Hang

Hang (pronounced hang)

(1) To fasten or attach a thing so that it is supported only from above or at a point near its own top; to attach or suspend so as to allow free movement.

(2) To place in position or fasten so as to allow easy or ready movement.

(3) To put to death by suspending by the neck from a gallows, gibbet, yardarm, or the like; to suspend (oneself) by the neck until dead.

(4) To fasten to a cross; crucify.

(5) To furnish or decorate with something suspended.

(6) In fine art, to exhibit a painting or group of paintings.

(7) To attach or annex as an addition.

(8) In building, to attach (a door or the like) to its frame by means of hinges.

(9) To make an idea, form etc dependent on a situation, structure, concept, or the like, usually derived from another source.

(10) As hung jury, hung parliament etc, where deliberative body is unable to achieve a majority verdict in a vote.

(11) In informal use, to cause a nickname, epithet etc to become associated with a person

(12) In nautical use, to steady (a boat) in one place against a wind or current by thrusting a pole or the like into the bottom under the boat and allowing the wind or current to push the boat side-on against the pole.

(13) To incline downward, jut out, or lean over or forward.

(14) To linger, remain, or persist; to float or hover in the air.

(15) In informal use (to get the hang of), the precise manner of doing, using, etc, something; knack.

(16) In computing, as “to hang”, usually a synonym for “freeze”.  Nerds insist a hang refers only to a loss of control by manual input devices (mouse; keyboard etc) while the machine remains responsive to remote control whereas a freeze is a total lock-up.

(18) In chess (transitive) to cause a piece to become vulnerable to capture and (intransitive) to be vulnerable to capture.

(19) As “hang up”, to end a phone call, a use which has continued even though many phone handsets no longer physically “hang up”.

Pre 900:  A fusion of three verbs: (1) the Middle English and Old English hōn (to hang; be hanging) (transitive), cognate with the Gothic hāhan (originally haghan); (2) the Middle English hang(i)en & Old English hangian (to hang) (intransitive), cognate with the German hangen; and (3) the Middle English henge from the Old Norse hanga & hengja (suspend) (transitive), cognate with the German hängen & hangēn (to hang).

Ultimate source of all forms was the Proto-Germanic hanhaną (related to the Dutch hangen, the Low German hangen & hängen, the German hängen, the Norwegian Bokmål henge & Norwegian Nynorsk henga), root being the primitive Indo-European ḱenk- (to waver, be in suspense).  Etymologists compare the evolution with the Gothic hāhan, the Hittite gang- (to hang), the Sanskrit शङ्कते (śáṅkate) (is in doubt; hesitates), the Albanian çengë (a hook) and the Latin cunctari (to delay).  From the Latin cunctari, Modern English retains the very useful cunctator (a procrastinator; one who delays).

Past tense: hung and hanged

Hang has two forms for past tense and past participle, “hanged” and “hung”.  The older form hanged is now used exclusively in the sense of putting to death on the gallows by means of a lawful execution, sanctioned by the state.  Even in places where capital punishment is no longer used, it remains the correct word to use in its historical context.

There are two forms because the word “hang” came from two different verbs in Old English (with a relationship to one from Old Norse).  One of these Old English verbs was considered a regular verb and this gave rise to “hanged”; the other was irregular, and ended up as “hung”.  Hanged and hung were used interchangeably for hundreds of years but over time, hung became the more common.  Hanged retained its position when used to refer to death by hanging because it became fossilized in both statute and common law; it thus escaped the development of Modern English which tended increasingly to simplified forms.  Even the familiar phrase hung, drawn and quartered originally used “hanged”, a change reflecting popular use.  The only novel variation to emerge in recent years has been to use hanged to describe executions ordered by a state and hung when referring to suicides by hanging although this remains still a trend rather than an accepted convention of use.

Fowler’s Modern English Usage holds it isn’t necessarily erroneous to use hung in the case of executions, just less customary in Standard English but, like most guides, acknowledge the distinction still exists while noting the use of hung is both widespread and tolerated.  The consensus seems to be it’s best to follow the old practice but not get too hung up about it.

Hung and not hung

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper (1609-1672).

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Although certain about the afterlife, Cromwell was a practical politician with few illusions about life on earth.  Once, when being driven in a coach through cheering crowds, his companion remarked that his popularity with the people must be pleasing.  The Lord Protector replied he had no doubt they’d be cheering just as loud were he being taken to the gallows to be hanged.

