Flachkühler

Flachkühler (pronounced flak-koo-ler)

In German, (literally "wide cooling device" (radiator)), a name adopted by Daimler-Benz to describe the W111 Mercedes-Benz coupés and cabriolets built (1969-1971) with a lower, wider radiator grill than the earlier W111 (and W112) coupés and cabriolets (1961-1969).

Circa 1860s: The construct was Flach + kühler.  The adjective flach (the singular flacher, the comparative flacher and the superlative flachsten) (shallow (wide and not deep)) was from the Middle High German vlach, from the Old High German flah, from the Proto-Germanic flakaz of uncertain origin.  The construct of the noun Kühler ((1) cooler (anything device which cools) or (2) radiator (of an ICE (internal combustion engine)) was kühlen +‎ -er.  Kühlen was from the Middle High German küelen, from the Old High German kuolōn & chuolen, from the Proto-Germanic kōlōną & kōlēną and related to kalaną (to be cold).  It was cognate with the Hunsrik kiele, the Luxembourgish killen, the Dutch koelen, the Saterland Frisian köile, the English cool (verb) and the Swedish kyla.  The German suffix -er (used to forms agent nouns etc from verbs (suffixed to the verb stem)) was from the Middle High German -ære & -er, from the Old High German -āri, from the Proto-West Germanic -ārī, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, from the Latin -ārius.  When used as an adjective, kühler was a comparative degree of kühl ((1) cool (of temperature), (2) calm, restrained, passionless and (3) cool, frigid (particularly of the emotions)), from the Middle High German küele, from the Old High German kuoli, from the Proto-West Germanic kōl & kōlī, from the Proto-Germanic kōluz & kōlaz, from the primitive Indo-European gel-.  It was cognate with the Dutch koel and the English cool.  Flachkühler is a noun; the noun plural is Flachkühlers.

1966 Mercedes-Benz 300 SE (W112, 1962-1967) Cabriolet (Hōchkühler).

The dimensions of the grill used on the Mercedes-Benz W111 coupé & cabriolet were dictated by the height of the 3.0 litre (183 cubic inch) straight six (M189; 1957-1967) engine used in the more exclusive W112 (300 SE) versions.  The M189 was one of several de-tuned variants of the M198 used in the 300SL Gullwing & roadster (W198; 1954-1963) which had started life as the M186 in the big 300 (W186 & W189, “Adenauer” 1950-1963, (the nickname referencing Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990) 1949-1963) before revealing its competition potential by gaining victories at the Nürburgring, the Carrera Panamericana in Mexico and, most famously, the Le Mans 24 Hours endurance classic.  In the sports cars, the long-stroke six had been installed at an angle of 50^o and fitted with a dry sump which permitted a low hood (bonnet) line but in the W111 & W112 the unit was mounted in a conventional perpendicular arrangement and used a wet sump, further adding to the height, thus the relatively tall grill.  The smaller sixes used in the car (2.2 litre (M127); 2.5 (M129) & 2.8 (M130)) were of a more modern, short-stroke design and didn’t demand such a capacious engine bay but production line rationalization meant maintaining two different sets of coachwork for what were low volume models was not viable.

1971 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE 3.5 Coupé (Flachkühler).

By the mid 1960s however, Mercedes-Benz was well aware the gusty, high-revving sixes with which the brand’s reputation had in the post-war years been re-built were technologically bankrupt for an attempt to compete in the vital US market where, for more than a decade, Detroit had been building the world’s finest engine-transmission combinations.  What was needed was a mass-market V8 and because the big-block 6.3 litre V8 (M100 (1963-1981), introduced in 1963 in the 600 Grosser (W100)) wasn’t suitable for down-sizing, two physically smaller V8 ranges were developed, the first of which was designated M116; released in 1969 and in displacements of 3.5, 3.8 & 4.2 litres, it would serve the line until 1991 (confusingly, there were two iterations of the 3.8, the bore/stroke relationship altered for markets with lower speed limits and more onerous emission regulations).  The 3.5 came first and in 1969 it debuted in the W111 coupé & cabriolet, designated 280 SE 3.5.  By then, the old 3.0 litre six had been discontinued so the tall grill, which had come to look rather baroque, was no longer required and shortly after production commenced, the factory took the opportunity to modernize things with the new, lower & wider grill coming to be known as the Flachkühler (literally “flat cooler” and best translated as “flat radiator grill”, the engineers deciding the earlier design should be referred to as the Hōchkühler (high radiator).  Hōch (high, tall; great; immense; grand; of great importance) was from the Middle High German hōch, from the Old High German hōh, from the Proto-West Germanic hauh, from the Proto-Germanic hauhaz, from the primitive Indo-European kewk-, a suffixed form of kew-; it may be compared to the Dutch hoog, the English high and the Swedish hög.

1955 Chrysler C-300 (top left and dubbed retrospectively the 300A), 1970 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE 3.5 Coupé (Flachkühler, top right), Rover 3.5 Coupé (bottom left) and Rover 3.5 Saloon (bottom right).

