Package

Package (pronounce pak-ij)

(1) A bundle of something, usually of small or medium size, that is packed and wrapped or boxed; parcel.

(2) A container, as a box or case, in which something is or may be packed.

(3) Something conceived of as a (usually) compact unit having particular characteristics.

(4) The packing of goods, freight etc.

(5) A finished product contained in a unit that is suitable for immediate installation and operation, as a power or heating unit.

(6) A group, combination, or series of related parts or elements to be accepted or rejected as a single unit.

(7) A complete program produced for the theatre, television etc or a series of these, sold as a unit.

(8) In computing, a set of programs designed for a specific type of problem in statistics, production control etc, making it unnecessary for a separate program to be written for each problem.

(9) In computing, software distributed with a (sometimes optional) routine which enables a number of components to be installed and configured in the one action, meaning the end-user doesn’t have to be acquainted with pre-requisites, co-requisites etc.

(10) In computing, an alternative name for a “software suite” which provides a structured installation and configuration of what are (historically or nominally) separate programs.

(11) In vulgar slang, the male genitalia.

(12) To make or put into a package.

(13) To design and manufacture a package for (a product or series of related products).

(14) To group or combine (a series of related parts) into a single unit.

(15) To combine the various elements of (a tour, entertainment, etc.) for sale as a unit.

1530s: The original form of the word was in the sense of “the act of packing”, either as the construct of the noun pack + -age or from the cognate Dutch pakkage (baggage).  Pack was from the Middle English pak & pakke, from the Old English pæcca and/or the Middle Dutch pak & packe, both ultimately from the Proto-West Germanic pakkō, from the Proto-Germanic pakkô (bundle, pack).  It was cognate with the Dutch pak (pack), the Low German & German Pack (pack), the Swedish packe (pack) and the Icelandic pakka & pakki (package).  The suffix -age was from the Middle English -age, from the Old French -age, from the Latin -āticum.  Cognates include the French -age, the Italian -aggio, the Portuguese -agem, the Spanish -aje & Romanian -aj.  It was used to form nouns (1) with the sense of collection or appurtenance, (2) indicating a process, action, or a result, (3) of a state or relationship, (4) indicating a place, (5) indicating a charge, toll, or fee, (6) indicating a rate & (7) of a unit of measure.  The familiar modern sense of “a bundle, a parcel, a quantity pressed or packed together” dates from 1722 while that creation of modern commerce, the “package deal” (a transaction agreed to as a whole) emerged in 1952.  As a verb meaning “to bundle up into a pack or package” it was in use by at least 1915 and was a development of the noun.  The noun packaging (act of making into a package or packages) seems to have come into use in 1875.  Derived forms are created as needed (mispackage, subpackage, repackage, unpackage et al). As a modifier, package is now most associated with the “package deal” in its many advertised forms (package holiday, package saver, package tour et al).  Package & packaging are nouns & verbs, packager is a noun, packaged is a verb and packageable is an adjective; the noun plural is packages.

DVD Package deal.

The concept of the "package deal" is to sell two or more items at a list price which is less than the total nominal value.  It's used for a variety of purposes, often to use a popular product to shift surplus copies of one less successful.  It's a popular concept but does need to be done with care.  In 2014, Apple did a deal with the Irish rock band U2 which for many iTunes users had the consequence of an unrequested downloading to their devices the band's latest album.  Many people take pop music very seriously and were apparently offended by the notion of an unwanted album by a boomer band being forced upon them.  Apple haven't since repeated the packaging experience.

Detroit, the option lists and the packages

1967 Chevrolet Impala SS 327.

When in the late 1950s computers migrated from the universities and defense industries to commerce, among the early adopters were the US car manufacturers; they found intriguing the notion that with a computerized system in place, each vehicle could be built to a customer’s individual order.  This had of course for decades been done by low-volume manufacturers catering to the upper class but the administrative and logistical challenges of doing it at scale on a rapidly moving production line had precluded the approach for the mass-market.  Computerization changed that and what happened was: (1) a customer visited a dealer and ticked what they wanted from what suddenly became a long and expanding options list, (2) the dealer forwarded the list (on paper) to the manufacturers central production office (CPO) where, (3) a data entry operator typed the information into a machine which stored it on a punch card which (4) subsequently produced (on paper) a “build sheet” which went to the assembly line foreman who ensured his workers produced each car in accordance with its build sheet.

Option list for 1967 full-size Chevrolet range (Biscayne, Bel Air, Impala & Caprice).

The system actually worked and within its parameters was efficient but accountants were not impressed by the complexity and while they acknowledged a system with dozens of options per model could be done, they said it shouldn’t be done because it would be more profitable to assemble often-ordered combinations of options into a bundle which could be sold as a package.  What this meant was production runs would become more efficient because thousands of identically configured cars could be made, reducing the chance of error and avoiding the need for each line to be supplied with optional parts not included in the set specification.  The other attraction was that people would end up paying for things they might not have wanted, simply because the “package” was the only way to get the stuff really desired.  The classic examples was the various “executive” packages which included power-steering, automatic transmission and air-conditioning and some packages proved so popular they were sometimes further commoditized by becoming a stand-alone model such as Chevrolet’s Caprice which had in 1965 begun life as a bundle of “luxury” items (packaged as Regular Production Option (RPO) Z18 for the Impala) before the next year becoming a separate model designation which wasn’t finally retired until 2017.  Under the pressure of (1) packaging and (2) increasing levels of standard equipment, the option lists shrunk in the 1970s and were soon trimmed to a handful of items, most of them fitted by dealers rather than installed by the factory.     