Exhibition of images of Lindsay Lohan by Richard Phillips (b 1962), hung in the Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street, New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.  Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition is an example of the way Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush, large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of their own mediated existence.

Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903)  by Théobald Chartran.

Nobel Peace Prize laureate Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US President 1901-1909), famous also for waging war and shooting wildlife, after being impressed by Théobald Chartran’s (1849–1907) portrait of his wife, invited the French artist to paint him too.  He was so displeased with the result, which he thought made him look effete, that he refused to hang the work.  Later, he would have it destroyed.

Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) by John Singer Sargent.

Roosevelt turned instead to expatriate American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925).  The relationship didn’t start well as the two couldn’t agree on a setting and during one heated argument, the president suddenly, hand on hip, took on a defiant air while making a point and Sargent had his pose, imploring his subject not to move.  This one delighted Roosevelt and was hung in the White House.

Portrait of Winston Churchill (1954) by Graham Sutherland.

Another subject turned disappointed critic was Sir Winston Churchill (1874–1965; UK Prime Minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  In 1954, a committee funded by the donation of a thousand guineas from members of both houses of parliament, commissioned English artist Graham Sutherland (1903–1980) to paint a portrait of the prime minister to mark his eightieth birthday.  The two apparently got on well during the sittings, Churchill himself a prolific, if undistinguished, amateur painter and it’s said he enjoyed their discussions.  He was unimpressed though with the result, telling Sutherland that while he acknowledged his technical prowess, he found the work “not suitable”.  To his doctor he was less restrained, calling it "filthy" and "malignant".

Portrait of Laurence Olivier in the role of Richard III (1955) by Salvador Dalí.

It had been intended the painting would be hung in the House of Commons but Churchill had no intention of letting it be seen by anyone.  An unveiling ceremony had been arranged and Churchill demanded it not include the painting, relenting only when a compromise was arranged whereby both subject and artwork would appear together but rather than being hung in the Commons, it would instead be gifted to him to hang where he pleased.  Both sides appeased if not pleased, the ceremony proceeded, Churchill making a brief speech of thanks during which he described his gift as “…a remarkable example of modern art..”, praise not even faint.  It was never hung, consigned unwrapped to the basement of the prime minister’s country house where it remained for about a year until Lady Churchill, sharing her husband’s view of the thing, had her staff take it outside where it was burned, an act of practical criticism Sutherland condemned as “vandalism”.  Not anxious to repeat the experience of his brush with modernism, Churchill declined the request of a sitting from Salvador Dalí (1904–1989), the result of which might have been interesting.

Photographs of Winston Churchill (1941) by Yousuf Karsh.

Roosevelt’s pose is one favored by politicians but the expression adopted matters too.  The famous photograph taken in Ottawa in December 1941 by Armenian-Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was actually one of several but those where Churchill shows a more cheerful countenance are not remembered.  They didn’t so well suit the times.

The scowl, although immediately regarded as emblematic of British defiance of the Nazis, had a more prosaic origin, the photographer recalling his subject had appeared benign until it was insisted the ever-present Havana cigar be discarded lest it spoil the photograph.  That changed the mood but, the moment captured, he relented and permitted a couple more, including the now obscure ones with a smile.

Cunctation

Cunctation (pronounced kuhngk-tey-shuhn)

Lateness; delay; hesitation (archaic).

1575–1585: From the Latin cunctātiōn- (stem of cunctātiō) (delay; tarrying; a hesitation), from cūnctor (linger, hesitate), the construct being cunctāt(us) (past participle of cunctārī (to delay) + -iōn (the noun suffix).  The Latin cunctari (to be slow, hesitate, delay action), is from the primitive Indo-European konk- (to hang), the source also of the Hittite kank- (to hang, weigh), the Sanskrit sankate (is afraid, fears), the Gothic hahan (to leave in uncertainty) The Old English hon (to hang) and the Old Norse hengja (to hang, suspend).  The derived forms, some more useful than others, are include cunctatious, cunctatory, cunctative & cunctator.

