Protuberant

Protuberant (pronounced proh-too-ber-uhnt, proh-tyoo-ber-uhnt, or pruh-too-ber-uhnt)

Bulging out beyond the surrounding surface; protruding; projecting; swelling from the surrounding surface; bulging.

1640–1650: From the sixteenth century French protubérant (prominent beyond the surrounding surface), from the Late Latin protuberantem (nominative protuberans), present participle of prōtūberāre (to swell, bulge, grow forth), the construct being pro- (forward) + tuber (lump, swelling) from the primitive Indo-European root teue- (to swell).  The most common form in the Late Latin was prōtūberāre (to swell).  The verb protuberate (bulge out, swell beyond the adjacent surface) dates from the 1570s, from Late Latin protuberatus, past participle of prōtūberāre.  Protuberant is an adjective, protuberate is a verb, protuberance & protuberancy are nouns and protuberantly is an adverb; the noun plural is protuberances.

Patting the protuberance of pregnancy: Ali Lohan (b 1993, left) photographed with her pregnant sister Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, right) wearing Sandal-Malvina Fringe Tank Dress in (unattributed) Dodge Yorange (left).  The shoes are Alexandre Birmen Clarita Platforms and may have been worn just for the photo-shoot; usually, pregnant people prefer something more sensible.

Artwork not by PM&C.

In Australia, PM&C (Department of Prime Minister & Cabinet) in 2022 released a new logo for the “Women’s Network”.  To the left of the construct was a cursive "W", the right stroke (the vertical diagonal line in a letter) adorned with a swash (a fancy or decorative replacement for a terminal or serif in an upper-case capital letter (although this w may be lower case (it’s hard to tell) in which case it would be a "flourish").  To the right was a capsular (technically a geometric stadium) protuberance which had been bitten into by the stylized W.  The logo’s graphical elements were rendered in a darkish purple which lightened as the shape extended right, the text below in two different sans serif fonts, one line in bold black, the other grey.  The design and placement of the text, though not obviously thoughtful, did at least add meaning to the graphic which might otherwise have been thought something to do with aubergines (eggplant).

Innocent interpretation: The aubergine (eggplant).

The logo proved to have a short life, withdrawn from circulation in response to complaints it resembled male genitalia; on Twitter, #logonono quickly trended.  Almost immediately the furor erupted, PM&C issued a statement saying the logo had been “removed” from its website “pending consultation with staff”.  Noting the phallic creation was part of a rebrand of staff DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) networks “to establish a consistent look and feel” between the logos used for various groups, PM&C added “the Women’s Network logo retained a ‘W’ icon which staff had been using for a number of years” which seemed an unnecessary clarification given nobody had objected to the W.  Anxious to assure the country that whatever controversy might have been induced by the purple protuberance, PM&C announced the “…rebrand was completed internally, using existing resources, and designs were consulted on widely.  No external providers were engaged for this work… (and that) the prime minister and the prime minister’s office were not part of this logo design.”  Well that cleared that up.

Graphic designers do seem sometimes unaware of the levels of anatomical comparison their work offers.  Of course, on the basis that "no publicity is bad publicity" there may be the odd "intentional inadvertence", there being much to be gained from a good handling of a controversy. 

The errors cut across cultures.  Here technical advice from an architect would have helped, more historically correct additional minarets should have been added and only a single dome depicted.

The attitude of critics was exemplified by the NOWN (National Older Women’s Network), which issued a statement describing the logo as “either thoughtless or an insult” although as a re-branding exercise, the project had to be labeled a success, most of the country now aware of the existence of the Women’s Network, a mysterious body previously familiar probably only to a handful of souls devoted to it causes.  A discussion of what it does or whether it fulfils any useful purpose wasn’t stimulated by the outcry over the offending logo so whatever the Women’s Network was doing before, it presumably continues to do.  One thing it achieved was to flush out the competition; it seems there are in the country a number of organizations with "Women's Network" in their title but whether there are demarcation disputes or all work together is collective feminist harmony seems not to have made the news.

Logo developed in 1973 by Gerry Kano Design on a commission from Roman Catholic Church's Archdiocese of Los Angeles.

Designed for the Archdiocesan Commission of Catholic Youth, remarkably as it may now seem, the imaginative creation won an "Excellence in Design" award from the Art Director's Club of Los Angeles.  An example of how things have changed, it was a time when what priests did behind closed doors tended to be "hushed up" with bishops "solving the problem" by shifting the perpetrator to another parish when he would find new victims against whom to visit his sins.

Perhaps the men involved in the “Women’s Network” design didn’t notice the shape of the protuberance because they were focused on the color, anxious to avoid what might once have been the obvious choice: pink.  That would of course have been condescending and gender-stereotyping so the staff at PM&C deserve some praise in this aspect of a matter in which they weren’t involved.  Pink stuff for products aimed at the female market may be less of a thing than once it was but for men wanting a gift with a difference for women, it seems more of a thing than ever, pink tool kits popular gifts with sales spiking reliably in the run up to Christmas and even Valentine’s Day.  In truth, whatever the color, it's probably a good idea for the modern young spinster to have her own tool kit because as many of them will attest, men just can't be relied upon.  However, while working well for novelties like hammers and screwdrivers, pink doesn’t always have a good record as a marketing device writ large, failure exemplified by the Dodge La Femme.

Chrysler show cars, 1954:  Chrysler Le Comte (his, top) & Chrysler La Comtesse (hers, bottom).

Chrysler offered the La Femme package in 1955 and 1956 on the Custom Royal Lancer (the division's top trim line), the creation not a stylistic whim but a response to sociological changes in an unexpectedly affluent post-war US society in which women were found to be exerting a greater influence on the allocation of their family’s rising disposable income and of most interest to Chrysler was that those increasingly suburban families were buying second cars, women getting their own.  Adventurous color schemes were nothing new for Detroit, the cars of the art deco era noted for their two-tone combos but shades had been more subdued in the years immediately after World War II (1939-1945).  That changed with the exuberance of 1950s experimentation when three and four-tone renderings hit the showrooms though for the La Femme concept which had been previewed in the La Comtesse, two were judged enough.  The Le Comte & La Comtesse show cars in 1954 attracted most attention for their clear Perspex roofs (a craze at the time which didn’t last long as buyers found themselves slowly being cooked) but, following the grammatical conventions of their French definite articles, they were very much a “his & hers” brace, the darker (black & bronze) Le Comte with a “masculine” image and the La Comtesse, painted in  "Dusty Rose" & "Pigeon Grey", a softer and more “feminine” look.

1955 Dodge La Femme by Chrysler (left), accessories by by Evans of Chicago (right).

The public and critical response to La Comtesse must have been positive enought to encourage production and for the 1955 model year, the La Femme option was offered on the Dodge Custom Royal Lancer two-door hardtop, finished in a two-tone combination of "Heather Rose" (a shade of pink) & "Sapphire White", highlighted with gold-colored "La Femme" badges in a display script but if the exterior was (almost) subdued, the interior, a sea of pink, was femininity laid on with a trowel.  Trimmed in a tapestry fabric unique to the La Femme which wove pink rosebuds on a silver-pink background in pastel-pink vinyl, confronting those who sat there was a dashboard painted in bright-pink lacquer.  In case nobody sitting inside got the message, there was another La Femme badge in anodized gold-tone making explicit this was "a car for women". 

In the pink: Dodge La Femme (1955-1956).

