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 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 essentially created 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 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.  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).

A 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.

Corinthian

Corinthian (kuh-rin-thee-uhn)

(1) Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of Corinth, the ancient Greek city-state.

(2) An native, inhabitant or resident of Corinth, and its suburbs.

(3) Something with origins in Corinthia.

(4) One of the five styles of classical architecture in Ancient Greece (the others being Doric, Composite, Tuscan & Ionic).

(5) Something ornate and elaborate; something luxurious or extravagantly trimmed

(6) In literacy criticism, an ornate style (an alternative to describing such writing as "rococo" or "baroque" but distinct from "purple").

(7) Someone given to living luxuriously; dissolute.

(8) A worldly, fashionable person, accepted in society although thought by some to be raffish.

(9) An amateur sportsman; an accomplished amateur athlete (archaic).

(10) A sailboat owner who helms his or her own boat in competitive racing.

(11) A phony descriptor of a type of leather used by Chrysler Corporation in the US during the 1970s.

1350–1400: From the Middle English Corinthi(es) (the men of Corinth) from the Latin Corinthiī from the Greek Korínthioi.  The sense “of or pertaining to Corinth" (the ancient Greek city-state) is from the 1590s and gradually, it replaced the mid-fifteenth adjective Corynthoise.  The sense as a classification in what was becoming a formalised architectural order is from the 1650s.  The noun meaning literally "inhabitant of Corinth" dates from the 1520s; Corinthies was attested from the late fourteenth century.  During Antiquity, other Greek cities regarded the inhabitants of Corinth as a bit gauche, noting their preference for ornate, almost ostentatious architecture and their notorious fondness for luxury and licentiousness.  There was intellectual snobbery among the Athenians too, the Corinthians thought too interested in commerce and profit and not sufficiently devoted to thought and learning.  Corinthian the noun and adjective thus, in various slang or colloquial senses in English, came to be associated with extravagance, sin and conspicuous consumption, especially in the decades after the 1820s.  Corinthian is a noun & adjective, Corinthianism is a noun and Corinthianize, Corinthianizing & Corinthianized are verbs; the noun plural is Corinthians.

The dapper Franz von Papen while serving as Germany's ambassador to Turkey (1939-1944).

In a nod to Paul's writings in the New Testament, the verb Corinthianize came to mean “to be licentious or sexually immoral” while the companion noun Corinthianism described licentious or sexually immoral behaviour.  Softened a little, by the eighteenth century, “a Corinthian” could be used also of a chap a bit raffish but verging on socially respectable and welcomed in at least some polite circles.  Presumably by association, the word came to be used also of sporting events (originally horse racing and yachting) which were restricted to “gentleman amateurs”.  Thus the old rogue Franz von Papen (1879-1969; Chancellor of Germany 1932 & vice chancellor 1933-1934), an accomplished amateur jockey, could have been called “a Corinthian” and the sly fox demonstrated his defensive skills when he gained one of three acquittals handed down the IMT (International Military Tribunal) during the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946).  Although unrelated to the verdict, the journalists accredited to the trial voted him “best-dressed defendant”.

A tattoo Lindsay Lohan tattoo (inked in 2013), inspired by 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.

In scripture, the implications of that association were later reflected in the New Testament, most memorably in Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians (2 Corinthians 1).  The second letter is thought to have been written circa 56 AD, shortly after he penned the first and was addressed to the Christian community in city of Corinth, a major trading centre which, although by then noted for its rich artistic and philosophic traditions, was a place also of vice and depravity.  It was this last aspect that compelled Paul’s first letter to the Corinthian church and in it he sharply rebuked them for permitting immoral practices in the community.  In response, the Corinthians had cracked-down on some of the worst excesses and Paul wrote his second letter to congratulate them on their reforms and even commended forgiving sinners and welcoming them back to the flock.  Harsh though his words could be, Paul’s preference is always restoration, not punishment.  The letter then discusses some sometimes neglected characteristics of the Christian church such as generosity to others and devotes some time to defending himself against attacks on his ministry, reminding the Corinthians both of his own poverty and the harsh reality of what it meant to be a minister of Christ in the Roman empire: beatings, imprisonment, hunger, and the constant threat of death.  In the King James Version (KJV; 1611) 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 read:

4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

Most quoted now are modern translations which are more accessible such as the International Bible Society's (now Biblica) New International Version (NIV; 1978):

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

In Paul’s prescriptive way, verses 4-7 details the workings of love in three steps.  There are firstly the positive aspects of love being patient and kind but then elaborated are the eight negatives love must never be: not jealous, boastful, arrogant, rude, irritable or resentful, nor does it insist upon its own way or gloat at wrong.  Finally, Paul notes the five positive ways in which love reacts, joining in rejoicing at truth, supports, believes, hopes and endures all things.  Verse 8 returns to the theme of superiority of love but explicates the contrast between love and spiritual gifts as the contrast between permanence and transience; spiritual gifts which are incomplete will pass when wholeness comes whereas love will not.  The contrast is thus between the perfect and imperfect.

United States Supreme Court Building (1935), looking towards the West Pediment.

The Corinthian style of architecture was one of the five classical orders created in Ancient Greece.  Similar in many ways to the Ionic, the points of difference were (1) the unusually slender proportions, (2) the deep capital with its round bell, decorated with acanthus leaves and a square abacus with concave sides.  The Corinthian capital typically has two distinct rows of acanthus leaves above which appear eight fluted sheaths, from each of which spring two scrolls (helices), one of which curls beneath a corner of the abacus as half of a volute while the other curls beneath the centre of the abacus.  The marble pillars used on the east and west pediments of the United States Supreme Court Building, constructed between 1932-1935, are a fine example of the Corinthian style.