The socialist Fabian Society, founded in Britain in 1884 is a classic example of political cunctation (more usually (for a variety of reasons) called gradualism), the name borrowed from Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus (Circa 280-203 BC; nicknamed Cunctator (the Delayer)), a cautious Roman tactician who opposed Hannibal in the Second Punic War (201-218 BC).  Facing Hannibal's vastly superior Carthaginian forces, Fabius declined to engage in traditional set-piece, climactic battles and instead adopted a tactic of harassment and attrition, using small, precise strikes on vulnerable enemy outposts and supply lines, gradually wearing down his opponent.  It was a different approach from that typically taken by the Roman military and "Fabius Cunctator" was originally a term of derision but as it became clear it was the only method likely in the circumstances to be successful, it came to be an expression of admiration.  Essentially, although using tactics which had been part of war as long as conflict has existed, it was probably the first time that what is now referred to as guerrilla (and more recently as asymmetric) warfare became a codified part of the military manual.   The Fabians used the name to draw a distinction between their moderate approach and those of violent and revolutionary anarchists and communists.  Unfortunately for historians, the Fabians choose not to call themselves the Cunctative Society, a missed opportunity for the youth wing which instead had to be content with the nickname “young fabs”.  It’s an urban (or perhaps a rural) myth the Country Party in Australia changed its name to National Party because of such concerns.   

The Fabian Society

For the Fabian's coat of arms, a wolf in sheep's clothing was thought too threatening an image for the English, the lethargic but long-lived tortoise a more comforting symbol.

The Fabian Society was formed in 1884 (a year after the death of Karl Marx) as a British socialist organization advocating that the principles of democratic socialism should be achieved through gradual reform rather than revolution.  At times intellectually fashionable, it attracted (sometimes briefly) noted figures from science, literature and letters including George Bernard Shaw, HG Wells, Sydney Olivier, Ramsay MacDonald, Bertrand Russell and Emmeline Pankhurst, its influence on social-democratic politics spread from the British Labour Party around the world although perhaps the most far-reaching institution it spawned was the London School of Economics, founded in 1895.  Following the tactics of Fabius Maximus the Cunctator, the Fabians chose a gradual approach to attempt to realize their political strategy rather than the sudden blast of revolution favored by many other leftist groups.  In the spirit of this philosophy, the society adopted as its logo a tortoise although it did briefly flaunt a wolf in sheep’s clothing for its coat of arms, soon dropped for fear it might frighten the horses.  Ironically, Clement Attlee (later Lord Attlee, 1883–1967; UK prime minister 1945-1951), a Fabian prime-minister once dismissed by his predecessor (and successor) (Winston Churchill, 1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) as a "sheep in sheep's clothing", turned out to be something of a political wolf, in the difficult post-war years transforming the UK's economy and many aspects of its social arrangements.         

As with many movements in the early days of mass-democracy, the Fabian Society’s platforms and political positions were a mixture of reformist social justice, enlightened progressivism and what seem now at least quasi-fascist views on eugenics and race.  The Fabians sought the abolition of the hereditary aristocracy, a minimum wage, a national health service and, at least among some members, women's emancipation and enfranchisement.  The high-point of their influence in their native land came in the years of the post-war consensus, the so-called 1945 settlement which followed the British Labour Party's landslide victory in the general election of that year.  It was an era which extended from the end of the war until the changes wrought by the Thatcher government during the 1980s and was marked by a high degree of acceptance by both sides of politics of the model of a planned economy with much public ownership.  Interestingly, it was in New Zealand during these years that the Fabian model was implemented to the fullest extent seen in the English-speaking world and, tellingly, there it was unwound by the reformist Labour governments of the 1980s even more brutally than in the UK.  The New Zealand model is of historic interest because, unusually, it combined restricted economic freedom with a classic liberal social model including freedom of speech and political participation, an inversion of that pursued by authoritarian regimes such as the Chinese Communist Party (CCP).

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

Whatever may have been the political and economic consequences in the UK, it was perhaps during the post colonial years of the late twentieth century that the Fabian’s influence was at its greatest.  Many of the leading political figures in newly independent nations were exposed to Fabian thought, most famously Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru (1889–1964; Indian prime-minister 1950-1964) who designed the structure of India’s economic policy along the lines of Fabian socialism; the so-called "License Raj".  To an extent greater than was ever attempted in the UK, Nehru's Fabian ideas committed India to an economy in which the state either owned, operated or controlled the means of production and distribution, particularly industrial sectors such as steel, telecommunications, transportation, electricity generation, mining and real estate development.  Private activity, much of which was actively discouraged, was regulated by a vast and painfully slow bureaucracy through permits and licenses.  Other nations in Asia, Africa and the Middle East also followed the model to some degree though Singapore, under a competent and pragmatic leadership, soon identified the structural difficulties created and changed course, a realization which took a decade longer fully to register in the UK.

