both granted the valedictories they doubtlessly deserved.

Holy

Holy (pronounced hoh-lee)

(1) Specially recognized as or declared sacred by religious use or authority; consecrated.

(2) Dedicated or devoted to the service of God, the church, or religion; godly, or virtuous; of, relating to, or associated with God or a deity; sacred.

(3) Saintly; godly; pious; devout; having a spiritually pure quality; endowed or invested with extreme purity or sublimity.

(4) Entitled to worship or veneration as or as if sacred.

(5) A place of worship; sacred place; sanctuary.

(6) Inspiring fear, awe, or grave distress (archaic).

Pre 900: From the Middle English holi & hali, from the Old English hālig, hāleġ & hǣlig, (holy, consecrated, sacred, venerated, godly, saintly, ecclesiastical, pacific, tame), a variant of the Old English hālig, hǣlig & hāleg, the construct being hāl (whole) + -eg (-y), from the Proto-West Germanic hailag, from Proto-Germanic hailaga & hailagaz (holy, bringing health).  It was cognate with the Old Saxon hēlag, the Gothic hailags the Dutch & German heilig, the Old Frisian helich and the Old Norse heilagr.  Ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European kóhzilus (healthy, whole).  It was adopted at conversion for the Latin sanctus although the Middle English form emerged as holi which remained a common spelling until the sixteenth century.  Holy is a nown & adjective. holiness (the spellings holinesse, holyness & holynesse all obsolete) is a noun and holier & holiest are adjectives; the noun plural is holies.  The noun holiosity is non-standard and is used in humor when referring to those for who religion has become an obsession and often one they think should be imposed on others.

Lindsay Lohan bringing holiness, Machete (2010).  The weapon is a Smith & Wesson .50 Magnum revolver with 8" barrel (S&W500: SKU 163501).

The primary (pre-Christian) meaning is not possible to determine; documentary evidence simply doesn’t exist but most think it probably meant something like “that must be preserved whole or intact, that cannot be transgressed or violated” and was connected with the Old English hal (health) and the Old High German heil (health, happiness, good luck (source of the German salutation Heil which became so well-known in the 1930s)).  Holy water was in Old English and holy has been used as an intensifying word from 1837 and used in expletives since the 1880s; a “holy terror” generally meaning “a difficult or frightening person” but which in Irish informal use means a man thought a habitual gambler, womanizer etc.  The adjectival forms are holier (comparative) & holiest (superlative) while the noun plural is holies but “the holy” functions as a plural when referring to persons or things (eh holy relics) invested with holiness.  When used in a religious context, it’s common to use an initial capital and probably obligatory when referencing the Christian God, or Christ.  The old alternative spellings holi, hali, holie & hooly are all obsolete.  Words that depending on context may be synonymous or merely related include divine, hallowed, humble, pure, revered, righteous, spiritual, sublime, believing, clean, devotional, faithful, good, innocent, moral, perfect, upright, angelic, blessed & chaste.

The Old Testament's Book of Leviticus is regarded by many as a long list of proscriptions, noted especially for the things declared an abomination to the Lord and within the text (Leviticus 17-26) that surprisingly succinct list is known as the “Holiness code” (often referred to in biblical scholarship as the “H texts”), "Holy" in this context understood as “set apart”.  The Holiness code exists explicitly as the set of fundamental rules which the ancient Israelites were required to follow believed they had to follow in order to be close to God and in that sense are the foundational basis for all the moral imperatives in scripture.  What makes them especially interesting historically is the suggestion by a number of scholars that additional laws, written in a style discordant with the rest of the Holiness Code yet in accord with the remainder of Leviticus, were interpolated into the code by a later priest or priests, notably some concerning matters of ritual and procedure hardly in keeping with high moral tone of the apparently original entries.  The contested passages include:

The prohibition against an anointed high priest uncovering his head or rending his clothes (21:10).

The prohibition against offerings by Aaronic priests who are blemished (21:21–22).

The order to keep the sabbath, passover, and feast of unleavened bread (23:1–10a).

The order to keep Yom Kippur, and Sukkot (23:23–44).

The order for continual bread and oil (24:1–9).