Care packages

Care packages were originally a private initiative of US based charities which organized the assembly of items (with an emphasis on food-stuffs with a long shelf-life which didn’t demand refrigeration) which could be shipped to Europe to aid the civilian population, many of who were malnourished in the aftermath of the war.  Initial discussions focused on post-war planning were held in 1944 and CARE was formed late the next year, the first shipment of packages beginning in the second quarter of 1946, one of the early sources of supply the large stockpile of Army ration-packs which were produced for the amphibious invasion of the Japanese mainland but never used because the conflict was ended by the use of atomic bombs.  What CARE shipped was an example of the use of the adjective pre-packaged (packaged at the site of production), a form which is documented from 1944 although the date is coincidental to the formation of CARE.  The name was originally an acronym: Cooperative for American Remittances to Europe, but in 1959, reflecting what for some time had been the reality of CARE’s operations, it was changed to Cooperative for American Relief Everywhere.  In 1993 it was again changed to Cooperative for Assistance and Relief Everywhere, cognizant both of what would now be called “political optics” and the organization’s now international structure.

North Korean Freedom Coalition care package price list.

News that Kim Jong-un (Kim III, b 1982; Supreme Leader of DPRK (North Korea) since 2011) had banned Christmas in the DPRK so upset Christian activists that they redoubled their efforts to undermine the regime, advertising a list of “care packages” which could be launched into the Yellow Sea in bottles, the currents carrying them to the shores of the hermit kingdom, good Christian folk encouraged to donate between US$17 (which buys a small, concealable Bible) and US$1500 (a cell phone including roaming charges).  The activists operate from the Washington, DC-based North Korean Freedom Coalition (NKFC) which, in addition to challenging the “godless” Supreme Leader with teachings from Jesus, hopes practical care packages containing items such as shortwave radios and propaganda leaflets will destabilize the Kim dynasty.  The NKFC call the strategy “Operation Truth” and say it's modeled on the Berlin Airlift (1948-1949) which forced the Soviet Union to lift its blockade of West Berlin.  The most obviously practical of the packages contain enough rice to feed a family of four for a week, as well as a Bible on a flash drive and a US$1 bill, a much-sought after item in the DPRK.  In a clever twist which turns post-modernism against itself, the USB flash drives contain some North Korean music but with the lyrics altered from singing the praises of Kim Jong-un to lines worshiping God.  Decadent K-Pop songs are also loaded but the content of those (like the US movies also included) will be carefully checked to ensure nothing un-Christian is shipped.  Those who provided recorded messages included senators Jim Risch and Tim Kaine, & representatives Michael McCaul and Gregory Meeks; as if K-Pop wasn’t bad enough, that does sound like “cruel and unusual punishment”.  The packages are being supported by Fox News, the audience of which hates communists, atheists, Kim Jong-un and Joe Biden.

Moved to tears: The Supreme Leader sobbing when thinking of the lack of fecundity among his women, Pyongyang, December 2023.  

One who may deserve a care package is the Supreme Leader himself who recently was moved to tears as he implored his faithful female subjects to have more babies and raise them to love their country.  Kim Jong-un was filmed daubing is eyes with an immaculately pressed white handkerchief while addressing thousands of women gathered at a national mothers meeting in Pyongyang, the first such assembly in over a decade and one convened amid rising concerns over a fall in the DPRK’s birth rate.  “Stopping the decline in birthrates and providing good child care and education are all our family affairs that we should solve together with our mothers” the Supreme Leader was quoted as saying and with a rumored three children, he’s certainly done his bit.  Kim II went on to remind mothers their “primary revolutionary task” was to drill “socialist virtues” into their offspring and instil loyalty to the ruling party, adding that “…unless a mother becomes a communist, it is impossible for her to bring up her sons and daughters as communists and transform the members of her family into revolutionaries”.  Possibly fearing how they might be led astray by listening either to K-Pop or Senator Tim Kane, he warned the adoring women to be vigilant about any foreign influence on young minds, telling them to send their children to perform hard labour for the state to correct bad behaviour that is not “our style”.  The demographic problem isn’t restricted to the DPRK; in the region, policy-makers in both Japan and the RoK (the Republic of Korea (South Korea)) are also alarmed at the increasingly flaccid trend-line of population growth but for the DPRK, with its reliance on manual labour and military service, things rapidly could deteriorate.

Package deal: With every election of Bill Clinton, voters received a free copy of crooked Hillary.

There were suggestions the dictatorial tears were an indication of the uniqueness of the crisis and while it was true the dynasty had no tradition of lachrymosity, neither Kim Il-sung (Kim I, 1912–1994; Great Leader of DPRK (North Korea) 1948-1994) nor Kim Jong-il (Kim II, 1941-2011; Dear Leader of DPRK (North Korea) 1994-2011) ever having been seen crying but Kim Jong-un had shed a public tear in the past: In 2020, he cried as he issued an apology for failing to guide the reclusive country through turbulent economic times at the outset of the COVID-19 pandemic.  So unexpected and unusual were the words of regret that the tears weren’t widely reported but at the military parade held in July 2023 to mark the 70th anniversary of the end of the Korean War that divided the peninsula, the Supreme Leader proved he could also shed tears of joy, his eyes watering as the big missiles passed under his gaze.