Even if the implications of its early programme were never realized, the Fabian Society remained an influence in left-wing English politics and was involved in the modernization of the Labour Party in the 1990s, although, given what New Labour became, there will be some who consider that an admission of guilt rather than a proud boast.  Now operating essentially as left-wing think-tanks rather than activist collectives, Fabian societies still exist in a number of countries under a variety of names.

The Young Fabs

After being in abeyance because of COVID-19, the ending of social restrictions in England meant the much-missed and long-awaited Young Fabians Boat Party was able again to cast-off in 2021.  Sales of the early-bird (Stg£30) tickets sold-out quickly and the standard (Stg£35) and non-member (Stg£40) tickets were soon all taken.

Prosecco spumante ("pro-spew" to admirers & detractors alike).  The young fabs know how to have a good time.

Profits from the night of drink and dance down the Thames went towards supporting the Young Fabians’ "brilliant activism and policy work", the ticket price including a complimentary glass of Prosecco.  On board, a fully-stocked bar was open all evening (cash sales only) and while the dress code was (of course) relaxed, young fabs were encouraged to dress up "as much as made them feel comfortable" which for a young fab can be a difficult compromise to achieve: too scruffy and one's chances of hooking up with another young fab might be diminished (although Prosecco is said to lower both standards & inhibitions) while too smart might be considered a micro-aggression against the poor or those from ethnic minorities whose sartorial sense differs from Western, middle-class norms.  It's not always easy to be a young fab.  Cast-off was at 19:10 from Westminster Pier (all being advised it was essential to arrive by 18.45 to ensure there was time to board because there were no refunds for cunctators, one practice from capitalism which seems to have been absorbed).  The cruise ended when the boat docked at Westminster Pier at 23.30 but the partying was said to continue in the city at "a myriad of establishments".

Young Fab Ms Victoria Parrett, Events Officer & Treasurer of the Young Fabians who may be contacted on Twitter @VictoriaParrett or at victoria.parrett@youngfabians.org.uk.

Penthouse

Penthouse (pronounced pent-hous)

(1) An apartment or dwelling on the roof of a building, usually set back from the outer walls.

(2) Any specially designed apartment on an upper floor, especially the top floor, of a building.

(3) A structure on a roof for housing elevator machinery, a water tank etc.

(4) Any roof-like shelter or overhanging part.

(5) In Real Tennis, a corridor having a slanted roof and projecting from three walls of the court.

(6) As mechanical penthouse, a floor, usually directly under a flat-roof, used to house mechanical plant & equipment.

(7) A special-interest magazine, aimed at a mostly male audience and published in several editions by a variety of owners since 1965.

1520–1530: Despite the appearance penthouse is not a portmanteau (pent + house) word.  Penthouse is an alteration (by folk etymology) of the Middle English pentis, pentiz & pendize (and other spellings), from the Old French apentiz & apentis (appendage, attached building), the construct being apent (past participle of apendre (to hang against)) + -iz (the French -is ) from the unattested Vulgar Latin –ātīcium (noun use of neuter of the unattested –ātīcius, the construct being the Latin -āt(us) (past participle suffix) + -īcius (the adjectival suffix)).  Old French picked up apentis from the Medieval Latin appendicium (from the Classical Latin appendo (to hang) & appendere (to hang from).  A less common alternative variant to describe a shed with a sloping roof projecting from a wall or the side of a building was pentice.  Penthouse is a noun; the noun plural is penthouses.

1965 Iso Grifo Bizzarini A3/C, Le Mans, 1965.

One of the most admired of the trans-Atlantic hybrids of the post-war years (1945-1973) which combined elegant coachwork, (hopefully) high standards of craftsmanship and the effortless, low-cost power of large-capacity American V8 engines, the Iso Grifo was produced between 1965-1974 by the Italian manufacturer Iso Autoveicoli.  Styled by Bertone’s Giorgetto Giugiaro (b 1938) with engineering handled by the gifted Giotto Bizzarrini (1926-2023), the Grifo initially used a 327 cubic inch (5.3 litre) version of the small-block Chevrolet V8, coupled with the equally ubiquitous Borg-Warner four & five speed manual gearbox or robust General Motors (GM) automatics.  Later, after some had been built with the big-block Chevrolet V8, GM began to insist on being paid up-front for hardware so Iso negotiated with the more accommodating Ford Motor Company and switched to 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) versions of their 335 (Cleveland) engine.