In a marketing ploy which turned out to be years ahead of its time, the La Femme also came with coordinated accessories, the centrepiece a pink calfskin handbag that fitted neatly into a storage compartment built into the back of the passenger’s seat, the shape of which included a scallop which meant the handbag’s escutcheon plate was visible, Dodge’s press-kits noting the brushed-metal was designed to permit the owner’s name to be engraved.  The handbag contained a compact, lipstick case, cigarette case, comb, cigarette lighter, and change purse, all made variously with faux-tortoiseshell or pink calfskin, both combined with yet more anodized gold-tone metal.  In a matching compartment on the back of the driver’s seat was a rain coat, rain-cap and umbrella, all made with a vinyl patterned to match the rosebud interior fabric.  The design and production was by Evans of Chicago, a furrier and maker of fine accessories, famous for the display of "Black Diamond" mink coats in their flagship store at 36 South State Street.  Evans later would fall victim to the anti-fur movement which would lay waste to an industry on which many regional economies had been built.

The advertising message which at the time seemed a good idea.

In toned-down form, the La Femme option re-appeared in 1956.  The external color combination was changed to a "Misty Orchid" & "Regal Orchid" scheme and the interior finish was simplified, the previous year’s tapestry fabric proving challenging to produce in volume.  The revised upholstery used a heavy white cloth with random patterns of short lavender (purple's most "feminine" hue) and purple loops, matching the loop-pile carpeting and the accessories were limited, restricted in 1956 to just the rain coat, rain cap and umbrella.  Over the two seasons, fewer than 2,500 buyers chose the US$143 option and it didn’t re-appear for 1957.

Dodge in 1955-1956 had advertising for men (HP (horsepower), speed and V8 engines, left) and for women (everything pink, the paint, the rosebuds on the upholstery, the handbag, compact, lipstick case, cigarette case, comb, cigarette lighter, change purse, rain coat, rain-cap and umbrella, right).  In an interesting (though unverified) juxtaposition of men's perceptions, several sources suggest at least three La Femme buyers chose the most powerful engine on the option list, Dodge’s D-500 (a 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8 with hemi heads and a four barrel carburetor, rated at a then most masculine 285 HP); perhaps not all clung to 1950s gender stereotyping.

Dodge La Femme advertising copy (1955, left) and pony-tail friendly headrest (right).  The men at Dodge were not wrong in concluding the “discriminating, modern woman” existed in commercially significant numbers and that she might buy a car but didn't grasp that functional features would have more appeal than pink paint. Ironically, the evidence does suggest men at the time were rather more susceptible to being drawn to a car because it was marketed as “masculine” than were women to something cynically and superficially “feminized”.

Other manufacturers did dabble with feminine-themed cars in a similar vein including GM's (General Motors) 1958 Chevrolet Impala Martinique and Cadillac Eldorado Seville Baroness but neither reached series-production.  The special detailing on GM’s 1958 show cars was the work of two of the seven women hired by the corporation's then head of styling, Harley Earl (1893–1969) and within the studios, the septep were known as the “Damsels of Design”, Jeanette Linder working on the Impala Martinique convertible and Suzanne Vanderbilt on the Eldorado Seville Baroness.  Had their presence continued Detroit’s design language in the 1960s might at least subtly have followed a different path but, upon Earl’s retirement in 1958, he was succeeded by Bill Mitchell (1912–1988; head of design at GM 1958–1977) whose world view was different: “No women are going to stand next to my male senior designers”.  Under the Mitchell regime, the damsels departed although probably he’d approved of their work at GM’s Frigidaire division designing the 1955 “Frigidaire Kitchen of Tomorrow” which genuinely was influential.  While doubtlessly Mr Mitchell opened a fridge only to get himself a beer when no woman was on hand to fetch one for him, he’d have thought women just the people to design how fridges should look.  Much later, there would be innovations in car design which women found genuinely helpful such as a hook on which a handbag could hang while remaining conveniently accessible and headrests which comfortably would accommodate a ponytail.

Six and the Single Girl, 1966.  Describing the Mustang's politely behaved six-cylinder engine as a "husky brute" might seem a stretch but it was rugged and dependable so maybe a case could be made.

What in the US did find a receptive audience among women was the new generation of smaller (the "compacts", "pony cars" & "intermediates") automobiles introduced in the early 1960s, women sensibly drawn to something smaller than the standard-size machine which after 1957 grew to an absurdly inefficient size (to which men would continue to be attracted until economic reality bit in the 1970s).  FoMoCo (Ford Motor Company) in 1966 took advantage of the shift in the tastes of some with its “Six and the Single Girl” campaign, promoting to a suddenly numerous sub-set of the female demographic the virtues of the six cylinder version of its Mustang which wildly had been successful since introduction in 1964.  That subset was “the young white women of the baby boom”; many had jobs which meant they had either the capital or credit rating required to buy a new car and the Mustang, stylish, small (in US terms) and affordable could have been designed with them in mind which, to some extent, it was.  Coincidently, at the time, FoMoCo was struggling to meet demand for V8-powered Mustangs but had the capacity to produce more sixes so in 1966 the planets aligned nicely and “Six and the Single Girl” played a part in stimulating demand, the fitment rate of the "six-pot" engine at times approaching 50%, the same phenomenon experienced by the main competition, the Chevrolet Camaro, introduced that year.  Because the survival rate of the era’s six-cylinder pony cars is so low, the general perception of the breed overwhelmingly is of V8-powered, tyre-smoking muscle cars but many were built as modest commuters (the so-called “secretary’s car”) purchased by those more interested a car’s gas (petrol) consumption than its ET (elapsed time) over a drag strip’s ¼ mile (400 metres).

Sex and the Single Girl: The first edition hardback published by Bernard Geis (1909–2001) had a plain cover with just the title in text (the “S1NGLE” was a gimmick) but after huge sales, the re-print rights were on-sold and some editions (including the 1963 paperback by Cardnal) featured pink-themed artwork.

In a form of “ambush marketing”, FoMoCo picked up “Six and the Single Girl” from the title of Sex and the Single Girl by Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012), a book which sold by the million (more quickly than even the Mustang managed) and spent more than a year on the NYT (New York Times) best seller list.  In a sense, Sex and the Single Girl was a product of pharmacological determinism, published as it was some two years after the first oral contraceptive pill (even then famously known as “the pill”) was approved for prescription use in the US by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration).  Without women gaining some degree of autonomous control over their fertility, the premise of the book would have been absurd because as well as arguing the importance of them being financially independent of men, she advocated pre-marital sex, if need be with multiple partners and, obviously, without benefit of marriage.  Women with their own money was an idea subversive enough but the notion of unrestrained promiscuity upset the priests and politicians even more and although in the era a number of books (including Rachel Carson’s (1907–1964) Silent Spring (1962), Anthony Burgess’s (1917–1993) A Clockwork Orange (1962), William S. Burroughs’ (1914-1997) Naked Lunch (1962), Edward Albee’s (1928–2016) Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1962), Betty Friedan’s (1921–2006) The Feminine Mystique (1963) and James Baldwin’s (1924–1987) Another Country (1963)) appeared which appalled many in the conservative establishment, there was something about S&theSG which seemed especially threatening.  The protests of course made it a succès de scandale (from the French and literally “success from scandal”) which is the literary or artistic term encapsulating the dictum Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1945; Nazi Minister for Propaganda and Public Enlightenment 1933-1945) followed when dealing with the press in the difficult years before the party was handed power (like the consequences of Benito Mussolini's (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) "March on Rome" the Nazi's "seizure" of the state is something of a myth): “Let them abuse us and let them damn us but let them say something about us”, a variant of Oscar Wilde’s (1854–1900): “It doesn’t matter what people are saying about you as long as they’re saying something”.  Goebbels truly was evil but his point was well made and among a prolix crowd, he was succinct, the acerbic thumbnail sketches of his Nazi colleagues he noted in his diaries in some ways reveal in a few words as much about them as their inch-thick biographies.