Case law concerning a blasphemer (24:10–15a and 24:23).

The order for a trumpet sounding on Yom Kippur (25:9b).

Rules concerning redeeming property (25:23 and 25:26–34).

Order to release Israelite slaves at the year of jubilee (25:40, 25:42, 25:44–46).

Rules concerning redeeming people (25:48–52, and 25:54).

The Holy Alliance

The Holy Alliance (styled in some contemporary documents as “The Grand Alliance”) was something not quite a treaty yet more than a modus vivendi (memorandum of agreement).  Executed soon after the conclusion of the Congress of Vienna (1814-1815), it linked three of the monarchist great states of Europe (Austria, Prussia, and Russia) and existed very much at the behest of Tsar Alexander I (1777–1825; Emperor of Russia from 1801-1825) who had observed the French Revolution (1789) and the convulsions which spread across the continent in its wake and, having little taste for the idea of the mob leading kings to their execution by the guillotine, sought an alliance which would hold in check the forces of secular liberalism.  It was a moment something like that noted by George VI (1895–1952; King of the United Kingdom 1936-1952) who, traveling through the Surrey countryside, pointed at Runnymede (where in 1215 the Magna Carta was forced on a reluctant King John (1166–1216; King of England 1199-1216), saying to his companion: "That's where the trouble started."  

The origin of the Holy Alliance, 1815.

The Tsar envisaged the UK being part of the Holy Alliance but Lord Castlereagh (1769–1822; UK foreign secretary 1812-1822) belonged to the long tradition of trying not become involved in European affairs unless necessary and called it “sublime mysticism and nonsense.”  The troubled Castlereagh committed suicide and in his papers there's no indication of the sense in which he used the word "sublime" but in late fourteenth century it was used as a verb meaning "alchemy".

So inconsequential did Castle think the treaty that he anyway recommended it be joined by the UK, a course of action the Cabinet declined to pursue and the supportive gesture of George IV (1762–1830; prince regent of the UK 1911-1820, king 1820-1830) adding his signature as King of Hanover had the most negligible political or military significance.  Despite London’s reserve, Austria, Prussia, Russia, & the UK did later in 1815 formalize the Quadruple Alliance which had for some time existed in effect to counter the military and revolutionary threat presented by the expansion of the First French Empire under Napoleon I (Napoleon Bonaparte, 1769–1821; First Consul of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815).  Although Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo wrote finis to that venture, the four powers thought the Quadruple Alliance a means by which the framework created by the Congress of Vienna might best be maintained as a stabilizing device so the state of European affairs might indefinitely be maintained, it’s last resort being the military apparatus which could be deployed to ensure something like the French Revolution couldn’t again happen.  Events seemed to move in the direction of the Holy Alliance when, in 1818, the Bourbon monarchy was restored to France under Louis XVIII (1755–1824; king of France 1814-1824 (but for the unfortunate hundred days in 1815 when he fled the advance of Napoleon)) and the Quadruple Alliance became the Quintuple.  However, the British, even then among the most constitutional of monarchies, never had much enthusiasm for the alliance's more illiberal actions but the four continental powers did impose their will, the Austrians in Italy in 1821 and the French two years later in Spain.  Despite those encouraging successes however, although not fully appreciated at the time, both the arrangement and the Holy Alliance became effectively defunct with the death of Alexander in 1825, the events in France in 1830 the final nail in the coffin.

Nevertheless, the Holy Alliance remains an interesting cul-de-sac in European history and one noted for (by diplomatic standards) the brevity of its three articles: (1) That all members are brethren, beholden when necessary to assist one another to protect religion, peace, and justice, (2) That the members are Christian nations who owe the treasure of their existence to God, and recommend to their subjects to enjoy God’s gifts, and exercise his principles and (3) That members agree this alliance shall utilize the principles of God and Christianity to shape the destinies of mankind over which they have influence.  One suspects Metternich (Prince Klemens von Metternich, 1773–1859, Austrian foreign minister 1809-1848, chancellor 1821-1848) and others might have shared Castlereagh’s opinion of the spiritual flavor of the Tsar’s wording but it was recognized by even the most cynical of pragmatists as at least potentially useful and was eventually signed by all European rulers except (1) the Prince Regent of the UK because of the cabinet’s opposition, (2) the Ottoman sultan who could hardly countenance such a Christian document and (3), the Pope in Rome, the papal councilors and bishops approving not at all of something which, for the sake of unanimity, embraced schism, heresy, and orthodoxy alike.  To the Holy See, these were the papers of politicians and thus the work of the Devil.