Although it's the 280 SE 3.5 Cabriolets which now command the highest price, what they miss is the coupe's lovely roofline, a style the factory reprised for the C215 coupés (1998-2006) but in fairness to Chrysler's stylists, the look was borrowed from them.  For a brief, shining moment in 1955-1956, Chrysler offered their elegant “Forward Look”, the flirtation with restraint not lasting long as "irrational exuberance" washed over Detroit's studios but the influence endured longer in Europe, both the Mercedes-Benz W111 & W112 Coupés and the Rover P5 (1958-1967) & P5B (1967-1973) interpreting the shape.  The Rover was a tale of two rooflines: the “Establishment” Saloon and the rakish Coupé, the latter the sort of thing described in barristers' slang as a "co-respondent's car" (ie the type driven by the sort of chap inclined to sleep with other men's wives and thus be cited in divorce proceedings while the man with the unfaithful wife would have driven a 3.5 Saloon).  For those doubting the relatively modest Rover 3.5 saloon's credentials as a “car of the establishment”, for decades UK prime ministers were chauffeured in one and Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) had several, using one until 1987.  

1970 280 SE 3.5 Coupé.  The lovely roofline was a highlight and it's a design best left unadulterated although many haven't been able to resist adding reproductions (usually in anodized plastic) of the chrome wheel arch trim fitted only to the W112.

Testing a 280 SE 3.5 Coupé in 1970, the US magazine Road & Track greeted the revised model with much the same feeling the press would a year later display when Jaguar’s new V12 made its debut in the Series 3 (1971-1974) E-Type (XKE, 1961-1974), writing of the German car: “The vintage coupe gets a lovely new engine”.  The testers came away most impressed with the new power-train, the sheer quality of the build and the performance, the ability to achieve 125 mph (200 km/h) and cruise at high speed for hours not of great relevance in most of the US but anyway something to note of a large and heavy machine of (by US standards) relatively small displacement.  Criticisms were limited mostly to the air-conditioning (it took European manufacturers decades to match what Detroit perfected early in the 1960s) and the swing-axle rear suspension (admittedly a state-of-the-art implementation but still antiquated).  In a sign of the times, the fuel consumption of 15.8 mpg (18.9 mpg calculated in imperial gallons) was deemed “impressive” but that needs to be assessed in the context of the performance and what other cars in the era achieved.  What Road & Track didn’t foresee what was to come for the things as used cars.  Noting the hefty premium charged for the two-door coachwork and that the V8 was also available in the four-door 300 SEL 3.5 (W109), the editors commented: “We wouldn’t give you two cents extra for that hardtop [coupé] body (or the even more expensive convertible [cabriolet] but right now you have to take either that or the also expensive air-suspension on the 4-door sedan to get the V8 engine.  And that is nice.”  By the mid 2020s, all else being equal, the 3.5 coupé sells for 4-5 times what’s achieved by the sedans, the cabriolet at least ten-fold more valuable but in 1970, who would have predicted that?

1970 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE 3.5 Cabriolet (Flachkühler, left) and 1968 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE Cabriolet (Hōchkühler, right).

Produced only between 1969-1971, the two-door 280 SE 3.5s were always expensive and only 3,270 coupés and 1,232 cabriolets were built.  On the US West Coast, in 1970 a 3.5 Cabriolet listed at more than US$13,500 and that was at a time when a Cadillac De Ville Convertible had a base price of US$6,068 (although buyers typically would tick a few boxes on the option list so usually paid around US$7,000; a 1970 Coupe de Ville two-door hardtop listed at US$5,884).  Of course, the Cadillacs included a 472 cubic inch (7.7 litre) V8 and in terms of “dollars per pound” they offered a lot more metal for the money but the customer profile probably then not often overlapped (that would change).  Being another age, the Mercedes-Benz was available with a four-speed manual gearbox (an option Cadillac withdrew after 1953) which was a rather clunky thing which few choose but such is the rarity, they have a following.  The whole ecosystem of 280 SE 3.5 coupés and cabriolets actually became a cult in itself, perfectly restored cabriolets commanding prices in excess of US$500,000 and some German tuning houses will charge more for examples modernized with attributes like ABS (anti-lock brakes and literally "anti-bloc-system"), later V8 engines, transmissions and suspension.  Even now, although in essence the structure dates from the late 1950s and the mechanicals a decade later, the appeal remains because the things are remarkably usable in modern conditions and aesthetically, nothing Mercedes-Benz has made since has anything like the elegance but then, nor have many.   

1953 Morgan Plus 4 ("flat radiator", top left), 1955 Morgan Plus 4 (top right), 1969 Morgan Plus 8 (bottom left) and 2024 Morgan Plus 6 (bottom right).  Thematically, since 1954 not much has changed although, under the skin, there is much is the modern Morgan that is "most modern".

Strangely, the idea of the “flat radiator” had been around for a while in the vernacular of collector car circles but it referred to another aspect of geometry.  In 1952, Morgan of Malvern Link, Worcestershire, was (as it is now sort of still is) an English cottage industry manufacturing pre-war sports cars with more modern engines and they received advice from Lucas that because MG’s new TF (due for release in 1953) would have its headlamps integrated with the bodywork, production of the housing assemblies was ending.  There being no alternative supplier, Morgan were compelled to follow MG’s lead and restyle things so the headlamps were faired in.  Concurrent with unwelcomed change, Morgan the opportunity to effect one of their rare styling changes, abandoning the long-establish upright radiator grill for one mounted in a cowl that blended into the hood (bonnet).  It wasn’t exactly the onset of modernity but there presumably was some aerodynamic gain and just to assure buyers change wasn’t being made for the sake of change, disc brakes would have to wait another few years.  The change to the grill was made in 1953 although, because of the way Morgan operated, some of the older style cars were actually assembled later than the new.  The cars with the traditional Morgan look which features the upright grill are known among aficionados as the “flat radiator Morgans” (definitely not “FlatRads” as has appeared on-line).  In a quirk of industry economics, when the 1961 Imperial range was released, Chrysler began manufacturing its own old-style “freestanding” headlamp nacelles, four of which were mounted on short stalks within deeply scalloped front fenders, a motif (vaguely) recalling what was done in the 1930s.  That the designer dubbed “neo-classical” which may have been a bit of a leap from the term's origin in revivalist architecture.  Imperial retained the look for three seasons although the tailfins were pruned for 1962 after in their final year setting the mark for verticality, peaking at their highest point just a fraction of an inch higher than the famous “twin bullet” installations on the 1959 Cadillac.