United States Supreme Court Building, East Pediment.

Much less known than the more frequently photographed West Pediment, the East Pediment of the Supreme Court Building is at the rear of the structure and is much admired by architects because of the elegance of the thirteen symmetrically balanced allegorical figures in the sculptural group designed by Hermon A MacNeil (1866–1947).  The ornate details in the two rows of acanthus leaves are the defining characteristic of the Corinthian pillar.

Manuel Esteve Guerrero (1905-1976) in Corinthian helmet, 1938.  The casual pose, cigarette in hand, a cloak (resembling a Greek chlamys) slung over one shoulder, indicates the image was for “non-professional” use.

Manuel Esteve Guerrero had begun his academic studies at the University of Granada studying law but such was his interest in archaeology he switched disciplines, taking a degree in philosophy and literature, specializing in art history.  After working for some years as a teacher at the Padre Luis Coloma Institute, he was in 1931 appointed director of the Jerez Municipal Library (1873) when he remained until retirement in 1975, his most controversial duty in the role the period in the 1930s & 1940s when he was vested with responsibility for enforcing the strict censorship policies imposed by the newly established fascist regime Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975).  That would have been no small task because, under the caudillo, the index of proscribed texts was long.  As librarian, he was also, ex officio, municipal archaeologist and in 1938 his team made the remarkable discovery of a well-preserved Corinthian helmet, unearthed some 20 kilometres (12 miles) from the mouth of the Guadalete River, near the now-decommissioned irrigation dam known as La Corta, close to El Portal in the municipality of Jerez.  The significance of the artefact (widely publicized on both sides of the Atlantic as “Discovery of a Greek Helmet in the Guadalete”) was the confirmation of the long-suspected Greek presence in Andalusia during the seventh & sixth centuries BC.

Publicity shot for Chrysler Corporation's 1974 Imperial LeBaron Four-Door Hardtop, trimmed in chestnut tufted leather.

The hide in the 1974 Imperials wasn't described as “rich Corinthian leather” which was (mostly) exclusive to the Cordoba (1975-1983) until late 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.  While all of the big three (GM, Ford & Chrysler) had tufted interiors in some lines, it was Chrysler which displayed the most commitment to the motif.  Although Chrysler mostly used the term “rich Corinthian leather” in the sales material for the Cordoba, after it appear in the brochures for the last (for a while) Imperial, it became common to refer thus to the leather in any of the corporation's cars of the era.  Some did with a sense of irony while some innocent souls actually believed it.  Manufacturers do like words which might evoke a "certain something" and in the 1970s Rolls-Royce advertised their timber veneer as "Circassian walnut cut from century-old trees" which was a correct term for Juglans regia (a species of walnut) but the stuff was more typically called "English walnut" or "common walnut".  Neither would have been though suitable and for Rolls-Royce to use "common" about any of their products would have been unthinkable.

1975 Imperial LeBaron Four Door Hardtop.

"Rich Corinthian leather" was a term coined by the Bozell advertising agency in 1975 to describe the tufted upholstery available as an alternative to the standard velour in the Chrysler Cordoba, the hides in corporation's products trimmed with the same leather produced by the Radel Leather Manufacturing Company of New Jersey described only as "leather" (except for the reference in certain advertising for the 1975 Imperial, then in its last days).  The "Corinthian" tag was chosen because something special was needed for the Cordoba, the first "small" (in the context of the company's mid 1970s line-up) Chrysler ever offered in the US and the name was thought successfully to convey the association with something rare, of high quality, luxurious and, doubtlessly, "European".  Religiosity in the US somewhat more entrenched than elsewhere in the West, it’s likely many were well-acquainted with the books of the New Testament book but for those less pious, Corinthian was one of those words which somehow carried the desired connotations, even among those with no idea of the links.  Perhaps it was because it sounded European that some assumed the leather came from Spain, Italy or some such place where many words end in vowels.  Richard Nixon (1913-1994; POTUS 1969-1974) noted that linguistic phenomenon when he discussed the circumstances in which Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; POTUS 1953-1961) was compelled to dismiss his chief of staff (Sherman Adams (1899-1986)), who had accepted as a gift, inter alia, a vicuña coat.  Nixon observed that while there was no doubt most Americans had no idea whether vicuña was animal, vegetable or mineral, just the perceived mystique was enough to convince them it was something expensive and therefore corrupting.

1976 Chrysler Cordoba advertisement.  When released as a 1975 model, Chrysler heralded the Cordoba as "the new small Chrysler".  The word "small" is relative, the significance being the departure from the corporation's long-standing policy of the Chrysler brand not appearing on anything except "full-sized cars" but economic reality was biting the 1970s and the big cars were in their last days.  Then (as now), to most of the rest of the world, the Cordoba seemed pretty big and at the time the appeal in the US was real, even those not greatly concerned about the increase in the price of gas (petrol) fretting about the prospect of shortages. 

