Legion

Legion (pronounced lee-juhn)

(1) In the army of Ancient Rome, a military formation which numbered between 3000-6000 soldiers, made up of infantry with supporting cavalry.

(2) A description applied to some large military and paramilitary forces.

(3) Any great number of things or (especially) as persons; a multitude; very great in number (usually postpositive).

(4) A description applied to some associations of ex-servicemen (usually initial capital).

(5) In biology, a taxonomic rank; a group of orders inferior to a class; in scientific classification, a term occasionally used to express an assemblage of objects intermediate between an order and a class.

1175–1225: From the Middle English legi(o)un, from the Old French legion (squad, band, company, Roman military unit), from the Latin legiōnem & legiōn- (nominative legiō) (picked body of soldiers; a levy of troops), the construct being leg(ere) (to gather, choose, read; pick out, select), from the primitive Indo-European root leg- (to gather; to collect) + -iōn   The suffix –ion was from the Middle English -ioun, from the Old French -ion, from the Latin -iō (genitive iōnis).  It was appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process.  Legion & legionry are nouns, adjective & verb and legionnaire & legionary are nouns; the noun plural is legions.

The generalized sense of "a large number of persons" emerged circa 1300 as a consequence of its use of legion in some translations of the Bible (my name is Legion: for we are many (Mark 5:9; King James Version (KJV, 1611)).  It was used to describe various European military formations since the 1590s and had been applied to some associations of ex-servicemen since the American Legion was established in 1919.  The French légion d'honneur (Legion of Honor) is an order of distinction founded by Napoleon in 1802, the légion étrangère (French Foreign Legion) was originally a unit of the French army officially made up of foreign volunteers (Polish, Belgian etc) which traditionally served in colonies or on distant expeditions although French nations soon appeared in Foreign Legion colours “for a number of reasons”.  The noun legionnaire from the French légionnaire dates from 1818.  The most famous modern association is Legionnaires' Disease, caused by Legionella pneumophilia, named after the lethal outbreak in July 1976 at the American Legion convention in Philadelphia's Bellevue Stratford Hotel, Legionella thus becoming the name of the bacterium.  The cause of the outbreak was traced to water used in the building’s air-conditioning systems.

The Bellevue Stratford and Legionella pneumophilia

The origin of Legionnaires’ disease (Legionella pneumophilia) was in the bacterium resident in the air-conditioning cooling towers of the Bellevue Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia which in July 1976 was hosting the Bicentennial convention of the American Legion, an association of service veterans; the bacterium was subsequently named Legionella.

The Bellevue-Stratford Hotel, 1905.

The Legionella bacterium occurs naturally and there had before been outbreaks of what came to be called Legionella pneumophilia,(a pneumonia-like condition) most notably in 1968 but what made the 1976 event different was the scale and severity which attracted investigation and a review of the records which suggested the first known case in the United States dated from 1957.  Like HIV/AIDS, it was only when critical mass was reached that it became identified as something specific and there’s little doubt there may have been instances of Legionella pneumophilia for decades or even centuries prior to 1957.  The increasing instance of the condition in the late twentieth century is most associated with the growth in deployment of a particular vector of transmission: large, distributed air-conditioning systems.  Until the Philadelphia outbreak, the cleaning routines required to maintain these systems wasn’t well-understood and indeed, the 1976 event wasn’t even the first time the Bellevue Stratford had been the source two years earlier when it was the site of a meeting of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows but in that case, fewer than two-dozen were infected and only two fatalities whereas over two-hundred Legionnaires became ill thirty-four died.  Had the 1976 outbreak claimed only a handful, it’s quite likely it too would have passed unnoticed.

Winter Evening, Bellevue-Stratford Hotel, circa 1910 by Charles Cushing (b 1959).

That the 1976 outbreak was on the scale it was certainly affected the Bellevue-Stratford.  Built in the Philadelphia CBD on the corner of Broad and Walnut Streets in 1904, it was enlarged in 1912 and, at the time, was among the most impressive and luxurious hotels in the world.  Noted especially for a splendid ballroom and the fine fittings in its thousand-odd guest rooms, it instantly became the city’s leading hotel and a centre for the cultural and social interactions of its richer citizens.  Its eminence continued until during the depression of the 1930s, it suffered the fate of many institutions associated with wealth and conspicuous consumption, its elaborate form not appropriate in a more austere age.  As business suffered, the lack of revenue meant it was no longer possible to maintain the building and the tarnish began to overtake the glittering structure.

The Bellevue Hotel Ballroom.

Although the ostentation of old never quite returned, in the post-war years, the Bellevue-Stratford did continue to operate as a profitable hotel until an international notoriety was gained in July 1976 with the outbreak of the disease which would afflict over two-hundred and, ultimately, strike down almost three dozen of the conventioneers who had been guests.  Once the association with the hotel’s air-conditioning became known, bookings plummeted precipitously and before the year was out, the Stratford ceased operations although there was a nod to the architectural significance, the now deserted building was in 1977 listed on the US National Register of Historic Places.

The Bellevue Hotel XIX Restaurant.

The lure of past glories was however strong and in 1978-1979, after being sold, a programme described as a restoration rather than a refurbishment was undertaken, reputedly costing a then impressive US$25 million, the press releases at the time emphasizing the attention devoted to the air-conditioning system.  The guest rooms were entirely re-created, the re-configuration of the floors reducing their number to under six-hundred and the public areas were restored to their original appearance.  However, for a number of reasons, business never reached the projected volume and not in one year since re-opening did the place prove profitable, the long-delayed but inevitable closure finally happening in March 1986.

The Bellevue Hotel Lobby.

But, either because or in spite of the building being listed as a historic place, it still attracted interest and, after being bought at a knock-down price, another re-configuration was commenced, this time to convert it to the now fashionable multi-function space, a mix of retail, hotel and office space, now with the inevitable fitness centre and food court.  Tellingly, the number of hotel rooms was reduced fewer than two-hundred but even this proved a challenge for operators profitably to run and in 1996, Hyatt took over.  Hyatt, although for internal reasons shuffling the property within their divisions and rebranding it to avoid any reference to the now troublesome Stratford name, benefited from the decision by the city administration to re-locate Philadelphia’s convention centre from the outskirts to the centre and, like other hotels in the region, enjoyed a notable, and profitable, increase in demand.  It’s now called simply: The Bellevue Hotel.

The Bellevue Hotel.