Impromptu Flachkühler.

In October 2005, Lindsay Lohan went for a drive in her Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG roadster.  It didn’t end well, a low-speed unpleasantness with a van resulting in her roadster suffering a Flachkühler.  Based on the R230 (2001-2011) platform, the SL 65 AMG was produced between 2004-2012, all versions rated in excess of 600 horsepower, something perhaps not a wise choice for someone with no background handling such machinery though it could have been worse, the factory building 400 (175 for the US market, 225 for the RoW (rest of the world)) of the even more powerful SL 65 Black Series, the third occasion an SL was offered without a soft-top and the second time one had been configured with a permanent fixed-roof.  A production number of 350 is sometimes quoted but those maintaining registers insist it was 400.  Ms Lohan's SL 65 was later repaired and sold so all's well that ends well.

Rosemarie Nitribitt and Joe the poodle, with 190 SL, going to or coming from work.

The best-known owner of a Mercedes-Benz 190 SL (W121; 1955-1962) was Fraulein Rosemarie Nitribitt (1933-1957) who, by 1957, was Frankfurt’s most illustrious (and reputedly most expensive) prostitute, a profession to which she seems to have been drawn by necessity but at which she proved more than proficient and, as the reports of the time attest, there was nothing furtive in the way she plied her trade.  Something of a celebrity in Frankfurt (the republic's financial centre), her black roadster became so associated with her business model that the 190 SL was by some referred to as the “Nitribitt-Mercedes” (and, less charitably, the Hurentaxi (whore's cab)), her car seen frequently, if briefly, parked in the forecourts of the city’s better hotels.  The lives of prostitutes, even the more highly priced, can descend to their conclusion along a Hobbesian path and in 1957, aged 24, she was murdered in her smart apartment, strangled with a silk stocking, the body not found for several days.  Given Fraulein Nitribitt operated at the upper end of the market, her clients tended variously to be rich, famous & powerful and that attracted the raft of inevitable conspiracy theories there had been a cover-up to protect their interests, a rather botched police investigation encouraging such rumors.  The murder remains unsolved.

Frankfurt police officers examining Helga Matura's 220 SE cabriolet (Hōchkühler).  Note the jackboots.

In a coincidence of circumstances and geography, a decade later, Fraulein Helga Sofie Matura (1933-1966) was another high-end prostitute murdered in Frankfurt, the weapon this time a stiletto (the stylish shoe rather than the slender blade).  Never subject to the same rumors the Nitribtt case attracted, it too remains unsolved.  In another coincidence, Fraulein Matura’s car was a convertible Mercedes, a white 220 SE Cabriolet (W111, Hōchkühler).  Despite the connection, the W111 never picked up any prurient nicknames and there was no reputational damage but claims Fraulein Nitribitt's murder contributed to 190 SL sales suffering appear over-stated.  The W121's first year of full-production was 1956 with second-season drop-offs in sales not unknown and while at least in Germany, the association with the dead courtesan may have been off-putting for the bourgeoise, without qualitative data, one really can’t say.  There was a precipitous decline in 190 SL sales in 1958 but that was the year of the worst US recession of the post-war years (1945-1973) and it was in the US most of the drop was booked; on both sides of the Atlantic, sales anyway quickly recovered.

Press

Press (pronounced pres)

(1) To act upon with steadily applied weight or force.

(2) To move by weight or force in a certain direction or into a certain position.

(3) To compress or squeeze, as to alter in shape or size.

(4) To hold closely, as in an embrace; clasp.

(5) To flatten or make smooth, especially by ironing.

(6) To extract juice, sugar, etc from by pressure.

(7) To manufacture (phonograph records, videodiscs, or the like), especially by stamping from a mold or matrix.

(8) To exert weight, force, or pressure.

(9) In weightlifting, to raise or lift, especially a specified amount of weight, in a press.

(10) To iron clothing, curtains, etc.

(11) To bear heavily, as upon the mind.

(12) To compel in another, haste, a change of opinion etc.

(13) Printed publications, especially newspapers and periodicals.  Collectively, all the media and agencies that print, broadcast, or gather and transmit news, including newspapers, newsmagazines, radio and television news bureaus, and wire services.

(14) The editorial employees, taken collectively, of these media and agencies.

(15) To force into military service.

