Pillow

Pillow (pronounced pil-oh)

(1) A bag or case made of cloth that is filled with feathers, down, or other soft material, and is used to cushion the head during sleep or rest.

(2) Any similar construction used to cushion the head; a type of headrest.

(3) In lace-making, a hard cushion or pad that supports the pattern and threads in the making of bobbin lace (also called lace pillow).

(4) In ship-building, a supporting piece or part, as the block on which the inner end of a bowsprit (a spar projecting over the prow of a sailing vessel to provide the means of adding sail surface) rests.

(5) In geology, as “pillow lava”, the rock type resembling the shape of a typical pillow, formed when lava emerges from an underwater volcanic vent or a lava flow enters the ocean.

(6) In engineering, as “pillow block”, a piece of wood or metal, forming a support to equalize pressure (historically known also a “brass”, an allusion to the alloy once commonly used for such purposes.

(7) In engineering, the socket of a pivot.

(8) A kind of plain, coarse fustian (a coarse fabric made originally from cotton and flax and now a coarse fabric of twilled cotton or a cotton & linen mix).

(9) With and without modifiers (love pillows; dirty pillows etc) and usually in the plural, yet another slang term for the human female's breasts.

(10) To rest on a pillow.

(11) To support with pillows.

(12) To serve as a pillow for some purpose.

1450s: From the Middle English pillow & pilow, (a head-rest used by a person reclining, especially a soft, elastic cushion filled with down, feathers etc), from the earlier pilwe, from the Old English pylwe, pylu & pyle (cushion, bed-cushion, pillow), from West Germanic noun pulwi & pulwin (source also of the Old Saxon puli, the Middle Dutch polu, the Dutch peluw, the Old High German pfuliwi and the German Pfühl), from the Proto-West Germanic pulwī (pillow), borrowed (possibly as early as the second century) from the Latin pulvinus (a little cushion, small pillow) of uncertain origin but some etymologists have speculated the construct may have been the Latin pulvis (dust, powder) +‎ -īnus (-ine) (in the sense of the filler of a pillow).  The suffix -īnus (-ine) was 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.  In use it was added to a noun base (especially a proper noun) to form an adjective conveying the sense “of or pertaining to” and could indicate a relationship of position, possession, or origin.  The modern English spelling dates from the 1450s.  Pillow & pillowing are nouns & verbs, pillowed is a verb & adjectice and pillowless, pillowy, pillowlike & pillowesque are adjectives; the noun plural is pillows.

Pillowslips (left) in the typical combination of (1) a pair in a matching set with sheets & (2) a pair in a set matching the duvet cover and a quartet of pillowshams (right).  

Use of the pillowcase (washable enclosure drawn over a pillow and known also as a “pillowslip”) probably long predates the first known use of the term in 1745 but the emergence in the 1860s of the “pillowsham” is likely indicative of the tastes of the rising middle-class.  The pillowsham can be thought of as the archetypal middle class accessory and while structurally similar to a pillow case, in the jargon of interior decorators they are distinct.  A pillowcase (or pillowslip) is a basic and close-fitting cover which encases a pillow to protect it and provide a comfortable surface for sleeping.  Typically, pillowcases are made from soft, washable fabrics like cotton, linen, or microfiber and usually feature an open end with a flap; most are simple in design although there can be frills (though not fringes which are restricted to cushions) and the fabric tends to be either a solid color or matching the rest of the bed linen (ie as part of a set).  A pillowsham is a decorative cover for a pillow, often used on beds to add style rather than for everyday sleeping and some shams placed over pillows for decorative effect are removed or placed at the back when someone is sleeping.  Pillowshams are much associated with intricate designs (embroidery, ruffles, textured fabric and worse) and usually have an opening at the back, often closed with buttons, a zipper, or an overlapping flap to hide the closure.  Sham (intended to deceive; false; act of fakery) is thought probably to have been a dialectal form of shame (reproach incurred or suffered; dishonour; ignominy; derision) from the Middle English schame, from the Old English sċamu, from Proto-Germanic skamō.  Thus, while interior decorators may have no shame, they certainly have shams.

Pillowsham is the generic term for these items (whether put over a pillow or cushion) and “cushionsham” is not part of the jargon; the terms pillowcase, pillowslip & pillowsham appear variously also as separate words and hyphenated.  The pillowsham is notorious for its use as a platform for kitsch and Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) mountain home (the Berghof in the Obersalzberg of the Bavarian Alps near Berchtesgaden, Bavaria) featured many, sent to him by his many female admirers.  He claimed not to approve of them but appreciated the gesture although they seem never to have appeared in photographs of the house’s principle rooms, banished it seems to places like the many surrounding buildings including the conservatory of Hans Wichenfeld (the chalet on which the Berghof based).

Hitler's study in the Berghof with only matched cushions (left) and the conservatory (centre & right) with some pillowshams (embroidered with swastikas and the initials A.H.).