Understandably, the Bellevue’s page on Hyatt’s website, although discussing some aspects of the building’s history such as having enjoyed a visit from every president since Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) and the exquisitely intricate lighting system designed by Thomas Edison (1847-1931) himself, neglects even to allude to the two outbreaks of Legionnaires’ disease in the 1970s, the sale in 1976 noted on the time-line without comment.  In a nice touch, guests may check in with up to two dogs, provided they don't exceed the weight limit 50 lb (22.67 kg) pounds individually or 75 lb (34 kg) combined.  Part of the deal includes a “Dog on Vacation” sign which will be provided when registering; it's to hang on the doorknob so staff know what's inside and there's a dog run at Seger Park, a green space about a ½ mile (¾ km) from the hotel.  Three days notice is required if staying with one or two dogs and, if on a leash, they can tour the Bellevue's halls but they're not allowed on either the ballroom level or the 19^th floor where the XIX restaurant is located.  A cleaning fee (US$100) is added for stays of up to six nights, with an additional deep-cleaning charge applicable for 7-30 nights.

Lindsay Lohan with some of the legion of paparazzi who, despite technical progress which has disrupted the primacy of their role as content providers in the celebrity ecosystem, remain still significant players in what is a symbiotic process.

Cadillac advertising, 1958.

Cadillac in 1958 knew their buyer profile and their agency’s choice of the Bellevue Stafford as a backdrop reflected this.  They knew also to whom they were talking, thus the copywriters coming up with: “Not long after a motorist takes delivery of his new Cadillac, he discovers that the car introduces him in a unique manner.  Its new beauty and elegance, for instance, speak eloquently of his taste and judgment.  Its new Fleetwood luxury indicates his consideration for his passengers.  And its association with the world’s leading citizens acknowledges his standing in the world of affairs.”  That’s just how things were but as the small-print (bottom left of image) suggest, women did have their place as Cadillac accessories, a number of them in the photograph to look decorative in their “gowns by Nan Duskin”.  Lithuania-born Nan Duskin Lincoln (1893-1980) in 1926 opened her eponymous fashion store on the corner of 18^th & Sansom Streets and enjoyed such success she was soon able to purchase three buildings on Walnut Stereet which she converted into her flagship and for years it was an internationally-renowned fashion mecca.  Ms Duskin was unusual in that despite have never been educated beyond the sixth grade, she was an advocate for fashion being taught at universities and while that may not seem revolutionary in an age when it’s probably possible to take a post-graduate degree in basket weaving, it was at the time a novel idea.  She worked as a lecturer in design and criticism at Drexel University, the institution later establishing the Nan Duskin Laboratory of Costume Design.  It was said of Ms Duskin that when she selected a wedding dress for brides-to-be, almost invariably they were delighted by the suggestion though she would lament the young ladies were not always so successful in their choice of grooms.

Nan Duskin brochure, 1942; While fashions change, slenderness never goes out of style and these designs are classic examples of “timeless lines”.  Presumably, this brochure was printed prior to the imposition of wartime restrictions which resulted in such material being restricted to single color, printed on low-quality newsprint. 

Responsible for bringing to Philadelphia the work of some European couture houses sometimes then not seen even in New York, there was nobody more responsible for establishing the city as a leading centre of fashion before her semi-retirement in 1958 when she sold her three stores to the Dietrich Foundation.  Unashamedly elitist and catering only to the top-end of the market (rather like Cadillac in the 1950s), her stores operated more like salons than retail outlets and while things for a while continued in that vein after 1958, the world was changing and while the “best labels” continued to be stocked, the uniqueness gradually was dissipated until it was really just another store, little different from the many which had sought to emulate the model.  In 1994, Nan Duskin filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy (which enables to troubled companies to continue trading while re-structuring) but the damage was done and in 1995 the businesses were closed.  Nothing lasts forever and it’s tempting to draw a comparison with the way Cadillac “lost its way” during the 1980s & 1990s.

Pheasant

Pheasant (pronounced fez-uhnt)

(1) Any of various long-tailed gallinaceous birds of the family Phasianidae, especially Phasianus colchicus (ring-necked pheasant), having a brightly-coloured plumage in the male: native to Asia but now widely dispersed.

(2) Any of various other gallinaceous birds of the family Phasianidae, including the quails and partridges

(3) Any of several other gallinaceous birds, especially the ruffed grouse.

(4) The meat of such a bird, served as food.

1250–1300: From the Middle English fesaunt & fesant, from the Anglo-French fesaunt, from the Old French fesan, from the Latin phāsiānus, from the Ancient Greek φᾱσιανός (phāsiānós órnis) (Phasian bird; bird of the river Φᾶσις (Phâsis (in Colchis in the Caucauses were the birds existed in prolific number)), named after the River Phasis, in which flows into the Black Sea at Colchis in the Caucauses.  It replaced the native Old English wōrhana, a variant of mōrhana.  The ph- from the Greek was restored in English by the late fourteenth century while the wholly unetymological -t exists because of confusion with –ant (a suffix of nouns, formed from present participle of verbs in first Latin conjugation (ancient, pageant, tyrant, peasant; also talaunt, a former Middle English variant of talon, etc.).  The Latin was the source also of the Spanish faisan, the Portuguese feisão, the German Fasan and the Russian bazhantu; the Welsh was ffesant and the Cornish fesont.  In England, Pheasant was used as surname from the mid-twelfth century (and assumed occupational (pheasant farmer)).  The form in the Medieval Latin was fasianus.  A pheasantry is a place for keeping and rearing pheasants and the most common collective noun for a group of pheasants is bevy (less commonly a bouquet (when flushed), or nye.  Pheasant & pheasantry are nouns, pheasantless & pheasantlike are adjectives; the noun plural is pheasants.

The golden pheasants

Chrysolophus pictus (the golden pheasant or Chinese pheasant).

There are more than two dozen taxonomic species within the family Phasianidae (pheasants), one of which is the golden pheasant (Chrysolophus pictus, known also as the “Chinese pheasant”), a game bird native to the forests of mountainous areas of western China.  The plumage of the males is famously vibrant which makes it a favorite among bird watchers and photographers while the female is a duller-mottled brown plumage, something common among many avian species including the peacock & peahen, the evolutionary advantage being the fine camouflage it afforded against the forest floor.

Nazi Kreisleiter (District Leader) standard four pocket open collar tunic (circa 1940).  The party’s regulations about uniforms first appeared in 1920 and the details were often revised until things were standardized in 1939.

