Groovy

Groovy (pronounced groo-vee)

(1) Of, pertaining to, or having grooves.

(2) Set in one's ways (obsolete).

(3) Cool, neat, interesting, fashionable, highly stimulating or attractive; excellent. (used in the 1940s and then more frequently in the 1960s and 1970s; now dated but often used ironically).

(4) Inclined to follow a fixed routine (obsolete).

(5) A programming language for the Java Virtual Machine (JVM), now under the auspices of the Apache Software Foundation.

1853:  The construct was groove + -y.  Groove was from the Middle English grov, grove, groof & grofe (cave; pit; mining shaft), from the Old English grōf (trench, furrow, something dug), from the Proto-Germanic grōbō (groove, furrow”, from the primitive Indo-European ghrebh- (to dig, scrape, bury).  It was cognate with the Dutch groef & groeve (groove; pit, grave), the German Grube (ditch, pit), the Norwegian grov (brook, riverbed) & the Serbo-Croatian grèbati (scratch, dig).  The earlier form in Old English was grafan (to dig) and from here there’s a lineal descent to groove and, at some point, a fork led to “grave”.  The –y suffix was from the Middle English –y & -i, from the Old English -iġ (-y, & -ic”, suffix), from the Proto-Germanic -īgaz (-y, -ic), from the primitive Indo-European -kos, -ikos & -iḱos (-y, -ic).  It was cognate with the Scots -ie (-y), the West Frisian -ich (-y), the Dutch -ig (-y), the Low German -ig (-y), the German -ig (-y), the Swedish -ig (-y), the Latin -icus (-y, -ic) and the Ancient Greek -ικός (-ikós); doublet of -ic. 

Groovy was first noted in 1853 in the metal working trades as a literal descriptor of the surface texture of metals and evolved into the general sense of “of or pertaining to a groove” and oral (either a dialectic form or specific to metal working) use may pre-date 1853.   One colloquial figurative sense was "having a tendency to routine, inclined to a specialized and narrow way of life or thought", attested from 1882 and linked to the idea of a grove being “something permanent, static and unchanging”.  That sense died out and the next figurative use was entirely different.  The alternative spelling groovey is achingly rare.  Groovy is a noun and adjective, grooviness is a noun and groovier & grooviest are adjectives; the noun plural is groovies.  The reason why English never evolved to create ungroovy or nongroovy is there were already number of words adequately to convey the idea, the one most associated with the 1960s counter-culture being "square" which used to convey the quality of "someone honorable & upright".  It's possible the purloining of "square" was developed from the familiar "straightlaced" although the eighteenth century "squaretoe" was an epithet applied to disparage the "prim & proper"; this later form is though unrelated to the hippies' use of "square".

In the groove: Lindsay Lohan DJing with former special friend, DJ Samantha Ronson.

The slang sense in the context of jazz music is from circa 1926 and was used by musicians to convey a professional compliment: "performing well (without grandstanding)”.  This seems to have migrated to adopt its modern sense to describe something wonderful in the late 1930s although it even then tended to be confined to the young and, outside of parts of some US cities, doesn’t appear to have enjoyed wide use.  It became widely popular in 1960s youth culture which spread world-wide, including beyond the English-speaking word.  Despite falling from favor after hippiedom passed its peak, it’s never actually gone extinct and occasional spikes are noted, triggered usually by some use in pop-culture.  Generally though, it’s been out of currency since the 1970s although still used ironically.

Groovy.  1970 Plymouth Hemi Cuda with Mod Top.  This is the only Hemi Cuda with the Mod Top option.

The psychedelic Mod Top was a Plymouth factory option in 1969-1970.  Ordered mostly in yellow, the flower power themed material was supplied by the plastics division of Stauffer Corporation, chosen for their expertise in the manufacture of durable, brightly patterned tablecloths and shower curtains.  The company, dating from 1907, remains in family ownership and still operates but it’s not known if it's one of the Stauffer families which are branches of the Staufer Dynasty (known also as the Hohenstaufen) which provided a number of medieval German kings who were crowned also as Holy Roman Emperors.