1955 Iso Isetta.

Iso was already familiar with the mechanical configuration, production of their Rivolta coupe, equipped also with the Chevrolet 327, having begun in 1962.  The Rivolta, let alone the Grifo was quite a change of direction for Iso which until then had produced a variety of appliances, scooters & moto-cycles, it’s most famous product the Isetta, one of the generation of “bubble cars” which played such a part in putting Europeans back on (three or four) wheels during the re-construction of the post-war years.  Surprisingly, despite the prominence of the Isetta name and the Italian association, barely a thousand were actually manufactured by Iso, the overwhelming majority produced in many countries by BMW and others to which the a license was granted.  Powered by tiny two and four-stroke engines, their popularity waned as “real” cars such as the Fiat 500 (1955) and later the Mini (1959) emerged; although costing little more than the bubble cars, they offered more space, performance and practicality.  By the early 1960s, the bubble cars were driven almost extinct but, as a tiny specialized niche, they never completely vanished and the Isetta is enjoying a twenty-first century revival as model urban transportation, including the option of electric propulsion.

1968 Iso Rivolta.

The Rivolta was thus quite a jump up-market and, while the engine wasn't the bespoke thoroughbred found in a Ferrari or Aston-Martin, the rest of the specification justified the high price.  Unlike some of the British interpretations using American V8s, Iso insisted on modernity, the platform probably the best of the era, the body welded to a pressed-steel chassis, a combination which proved both light and stiff.  Just as importantly, given the high rate of corporate failure among those attracted to this potentially lucrative market, it was cost-effective to manufacture, reliable and easy to service.  Probably the feature which let it rank with the most accomplished of the era was the sophisticated de Dion rear suspension which, combined with four wheel disc brakes, lent it a rare competence.  The de Dion design was not an independent arrangement but certainly behaved as if it was and, despite what Mercedes-Benz claimed of their beloved swing-axles, was superior to many of the independent setups on offer.  A noted benefit of the de Dion system is it ensures the rear wheels remain always parallel, quite an important feature in an axle which has to transmit to the road the high torque output of a big V8, a lesson Swiss constructor Peter Monteverdi (1934–1998) applied later in the decade when he went into production using even bigger engines.  Iso, with a solid base in accounting and production-line economics, ran an efficient and profitable operation not beset by the recurrent financial crises which afflicted so many and the elegant Rivolta was a success, remaining available until 1970.  Some eight hundred were sold.

1967 Iso Grifo Series One.

The Rivolta’s platform proved adaptable.  In 1965, Iso released the Grifo coupé, more overtly oriented to outright performance and strictly a two-seater.  With lovely lines and a modified version of the Rivolta’s fine chassis, the Grifo was another product of the fertile imaginations of Giugiaro & Bizzarrini but, in something not untypical in Italian industry of the time, the relationship between the latter and Iso’s founder Renzo Rivolta (1908–1966) soon became strained and was sundered.  Bizzarrini would go on to do remarkable things and Iso’s engineers assumed complete control of the Grifo after the first few dozen had been completed.  Bizzarrini had pursued a twin-stream development, a competition version called the A3/C with a lower, lightweight aluminum body as well as the road-going A3/L and when he decamped, he took with him the A3/C, to be released also under his name while Iso devoted its attentions to the A3/L, again using engine-transmission combinations borrowed from the Corvette.

1964 Iso Grifo Spider.

The Grifo weighed a relatively svelte 1430 kg (3153 lbs) in what must have been a reasonably slippery shape because the reports at the time confirmed some 240 km/h (150 mph) was easily attained, an increase on that managed by the Corvette and, when configured with the taller gearing the factory offered, the factory claimed 260 km/h (162 mph), was possible.  A test in the UK in 1966 almost matched that with a verified 161 mph (259 km/h) recorded and two year later, the US publication Car & Driver 1968 tested a 327 Grifo but didn't to a top-speed run, instead estimating 157 mph (253 km/h) should be possible given enough road.  There were surprisingly few variations, fewer than two-dozen made with a targa-style removable roof panel and a single, achingly lovely roadster was displayed on Bertone's stand at the 1964 Geneva Motor Show; it remained a one-off although a couple of coupés privately have been converted.