In the Third Reich (1933-1945) the term Goldfasane (golden pheasants) was a derisive nickname used of high-ranking members of the Nazi Party (and their wives), the name an allusion to (1) the golden hue of the fabric of the party uniform, (2) their tendency to appear well fed (al la a plump pheasant fattened for slaughter) at a time when much of the population was living under food rationing and (3) their ostentation and self-importance (likened to a colorful and strutting pheasant).  That brown became the "official" color of the party  wasn't a kind of proto-1970s fashion choice.  When Germany lost its African and tropical Pacific colonies after World War I (1914-1948), a huge stock of khaki uniforms and other kit became available as "army-surplus" and these the party purchased at low cost.  As time progressed and the uniforms came to be tailored, as a general principle, the more exalted the office, the more golden the shade of fabric used for the garb.  Even the party headquarters in Munich became known as the Braunes Haus (Brown House) and the symbolism of its destruction in 1943 by Allied bombing wasn't lost on the local population although the British, even then sensitive to criticism of "area bombing" of civilian targets, made little attempt to exploit the success for propaganda purposes.  On the site of the long-demolished Braunes Haus, the Bavarian government in 2015 opened the NS-Dokumentationszentrum (NSDOKU, the Munich Documentation Centre for the History of National Socialism), a  museum with a focus on the history and consequences of the National Socialist (Nazi) regime and the role of Munich as its Hauptstadt der Bewegung (capital of the movement).  

Portrait of Auguste Escoffier.

The decoration is the Ordre national de la Légion d'honneur (National Order of the Legion of Honour, France’s highest order of merit, awarded to both civilians and the military.  It was established in 1802 by Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815)).  In the internal logic of French culture it was a wholly appropriate honor for a chef though to the south not all would have approved: Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) had expressed his disgust at the decadence of the modern Italian people, believing they had been seduced by French ways into “elevating cooking to the status of high art”, declaring he would never allow Italy to descend to the level of France, a country ruined by “alcohol, syphilis and journalism”.

The Brigade de cuisine (kitchen brigade) was a hierarchical organizational chart for commercial kitchens, codified from earlier practices by French chef, Georges-Auguste Escoffier (1846–1935) who, following his service in the French army, had refined and codified the the kitchen structure which had existed since the fourteenth century.  The military-type chain-of-command became formalized but what was novel was what he dubbed the chef de partie system, an organizational model based on sections which were both geographically and functionally defined.  His design was intended to avoid duplication of effort and facilitate communication.  The economic realities of technological innovation, out-sourcing to external supply chains and the changing ratio of labour costs to revenue have meant even the largest modern kitchens now use a truncated version of the Escoffien system although the sectional chef de partie structure remains.  In the pre-modern era, Escoffier’s idealized structure was adopted only in the largest of exclusive establishments or the grandest of cruise liners and, like the Edwardian household, is a footnote in sociological, organizational and economic history.  In the late 1870s, after army service of some seven years, Monsieur Escoffier opened his own restaurant in Cannes.  It was called Le Faisan d'Or (The Golden Pheasant).

Kiji-shō (きじ章; Order of the Golden Pheasant).

There is also the Golden Pheasant Award (きじ章 (kiji-shō) or 金鳳賞 (Kinpōshō)), the highest award for adult leaders in the Scout Association of Japan and although it was first conferred in 1952, there’s no record of whether the earlier sardonic German slang was discussed when deciding on a name.  Officially awarded by the Chief Scout of Japan, recipients are chosen by a selection committee (an institution at which the Japanese excel) on the basis of their eminent achievement and meritorious service to the Association for a period of at least twenty years.  Most awards have been granted to Japanese citizens but the distinction may be granted to any member of a scout association affiliated with the World Organization of the Scout Movement (WOSM).  The golden pheasant has symbolic significance in Japanese culture, where pheasants (particularly the green pheasant (Phasianus versicolor), Japan's national bird) have been revered for their grace and connection to nature and they convey an aura of prestige and distinction due to the majestic appearance.  The award consists of a medallion depicting a stylized golden pheasant, suspended from a white ribbon with two red stripes worn around the neck.  The attendant uniform ribbon (worn above the left breast pocket), consists of two red stripes on a white background with a 5 mm golden device of the Japanese scout emblem.

Lindsay Lohan with an honorary Order of the Golden Pheasant.  (Digitally altered image from Flaunt Issue 195, November 2024, original photograph by the Morelli Brothers).

It is of course a great honor to join the exclusive club of those with a Golden Pheasant but the evidence does suggest it’s something of a kiss of political death for those statesmen (Golden Pheasants a male thing) so dubbed, their careers ending often not well.  Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) was awarded his in 1953 during a visit to Japan while VPOTUS (vice-president of the US (an office he held 1953-1961), the brief ceremony conducted in Tokyo after his luncheon address to the America-Japan Society.  In 1974, Mr Nixon was forced to resign the presidency after revelations of his conduct during the Watergate Scandal.

Mohammed Reza Pahlavi (1919–1980; the last Shah of Iran 1941-1979) gained his Golden Pheasant in 1957.  In 1979 he was overthrown in the revolution which brought to power Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1900-1989; Supreme Leader, Islamic Republic of Iran, 1979-1989) and the establishment of the Islamic Republic.  Also honored in the same year was Sir Walter Nash (1882–1968; prime-minister of New Zealand 1957-1960); he lost the 1960 general election and never regained power.  A royal recipient was Constantine II (1940–2023; the last King of Greece 1964-1973) who was honored upon assuming the throne in 1964.  Constantine was forced into exile after a military putsch in 1967 (the so-called “Colonels' Coup”) and the monarchy was abolished in 1973, something confirmed by two subsequent referenda (1973 & 1974).

Golden Pheasant aspirant: A Japanese scout pack leader (left) with his pack of cub scouts, circa 1964.

Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977) was in 1974 created a Golden Pheasant (while VPOTUS) and he went on to lose the 1976 presidential election.  He did however have the satisfaction of knowing not only did the man who beat him (Jimmy Carter (b 1924; US President 1977-1981)) never become a Golden Pheasant, but also turned out to be “a bit of a turkey”.  Paras Bir Bikram Shahdev (b 1971; last Crown Prince of Nepal, heir apparent to the throne 2001-2008) became a Golden Pheasant in 2005.  In 2001, there was what is now an uncommon act of regicide known as the Durbar Hatyakanda (Nepalese royal massacre) which was actually a family squabble, the assassin of nine members of the dynasty (including the king & queen) being Crown Prince Dipendra (1971-2001) who, by virtue of the constitutional arrangements, for three days reigned while in a coma before succumbing to a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  Subsequently, there was a peaceful transition to a republic and in 2008 the world’s last Hindu monarchy was abolished.  Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989) was the last POTUS to become a recipient and his second term was tainted by Iran-Contragate affair.  Given the history, it may be the State Department has instructed the ambassador to Tokyo quietly to inform the chief scout presidents prefer not to become Golden Pheasants and perhaps a gift like a ceremonial woggle would be more appropriate.

Yoshirō Mori san OGP (centre) meeting the official mascots (boy in blue, girl in pink) for the Tokyo 2020 Olympics and Paralympics, Tokyo, 2018.  While serving as president of the Tokyo 2020 organizing committee, an international human rights advocacy group awarded him a “gold medal” for sexism after he complained women members of the committee “talked too much” due to their “strong sense of rivalry”: “If one says something, they all end up saying something.”

Yoshirō Mori (森 喜朗, Mori Yoshirō san, b 1937; prime minister of Japan 2000-2001) actually anticipated the “curse of the Golden Pheasant” leaving office after a gaff-prone two year term some time before he gained the award in 2003.  Mori san was notable for his consistently low approval ratings while prime-minister and most public opinion polls towards the end of his tenure hovered between 7-12% of Japanese voters having a positive view of his premiership.  However, one newspaper published a poll which reported he had a zero (0%) rating, believed to be the lowest suffered by any politician since polling became (more-or-less) scientific in the 1940s.  It can’t have been much fun for Mori san at breakfast; he’d have just started to enjoy his gohan (steamed rice), misoshiru (miso soup) yakizakana (grilled fish), tsukemono (pickled vegetables), tamagoyaki (rolled omelette) and ryokucha (green tea), only to open the morning paper and find out nobody in the country liked him.  Still, as a consolation, Mori san has his Golden Pheasant.

Pheasant wars: A golden pheasant and a Lady Amherst's pheasant contesting occupancy of a rock.

Pheasant Plucking

The pheasant features in a favorite schoolboy rhyme, said to have origins in an eighteenth century English village where it was composed by Elias, a wandering bard performing at one of the hamlet's “grand pheasant festivals”; he’d been much impressed by the efficient and rhythmic plucking of pheasants by champion pheasant plucker Tom Fletcher.  Whether or not that story is true isn’t known but it (and other variations) is a common tale.  In its modern form the tongue-twister appears usually as:

I'm not the pheasant plucker,
I'm only the pheasant plucker's son,
But I'll keep on plucking pheasants
'Till the pheasant plucker comes.

The verse was soon as much a part of the festivals as the pheasant plucking proper and was popular drinking game, those making a mistake during a recital having to drink a pint of ale before having another attempt.  The extended version read:

I'm not a pheasant plucker,
I'm a pheasant plucker's mate,
And I'm only plucking pheasants
'cause the pheasant plucker's late.
 
Plucking pheasants is a pleasure
when the pheasant plucker's near,
But when pheasants pluck at pheasants,
then the plucking's rather queer.
 
So, if I'm plucking pheasants,
where the pleasant pheasants roam,
I'll pluck enough for supper
till the pheasant plucker's home.
 
And when the pheasant plucker comes,
we'll pluck them side by side,
Through pleasant plains and pheasant fields
where pheasants love to hide.

Dubiety

Dubiety (pronounced doo-bahy-i-tee or dyoo-bahy-i-tee)

(1) Doubtfulness; doubt; the state of being doubtful.

(2) A matter of doubt; a doubtful matter; a particular instance of doubt or uncertainty.

1740s: From the Late Latin dubietās (doubt; uncertainty), a dissimilation of dubiitās, the construct being dubi(us)  (vacillating, fluctuating (and figuratively “wavering in opinion, doubting”) + -etās  (the noun suffix, a variant of -itās (after vocalic stems)).  The earlier form dubiosity was in use by the 1640s and dubiousness had emerged within a decade; for whatever reason, “dubiety” declined while “dubious” flourished and endures to this day.  Dubiety, dubitation, dubiosity & dubitability are nouns, dubitable is an adjective and dubitably is an adverb; the noun plural is dubieties.

Dubiety is one of those words which has become vanishingly rare while its antonym forms (indubitably, indubitable, indubitability, indubitableness, indubitability, indubitation, indubiosity) meaning “clearly true; providing no possibility of doubt; In a manner that leaves no possibility of doubt; undoubtedly) have survived in a niche, that being a deliberately humorous interjection (although, used unwisely, it tends to be thought pretentious).  The most common form is the adverb “indubitably” a word in use since the early seventeenth century and it differs from other jocular coinings in that it was wholly organic, unlike “combobulate” and “gruntle” which were respectively nineteenth & twentieth century back-formations from discombobulate (itself fanciful) & disgruntled (although “gruntle” had a long history in another context). 

Henry Fowler’s list of working & stylish words.

The synonyms of dubiety include “scepticism, mistrust, distrust & suspicion”, all in common use and all vested with the helpful virtue of being understood buy most, a quality not enjoyed by dubiety.  Still, the word in there to be used and it adds variety so all who put themselves through reading literary novels might meet it.  So those after a certain style might find it handy but not all are amused by such stylishness.  The stern Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) included an entry which listed examples of “working & stylish words” which opened with the passage: “No one, unless he has happened upon this article at a very early stage of his acquaintance with this book, will suppose that the word “stylish” is meant to be laudatory.”  He went on to say there was a place for such forms “…when they are used in certain senses…” but made it clear that for most purposes the plain, simple “working word” is the better choice.  He offered the example of “deem” which in law has a precise and well understood meaning so is there essential but it’s just an attempt at stylishness if used as a substitute for “think”.  Other victims of his disapproving eye included “viable” which he judged quite proper in the papers of biologists describing newly formed organisms but otherwise a clumsy way of trying to assert something was “practicable” and “dwell” & “perchance” which appeared usually as “…conspicuous, like and escaped canary among the sparrows.”  Henry Fowler liked stylish phrases but preferred plain words.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

Fowler completed his text by 1925 and things have since changed, some of the “stylish” cohort seemingly having become “working” words, possibly under the influence of the use in computing and other technologies, their once specialized sense migrating into general use because the lexicon of those industries became so common.  Although he died twenty years before the first appeared, one suspects he’d not have found Ferraris “stylish” and would probably have called them “flashy” (in the sense of “vulgar ostentation” rather than “sparkling or brilliant”); dating from the mid sixteenth century, “flashy” would seem to have a suitably venerable lineage.