Whatever it wasn’t, the Holy Alliance was a symbol of the old social order and liberals viewed it with disdain, revolutionaries with hatred.  Although effectively it was in 1825 buried in the tomb of the dead Tsar, its spirit endured until the revolutions of 1848 and in a sense it continued to influence the actions of statesmen until the Crimean War (1853-1856).  That crafter of alliances, Prince Otto von Bismarck (1815–1898; Chancellor of the German Empire, 1871-1890), attracted to something so over-arching yet meaning so little, sort of resurrected it after the unification of Germany in 1871 but the withered idea of a unifying Christendom proved by the 1880s not strong enough to prevail over Austrian and Russian self-interest in the squabbles in the Balkans as the edges of the Ottoman Empire began to fray.

Of unholy alliances

As a footnote, the Holy Alliance left a linguistic legacy: the phrase “unholy alliance”.  Unholy alliance is used to describe a coalition formed between improbable and usually antagonistic parties, such arrangements often ad hoc and the product of circumstance rather than choice.  There need not be any religious or anti-religious element for it to be applied and it’s a companion term to “strange bedfellows” or “uneasy bedfellows”. 

There have been many instances of use and it appeared in the platform of the Progressive Party, formed by Theodore Roosevelt (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) to contest the 1912 US presidential election: “To destroy this invisible government, to dissolve the unholy alliance between corrupt business and corrupt politics is the first task of the statesmanship of the day.”  A classic statement of the rationale came from Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) in 1941 when, after Germany invaded the Soviet Union (a unilateral repudiation of an earlier unholy alliance (the Nazi-Soviet pact of 1939) which was one of history’s more cynical arrangements between adversaries, both parties knowing it was being pursued for mutual advantage as a prelude to an eventual conflict between them), the UK suddenly had gained a wartime ally albeit one with which relations had been hardly friendly and often strained since the revolutions of 1917.  In a radio broadcast that evening Churchill announced: “No one has been a more consistent opponent of communism for the last twenty-five years. I will unsay no word I have spoken about it. But all this fades away before the spectacle which is now unfolding. The past, with its crimes, its follies, its tragedies, flashes away.… The Russian danger is therefore our danger, and the danger of the United States, just as the cause of any Russian fighting for hearth and house is the cause of free men and free peoples in every quarter of the globe.”  When one of his colleagues noted the queerness of him being the one to announce such an alliance, he remarked: “If Hitler invaded hell I would make at least a favorable reference to the devil in the House of Commons.”

Portrait of Clare Sheridan (then Ms Frewen) (1907), oil on canvas by Emil Fuchs (1866-1929) (left) and a sepia print of the younger Leon Trotsky (circa 1908) (right).  

Churchill didn’t approve of communism, his attitude hardened by the new regime in Moscow having murdered the last Tsar and his family.  Very much a monarchist (his wife once described him as “the last man in Europe who believes in the divine right of kings”), Churchill thus took a dim view of the Bolsheviks and while serving as Secretary of State for War and Air (1919–1921) was involved in the allied intervention supporting anti-Communist White forces in the Russian Civil War (1917-1922), his mood not improved when he learned his favorite cousin, the sculptor Clare Sheridan (1885–1970), had enjoyed a brief affair with comrade Leon Trotsky (1879-1940; founder of the Fourth International).  Whether he ever called Trotsky “the hairiest Bolshevik baboon of all” remains uncertain but it’s at least plausible and he would later tell his cousin “we shall never speak of this unpleasantness again”.  Her memories of the tryst remained fonder, recalling the time her lover had whispered: “a woman like you should be the whole world to a man.”  At least one “Bolshevik baboon” could be poetic.