Whether the association with the Cordoba's “rich Corinthian leather” generated many sales in Chrysler's other divisions (Plymouth, Dodge & Imperial) isn’t known but the the phrase certainly gained a remarkable traction amid the cacophony of exaggeration and puffery which sustains modern capitalism.  The Cordoba was introduced in 1975 as a "down-sized" model for consumers suddenly interested in fuel economy in the post oil-crisis world and the manufacturers knew those who felt compelled to buy smaller cars didn’t necessarily want them to be any less luxurious and that became the theme for the promotional campaign, led this time on television and fronted by a celebrity spokesperson, the actor Ricardo Montalbán (1920-2009).  Born in Mexico of Spanish descent, Montalbán looked distinguished and spoke in cultivated English with just enough of a Spanish accent to make plausible the link of “Corinthian leather” with cattle on the plains of Spain.  Mr Montalbán only ever spoke of "Corinthian leather" or "rich Corinthian leather" but in the print advertising "Corinthian leather" & "fine Corinthian leather" (sometimes with a plural "leathers" also appeared.  Despite that, the industry myth remains his TV advertisements all included "fine Corinthian leather".  

In the advertising, Mr Montalbán spoke of “the thickly-cushioned luxury of seats, available even in rich Corinthian leather” and although sometimes he’d call it “soft” instead, all people seemed to remember was the leather was Corinthian.  So successful was the campaign that Chrysler decided to make the Corinthian label exclusive to the Cordoba and when Mr Montalbán was later assigned to advertise other Chryslers, in the same mellifluous tone, he commended only the “rich leather".  Later, when interviewed on late night television, cheerfully he admitted that the term meant nothing but that wasn't quite true: it meant whatever people who heard it wanted it to mean and that made it a perfect word for advertising.  The agency definitely were proud of their appropriation and when the 1977 Cordoba's steering wheel gained a leather covering, this was celebrated in the brochure with: "...hand-stitched Corinthian leather-covered rim-tilt steering wheel.  Marvelous."

1970 Ford Mustang Boss 429 (left) in Grabber Blue (J) with “comfortweave” interior in Corinthian White (EW) interior and 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 (right) in Wimbledon White (M) with black interior (all 1969 Boss 429s were trimmed in black (DAA)).

Before Chrysler decided “Corinthian leather” was a thing, Ford had conjured up “Corinthian white”, using the description for both a paint code and the vinyl used for interior trim.  Ford’s Corinthian White was very close to their long used “Wimbledon White”, the latter slightly less stark and closer to an “eggshell white” although far from a “cream”.  The difference is apparent only if two vehicles are parked side-by-side and restoration houses say Corinthian White can be re-created by paint suppliers which achieve the effect by adding a small amount of a certain shade of blue to the mix.

The Rolls-Royce Camargue

Although it’s never been confirmed by the factory, one source claims that a consequence of Chrysler's agency in 1974 coming up with “rich Corinthian leather” was that Rolls-Royce was forced to abandon the idea of calling their new model the Corinthian, adopting instead Camargue, (a region on the Mediterranean coast in the south of France).  For Rolls-Royce, Camargue was probably a better choice, tying in with their existing Corniche two-door saloon (which many might have called a coupé) and convertible (by the 1970s factory (mostly) had ceased to use the historic terms FHC (Fixed-Head coupé) and DHC (Drop-Head Coupé (DHC) although there was in 2007 a nostalgic, one-off revival for the Phantom Drophead Coupé).  The French word corniche has certain technical meanings in geology and architecture but Roll-Royce used it in the sense of “a coastal road, especially one cut into the face of a cliff”, specifically using the imagery of the Grande Corniche on the French Riviera, just north of the principality of Monaco.  The factory had first used the Corniche name in 1939 for a prototype light-weight, high-performance car which could match the pace of the big, supercharged, straight-eight Mercedes-Benz able to explore Germany’s newly built autobahns at sustained high speeds never before possible.  The car was damaged during testing in France and was abandoned there after the outbreak of hostilities, only to be destroyed in a bombing raid although whether the Luftwaffe (the German air force) or the RAF (the UK's Royal Air Force) was responsible isn’t known.

1968 Bentley T1 Coupé Speciale by Pininfarina (chassis CBH4033).  After this, it wasn't as if the factory wasn't aware of how Italians thought a Rolls-Royce or Bentley coupé should look and the Speciale should have been a warning heeded although, to be fair, it was more accomplished than the Camargue.  Modernists, the Italians replaced the Circassian walnut veneer with black leather.

So whether it was a minor ripple of chaos theory or the factory always intended to continue allusions to continental geography, in 1975 the Camargue was released with few technical innovations of interest other than the automatic, split-level climate control system which was an industry first and said alone to cost about as much to produce as a middle-class buyer might spend on a whole vehicle.  Other footnotes included it being the first Rolls-Royce designed and produced (except for the odd carry-over component) using metric measurements and the first with the famous grill inclined at (for mid-century Rolls-Royce), a rakish 7^o rather than the perfectly vertical aspect always before used.   Now noticeably lower and wider, the grill still was built using a variant of the technique the architects of Antiquity employed to create the optical illusion of the columns appearing, to the naked eye, to be of identical dimensions although it wasn't exactly the old math of entasis which made a viewer perceive a slightly curved Corinthian pillar as perfectly perpendicular.

The Pantheon Temple, Rome (left) and 1985 Rolls-Royce Camargue (right).

The Pantheon's Latin inscription M·AGRIPPA·L·F·COS·TERTIVM·FECIT really isn't all that poetic and reads like a note the draftsman might have put on the blueprint (had there then been blueprints): it translates as "Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, made [this building] when consul for the third time", crediting the Roman statesman & general, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa (circa 63 BC–12 BC) who in 27 BC commissioned the construction during his third consulship.  The Pantheon that stands today was rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian (Publius Aelius Hadrianus, 76–138; Roman emperor 117-138) circa 126 AD after the original structure suffered severe damage in a blaze. Hadrian choosing to retain Agrippa's inscription as a tribute (not all the emperors were narcissists).  Since AD 609, the Pantheon has been a Roman-Catholic church and is known as the Basilica Santa Maria ad Martyres (Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs).