In the US, Life magazine in October 1939 (a few weeks after the Nazis had invaded Poland) published a lush color feature focused on Hitler’s paintings and the Berghof, the piece a curious mix of what even then were called “human-interest stories”, political commentary and artistic & architectural criticism.  One heading :“Paintings by Adolf Hitler: The Statesman Longs to Be an Artist and Helps Design His Mountain Home” illustrates the flavor but this was a time before the most awful aspects of Nazi rule were understood and Life’s editors were well-aware a significant proportion of its readership were well disposed towards Hitler’s regime.  Still, there was some wry humor in the text, assessing the Berghof as possessing the qualities of a “…combination of modern and Bavarian chalet” styles, something “awkward but interesting” while the interiors, “…designed and decorated with Hitler’s active collaboration, are the comfortable kind of rooms a man likes, furnished in simple, semi-modern, sometimes dramatic style. The furnishings are in very good taste, fashioned of rich materials and fine woods by the best craftsmen in the Reich.”  Life seemed to be most taken with the main stairway leading up from the ground floor which was judged “a striking bit of modern architecture.”  Whether or not the editors were aware Hitler thought “modern architecture” suitable only for factories, warehouses and such isn’t clear.  They also had fun with what hung on the walls, noting: “Like other Nazi leaders, Hitler likes pictures of nudes and ruins” but anyway concluded that “in a more settled Germany, Adolf Hitler might have done quite well as an interior decorator.”  There was no comment on the Führer’s pillows and cushions.

Whatever Life’s views on him as potential interior decorator, decades later, his architect was prepared to note the dictator’s “beginner’s mistake” in the building’s design.  In Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences) and published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recalled:

“A huge picture window in the living room, famous for its size and the fact that it could be lowered, was Hitler s pride.  It offered a view of the Untersberg, Berchtesgaden, and Salzburg. However, Hitler had been inspired to situate his garage underneath this window; when the wind was unfavorable, a strong smell of gasoline penetrated into the living room.  All in all, this was a ground plan that would have been graded D by any professor at an institute of technology. On the other hand, these very clumsinesses gave the Berghof a strongly personal note. The place was still geared to the simple activities of a former weekend cottage, merely expanded to vast proportions.”

He commented also on the pillowshams: “The furniture was bogus old- German peasant style and gave the house a comfortable petit-bourgeois look.  A brass canary cage, a cactus, and a rubber plant intensified this impression.  There were swastikas on knickknacks and pillows embroidered by admiring women, combined with, say, a rising sun or a vow of "eternal loyalty."  Hitler commented to me with some embarrassment: "I know these are not beautiful things, but many of them are presents.  I shouldn't like to part with them."

Life’s assessment of Hitler’s alternative career path as an interior decorator wasn’t the first time the observation had been made of a head of state & government.  Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924; US president 1913-1921) had gone to the Paris Peace Conference (1919) determined above all to secure the agreement of all parties to the creation of the League of Nations (1920-1946) and this he pursued with a vigour not matched by other leaders present, all of who had a focus on the immediate needs of their own countries.  Wilson, knowing political pressure on him was rising in the US and whose health had long been fragile, found the negotiations exhausting and doctors in recent years have concluded he likely suffered several small strokes while in Paris, a prelude to the major event later in the year which substantially would incapacity him for the remainder of his presidency.

Wilson’s personal physician (Cary Grayson (1878–1938) had accompanied him to the conference and in his diary noted one manifestation of what he described as “the strain” when, after hours of “intense discussion” on matters ranging from tiresome US senators to the treaty terms sought by the delegation from Japan to the arraignment of the former Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941; German Emperor & King of Prussia 1888-1918), the president suddenly made an announcement.

“I don’t like the way the colors of this furniture fight each other. The greens and the reds are all mixed up here and there is no harmony.  Here is a big purple, high-backed covered chair, which is like the Purple Cow, strayed off to itself, and it is placed where the light shines on it too brightly.  If you will give me a lift, we will move this next to the wall where the light from the window will give it a subdued effect.  And here are two chairs, one green and the other red.  This will never do.  Let’s put the greens all together and the reds together.”  He went on to relate to his doctor how at the “Council of Four” (the leaders of France, Italy, the US & UK) meeting how “…each delegation walked like schoolchildren each day to its respective corner.  Now, with the furniture regrouped, he said each country would sit according to its color.”  Dr Grayson attributed the “aberrant behaviour” to “stress” and prescribed only going for a drive in an automobile, remarking to his patient: “I think if you ever want a job after leaving the presidency you would make a great success as an interior decorator.”  Wilson concurred, answering: “I don’t mean to throw bouquets at myself but I do think that I have made a success of the arrangement of the furniture.”

Woodrow Wilson’s bedroom in the Washington DC townhouse where he lived after leaving office.

