Sketch

Sketch (pronounced skech)

(1) A simply or hastily executed drawing or painting, especially a preliminary one, giving the essential features without the details, later to be elaborated.

(2) A rough design, plan, or draft, as of a book.

(3) A brief or hasty outline of facts, occurrences etc.

(4) As thumbnail sketch, a piece of text which summaries someone or something.

(5) A short, usually descriptive, essay, history, or story.

(6) A short play or slight dramatic performance, as one forming part of a variety or vaudeville program; a short comedy routine (a skit).

(7) To make a sketch.

(8) To summarize, to set forth in a brief or general account.

(9) In metallurgy, to mark a piece of metal for cutting.

(10) In music, a short evocative instrumental piece, used especially with compositions for the piano.

(11) In the slang of the Irish criminal class, as “to keep (a) sketch), to maintain a lookout; to be vigilant; watch for something.

(12) In journalism, as parliamentary sketch, a newspaper article summarizing political events which attempts to make serious points in a lest than obviously serious manner (mostly UK).

(13) In category theory, a formal specification of a mathematical structure or a data type described in terms of a graph and diagrams (and cones (and cocones)) on it. It can be implemented by means of “models” (functors) which are graph homomorphisms from the formal specification to categories such that the diagrams become commutative, the cones become limiting (ie products) and the cocones become colimiting (ie sums).

1660–1670: From the Dutch schets (noun), from the Italian schizzo, from the Latin schedium (extemporaneous poem), noun use of neuter of schedius (extempore; hastily made), from the Ancient Greek σχέδιος (skhédios) (made suddenly, off-hand, unprepared), from σχεδόν (skhedón) (near, nearby), from ἔχω (ékhō) (I hold).  The German Skizze, the French esquisse & the Spanish esquicio are also from the Italian schizzo.  Sketch,  sketcher, sketchist & sketchiness are nouns, verb & adjective, sketching is a noun & verb, sketched is a verb, sketchlike, sketchy, sketchier, sketchiest & sketchable are adjectives, and sketchily & sketchingly are adverbs; the noun plural is sketches.  When a sketcher (or sketchist) sketches their sketches, they appear often in a sketchbook.

Six photographs of Lindsay Lohan, rendered in software as pencil sketches.

Sketch became a verb in the 1660s in the sense of “present the essential facts of" and was derived from the earlier noun. This idea of a sketch as a “brief account” by 1789 had enlarged to a "short play or performance, usually comic", still maintaining the connection from art as something less than full-scale, the reference to comedy suggesting something slight rather than a serious work.  The sketch-book was first recorded in 1820.  That sense extended beyond text to art and design from 1725 when it came also to mean "draw, portray in outline and partial shading", firstly to describe simple drawings, referring later to preparatory work for more elaborate creations.  The adjective sketchy is noted from 1805, describing art “having the form or character of a sketch".  The colloquial sense of "unsubstantial, imperfect, flimsy" is from 1878, possibly to convey the sense of something "unfinished".  Adumbrate (faint sketch, imperfect representation), actually pre-dates sketch, noted first in the 1550s.  It was from the Latin adumbrationem (nominative adumbratio) (a sketch in shadow, sketch, outline).  The meaning "to overshadow" is from the 1660s at which time emerged the derived forms adumbrated and adumbrating and related forms are adumbration (noun), adumbrative (adjective) and adumbratively (adverb).

Sketches by “Boz,” Illustrative of Every-day Life and Every-day People by Charles Dickens (1812-1870), illustrated by George Cruikshank (1792–1878).

Charles Dickens' first book, Sketches by “Boz” was a collection of 56 short pieces, originally published in various newspapers and other periodicals between 1833-1836. They were re-issued in a two-volume set in 1836 with a single edition appearing in 1839.  Very different from the work with which Dickens most is associated, the theme of 56 sketches was the people and scenes of London (the built environment best understood also as a “character” in the narratives.  Divided into four sections (Our Parish, Scenes, Characters & Tales), the first three contained non-narrative pen-portraits while the final wholly was fictional.  In Sketches by “Boz”, there are passages which constitute classic “thumbnail sketches” (in literature, concise, vivid descriptions (classically in a single paragraph of no more than a few sentences) that captures the fundamental essence, appearance, or personality of a character, setting or scene).  The term was a borrowing from the visual arts, where a thumbnail sketch was a quickly composed, rough drawing to map out an idea, the notion being it looked “sketchy enough to have been drawn by the artist's thumb”.  In both graphics and text, the shared definition was an entire concept rendered by the depiction of its most recognizable and striking elements with no extraneous detail.