Fuselage

Fuselage pronounced fyoo-suh-lahzh, fyoo-suh-lij, fyoo-zuh-lahzh or fyoo-suh-lahzh)

(1) In aeronautical design, the complete central structure of an airplane, to which are attached the wings (or rotors), tail and other stabilizing fins or surfaces (engines sometimes also directly attached or enclosed).  It is inside the fuselage where the crew, passengers, cargo and most internals systems are located.

(2) In design, a style which borrows from or alludes to the elements used in aircraft fuselages.

(3) By extension, the main body of an aerospace vehicle

1909 (In English): From the French fuselage, the construct being fusel(é) (spindle-shaped), from fuseler (to shape like a spindle), from the Old French fus or fuseau (spindle), from the Latin fusus (spindle) + -age.  The French suffix -age was from the Middle & Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum, (greatly) extended from words like rivage and voyage.  It was used usually to form nouns with the sense of (1) "action or result of Xing" or (more rarely), "action related to X" or (2) "state of being (a or an) X".  A less common use was the formation of collective nouns.  Historically, there were many applications (family relationships, locations etc) but use has long tended to be restricted to the sense of "action of Xing".  Many older terms now have little to no connection with their most common modern uses, something particularly notable of those descended from actual Latin words (fromage, voyage etc).  In English, the suffix -age was from the Middle English -age, from the Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum.  Cognates include the French -age, the Italian -aggio, the Portuguese -agem, the Spanish -aje & Romanian -aj.  It was used to form nouns (1) with the sense of collection or appurtenance, (2) indicating a process, action, or a result, (3) of a state or relationship, (4) indicating a place, (5) indicating a charge, toll, or fee, (6) indicating a rate & (7) of a unit of measure.  Fuselage is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is fuselages.

Many languages also borrowed fuselage but there were sometimes variations in spelling including in Catalan (fuselatge), Portuguese (fuselagem), Spanish (fuselaje), Russian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)), Kazakh (füzeläj (фюзеляж)) and Ukrainian (fjuzeljáž (фюзеля́ж)).  It’s not clear when “fuselage” was first used in English, the earliest known reference dating from 1909 but it’s not improbable the word had earlier been in oral use.  The alternative was presumably “hull” (the body or frame of shop, boat or other such vessel).  Hull was from the Middle English hul, hulle & holle (seed covering, hull of a ship), from the Old English hulu (seed covering), from the Proto-Germanic hul- (and related to the Dutch hul (hood) and the German Hülle & Hülse (cover, veil)), and may have been from either the primitive Indo-European forms ḱel- (to cover, hide) or kal- (hard).  Hull came into wide use in aircraft design when “flying boats” were developed.

Flying boats: Short S.25 Sunderland (1938-1946) (left) and Dornier Do X (1929-1932) (right). 

Most aeroplanes have fuselages; flying boats have hulls, a tribute to the nautical part of their hybrid origin.  Commercially, flying boats were widely used during the inter-war years because of their range and, needing only a suitable body of water (sea, lake, river), their ability to operate in regions without suitable aerodromes.  A vital military machine during World War II (1939-1945), the advances in aircraft design during that conflict, coupled with the proliferation of airstrip construction able to be re-purposed for civil use doomed them for all but some specialist uses.  Quickly they almost vanished from European and (most) North American skies and waterways, enduring in the Far East only until infrastructure there too was improved.

The fuselage can be optional: Dunne D.5 (1908) (left), Northrop YB-49 prototype (1947) (centre) and Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (1989) (right).

In the early days of aviation, before even an airplane had flown the English Channel, designers had been intrigued when their slide-rule calculations suggested the optimal shape of a flying machine was a "flying wing" with no conventional fuselage and certainly no tail-plane apparatus.  Tests of scale models in primitive wind tunnels proved the math was substantially correct and proof of concept tests using an unpowered glider proved inconclusive, it being clear only a powered flight would demonstrate if such a design could achieve stable flight.  When tested, the designer admitted an early, under-powered, version was "more a hopper than a flyer" but when fitted with more powerful engines, the "flying wings" proved remarkably stable.  However, more conventional designs proved more suitable for military use and that, increasingly was where the source of funding was to be found.  Despite that, the idea continued to fascinate designers and a flying wing was one of the extraordinary range of experimental aircraft under development in Nazi Germany during World War II, most of which never made any contribution to the Luftwaffe's war effort.  In the US, Northrop built both propeller and jet-powered prototypes in the 1940s and after early difficulties, a stable platform emerged although, like most designs, it both offered advantages and imposed restrictions but the whole project was cancelled; ever since some have argued this was due to political influence while others claim the flaws in the concept were so fundamental they couldn't be fixed.  The Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit (in service with the US Air Force (USAF) until at least 2034) is a modified version of a flying wing in that its really a variation of a delta with an integrated fuselage.

Ascending the stairs: Lindsay Lohan entering a fuselage, Mykonos, Greece, August 2016.

In the early days of aviation during the twentieth century’s first decade, French engineers and inventors were the most innovative on the planet and this is reflected in the world-wide adoption of many French terms for some of the bits and pieces which continue to be used.  English, rarely inclined to create a new word if there was a manageable one in some other language which could be absorbed (“borrowed” still the term etymologists, strangely perhaps, prefer) and the French words which formed the basis of the early lexicon of aviation are a particular example of technological determinism in language.  Other orthodox terms in aviation include:

Aileron: A hinged flight-control surface usually attached to the trailing edge of each wing and used to change the roll (ie cause fuselage to begin rotation).  Although the word “flaps” is commonly used of ailerons, the flaps are usually positioned closer to the fuselage and are used to increase or reduce lift & drag.  The flap-like devices mounted on the trailing edges of the vertical stabilizers (somewhere in the tail-section) are properly called “elevators”.  Aileron was a diminutive of aile (wing) and before powered flight (flying machines) had been used in ornithology to refer to the extremities of a bird's wings used to control their flight.  There is an entry in a French-English dictionary dating from 1877 (with the lead meaning: “small wing”) and in the context of the language of aviation, the earliest known use in entry in French technical literature is from 1908.

Empennage: The tail assembly of an aircraft, including the horizontal and vertical stabilizers, elevators, and rudder. Empennage was from the French empenner (to feather an arrow).