Despite the popular perception, what Rolls-Royce describes as their "Pantheon grill" doesn't feature a classic entasis (slight swelling in the middle of a column to counteract the illusion of concavity) but the design does incorporate a similar visual effect: There is a (very) slight curvature which in the factory's vernacular is known as the "waftline".  Although there are, understandably, many references to the grill being the "Parthenon grill" (and there is a well-reviewed Greek restaurant in Murfreesboro, Tennessee called the Parthenon Grille), the factory has never used the term and say the designed was inspired by "Rome’s imposing Pantheon temple", a structure "...purposefully built with wider middle sections so the human eye perceives each long pillar to be completely straight."  What the architects of Antiquity did was use use an optical illusion as a "corrective" to achieve perfect visual symmetry and the Rolls-Royce engineers replicated the approach, the grill's columns wider towards the edges.  The waftline is used elsewhere, notably the gentle, upswept sweep along the sill-line which Rolls-Royce says "creates a powerful, poised stance and makes the car appear to be moving when stationary...", creating the impression of "calm perfect motion and accelerating quickly without fuss".  They clearly like the word "waft" because they coined the neologism "waftability" which is said to be "the essence of the brand".

1973 Rolls-Royce Corniche Saloon (left) and 1975 Rolls-Royce Camargue (right).

In 1975 however, it wasn't the almost imperceptible rake of the grill or the adoption of metric measurements which attracted most comment when the Camargue made its debut.  What was most discussed was (1) it being the world’s most expensive production car and (2) the appearance.  At that end of the market, the 30%-odd cost premium against the mechanically similar Corniche wasn’t going to produce the same effects in the elasticity of demand as would be noted lower in automotive pecking order, indeed, the Veblen effect can operate to make the more expensive product more desirable.  The consensus was the Corniche, although by then a decade-old shape, was better balanced and more elegant so for success to ensue, Rolls-Royce really were counting on Veblen to exert its pull.

Lancia Florida II (1957, left), Fiat 130 Coupé (1971, centre) & Rolls-Royce Camargue (1975, right).  The origin of the shape is most discernible in Pininfarina’s Lancia Florida, a different approach to the big coupé than would be taken in the 1950s by the Americans.  The later Fiat 130 coupé was one of those aesthetic triumphs which proved a commercial failure while the Camargue is thought a failure on all grounds although, for those who prize some degree of exclusivity, it remains a genuine rarity.  As it was, between 1975-1986, only 531 Camargues were sold (including a one-off Bentley version which was a "special order") while the Corniche lasted from 1971 until 1995, 6,823 leaving the factory including 561 Bentleys, the latter now much sought.  In a sense, the Camargue was ahead of its time because Rolls-Royce in the twenty-first century began offering some quite ugly cars and they have sold well, the Veblen effect working well.  

Unfortunately, the Camargue, while it did what it did no worse than a Corniche saloon, while doing it, it looked ungainly.  Styled by the revered Italian studio Pinninfarina, the look was derided as dated, derivative and clumsy and it’s this which has usually been thought to account for production barely topping 500 over the decade-odd it remained available.  In the years since, some tried to improve things and a number have been made into convertibles, an expensive exercise which actually made things worse, the roof-line one of the few pleasing aspects.  One buyer though was sufficiently impressed to commission a one-off Bentley version, one of the few instances of a model which genuinely can be claimed to be unique. The same designer at Carrozzeria Pininfarina who signed off on the Camargue was also responsible for the earlier Fiat 130 coupé, something in the same vein but on a smaller scale and the Fiat is a rectilinear masterpiece.

Platform by Mercedes-Benz, coachwork by Pininfarina.  1956 300 SC (left), 1963 230 SL (centre) & 1969 300 SEL 6.3 (right).

Whether the knife-edged severity of the 130 coupé could successfully have been up-scaled to the dimensions Rolls-Royce required is debatable but Pininfarina had lying around a styling exercise done years earlier, based on a Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL 6.3 and it was this which seems to have inspired the Camargue.  The Italian studio’s interest in Mercedes-Benz had in preceding decades produced some admired designs although the occasional plans for limited production runs were never realized.  In 1955, a coupé based on the 300b saloon had been shown, followed a year later by a 300 SC which most thought better executed, and certainly more contemporary, than the Germans' own effort.  The best though was probably the 1963 230 SL which lost both the distinctive pagoda roof and some of leanness for which the delicate lines are most remembered but it was thought a successful interpretation.  Mercedes-Benz should of course have produced a two-door 300 SE 6.3 because the W111/W112 two door body (1961-1971) was their finest achievement but the planet lost nothing by Pininfarina's take on the idea being rightly ignored.  In retrospect Rolls-Royce probably wished they too had "failed to proceed" and when the time came to do another big coupé, the job was done in-house, the Bentley Continental (1991-2003) an outstanding design and neither Rolls-Royce nor Bentley have since matched the timeless lines.

Mountweazel

Mountweazel (pronounced mount-wee-zuhl)

Factitious material deliberately included in a publication as a “copyright trap”, allowing identification of plagiarism and potential violations of copyright.