The sketch (a short, often topical comedic performance) quickly became a staple of television variety shows and such productions have (thankfully) declined in number, the format is still used.  In literary theory, there are two basic categories of sketch: (1) a short prose piece (perhaps between one to two thousand words) which tends to be of the descriptive kind once most associated with newspapers and magazines (and still often appearing in the latter).  In newspapers, one notable survivor is the “parliamentary sketch” in which some (often anecdotal) “color” is added to political reporting.  A feature of British political journalism since the 1700s when the reporting of the antics of politicians was more restricted (to avoid the truth being told about the lies they told, that strategy seen still in the laws of defamation in some jurisdictions), many of the early parliamentary sketches used pseudonyms for those described and the art of a fine sketch writer was providing just enough for the well-informed reader to “read between the lines”.  In literary use, because of the nature of the form, stylistically some sketches could overlap with the short story and there's is little point attempting to be prescriptive about where one ends and the other begins; the classic example of a sketch was Charles Dickens's Sketches by "Boz", a series of sketches of life and manners.  (2) A brief dramatic piece of the kind one might find in a revue or as a curtain raiser or as part of some other kind of theatrical entertainment, exemplars being Harold Pinter's (1930-2008) Request Stop, Last to Go & Special Offer, performed in the revue Pieces of Eight, which opened at the Apollo Theatre, London, in September 1959.  For better or worse, ambitious monologists including Ruth Draper (1884-1956) and Joyce Grenville (1910-1979) extended the concept of the sketch into a particular dramatic form described as "a kind of monodrama".  Nor were sketches dependent on oral delivery, the solo mime artist Marcel Marceau (1923-2007) sometimes referring to his performances as un sketch dramatique (a dramatic sketch).

Sketches of Spain

Although not yet regarded as the landmark in jazz it would come to be in the decades which followed its release in 1959, even in 1960 Miles Davis’s (1926-1991) Kind of Blue had already created among some aficionados an expectation; realising it was something special, this was what they hoped would be the definitive Davis style and they were anxious for more.  The next release however, wasn’t indicative of what was to come, Workin' with the Miles Davis Quintet (1960 Cat# Prestige P-7166) was the third of four albums assembled from sessions recorded long before the Kind of Blue sessions and released to fulfil contractual obligations to the independent label Prestige.  Although some purists were pleased, after Kind of Blue, the music seemed old-fashioned.

Miles Davis, Kind of Blue, (1959, Columbia, Cat# CS 8163).

Davis had enjoyed considerable success in the 1950s but, needing the distribution and promotional network of a major label to reach a wider audience, he’d signed with Colombia (CBS internationally).  The early Colombia releases had been well received but it was the sixth, Kind of Blue, which made him a star beyond the world of jazz, the album selling in volumes unprecedented in the genre; to date, over four million copies are said to have been shipped.  Davis had been innovative before, his performance at the 1954 Newport Jazz Festival defining what had come to be called “hard bop” (a flavor of jazz influenced by other forms, especially rhythm and blues) but the appeal extended little beyond already established audiences.  What made Kind of Blue so significant was that Davis effectively invented modal jazz which shifted the technique from one where the players worked within a set chord progression to soloists creating melodies using modes which could be deployed alone or in multiples.  Musicians explain the significance of this as a movement to the horizontal (the scale) rather than the traditional vertical (the chord).  In the somewhat insular world of jazz, that would anyway have been interesting but the sound captivated those beyond and was a landmark in what would come to be known as musical fusion, the cross-fertilisation of sound and technique.  Among composers, fusion was nothing new but Kind of Blue realised its implications in a tight, seductive package.