1175-1225: From the Middle English press & presse (throng, trouble, machine for pressing) from the Old French, from presser (to press) from the Latin pressāre, frequentative of premere (past participle pressus).  In Medieval Latin it became pressa (noun use of the feminine of pressus).  The noun press (a crowd, throng, company; crowding and jostling of a throng; a massing together) emerged in the late twelfth century and was from the eleventh century Old French presse (a throng, a crush, a crowd; wine or cheese press), from the Latin pressare.  Although in the Late Old English press existed in the sense of "clothes press", etymologists believe the Middle English word is probably from French.  The general sense of an "instrument or machine by which anything is subjected to pressure" dates from the late fourteenth century and was first used to describe a "device for pressing cloth" before being extended to "devices which squeeze juice from grapes, oil from olives, cider from apples etc".  The sense of "urgency; urgent demands of affairs" emerged in the 1640s.  It subsequently proved adaptable as a technical term in sports, adopted by weightlifting in 1908 while the so-called (full-court press) defense in basketball was first recorded in 1959.  Press is a noun & verb, pressingness is a noun, pressing is a noun, verb & adjective, pressed is a verb & adjective and pressingly is an adverb; the noun plural is presses.  The now archaic verb prest was a simple past and past participle of press.

Fleet Street's last "hot-metal" press, now a permanent exhibit at National Science Museum's Science and Innovation Park, Wroughton, England.

Installed originally in the 1930s to print the Daily Mail and Evening Standard, the apparatus is some 9 metres (29½ feet) high and 9½ metres (31 feet) long, weighing 140 tonnes (154 short tons).  Given the bulk, the museum's management have good reason to make this exhibit permanent.  Although considerably more intricate than the printing presses of 500 years earlier, the operators of those would still have recognized and understood the processes and mechanisms.

The specific sense "machine for printing" was from the 1530s, extended by the 1570s to publishing houses and to publishing generally (in phrases like freedom of the press) from circa 1680 although meaning gradually shifted in early 1800s to "periodical publishing; journalism".  Newspapers collectively came to be spoken of as "the press" simply because they were printed on printing presses and the use to mean "journalists collectively" is attested from 1921 but this has faded from use with the decline in print and the preferred reference has long been “the news media”, Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) helpfully distinguishing between the news media (those agreeing with him) and the fake new media (those not).  The first gathering called a press conference is attested from 1931, though the thing itself had been around for centuries (and in some sense formalized during World War I (1914-1918)) although a politician appears first to have appointed a “press secretary” as late as 1940; prior to that there was some reluctance among politicians to admit they had people on the payroll to "manage the press" but the role long pre-dates 1940.  The term “press release” (an official statement offered to a newspaper and authorized for publication) is from 1918 although the practice was of long-standing.  The sense "force into military (especially naval) service" emerged (most famously in the “press-gang” (a detachment under command of an officer empowered to press men into public service)) in the 1570s, an alteration (by association with the verb press) of the mid-fourteenth century prest (engage by loan, pay in advance (especially in reference to money paid to a soldier or sailor on enlisting), from the Latin praestare (to stand out, stand before; fulfill, perform, provide), the construct being prae- (before) + stare (to stand), from the primitive Indo-European root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  The verb was related to praesto (ready, available).  The concept of "press ganging" to obtain men for military service is ancient but in the codified way it was done by the Royal Navy it remains the Admiralty's greatest contribution to HRM (human resource management).  

Rupert Murdoch (b 1931), Fleet Street, London, 1969.

Mr Murdoch is pictured with one of the first copies of the new The Sun newspaper, “hot off the press”, the print-run in November 1969 the first since his acquisition of the title.  Ownership of the The Sun proved handy because, after being compelled to close the long-running News of the World in the wake of the "phone hacking scandal", in 2012 Mr Murdoch created a Sunday edition of The Sun, meaning he needed to maintain only one 7-day tabloid rather than two (and the two titles were more similar than they were different); once again, following a crisis, things worked out rather well for Mr Murdoch.  It was Mr Murdoch who added the topless “Page 3 girls” to the Sun, prompting one media analyst to conclude: “Well, Rupert Murdoch has found a gap in the market, the oldest gap in the world”.

In 1969, the phrase “hot off the press” was literal because the old “hot type” presses used the heat in the hand-assembled metal plates to complete the chemical process by which ink end up on paper.  Prepared even to sustain loss-making mastheads if he thinks their continued existence fulfils some useful purpose (such as “influence” or “agenda-setting”), Mr Murdoch clearly retains some residual affection for the print titles on which he built his empire(s) but the old expression “printer's ink in his veins” now is nuanced because although his papers still consume much ink and paper, more than anyone he was responsible for the demise of the old “hot type” printing presses which had evolved over centuries.  Modern newspapers still are printed with a form of ink but, mostly using a process called web offset printing (a variant of offset lithography, optimized for speed and high throughput), that "ink" is so low in viscosity it’s better imagined as a paste.  Usually petroleum or soy-based, the substance is transferred from a metal plate to a rubber "blanket" and, as the newsprint (porous paper in continuous rolls) moves through the press, the ink is applied to the paper as shapes, text and images.  The ink’s chemistry is formulated to ensure absorption into newsprint is close to instantaneous; in this the mix differs from traditional inks which could take seconds or even minutes to dry to the point printed paper could be handled without smudging, drying now achieved almost wholly by absorption and evaporation, not heat-fusing.  To gain speed, there was a trade-off in quality in that being relatively thin, the ink produces less color saturation than is achieved by what’s used for glossy magazines (which is why newspaper images look softer or slightly grayish).  That is of course acceptable because newspapers have a short life, an idea encapsulated by the band the Rolling Stones that in 1967 sang “Who wants yesterday’s papers. Nobody in the world.” although the meaning of that track was better summed up in the line: “Who wants yesterdays girl.”