Director

Director (pronounced dih-rek-ter or dahy-rek-ter)

(1) A person or thing that directs others or other things (Director of Engineering, Director of Sales et al).

(2) In corporate law, one of a group of persons chosen to control or govern the affairs of a company or corporation, usually as a member of a board of directors and sometimes also including executive functions.

(3) The person responsible for the interpretive aspects of a stage, film, or television production; the person who supervises the integration of all the elements, as acting, staging, lighting etc.

(4) In musical or other artistic productions (stage, art galleries, opera etc) one in charge of all artistic (and sometimes administrative) matters (in larger operations the roles sometimes specialized: sound director, script director etc).

(5) The manager or chief executive of certain schools, institutes, government bureaux etc.

(6) In military use, a mechanical or electronic device which continuously calculates firing data for use against an airplane or other moving target, configured usually to display graphical information about in real time the targets of a weapons system.

(7) In chemistry, the common axis of symmetry of the molecules of a liquid crystal.

(8) In music, a synonym for conductor (US use, now less common).

(9) A counsellor, confessor, or spiritual guide (now less common).

1470-1480: The construct was direct(us) + -or.  A borrowing in the sense of “a guide” from the Anglo French directour & the French directeur the agent noun from the Latin dirigere (set straight, arrange; give a particular direction to) and its source, the Late Latin directorem, from the Latin dīrectus, the perfect passive participle of dīrigō (straighten, direct), the construct being dis- (asunder, in pieces, apart, in two) + regō (to direct, to guide, keep straight; make straight; rule), from the primitive Indo-European root reg (move in a straight line).  The -or suffix was from the Middle English -our, from the Old French -eor, from the Latin -ātor and reinforced by the Old French -or and its source, the Latin -tor & -tōrem.  It was used to create an agent noun, often from a verb, indicating a person or object (often machines or parts of them) that do the verb or part of speech with which they are formed.  In electrical engineering it has the specific use of being appended to the names of members of classes of components, especially those that have an extensive property name of the same root suffixed with -ance (eg to convey the sense that resistors possess resistance and inductors possess inductance).  The alternative spelling directour became rare in the late eighteenth century and is long obsolete.  Director, directorate & directorship are nouns, directing is a verb, directed is a verb & adjective, directorial is an adjective and directorially is an adverb; the noun plural is directors.  The feminine forms of the noun (directress & directrix) were always rare and are now thought extinct (and certainly proscribed).

Lindsay Lohan with Spanish fashion designer Estrella Arch (b 1974), on the catwalk at the conclusion of Emanuel Ungaro's Spring-Summer show in Paris, October 2009.  Ms Lohan was employed as a creative director at the House of Emanuel Ungaro, founded in 1965 by French fashion designer Emanuel Ungaro (1933–2019)

The noun director (corporate sense of “one of a number of persons having authority to manage the affairs of a company” was known as early as the 1630s; the theatrical sense of “the leader of a company of performers” dates from 1911 and if was from here the use was picked up by those in charge of the artistic or technical aspects of movie-making.  The noun directorship (condition or office of a director) has been in use since the 1720s, the adjective directorial (that directs) known since 1770.  The noun directorate was used first in 1834 of “a body of directors” and may immediately have be used individually of the “office of a director” but this was certainly first documented in 1837.  Director is a word defined both by its history of use (film director, director of football etc) and law (company director) so although titles like supervisor, head, manager, leader, administrator, chief, boss etc certainly implies “one who directs”, they’re traditionally not used as direct synonyms because “director” is a “loaded word”.  It’s also modified as needed (art director, managing director, sub-director et al).

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with "Mobile Director Package"; note the rearward facing front passenger seat.  

In the years between 1955-1975, Chrysler re-created Imperial as a separate, stand-alone division within the corporation (albeit with some sharing with other divisions of engine-transmission combinations and certain other components), emulating the structure Ford used with Lincoln.  Although the approach, especially during the early years, yielded some success, the separation didn’t survive the troubled decades of the 1970s (by which time the platform and body-shells were shared with the other divisions and much of the earlier distinctiveness had been surrendered); a couple of subsequent, half-heated, revivals proved abortive.  The Imperial in 1967-1968 had actually switched from the separate frame used since 1955 to the unitary construction of the full-sized ranges offered by other divisions but maintained a certain degree of difference by virtue of a unique body, albeit one with slightly reduced dimensions from those of the previous decade.  Although styled with an elegance derived from its simplicity of line, the Imperial continued to not quite match the timeless modernity of the Lincoln or the indefinable but incomparable allure of the Cadillac and although sales did improve in 1967, the volumes were only ever a fraction of its two competitors.  The basic engineering though was sound, the TorqueFlite transmission as responsive and robust as any (although it didn’t quite slur as effortlessly between ratios as the Cadillac’s Turbo-Hydramatic) and the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) a notch better, something the others wouldn’t match until 1968.  Significantly, all at the time acknowledged the Imperial was the better road car although, given it operated in a market where quietness and isolation from the environment was afforded more of a premium than handling prowess, any real-world advantage in the target market was probably marginal.

The more stylish if less roadable opposition: 1967 Cadillac Coupe DeVille (left) & 1967 Lincoln Continental Coupe (right).