1975: A definition by Henry Alford (b 1962) which appeared in a 1975 edition of The New Yorker, referencing an entry in the fourth edition (1975) of the New Columbia Encyclopedia, involving the fictitious Lillian Virginia Mountweazel, said to have died in an explosion while on assignment for the just as fanciful “Combustibles” magazine.  Mountweazel was not a legitimate family name, the neologism coined by Karen Tweedy-Holmes (b 1942), then an editor for the encyclopedia, the purpose being a fictional biographical entry for the imaginary Lillian Virginia Mountweazel.  For all purposes (other than the doomed heroine), mountweasel is used without an initial capital.  Mountweazel is a noun; the noun plural is mountweazels.

Ms Tweedy-Holmes (there can have been few finer names for a lexicographer) described her tragic heroine as an American fountain designer turned photographer, born in 1942 in Bangs, Ohio and most noted for her commissioned series of images of the mailboxes of rural America, her death said to have come in 1973.  Ms Tweedy-Holmes authoritative (and wholly bogus) biographical entry for the late Ms Mountweazel read: “Mountweazel, Lillian Virginia, 1942–1973, American photographer, b. Bangs, Ohio.  Turning from fountain design to photography in 1963, Mountweazel produced her celebrated portraits of the South Sierra Miwok in 1964.  She was awarded government grants to make a series of photo-essays of unusual subject matter, including New York City buses, the cemeteries of Paris and rural American mailboxes.  The last group was exhibited extensively abroad and published as Flags Up! (1972).  Mountweazel died at 31 in an explosion while on assignment for Combustibles magazine.”  The coining was for the purpose of a “copyright trap”, in this context an apparently legitimate dictionary entry structurally and stylistically indistinguishable from thousands of others, the idea being that were another publication to include a “Lillian Virginia Mountweazel” entry with the same “facts”, that obviously would be a plagiarism and potentially a breach of copyright.

Combustibles magazine (special issue, 4 June, 1973).

Ms Mountweazel may never have lived but in death is memorialized in the Lillian Virginia Mountweazel Research Collection which includes an “extensive collection of Combustibles Magazine” covers, some editions including her assignments, notably “The Whimsical History of Fireworks” and “Disturbing Revelations” about Nazi rocket scientist Wernher von Braun (1912–1977) who in 1945 had been employed by the US government, suddenly rather more interested in the missiles the German could help them build rather than his wartime use of slave labor.  There’s also the revelation the Flags Up! project, although promoted as the USPS (US Postal Service) using “captivating imagery” to demonstrate how the new ZIP codes enhanced “the efficiency and modernization of the postal system”, actually was funded by the CCF (Congress for Cultural Freedom), a CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) “front organization” used during the Cold War to produce anti-Soviet propaganda.  The “messaging” in Flags Up! was to show the way freedom of thought and the expression of ideas was allowed freely to flow between Americans, however remote they might be.  Of course, also included is the “special issue” of Combustibles (4 June, 1973) in which was announced the death the previous day of Ms Mountweazel, killed in the crash of a Soviet Tupolev Tu-144 SST (supersonic transport) passenger airliner during the 1973 Paris Air Show at Le Bourget Airport.  In the accident, all six crew members died along with eight in the nearby village of Goussainville, Val-d'Oise where Ms Mountweasel had been researching “the negative health effects of sound pollution in communities near major international airports.”  After her death, photojournalism scholar Pierre Menard, acknowledged Ms Mountweazel as “one of the most important in the world of pyromaniac publishing.”  Pierre Menard was also factitious, the name borrowed from Pierre Menard, autor del Quijote (Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote (1939)), a short story by the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986).

Official Journal of the Institute of Explosives Engineers, March 2026 edition.  It would seem women involved in “blowing-up stuff” prefer to wear sensible shoes which seems wise.

While there was no “Combustibles” magazine (which for the entrepreneurial seems a gap in the market), for students of such things or enthusiasts of the art & science of “blowing-up stuff”, the IEE (Institute of Explosives Engineers (Voice of the Explosive Industries)) publishes the quarterly Official Journal of the Institute of Explosives Engineers, currently distributed to a membership of some 2,000 “highly qualified engineers and specialists” involved in blowing-up stuff.  Additionally, copies are made available to selected academics, professional institutions and those in the business (of blowing-up stuff).  As well as academic papers, features and articles, the journal functions as a trade publication with information and reviews of new products and services.  The editors welcome submissions relevant to blowing-up stuff and, if appropriate, prior to publication, will submit texts for professional peer review.  The next International Explosives Conference will be held between 16-18 June, 2026 at the Parkgate Hotel in Cardiff, Wales and the institute recommends the early booking of hotel rooms because on the evening of the 16^th, Take That (an English pop group formed in Manchester in 1990) will be performing their Circus Live show at the city’s Principality Stadium.

A synonym of mountweazel is the German Nihilartikel, said to have appeared in 2003 as a hoax in the German-language Wikipedia in 2003 and later picked up by the English version from which it spread through blogs, print publications and such, these serving as “references” appearing to legitimate subsequent use.  The construct of Nihilartikel (being a noun, if used in the original German, with an initial upper case) was the Latin nihil (nothing), from nihilum (from ne- (not) +‎ hīlum (the least bit)) + the German Artikel (article) (from the Middle High German artikel, from the Latin articulus.  This is defined (in the jargon of Wikipedia) as a type of citogenesis (a circular form of citation where various sources report each other, creating a false impression of reliability).  The construct being cit(e) +‎ -o- +‎ -genesis, citogenesis was in 2011 coined by US engineer Randall Munroe (b 1984), presumably on the model of the homophone cytogenesis (the formation, development and variation of cells), the construct being cyto- + genesis.  Cyto- (“cell” as used in biology) was a learned borrowing from the Ancient Greek κύτος (kútos) (container, receptacle) and genesis (origin, start; point (in time) at which something comes into being). came via Latin from the Ancient Greek γένεσις (génesis).  Cite (in this context “to quote; to repeat, to make mention of; to list”) was from the Old French citer, from the Latin citare (to cause to move, excite, summon) and frequentative of ciēre (to rouse, excite, call).  So, just as cytogenesis describes cells being formed and variations emerging from components, in citogenesis what is happening to the assembly of “apparent (but erroneous) facts” with “authenticity verified” on the basis of other “apparent (but erroneous) facts that gained their “apparent veracity” merely from the frequency of citation.