Mrs Wilson fitted-out the bedroom on S Street, Kalorama almost to exactly replicate the one he’d used at the White House, down to the footrests, pillows and reading lights.  Mrs Wilson commissioned the bed to be exactly the imposing dimensions (8 feet, 6 inches x 6 feet, 6 inches (2590 x 1981 mm)) of the White House’s Lincoln Bed; built in Grand Rapids, Michigan in a colonial revival style, it's made of mahogany.  After his stroke in October, 1919, Wilson substantially was confined to his bed and it was in this bed he died on 3 February, 1924, aged 67.  He was buried at the Washington National Cathedral, the only US president whose body lies in the national capital.

The "furniture incident" is now assessed in the light of the knowledge of the president’s previous neurological issues and analysts since have compared the behaviour to that of the anorexic who takes control of their diet because it is one thing they are able completely and immediately to control, in contrast to other aspects of their life which they have come to believe they are unable to influence and neurologists who have written on the subject do seem to agree a stroke would likely have induced the episode.  In October 1919, shortly after returning to the US, Wilson suffered a major stroke, us stroke, leaving him paralyzed on his left side, and with only partial vision in the right eye.  Despite this, he continued in office until his term expired in 1921 though he was physically isolated and few were able to see him except his wife and doctor, a situation not greatly different from the situation in 1953 when Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) son-in-law for months acted as something of a prime-ministerial proxy in the aftermath of Churchill’s massive stroke.  The ad-hoc apparatus constructed by Mrs Wilson and Dr Grayson had led some claim she was, in effect, the nation’s “first female president” and while that’s drawing a long bow, it was something discussed in 2024 when Joe Biden’s (b 1942; US president 2021-2025) descent into senility was a topic of interest.  The roles played by of Dr Grayson, Lord Moran (Charles Wilson, 1882-1977, personal physician to prime minister Winston Churchill) and Ross McIntire (1889–1959; personal physician to Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945)) remain controversial and reflect the sometimes conflicting duality of responsibility a physician has (1) to their patient and (2) their patient’s position as head of government.

Lindsay Lohan themed pillows are available.

“Pillow dictionary” was a synonym of “sleeping dictionary” (a sexual partner who also serves as a native informant or language teacher for an outsider).  It was thus something of a euphemism for a tutor in a foreign language who, as is implied, gives “tuition in bed”; the term said (as might be expected) to be used more commonly used by men of women than vice versa.  Those who practice hypnopaedic techniques use a different kind of dictionary.  Hypnopedia (or hypnopædia) was a form of “sleep-learning (or sleep-teaching) and was an attempt to convey information to a sleeping person, typically by playing a sound recording to them while they sleep.  Because the role of sleep in memory consolidation had come to be understood, the hypothesis of hypnopedia was not unreasonable but it has been wholly discredited.

The “pillow fight” (a form of domestic mock-combat fought using pillows as weapons) is presumably a most ancient practice but the first known reference is from 1837.  Pillows being much associated with beds, in idiomatic use, the pillow naturally features in phrases associated with sex.  The slang “pillow talk” (relaxed, intimate conversation between a couple in bed) is doubtlessly more ancient still but the term may not have been used prior to 1939 and it now carries the implication of some indiscrete disclosure, often in the context of politics or espionage).  A “pillow word” was a calque of the Japanese 枕詞 (makurakotoba) and described the use in Waka (和歌) (Japanese poem) of a poetic device in which a certain introductory phrase is commonly used to allude to something else.

Jeremy Thorpe arriving at Minehead Magistrates Court, 4 December 1978, for the committal proceedings against him and three others on charges of conspiring to murder former male model Norman Scott.  Ultimately Mr Thorpe was acquitted of all charges.  The car is a Rover 3500S.  3500S was the original designation of the 3500s sold during the model's abortive foray into the US market but elsewhere was used to designate the version offered with a four-speed manual transmission (1971-1977), the original introduced in 1968 exclusively in automatic form.

A “pillow queen” was a woman concerned only with her own gratification during sex and interestingly, the equivalent creature among lesbians was apparently more often a “pillow princess”, both classified as “takers” rather than “givers”, the synonyms in the vernacular including “stone”, “rock”, “slate”, “cold fish”, “dead fish” and “starfish”.  The more evocative phrase “pillow-biter” seems first to have entered general use after it was used by Norman Scott (b 1940) when giving evidence in the 1979 trial of Jeremy Thorpe (1929–2014; leader of the UK Liberal Party 1967-1976), the witness describing the way he handled his unwilling participation as the alleged victim of Mr Thorpe committing upon him what in some jurisdictions used to be called “the abominable crime of buggery”: “I just bit the pillow, I tried not to scream because I was frightened of waking Mrs Thorpe.”  A pillow-biter is thus (in certain circles of the LGBTQQIAAOP communities) a “gay man who engages in passive anal sex”; a “bottom”, as opposed to Mr Thorpe who allegedly was a “top”.