1970 Iso Grifo Series Two.

The bodywork was revised in 1970, subsequent cars listed as series two models.  The revisions included detail changes to the interior, improvements to the increasingly popular air-conditioning system and some alterations to the body structure, the hydraulics and the electrical system, most necessitated by new regulatory requirements by some European countries but required mostly in an attempt to remain compliant with the more onerous US legislation.  The most obvious change was to the nose, the headlamps now partially concealed by flaps which raised automatically when the lights were activated.  Presumably the smoother nose delivered improved aerodynamics but the factory made no specific claims, either about performance or the drag co-efficient (CD) number.

1972 Iso Lele & 1972 Iso Fidia.

In 1972, an unexpected change in the power-train was announced.  After almost a decade exclusively using Chevrolet engines, Iso issued a press release confirming that henceforth, the series two Grifo would be powered by Ford’s 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) 335 series (Cleveland) V8.  In the state of tune chosen by the factory (essentially the same as fellow Italian specialist De Tomaso were using in their mid-engined Pantera), the Ford engine was similar in size, weight to the small-block Chevrolet and delivered similar power and torque characteristics so the driving experience differed little although there were 22 high-performance Leles using a tuned 351, all with a ZF five-speed manual gearbox.  The other improvement in performance was presumably Iso’s balance sheet.  The switch had been made because internal policy changes at GM meant they were now insisting on being paid up-front for their product whereas Ford was still prepared to offer an invoice with a payment term.  The change extended to the other models in the range, the Lele coupé and Fidia saloon and while the Chevrolet/Ford split in the Lele was 125/157, the circumstances of the time meant that of the 192 Fidias made, only 35 were fitted with the 351.

1969 Iso Grifo 7 Litre (427).

One of the trends which made machines of the 1960s so memorable was a tendency never to do in moderation what could be done in excess.  In 1968, Iso announced the Grifo 7 Litre, built following the example of the US manufacturers who had with little more than a pencil and the back of an envelope worked out the economics of simple seven litre engines were more compelling than adding expensive components like overhead camshafts and fuel-injection to five litre engines.  Petrol was, of course, cheap and limitless.  Petrol actually wasn’t as cheap in Italy or the rest of Europe but Iso’s target market for the Grifo was those who either could afford the running costs or (increasingly) paid their bills with other people’s money (OPM) so fuel consumption wasn’t something often considered.  The new version used a 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) version of the big-block Chevrolet V8, bigger and heavier than the 327 so the driving characteristics of the nose-heavy machine were changed but contemporary reports praised the competence of the chassis, the de Dion rear-end notably superior in behavior compared with the Corvette’s independent rear suspension although some did note it took skill and often a sense of restraint, effectively to use the prodigious power.  Tellingly, the most receptive market for the Grifos, small and big-block, was the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG, the old West Germany) with its network of highways without the tiresome speed limits elsewhere imposed and (even in Italy), often enforced.  The autobahn really was the Grifo's native environment.   

1970 Iso Grifo Can Am (454).

Faster it certainly was although the factory’s claim of a top speed of 186 mph (a convenient 300 km/h) did seem optimistic to anyone with a slide-rule and there appears not to be any record of anyone verifying the number although one published test did claim to have seen well over 255 km/h (150 mph) with the Grifo still "strongly accelerating" before “running out of road”.  It had by then become a genuine problem.  Gone were the happy times when testers still did their work on public roads; increased traffic volumes by the late 1960s meant the often deserted stretches of highway (in 1956 an English journalist had taken a Mercedes-Benz 300SLR Coupé to 183 mph (294 km/h) on the autobahn) were now rare but whatever the terminal velocity, nobody seemed to suggest the 7 litre Grifo lacked power.  In 1970, after Iso’s stock of the by-then out-of-production 427 were exhausted, the big-block car was re-named Can-Am and equipped instead with a 454 cubic inch (7.5 litre) version, the name an allusion to the unlimited displacement Group 7 sports car racing series run in North America in which the big-block Chevrolets were long the dominant engine.  Despite the increased displacement, power actually dropped a little because the 454 was detuned a little to meet the then still modest anti-emission regulations.