The Pentagon Papers.  In 1971, the USSC (US Supreme Court) ruled 6-3 against granting the Nixon (Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974)) administration an injunction preventing further publication of excerpts by the New York Times & The Washington Post, holding the government’s attempt to invoke “prior restraint” violated the First Amendment (freedom of the press) of the constitution and the claim of a threat to national security was not in this case sufficiently justified to allow suppression of the press.  It’s interesting to speculate how today’s USSC would rule on the same facts.

For other purposes, there are variants of the “copyright trap”.  Organizations wishing to detect the source of “leaks” (documents being photocopied and given to unauthorized recipients) would sometimes make visually almost imperceptible changes (an additional space, a character in a slightly different font etc) in certain copies, meaning an analysis of a “leaked copy” could isolate the source.  That obviously depended on the existence of relatively few original copies but that is the nature of leaked material.  The digitization of documents of course made copying and leaking not only quicker and easier but also made possible grabbing data on a huge scale.  While in 1969 Dr Daniel Ellsberg (1931–2023) had to spend several evenings alone with one of Rand Corporation’s photocopiers to duplicate the 7000-odd pages that became “the Pentagon Papers”, by the time Edward Snowden (b 1983) and Chelsea (then Bradley) Manning (b 1987) were stealing US government data by the gigabyte, all they needed was a USB stick onto which stuff silently was copied as they went about their paid work.  All digital copies of a document are of course functionally identical and even metadata which can reveal something about the copying (such as a date stamp) can be edited so what sometimes was done was the insertion of something hidden which could be detected only at the software level and not visually.  The best known was the “Alt + 255 trick”, a keyboard combination which created the NBSP (non-breaking space) Unicode character U+00A0.  Visually indistinguishable from the standard gap (U+0020) created by a tap of the space bar, the location could be detected using certain text editors so, correctly implemented, it would be a useful device for tracing sources of leaks.  However, “software tricks” can be detected by other software which is why crooked Hillary Clinton’s (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) legal team (a well-resourced and busy crew) insisted on printing out thousands of E-mails because of fears the investigators exploring the (still not adequately explained) “servergate” scandal might detect in the raw files something crooked Hillary had deleted.

The companion (in form though not intent) of the mountweazel is the “ghost word”.  A ghost word is a word that enters a dictionary, reference book or some other reputable source, despite being “wrong”.  The causative events have been varied, including misunderstood abbreviations, typographical errors, printer's mistakes, errors in transcription or translation, scribal copying errors, damaged manuscripts, corruptions in transmission and mishearings of audio recordings.  While advances in technology have made it possible more efficiently to identify ghost words, the increasing use of OCR (optical character recognition) on texts of sometimes dubious legibility may yet create a few and given the propensity of AI (artificial intelligence) bots to “make-up stuff”, there’s likely to be a new generation yet to be discovered.  In linguistics, the professionals distinguish between “ghost words” and “phantom words” and the distinction matters in their rarefied world but to most of us the latter probably would be thought mere “spelling errors”.

Few have made a great as contribution to the study of the English language as Walter William Skeet, the ghost word but one of his minor legacies.

All that matters for purposes of definition is that the word has no actual history of use in the language.  One celebrated example was “dord” which appeared in the 1934 edition of Webster's New International Dictionary, defined as “density”.  What had happened was the chemistry section’s editor had written a note saying: “D or d, cont/ density” (meaning “uppercase D or lowercase d is the abbreviation for density”) but a typesetter misread the spaces, blending the characters to create a “new word”.  Until 1939 “dord” sat on its page in Webster’s, apparently without causing trouble but it was noticed during an internal review and a “plate change/imperative/urgent” instruction was sent to the printer; at that point the linguistic exorcism was effected but, because lead-times and product supply-lines were then longer, not until 1947 were Webster’s confident they successfully had “de-dorded” things.  It could of course have been different.  Had chemists ((The origin, start; point (in time) at which something comes into being). or anyone else) decided dord was a “perfectly cromulent word” and use had achieved critical mass, it would have become a “real word”.  Quite when the term “ghost word” first was used in this sense is uncertain but lexicographers agree it was popularized by English mathematician, philologist & Anglican deacon Walter William Skeat (1835–1912), notable for his seminal work in editing Medieval texts.

The neologism “cromulent” appeared in Lisa the Iconoclast (episode 16, season 7 of the US animated TV series The Simpsons (1989-) which aired on Fox on 18 February, 1996.  Cromulent (acceptable; valid; correct) was deliberately not “a real word”, the gag being it was included in the script to be used by one character to assure another that “embiggen” (to make larger) was “a real word”.  So it was a funny line but the irony was embiggen had a (limited) history of use dating from 1884.  In the years since, it has been included in mainstream dictionaries and has found a niche in the mysterious world of string theory, a collection of explanations of the structure of the universe; being under the rubric of quantum gravity, string theory is understood only by a handful of specialists, not all of whom agree with each other.  Probably few would deny embiggen deserves to be in the jargon of string theory but whether the discipline is cromulent science continues to divide opinion.