In the curious way Chrysler allowed its divisions to operate in the era, Dodge, Plymouth’s corporate stable-mate, offered a similar option called the Floral Top, the material for which was supplied by another company.  The companion to the Mod Top roof was matching vinyl paisley upholstery and floor mats which could be mixed and matched, some cars built with one but not the other although, despite it being possible, no convertible buyers (who by definition couldn’t tick the vinyl roof box) opted for the hippie interior.  Technically, Stauffer used exactly the same design technique they used when applying flowers to tablecloths and shower curtains: endlessly repetitive patterns which repeat every 3-4 feet (900 mm-1.2 m), the same model used with most fake surfaces which emulate granite, marble, timber etc.

Few finds attract collectors like factory one-offs, genuine rarities produced by a manufacturer despite officially not being available in that configuration.  The 503 1969 Dodge Daytonas, made only because NASCAR’s homologation rules demanded 500 be built to make the aerodynamic modifications eligible for competition, have long been sought-after, trading these days well into six figures.  It does seem Dodge may have made one with the Floral Top, despite it not being a Daytona option although the evidence for it being a genuine factory product is undocumented, based instead on oral testimony.  Many experts do seem convinced and, during the era, such unicorns were far from uncommon.

Plymouth Mod Top: The yellow / green / black floral vinyl was available on the 1969 and 1970 Plymouth Barracuda and Cuda (not Gran Coupé).  The fender tag codes were V1P (roof) and F6J or F6P (interior trim).

Plymouth Mod Top: The blue / green floral vinyl was available on the 1969 Plymouth Satellite and the 1970 Barracuda and Cuda (not Gran Coupé).  The fender tag codes were V1Q (roof) and F2Q (interior trim).  

Dodge Floral Top: The green /gold / lite- blue floral vinyl was available on the 1969 Dodge Dart, Coronet and Super Bee.  The fender tag code was V1H (Roof).  Dodge didn't offer the interior trim option. 

It’s not known how many survive, many a vinyl roof being removed or replaced with a solid color after the hippie vibe became unfashionable but some with the option have become collectables and reproduction vinyl is now available for those wanting the vibe back; the closer to the original condition a car can be rendered, the higher the value.  The nature of the unfortunate accessory is such that it’s never going to influence the price to the extent a rare or desirable engine or transmission might but, for the originality (or at least the replication) police, these things are an end in themselves.  Available in yellow or blue and with matching interior trim, 2792 freaks ordered these in 1969 but by 1970, only 84 repeated the mistake.  Altmont prevailed over Woodstock; the 1960s were over.

There however the patterned roof didn't die although the grooviness did.  Despite it being the intermediate-sized Satellite which in 1969 which attracted the most mod-toppers, Plymouth the next year restricted availability to the pony cars and demand proved embarrassingly modest.  Not discouraged, the factory in mid-year offered a somewhat subdued variation on their full-sized line, the Fury, a flourish perhaps surprising given the evolution of the market segment.  Until the 1960 model year, the “big three” (General Motors (GM), Ford & Chrysler) had each produced essentially one mainstream line, low-volume specialties such as the Thunderbird and Corvette just lucrative niche players.  Beginning in the 1960 model-year, that would change, increasing prosperity encouraging and the growing success of smaller imports compelling Detroit’s big three to introduce first compact, then intermediate and later sub-compact ranges, what came to be called the full-sized cars having grown just too big, heavy and thirsty for many.

The market spoke and the full-sized ranges, while remaining big sellers, gradually abandoned the high-performance versions which had once been the flagships, the smaller, lighter intermediates, pony cars and even the compacts much more convincing in the role.  By 1970, the big cars ran a gamut from stripper taxi-cabs to elaborately fitted-out luxury cars (which grew so big they cam later to be called "land yachts") but attempts to maintain a full-sized finger in the sporty pie was nearly over.  By 1970, only Ford still had a four-speed manual gearbox on the option list for the big XL and Chrysler, although the lusty triple-carburetor 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 could be had in some Fury models, it was available only with the TorqueFlite automatic.  All GM’s big stuff were now definitely heavy cruisers.