Chassis: This was the original term used in English to describe the framework of an aircraft but soon was replaced by "frame, structure etc"), presumably because of the association with the heavy steel constructions used in cars and trucks, things far removed from the lightweight designs needed in the air.  Chassis was from the French chassis (frame, supporting structure), from châsse (reliquary; coffin), from the Latin capsa (case).

Concours d'Elegance: Not strictly an aviation term and most associated with affairs like those in Pebble Beach where rows of vintage Bentleys, Ferraris and such (the latter always in a much better state of finish than when they left the factory) are judged for their closeness to perfection.  Although not strictly a term from aviation, there are such events for old aircraft.  Concours d'Elegance was from the French concours d'élégance (competition of elegance).

Pilot: Pilot was from the Middle French pilot & pillot, from the Italian pilota & piloto, (pedotta, pedot & pedotto the older forms), the pil- element probably influenced by pileggiare (to sail, navigate), ultimately from the unattested Byzantine Greek *πηδώτης (pēdṓtēs) (helmsman), from the Ancient Greek πηδόν (pēdón) (blade of an oar, oar) (the the Ancient and Modern Greek πηδάλιον (pēdálion) (rudder).  Familiar from nautical use, pilot was a straight borrowing for the person fulfilling the same function in the air.  The construct of pilotage was pilot + -age.

Canard: A type of aircraft configuration where the tail-plane is ahead of the main lifting surfaces.  In aviation, a canard is either (1) a type of aircraft in which the primary horizontal control and stabilization surfaces are in front of the main wing or (2) a horizontal control and stabilization surface located in front of the main wing of an aircraft (a fore-plane).  In just about any form of engineering involving movement and fluid dynamics (air, plasma, water etc), a canard is a small, wing-like structure used usually as a stabilizing device.  Canard was from the French canard (duck, hoax) and in English as “a canard”, is still used in that sense to mean “a false or misleading report or story, especially if deliberately so”.

The Fuselage Chryslers, 1968-1973

1969 Imperial LeBaron, four-door hardtop.

The “fuselage” Chryslers were released late in 1968 for the 1969 model year and, as a class, remain the largest regular production cars ever made by the US industry.  In the catalogue between 1968-1973, by the end of their run the Imperial was built on a 127 inch (3226 mm) wheelbase, was 235 ½ (5981 mm) inches in length and almost 80 (2022 mm) inches in width.  Big cars from Detroit were not uncommon in the 1960s (Buick in 1959 even naming their top-of-the-range model the Electra 225, a tribute to its 225 inch (5715 mm) length) but even by those standards the fuselage cars not only were vast but the bulbous shape (source of the “fuselage” tag) made them appear more excessive still; it wasn’t only for the big Chryslers the derisive “land yacht” was coined but the line exemplified the idea.  In fairness, the trend generally was “longer, heavier & fatter”, even once compact (by US standards) and agile machines like Ford’s Mustang and Thunderbird bloating with each update although the manufacturers were aware there was considerable public demand for something smaller and by the late 1960s, those in the pipelines were well-advanced.  However, demand for the full-sized cars remained strong and Chrysler decided their lines should be more full-sized than ever, thus the fuselage design.  There was at the time a bit of an aeronautical influence about and that was nothing new, jet aircraft and space rockets during the previous two decades having contributed many of the motifs which appeared on US cars.  During the development cycle for the fuselage cars, Chrysler were well-acquainted with the appearance of the Boeing 747, sketches circulating for some three years before its first public appearance in September 1968, coincidently just days after the Chrysler’s debuted.  In its appearance, the bulging 747 was the same sort of departure from the earlier, slender 707 as the 1969 Chryslers were from their rectilinear predecessors.

1969 Chrysler 300 advertising.  In graphics & text, the "fuselage" motif was integral to the promotion; it was no mere nickname. 

In some ways the styling has aged surprisingly well because the basic lines are uncluttered and, particularly on the higher priced editions, there was some nice detailing but at the time, critics found the look peculiar and a deviance from the direction other manufacturers were travelling.  The sides were unusually deep and rounded (recalling, obviously, an airplane’s fuselage) with a beltline so high the glasshouse (the cabin area defined by the windows) was relatively shallow, something accentuated by the surrounding bulk.  The corporation’s full-sized platform (internally the “C-Body”), it was shared by the Plymouth, Dodge, Chrysler and Imperial lines, the latter a surprise to some because since 1955 when it had been established as a separate division, the Imperial had been built on a unique platform.  However, despite some encouraging results in the 1950s, Imperial never achieved the volume which would have justified another unique platform so the line was merged into mainstream development.

1969 Imperial LeBaron four-door Hardtop advertising.  The "messaging" in this advertisement remains obscure.

The debut season saw good sales for the fuselage cars (though still more than 10% down on the previous C-Body (1965-1968)) but demand dropped precipitously in the next three years although sales were in buoyant in 1973 when many manufacturers set records; it was the last good year for the “old” American economy and the swansong of the long post-war boom built on cheap, limitless energy and the uniquely advantageous position the country enjoyed after the war; something squandered by the mistakes of more than one administration.  It was certainly unfortunate timing for Chrysler that the first oil crisis should hit just weeks after they had replaced the fuselage cars with something mechanically similar but with clever styling tricks (even the engineers admitted it was “nips & tucks; smoke & mirrors”), something dimensionally similar appeared both smaller and more modern.  Underneath, as the fuselage line had been, was essentially a good product, Chrysler’s basic engineering always good and while the big machines would never behave like a Lotus Elan, on the road they were competent and in most aspects as good as or better than the competition.

Chrysler 1, small sedan 0.

Like the other “land yachts” of the era, the fuselage Chryslers, were criticized for being too big, too heavy, too thirsty and absurdly inefficient.  All those complaints were justified although those who got to ride in a land yacht sometimes would admit the experience made them understand the attraction of the things.  The basic engineering was also sound and undeniably the fuselage cars were tough.  In July 2025, photographs were posted on Facebook showing the aftermath of what must have been a relatively slow-speed crash in which a 1973 Chrysler New Yorker was “rear-ended” by a small sedan which was difficult to identify because of the frontal damage suffered.  The Chrysler appeared undamaged (the impressively solid looking chromed bumper bar seemingly not even scratched) with only the license place had been dislodged.  It must be conceded the “crumple zones” in the small sedan worked exactly as intended, absorbing the impact’s energy before it reached the passenger compartment but the relative consequences on the two vehicles are indicative of the way Chrysler once did things.  Interestingly, when the fuselage range was released for the 1969 season, the company’s engineers quietly would admit the new platform was not quite as strong as that used on the Imperial range built between 1957-1966 which had sat atop the old BoF (body-on-frame) technique.  For 1967, as part of production-line rationalization, the Imperial had switched to the unit-body configuration Chrysler had for 1960 adopted for the rest of the range.