Pillowbook describes a journal-type book kept to record sexual dreams and escapades, most intended only for the eyes of the writer.  It was a specific form of a quite commonplace book which appears to have originated in Japan as a compilation of notes & jottings, those periodic or occasional writings that might go into an extended diary.  The most famous example (and among the earliest extant) was the The Pillow Book (枕草子) (Makura no Sōshi) (Notes of the Pillow), a volume of observations and musings recorded by Sei Shōnagon (清少納言), circa 966–circa 1020, a lady of the court to Fujiwara no Teishi (藤原 定子) 977–1001 (known also as Sadako), an empress consort of the Japanese Emperor Ichijō (一条天皇) (Ichijō-tennō), 980–1011; 66^th emperor of Japan, 986-1011; the last entries in the book were made in the year 1002.  According to Japanese legend, the origin of the pillow book lies in a bundle of unused notebooks being brought to the empress who began musing on what should be done with them.  The lady-in-waiting suggested she should have them and make them into a pillow (which meant putting them into the drawers of “a wooden pillow” (a part of the Japanese sleeping apparatus).  Subsequently, she filled the notebooks with random facts, lists and discursive jottings and from this tradition came the traditional Japanese genre zuihitsu (随筆) (occasional writings) which exists still, describing a form of literature consisting of loosely connected personal essays and fragmentary ideas typically influenced by the author's surroundings and daily interactions with them.

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency brochure.

“Loose pillow” upholstery had been in furniture for a while, implemented usually as detachable cushions designed to be removed for cleaning but it was Oldsmobile which first used the concept for automobiles.  Since the mid 1960s “luxury” versions (as opposed to mere “deluxe” editions which often included just a bundle of options anyway available on a “standard” car at a discount compared with ordering them individually) had begun to appear and this would evolve into what came to be called “the great Brougham era”.  That term seems to have been invented by Curbside Classic, a curated website which is a gallimaufry of interesting content, built around the theme of once-familiar and often everyday vehicles which are now a rare sight until discovered by Curbside Classic’s contributors (who self-style as "curbivores"), parked next to some curb.  These are the often the machines neglected by automotive historians and collectors who prefer things which are fast, lovely and rare.  According to Curbside Classic, the “great brougham era” began in 1965 with the release of the LTD option for the mass-market Ford Galaxie and that approach was nothing new because even the Galaxie name had in 1959 been coined for a "luxury" version of the Fairlane 500, a trick the US industry had been using for some time.

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency brochure.  When the tufted, pillowed option was chosen in red velour, it was known casually as "mid-priced bordello chic".

Once, Detroit’s most elaborate interiors had been restricted to the top-of the range models (Cadillac, Lincoln & Imperial) but when Oldsmobile in introduced the “Regency” option for their Ninety-Eight range, it was quite a jump in middle-class opulence and it must have been galling for Cadillac: Oldsmobile, two notches down the GM pecking list from Cadillac had in one stroke out-done Cadillac’s interiors with not just tufted velour upholstery but the novelty also of the welcoming loose pillow style.  Cadillac had nothing like it but scrambled to respond, offering in 1973 the d'Elegance package, a US$750 option which included pillow-style velour seating as well as a more plush carpeting and bundled a few of the otherwise optional features.

1974 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman rear compartment in blue velour with optional pillows.  The pillows (which many would have described as "cushions") were also available on Talismans trimmed in leather.  The world should have more leather pillows but, unfortunately, while "Cadillac pillows" are available, they come only in fabric.  The so-called "holy grail" among Talisman collectors is a 1974 model in blue leather which was listed as a factory option but no such machine has ever been sighted and Cadillac's production records don't provide a color breakdown.  It's thought likely none were ever built.

However, all the d'Elegance bling did was match what others were doing and there was still the corporate memory of the Cadillac mystique, a hankering for the time when Cadillac had been the “standard of the world”, a reputation built in the 1930s on basic engineering such as almost unique sixteen cylinder engines and maintained a generation later with cars such as the Eldorado Brougham, times when the name stood for something truly impressive.  By 1974 the world had changed and such extravagances were no longer possible but what could still be done was to add more gingerbread and for 1974, Cadillac announced the Talisman package.  Much more expensive than the d'Elegance and consequently more exclusive, the Talisman included an extended centre console, the front section housing an illumined writing tablet, the rear a storage compartment.  This had been done before but never with this opulence although it had the effect of reducing the huge car, a size which historically been a six-seater, into something strictly for four.  The interior was available in four colors in "Medici" crushed velour at US$1800 or in two shades in leather at US$2450 at a time when the Chevrolet Vega, GM’s entry-level automobile of the era cost US$2087.  The Talisman additionally gained matching deep-pile interior carpeting and floor-mats, a fully padded elk grain vinyl roof, exterior badge identifications, a stand-up, full-color wreath and crest hood ornament and unique wheel-covers.  For those who needed more, for an additional US$85, a matching pillow and robe was available although the robe unfortunately wasn't cut in leather.  Optioned with the leather package, a 1974 Cadillac Talisman cost about US$13,200, matching what the company charged for the even bigger Fleetwood Seventy-Five limousines.  The additional gingerbread wasn’t all that expensive to produce; what Cadillac was selling was exclusivity and the market responded, 1898 Talismans coming off the production line that year, all sold at a most impressive profit.  Most prized today are the relative handful trimmed in leather, the urban legend being all were in medium saddle with none in the dark blue which was listed on the option list.  If any were sold with the blue leather, none appear now to exist and Cadillac’s records don’t record the breakdown.