Miles Davis, Sketches of Spain, (1959, Columbia, Cat# CS 8271).

Sketches of Spain too was a fusion but it was different to what had come before and was no attempt to be "Kind of Blue II".  For one thing, the sound was big, recorded in the famously cavernous converted church in Manhattan which for decades was Colombia’s recording studio.  Lined with old timber and with a ceiling which stretched 100 feet (30 m) high, technicians called it the “temple of sound” because of the extraordinary acoustic properties.  The ensemble too was big, a necessity because this time the fusion was with the orchestral, the long opening track an arrangement by Davis and Gil Evans (1912-1988) of the adagio movement of Joaquín Rodrigo’s (1901-1999) guitar concerto, Concierto de Aranjuez  (1939).  Such was the extent of the fusion there were traditionalists who doubted Sketches of Spain could still be called jazz; they saluted the virtuosity but seemed to miss the sometimes arcane complexities in construction inaccessible except to the knowing few.

Miles Davis, Bitches Brew (1970, CBS, Cat# S 66236).

The wider world however was entranced and technical progress needs also to be noted.  Colombia had recorded Davis before in the then still novel stereo but even fans acknowledged the mono pressings remained superior and it wasn’t until 1960, after extensive testing and the refinement of equipment that the technique had been perfected.  Sketches of Spain was lush or austere as the moment demanded, listeners new to stereo especially enchanted at being able to hear the sounds hanging in a three-dimensional space, each instrument a distinct object in time and place.  Nobody asked for mono after that.  Influential as it was, to Davis, Sketches of Spain was just another phase.  Ten years later, noting the increasingly sparse audiences in jazz clubs and aware a new generation had different sensibilities, Davis would fuse with other, more recent traditions and Bitches Brew would cast his shadow over a new decade.  A footnote to the change of direction Bitches Brew flagged came with the release of material from Davis's performance at the Isle of Wight Festival (1970) which included, inter alia, a 17 minute passage substantially from the album.  Noting the discursiveness, producers from Columbia contacted Davis and asked him what the piece should be titled.  "Call it anything" he told them, repeating the answer he'd given to the musicians at the Festival who had asked him what he was about to play.  Liking that, Colombia's literalists included the track Call it Anything when the album The First Great Rock Festivals of the Seventies (1971) was released.   

Haystack

Haystack (pronounced hey-stak)

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

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

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

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

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

1962 BRM P57.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Haystack News which “finds needles in the haystack”.

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

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

Bales of hay, stacked in a hay shed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Nuremberg Women (2026) by Natalie Livingstone.

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

Etceterini

Etceterini (pronounced et-set-er-rhini)

One or all of the sports cars & racing cars produced in small volumes by a number of “boutique” Italian manufacturers during the quarter-century-odd following World War II (1939-1945).

1980s (though not attaining wide currency until publication in 1990): A portmanteau word, the construct being etcetera(a) + ini.  Etcetera was from the early fourteenth century Middle English et cetera (and other things; and so forth), from the Latin et cētera (and the other things; and the rest of the things), the construct being et (and) + cetera (the other things; the rest).  Et was from the Proto-Italic et, from the primitive Indo-European éti or heti and was cognate with the Ancient Greek ἔτι (éti), the Sanskrit अति (ati), the Gothic iþ (and, but, however, yet) and the Old English prefix ed- (re-).  Cētera was the plural of cēterum, accusative neuter singular of cēterus (the other, remainder, rest), from the Proto-Italic ke-eteros, the construct being ke (here) +‎ eteros (other).  The Latin suffix -īnī was an inflection of -īnus (feminine -īna, neuter -īnum), from the Proto-Italic -īnos, from the primitive Indo-European -iHnos and was cognate with the Ancient Greek -ινος (-inos) and the Proto-Germanic -īnaz.  The suffix was added to a noun base (particularly proper nouns) to form an adjective, usually in the sense of “of or pertaining to and could indicate a relationship of position, possession or origin”.  Because the cars referenced tended to be small (sometimes very small), some may assume the –ini element to be an Italian diminutive suffix but in Italian the diminutive suffixes are like -ino, -etto, -ello & -uccio but etceterini works because the Latin suffix conveys the idea of “something Italian”.  It was used substantively or adverbially.  Until the early twentieth century, the most common abbreviation was “&c.” but “etc.” (usually with a surely now superfluous period (full-stop)) has long been the standard form.   Etcetera is a noun; the noun plural is etceteras