Cover girl Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) amply filling the cover of Cosmopolitan's “Love Edition”, January 2026; content providers like Ms Sweeny will help ensure the survival of at least some print titles.  A tablet computer and a printed glossy are just two different technologies and whether a magazine like Cosmopolitan or a newspaper like The Economist, reading the physical copy tends to be more pleasing, tactile experience.

However, just as Mr Murdoch was in the 1980s instrumental in consigning the old printing presses to the scrapheap (along with a substantial number of the unionized workforce previously employed to maintain and run them), he’s also seen technological advances impose not always welcome changes on his business model, some of the implications of which he discussed in 2006: “To find something comparable, you have to go back 500 years to the printing press, the birth of mass media – which, incidentally, is what really destroyed the old world of kings and aristocracies. Technology is shifting power away from the editors, the publishers, the establishment, the media elite. Now it’s the people who are taking control.”  He may have been too pessimistic because, in the 2020s, watching Mr Murdoch’s Fox News, it’s not immediately obvious the people have “taken control” and a more glum analysis suggests the elites merely have done what elites always have sought to do as conditions shift: keep the strategy, adjust the tactics.  Still, although printed newspapers no longer need to exist, nostalgic types who enjoy the ritualism of reading one spread on a table while taking a coffee (and maybe even a cigarette) will miss them when they’re gone so they at least will wish Mr Murdoch many more years of rude good health because whether the print titles will survive his (God forbid) death isn’t certain.  Despite that uncertainty, most analysts seem to believe print in its (possibly diminishing) niches will likely endure.  Some of the glossies continue to flourish and encouragingly, the pleasingly quirky automotive site Petrolicious (revived after being acquired by the duPont Registry Group in 2024) has brought back its printed, tabloid size monthly Petrolicious Post (US$9.00 cover price, US$108.00 annual subscription), the internet lowering the costs associated with such projects by permitting direct-to-customer distribution without the need to supply newsstands.

Most meanings related to pushing and exerting pressure had formed by the mid-fourteenth century and this had been extended to mean "to urge or argue for" by the 1590s.  The early fourteenth century pressen (to clasp, hold in embrace) extended in meaning by the mid century also to mean "to squeeze out" & "to cluster, gather in a crowd" and by the late 1300s, "to exert weight or force against, exert pressure" (and also "assault, assail" & "forge ahead, push one's way, move forward", again from the thirteenth century Old French presser (squeeze, press upon; torture)", from the Latin pressare (to press (the frequentative formation from pressus, past participle of premere (to press, hold fast, cover, crowd, compress), from the primitive Indo-European root per- (to strike)).  The sense of "to reduce to a particular shape or form by pressure" dates from the early fifteenth century while the figurative (“to attack”) use was recorded some decades earlier.  The meaning "to urge; beseech, argue for" dates from the 1590s.

The letter-press referred to matter printed from relief surfaces and was a term first used in the 1840s (the earlier (1771) description had been "text," as opposed to copper-plate illustration).  The noun pressman has occasionally been used to refer to newspaper journalists but in the 1590s it described "one who operates or has charge of a printing press" and was adopted after the 1610s to refer to "one employed in a wine-press".  A similar sharing of meaning attached to the pressroom which in the 1680s meant "a room where printing presses are worked" and by 1902 it was also a "room (in a courthouse, etc.) reserved for the use of reporters".  To press the flesh (shake hands) came into use in 1926 and a neglected use of “pressing” is as a form of torture.  Under a wide variety of names, pressing was a popular method of torture or execution for over four-thousand years; mostly using rocks and stones but elephants tended to be preferred in South and South-East Asia.  It’s a medieval myth that Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England 1509-1547) invented pressing but he certainly adopted it as a method of torture with his usual enthusiasm for such things.  Across the channel, under the French civil code, Peine forte et dure (forceful and hard punishment) defined pressing.  Used when a defendant refused to plead, the victim would be subjected to having heavier and heavier stones placed upon his or her chest until a plea was entered, or as the weight of the stones on the chest became too great for the subject to breathe, fatal suffocation would occur.

Pressed for time: Giles Corey's Punishment and Awful Death (1692), a drawing held by the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington DC.  Watched by a presumably approving crowd, the technique was to place stones upon the board covering the unfortunate soul: The “straw which broke the camel’s back” principle.

Remembered as a method use for torture and to extract confessions, the technique of pressing was known often as “crushing” if used in executions or the unfortunate victim of a pressing were to die.  Giles Corey was a farmer of 81 who lived in south-west Salem village, Massachusetts who had been accused of witchcraft, then a fashionable charge in Salem (despite the perception, it wasn't only women who were arraigned as witches).  He chose not to enter a plea and simply remained mute in court, prompting the judges to order the coercive measure peine forte et dure, an ancient legal device dating from thirteenth century Anglo-Norman law and which translated literally as “a long and hard punishment”; it was used to persuade those who refused to engage in process to change their mind (ie forcing an accused to enter a plea).  In the First Statute of Westminster (3 Edward I. c. 12; 1275) it stated (in Sir Edward Coke’s (1552–1634) later translation):  “That notorious Felons, which openly be of evil name, and will not put themselves in Enquests of Felonies that Men shall charge them with before the Justices at the King’s suit, shall have strong and hard Imprisonment (prisone forte et dure), as they which refuse to stand to the common Law of the Land.”