The last of Harry S Truman's (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) many cars was a 1972 Chrysler Newport, the entry-level model in Chrysler's Fuselage range (some Plymouth & Dodge models were cheaper still).  Purchased some six months before his death, the licence plate (5745) was a special request, a reference to 7 May, 1945 (VE Day (Victory in Europe).  Truman was in office on that day and the plate has since permanently been retired.

The first oil shock hit demand for the 1974 cars and the timing was bad for all points in the production and distribution chain.  The 1974 Chryslers genuinely were improved and, noting the favourable reviews, dealers had ordered large stocks to meet the expected demand but the ripples from the OAPEC (Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries) oil embargo meant sales of big cars collapsed and the Chryslers, with V8 engines between 318-440 cubic inches (5.2-7.2 litres) were as thirsty as any of their ilk; stocks of cars expected to be sold in days languished on dealer’s lots for months.  In response, Chrysler shut down two manufacturing plants while trying to increase production or imports of smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles.  Sales of the big cars in 1974 were barely half those of the previous year and the breakdown of those was a harbinger for the whole industry, the numbers disproportionately slanted towards the higher-priced lines, the entry-level models attracting interest mostly from fleet operators and law enforcement.  The days of the low-cost big sedans which appealed to those like Harry Truman (a confessed Freemason) who liked the virtues without the ostentation, were over and their survival for a few years was guaranteed only because their virtues suited fleet buyers like police forces, rental car operators and the military.

When buying a Newport, one got more metal for the money that any other of the big Chryslers offered but one President Truman never would have considered was the Newport Sportsgrain.  For over a decade station wagons fitted with a combination of fibreglass spars emulating structural timbers and 3M's DI-NOC imitation wood panelling had been popular and, impressed by the solid sales numbers for these things which recalled the old “woody” station wagons (which, until the early 1950s had used real wood) Mercury decided those buying two-door hardtops and convertibles deserved the same choice.  Thus for the 1968 season, “Yacht Deck Paneling” appeared in the catalogues as an option on the top-of-the-line Park Lane.  Clearly not wishing to be thought deceptive, Mercury not only didn’t disguise the synthetic origins of the “simulated walnut-tone” appliqué, its advertising copy made a virtue of being faux, pointing out: “This paneling is tougher, longer-lasting than real wood… and every bit as beautiful” before concluding “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea”.

1969 Chrysler Newport with “Sportsgrain” option.  This was the era when the big cars came to be called “land yachts” so references to “yacht decks” and such were not inappropriate.  Inefficient in so many ways, in their natural environment (“floating” effortlessly down the freeways, passengers and driver isolated within from the rest of the world), they excelled and there’s since been nothing quite like them.

That sales pitch must have convinced Chrysler “wood-tone paneling has always been a good idea” because it responded to what Mercury were doing by slipping onto the market the mid-season offering of the “Sportsgrain Newport”, available as a two-door hardtop or convertible, both with the simulated timber used on the corporation’s station wagons.  A US$126 option, it was a deliberate attempt to evoke spirit of the high-priced Town and Country convertibles of the late 1940s but, because the T&C moniker had already been appropriated for the wagons, someone in marketing had to come with “sportsgrain” which now must seem mystifying to anyone unaware the first element of the portmanteau word was a nod to the convertibles of the early post-war years.  Other than the large slab of vinyl, the “Sportsgrain” cars were standard Newports (then the cheapest of the Chrysler-branded models).  While demand for appliqué-adorned station wagons remained strong, Chrysler in 1968 had no more success than Mercury in shifting hardtops & convertibles with the stuff glued on, only 965 of the former and 175 of the later being ordered which, nationwide, was not even one per dealer.  Remarkably, the option returned for 1969 with the new “fuselage” body styling, possibly because the corporation, anticipating higher demand, had a warehouse full of 3M’s vinyl but, being simply glued on, maintaining the option would not have been an expensive exercise.  Sales however must have been low, the survivors of the 1969 range rare and Chrysler have never disclosed the final season's production totals.

1978 Chrysler New Yorker advertising.  Still obviously bulky, the 1974-1978 re-style toned down the fuselage look although the interiors in tufted leather or velor became increasingly baroque.  Publications like Road & Track (R&T) where the writers disapproved of anything so big (they thought everyone should drive a Lancia) sneered at the extravagant fit-out, dismissing it as "gingerbread" but it was a luxurious and isolating environment.  There were still many who liked that sort of thing, none of whom maintained subscriptions to R&T.

So the writing was on the wall and even by 1977 when the oil crisis faded from memory and it seemed buyers were ready again to buy big, Chrysler was left with its now 1974 range while press and public fawned over General Motors’ (GM) newly slimmed-down, taut looking, full-size cars, the style and dimensions of which were so obviously the future.  Tellingly, while radically reduced in weight and external measurements, on the inside, they were in most places as capacious as both their predecessors and the now antique Chryslers which were still just an update of the 1969 fuselage range.  With the coming of 1976, the corporation had accepted the inevitable and axed the Imperial brand, Chrysler's top-of-the-range New Yorker tarted-up with left-over Imperial trim to become the new flagship.  The end was close and in 1978 it came, that the last year of the big Chryslers released with such high expectations a decade before and when the line was retired, it took with it the once popular four-door hardtop body-style, other manufacturers having already retired their models.  Shockingly inefficient though they are, the few surviving land yachts have a small but devoted following who appreciate what remains a unique driving experience (one as enjoyable as a passenger) and it's unlikely anything like them will ever be built again.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).