The word “etcetera” (or “et cetera”) fully has been assimilated into English and (except when used in a way which makes a historic reference explicit) is for most purposes no longer regarded as “a foreign word” though the common use has long been to use the abbreviation (the standard now: “etc”).  If for whatever reason there’s a need for a “conspicuously foreign” form then the original Latin (et cētera (or even the Anglicized et cetera)) should be used.  There is no definitive date on which the assimilation can be said to have been completed (or at least generally accepted), rather it was a process.  From the 1400s, the Middle English et cetera was used and understood by educated speakers, due to Latin's prominence in law, science, religion and academia with it by the mid-eighteenth century being no longer viewed as a “foreignism” (except of course among the reactionary hold-outs with a fondness for popery and ecclesiastical Latin: for them, in churches and universities, even in English texts, et cētera or et cetera remained preferred).  Scholars of structural linguistics use an interesting test to track the process of assimilation as modern English became (more or less) standardized: italicization.  With “et cetera” & “etcetera”, by the mid-eighteenth century, the once de rigour italics had all but vanished.  That test may no longer be useful because words which remains classified as “foreign” (such as raison d'être or schadenfreude) often now appear without italics.

The so-called “pronunciation spellings” (ekcetera, ekcetra, excetera & exetera) were never common and the abbreviations followed the same assimilative path.  The acceptance of the abbreviated forms in printed English more widespread still during the 1600s because of the advantages it offered printers, typesetters much attracted by the convenience and economy.  By early in the eighteenth century it was an accepted element (usually as “&c” which soon supplanted “et cet”) in “respectable prose”, appearing in Nathan Bailey’s (circa 1690-1742) An Universal Etymological English Dictionary (1721) and gaining the imprimatur of trend-setter Anglo-Irish author & satirist Jonathan Swift (1667–1745).  Dr Johnson (Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)) made much use of “&c” in his A Dictionary of the English Language (1755) and although Bailey’s dictionary was influential in the breadth of its comprehensiveness and remained, over 30 editions, in print until 1802, it’s Dr Johnson who is better remembered because he was became a “celebrity lexicographer” (a breed which today must sound improbable.)

One of the implications of linguistic assimilation is the effect on the convention applied when speaking from a written text.  Although wildly ignored (probably on the basis of being widely unknown), the convention is that foreign words in a text should be spoken in the original language only if that’s necessary for emphasis or meaning (such as Caudillo, Duce or Führer) or emphasis.  Where foreign terms are used in writing as a kind of verbal shorthand (such as inter alia (among other things)) in oral use they should be spoken in English.  However, the convention doesn’t extent to fields where the terms have become part of the technical jargon (which need not influence a path of assimilation), as in law where terms like inter alia and obiter (a clipping of obiter dictum (something said by a judge in passing and not a substantive part of the judgment)) are so entrenched in written and oral use that to translate them potentially might be misleading.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, left), Britney Spears (b 1981, centre) & Paris Hilton (b 1981, right), close to dawn, Los Angeles, 29 November 2006; the car was Ms Hilton's Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren (C199 (2003-2009)).  This paparazzo's image was from a cluster which included the one used for the front page on Rupert Murdoch's (b 1931) New York Post with the still infamous headline “BIMBO SUMMIT”.  Even by the standards of the Murdoch tabloids, it was nasty.