Prisone forte et dure came into use because of the principle in English law that a court required the accused voluntarily to seek its jurisdiction over a matter before it could hear the case, the accused held to have expressed this request by entering a plea.  Should an accused refuse to enter a plea, the court could not hear the case which, constructively, was an obvious abuse of process in the administration of justice so the work-around was to impose a “coercive means”.  The First Statute of Westminster however refers to prisone forte et dure (a strong and hard imprisonment) and it does seem the original intent was to subject the recalcitrant to imprisonment under especially harsh conditions (bread & water and worse) but at some point in the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries there seems to have been a bit of mission creep and the authorities were interpreting things to permit pressing.  The earliest known document confirming a death is dated 1406 but it’s clear that by then pressing was not novel with the court acknowledging that if the coercive effect was not achieved, the accused certainly would die.  One who might have been pleased the law had moved on from torturing defendants who declined to enter a plea was Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941).  Appearing before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) in the first Nuremberg Trial which heard the cases against two dozen of the surviving leading Nazis, those in the dock all pleaded "not guilty" except Hess who stood at the microphone, said "nein" (no) and walked back to his place.  Dryly, the IMT's president responded:  "That will be recorded as a plea of 'not guilty'".  There was laughter in the court.  

Pressed Duck

Caneton à la presse, Aus$190 (US$122) at Philippe Restaurant (Melbourne).

Pressed duck (In the French the dish described variously as canard à la presse, caneton à la presse, canard à la rouennaise, caneton à la rouennaise or canard au sang) is one of the set-pieces of traditional French cuisine and the rarity with which it's now served is accounted for not by its complexity but the time-consuming and labor-intensive steps in its preparation.  Regarded as a specialty of Rouen, the creation was attributed to an innkeeper from the city of Duclair.  Expensive and now really more of a set-piece event than a meal, pressed duck in the twenty-first century rarely appears on menus and is often subject to conditions such as being ordered up to 48 hours in advance or accompanied with the pre-payment of at least a deposit.  Inevitably too there will be limits on the number available because a restaurant will have only so many physical duck presses and if that’s just one, then it’s one pressed duck per sitting and, given what’s involved, that means one per evening.  Some high-end a la carte restaurants do still have it on the menu including La Tour d'Argent in Paris, Philippe Restaurant in Melbourne, Ottos in London, À L'aise in Oslo, The Charles in Sydney (a version with dry-aged Maremma duck) and Pasjoli in Los Angeles lists caneton à la presse as its signature dish.

Pressed duck sequence of events: The duck press (left), pressing the duck (centre) & pressed duck (right).

Instructions

(1) Select a young, plump duck.

(2) Wringing the neck, quickly asphyxiate duck, ensuring all blood is retained.

(3) Partially roast duck.

(4) Remove liver; grind and season liver.

(5) Remove breast and legs.

(6) Take remaining carcass (including other meat, bones, and skin) and place in duck-press.

(7) Apply pressure in press to extract and collect blood and other juices from carcass.

(8) Take extracted blood, thicken and flavor with the duck's liver, butter, and Cognac.  Combine with the breast to finish cooking.  Other ingredients that may be added to the sauce include foie gras, port wine, Madeira wine, and lemon.

(9) Slice the breast and serve with sauce as a first serving; the legs are broiled and served as the next course.

Silverplate Duck Press (Item# 31-9128) offered at M.S. Rau Antiques (Since 1912) in New Orleans at US$16,850.

According to culinary legend, the mechanism of the screw-type appliance was perfected in the late nineteenth century by chefs at the Tour d'Argent restaurant in Paris, the dish then called canard au sang (literally “duck in its blood”), a description which was accurate but presumably “pressed duck” was thought to have a wider appeal.  The example pictured is untypically ornate with exquisite foliate scrollwork and delicate honeycomb embossing on the base.  Although associated with the famous dish, outside of the serving period, chefs used duck presses for other purposes where pressing was required including the preparation of stocks or confits (various foods that have been immersed in a substance for both flavor and preservation).

Pressed duck got a mention in a gushing puff-piece extolling the virtues of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) which, in the pre-war years, was a remarkably fertile field of journalistic endeavour on both sides of the Atlantic.  William George Fitz-Gerald (circa 1970-1942) was a prolific Irish journalist who wrote under the pseudonym Ignatius Phayre and the English periodical Country Life published his account of a visit to the Berchtesgaden retreat on the invitation of his “personal friend” Adolf Hitler.  That claim was plausible because although when younger Fitz-Gerald’s writings had shown some liberal instincts, by the “difficult decade” of the 1930s, experience seems to have persuaded him the world's problems were caused by democracy and the solution was an authoritarian system, headed by what he called “the long looked for leader.”  Clearly taken by his contributor’s stance, in introducing the story, Country Life’s editor called Hitler “one of the most extraordinary geniuses of the century” and noted “the Führer is fond of painting in water-colours and is a devotee of Mozart.”

Country Life, March 1936 (both Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945)   (1893–1946) and Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946; Reichsminister of War 1935-1938) (1878–1946) were then generals and not field marshals, von Blomberg raised to the rank in April 1936, Göring in February 1938).  Göring wearing the traditional southern German Lederhosen (leather pants) must have been a sight worth seeing.