By 1941, however bad he thought were the communists in Moscow, the Nazis in Berlin were worse so an alliance with the Soviet Union, unholy though it would have felt, Churchill welcomed with barely a qualm.  He was also more perceptive in his assessment of Russian resistance to the invasion than most military & political figures in London, Washington DC or Berlin, the consensus in those circles being the Red Army would be defeated within a few months.  Given the bloody purges comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) had committed against his military leadership and the poor performance of the Russian army against the Finns in 1940, the grim expectations weren’t unreasonable but Churchill offered good odds to anyone willing to take his bet: “I will bet you a Monkey to a Mousetrap that the Russians are still fighting, and fighting victoriously, two years from now.”  That was slang from the turf, a “Monkey” being a £500 wager and a “Mousetrap” a gold sovereign with a nominal value of £1 (ie odds of 500-1).  Unholy the alliance may have been and there were tensions throughout between Moscow, Washington & London but the need to defeat Nazism meant it survived long enough to fulfil its purpose before the Cold War became the world’s new primary political dynamic.

Statesman

Statesman (pronounced steyts-muhn)

(1) Certain politicians with a favorable reputation (a rare breed), especially those associated with international relations.

(2) A person (not of necessity an elected politician) experienced in the art & science of government or versed in the administration of government affairs, especially those involved in diplomacy.

(3) A product name used variously of such things as cars, ships and (especially) newspapers and periodicals.

1585–1595: A construct was state + s + -man, modeled on steersman (in nautical use, one who steers a ship or other vessel (the helmsman)).  State was from the early thirteen century Middle English noun stat, from both the Old French estat and the Latin status (manner of standing, attitude, position, carriage, manner, dress, apparel; and other senses), from stare (to stand); a doublet of estate and status.  The idea of “the polity” which evolved ultimately into the construct of the modern nation-state began to develop in fourteenth century Europe, notably the multi-entity Holy Roman Empire.  In other European languages, the comparable words were the French être, the Greek στέω (stéo), the Italian stare, the Portuguese estar, the Romanian sta, and the Spanish estar.  

The suffix –man developed from the noun and was applied describe (1) someone (the original implication obviously implied male) who is an expert in an area or who takes part in an activity, (2) someone employed or holds a position in an area, (3) someone possessing particular characteristics relating to a topic or area, (4) someone (in this case explicitly male) of a certain nationality or sub-national geographical identity (not a universal use which varied according to the structure of the root word (other suffixes including –an, -ian etc) or (5) in Admiralty jargon, a ship which has special characteristics relating to a trade or area (‎merchantman, ‎Greenlandman etc) which produced the amusing linguistic paradox of forms such as “she’s a merchantman” because of the convention ships were always referred to in the feminine.  Man was from the Middle English man, from the Old English mann (human being, person, man), from the Proto-West Germanic mann, from the Proto-Germanic mann (human being, man), probably from the primitive Indo-European mon- (man) (men having the meaning “mind”); a doublet of manu.  The specific sense of “adult male of the human race” (distinguished from a woman or boy) was known in the Old English by circa 1000.   Old English used wer and wif to distinguish the sexes, but wer began to disappear late in the thirteenth century, replaced by mann and increasingly man.  Man also was in Old English as an indefinite pronoun (one, people, they) and used generically for "the human race, mankind" by circa 1200.  It was cognate with the West Frisian man, the Dutch man, the German Mann (man), the Norwegian mann (man), the Old Swedish maþer (man), the Swedish man, the Russian муж (muž) (husband, male person), the Avestan manš, the Sanskrit मनु (manu) (human being), the Urdu مانس‎ and Hindi मानस (mānas).   Although often thought a modern adoption, use as a word of familiar address, originally often implying impatience is attested as early as circa 1400, hence probably its use as an interjection of surprise or emphasis since Middle English.  It became especially popular from the early twentieth century.