But Plymouth clearly believed the Fury still offered some scope in other stylistic directions; it was after all a big canvas.  Mid-way through the year, quietly slipped into the range was the "Gran Coupe", based on the Fury II two-door sedan but bundled with a number of otherwise extra-cost options including air conditioning and some much admired concealed headlights.  What was most obvious however, was the paisley theme, a patterned vinyl roof with matching upholstery, most Gran Coupes finished in a newly created copper tone paint although other colors were available.

1970 Rover P5B 3.5 Coupé.

The Gran Coupe was retained for 1971 but the coachwork was the more elegant pillarless hardtop in both two and four-door models, the latter still known as a coupe, attracting some criticism from pedants but in the UK Rover had offered a four-door “coupé” for a decade although, Rover at least cut down the P5’s roof-line a little, a nod to the history of the word coupé (from the French coupé, an elliptical form of carosse coupé (cut carriage), past participle of couper (to cut)).  Shameless, Plymouth ignored the etymology and invented the un-cut coupe, clearly believing gluing on some Paisley vinyl vested sufficient distinction.  The factory also imposed some restraint on buyers: although the Gran Coupe was available in a variety of colors, only if the standard interior trim (tan) was chosen would the Paisley patterned upholstery be available and, befitting the likely ownership of the big machines, the vinyl roof was inconspicuously dark rather than the swirling psychedelia of the groovy Mod Top’s swirls.  It was for years the end for any exuberance in the full-sized lines.  Ford dropped the manual gearbox option after 1970 and Chevrolet had already removed the SS option for the Impala; big engines would remain, indeed, they would grow larger but power would drop, the full-sized lines of both now hunting those wanting cut-price Lincolns and Cadillacs.  Plymouth had already abandoned the Mod Top after a lackluster 1970 and the more dour Paisley vinyl lasted only another year, consigned to history with the triple-carburetor 440.  Happily, decades later, big-power engines would make a comeback but fortunately, the Paisley vinyl roof remained forgotten.

"Rich Burgundy", before & after UV exposure.

Chrysler's use of the term "paisley" was actually a bit misleading; only some of the groovy vinyl was a true paisley but the marketing people liked it so applied it liberally, even to fabric with big yellow sunflowers.  Customers didn't however share the enthusiasm felt by the sales department and by mid-1970, Chrysler realized they had a lot of bolts of un-wanted "paisley" vinyl in the warehouse; this was some time before just-in-time (JIT) supply chains.  The inspired suggestion was to dye the vinyl a dark purple and offer it only with the "Sparkling Burgundy Metallic" paint which was exclusive to the Imperial line, the theory being the same as used with hair-dyes: dark can always cover light.  Some (quick) tests suggested this was true and in September, the 1971 models began to be shipped to the dealers, some of which were parked outside... in direct sunlight.  Almost immediately, the "rich" burgundy vinyl began to fade.  Chrysler replaced the tops with either black or white vinyl and this time the "paisley" option was killed for good.  A handful were actually sold with the purple fabric still attached, later to fade, at which point most owners took up the offer for the white or black re-cover, depending on the interior trim chosen.  Few burgundy examples survive although at least one which has spent the last fifty years protected from the ultra-violet still exists as it left the factory.

Album

Album (pronounced al-buhm)

(1) A bound or loose-leaf book consisting of blank pages, pockets, envelopes etc, for storing or displaying photographs, stamps, or the like, or for collecting autographs.

(2) A digital collection of photographs, stored on a computer or mobile device for viewing, displaying, or sharing.

(3) A record or set of records containing several musical selections, a complete play or opera etc.

(4) The package or container for such a record or records:

(5) A collection of audio recordings released together as a collected work:

(6) A printed book containing an anthology of writings, reproductions of photographs or artwork, musical compositions etc.

(7) In Ancient Rome, a white tablet or register on which the praetor's edicts and other public notices were recorded.

1645–1655: From the late Middle English albo (souvenir book), from the Classical Latin album (a board calked or painted white, onto which was inscribed in black, certain public notices, most notably the Annales Maximi, compiled by the Pontifex Maximus, high priest of the Collegium Pontificum (College of Pontiffs) which listed the year’s most significant events and appointments).  In Latin, the literal meaning of album was "white in color; whiteness", a noun use of the neuter of the adjective albus (white).