In those years however, the Imperial did offer something truly unique.  The “Mobile Director Package” was available exclusively on the Imperial Crown Coupe and reflected (within the limits of what the available technology would then permit) what Chrysler thought a company director would most value in an automobile being used as a kind of “office on the move” and it included: an extendable walnut-topped table which could be unfolded over the rear seats, a gooseneck (Tensor brand) high-intensity lamp which could be plugged into the cigarette lighter on either side of the car (in a sign of the times, Imperials had four cigarette lighters installed) and most intriguingly, the front passenger seat could rotate 180° to permit someone comfortably to use the tables and interact with those in the rear.  All the publicity material associated with the Mobile Director Package did suggest the rearward-facing seat would likely be occupied by a director’s secretary and as one might imagine, the configuration did preclude her (and those depicted were usually women) using a lap & sash seat-belt but she would always have been in arm’s reach of at least one cigarette lighter so there was that.  The package was available only for those two seasons and in its first years cost US$597.40 (some US$5500 adjusted for 2023 values).  The cost of the option was in 1968 reduced to US$317.60 (some US$2800 adjusted for 2023 values) but that did little to stimulate demand, only 81 buyers of Crown Coupes ticking the box so even if the new safety regulations hadn’t outlawed the idea, it’s doubtful the Mobile Director Package would have appeared on the option list in 1969 when the new (and ultimately doomed) “fuselage” Imperials debuted.

Imperial's advertising always emphasised the "business" aspect of the package but the corporation also circulated a photograph of the table supporting a (presumably magnetic) chessboard and another with a bunch of grapes tumbling seductively.  The latter may have been to suggest the utility of the package when stopping for a picnic with one's secretary.  Once advertising agencies got ideas, they were hard to restrain.    

The advertising copy at the time claimed the package was “designed for the busy executive who must continue his work while he travels”, serving also as “an informal conference lounge”.  The Imperial was a big car (although the previous generations were larger still) but “lounge” was a bit of a stretch but “truth in advertising” laws were then not quite as onerous as they would become.  More accurate were the engineering details, the table able to “pivot to any of four different positions, supported by a sturdy chrome-plated pillar and in the forward position, it can convert into a padded armrest between the two front seats while extended, it opens out to twice its original size with a lever on the table swivel support to permit adjustments to the height”.  It was noted “a special tool is used for removing the table and storing it in the trunk” the unstated implication presumably that in deference to the secretary’s finger-nails, that would be a task for one’s chauffeur.  The US$597.40 the option listed at in 1967 needs to be compared with the others available and only the most elaborate of the air condition systems was more expensive.

Imperial option list, 1967.

The package as it appeared in showrooms was actually modest compared with the “Mobile Executive” car the corporation sent around the show circuit in 1966.  That Imperial had been fitted with a telephone, Dictaphone, writing table, typewriter, television, a fax machine, reading lamp and stereophonic sound system.  The 1966 show car was also Crown Coupe but it was much more ambitious, anticipating advances in mobile communications which would unfold over the next quarter century.  At the time, car phones were available (the first service in the US offered during the late 1940s) although they were expensive and the nature of the bandwidth used and the lack of data compression meant that the range was limited as was the capacity; only several dozen calls able simultaneously to be sustained.  In 1966, there was even the novelty of a Datafax, able to send or receive a US Letter-sized (slightly smaller than A4) page of text in six minutes.  That sounds unimpressive in 2023 (or compared even with the 14.4 kbit/s for Group 3 FaxStream services of the 1990s) but the appropriate comparison is with the contemporary alternatives (driving, walking or using the US Mail) and six minutes would have been a considerable advance.  As it was, the tempting equipment awaited improvements in infrastructure such as the analogue networks of the 1980s and later cellular roll-outs and these technologies contributed to the extent of use which delivered the economies of scale which eventually would make possible smart phones.

The 1966 car which toured the show circuit demonstrated the concept which, in simplified form, would the next year appear on the option list but things like telephones and fax machines anticipated the future by many years (although fax machines in cars (Audi one of a handful to offer them) never became a thing).  The Dictaphone did however make the list as one of Chrysler's regular production options (RPO) in the early 1970s and the take-up rate was surprisingly high although the fad quickly passed, dealers reporting the customers saying they worked well but they "never used them".

Facsimile

Facsimile (pronounced fak-sim-uh-lee)

(1) An exact copy of something (most typically a book, painting, or manuscript).

(2) In telecommunications a method, protocol collection or device (ie the “fax” or “fax machine”) for transmitting data which exists in printed form (typically text documents, drawings, photographs et al) by means of radio or telephone for exact reproduction on a compatible device in another place; expressed usually as the clipping “fax”.

(4) An image transmitted by such a method (historically always in paper hard-copy but technically can be a digital file (e-Fax and similar systems).

(4) To reproduce in facsimile; make a facsimile of something (also as a modifier as in facsimile publication or facsimile transmission).

1655–1665: From the earlier fac simile! (make something like it!), the construct being the Latin fac (imperative of facere (to make; to render) (from the primitive Indo-European root dhe- (to set, put in place)) + simile, noun use of the neuter of similis (alike; similar).  In the English-speaking world, the one-word form was almost universal by the early twentieth century; that always used for the adjective which dates from 1877.  In the modern way, other languages tended to use “fax” unaltered from English use as the technology was adopted.  One exception was French where the older form fac-similé (plural fac-similés) was officially preferred even to facsimilé but even there the monosyllabic “fax” usually prevailed.  Facsimile (like fax) is a noun, verb & adjective, facsimiled (or facsimiled) & facsimileing (or facsimiling) are verbs (again, more familiar as faxed & faxing); the noun plural is either facsimiles or facsimilia (and of fax it is faxes).