1971 Iso Grifo Can Am (454).

Unlike the 427 which breathed through three two barrel carburetors, the 454 was equipped with less intricate induction, a single four barrel and, officially, output dropped from 435 horsepower to 390 but, these were gross (SAE) numbers and Detroit’s high-performance engines in this era were rated at something around what a manufacturer thought would be acceptable (all things considered), rather than an absolutely accurate number but the 454 certainly was just a little less potent than the 427 although it's probable few owners often went fast enough to tell the difference.  What didn’t change between the 7 Litre and the Can Am was its most distinctive feature, the modification to the hood (bonnet) made to ensure the additional height of the 427's induction system could be accommodated.  The raised central section, the factory dubbed "the penthouse".

Penthouse on 1969 Iso Grifo 7 Litre (427).

Not everyone admired the stark simplicity, supposing, not unreasonably, that Giugiaro might have done something more in sympathy with its surroundings.  Critics more stern would have preferred a curvaceous scoop or bulge and thought the penthouse amateurish, an angular discordance bolted unhappily atop Giugiaro’s flowing lines  but for those brought up in the tradition of brutalist functionalism, it seemed an admirable tribute to what lay beneath.  The days of the big-block Grifo were however numbered.  In 1972, with Chevrolet no longer willing to extent credit, and Ford’s big-block (429 & 460) engines re-tuned as low-emission (for the time) units suitable for pickup trucks and luxury cars, the Can-Am was retired.  So the small-block 351 Grifo became the sole model in the range but it too fell victim to changing times, production lasting not long beyond the first oil shock in October 1973 which made petrol suddenly not only much more expensive but sometimes also scarce and the whole ecosystem of the trans-Atlantic machines became threatened and in little more than a year, Iso was one of the many dinosaurs driven extinct.  Decades later, the survivors of the 412 sold are highly desirable; fine examples of the small-block Grifos attract over US$500,000, the few dozen penthouse cars can sell for up to a million and the rare early A3/Cs for well over.

Not fans of brutalist functionalism were the Lancia-loving types at Road & Track (R&T) magazine in the US.  Late in 1974, R&T published their 1975 buyer’s guide for imported and domestically-built smaller cars (R&T neither approving of nor understanding why anyone would wish to buy a big American car) and surprisingly, there were reviews of the Grifo, Lele and Fidia although the last of these sold in the US some two years earlier had been titled as 1973 models, the company having never sought to certification to continue sales although, given nothing had been done to modify them to meet the new safety regulations, that would likely have been pointless unless the strategy was to seek a "low volume" exemption, something improbable by 1975.  The distributors had however indicated to the press all three would return to the US market in 1975, supplying publicity photographs which included a Series II "penthouse" Grifo although the big-block cars hadn't been built in Italy since 1972.  A further complication was that during 1974, Ford had discontinued production of the high-performance 351 (the "Cleveland" 335 series) V8 so it wasn't clear what power-train would have been used.  Others had the same problem, De Tomaso (which withdrew from the US market in 1974) switching to use tuned versions of the Australian-built Cleveland 351s but for Iso, the whole issue became irrelevant as the factory was closed late in 1974.  R&T's last thoughts on the penthouse appeared in the buyer's guide:

"However, the clean lines of the original Grifo have been spoiled by that terrible looking outgrowth on the hood used for air cleaner clearance.  For US$28,500 (around US$150,000 in 2024 $ although direct translation of such a value is difficult to calculate because of the influence of exchange rates), a better solution to this problem should have been found."

View from the penthouse in which Lindsay Lohan lived in 2014, W Residences, Manhattan, New York City.

Perpendicular

Perpendicular (pronounced pur-puhn-dik-yuh-ler)

(1) Vertical; straight up and down; upright; normal at right angles to a horizontal plane.

(2) In geometry, meeting a given line or surface at right angles.

(3) Maintaining a standing or upright position; standing up; exactly upright; extending in a straight line toward the centre of the earth, etc.

(4) In architecture, noting or pertaining to the last style of English Gothic, prevailing from the late fourteenth to the early sixteenth centuries and characterized by by stiff, rectilinear lines and the use of predominantly vertical tracery, an overall linear, shallow effect, depressed or four-centre arch, fan-tracery vaulting, panelled walls and fine intricate stonework (should be used with an initial capital letter so it’s not confused with being a purely geometric reference).

(5) In rock-climbing, a sharply pitched or precipitously steep mountain face.

(6) Moral virtue or uprightness; rectitude (largely obsolete).