Album of Frederick Handel's (1685-1759) Messiah (1741) on 18 x 78 rpm shellac records; Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, under Sir Thomas Beecham (1879-1961), RCA Victor, 1947. 

The word was revived in Prussia circa 1645 by German scholars whose custom was to keep an album (amicorum) of colleagues' signatures, the meaning later expanded to include "book with blank leaves meant to collect signatures and other souvenirs" and according the entry in Samuel Johnson’s (1709-1784) A Dictionary of the English Language (1755), the album was "…a book in which foreigners have long been accustomed to insert autographs of celebrated people."  Photographic albums (in which people mounted photographs) were first advertised in 1859 and in 1882, the publisher Stanley Gibbons added to their catalogue the “stamp album” to meet the demand from the increasingly popular (and sometime profitable) hobby of philately.  The word became the popular descriptor of the (twelve-inch (300 mm)) 33⅓ rpm LP (long-playing) record in the 1950s although the term had earlier been used of (what would later be known as “boxed sets”) the bundled collections of 78 rpm records which, for certain recordings, demanded dozens of disks.  The use of “album” was an allusion to the resemblance of the paper sleeves, in which the shellac (and later polyvinyl chloride (PVC and usually called “vinyl”)) disks were stored, to the pages of autograph or stamp albums.

Lindsay Lohan's discography: Speak (Casablanca, 2005) & A Little More Personal (Raw) (Casablanca, 2005).

The Grateful Dead, Anthem of the Sun (1968).

The twelve-inch vinyl LP was an ideal format for commercial music distributors because it allowed 40-50 minutes of product to be packaged on the one disk, thereby permitting even long opera performances to be released as an album which required usually no more than 3-4 disks.  In popular music, the 50 minute limit (which technology did later permit to be extended to about an hour) was perfect and there many releases which barely troubled the lower end of the limit, format allowing acts to release several albums a year, each with perhaps a dozen songs (“tracks” as they came to be called).  This corresponded well with both creative output and the occasional release of a live performance and when required, double albums could be recorded and by the 1970s, there were even some triple and quadruple-disk albums.

The Incredible String Band, The 5000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion (1967).

The eight-track cartridge and the much more successful cassette tape proved handy as portable media but operated less as a competitor than an adjunct to the vinyl product and it wasn’t until the compact disc (CD) gained critical mass in the mid-1980s that the 12 inch format came to be supplanted.  The CD was another format which proved ideal for the industry, particularly during the first decade-odd of its existence when the duplication hardware was for most (unlike cassette decks which were bundled with mainstream (3-in-1) stereo systems), prohibitively expensive.  The CD didn’t add greatly to the duration available for recording but the sound quality was superior (some vinyl audiophiles still dispute that), unit production and distribution costs were lower and windfall profits were raked in as the early CDs were sold at high prices and many consumers actually duplicated at least some of their vinyl collection as well as buying new releases.  Thus the “album age” lasted until displaced by the digital era which made possible the consumer’s (probably long-standing) preference to purchase the individual tracks they prefer.

Iron Butterfly, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (1968).

Until largely displaced by the smaller CD, the twelve inch album sleeve existed as a form of pop-art which attracted its own school of criticism.  Between the mid-1960s and late 1980s, small industries arose to create the artwork and there was even a niche in specialist publishing which produced compilations, the more psychedelic efforts especially popular and the “gatefold covers” used for the double and triple albums even permitted a wider vista; the results sometimes good, sometimes not.  The so-called “concept album” appeared to have had little effect on the album cover artwork which is surprising given it was such an obvious way to encapsulate a “concept”.  However, the definition of the “concept album” was always vague and while there were plenty with some discernible theme, it could with others be difficult to work out just what the “concept” was supposed to be.  Still, it was a word which suggested ambitions beyond a collection of three-minute singles and in the 1960s there was a growing industry of earnest critics, anxious to find meanings and ready to fill in the gap if none was immediately obvious.  Sometimes they would write as if influenced by TS Elliot, sometimes they'd just gush and if the idea had been delayed a generation, they would probably have called them "paradigm albums".     