1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut leather (though not actually “fine Corinthian leather” which was exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983)) until 1975 when not only did the Imperial's brochures mention "genuine Corinthian leather (available at extra cost)" but for the first time since 1954 the range was referred to as the "Chrysler Imperial", a harbinger the brand was about to be retired.  Imperial's advertising copy noted of the brochure photograph above: “...while the passenger restraint system with starter interlock is not shown, it is standard on all Imperials.”  The marketing types didn't like seat-belts messing up their photos.

Fashions change and the 1997 Buick Park Avenue (right) was the last of the "pillowed cars".  The loose pillow style certainly caught on although the name was a little misleading because the pillows were loose only in the sense of moving a little to accommodate the frames sitting on them and were not removable.  In the showroom they looked good and attracted many buyers but were noted also for the propensity to trap crumbs, small coins and the other detritus of life in the many folds, tufts and crevasses.  The fad lasted for more than a generation and Detroit’s last fling of the pillow was the 1997 Buick Park Avenue.

1972 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) and 1977 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham four-door hardtop (right).

Chrysler corporation’s implementation of the “loose pillow look” was the industry’s most sumptuous and on the more expensive in the range, the look extended even to “built-in foam pillows” affixed to the C-Pillars, a luxury for dozing customers and these were the sort of cars which were famous for “floating” effortlessly down freeways so it probably wasn’t uncommon for folk in the back to be lulled into sleep; the huge machines of the 1970s were nicknamed “land yachts” with good reason.  The pillows also proved to be dual-purpose.  Between 1969-1973, the Imperial’s rear map-reading lamps (maps used to be printed on paper) were located next to the rear windscreen and while they worked as intended, they had a sort of “stuck-on” look which didn’t suit the ambiance of the interior.  When illuminated, they also glowed in the driver’s rear-view mirror and because the stylists were anyway intending to better integrate the units, it was decided to do so in such a way that would make the light unobtrusive for the driver, removing a potential distraction.  The new design made it debut with the 1974 range.

1974 Imperial LeBaron brochure.

Chrysler made many mistakes during the 1970s but the basic engineering was usually sound and the new map-reading lamps were indicative of the approach.  Not only did the new lamps offer “increased luminosity” but the glow was now “warmer and softer” which sounds like advertising “puffery” but the terms are an accepted part of the jargon of light and the wider aperture of the lens meant what was cast was in a broader beam, better suited to maps or anything else being read.  The shape of the built-in foam pillows was used also to ensure the light couldn’t distract the driver, the engineers devoting some energy to working out just how much padding should be used to achieve this, while not detracting from the lamp’s functionality.  On the four-door models, there was also on each C-Pillar a “lavalier strap”.  “Lavalier” is a term from jewellery design which describes a pendant (typically with a single stone) suspended from a necklace and presumably Chrysler’s marketing department thought that sounded much better than the more brutish “grab handle”.  The jewellery style was named after Françoise-Louise de La Baume Le Blanc, Duchess of La Vallière and Vaujours (1644–1710) who was, between 1661-1667, the mistress of Louis XIV (1638–1715; le Roi Soleil (the Sun King), King of France 1643-1715); it’s said the use of her name for the pendants was based on the frequency with which such objects appeared in her many portraits.

Junk

Junk (pronounced juhngk)

(1) In historic nautical use, old cable or cordage used when untwisted for making gaskets, maps, swabs etc and (when picked apart), the oakum used for filling the seams of wooden ships.

(2) A fragment of any solid substance; a thick piece; a chunk (obsolete).

(3) Old, damaged or discarded material (metal, paper, rags et al).

(4) Anything regarded as worthless, meaningless, or contemptible; nonsense; gibberish.

(5) Anything judged cheap or trashy.

(6) In slang, the narcotic heroin (used casually of other injected drugs, the users thus “junkies”).

(7) In historic sailor’s slang, as saltjunk, the salted beef or pork used as rations on long voyages, the origin being the comparisons in taste and texture made with junk (frayed old rope).

(8) In slang, the external genitalia (especially of a male if used as a target in unarmed combat).