Warren Harding (1865–1923; POTUS 1921-1923), New Year's Day, 1920.  A confessed Freemason, Harding presided over a scandal-plagued administration and his early death might have been one of those “good career moves”.  Theodore Roosevelt’s (TR, 1858–1919; POTUS 1901-1909) daughter Alice Longworth (1884–1980) “knew everybody” in twentieth century US politics and in summing up Harding concluded: “Harding wasn’t a bad man, he was just a slob.”

There have over the years been many “ghost words” (the authoritative Wiktionary listing 33 instances in English of examples meeting their strict criterion).  It’s not enough that a word is “wrong”; whether fictitious, malicious, erroneous or whatever, to become a “ghost word” it must appear in some work of reference and be presented as “genuine”, enduring in that form long enough to take on some sort of life.  Humorists and experimentalists have of course coined or repurposed words which have entered mainstream use but these are not ghost words because their lineage was documented.  There are also “pseudo ghost words” (those treated as such but with a verified history authenticating the alleged error), a celebrated example being Warren Harding’s use during his successful 1920 presidential campaign of “normalcy” instead of “normality”, the section of his speech containing the offending word almost aggressively alliterative:

“America’s present need is not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.”

Unrelated: The mountain weasel (Mustela altaica), an inhabitant of high-altitude regions in parts of Asia including Kazakhstan, Tibet, India, Mongolia, north-eastern China and southern Siberia.

In saying "normalcy", he may have misspoken or perhaps Harding liked the word; questioned afterwards he said he found it in a dictionary which probably was true although whether his discovery came before or after the speech wasn't explored.  Although Harding’s choice was at the time much-mocked, normalcy certainly had existed since at least 1857, originally as a technical term from geometry meaning the “mathematical condition of being at right angles, state or fact of being normal in geometry” but subsequently had on several occasions appeared in print as a synonym of normality.  Still, it was hardly in general use though Harding gave it a boost and it’s not since gone extinct, now with little complaint except from the most linguistically fastidious who insist the use in geometry remains the only meaning and all subsequent applications are mistakes.  In these circumstances, a misspeak “does not a ghost word always make” and in 1920 many assumed Mr Harding had “misspoken”.  For someone to “misspeak” was then understood to mean “saying something incorrectly, unclearly or inaccurately (by mistake).  The word “Misspeak” thus distinguished unintentional errors, mispronunciations or “slips of the tongue” from deliberate lies but it came to suffer a darkly amusing late career change.  Historically, it meant (1) to fail to pronounce, utter, or speak correctly or (2) to speak insultingly, disrespectfully or inappropriately (a use long obsolete) but in recent decades it has evolved as a “weasel word” (a word used to hedge a statement, making it vague; equivocal; ambiguous; misleading) used by politicians and others tacitly to admit having lied without having to say: “I lied”.  So it’s beyond a euphemism (which has a hint of polite respectability) and something most associated with crooked Hillary Clinton, notorious for her “strained” relationship with truthfulness although to be fair to crooked Hillary (difficult, but it can be done), her husband (Bill Clinton (b 1946; POTUS 1993-2001)) did not in such matters set a stellar example.

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

A malapropism is a literary device and not a ghost word.  Mrs Malaprop was a character in Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s (1751-1816) play The Rivals (1775); she had the habit of substituting inappropriate but like-sounding words that would take on a ludicrous meaning in the sentence in which they appeared (her intended compliment “nice arrangement of epithets” came from her lips as “nice derangement of epitaphs”).  That was very different from a “mere typo”, a breed which tends either to be annoying or amusing but which in certain documents could be consequential (consider “prescribe” vs “proscribe”) but typos can also coin words.  “Hodling” was intended to be in the text string “I am holding”, typed by a cryptocurrency investor who wished to assure others in the chatgroup he was “holding” his Bitcoin position and not selling despite the sudden drop in the price.  Unfortunately, he’d reputedly enjoyed half a bottle of whisky (or whiskey) so finger control on the keyboard was diminished, thus the word-making “I am hodling.”  That proved a linguistic gift because “hodl” (hold) entered the jargon of the cryptocoin jockeys and hodlers (those who do not react to every price downturn by selling) are thought a fearless elite. 

Applied spoonerism: First assembled in 1977, the Cunning Stunts was a London-based, feminist performance collective.  Suffering the internal conflicts perhaps endemic to collectives, the Cunning Stunts dissolved in 1982, having seemingly worked their concept dry.  In the UK, much alternative theatre didn’t survive the 1980s, the administration of Margaret Thatcher (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) dismantling many of the often left-wing local authorities which had provided a substantial proportion of the funding.

Nor is a spoonerism likely to become a ghost phrase.  A spoonerism is a play on words in a phrase in which the initial (typically a consonant) sounds of two or more of the words are transposed.  It was named after Oxford don the Reverend W. A. Spooner (1844–1930), who was alleged to have made many such slip-ups (“Our dear old queen” becoming “Our queer old dean”) although among scholars it’s suspected that while doubtless he made a few, there was likely a healthy industry among his students (and perhaps even his fellow dons) is concocting more to be attributed.  Another variant was the mondegreen.  Mondegreen was coined by US editor & journalist Sylvia Wright (1917-1981) who, in a piece published in 1954 in Harper's Magazine, recalled a childhood memory of mishearing her mother read a line in the Scottish ballad The Bonnie Earl o' Moray (which appeared in Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (1765) by the English clergyman bishop and antiquarian Thomas Percy (1729-1811)): “They have slain the Earl o' Moray, / And laid him on the green”, the second line misheard as, “And Lady Mondegreen”.  Now an acknowledged descriptor, “mondegreen” didn’t appear in mainstream dictionaries until the twenty-first century and that was a product of lists of “obscure or unusual” words beginning to proliferate on the internet as bandwidth increased and cost fell.  Not all novelties pleased the editors but mondegreen was nerdy enough to make the lexicographical cut.  Structurally, there’s no reason why a misspeak, malaproprism, spoonerism or mondegreen can’t become a ghost word; it’s all in the history.