Tussy Cosmetics promotion, 1966.

The Tussy Cosmetics company in 1966 offered three 1967 Mustangs as prizes for contest winners, each finished in a shade of pink which matched the lipsticks Racy Pink (“A pale pink”), Shimmery Racy Pink Frosted (“Shimmers with pearl”) & Defroster (“Pours on melting beige lights when you wear it alone, or as a convertible top to another lip color”).  The fate of the cars is unknown but nerds might note the three prizes were 1967 models while the model (as in the Mustang) in the advertisement was from the 1966 range.  That's because the advertising copy had to be made available before the embargo had been lifted on photographs of the 1967 range.  The men on Madison Avenue presumably dismissed the suggestions that might be what would now be called “deceptive and misleading” content with the familiar “she'll never know”.  Ten years on from Dodge’s La Femme debacle, old habits were dying hard.

Single girl Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) amply filling the cover of Cosmopolitan's “Love Edition”, January 2026.

When in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown was appointed editor of the glossy women’s magazine Cosmopolitan, the title switched focus to a publication aimed almost exclusively at the emerging and growing demographic with disposable income in which FoMoCo would become interested.  In what proved a perfect conjunction: a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  It’s a bit of a long bow to suggest Cosmopolitan for decades reproduced variations of 1962’s best seller advice manual in a monthly, glossy package but clearly, there was a gap in the market and there were more similarities than differences.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Second wave feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.  FoMoCo, neutral on the squabbles, sold women six-cylinder Mustangs by the truckload, feminism's S&theSG and capitalism's 6&theSG proving symbiotic.

Pit

Pit (pronounced pit)

(1) A naturally formed or excavated hole or cavity in the ground.

(2) A covered or concealed excavation in the ground, serving as a trap for animals.

(3) In extractive mining, an excavation made in exploring for or removing a mineral deposit (also known (at scale) as “open-cut” as opposed to “underground” (although in casual use sometime used also of the mineshafts used in underground operations.  It can in mining slang also refer to an entire mine site, regardless of the mode of extraction.

(4) The stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, plum etc) and technically, the hard, inner layer (the endocarp) of certain drupes.

(5) The abode of evil spirits and lost souls; hell; the depths of Hades.

(6) In slang (as “the pits”) an extremely unpleasant, boring, or depressing place, condition, person, etc; the absolute worst (used also as a clipping of armpits).

(7) A hollow or indentation in a surface (in substances like glass or when referring to surfaces (paint, varnish etc), treated usually as an imperfection).

(8) In physiology, natural hollow or depression in the body, organ, structure or part; fossa (used most often of the small of the back).

(9) In medicine, a small, indented scar, as one of at the site of a former pustule after smallpox, chicken pox or similar diseases; a pockmark.

(10) In music, a section of the marching band containing mallet percussion instruments and other large percussion instruments too large to march, such as the tam tam; the area on the side-lines where these instruments are placed.

(11) In botany, any of various small areas in a plant cell wall that remain un-thickened when the rest of the cell becomes lignified (used especially of the vascular tissue).

(12) In archaeology, a hole or trench in the ground, excavated according to grid coordinates, so that the provenance of any feature observed and any specimen or artefact revealed may be established by precise measurement.

(13) An enclosure, usually below the level of the spectators, as for staging fights between dogs, cocks, or, formerly, bears (as cockpit later extended to aircraft, cars, boats etc).

(14) In physical markets (such as a commodity exchange), a part of the floor of the exchange where trading is conducted (known in some places as “as open outcry pits” because transactions were done by traders shouting offers & acceptances at each other).

(15) In architecture, all that part of the main floor of a theatre behind the musicians (in UK use also the main floor of a theatre behind the stalls); sometimes used as “orchestra pit” (the area that is occupied by the orchestra in a theatre, located in front of the stage)

(16) In a hoist-way, a space below the level of the lowest floor served.

(17) In motorsport, an area at the side of a track, for servicing and refueling the cars (the use later adopted by cycle racing).

(18) In ten-pin bowling, the sunken area of a bowling alley behind the pins, for the placement or recovery of pins that have been knocked down.

(19) In track athletics,  the area forward of the take-off point in a jumping event, as the broad jump or pole vault, that is filled with sawdust or soft earth to lessen the force of the jumper's landing.

(20) In casinos, the area or room containing gambling tables.

(21) In aviation, the part of the aircraft (usually the bottom of the fuselage) given over to freight; a luggage hold.

(22) In American football, the centre of the line.

(23) In hospital slang, the emergency department.

(24) Literally, the bottom part (lowest point) of something; figuratively an undesirable location (especially if dirty, dangerous etc).

(25) In military slang, a bed (some evidence also of civilian (presumably ex-military) use).

(26) In nuclear physics, the core of an implosion nuclear weapon, consisting of the fissile material and any neutron reflector or tamper bonded to it.

(27) To mark or indent with pits or depressions.

(28) In medicine, to scar with pockmarks.

(29) In physiology (of body tissue) temporarily to retain a mark of pressure, as by a finger, instrument, etc.

(30) To place or bury something in a pit, as for storage.

(31) To set in opposition or combat, as one against another (usually in the forms “pit against” or “pitted against”).

(32) In motorsport, to exit from the track, entering the pits, to permit the pit-crew to effect a pit-stop.

(33) To remove the stone of a fruit (cherry, peach, or plum), sometimes with the use of a pitter (if something done vocationally, by a pitter, usually with the use of a pitter).

Pre 900: From the Middle English noun pit, pittle, pite, pute, put & putte, from the Old English pytt (natural or man-made depression in the ground, water hole, well; grave (the Kentish variation was “pet”), from the Proto-West Germanic puti, from the Proto-Germanic putt- (pool, puddle) which was the source also of the Old Frisian pet, the Old Saxon putti, the Old Norse pyttr, the Middle Dutch putte, the Dutch put, the Old High German pfuzza and the German Pfütze (pool, puddle), an early borrowing from Latin puteus (pit, trench, shaft) (etymologists noting the phonetic difficulties which exist also in the speculated relationship between puteus and the primitive Indo-European root pau- (to cut, strike, stamp).  Because the short u makes it unlikely puteus was from paviō (to strike), it might instead be linked to putāre (to prune) but the distance between the meanings makes etymologists just as sceptical and some suggest puteus may be a loanword though the spelling might be mysterious.  The use in the context of stone fruit was an Americanism dating from 1841, from the Dutch pet (kernel, seed, marrow), from the Middle Dutch pitte & pit (kernel, core (and cognate with pith)), from the Proto-Germanic pittan (the dialectal German Pfitze (pimple) was an oblique of the Proto-Germanic piþō), from the Proto-Germanic pithan- (source of pith).  Like the use in other contexts, each instance of the verb was derivative of the noun.  Pit is a noun & verb, pitter is a noun and pitted & pitting are verbs; the noun plural is pits.