(9) In baseball slang, relatively slow, unorthodox pitches, deceptive to the batter in movement or pace (knuckleballs, forkballs et al).

(10) A sea-going sailing vessel with a traditional Chinese design and used primarily in Chinese waters, having square sails spread by battens, a high stern (poop deck) and (usually) a flat bottom.

(11) A sperm whale equivalent of the melon (cetacean)

(12) To cast aside as junk; discard as no longer of use; to scrap.

1350-1400: From the Middle English joynk & junke (old refuse from boats and ships), from the earlier nautical sense of “old rope or cable”, and the use of junk to describe “old rope and such” may have been influenced by the words “join, joint &, juncture”.  The Middle English junk, jonk, jounke, jonke & junck (a rush; basket made of rushes), from the Old French jonc or junc (rush, reed (also used figuratively to describe “something of little value”), from the Latin iuncus (rush, reed) was once often cited as a source but etymologists have concluded there’s “no evidence of connection”.  In nautical use, the extension from “old rope & cables” to “old refuse from boats, ships & ports” had occurred by the 1660s, travelling inland to “old or discarded articles of any kind” by the late nineteenth century, initially with the implication of reusability.(following the naval tradition with rope) as opposed to “scrap” which (except for metals) had an air of finality.  Saltjunk (salt beef or pork used on long voyages) was first recorded in 1762, the slang for heroin (later used loosely of other injected narcotics) dates from 1925, junk food (the term rather than the product” first appeared in the US in 1971, the culinary equivalent of junk art (from a decade earlier and used by conservative critics to decry some modern art).  Junk mail (unsolicited advertizing delivered to the letterbox was so described in 1954 and was later re-used for the electronic version (“junk email” thought just a letter too much and never caught on) while the term junk bond (a financial instrument (originally bonds) rated below “investment grade” due to a high risk of default by the issuer and thus offered at a high interest rate) emerged in 1979.  The verb, dating from 1803, also owed something the old nautical practice of “cutting up ropes for other purposes” in that it conveyed the idea of “to cut off in lumps”, the modern sense of “to throw away as trash, to scrap” appearing a century-odd later.  The synonyms can thus (depending on context) be rubbish, trash, rubble, debris, detritus, refuse, litter or clutter while (in the sense of (to throw away) they include bin, chuck, chuck away, chuck out, discard, dispose of, ditch, dump, scrap, throw away, throw out, toss or trash.  Junk is a noun & verb, junkie & junker are nouns, junky is a noun & adjective, junklike, junkier & junkiest are adjectives and junked & junking are verbs; the noun plural is junk or (of the sailing vessels) junks.

The use to describe the Chinese sailing vessels dates from 1545–1555 and was from the Portuguese junco, either from or influenced by the Dutch jonk, from the Arabic جُنْك (junk), from the thirteenth century Malay (Austronesian) jong (large boat, ship) or Javanese djong (a variant of djung), from the Old Javanese jong (seagoing ship), ultimately from either the Hokkien 船 (chûn) or the Teochew 船 (zung), from the Proto-Min -džion (ship, boat).  The use in Malay may have been influence by the dialectal Chinese (Xiamen) chûn (which may be compared with the Guangdong (Cantonese) dialect syùhn, and the (Mandarin) Chinese chuán).  In sixteenth century English use it was recorded as giunche & iunco.  Unrelated words include junket and the German Junker.  Junket was from the Middle English jonket (basket made of rushes; food, probably made of sour milk or cream; banquet, feast), from the Medieval Latin iuncta, possibly from the Latin iuncus (rush, reed) and thus possible a doublet of jonquil (a species of daffodil and a shade of yellow).  By the 1520s the meaning had shifted to “feast or banquet”, presumably because of the association with “picnic basket”, leading to the early nineteenth century notion of a “pleasure-trip” which later evolved by the 1880s to mean “a trip made ostensibly for business but which is really for leisure or entertainment”.  Junkets remain common (often well-disguised for expense-claim purposes) and in the gambling business, a junket is a gaming room for which the capacity and limits change daily, often rented out to private vendors who run tour groups through them and give a portion of the proceeds to the main casino.  The idea of a junket being “a delicacy” or “a basket” is long obsolete but remains a culinary niche, describing a dessert made of sweetened curds; it was originally a type of cream cheese, the name gained from it being originally prepared and served in a rush basket.  The English Junker was from the German Junker, from the Middle High German juncherre (young lord; not yet knighted nobleman).  As a term it became associated with Prussia militarism and was used to refer to the stereotypical “narrow-minded and anti-liberal, authoritarian attitudes associated with the “Junker class” (the sometimes impoverished) land-owners of “great Prussian estates”, the families which provided the so many of the officer class of the Prussian and later Imperial German Armies (thus “junkerdom”, “junkerish” & “junkerism” entering the language of political science).