Substantially, the piece in Country Life also appeared in the journal Current History with the title: Holiday with Hitler: A Personal Friend Tells of a Personal Visit with Der Führer — with a Minimum of Personal Bias”.  In hindsight it may seem a challenge for a journalist, two years on from the regime’s well-publicized murders of a least dozens of political opponents (and some unfortunate bystanders who would now be classed as “collateral damage”) in the pre-emptive strike against the so-called “Röhm putsch”, to keep bias about the Nazis to a minimum although many in his profession did exactly that, some notoriously.  It’s doubtful Fitz-Gerald visited the Obersalzberg when claimed or that he ever met Hitler because his story is littered with minor technical errors and absurdities such as Der Führer personally welcoming him upon touching down at Berchtesgaden’s (non-existent) aerodrome or the loveliness of the cherry orchid (not a species to survive in alpine regions).  Historians have concluded the piece was assembled with a mix of plagiarism and imagination, a combination increasingly familiar since the internet encouraged its proliferation.  Still, with the author assuring his readers Hitler was really more like the English country gentlemen with which they were familiar than the frightening and ranting “messianic” figure he was so often portrayed, it’s doubtful the Germans ever considered complaining about the odd deviation from the facts and just welcomed the favourable publicity.

So, those who complain about the early implementations of consumer generative AI (artificial intelligence) products "making stuff up" to "fill in the gaps" can be assured it's something with a long (if not noble) tradition among flesh & blood content providers whether they be the Nazi Minister of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda or a working journalist hustling for a dollar.  Generative AI is likely for some time to remain in its "early implementation" phase so should be used with much the same approach as that taken by the inspection teams of the US & USSR when auditing the outcomes of various SALT (Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty) agreements: "trust but verify".  As a working journalist, Fitz-Gerald became used to editing details so he could sell essentially the same piece to several different publications, cutting & pasting as required, Current History’s subscribers spared the lengthy descriptions of the Berghof’s carpets, curtains and furniture enjoyed by Country Life’s readers who were also able to learn of the food served at der Tabellenführer, the Truite saumonée à la Monseigneur Selle (salmon trout Monseigneur style) and caneton à la presse (pressed duck) both praised although in all the many accounts of life of the court circle’s life on the Obersalzberg, there no mention of the vegetarian Hitler ever having such things on the menu.

Indeed, in Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences) and published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recalled that belying the impression of excess created by the regime’s gaudy spectacles and monumentalist architecture, there was little extravagance at Hitler’s table, fresh vegetables his single gastronomic indulgence.  Describing things, Speer wrote: “The food was emphatically simple.  A soup, no appetizer, meat with vegetables and potatoes, a sweet.  For beverage we had a choice between mineral water, ordinary Berlin bottled beer, or a cheap wine.  Hitler was served his vegetarian food, drank Fachinger mineral water, and those of his guests who wished could imitate him.  But few did.  It was Hitler himself who insisted on this simplicity.  He could count on its being talked about in Germany.  Once, when the Helgoland fishermen presented him with a gigantic lobster, this delicacy was served at table, much to the satisfaction of the guests, but Hitler made disapproving remarks about the human error of consuming such ugly monstrosities. Moreover, he wanted to have such luxuries forbidden, he declared.  Göring seldom came to these meals.  Once, when I left him to go to dinner at the Chancellery, he remarked: ‘To tell the truth, the food there is too rotten for my taste.  And then, these party dullards from Munich!  Unbearable.’"

The tabloid press: On 29 November 2006, News Corp's New York Post ran its front page with a paparazzi photo of Lindsay Lohan (b 1986), Britney Spears (b 1981) and Paris Hilton (b 1981), the snap taken outside a Los Angeles nightclub, shortly before dawn.  Remembered for the classic tabloid headline Bimbo Summit, the car was Ms Hilton's Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren (C199 (2003-2009)).

The term "tabloid press" refers to down-market style of journalism designed to enjoy wide appeal through an emphasis on scandals, sensation and sport, featuring as many celebrities as possible.  The word tabloid was originally a trademark for a medicine which had been compressed into a small tablet, the construct being tab(let) + -oid (the suffix from the Ancient Greek -ειδής (-eidḗs) & -οειδής (-oeidḗs) (the ο being the last vowel of the stem to which the suffix is attached), from εἶδος (eîdos) (form, likeness)).  From the idea of the pill being the small version of something bigger, tabloid came to be used to refer to miniaturized iterations of a variety of stuff, newspapers being the best known use.  A tabloid is a newspaper with a compact page size smaller than broadsheet but despite the name, there is no standardized size for the format but it's generally about half the size of a broadsheet.  In recent decades, economic reality has intruded on the newspaper business and there are now a number of tabloid-sized newspapers (called "compacts" to distinguish them from the less reputable) which don't descend to the level of tabloid journalism (although there has been a general lowering of standards).

The Mean Girls (2004) Burn Book (left) and Lindsay Lohan burning an “inflammatory” tabloid magazine, Lindsay Lohan: The Obsession, GQ Magazine, October 2006.