Peter Falk as Lieutenant Columbo in his battered 1959 Peugeot 403 Cabriolet.

Both embiggen and cromulent are not ghost words because they were positioned as “joke words” rather than being errors and nor are they mountweazels because they were inserted into the script as something other than copyright traps.  Essentially, a mountweazel deliberately is fake while a ghost word is in some sense “wrong”, the distinction summed up as: (1) a ghost word is an error mistaken for truth while (2) a mountweazel is a fabrication presented as truth for strategic reasons.  There are however limitations to the mountweazel’s utility as a copyright trap, the classic example the legal squabble which came to be dubbed “the Columbo Trap”.  Columbo was a TV detective drama which at various times between 1968-2003 was shown on the NBC & ABC networks; it started Peter Falk (1927–2011) as Lieutenant Columbo, remembered for (1) always solving the murder(s), (2) his catch phrase “just one more thing” and (3) driving a dilapidated 1959 Peugeot 403 Cabriolet (one of 504 built that year out of the 2,030 produced during a six-year run (1956-1961)).

The Trivia Encyclopedia (1974): Mostly accurate.

The first edition of the best-selling book The Trivia Encyclopedia appeared in 1974; written by Fred L. Worth, it was for years a fixture on bookshop “Christmas gift” lists.  In 1984, claiming damages of US$300 million, Mr Worth filed suit against the distributors of the board game Trivial Pursuit, claiming they had stolen their game’s Q&A (questions & answers) from his books.  There were many instances of copying he cited but his key piece of evidence was a mountweazel he'd included: the “trivial fact” the first name of the TV detective Lieutenant Columbo was: “Philip”.  This was a product of Mr Worth’s imagination but in the board game, it appeared as an answer to that question.  His legal point was that while the board game’s creators could have obtained his other examples from many other sources (as indeed he had), the notion of “Philip Columbo” appeared first in his book and that it was “not a fact” was irrelevant because the basis of his suit was the unauthorized and unattributed copying.

Not to be confused: Mr Spock (left) & Dr Spock (right).

The Trivia Encyclopedia mostly was accurate although there appeared on the cover an “accidental” mountweasel.  The “Dr Spock” mentioned in the cover art was the character in the TV Series Star Trek (1966-1969) who was always referred to as “Mr Spock” (reflecting the practice in the USN (US Navy), the rank-structure and conventions of which were adopted for the series).  Within The Trivia Encyclopedia, things are OK, the character always referred to as “Mr Spock” and the “trivial facts” correct:  (1) Mr Spock was Science Officer on the Starship Enterprise; (2) he was played by Leonard Nimoy (1931-2015); (3) his human mother was Amanda (played by Jane Wyatt (1910-2006); (4) his Vulcan father was Sarek (played by Mark Lenard (1924-1996).  In publishing, by convention, authors tend not to have the final say on a book’s title or cover art so it was likely an editor at Brooke House who may inadvertently have put the mountweazel on the cover.  Presumably the confusion arose because (1) Mr Spock was rather nerdy in the stereotypical way of a physics Ph.D, and (2) while the series was being televised, the book The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care by US paediatrician Dr Benjamin Spock (1903–1998) had become a best-seller, making its author a household name.  Spock being an unusual name, “Dr” became so associated with “Spock”, many not familiar with the intricate details of the TV series may have conflated the two.

On just about any topic, there's probably a trivia list somewhere on-line.

Defending the suit, the distributers of Trivial Pursuit made no attempt to deny sourcing much material from Mr Worth's book, arguing “facts” are not able to receive the protection of copyright.  To emphasize the point, the company provided a long list of published texts from which information had been copied and argued it would be absurd to suggest they could be sued for providing the answer “Queen Victoria reigned between 1837-1901” because that fact appears in thousands of books.  They acknowledged an action might be possible (depending on many things) had they merely published a “book of trivial facts” (a la Mr Worth’s) but a multi-player board game in which questions had to be answered was “a substantially different product” within the meaning of copyright law.  The judge agreed, a finding upheld on appeal and the USSC declined to re-hear the case, thus reinforcing general principle “a fact cannot be copyrighted”.  Mr Worth’s response was that by definition “Philip Columbo” was thus a piece of fiction deserving copyright; the judges acknowledged the logic but found it too much of a stretch to be accommodated within copyright law and did not concur.  Amusingly however, others also copied Mr Worth’s mountweazel with references to “Lieutenant Philip Columbo” over the years appearing in print and on-line, Peugeot in the 1980s even running advertising campaign in which “Lt. Philip Columbo” was mentioned as the “most famous driver” of a Peugeot convertible.  That was a bit of a shift from the company’s original views on the 403 Cabriolet’s appearance in the TV series, the executives not best pleased at its dilapidated state.  Internet sleuths later published close-up screen shots of his police badge which revealed his name was “Frank Columbo”.