The derived form statesmanship described an idealized conception of how a politician should behave.  It's now less common, probably less so because the standard of politicians has so obviously declined than a reluctance to use a word thought gender-loaded; to say "statesmanship" might now be thought a micro-aggression.  The suffix -ship was from the Middle English -schipe & -shippe, from the Old English -sċiepe, from the Proto-West Germanic -skapi, from the Proto-Germanic -skapiz.  The equivalent forms in other languages included the Scots -schip, the West Frisian -skip, the Dutch -schap, the German -schaft, the Swedish -skap and the Icelandic -skapur.  It was appended to nouns to form a new noun denoting a property or state of being, time spent in a role, or a specialized union, a popular use being the way a set of social duties associated with a particular role shape or develop one's character (fellowship, ownership et al).  Other suffixes used for similar purposes (property or state of being) include -ness, -hood, -itude, -th, -ity & -dom.

Meeting a statesman: Lindsay Lohan meeting with Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (b 1954; prime-minister or president of the Republic of Türkiye since 2003), Presidential Palace, Ankara, Türkiye, 27 January 2017.

The informal noun superstatesman is used to refer to someone especially successful (especially in international relations) while to say of someone or their actions that they possess the quality of being unstatesmanlike, it’s a criticism which implies they have not reached the expected standard (ie they’re acting more like a politician).  The term "elder statesman" generally is used either of (1) a respected political leader (not of necessity all that elderly but usually retired or at least withdrawn from the controversies of front-line politics) or (2), by extension, a prominent and respected person in any field who usually is retired or inactive with their involvement restricted to commentaries.  Statesman & statesmanship are nouns and statesmanlike & statesmanly are adjectives; the noun plural is statesmen (except in commercial use when Statesman is used as a product name in which case the plural should be Statesmans (although Statesmen seems not uncommon)).  The feminine noun stateswoman and the gender-neutral statesperson are more recent creations (both with the same derived adjectives on the model of those from statesman) and notably used less frequently.

The usually told joke is that a statesman is a “dead politician” and there’s some element of truth in that because the reputation of politicians certainly seems often to improve once they’ve had the decency to drop dead.  Unfairly or not, politicians often are characterized those dedicated to the pursuit of power, advancing their own interests or those of their party and making decisions that cater to short-term political gains (although they also have a great interest in accumulating money and many taxpayers would be surprised to learn just how much of their money ends up each year in the bank accounts of politicians; such is the array of “allowances & entitlements” (often opaque and sometimes secret) that the total is some distance from their notional annual salary).  Anyway, because the focus of a politician is on winning elections and pursuing the agendas of whomever is funding them (or offering to in their post-political life), the term “politician” usually carries negative connotations, implying opportunism, manipulation and a lack of concern for anything except self-interest.  Old Jack Lang (1876–1975; Premier of New South Wales 1925-1927 & 1930-1932) used to tell the young seeking a career in politics his best advice was "...in any race, always back the horse called self-interest; it'll be the only one having a go."

Two statesmen meeting to discuss matters of common interest: Dr Henry Kissinger (b 1923; US national security advisor 1969-1975 & secretary of state 1937-1977, left) and General Augusto Pinochet (1915-2006; dictator of Chile 1973-1990, right), Santiago, Chile, 1976. 

The term statesman carries usually positive connotations and is associated with someone in public life who has demonstrated wisdom, integrity and a vision which includes the interest of the public and this rare breed is characterized by their commitment to serving the greater good, often transcending narrow partisan interests in favor of broader national or societal goals.  It’s probably easier for a politician to be thought statesmanlike if they come into office having already established an illustrious reputation through pervious public service, such as Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961) who, before he entered the White House, was one of the nation’s most respected soldiers.  Actually, in the US where appointments to the cabinet don’t require election, it’s more likely one can be thought a statesman because one need never dirty one’s hands with the nasty business of electoral politics.  Serving as secretary of state for a scant twelve months between 1950-1951, General George Marshall (1880–1959; US Army chief of staff 1939-1945) is remembered as a “great statesman” because he looked the part and the Marshall Plan (the post-war re-financing of Europe with US dollars) bore his name although it was something he neither conceived, designed or administered.  Another of America’s chief diplomats, Dr Henry Kissinger, is still described by some as a “great statesman” (although many others prefer “war criminal”).  Certainly, politicians good and evil are aware that how they’re remembered is based on who gets to write the histories.  Late in World War II (1939-1945), when things really weren’t going well for the Nazis, Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945), well aware of the enormity of the crimes the regime (of which he was a prominent part) had committed and one of the few realists among a generally deluded lot, was said to have commented: “Either we are going to go down in history as the greatest statesmen of all time, or as the greatest criminals.”  Although that phrase has for decades been attributed to him, it’s not certain he used quite those words but his diary entries and collaborated contemporary testimony from others leave little doubt that was what was on his mind.

Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) had no doubt what qualities defined statesmanship.  In the prison diary assembled from the huge volume of fragments he had smuggled out of Spandau prison while serving the twenty year sentence he was lucky to receive for war crimes & crimes against humanity (Spandauer Tagebücher (Spandau, the Secret Diaries), pp 451 William Collins Inc, 1976), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recounted one of the Führer's not infrequent monologues, a small part of which mentioned the matter:

“Whoever succeeds me must be sure to have an opening for a new war.  We never want a static situation where that sort of thing hangs in doubt In future peace treaties we must therefore always leave open a few questions that will provide a pretext.  Think of Rome and Carthage, for instance. A new war was always built right into every peace treaty. That's Rome for you! That's statesmanship.” 

The Holden Statesman

1971 Ford ZD Fairlane 500.  The industry legend was the development budget for the original ZA Fairlane in 1967 was "three quarters of four-fifths of fuck all".  Like the basic vehicle, the styling updates were borrowed from earlier US Fords so the effort required was about as minimal as the budget. 

Holden was the General Motors (GM) outpost in Australia and in the 1950s and 1960s, for a variety of reasons (not wholly related to the dynamic qualities of the cars they sold), the operation had been highly successful, for many years enjoying a market share as high as 50% odd.  By the early 1970s, increased competition had eroded Holden’s dominance although it remained the market leader in most sectors it contested with one exception: the executive sedan.  Ford in 1967 had effectively re-defined this market by conjuring up a long-wheelbase version of the mass-market Falcon which overnight rendered obsolete some of the antiquated British competition and provided an attractively less expensive alternative to the bigger Fords, Chevrolets, Pontiacs and Dodges, imported via Canada to take advantage of the lower tariffs imposed on products from the Commonwealth (the successor regime to the old imperial preference scheme).  Although well-suited to Australian conditions, the US cars were becoming increasingly expensive because of movements in the exchange rate (the Bretton-Woods system (1944) of “fixed” currency rates was more an interacting series of “managed floats”).  So, developed very cheaply with only detail changes and some (what now seems modest) bling, the elongated Falcon was in 1967 released under the Fairlane name (used earlier in Australia for both a full-sized and intermediate North American import) and it proved an instant success, selling not only in large numbers but with a profit margin unmatched in the local industry.  Of course, one victim of this success was Ford’s own imported Galaxie, sales of which slowed to a trickle, demand now restricted mostly to governments which admired the "statesmanlike" presence the big machines lent the politicians being chauffeured around.  The Galaxies would remain available in Australia until 1973.

1968 HK Holden Brougham.

Holden couldn’t let such an obvious market be ignored but their first response seems bizarre and was treated as such at the time.  Instead of following Ford’s lead and stretching their platform to create a long wheelbase alternative, Holden took their previous top-of-the-line Premier and extended the trunk (boot) by eight inches (200 mm), increasing luggage capacity and presumably pleasing those carrying stuff like bags of golf clubs but that really answered a question nobody had been asking.  Named the Brougham (a name with a tradition dating back to horseless carriages but rapidly becoming popular with US manufacturers), ascetically, the long-tail really didn’t work because it rendered the shape fundamentally unbalanced and the market response was muted, Brougham sales never making a dent in the Fairlane’s dominance.  Time has been kinder and the Brougham now has a cult following among collectors, especially the early versions which used a 307 cubic inch Chevrolet V8 because Holden's own 308 hadn't reached production.  Ironically, the mildly-tuned 307 isn't one of the more highly regarded iterations of the small-block Chevrolet V8 but the allure of the name remains strong.  In the early 1980s, when the things were unwanted and could be bought for a few hundred dollars, one enterprising customizer built a two-door version and while some of the detailing was lacking, the basic lines worked surprisingly well but as Chrysler and Ford discovered in the 1970s, although the market for such things in the US was huge (the segment was called "the personal coupe"), in Australia it was was small and shrinking so it's as well Holden didn't try their own.