There are a remarkable number of synonyms for facsimile (in the sense of copy) including copy, carbon copy, likeness, replica, clone, copy, ditto, double, dupe, duplicate, look-alike, mimeo, mirror, print, reduplication, replication & ringer (even “miniature” was often used and understood in context) but such was the influence of the fax machine that for other purposes “facsimile” tends now to be used only in historic reference.  One example of appropriate use was the celebration in 1943 of the 50^th birthday of Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Minister of Foreign Affairs of Nazi Germany 1938-1945), the highlight of which was a presentation to the minister of a diamond-studded casket containing facsimiles of all the treaties he had signed during (his admittedly busy if not productive) tenure.  When one of his aides remarked that there were only “a few treaties we had not broken”, Ribbentrop was briefly uncertain how to react until he saw “…Hitler’s eyes filled with tears of laughter”.  It was said to be a good party.  The casual dismissiveness towards treaties was shared by most of the Nazi regime, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; prominent Nazi 1923-1945 & Reichsmarschall of Germany 1940-1975) cheerfully gloating when under cross-examination during the Nuremburg Trial (1945-1946) that he regarded treaties as “…just so much toilet paper”.  Like Ribbentrop, he was convicted on all four counts and (planning aggressive war, waging aggressive war, war crimes & crimes against humanity) and sentenced to be hanged.

Facsimile copy of the secret protocol to the Ribbentrop-Molotov (Nazi-Soviet) Pact, signed in Moscow 23 August 1939.

The protocol defined (1) the parameters of the two countries respective spheres of interest in parts of Europe, (2) the actual borders of the Baltic States (Estonia, Latvia & Lithuania) and (3) the division of Poland.  In the case of Poland, the line of demarcation was essentially the same as the Curzon Line, drawn in 1919 by the UK's foreign secretary Lord Curzon (1859–1925), something which in discussions towards the end of World War II (1939-1645) would cause some embarrassment to British negotiators.

Fax machines are unfashionable though not quite extinct.  For most users, most of the time, the alternatives are better but fax across phone lines did have some real advantages, the most obvious being security; it was just about impossible to intercept a tax message unless one was able physically to tap into the physical copper wires attaching the send & receive devices to the telephone network.  There was also something pleasingly democratic about fax, the low transmission speed (the default for years was 14.4 kbit/s although support for the V34 standard (28.8 & 33.6) became common and digital modems even ran over ISDN at 64 kbit/s) meant just about everyone on the telephone network ran at about the same rate.  Sometimes too, legislation for a while cemented the fax’s place in communications, banks and the real estate industry long fond of the fax because a signature transmitted thus was accepted as evidence in matters of contract law while the electronic version was not (and with good reason).  Cultural factors too made a difference.  Long after their receptionists had switched to using computers and thus eMail and other forms of communications, medical practitioners seemed to be creatures of habit and thought if something wasn’t a fax then it wasn’t real.

Lindsay Lohan, faxed.

Fax as short form of facsimile was wholly unrelated to the original fax which was from the Middle English fax, from the Old English feax (hair, head of hair), from the Proto-West Germanic fahs, from the Proto-Germanic fahsą (hair, mane), from the primitive Indo-European poḱsom (hair (literally “that which is combed, shorn, or plucked”)), from the primitive Indo-European peḱ- (to comb, shear, pluck).  It was cognate with the Dutch vas (headhair), the German Fachs (head-hai”), the Norwegian faks (mane), the Icelandic fax (mane) and the Sanskrit पक्ष्मन् (pákṣman) (eyelash, hair, filament).  The Latin fax (torch, firebrand; fireball, comet; cause of ruin, incitement), from the primitive Indo-European ǵhwehk- (to shine) and cognate with facētus (elegant, fine; courteous, polite; witty, jocose, facetious) and the Lithuanian žvakė (candle) and there’s also a speculative link to the Etruscan word for face (which may also have meant torch).  In English (and apparently Scottish) dialectal use it used to mean “hair of the head” until the late fifteenth century.  The first recorded use as a clipping of facsimile (or in some countries “telefax”) to describe the consumer level telecommunications technology, its output and use is thought to date from 1979 but use as an oral form may slightly have predated this.  However, as a noun, “fax” had been in use by telegraphy engineers since 1948 and the verb in this context dates from at least 1970 although, in oral use it could have a longer history.

Brother FAX1820C fax machine.

Adding to the obsolescence was the switch in many countries away from the sometimes century-old analogue network of copper wires to a digital system, something which was the death knell of many fax machines.  In corporations, where internal PBXs (private branch exchange (also PABX (private automated branch exchange)), had usually provided a translation layer which provided both analogue and digital lines, the fax machines (usually as one of the components of a MFD (multi-function device which handled photocopying, faxing, scanning, OCR (optical character recognition) and sometimes even storage) carried serenely on although the evidence suggested use had diminished sometimes to zero.  Even in homes and small businesses without a PBX, adaptors are available which link a fax machine to a SIP/VoIP (Session Initiation Protocol/Voice over Internet Protocol) account, emulating the analogue original.  Unlike the old and robust telephone system, reliability could be patchy because the performance of the internet tends to bounce around more and (strangely) error correction is a less exact science.  There are more sophisticated solutions but they don’t use existing hardware so costs are higher and the take-up rate has been low, reflecting that most e-mail or other messaging solutions cover the needs of most users at zero or marginal cost.