Ford GT40 pit-stop, Sebring 12 Hours, International Championship for Makes, Sebring, March 1966.

The meaning “abode of evil spirits, hell” dates from the late twelfth century, one of the many means in the medieval world of referring to hell.  The meaning “very small depression or dent in the surface of an object” was in use by the early 1400s, the anatomical sense of “natural depression or hollow in some part of the body” from more than a century earlier.  The “pit of the stomach” was in the literature by the 1650s and it was so-called from the slight depression there between the ribs; the earlier terms used by doctors were the late fourteenth century breast-pit and heart-pit from circa 1300.  The meaning “part of a theatre on the floor of the house, lower than the stage” was known by the 1640s while in market trading, the sense of “that part of the floor of an exchange where business is carried on” was first documented in 1903 as a coining in US English.

One of the high-water marks of the analog era: cockpit of the Anglo-French Concorde.

The phrase money-pit in the sense of “an edifice or project requiring constant outlay of cash with little to show for it” is quite modern, dating only from 1986 and assumed derived from the popular movie of the same name of the same name released that year (though it’s not impossible it had earlier been in regional use).  The prior use had been in the 1930s when it was used of the shaft on Oak Island, Nova Scotia which legend suggested would lead one to treasure buried by Captain Kidd or some other pirate.  Popular Mechanics magazine in September noted wryly the term might better refer to the millions spent trying to get the treasure out than the hoard of gold itself and in 2022, entrepreneurial engineer Elon Musk (b 1971) produced a variation, describing the factories in Europe building the electric Tesla cars as “money furnaces”.  The ash-pit (repository for ashes, especially the lower part of a furnace) dates from 1797 and it replaced the earlier (1640s) ash-hole, reflecting the implications of industrialization as forges and furnaces grew larger.  The venomous snake the pit-viper was so-named in 1872 because of the characteristic depression between the eyes and nose.  In commercial forestry, the pit-saw was first described in the 1670s, referring to a large saw operated by two men, one (the pit-sawyer) standing in the pit below the log being sawed, the other (the top-sawyer) standing atop.  Pitman was one of a wealth of vocationally-derived surnames which began to appear late in the twelfth century and it referred to one who dwelled literally “in or by a pit or hollow”, the use to describe someone who “works in a pit or mine” not documented until 1761.  Pitman shorthand, a popular form of hand-written transcription of spoken-word text which could later be read by a typist (often the “shorthand-taker) came into use in the 1860s, having been devised by English teacher & publisher (and devoted vegetarian) Sir Isaac Pitman (1813-1897) in 1837.  The phrase “flea-pit” dates from the 1920s and was used of cinemas, an allusion to the seats being infested with fleas or other bugs.

A Lindsay Lohan pit-stop from the blooper tape, Herbie: Fully Loaded (2005).

The noun armpit was a mid-fourteenth century description of the “hollow place under the shoulder” and it ran in parallel with the earlier arm-hole although the latter use faded as it came to be used of clothing and as an anatomical descriptor it was obsolete by the mid seventeenth century.  There was also the early fifteenth century asselle, from the Old French asselle, from the Latin axilla but armpit prevailed.  The colloquial phrase “armpit of the nation” was used as a term of derision for any place thought ugly and disgusting and it’s not clear when it emerged but it was well-documented from the early 1960s.  The general term “the pits” was a variation and from late in the twentieth century applied to anything or anyone thought the worse possible of their type (ie based on something hairy, smelly and ugly).  Infamously, it was used by the US tennis player John McEnroe (b 1959) who at Wimbledon in 1981 called an umpire “the pits of the world” during one of their discussions.  The noun pitter (curved instrument for removing stones from cherries and other fruit” appeared in 1868 when pitters were made available as a commercial product (doubtlessly they had for centuries been improvised or adapted from other utensils) and where they were used vocationally, the user was also called a pitter, the same linguistic process which produced the dual use of shucker in the oyster business (the termed adopted also by others).  Pit-a-pat & pitter-pat, being imitative, are wholly unrelated and date from the 1520s, the noun emerging in 1580.

Boeing 787 Dreamliner cockpit.

The original cockpits were first described in the 1580s and were a “pit or enclosed space for fighting cocks”, the use soon extended to any space in which animals were set to fight to the death, the audience betting on the outcome.  From this came the verb use “to pit against” which meant “to put or set in or into a pit” and this soon extended to boxing; by the eighteenth century in figurative use it was used on any conflict, argument or rivalry.  The general verb use (make pits in; form a small pit or hollow) had been in used (as pit, pitted & pitting) by the late fifteenth century.  The dog breed pit-bull dates from 1922 and was short for pit-bull terrier (first registered in 1912), a type noted for its aggression a fighting abilities.  Cockpit was used of ships early in the eighteenth century of midshipmen's compartment below decks and in some cases was later applied also to the enclosed cabins located towards the centre of the deck began to replace the steerage systems at the stern (later universally known as the “bridge”).  It was picked up for the pilot’s compartment in aircraft in 1914 and (by extension) was used in racing cars in the 1930s.  The word cesspit was created in the 1860s because advances in plumbing meant something was needed to distinguish more modern systems handling sewerage from the earlier cesspool, in use since the 1670s.  The mid fourteenth century pitfall (concealed hole into which a person or animal may fall unawares) was a description of a physical danger which came into figurative in the early 1600s to refer to “any hidden danger or concealed source of disaster.  In mining, a pitfall could also be literally a collapse of the internal structure of a mineshaft, sometime because of the catastrophic failure of pit-props (the timbers which provided the structural integrity of a shaft).  Sometimes a mile or more deep, pitfalls frequently were fatal and the death-toll among miners was high, the phrase “pit-hell” often heard.

The original pits at the Indianapolis Speedway, 1913. 

It was difficult and expensive (and often impossible) to lift heavy machinery to allow mechanics to work on engines or other components so, where possible, it was better to construct a pit underneath from which people could work.  The concept was well documented in workshops by 1839 and the term was by 1912 picked up in motorsport to describe the “area at the side of a track where cars are serviced and repaired” and the early pits were often holes in the ground with waist-high surrounds in which the crew could stand.  They were used also to store spare tyres, parts lubricants etc.  As the sport boomed, the pits quickly became fully enclosed service areas and even garages, built along pit-lane.  When a driver brought his car into the pits (located on the stretch of track called pit-straight), they were said to be pitting to be worked on by the pit crew who might during the pit-stop make repairs, re-fuel or change tyres, either in front of or behind the pit-wall.  Pit crew became a popular term beyond the tracks, used of airline baggage handlers, sea-port staff etc.

The pit-babes from the era of (obvious) sponsorship by tobacco companies: Coming or going, they always looked good.

In motorsport, a pit-babe is an attractive young lady who is in the pits for some reason, not necessarily directly related to the competition.  The companion term was Grid-Girl, equally attractive specimens with the role of (1) looking good and (2) appearing on the grid while the cars were assembled prior to the start, shielding the driver from the elements with a large umbrella, festooned with corporate logos.  It was nice work if you could get it but the Grid-Girls are now rarely seen in Formula 1.  In 2017, Liberty Media (owners of Formula 1) announced that with the coming of the 2018 season, the Grid-Girls would be replaced by “Grid-Kids” (boys and girls competing in junior and “entry level” categories such as karting, the explanation being the practice of using Grid-Girls was “not aligned with modern societal norms and F1's brand values.”)  F1’s “brand values” are however underpinned by “dollar values” and in the years since, Grid-Girls (officially "promotional personnel") have sometimes been allowed to adorn the grid.