So, the text written as: “Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears et al recommend that while a handbag always should contain “touch-up & quick fix-up” items such as lipstick, lip gloss, and lip liner, the more conscientious should pack more including, inter alia, mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, concealer, a powder compact, a small brush set & comb etc.” would be read aloud as: “Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and others recommend that while a handbag always should contain “touch-up & quick fix-up” items such as lipstick, lip gloss, and lip liner, the more conscientious should pack more including, among other things, mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, concealer, a powder compact, a small brush set & comb etcetera.”  Despite the cautions from purists (including just about every grammar text-book and style guide on the planet), the “choice” between “etc” and “et al” does seem to becoming blurred with many using seemingly using the two interchangeably.  The rules are (1) “etc” (and other things) is used of things (and according to the style guides should always appear with a period (full-stop) even though such use is archaic and another of those “needless tributes to tradition”) and (2) “et al” (and others) is used of people (especially in citations and again, always with a period).  So, “et al” can’t be used for things; strictly, it’s for things; it’ll be interesting to see if these rules survive into the next century.  Really, it's a silly rule and because it's hardly difficult to distinguish between a text string of "people" and one of "things", if used interchangeably, the two abbreviations are unlikely to confuse.  Et al was the abbreviation of the Latin et aliī (and others).

A Unix /etc directory.

In computing, Unix-based operating systems (OS) feature a directory (the word “folder” thought effete by the Unix community, most of whom are at their happiest when typing arcane commands at the prompt) called “etc” (along with /root, /boot, dev, /bin, /opt etc) which is used as a repository for system-wide configuration files and shell scripts used to boot and initialize the system.  Although there are many variants of the OS, typically an /etc directory will contain (1) OS configuration files (/etc/passwd; /etc/fstab; /etc/hosts), (2) system startup scripts (/etc/init.d or /etc/systemd/, (3) network configuration, (4) user login & environment configuration files and (5) application configuration files.  Originally (sometime in 1969-1970), the “etc” name was adopted because it was “an et cetera” in the literal sense of “and so on”, a place to store files which were essential but didn’t obviously belong elsewhere, a single “general purpose” directory used to avoid needless proliferation in the structure.  Rapidly Unix grew in complexity and configurability so the once “place for the miscellaneous” became the canonical location for configuration files, the original sense displaced but the name retained.  It is pronounced et-see (definitely not ee-tee-see or et-set-er-uh).  Despite their reputation, the Unix guys do have a joke (and there are unconfirmed rumors of a second).  Because so many of the files in /etc can be modified with any text-editor, in some documents earnestly it’s revealed /etc is the acronym of “Editable Text Configuration” but as well as a bad joke, it's also fake news; ETC is a backronym.

The Etceterini: exquisite creations with names ending in vowels

1954 Stanguellini 750 Sport.

In the tradition of mock-Latin, the word etceterini was a late twentieth century coining created to refer to the ecosystem of the numerous small-volume Italian sports & racing cars built in the early post-war years.  A portmanteau word, the construct being etceter(a) + ini, the idea was a word which summoned the idea of “many, some obscure” with an Italianesque flavor.  Credit for the coining is claimed by both automotive historian John de Boer (who in 1990 published The Italian car registry: Incorporating the registry of Italian oddities: (the etceterini register)) and reviewer & commentator Stu Schaller who asserts previous use.  Whoever first released it into the wild (and it seems to have been in circulation at least as early as the mid-1980s) can be content because it survived in its self-defined niche and the evocative term has become part of the lexicon used by aficionados of post-war Italian sports and racing cars.  Being language (and in this English is not unique), it is of course possible two experts, working in the same field, both coined the term independently, the timing merely a coincidence.  Etceterini seems not to have been acknowledged (even as a non-standard form) by the editors of any mainstream English dictionary and surprisingly, given how long its history of use now is, even jargon-heavy publications like those from the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE) haven’t yet added it to their lexicons.  It does though appear in specialist glossaries, car-model registry websites and niche discussion forums, especially those tied to classic Italian car culture (OSCA, Moretti, Stanguellini, Siata, Bandini, Ermini etc).  So, as a word it has sub-cultural & linguistic clarity but no status among the linguistic establishment.