1971 Holden Statesman De Ville.

In 1971, Holden did respond with a long wheelbase executive sedan, this time called the Statesman.  Apparently, there had previously been only one short-lived car called a Statesman (joining a governmental-themed roll-call manufacturers had previously used including Senator, Diplomat, President, Ambassador, Envoy and even Dictator).  This time, the styling was outstanding and, especially if buyers could resist the lure of the then inexplicably popular vinyl roof, the Statesman was an elegant execution, details such as the split egg-crate grill especially admired.  The frontal treatment was also a clever design because the whole HQ range used a “nose-cone” making face-lifts much cheaper and the same approach applied to the tail, the tail-lamps used on the commercial range and the station wagons re-purposed.  Holden had learned well from Ford’s example.  Structurally, the Statesman following the Fairlane’s price points, the basic car aimed at the hire-car market and available with a six cylinder engine and bench seats to make it a genuine six-seater while the Statesman De Ville featured a higher level of trim and used either Holden’s 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) or the imported Chevrolet 350 (5.7).  Just to emphasize how special the Statesman was, the Holden name didn’t appear either on the car or its advertising, the local operation instead seeking, and receiving, GM’s permission to used Cadillac’s famous wreath on the badge.  All the publicity material said "Statesman by General Motors" but few were fooled and eventually the trickery was abandoned.

The misstep Ford got away with: The 1972 ZF Fairlane (left) was criticized because it looked little different from the basic Falcon; the 1976 ZH (right) rectified that, an eight-year old US design this time providing the template.

The Statesman sold better than the Brougham but didn’t threaten the Fairlane’s dominant position in the sector, even though Ford in 1972 made the fundamental mistake when releasing its new version of not ensuring there was sufficient product differentiation; the new ZF Fairlane looked like a somewhat bloated XA Falcon but such was the inertia of the name and the solid reputation for reliability and resale value that fleet-managers and private buyers remained loyal and it wouldn’t be until 1976 that the problem of the Fairlane’s comparative anonymity was rectified and that by bolting on the styling from the 1968 Mercury; that’s how things were done then.  However, Ford in 1973 scored its other big hit by stretching the Falcon still further to create the LTD, a capable but gaudy machine which so appealed to governments and corporations that it for decades dominated those fleets.  Like the Fairlane, the LTD was a highly profitable package developed at low cost and noted for its bling such as the aviation style controls for the air-conditioning.  With the coming of the LTD, the imported Galaxie was withdrawn from the Australian market.

1976 Holden HJ Statesman Caprice: The increasingly baroque touches added during the face-lifts ("heavy-handed" the phrase used at the time) meant the later versions lacked the purity of the HQ, the delicate lines of which were the high-water mark of Holden's styling.     

Holden made no attempt to match the LTD, leaving the lucrative segment to Ford while the Statesman soldiered on although, matching the Fairlane, the slow-selling base model was dropped when the range was revised in 1974, along with the Chevrolet 350 V8 which had been fitted only to around 600 Statesmans (some of which were exported to New Zealand and South Africa with some unpleasing detail changes).  The structure of the range changed with the De Ville now the base car and a new model, the Caprice, sitting atop, the differences between the two all in bling, the mechanical specification identical, both using the Holden 308 V8 and the now more reliable Trimatic automatic transmission.  Through two face-lifts (HJ & HX), the Statesman was relatively unchanged during the troubled and difficult mid 1970s, most attention devoted to devising plumbing to lower emissions, something which worked but at the cost also of decreasing power and drivability; all that increased was the fuel consumption and the price.