Comrade Grid-Girls, Hungarian Grand Prix, 1986.  

Dr Henry Kissinger (1923-2023; US national security advisor 1969-1975 & secretary of state 1973-1977) once recalled his most pervasive memory of life behind the iron curtain being one of “dull grayness and the smell of boiled cabbage”.  Clearly, old Henry didn’t get a pit pass to the 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix where things were bright and colourful.  The 1986 Hungarian Grand Prix was notable because it was the first such event in the country for half a century and the first as a top-flight race, the 1936 Grand Prix not being part of the European championship and run under Formula Libre rules (there should be more Formula Libre events).  Not in Hungry or anywhere else in 1936 were there pit-babes or Grid-Girls but on that sunny June day, a woman had been entered for the event, England’s Eileen Ellison (1910–1967) listed for the field driving a 3.0 litre, straight-8 Maserati 8CM.  Unfortunately, there was what would now be called a “supply chain interruption” and her Maserati was a DNA (Did not Appear) so Ms Ellison appears in the race record as a DNS (Did not Start).

End of an era: Grid-Girls in Marlboro livery at the Hungarian Grand Prix, 2005.

In 1936 it turned out to be a bad day for the Mercedes-Benz team, the W25 which had in 1934 been revolutionary now outclassed and all three were DNFs (Did not Finish), the race won by the mercurial Italian Tazio Nuvolari (1892–1953) in a 3.8 litre straight-8 Alfa Romeo 8C 35, entered by Scuderia Ferrari.  Held in August as the eleventh race of the 1986 series, that year’s Hungarian Grand Prix was the first in the country since 1936 and the first Formula 1 World Championship (contested since 1950) race to be held behind the Iron Curtain; it was attended by some 200,000 spectators (drawn substantially from around the Eastern Bloc), a number not seen since the inter-war years and a mark not exceeded until the 1995 Australian Grand Prix in Adelaide.  The race was won by Nelson Piquet (b 1952; Formula One Champion 1981, 1983 & 1987) in a Williams Honda FW11.  The Hungarian Grand Prix returned to the record books in 2005 when the “XXI Marlboro Magyar Nagydij” became the last Grand Prix to be sponsored by a tobacco company, half the field running in the livery of the tobacco industry, West, Mild Seven, Lucky Strike, Malboro and Benson & Hedges all colourfully represented.  With the EU’s (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957) ban of tobacco advertising coming into force on 31 July, 2005 (race day!), there ended over four decades of cigarette sponsorship in Formula 1, most teams keeping the livery until the last possible moment, the stickers appearing during qualifying and peeled off only shortly before the machines were wheeled to the starting grid (although Ferrari, Renault and Jordan rebelled and kept the logos without consequences).  Of course, the EU’s law-change meant the pit-babes and Grid-Girls also got new outfits although cunningly, the designs often featured shapes and colors recalling the distinctive packaging used for cigarette cartons so the message got through, and ways were explored to find techniques so the cars could also continue as moving billboards.    

Haystack

Haystack (pronounced hey-stak)

(1) A stack, pile or bindle of hay (cut grass) with a conical or ridged top, built up in the mowed field so as to prevent the accumulation of moisture and promote drying.

(2) Any mix of green leafy plants used for fodder.

(3) In the slang of weed smokers, (1) a device (pipe or bong) with an untypically large bowl in which the marijuana is able to be packed in an unusually large quantity or (2) any device where the weed is stacked above the rim of the cone piece.

(3) In slang, among disapproving carnivores, a disparaging terms for salads or dishes made predominately with leafy greens.

Mid 1400s: The construct was hay + stack.  Hay (mown grass) was a pre-900 Middle English word from the Old English hēg, from the Anglian Old English heg & heig and the West Saxon Old English hig (grass cut or mown for fodder), from the Proto-Germanic haujam (literally “that which is cut” or “that which can be mowed”), from the primitive Indo-European kau- (to hew, strike) which was the source also of the Old English heawan (“to cut” and linked to the modern English “to hew”).  Hay’s cognates included the Old Norse hey, the Old Frisian ha, the Middle Dutch hoy, the Gothic hawi, the West Frisian hea, the Alemannic German Heuw, the Cimbrian höobe, the Dutch hooi, the German Heu, the Luxembourgish Hee, the Mòcheno hei, the Yiddish היי (hey), the Danish hø, the Faroese hoyggj, the Gutnish hoy, the Icelandic hey, the Norwegian Bokmål, the Norwegian Nynorsk høy and the Swedish hö; all meant “hay” although use to refer also to grass (later to be used as hay) is documented.  Hay is the ISO’s (International Standards Organization) translingual (symbol ISO 639-3) language code for Haya and, in slang, one of many terms for marijuana (cannabis).  A hay is a net set around the haunt of an animal (especially rabbits or hares).

1962 BRM P57.

In its original configuration the P57's V8 was fitted with “open stack” exhausts.  Sadly, the charismatic array of eight pipes proved prone to cracking and was replaced with a more conventional arrangement which sacrificed a few HP (horsepower) at the upper end of the rev-range but proved robust.  Built for Formula One's “voiturette era” (1961-1965) and powered by a jewel-like 1.5 litre V8, the P57 in 1962 claimed both the constructer's and driver's championships.  Open stack exhausts are still seen in categories like drag racing but there they need to endure only for ¼ mile (402 metre) runs and (baring accidents) are not subject to lateral forces.

Stack dates from 1250–1300 and was from the Middle English stak (pile, heap or group of things, especially a pile of grain in the sheaf in circular or rectangular form), from a Scandinavian source akin to the Old Norse stakkr (haystack), thought from the Proto-Germanic stakkoz & stakon- (a stake), from the primitive Indo-European stog- a variant of steg (pole; stick (source of the English “stake”, the Old Church Slavonic stogu (heap), the Russian stog (haystack) and the Lithuanian stokas (pillar)).  It was cognate with the Danish stak and the Swedish stack (heap, stack).  “Smokestack” and the derived clipping “stack” were by the 1660s in use to describe tall chimneys, initially when arrayed in a cluster but by 1825 it’s recorded also of the “single stacks” on steam locomotives and steamships.  In English parish records, “Stack” is recorded as a surname as early as the twelfth century and there are a variety of explanations for the origin (which may between regions have differed) and in at least some cases there may be a connection with use of “stack” in agriculture (such as peripatetic workers who travelled between farms specifically to “build haystacks”).  In societies where so much of the economy was based on farming and populations substantially were rural, such links were common.    

Wickes-class four stack destroyer USS Buchanan (DD-131), “laying down smoke” during sea trials, 1919.

One of the US Navy's 273 World War I (1914-1918) era “four stackers”, in 1940 she was transferred to the Royal Navy under the Destroyers for Bases Agreement and re-named HMS Campbeltown (I42).  She was destroyed during the St. Nazaire Raid when, loaded with four tons of explosive, she was used a “floating bomb” and rammed into the gates of the Forme Ecluse Louis Joubert dry dock, putting the facility out of use for the duration of the war.