(7) In Admiralty jargon, either of two lines perpendicular to the keel line, base line, or designed water line of a vessel.

(8) In surveying, a device such as a plumb line that is used in making or marking a perpendicular line.

(9) In historic slang, a meal taken while standing at the bar of a tavern (obsolete).

1350–1400: From the Middle French perpendiculaire, from the Old French perpendiculer, from the Latin perpendiculāris (vertical, as a plumb line), the construct being perpendicul(um) (plumb line), from pendēre (to weigh hang) and perpendere (carefully to balance (the construct of which was per- (thoroughly) + pendēre (to hang, cause to hang; to weigh)) from the primitive Indo-European root spen & pen (to draw, stretch, spin) + āris.  The suffix -aris was a form of -ālis with dissimilation of -l- to -r- after roots containing an l (the alternative forms were -ālis, -ēlis, -īlis & -ūlis); it was used to form adjectives, usually from noun, indicating a relationship or a "pertaining to”.  The French borrowing replaced the Middle English perpendiculer(e) and is the source of the modern pendant.  The noun from existed from the 1570s (the earlier noun was the circa 1400 perpendicle) and in astronomy, navigation and related matters, it was in the late fifteenth century the sense of a line "lying at right angles to the horizon" developed from an earlier adverb referring to "at right angles to the horizon.

The noun perpensity (consideration, a pondering, careful attention) appears first to have been used in the early eighteenth century, the construct being the Latin perpens- (past-participle stem of perpendere (carefully to balance) and has since the late nineteenth century been listed either as archaic or obsolete.  Perpendicular is a noun and adjective, perpendicularness & perpendicularity are nouns and perpendicularly is an adverb; the noun plural is perpendiculars.  Although perpendicular describes what nominally is an absolute value, most dictionaries acknowledge the comparative more as perpendicular & the superlative as most perpendicular, reflecting the use of the word to describe also the “quality of that which tends towards”, hence the existence in geometry, mathematics, architecture & engineering of the presumably helpful adjective quasiperpendicular to refer to the mysterious “partially perpendicular”.

In audio engineering, a perpendicular recording is the technique of creating magnetic data storage using vertical as opposed to longitudinal magnetization.  The synonym used in a technical context is orthogonal (independent of or irrelevant to each other).  To most, the idea of the perpendicular is simple but it’s been borrowed to describe some complex concepts such as the perpendicular universe (though these perhaps by definition seem usually to be referred to in the plural as perpendicular universes) which exists to distinguish it from a parallel universe (which must in some way be different).  The perpendicular universe is thus one of the competing notions (some insist these are legitimate theories) of multiple universes which are in some way parallel (as opposed to sequential or circular) though not of necessity perpendicular.  Seems clear enough.

The Perpendicular Pronoun:  The first-person singular pronoun "I"

There is a general rule defining when to use “I” or “me” in a sentence and that is the first person singular pronoun is “I” when it’s a subject and “me” when it’s an object (the subject is the person or thing doing something, and the object is having something done to it and the often quoted example to illustrate the difference is the sentence “I love you”.  “I” is the subject of the sentence. “You” is the object of the sentence (also the object of one's affection).

Lindsay Lohan and her sister Aliana at the Melbourne Cup, 2019.

In most cases it’s easier to deconstruct the sentence than think about the rule.  To work if one should say (1) “Lindsay and I are going to the Melbourne Cup” or (2) “Lindsay and me are going to the Melbourne Cup”, deconstruction confirms (1) is correct because “I am going to the Melbourne Cup” works and “Me is going to The Melbourne Cup” does not.  That’s fine but because “me” is often wrongly used, something of a perception has evolved to suggest it must always be wrong and “I” must always be correct. However, everything depends on the sentence.  It’s correct to say “Lindsay and I both picked the winning horse” but it’s also right to say “A selfie of the winning horse with Lindsay and me”, something which can be checked by redacting either “Lindsay and” or “and me”.

Lindsay Lohan in Falling for Christmas (Netflix, 2022)

Modern English use has anyway actually banished the perpendicular pronoun from places where once it was a marker of the educated.  To say “It is I” remains supported by historic grammatical correctness but sounds now so strange (because the common form is “It’s me”) that many would it’s wrong.  Pedants fret over things like this but the world has moved on and if in answer to the question “Is that you Ali” the response came “This is she”, the antiquated correctness might discombobulate one while “It’s me” would not.