The Imperial fax machine that never was

In the two decades between 1955-1975 when Chrysler in the US ran Imperial as a separate division rather than a badge to be used for up-market versions built on the corporate full-sized platform (although Imperials in their last generations did revert to such engineering), despite the odd encouraging season, the brand never threatened the dominance of Cadillac in the sector and rarely troubled Ford's Lincoln, the perennial runner-up.  The 1967 & 1968 Imperial range did however offer something truly unique.  The “Mobile Director Package” was available exclusively on the Imperial Crown Coupe and reflected (within the limits of what the available technology and fiscal realism would then permit) what Chrysler thought a company director would most value in an automobile being used as a kind of “office on the move” and it included: an extendable walnut-topped table which could be unfolded over the rear seats, a gooseneck (Tensor brand) high-intensity lamp which could be plugged into the cigarette lighter on either side of the car (in a sign of the times, Imperials had four cigarette lighters installed) and most intriguingly, the front passenger seat could rotate 180° to permit someone comfortably to use the tables and interact with those in the rear.  Unfortunately, the fax machine previewed on the well-publicized prototype didn't make the cut for the production version.  All the publicity material associated with the Mobile Director Package did suggest the rearward-facing seat would likely be occupied by a director’s secretary and as one might imagine, the configuration did preclude her (and those depicted were usually women) using a lap & sash seat-belt but she would always have been in arm’s reach of at least one cigarette lighter so there was that.  The package was available only for those two seasons and in its first years cost US$597.40 (some US$5500 adjusted for 2023 values).  The cost of the option was in 1968 reduced to US$317.60 (some US$2800 adjusted for 2023 values) but that did little to stimulate demand, only 81 buyers of Crown Coupes ticking the box so even if the new safety regulations hadn’t outlawed the idea, it’s doubtful the Mobile Director Package would have appeared on the option list in 1969 when the new (and ultimately doomed) “fuselage” Imperials debuted.

Imperial's advertising always emphasised the "business" aspect of the package but the corporation also circulated a photograph of the table supporting a (presumably magnetic) chessboard and another with a bunch of grapes tumbling seductively.  The latter may have been to suggest the utility of the package when stopping for a picnic with one's secretary.  Once advertising agencies got ideas, they were hard to restrain.    

The advertising copy at the time claimed the package was “designed for the busy executive who must continue his work while he travels”, serving also as “an informal conference lounge”.  The Imperial was a big car (although the previous generations were larger still) but “lounge” was a bit of a stretch but “truth in advertising” laws were then not quite as onerous as they would become.  More accurate were the engineering details, the table able to “pivot to any of four different positions, supported by a sturdy chrome-plated pillar and in the forward position, it can convert into a padded armrest between the two front seats while extended, it opens out to twice its original size with a lever on the table swivel support to permit adjustments to the height”.  It was noted “a special tool is used for removing the table and storing it in the trunk” the unstated implication presumably that in deference to the secretary’s finger-nails, that would be a task for one’s chauffeur.  The US$597.40 the option listed at in 1967 needs to be compared with the others available and only the most elaborate of the air conditioning systems was more expensive.

Imperial option list, 1967.

The package as it appeared in showrooms was actually modest compared with the “Mobile Executive” car the corporation sent around the show circuit in 1966.  That Imperial had been fitted with a telephone, Dictaphone, writing table, typewriter, television, a fax machine, reading lamp and stereophonic sound system.  The 1966 show car was also Crown Coupe but it was much more ambitious, anticipating advances in mobile communications which would unfold over the next quarter century.  At the time, car phones were available (the first service in the US offered during the late 1940s) although they were expensive and the nature of the bandwidth used and the lack of data compression meant that the range was limited as was the capacity; only several dozen calls able simultaneously to be sustained.  In 1966, there was even the novelty of a Datafax, a "facsimile machine" (later to become the ubiquitous "fax") able to send or receive a US Letter-sized (slightly smaller than A4) page of text in six minutes.  That sounds unimpressive in 2023 (or compared even with the 14.4 kbit/s for Group 3 FaxStream services of the 1990s) but the appropriate comparison is with the contemporary alternatives (driving, walking or using the US Mail) and six minutes would have been a considerable advance.  As it was, the tempting equipment awaited improvements in infrastructure such as the analogue networks of the 1980s and later cellular roll-outs and these technologies contributed to the extent of use which delivered the economies of scale which eventually would make possible smart phones.

The 1966 car which toured the show circuit demonstrated the concept which, in simplified form, would the next year appear on the option list but things like telephones and fax machines anticipated the future by many years (although fax machines in cars (Audi one of a handful to offer them) never became a thing).  The Dictaphone did however make the list as one of Chrysler's regular production options (RPO) in the early 1970s and the take-up rate was surprisingly high although the fad quickly passed, dealers reporting the customers saying they worked well but they "never used them".

Tuft

Tuft (pronounced tuhft)

(1) A bunch or cluster of small, usually soft and flexible parts, as feathers or hairs, attached or fixed closely together at the base and loose at the upper ends.