1979 Holden Statesman SL/E.

However, in 1979, Holden surprised the market by splicing a new Statesman between the De Ville & Caprice: the Statesman SL/E.  Although mechanically unchanged from the rest of the range, the SL/E was advertised as the “sporty” Statesman, something made vaguely plausible by the huge improvement in handling rendered when the HZ cars were released in 1978 with what Holden called “radial tuned suspension” (RTS).  Unfortunately, the market found the idea of a “sporty Statesman” about as improbable as the conjunction sounds and the car was not a success, presumably because it was neither one thing or the other, the De Ville fundamentally the same only cheaper and the Caprice better equipped and more prestigious.  Whether the SL/E might have been better received had there been a genuine attempt to improve performance can't be known but power without an increase in emissions was hard to find in 1979 and Holden had the misfortune within a couple of months of the launch, the “second oil-shock” hit and V8 engines were suddenly again unfashionable.  Fortunately for Holden, the SL/E had not been an expensive programme, the wheels, badges and much of the bling borrowed from models already in production.

1982 Holden Caprice.

Still, the price of petrol not withstanding, by then, the next model Statesman was locked in for release in 1980.  The WB Statesman De Ville & Caprice existed because, cognizant of the uncertainty around the stability of the world oil market, Holden had replaced their mainstream range with the Commodore, a smaller (critically, narrower) car based on a European platform developed by Opel, GM’s German outpost.  The smaller machine was not suitable as the base for a Fairlane competitor so the decision was taken to update the HZ, even though the platform dated back to 1971.  What was achieved was commendable given the budget although the designers were disappointed that with the release of the new Fairlane & LTD in 1979, Ford had staged a pre-emptive hit with the six-window roof-line Holden had planned as their exclusive.  One genuine difference though was the Caprice’s hand-assembled grill, made from metal in an age when extruded plastic assemblies had long become industry practice but although much admired, it wasn’t enough to save the dated platform and the last Statesmans left the factory in 1985.  Holden did though flirt with a stay of execution because by 1982 it was clear the world would soon be awash with oil (what would come to be called the "oil glut"; the CIA's infamous 1975 prediction the world would "...by 1983 run out of oil" clearly wrong) and there were thoughts of a "low cost" version of the WB Statesman, resurrecting a proposal which seriously had been contemplated during the previous decade.  That was a response to the booming sales Ford was enjoying for it's bigger, wider Falcon range but the decision was taken to focus efforts instead on a bigger, wider Commodore, a vehicle released in 1988 which enjoyed great success.     

Publicity shot for 1983 Holden Statesman De Ville Magnum.

One quirk of the WB’s life however was that Peter Brock (1945–2006), a racing car driver who had created a successful business selling modified, high-performance Commodores, decided to resurrect the Statesman SL/E but this time make it genuinely “sporty”.  Labeled the Statesman Magnum, the car could be based on either the De Ville or Caprice according the buyer’s taste & budget and because Brock’s record-keeping was at the time a little haphazard, it’s not clear how many were built and it may not even have reached three figures.  Unlike the SL/E, the Magnum's 308 V8 benefited from the addition of the improved components Brock used on the Commodores: the cylinder heads, inlet manifold, air cleaner and exhaust system combining to produce a significant lift in output (power increasing from 170 to 250 hp (126 to 188kW) while, perhaps more relevantly for the target market, torque rose from 265 to 315 lb/ft (361 to 428Nm)).  Nor was the chassis neglected, Bilstein gas shock absorbers added all round while the front suspension geometry was revised and up-rated springs were fitted, the anti-roll bars thicker & stiffer.  Externally, most striking were the 16 x 8-inch Momo Polaris aluminium wheels while a variety of color schemes were offered, including the toning down of the chrome fittings to something darker and more menacing.  The press response was favorable, the already fine dynamics the platform had possessed since the debut of RTS now able better to be exploited with the additional power the Magnum provided, more than matching even the Chevrolet 350 fitted to some HQ Statesmans which had been offered only in a mild state of tune.  However, as the American industry had discovered in the 1960s, those who want high-performance vehicles prefer usually that they be in smaller packages and, as Ford two decades would re-discover when the Fairlane G220 was greeted with a polite yawn, those who wanted big luxury and those who wanted something smaller and “sporty” were two different populations, at least at certain stages in their lives.  In a sense though, Holden had the last laugh, the Statesman and Caprice later revived when the Commodore became larger and better suited to a wheelbase stretch and together they first out-sold and then outlived the Fairlane & LTD.