1953 Siata 208S Barchetta.

John De Boer’s comprehensive The Italian car registry: Incorporating the registry of Italian oddities: (the etceterini register) was last updated in 1994 and remains the best-known publication on the many species of the genus etceterini and included in its 350-odd pages not only a wealth of photographs and cross-referenced details of specification but also lists chassis and engine numbers (priceless data for collectors and restoration houses in their quests for the often elusive quality of “originality”).  Nor are the personalities neglected, as well as some notable owners the designers and builders are discussed and there are sections devoted to coach-builders, a once vibrant industry driven almost extinct by regulators and the always intrusive realities of economics.  One thing which especially delights the collectors are the photographs of some of the obscure accessories of the period, some rendered obsolete by technology, some of which became essential standard-equipment and some seriously weird.  Mr De Boer’s book was from the pre-internet age when, except for a pampered handful in a few universities, “publication” meant paper and printing presses but such things are now virtualized and “weightless publication” is available instantly to all and there are small corners of the internet curated for devotees of the etceterini such as Cliff Reuter’s Etceteriniermini, a title which certainly takes some linguistic liberties.  Some trace the breed even to the late 1930s and such machines certainly existed then but as an identifiable cultural and economic phenomenon, they really were a post-war thing and although circumstances conspired to make their survival rare by the mid 1960s, a handful lingered into the next decade.

1957 Bandini 750 Sport Saponetta.

That the ecosystem of the etceterini flourished in Italy in the 1950s was because the country was then a certain place and time and while the memorable scenes depicted in La Dolce Vita (1960) might have been illusory for most, the film did capture something from their dreams.  After the war, there was a sense of renewal, the idea of the “new” Italy as a young country in which “everybody” seemed young and for those who could, sports car and racing cars were compelling.  However, while there was a skilled labor force ready to build them and plenty of places in which they could be built, economics dictated they needed to be small and light-weight because the mechanical components upon which so many relied came from the Fiat parts bin and the most significant commonality among the etceterini were the small (often, by international standards, tiny) engines used otherwise to power the diminutive micro-cars & vans with which Fiat in the post-war years “put Italy on wheels”.  It was no coincidence so many of the small-volume manufacturers established their facilities near to Fiat’s factory in Torino, the closest thing the nation had to a Detroit.  In the early years, it wasn’t unknown for a donkey and cart carrying a few engines to make the short journey from the Fiat foundry to an etceterini’s factory (which was sometime little more than a big garage).  However, just because the things were small didn’t mean they couldn’t be beautiful and, being built by Italians, over the years there were some lovely shapes, some merely elegant but some truly sensuous.  Lovely they may appear but the Italians were not reverential when making comparisons with other objects.  Of the Bandini 750 Sport, Saponetta translates as literally as "little soap", the idea being the resemblance to a bar of soap as the ends wear away with use although of the nine 750 Sports made, some had an abbreviated Kamm tail which offered aerodynamic advantage at high speed but was less soapbaresque in shape.  Despite only nine 750 Sports being made, it was something of a volume model for the marque, for in the 45 years between 1946-1992, only 75 cars emerged from Ilario Bandini's (1911–1992) tiny workshop in Forlì, a municipality in the northern Italian city of Emilia-Romagna.  Bathrooms clearly were a thing in the Italian imagination because they dubbed the OSCA S187 (750S) the tubo di dentifricio (toothpaste tube), illustrating yet again how everything sounds better in Italian.   

1960 Stanguellini Formula Junior.

Among the etceterini, there was a high churn rate but many for years there flourished and developed also lucrative “sideline” businesses producing ranges of speed equipment or accessories for majors such as Fiat or Alfa Romeo and, as has happened in other industries, sometimes the success of these overtook the original concern.  Nardi soon noticed the return on capital from selling their popular custom steering wheels far exceeded what was being realized from producing a handful of little sports cars so the manufacture of those quickly was abandoned with resources re-allocated to the accessory which had become a trans-Atlantic best-seller.  Whether things would have gone on indefinitely had the laissez-faire spirit of the times been allowed to continue can’t be known but by the 1960s, traffic volumes rapidly were increasing on the growing lengths of autostrade (the trend-setting Italian motorway system begun during the administration of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) with accident rates & the death toll both climbing.  Italy, like many jurisdictions began to impose safety regulations which before long made small-scale production runs unviable but by then rising prosperity meant people were able to purchase their own Fiat or Alfa-Romeo and the etceterini faded into fond memory.  It is of course unthinkable such a thing could again happen because the EU (European Union) is now staffed by divisions of Eurocrats who spend their days in Masonic-like plotting and scheming to devise new reasons to say non, nein, nee, nein, não etc (and, before the UK made it's dopey decision to leave the EU, they also said no).  Had these bloodless bureaucrats existed in the 1940s, not one etceterini would ever have reached the street.