There were great moments in album covers but, unfortunately, the memorable cover for Svetlana Gruebbersolvik's My Lips are for Blowing was a fake.  Beginning in the 1960s, the album cover with its standardized 12 x 12 inch (300 x 300 mm) format became a sub-genre of pop-art, the movement lasting until the smaller media of the CD rendered the packaging obsolete.  The twelve inch format has enjoyed something of a twenty-first century revival but the volumes are too low to support the scale of graphic-art industry which once flourished. 

Undertaker

Undertaker (pronounced uhn-der-tey-ker)

(1) A person whose profession is the preparation of the dead for burial or cremation and the management of funerals (like embalmer, now mostly a historic reference, the preferred modern terms being funeral director or mortician)

(2) A person receiving land in Ireland during the Elizabethan era, so named because they gave an undertaking to abide by several conditions regarding marriage, to be loyal to the crown, and to use English as their spoken language (obsolete, now used only for historic references).

(3) A contractor for the royal revenue in England, one of those who undertook to manage the House of Commons for the king in the Addled Parliament of 1614 (obsolete, now used only for historic references).

(4) A person who undertakes something (became rare because of the likelihood of confusion with funeral directors but "undertake", "undertaking" and "undertaken" now common).  Historically, the word was associated in Middle and early Modern English with those running businesses but as the association with embalming and burials became pervasive, it came to be replaced with the French entrepreneur.

1350–1400: A compound word under- + -take- + -er, a back-formation from the earlier undertake (after undernim (from the Middle English undernimen, from the Old English underniman (to take in, receive, comprehend, understand, blame, be indignant at, take upon oneself, steal), the construct being under- +‎ nim.  It was cognate with the Dutch ondernemen (to undertake, attempt) and the German unternehmen (to undertake, attempt).  Under is from the Middle English under-, from the Old English under-, from the Proto-Germanic under, from the primitive Indo-European n̥dhér (lower) and n̥tér (inside).

Take is from the Middle English taken (to take, lay hold of, grasp, strike), from the Old English tacan (to grasp, touch), of North Germanic origin, from the Old Norse taka (to touch, take), from the Proto-Germanic tēkaną (to touch), from the primitive Indo-European dehig- (to touch).  Gradually, it displaced the Middle English nimen (to take), from the Old English niman (to take).  It was cognate with the Icelandic and Norwegian Nynorsk taka (to take), the Norwegian Bokmål ta (to take), the Swedish ta (to take), the Danish tage (to take, seize), the Middle Dutch taken (to grasp), the Dutch taken (to take; grasp) and the Middle Low German tacken (to grasp); tackle is related.

The –er suffix was added to verbs to create a person or thing that does an action indicated by the root verb; used to form an agent noun.  It added to a noun it denoted an occupation.  The suffix is from the Middle English -er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, a borrowing from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought to have been borrowed from Latin -ārius and reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French -or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant of which was -our), from the Latin -(ā)tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.

Mercedes-Benz 600 Hearse

In English, undertaker was an agent noun from the verb undertake, the early meaning, strictly speaking, "a contractor of any sort hired to perform some task" but it was applied mostly to those engaged is some sort of commercial enterprise.  There had long been instances of the use of “funeral-undertaker” but by the 1690s, “undertaker” had come to mean almost exclusively those whose profession was to “embalm and bury”.  Most etymologists conclude this organic shift to linguistic exclusivity came via the word being used as a euphemism for the mechanics of the profession, matters of mortality something of a taboo topic.

Undertaker faded from use as “mortician” and “funeral director” came to be preferred, firstly in the US with the latter soon becoming the standard form in the rest of the English-speaking world.  It was at the July 1895 meeting of the Funeral Directors' Association of Kentucky that it was proclaimed “…an undertaker will no longer be known as an "undertaker and embalmer." In the future he will be known as the "mortician."  This soon spread and the term undertaker is now almost unknown except in historic references or in figurative use in fields such as politics and sport.  In general use, the words "undertake", "undertaken" or "undertaking" are now used to describe just about any activity and with no sense of a taint of association with corpses. 