The most unexpected fuselage Chrysler was something of a coda to the earlier 300 letter series (1955-1966).  Although “surprise” is a common tactic in marketing, what was strange about the release of the Chrysler 300-Hurst (introduced in February 1970 at the Chicago Auto Show) was it being a surprise to the dealers parking it in their showrooms.  Improbable as it sounds for a product released in the citadel of modern capitalism, the accepted orthodoxy is the management at Chrysler and Hurst both believed the other corporation would be handing the promotion so consequently, none was ever done.  Given the market dynamics of the time, it’s debatable whether advertising would much have stimulated demand for such a machine and as things worked out, only some 500 were built, the model never replaced.  In the era, there was little consistency in how the thing was discussed with publications variously using “300H”, “300 Hurst” and “Hurst 300” but the preferred use now seems to be “300-H” to distinguish it from the original 300H of 1962.  Based on the Chrysler 300 built on the corporate C-Body (with the so called “fuselage” coachwork introduced for the 1969 season) conceptually, the 300-H was very much in the letter-series tradition and featured the combination of a more powerful version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 (rated at 375 (gross) horsepower in a dual-exhaust configuration), the TorqueFlite (727) automatic transmission and the opulent leather interior from the Imperial line.  Although often listed as a footnote, the 300-H isn't considered part of the letter-series lineage.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).  The leather trim and power-adjustable seats came from the Imperial line.

All were finished in Spinnaker White with Satin Tan color accents, and Medium Brown pin-striping, the H70–15 Goodyear Polyglas tyres mounted on 15 x 6-inch wheels in Saturn Iridescent paint.  Although the high (numerically low; the final-drive ratio a conservative 3.23) gearing was indicative of a machine was built for high-speed cruising on the freeways rather than ¼ mile runs along a drag-strip, there were a few visual clues borrowed from muscle car genre, each 300-H equipped with a fibreglass hood (bonnet) which included the then-fashionable “power bulge” in the centre and a rear-mounted fresh air intake although unlike the muscle cars, this fed cold air not to the engine but the passenger compartment.  The trunk (boot) lid (“rear-deck” in US terminology) was also a fibreglass piece which included an integrated spoiler (then referred to usually as an “airfoil”).  The fibreglass mouldings were fabricated by two different companies and although the hoods were well-engineered, the rear decks lacked the internal stiffening required by a panel of such size and they proved over time prone to deformation, the warping most severe if the sitting for any length of time in high-temperature.

1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).

By 1970, the 300-H must have seemed anachronistic because the market for high-performance variants of full-sized cars had evaporated as buyer preferences switched to the smaller intermediates and pony cars, by then available with the biggest, most powerful power-plants in Detroit’s inventory.  General Motors (GM) had withdrawn from the segment and although Ford listed the option of a four-speed manual gearbox for big XLs with 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre), none were ever built while the 1969 Mercury Marauder X-100 (essentially a cosmetic package) was automatic-only and lasted only a single season.  Chrysler’s Plymouth division still offered the triple-carburetor 440 (rated in 1970 at a healthy 390 HP) in the big Sport Fury but only with an automatic and sales were low.  It’s worth remembering the original Chrysler 300 “letter cars” of 1955-1956 were essentially the same size as the intermediates of the mid 1960s which became so popular and were the platform which defined the “muscle car” during its brief and crazy vogue; the size was “right” in a US context and what the full-sized lines had grown to was not.  As the fuselage Chryslers came to exemplify, the huge, full-sizers would prove ideal as “land yachts” a breed particular to the 1970s in which occupants, isolated from the outside as never before (and rarely since) “floated” down the freeways, consuming fossil fuels and expelling pollutants in volumes which now would astonish most and appal Greta Thunberg (b 2003).

Hurst built one 300-H convertible, used as a promotional vehicle for their famous shifters, often accompanied by Ms Linda Vaughn (b 1943) who stood on a platform mounted atop the rear desk, between giant models of shifters.  Ms Vaughn was for more than two decades a welcome adornment to drag-strips, noted usually for noise and brutishness.

In 1970, Chrysler 300s tagged for conversion to 300-H specification came down the assembly line in the Jefferson Avenue plant in Detroit before being freighted to Hurst’s facility in Warminster, Pennsylvania to undergo a process which differed from the original plan: instead of deeper oil pans, upgraded ignition systems and the Hurst shifters which had made the company’s name, the cars received mostly cosmetic enhancements although the suspension was stiffened.  About the only difference in configuration was some used a column-shift for the transmission and some a floor-shit with a console, the later combination used with bucket seats.  Despite the 7.2 litre V8, the gearing and bulk conspired against muscle-car like acceleration although the ET (elapsed time) of 15.5 seconds for the standing quarter mile (400 m) was impressive, all things considered.  However, with a MSRP (manufacturer's suggested retail price) of US$5,939 (without any options) it was the corporation’s most expensive offering (except for the Imperial line) and this, combined with the absence of promotion and the anyway declining interest in the segment meant there wasn’t a second batch beyond the original 500-odd (the total quoted variously between 485-501), many of which lingered on dealers’ lots.  According to internal documents, the initial projections had anticipated sales of 2000.

A Hurst Jaws of Life used between 1977-2012 by the fire department in Carlsbad, New Mexico, now on display at the National Museum of American History.

The 300-H was the biggest of a number of cars to bear the Hurst name although internationally George Hurst’s (1927-1986; founder of his eponymous company), greatest legacy to the world was the “Jaws of Life”, a hydraulic cutter he first developed in 1961 after being shocked at how long it sometimes took to extract the driver from the crumpled wreck of a race car.  The great advantage of the “Jaws of Life” was that it worked like a very powerful pair of scissors, avoiding the showers of sparks produced by mechanical saws, always a risk to use in areas where fuel is likely to have been spilled.  The basic design came to be used in hydraulic rescue devices worldwide and quite how many lives have been saved by virtue of it use isn’t known but it would be a big number.

Ms Linda Vaughn on the move.

It’s said one 300-H was dealer-fitted with the fabled 426 cubic inch (7.0) Street Hemi V8 but like many such tales from the era, the veracity of that is uncertain and most find the tale improbable.  Chrysler certainly never considered using either the Hemi or the triple-carburetor (3 x 2 bbl) version of the 440 because, given the market segment at which the thing was aimed, air-conditioning (AC) was thought likely to me an often chosen option and the factory never offered the option with either the Hemi or the most powerful 440, the systems of the era not suited to the high-revving units.  It’s thus an orthodoxy in the collector that “no cars with the 426 Hemi or 440 6 bbl were fitted with AC by the factory” and while that’s true of Chrysler’s factories, it not the case for every factory because Jensen in the UK offered AC in their Interceptor SP (Six-Pack) which used the six-barrel 440 and the boutique Swiss manufacturer Monteverdi did include AC in the single mid-engined Hai fitted with a Hemi.