The Auto Sputnik

Italian comrades admiring Auto Sputnik, Rome, Italy, April 1958.

Although it’s the slinky sports and racing cars which are celebrated as the etceterini, from the then vibrant ecosystem of Italian coach-building, a wide range of body types emerged including larger coupés & cabriolets, station wagons, vans, ambulances, hearses and more.  In post-war Italy, if a manufacturer wanted a run of a few dozen or hundred, there was a factory to fulfil the contract and for those who wanted some sort of low-volume model or even a one-off needed for a specific purpose, if need be, there would be a man in a shed who could form the metal.  Again, it was availability of versatile, mass-produced platforms which made the re-purposing possible and a genuine one-off was the Auto Sputnik (Sputnik-car), built for the PCI (Partito Comunista Italiano, the Communist Party of Italy, 1921-1991) as a propaganda vehicle to travel around the land in the run-up to the 1958 general election.  Centre of attention was a model of Sputnik 1, the first artificial Earth satellite, launched by the Soviet Union on 4 October, 1957, an event which had shocked many in the West because it seemed to illustrate how much more advanced was Soviet science compared to that in the West.  What it heightened was the fear the communist "planned economy" was proving more efficient in producing advanced technology while in the West excessive resources were being absorbed by things like annual changed to the styling of washing machines or making the tailfins on cars rise higher.  That feeling rippled around the US Congress, causing great concern although the scientific and military establishment, better acquainted with relative industrial capabilities, were more sanguine.  Politicians however find it often more rewarding to respond to perceptions rather than reality and it was the launch of Sputnik which triggered the “space race”, the first round of which culminated with the US manned landing on the moon in 1969.

Italian and Soviet design sensibilities, circa 1958: Auto Sputnik, colorized (left) and 1958 Soviet UAZ-450 (right).  Mechanically somewhat updated (though stylistically, not by much) , the UAZ is still being made and is believed to be the oldest vehicle design still in series production, the blueprints delivered to the factory in 1957.

Although just by achieving orbit Sputnik 1 was a landmark in space flight, as it circled the Earth every 96 minutes, despite much wild speculation, all the 580 mm (23 inch) wide metal sphere did was transmit “beeps” which could be received by ground-based radios but the PCI’s model on the Auto Sputnik was, in a sense, more ambitious because it included an integrated loudspeaker for broadcasting campaign messages (ie communist propaganda).  Having Sputnik to use as propaganda tools was certainly a tribute to Soviet design prowess and industrial capacity but it was good that for Auto Sputnik the PCI turned to Italian rather than Soviet coach-builders.  There was at the time something in the souls of Italian designers which stopped them drawing an ugly line so the Auto Sputnik, despite its utilitarian purpose, was a stylish piece of mid-century modernism, characterized by the mix of fuselage-like flanks, topped with a formed in sensuously shaped Perspex.  The eye-catching design may be compared with what can be imagined had a Russian contractor been granted the commission.  What would have been delivered would have been heavy, robust (if not especially well-finished) and “done the job” but it would not have been stylish.  For that, it was best to get an Italian and in the 1960s, the UK industry would do exactly that, Michelotti among several doing good business there.

1957 Fiat 600 Multipla (left) and the prototype 1957 600 Marinella (right) by Giovanni Michelotti (1921–1980), the latter a classic example of the adaptability of the 600 platform, one of a number used by those who created the Etceterini.