In naval use, the official Admiralty term was “funnel” and warships were in some listings (especially identification charts which used silhouettes) listed thus (“three funnel cruiser”; “four funnel destroyer”) but the sailors’ slang was “two stacker”, “three stacker” etc.  In libraries, “stacks” in the sense of “set of shelves on which books arranged) was in use by the late 1870s and in computer software, the “stack” was first documented in 1960 to describe a collection of elements which work in unison, the original idea being of a stack of things, each subsequent object depending on the one below to run and by the time all are assembled, the whole can function (ie an early instance of “granular” software”).  Later, the word was applied to other concepts, notably the LIFO (last in, first out) model in data structure (LIFO) describing objects added (push) and removed (pop) from the same end.  Stack is a noun & verb, stackage, stacker & stackback are nouns, stacking is a noun & verb, stacked is a verb & adjective and stackless, stacky & stackful are adjectives; the noun plural is stacks.  Haystack is a noun; the noun plural is haystacks.

In Middle English, the alternative forms were hay-cock and its variants (haycok, hacoke & haycoke), all synonymous with grass-cock, hayrick & haystack and referencing the same conical stacks of cut grass.  The haystack was a product of the cutting of grass and subsequently curing it to make hay as fodder for animals.  Just as cheese was made as a means of preserving milk for later consumption, so the cutting a stacking of hay was a way to ensure there would be feed for livestock during the months when the growth of grass was minimal.  There are many derived terms associated with haymaking and haystacks (hayfork, hayknife, haybailer hay mover, hay rake, hayshed etc) but there’s no evidence “haystacker” was ever used of those individuals who “stacked hay into haystacks”.  The form “haymaker” exists but this seems to have been coined to describe machines built for the purpose rather than the workers.  This is likely because it was a seasonal event in which many farm-workers (although there clearly were some “travelling contractors” who went from farm-to-farm) tended to be involved and, needed no specialized skill-set, the term never appeared; it was a task done rather than a job description.

A young lady with hayfork (now better known as a “pitchfork”, building her haystack.

The haystack was a part of agricultural practice even before the civilizations of Antiquity (Egyptians, Greeks, Romans etc) developed the process on a grander scale.  The objective of stacking the hay in conical formations was as protection from pests and the elements and farmers paid much attention to location, the ideal site for a haystack being somewhere slightly elevated, well-drained and with a foundation not prone to promoting moisture absorption (ideally with a bottom layer of some coarse material to promote air-flow between hay and surface.  Usually, a pole was pounded into the ground to prove the structure with a basic structural rigidity and as each layer is added and compacted, the stack grows upwards and outwards, assuming the distinctive shape, the angles at the top fashioned to optimize the shedding of rainwater.  In a sense, the outermost layer is sacrificial in that it will weather and discolour but, if the structure is well-packed, what lies within will retain its green hue and smell “sweet” to livestock.

American Sapphic, Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) & former special friend Samantha Ronson (b 1977) by Ben Tegel after American Gothic (1930) by Grant Wood (1891-1942).  Ms Ronson is depicted holding pitchfork, a tool which, for the manual handling of hay, cannot be improved; like the teaspoon or pencil, it has attained its final evolutionary form.

A “Hawaiian haystack” is a meal of rice with the diner's choice of toppings such as chicken, pineapple, noodles and cheese; a favorite of resort style hotels and cruise ship operators, usually the dish is served buffet-style.  The slang phrase “hit the hay” dates from at least the early nineteenth century when literally it meant “to go to the barn and sleep on an ad-hoc “bed of hay” but by 1903 it was being recorded as meaning simply “going to bed”.  A “roll in the hay” or “romp in the hay” were both euphemisms for “a session of sexual intercourse (usually without any hint of subsequent commitment) and that use is documented only from early in World War II (1939-1945) among US soldiers but when the expression first was used is unknown.  The term “haywire” (usually as “gone haywire” or “gone haywire”) originally meant “likely to become tangled unpredictably to the point of unusability or fall apart”; the idea was of items bound together only with the soft, springy wire (baler twine) used to bind hay bales.  It’s said first to have been used as “haywire outfit” in New England lumber camps (circa 1905) to describe collections of logging tools bound in a haphazard manner and prone to coming adrift.  From that, “haywire” enjoyed some mission creep and came to mean people or machinery behaving erratically or falling apart.  In the modern idiom, the most common use (as “went haywire”) is to describe some act (such as removing a part from a machine) which results in the whole mechanism becoming messed up.

Cylindrical (“rounds” in the jargon) bales of hay stacked in a field.

The figurative term “needlestack” summons the idea of a “stack of needles” and is an allusion to the difficulty in finding a particular object among one of many which are similar or even close to identical.  The word was a back-formation from the phrase “finding a needle in a haystack” which is a much more popular expression although finding a needle in a needlestack is much harder.  Finding a needle in a haystack is merely messy and time-consuming whereas finding a needle in a needlestack can at least verge on the impossible.  The popular TV science show Mythbusters compared methods and found there were techniques which could “speed up” finding a needle in a haystack”, the use of water most efficient (metal being heavier than straw, the needle would sink) while fire worked but was slow and messy and a magnet was ideal (assume the needle remained ferromagnetic).  Obviously, giant magnets, metal detectors or X-ray machines quickly would find even tiny pieces of metal but the Mythbusters crew wanted practical, “real world” examples which would have been viable centuries earlier when first the phrase was used.  The finding of a “bone needle” was considered to be more difficult (fire not recommended and a magnet obviously useless) and the team concluded that whatever the method, the task remained challenging enough for the saying still to have validity.

Haystack News which “finds needles in the haystack”.

Founded in 2013, what prompted the creation of Haystack TV was that in the US, without a cable TV subscription, it was difficult to find news content, the idea being that finding news among the dozens of available channels was like “looking for a needle in a haystack”.  It took until 2015 for the service to start with Haystack TV mission statement saying its objective was to “stream high-quality, trusted news without sifting through masses of irrelevant video.”  Now known as Haystack News, the model is a free, advertising supported streaming service for local, national and international news video available on smart TVs, over-the-top platforms and mobile apps; in the modern way, data (location, topics of interest, favorite sources etc) harvested from each user is used to generate personalized playlist of short news clips.  Initially, the focus was on US news content but in 2019, the vista expanded with clips from more than 200 local TV stations including overseas content.  By 2026, the catchment had expanded to some 400 including Africanews, Al Jazeera, CBC, DW (Deutsche Welle, Euronews, France 24 and i24 News.

A haymaker (in the Middle English originally heymakere) was a machine (purpose built or adapted) used in the production of hay (there's scant evident ever it widely was used of workers involved in the process) and in informal use was “a very powerful punch”, especially one which “knocks down an opponent” (on the model of the sweep of a scythe levelling tall grass).  However, some etymologists suggest a more likely origin is as a reference to the strong, muscular arms of the men who wielded the scythes when “cutting hay”.  Figuratively, by extension, it came also to mean “any decisive blow, shock, or forceful action” although that use is now less common.  A haymonger (from the Middle English heimongere, heymonger & heymongere) was “a trader who deals in hay” and although the practices were never formalized in the manner of modern commodity markets, surviving documents suggest that as early as the 1500s there was something like a “proto futures market” in hay as farmers sought to hedge against variables (flood, drought price movements etc) and ensure they’d have a stock of fodder available at a known price.  Hayseeds literally were “seeds from grass that has become hay” and the word was applied generally to the cruft from bits of hay (ie not actually seeds) that sticks to clothing etc.  By extension, a “hayseed” was “a yokel or country bumpkin” (ie a person thought rustic or unsophisticated).

Bales of hay, stacked in a hay shed.  