In Mean Girls, the Burn Book gained its notoriety from being packed with inflammatory comments.  In a visual critique of the tabloid press's "obsession" with her (admittedly incident-packed young) life, Lindsay Lohan in 2006 posed for a photo-shoot by Terry Richardson (b 1965) for GQ (Gentlemen's Quarterly) magazine.  Titled Lindsay Lohan: The Obsession, the theme was her as a case-study of the way the “tabloid press” handled celebrity culture, the joke being a magazine with “inflammatory content about her” being literally set aflame, the glossy paper of course being flammable.  It’s appears a consensus in the “media studies” crew this aspect of “tabloid culture” peaked in the first dozen-odd years of the twenty-first century, the reasons for that including (1) the period having an exceptionally large cast of suitable subjects, (2) smart phones with HD (high-definition) cameras becoming consumer items meaning potential content proliferated (ie what once would not have been photographed now became available to editors as low cost images) and (3) social media sites not having attained critical mass, all factors which at the time enabled the lower-end glossies to flourish.

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) As disparaging slang, a person though low, worthless, or evil (often as “scumbag” or “scumbucket”.

(4) Such persons collectively (often as “scum of the earth”).

(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, the French écume, the Spanish escuma, the Italian schiuma and the Dutch schuim.  Scum is a noun & verb, scumbag, scumbaggery, scumbagginess & scumbucket are nouns, and scumlike, scummy & scumbaggy are adjectives; the noun plural is scums.

Rendezvous: New Zealand-born cartoonist David Low's (1891-1963) famous take on the 1939 German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact.

The document usually is called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact because it was signed by comrade Vyacheslav Molotov (1890–1986; Soviet foreign minister 1939-1949 & 1953-1956) and Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945).  To illustrate the pact's cynical nature, Low depicted Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945, left) exchanging artificial pleasantries with comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953, right) both knowing it was only a matter of time before their nations would be at war.  Although Low at the time couldn't have known it, comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) was not unaware of public opinion and when presented with the pact's draft text, 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.  Sensational as news of the pact was in 1939, what became more notorious still was the appended "secret protocol" which defined the line of delineation by which Poland would be "carved-up" between Germany and the USSR after the German invasion.  Because of geography and demographic reality, the line on the map was remarkably close to the Curzon Line, first proposed in 1919 by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; Viceroy of India 1899-1905 & UK Foreign Secretary 1919-1924) as the border between Soviet Russia and a reconstituted Poland.

Cautiously, comrade Stalin waited a couple of weeks to ensure the German victory was secure before sending the Red Army over the border, an act the Poles would remember as "a stab in the back".  The defense counsel at the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) obtained a copy of the secret protocol and attempted to have it introduced as evidence but the judges denied the motion, the compromise being it could be referred to but the contents could not be discussed.  The irony of two Soviet judges dealing with the charges of a conspiracy to wage aggressive war (Count 1) and waging aggressive war (Count 2) when knowledge of the secret protocol (a conspiracy to invade Poland) was afoot attracted much comment.  One unmoved by the perception of cynicism was comrade Stalin for whom all politics was realpolitik.  At the Yalta Conference in February 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually would refer to “the Curzon Line” and the UK foreign secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed the more common practice was to call it “the Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  “Call it whatever you like” replied Stalin, “we still think it's fair and just”.  Rarely did comrade Stalin much care to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.      

 

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

S.C.U.M. Manifesto (post shooting, 1968 paperback 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 both feminism’s purest and most uncompromising work and 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 planet Earth.  The internal logic was perfect.

As well as the Society for Cutting Up Men, Acronym Finder’s list of the use of SCUM as an acronym includes (1) Subculture Urban Marketing, (2) Santa Clara United Methodist, (3) Sensitive Caring Urban Male (though being one of those wouldn’t save them and they’re as likely (after ordering their Venti Iced Caramel Macchiato with almond milk and an extra shot of espresso) as a (4) Self-Centered Urban Male to get Solanas’ “six-inch blade” between the ribs), (5) Southern California Unified Malacologists (malacology is the study of molluscs), (6) South Coast United Motorcyclist and (7) Socialist Cover-Up Media (how Fox News and those in the MAGA (Make America Great Again) cult think of the “fake news media).

The use of Scum 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; dubbing 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 amid 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 Mr 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 it being "well-typed") but because he’d “misplaced” the manuscript (it was later discovered in a trunk) Solanas concluded that was just a trick and he was going to steal 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 which was at the time 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 aims to begin “working diligently to eliminate themselves.”)  As offers go, it really wasn't compelling.

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 the label "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 but “sample” was not yet a thing) and rebrand 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 (as collateral damage) received minor injuries); Warhol was declared dead but paramedics arrived to stabilize 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".  

  

A (fake) montage of Lindsay Lohan as Andy Warhol (1928–1987) might have rendered.  Ms Lohan was not yet 12 months old when Warhol died (the start of her modeling career still two years off) but had he lived another two decades he'd almost certainly have painted her.

Ms Solanas' infamy lasted beyond fifteen minutes and one unintended consequence of her act was the S.C.U.M. Manifesto finally finding a commercial publisher, thus becoming what is publishing is known as succès de scandale (a work which owes its success or very existence to some notoriety or scandalous element).  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) or 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.  Although one suspects among women the "all men are bastards" school of thought is ancient, the noun "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).

Cause and effect: The (attempted) murder weapon (Beretta M1935 automatic in .32ACP, left) and Warhol's post-operative torso (right).

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 etc) can match many larger loads in “stopping power”.  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 murderous types and focusing on business, in 1969 founding what in 1969 became Interview magazine.  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.”