In a nice touch, a dog (various real or a stuffed toy) was also carried, a tribute to Laika, the “Soviet space dog” who was the first animal to orbit the planet when Sputnik 2 flew into low Earth-orbit on 3 November 1957.  The  Perspex windows on the model of Sputnik certainly weren’t on the original sphere and were installed just so the dog could be seen and even that was an attempt to manipulate voters through “associative cognition”, people trusting dogs in a way they don't trust politicians, communist or otherwise.  Unfortunately for Laika, the technology of the era precluded a return-flight and some hours into the mission, she died of hyperthermia.  Like the doomed dog, Auto Sputnik did not survive and although there seem to be no details of either the coach-builder or platform used, historians of the etceterini are certain it was based on a Fiat 600 Multipla (1956–1967) and not the 600T because the latter variant was in production only between 1961-1968.  An exercise in pure functionalism, the prime directive of the 600 Multipa (literally “multiple”) was the optimal utilization of interior space.  The object was a vehicle in which the maximum possible payload (people or objects) could be carried within the smallest possible external dimensions, powered by a drive-train which would do it all at the lowest possible cost.  Countless Italians found the Multipla lived up to the name but the PCI’s use must be among the more unusual.

Flag of the Italian Communist Party (hammer & sickle in yellow on red background (left) and the highly regarded “Italian Hot Dogs” sold at Jimmy Buff's.

No color images of the Auto Sputnik seem to exist but one monochrome photograph has been colorized, the software confirming it was finished in red & yellow.  These were the colors of the PCI’s flag so the choice had nothing to do with the ketchup and mustard of the “Italian Hot Dog”, the invention of which is credited to Jimmy “Buff” Racioppi, founder of Jimmy Buff's in Newark, New Jersey where the first “Italian Hot Dog” was sold in 1932.

TELEPHOTO image with explanatory caption, distributed to newspapers by wire services, April 1958.

Routinely in use in the West since the late 1930s, (and known also as “wirephotos”), TELEPHOTOs literally were “photographs transmitted using telegraph wire infrastructure” and although receiving an image could take some minutes, for newspapers it was a revolutionary service because for those in daily production cycles, it was effectively “real-time”.  The TELEPHOTO was one of many steps on the technological ladder to the contemporary world of instantaneous communication.  When in 1865 Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865; POTUS 1861-1865) was assassinated, the news didn’t reach Europe until the fastest clipper had crossed the Atlantic a fortnight later.  By the time of William McKinley's (1843–1901; POTUS 1897-1901) assassination, the news was within minutes transmitted around the world through undersea cables (thus the still sometimes heard use in this context of “wire service”, “cable” & “cabled”).  In 1963, while news of John Kennedy's (JFK, 1917–1963; POTUS 1961-1963) death was close to a global, real-time event, those many miles from Dallas had to wait sometimes 24 hours or more to view footage, the physical film stock delivered in canisters by land, sea or air.  By 1981, when an attempt was made on Ronald Reagan’s (1911-2004; POTUS 1981-1989) life, television stations around the planet were, sometimes within seconds, picking up live-feeds from satellites.

The text on the vehicle: "VOTA COMUNISTA", translates as “Vote Communist” and the 1958 election was unexpectedly difficult for the party because there had been schisms and defections after (1) the Red Army's crushing of the 1956 Hungarian uprising (tellingly, the Kremlin made no attempt to augment their forces with troops from other Warsaw Pact signatories) and (2) comrade Nikita Khrushchev’s (1894–1971; Soviet leader 1953-1964) “secret” speech in February that year denouncing the personality cult and excesses of comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953).  Still, the party maintained its support, gaining 22.7% of the vote against the 22.6% received in 1953, the loss of three seats (from 143 to 140) the consequence of electoral redistributions and some changes in the allocation of seats between the various mechanisms.  With that, the PCI remained the country’s second-largest party in Italy although the Democrazia Cristiana (DC, the Christian Democrats) remained dominant and the communists still were excluded from government.  Essentially then, the 1958 election maintained the “status quo” but what had changed since the late 1940s was that agents of the US government (not all of whom were on the payroll of the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency)) no longer wandered cities and the countryside with the suitcases of US dollars thought (correctly) to be the most useful accessory when seeking to influence elections.  When Washington complains about the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and others using this method or that to try to “influence” elections in the US, they know what they’re talking about; while the tactics of the influencers have changed, the strategy remains the same.