Manufacturers list hay sheds as specific designs (classically, two or three sides (facing the prevailing weather) and a roof) so if a hay shed is used for another purpose it's a “re-purposed hay shed” whereas if hay is stored in a different type of shed, it might be described as “my hay shed” but its really a shed in which hay is being stored.  Being practical folk, this distinction is unlikely to be something on which many farmers much dwell.

Originally, haystacks were “stack of hay: which might vary in size and shape but the general practice was to create something vaguely conical; rather than being a choice, this was dictated by the physics in that a cone allowed the largest volume to be stacked with the smallest footprint as well as minimizing moisture intrusion.  The modern practice however is for hay to be bound into bales either cylindrical (“rounds”) or cuboid (a rectangular prism) in shape and which is chosen is a product of the machinery available, available storage capacity, heard size and in some cases whether the hay is to be transported by road.  By virtue of their shape, cylindrical bales tend to shed water which may reach the surface during rainfall so any spoilage usually is restricted to the inch or so of the outermost layer, making them suited to outdoor storage; their density also makes them more efficient for fermenting silage.  The cuboid bale, because of the upper surface area, acts in the rain like a sponge, meaning they should be stored under cover and the advantage of the regular shape is that when stacked, the cuboids create no waste space, unlike rounds typically cost around 15-20% in unused space.  The same equation means cuboids are best suited to be transported by truck.  The modern practice (bales now produced in standardized sizes using machines which sometimes will as part of the process wrap them in a waterproof plastic sheeting) means that the word “haystack” now more accurately reflects a number of bales “stacked” in a shed or on the land while the original conical “stack” would more accurately be called a “pile”.  However, because of centuries of use, the term continues to be applied to both although “bale stack” does exist in the jargon of farming.

Bales of hay being trucked to somewhere.  Both cuboids and rounds can be transported thus but, as with storage, the space efficiency of the former is superior.

The proverb “make hay while the sun shines” is now used figuratively to mean “one should act while an opportunity exists and take action while a situation is favourable” but the origin was literal.  Until very recently, weather forecasting was most inexact and because the moisture content of hay was of great significance (spoilage and the risk of spontaneous combustion), it was important for farmers to avail themselves of sunny, dry condition to cut, dry and gather the grass to be assembled into haystacks.  Dating from a time when weather forecasting essentially was “tomorrow the weather will be much the same as today, two times out of three”, the proverb seems to have originated in Tudor times (1485-1603) and the first known reference is from 1546.  Since the mid seventeenth century, it has been used figuratively.  Phrases like “carpe diem” (seize the day), “grasp the nettle” & “strike while the iron is hot” impart a similar meaning.

Defendants in the dock at the first Nuremberg Trial, the right-hand side of the glass-fronted interpreters' booth seen at the top right corner.

At the first Nuremberg trial (1945-1946), an IMT (International Military Tribunal) was convened to try two-dozen surviving members of the Nazi regime in Germany (1933-1945), 22 of the accused appearing in court, one having committed suicide by hanging (with his underpants stuffed in his mouth to limit the noise) prior to proceedings beginning and one was tried in absentia.  The proceedings were conducted in four languages (English, French, German and Russian) with “simultaneous translation” provided by a rotating group of translators, all those in the courtroom able to listen (through headphones) in any of these language.  It’s no exaggeration to say it was the work of the translators and interpreters that made possible the 13 Nuremberg Trials in the form they took and the implementation of simultaneous interpretation was ground-breaking, the undertaking all the more remarkable because of the scale.  The main trial was conducted over ten months with 210 sitting days and so much material was presented the published transcripts filled 42 volumes, thus the references to “the trial of six million words.”  Logistically, the approach was vital because had the traditional approach been pursued, the trial as conducted would have been impractical because the usual protocol had been: (1) One speaker would deliver remarks in German while (2) interpreters took notes. After the speaker was finished, (3) one interpreter would interpret into French, followed by (4) an interpretation in Russian, and then (5) in English.  Things thus would have lasted perhaps four times as long but with “simultaneous translation” (in reality there was a lag of 6-8 seconds) it was as close to “real-time” as was possible.  Not until the 2020s did advances in generative AI (artificial intelligence) trained on LLM (large language models) mean machines alone could improve on what was done in 1945-1946.  Of course, an AI powered machine (in the form of a static device such as a speaker) could not add meaning by the use of NVC (nonverbal communication such as gestures or facial expressions) as is possible for a flesh & blood interpreter but as the occasionally disturbing “deep fake” videos illustrate, NVC certainly is possible on screen and with advances in robotics, it will be only a matter of time before such things can be done in three dimensions.  Now, we can all carry in our pockets a device able accurately (and even idiosyncratically) to translate dozens of languages as text or voice so the days of the profession of interpreter being a good career choice for a gifted linguist may be numbered.      

Wily old Franz von Papen (1879-1969; Chancellor of Germany 1932 & vice chancellor 1933-1934) wearing IBM headphones, undergoing cross-examination.  He was one of three defendants granted an acquittal.

Before the 13 Nuremberg Trials (the subsequent 12 conducted between 1946-1949), there had been only limited experiments with simultaneous translation.  Historically, the need in international relations had been limited because French had long been the “official language of diplomacy” and the first notable shift came with the Paris Peace Conference (1919-1920) and subsequently the League of Nations (1920-1946), the British succeeded in convincing the participants to conduct the proceedings in English (which really was an indication of growing US influence).  At these venues, what was done came to be known as “whispered interpretation” with an interpreter literally “whispering a translation into a recipient’s ear.”  That was less than satisfactory and what smoothed the path to simultaneous interpretation was the development in the 1920s of a technology ultimately purchased by IBM (International Business Machines) and released commercially as the “IBM Hushaphone Filene-Findlay System” (more commonly called the “International Translator System”), first used at the ILO (International Labor Organization) conference in Geneva in 1927.  So what was done at Nuremberg was not exactly new but it was there the system came to wider attention and for IBM, providing (at no charge) the four tons of electronic equipment including 300 headsets (an additional 300 were borrowed from Geneva) and miles of cable proved a good investment, the publicity generated meaning one of the corporation’s first sales of the system was to the UN (United Nations) headquarters in New York.  The technology alone however was not enough and some potential interpreters who had passed the early evaluation tests proved unsuitable because they found it impossible to adapt to the demands imposed by the electronics; only some 5% of the 700-odd evaluated proved viable interpreters with “the interpreters the IMT reject” sent to what they called “Siberia” (administrative tasks or the dreary job of translating documents).  Those who made the cut spent their shifts in booths behind thick glass although the top was open so the soundproofing was only partial and the booth was located directly adjacent to the dock in which sat the defendants.

Although there was the odd error, the interpreters were thought to have done an fine job although not all were impressed, several entries in the diary of the British alternate judge Norman Birkett (Later Lord Birkett, 1883–1962) revealing his opinion of the breed:  “When a perfectly futile cross-examination is combined with a translation which murders the English language, then the misery of the Bench is almost insupportable.”  “Dubost [French prosecutor Charles Dubost (1905–1991)] is at the microphone again, making his final speech. He is robust and vigorous; but such is the irony of fate that he is being translated by a stout, tenor-voiced man with the 'refayned' and precious accents of a decaying pontiff. It recalls irresistibly a late comer making an apology at the Vicarage Garden Party in the village, rather than the grim and stern prosecution of the major war criminals.”  “But translators are a race apart - touchy, vain, unaccountable, full of vagaries, puffed up with self-importance of the most explosive kind, inexpressibly egotistical, and, as a rule, violent opponents of soap and sunlight.”  Mr Justice Birkitt always made his feelings clear.