Stocking up: Lindsay Lohan buying junk food, Los Angeles, October, 2008.

Junk is widely used in derived terms and idiomatic forms including “Jesus junk” (Christian-specific junk mail or other merchandize), “hunk of junk” (a term which adds no meaning but is a compelling rhyme (compared with “heap of junk”, “pile of junk” “load of junk”, all of which mean the same thing) and often heard in IT departments when discussing components more than a year old), “junkaholic” (either a hoarder of what others perceive as junk or an individual who consumes much junk food), “junkhead” (either a drug user or addict (ie a synonym of “junkie”) or in engineering, an always unusual (no close to extinct) design of internal combustion engine (ICE) in which the cylinder head is formed by a dummy piston mounted inside the top of the cylinder, “junk news” (a early 1980s critique of “journalism” consisting of sensationalized trivia (as opposed to the later “fake news” which was intended to mislead rather than being merely entertaining)), “Junk DNA” (in earlier use in genetics, “any portion of the DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid; the so-called “building blocks” or “framework of life”) sequence of a chromosome or a genome with no apparent function” (the term “non-functional DNA” now preferred because there’s now a greater understanding of what was one dismissed as “junk DNA”), “junk in the trunk” (having a big butt), “junk shop” (a shop selling second-hand goods, originally cheap but there are now some “junk shops” with some high-priced items), “ junk drawer” (the place designated for the storage of various miscellaneous, small, but (at least potentially) useful items (and apparently usually the third-drawer down in the kitchen); some residences even have a “junk room”), “junk science” (assertions or methods expressed in the language of science but either with no scientific legitimacy or with data interpreted in a misleading manner), “junk conference” (a nominally “academic” conference run for other purposes (holiday junkets, commercial promotion etc), “junk job” (used variously of employment thought boring, pointless, disrespectable or offering no obvious social benefit, “junkware” (in computing, (1) malicious or unwanted software or (2) software which is buggy or doesn’t work), “junkshot” (in oil drilling, a method to shut off a faulty blowout preventer (BOP) by injecting the BOP with material which will “choke off” the hole), “space junk” (the objects in orbit around the Earth that were created by human activity but which now serve no useful purpose and can be a hazard to satellites (known also as “space debris”), “junk hook” (in whaling, a hook designed for handling or extracting the unwanted material (junk) from the head of a whale) “junkman” (one who works in a “junk yard” (a place where scrapped items (typically cars) are sold for parts or metal recycling).

A little corner in the late Rudi Klein's junkyard, Los Angeles, California.

In the junkyard business, in some jurisdictions, there are cars with “salvage titles” and “junk titles”, both designations related to the condition of a vehicle but serving different purposes and reflecting distinct stages in a vehicle’s lifecycle and potential future.  A Salvage Title can be issued when a vehicle has been damaged or declared a total loss by an insurance company, typically because exceeds a certain percentage of the car's assessed value (75-90%, depending on local regulations).  Despite that, a with a salvage title may be repairable and returned to the road after undergoing proper repairs and inspections although the title usually significantly reduces the resale value and can be a factor in insurance companies limiting or denying subsequent coverage.  A Junk Title (also known as a “Certificate of Destruction”) can be issued for a vehicle that considered irreparable or not safe for use on public roads and thus suitable only for scrap or the salvaging of usable parts.  Once a junk title is issued, the vehicle cannot be registered or driven on public roads again, unlike a salvage title vehicle which can be repaired or restored.  Informally, the terms “junkyard” and “scrapyard” are used interchangeably and while there used to be many “car wreckers”, of late, environmentally respectable titles like “recycling centre” have come into vouge.

The Junkyard: The Rudi Klein Collection

Although well-known in the collector community for its large stocks of rusty and wrecked Porsches, Mercedes-Benz and other notable vehicles from the post-war years, the Californian “junkyard” belonging to Rudi Klein (1936-2001) attracted world-wide interest when details were published of the gems which had for decades been secreted in a large and secure shed on the site.  Mr Klein was a German butcher who in the late 1950s emigrated to the US to work at his trade but quickly discovered a more enjoyable and lucrative living could be had dealing in damaged or wrecked European cars, sometimes selling the whole vehicles and sometimes the parts (“parting out” in junkyard parlance).  His Porsche Foreign Auto business had operated for some time before he received a C&D (cease & desist) letter from the German manufacturer’s US attorneys, the result being the name change in 1967 to Porche (sic) Foreign Auto.

Three dusty Lamborghini P400 Miuras in a corner of Mr Klein's now famous shed.