(2) A cluster of short, fluffy threads, used to decorate cloth, as for a bedspread, robe, bath mat, or window curtain.

(3) A cluster of cut threads, used as a decorative finish attached to the tying or holding threads of mattresses, quilts, upholstery, etc.

(4) To furnish or decorate with a tuft or tufts; to arrange in a tuft or tufts.

(5) In the upholstery trade, to draw together (a cushion or the like) by passing a thread through at regular intervals, the depressions thus produced being usually ornamented with tufts or buttons.  Tufts are not merely decorative because they secure and strengthen mattresses, quilts, cushions et al; they act to hinder the movement of the stuffing.

(6) In botany, a small clump of trees or bushes.

(7) A gold tassel on the cap once worn by titled undergraduates at English universities, one of the more blatant class identifiers if the UK’s class system; the word tuft was also applied to those entitled to wear such as tassel and from this use evolved the slang "toff".

1350-1400: From the Middle English toft & tofte (bunch of soft and flexible things fixed at the base with the upper ends loose), an alteration of earlier tuffe (which endures in the Modern English tuff), from the Old French touffe, tuffe, toffe & tofe (tuft of hair (and source of the modern French touffe)), from the Late Latin tufa (a crest on a helmet (also found in Late Greek toupha) and probably of Germanic origin (the Old High German was zopf and the Old Norse was toppr (tuft, summit).  The earlier European forms were the Old English þūf (tuft), the Old Norse þúfa (mound), the Swedish tuva (tussock; grassy hillock), from the Proto-Germanic þūbǭ (tube) & þūbaz.  It was akin to the Latin tūber (hump, swelling) and the Ancient Greek τῡ́φη (tū́phē) (cattail (used to stuff beds)).  The excrescent t (as in against) was an English addition and tuft was used as a verb from the 1530s.  In some contexts, bunch, cluster, collection, cowlick, group, knot, plumage, ruff, shock, topknot & tussock can impart a similar meaning but tuft is better for its specific purpose.  Tuft is a noun and verb, tufter is a noun and tufty an adjective.  The noun plural is tufts, the present participle tufting and the past participle tufted.

The 1550s noun tuffet (little tuft) was from the Old French touffel (the diminutive suffix -et replacing the French -el) which was a diminutive of touffe.  In English the word is obsolete except for the use in the nursery rhyme Little Miss Muffet which seems to have first appeared in print in 1805 although it (and variations) may have been circulating much earlier.

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

Little Miss Muffet in Hell.

Etymologists believe Little Miss Muffet’s tuffet was a grassy hillock or a small knoll in the ground (a variant spelling of an obsolete meaning of tuft).  The latter-day use to refer to a hassock or footstool is an example of how (usually obscure) words can acquire meanings if erroneous definitions are often repeated and come to serve some purpose.  Tuffet for example became a favorite of antique dealers who are apt to call both footstools and low seats “tuffets”, a handy practice perhaps when provenance is doubtful.

Nobleman in full dress at Cambridge (1815) with golden tuft.

The noun toff began as mid nineteenth century lower-class London slang for "a stylish dresser, a man of the smart set".  It was an alteration of tuft, which was a mid-eighteenth century English university (Oxford & Cambridge) term for students who were members of the aristocracy, a reference to the gold ornamental tassel (or tufts) worn on the academic caps (mortarboards) of undergraduates.  Throughout the “long eighteenth century” (a historian’s term which refers for the epoch running from the Glorious Revolution of 1688 to the Congress of Vienna in 1815 (the “long nineteenth” being 1815-1914 and the “long twentieth” 1914-2001 (ie 9/11))), undergraduates at both Oxford and Cambridge were differentiated into four classes: (1) noblemen, (2) gentlemen, (3) commoner-scholars (fellow-commoners at Cambridge) & (4) servitors (sometimes known at Cambridge as sizars and at Oxford as battelers).  Each of these classes of undergraduates was entitled to a different form of dress, noblemen since 1490 (further clarified in 1576) entitled to wear silk and brocaded gowns of bright colors. Such rich materials emphasized noble status, as did the costly dyes. The gowns had flap collars, Tudor bag sleeves with gold lace decorations (akin to the black lace decorations used today on Oxford gimp gowns) and a velvet round cap with a gold tassel (or tuft) was worn.  Noblemen were technically (if misleadingly) nobiles minorum gentium and included the sons of bishops, knights and baronets and, by resolution of Convocation, could include heirs of esquires.

The right to wear the golden tuft was briefly restricted to those with fathers entitled to sit in the House of Lords while those less blue-blooded were allowed only to a plain black tassel but things gradually became less exclusive until the practice was abandoned in the late nineteenth century but the transfer of sense was inevitable: wearers of golden tufts came to be known as tufts.  Those toadies or sycophants (and there were many) who were slavish followers of the tufts were tufthunters and their antics, tufthunting, such individuals and their habits quite identifiable to this day.  By the 1850s, under the influence of the cockney accent, the word had been transformed into toff (some dictionaries of slang noting toft co-existed in the 1850s but this may have been a mishearing) which endures to refer to anyone rich and powerful although the original sense was of someone apparently well-bred.

1912 Stutz Bear Cat (1912-1934); after 1913 they would be dubbed Bearcat (left) and 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost (Chassis 2BD, 40/50; 1906-1926) limousine by H.A. Hamshaw (right).