The Passionate Haystack at work: British Army Captain Duncan (later Sir Duncan) Macintosh (1904-1966, left), Margot Bortlein (1912-2008, centre) and US Army Lieutenant Peter Uiberall (1911-2007, right).

The best-remembered for the translators was Margot Bortlin (1912-2008) and her place in the annals of the trial is due wholly to the nickname bestowed on her by journalists: “the Passionate Haystack”, the appellation soon picked by the soldiers and men on the legal teams.  The “haystack” element in the nickname came from her luxuriant fair hair which, in court, she would assemble as an “updo” in a shape which (at least in the minds of the men watching) recalled a haystack and such was the upper volume she was compelled to wear the headband of her headphones around the back of her head rather than atop as was the usual practice.  These days, observers of such things playfully might describe her hair as “an installation”.  The “passionate” part was a tribute to her style of translation, said by Dr Francesca Gaiba (b 1971) in The Origins of Simultaneous Interpreting: The Nuremberg Trial (1998) to have been delivered “with great emphasis, smiling and frowning, with sweeping gestures and dramatic vocal inflections.”  It's not known if the Passionate Haystack had any theatrical training but her use of NVC must have been striking compared with the performances of her colleagues who tended to sit inertly and speak in an unrelenting monotone.  Intriguingly, the journalist & author Rebecca West (1892–1983), no stranger to men's rich lexicon of sexist disparagement, who covered the trial made only an oblique reference to the drama in the delivery, reporting: “When it is divulged that one of the most gifted interpreters, a handsome young woman from Wisconsin, is known as the Passionate Haystack, care is taken to point out that it implies no reflection on her temperament but only a tribute to a remarkable hair-do.”  Wisconsin produces almost a quarter of the nation's butter and cheese so is a state of many haystacks.

Those in court rise in their places as the judges enter the chamber, Ms Bortlein (arrowed) looking down at her papers.  Although not not a high definition photograph, the angle at which her hair appears does show why the “updo piled high” contributed to her affectionate nickname.

In a milieu of dark gowns, military uniforms and grim proceedings, Ms Bortelin clearly made quite an impression, drawing the eye for a number of reasons.  Commenting on Justice Birkett’s acerbic view of the interpreter’s profession, in On Trial at Nuremberg (1979), the British Army lawyer Major Airey Neave (1916–1979), who had served the indictment on the defendants in their cells, wrote: “If this judgement seems harsh, it was the judges who had to listen to them [interpreting the words of counsel, defendants and witnesses] for nine months while junior officials could come and go as they pleased.  When I was not following the evidence, my interest in the interpreters’ box dwelt on a young lady with blonde hair, piled high, known as the 'Passionate Haystack'...”  Margot Theresa Bortlein-Brant was born in Aschaffenburg, Germany, her family emigrating to the US in late 1924 when she was 12.  She earned a degree in languages from the University of Chicago, a background meaning she possessed the most valuable skill a translator could have: equal adeptness with both tongues.  Her academic background obviously contributed to that but leaving one’s native land at a young age to learn the language of one’s adopted country doesn’t always produce such competence, one tourist operator at Ayers Rock Resort in Australia’s NT (Northern Territory) heard to remark of one of his staff: “She does German translation for us which is good but she left Germany when she was ten so she speaks German like a ten year old.  Of course that’s not a problem because she also speaks English like a ten year old.”

The Nuremberg Trial, 1946 (1946), oil on canvas by Dame Laura Knight RA (1877-1970), IWM (Imperial War Museum), London.

In the extensive photographic record of the first Nuremberg Trial, what is striking is the often unnamed women appearing at the periphery, the focus almost always on the defendants, prosecuting & defense counsel and judges, all of whom were male.  That was of course a cultural artefact of the time but it was also structural, women literally forbidden from speaking in court unless appearing as witnesses, a rule imposed by the Americans; because it was the US taxpayer footing most of the bill for the proceedings and providing the bulk of the security, logistical infrastructure and administrative support, the will of Washington DC often prevailed.  The Talibanesque “women must be silent” rule was not maintained for the subsequent twelve Nuremberg hearings but even in the first trial, the contribution of women was significant.  Dame Laura Knight’s large canvas The Nuremberg Trial, 1946, an unusual blend of two aspects realism now hangs in the Imperial War Museum in London and is one of the most re-produced images from the trial.  An unusual blend of two aspects of realism achieved by a juxtaposition of defendants in the dock and a devastated Nuremberg cityscape (including corpses), the artist did change a few details to suit her didactic purposes, Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland during World War II) seated not in his usual place but at the painting’s bottom-right, presumably better to show the wrists damaged by a failed suicide attempt.  In court, Frank wore gloves to conceal the effect but these Dame Laura choose to remove.  Curiously for such an accomplished artist, some of the likenesses achieved of those in the dock are not impressive but it remains one of the trial’s most memorable images, despite at the time being received by the critical establishment without enthusiasm.

As well as the interpreters, there were many women who contributed to the trial including journalists, archivists, translators, stenographers, typists and a myriad of support staff.  The Passionate Haystack is untypical in being better remembered than most and, tellingly, that’s because she attracted the gaze of so many men.  In the proceedings however, some of the most harrowing testimony came from women who appeared as witnesses, their stories of enduring cruelty and depravity observed to disturb at least some of the defendants as much as others were affected.  Those tales almost weren’t heard because the initial US proposal had been for the trial to be conducted based wholly on documents which alone would have been enough to convict all those charged.  The American prosecutors took a teleological view of the trial and arrived intending to focus on the idea that what had unfolded in Europe between 1933-1945 was the result of a grand conspiracy; what the Americans envisaged as the result of the trial was a mechanism by which clearly it would be established that planning or waging aggressive war was a violation of international law and future transgressions would be punished.  For that purpose, they had more than enough documents.

The Nuremberg Women (2026) by Natalie Livingstone.

It was the other parties to the trial who insisted on witnesses.  The British team wanted them because, as experienced trial lawyers, they knew the value of a compelling witness and, not assured the conspiracy charge was as convincing as the Americans asserted, wanted simply to ensure they won their cases.  The Soviets, the French and other nations that actually had been invaded or subject to Nazi occupation demanded that those who had suffered be heard and, women having suffered much, it was their testimony which was effective in a way the tabling of documents or the reciting of statistics would never have achieved.  In The Nuremberg Women (2026), English historian Natalie Livingstone has written a series of engaging case-studies of eight women who played some part in the trial including a German writer, a Russian interpreter, an American lawyer and a French Resistance fighter, all of which provide different ways of looking at history’s most extensively documented trial.  One interesting passage in the entry on Dame Laura Knight explored what could be described as a certain moral ambiguity.  What Ms Livingstone detected was the artist’s undeniable fascination with the spectacle of Nazi power, a phenomenon with much color and movement likely to draw the eye of one trained to look for such things to depict; that would not have been unexpected but what the author found “hard to reconcile” was Ms Knight’s seemingly being more fascinated by the spectacle than appalled by the barbarity.  She acknowledged that “In order for her to produce the painting that she did she had to regard Nuremberg as almost a piece of theatre” but, after the Holocaust, l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake) must have its limits. The Nuremberg Women is a fine and original contribution to the history of the trial at which international justice can be said to have begun.