Unlike many collectors, Mr Klein amassed his collection unobtrusively and, astonishingly to many, apparently with little interest in turning a profit on the rarest, despite some of them coming to be worth (at the time of his death), over a million US dollars.  In the way of such things, just what sat unseen in the big shed was the stuff of speculation and rumor, the mystery enhanced by tales of Mr Klein turning the junkyard’s dogs (“junkyard dog” itself an idiomatic use suggesting the particularly aggressive type of canine associated with such a role and applied figuratively also to people of similar temperament) on those who ventured too close to the locked doors although some trusted souls apparently were give a tour on the basis of maintaining the secret and it seems all respected the confidence.  After Mr Klein died in 2001, his two sons preserved the collection untouched but in October 2024, a series of rolling sales will be conducted by the auction house Sotheby’s.

Period photograph of the 1935 Mercedes-Benz 500 K Special Coupé (the “Caracciola Coupé” Roadster-Limousine).

Undoubtedly, the star of the show will be the 1935 Mercedes-Benz 500 K Special Coupé, built by Sindelfingen (the factory’s in-house coach-building house) for the three-time European Grand Prix Championship winner Rudolf Caracciola (1901-1959).  The leading driver of the Mercedes-Benz racing team, it was said of him by Alfred Neubauer (1891–1980; racing manager of the Mercedes-Benz competition department 1926-1955): “He never really learned to drive, he just felt it, the talent came to him instinctively”.  The one-off 500 K (W29, deconstructed as 5.0 litre (306 cubic inch) straight-eight with kompressor (supercharger)) was a “gift” (ie part of his “package” as a factory driver) and confusingly tagged (the build-sheet is included in the documentation) by Sindelfingen as a “Roadster-Limousine” which neither etymologically nor by coach-building conventions makes sense but was explained by the car being “built on the chassis of a 500 K Special Roadster with limousine-like fittings & appointments.”  As a basis, the sleek 500 K Special Roadster was illustrious enough, described in the post-war years as “the brightest glint of a golden age” so the lines and unique provenance of the “Caracciola Coupé” will attract much interest.

The “Caracciola Coupé” in Mr Klein's shed

It’s believed Caracciola used the car until the late 1930s when it is said to have passed into the hands of Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1944), notable both for his entertaining (if not wholly reliable) diaries and having married the daughter of Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943).  The marriage was certainly a good career move (the Italians would joke of the one they called “ducellio”: “the son-in-law also rises”) although things didn’t end well, Il Duce having him shot (at the insistence of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945), something which over the years must have drawn the envy of many a father-in-law (and the sentiment was expressed by Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who didn't always approve of his daughters' choices).  There seems to be no evidence of Count Ciano’s stewardship but even if not true, it’s certainly the sort of car he’d liked to have owned.  Things become murky after the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945) but in 1962 it was discovered in Ethiopia, covered in tarpaulins and hidden in a manure pile.  That may hint at a (probably unrelated) connection between count & car because in 1935, during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War (the last war of the era of European colonialism which even at the time seemed to many an embarrassing anachronism), Ciano had commanded the Regia Aeronautica's (Royal Air Force) 15th Bomber Flight (nicknamed La Disperata (the desperate ones)) in air-raids on primitive tribes during the Italian invasion, being awarded the Medaglia d'argento al valor militare (Silver Medal of Military Valor), prompting some to observe he deserved a gold medal for bravery in accepting a silver one, his time in the air having hardly exposed him to danger.

The “Caracciola Coupé”, "Best in Class" winner, Pebble Beach, Monterey County, California, 1978.

The coupé in 1963 then travelled to the US where it was subject to an 18 month restoration before being entered in the 1966 Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, finishing second in class, behind a Bugatti Royale (type 41), beginning a 13 year career as a fixture on the North American concours & classic car circuit becoming, a little ironically given its later 44-year hiatus, one of best-known Mercedes-Benz of the “supercharger era”.  Back on the manicured lawns of Pebble Beach in 1978, it went one better than a decade earlier, this time taking first in class and in 1979 it was purchased by Mr Klein who exhibited at a show at least once.  After that, it was left to languish in the big shed but it remained solid, mechanically original (apparently, in the restoration only the paint, chrome, upholstery and perishable parts were replaced) so as re-commissioning projects go, while unlikely to be “cheap”, it won’t be intimidating.  Sotheby’s haven’t published a price estimate but most are suggesting it should achieve between US$3-4 million.

Out in the California sun: The Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster & aluminum Gullwing with the one-off Iso Griffo A3/L Spider prototype behind the roadster, sitting beneath a Facel Vega HK500.

At auction also among dozens will be a 1957 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster, a rare (one of 29) 1955, aluminum-bodied Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing (long thought lost and likely to realize close to US$10 million), a trio of damaged Lamborghini P400 Miuras, the one-off Iso Griffo A3/L Spider prototype (which will need to have its unique front coachwork re-created but will still command over US$1 million) and a 1939 Horch 855 Special Roadster, always prized for its rakish lines and the only 855 known to have survived the war.

Holy

Holy (pronounced hoh-lee)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Holy Alliance

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

The origin of the Holy Alliance, 1815.

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

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

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

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

Of unholy alliances

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

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

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

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

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