One of the fastest and most admired American cars of the early era, the Stutz Bearcat assumed such a place in popular culture, it was was claimed that should anyone die at the wheel of a Stutz Bearcat, they were granted an obituary in the New York Times (NYT).  Wholly apocryphal, the origin of the romantic myth is thought to be related to the Bearcat being a symbol of wealth, adventure, and daring, owned by the sort of chaps (such a lifestyle at the time was most associated with men although women adventurers were not unknown) who would likely anyway warrant an NYT obituary.  The Bear Cat's tufted leather upholstery was typical (though not universal) of the high priced automobiles of the time although already, elaborate fabrics were appearing in vehicles with enclosed passenger compartments which afforded protection from the elements.  The appointments of 1915 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost were opulent even by the coachbuilding standards of the day (the Edwardian traditions still maintained) but the chauffeur's compartment lacked a roof (the body style really a Sedanca de Ville as were many of the early English "limousines") so was still trimmed in tufted leather.  The more sheltered passengers enjoyed carved ivory door handles, beveled glass windows, cut crystal lamps, an inlaid wood folding table, two jump seats, and door pockets, communications to the chauffeur via a tubular intercom.  The lavish upholstery in the rear was tufted, beige West-of-England cloth with embroidered silk window pulls and trim-work, including rear compartment shades and sliding divider although what usually attracts most comment is the elegant, pleated, cloth rosette headliner with its cloudlike billows.   To make journeys more pleasant, a set of leather-wrapped flasks was mounted in the right rear armrest.      

1972 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight Regency advertising.

Tufted leather upholstery was common in early automobiles, the seating often exactly the same as those used in horse-drawn carriages, houses or commercial buildings (and certainly gentlemen's clubs).  The practice faded as production volumes increased and as early as the late 1920s was coming to be restricted to only the most expensive models.  This exclusivity tended to prevail until 1972 when Oldsmobile introduced the Regency option for its full-sized Ninety-Eight (sometimes as "98") models, a package, the visual highlight of which was tufted "loose-pillow" velour upholstery (although unlike the use in furniture where the "pillows" were detachable for cleaning, in the Ninety-Eight they were fixed permanently to the seats.  Suddenly, solidly middle-class Oldsmobile (right in the middle of General Motors’ (GM) five-step (Chevrolet-Pontiac-Oldsmobile-Buick-Cadillac) hierarchy; the so-called "Slone ladder" designed to both facilitate and encourage "upward automotive mobility" conceived by Alfred P Sloan (1875–1966;  president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946)) had brought both velour and loose-pillow seating to the masses.  The velour was at the time admired by most buyers (though derided by some critics of design) and as tufted upholstery began to proliferate in the industry it was usually offered as a cheaper alternative to leather.  In some climates the velour was probably the better choice and was welcomingly comfortable although in some of the more strident shades of red could recall the popular idea of how a bordello might be furnished.  Presumably, those who'd never enjoyed a visit to a bordello were more disconcerted than regular customers.

1974 Imperial LeBaron four-door hardtop (left) in chestnut tufted leather though not actually “fine 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.

1974 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman.

Oldsmobile's move was as audacious and influential as Ford’s introduction in 1965 of the up-market LTD which, like the Regency package, had the effect of cannibalizing sales from other divisions within the same corporation.  Cadillac, although with a range priced considerably above Oldsmobile, offered nothing with such an ostentatious interior though when it did in 1974 respond with its Talisman package (1974-1976), it made sure it did so with more tufted extravagance still, in 1974 offering leather as well as velour.  The trend the Regency package started would last over twenty years and is remembered especially for the tufted fittings used in Imperials, Chryslers and Dodges, the hides used in the Cordoba range (1975-1983) said to be "fine Corinthian leather", an advertising agency creation which meant nothing in particular but sounded vaguely European and therefore expensive.  Cadillac called the fabric in the Fleetwood Talisman "Medici crushed velour" which had about the same relationship to historic truth as "fine Corinthian leather" but the package sold well over the three seasons it was offered, despite the option costing almost as much (and the leather significantly more) as some new cars.  Among collectors, the holy grail is a 1974 Fleetwood Talisman trimmed in blue leather; although it was on the option list, none has ever been sighted and the factory's records don't breakdown production between the blue and the alternative "medium saddle" (a medium tan), some of which have been verified.

1985 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz (left), 1977 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham (centre) and 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham d' Elegance (right).  Color choice made a big difference to the perception of the "tufted look", more subdued hues like green and blue less confronting than the "bordello red" which became emblematic of the industry's phase.

Lindsay Lohan in bed with tufted bedhead.  Critics of interior design tend not to approve of padded or tufted headboards and the shinier or more pillowy the effect, the greater will be the disparagement.  Such critics probably tend to prefer a minimalist aesthetic and condemn anything which doesn’t conform as outdated, excessive or just in poor taste but that aside, there are practical reasons to avoid the padding because the material can over time collect dust, dirt, and oils, something of concern to allergy sufferers.  The designs can also provide hiding places for the dreaded bed bugs.  Still, there are some who like the “generic luxury hotel room” look and argue they’re a kind of safety feature, banging one’s head on some tufted padding a less troubling event than an impact with one of Ikea’s hard, flat surfaces.  Like any bed, there are advantages and drawbacks, some thing made more comfortable, some close to impossible.