In the narrow technical sense, even in modern use, the terms funeral director, mortician, and undertaker mean the same thing (a person who supervises or conducts the preparation of the dead for burial and directs or arranges funerals"  Nuances have however emerged, especially in the US where a funeral director tends to be someone who owns or operates a funeral home whereas the term mortician implies a technical role, a person who handles the body (the embalmer) in preparation for a funeral.  Often of course, these roles are combined, especially in smaller operations so for practical purposes, funeral director and mortician are generally interchangeable.  Although it would probably once have seemed a bizarre construction, there are also now funeral celebrants who officiate at ceremonies not (or only vaguely) connected with religious practice and are thus analogous to the civil celebrants who perform secular marriage ceremonies.  They're not directly connected with the school of thought which prefers to "celebrate a life" rather than "mourn a death" at a funeral, an approach which can be taken even in an overtly religious service.  

So it's largely a matter of how those within the profession prefer to style themselves and Funeral Director seems now the most popular choice although mortician remains widely used in the US.  Mirriam-Webster provides:

Funeral Director: A person whose job is to arrange and manage funerals.

Mortician: A person whose job is to prepare dead people to be buried and to arrange and manage funerals.

Undertaker: One whose business is to prepare the dead for burial and to arrange and manage funerals.

1967 Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100) hearse by German coach builders, Pollmann of Bremen.

Built on a (lengthened) 1967 short wheelbase (SWB) platform, it’s a genuine one-off, the only 600 hearse ever built.  The story (which may be true), repeated whenever it’s offered for sale, is it was originally a sedan purchased by a German farmer (always referred to as Herr K) whose particular experience of the Wirtschaftswunder (the German post-war economic miracle) was the massive capital gain he enjoyed when he sold his farmland for urban development.  Happy, he bought Mercedes-Benz 600 (in champagne metallic gold) for his wife and commissioned an architect to design a house for them to enjoy.  Unfortunately, he arrived home one day to find the ungrateful hausfrau had run off with the architect and, unable to bear to keep the 600 because it was a reminder of the strumpet’s infidelity, he returned the car to the dealer to off-load.  It was sold to the coach-builders Pollmann which converted it to a hearse which seems appropriate although it's not known if the former farmer was impressed by the symbolism of the transformation.  It was used for some years for the purpose for which it was designed and has since been restored by US-based expert in all things 600esque, Karl Middelhauve.

The Machete funeral hearse

Lindsay Lohan in habit, emerging from hearse in Machete (2010).  The Machete hearse was based on a 1987 Cadillac Brougham (1987-1992).

Between 1931-1979, General Motors' Cadillac division offered a line called the Cadillac Commercial Chassis, a long-wheelbase, heavy-duty platform which was mechanically complete but with a partially built body (without bodywork rear of the windscreen, doors and other panels included on request).  Produced on the D platform (exclusive to Cadillac), the "Commercial Chassis" was used by coach-builders to create high-roofed ambulances, hearses (often called funeral coaches in the US) and cleverly designed hybrids which at short notice could be converted from ambulances to hearses or used by a coroner's staff to transport a corpse; these multi-purpose devices were popular in towns with small populations.  The early Commercial Chassis were based on the Series 355 (1931-1935) and the Series 75 (1936-1992) from 1936 and although there were specific modification to the frame, the mechanical components were always shared with the 75 which, used for the big limousines, meant costs were amortized across the ranges.  After 1980, production continued on the downsized platform but there was no longer a separate D platform, the partially bodied cars structurally identical to the mainstream line.

1960 Mercedes-Benz 300d Cabriolet D (left) and 1960 Cadillac hearse (Funeral Carriage) on the Commercial Chassis (right).

Dating from the age of horse drawn carriages, the landau irons (which some coachbuilders insist should be called "carriage bars") on the rear side-panels of hearses emulate in style (though not function) those used on carriages and early automobiles (the last probably the Mercedes-Benz 300 (the “Adenauer”; W186 (1951-1957) & W189 (1957-1962)) Cabriolet D).  On those vehicles, the irons actually supported the folding mechanism for the fabric roof but on hearses they are merely decorative, there to relieve the slab-sidedness of the expanse of flat metal.  The alternative approach with hearses is to use a more conventional glass panel, usually with curtains fitted which can be drawn as desired.  In many cases, there is a desire to make the coffin (casket) as visible as possible because some, to permit the dead a final act of conspicuous consumption, are crafted with some extravagance.

1971 Ford Thunderbird with standard vinyl roof (left) and 1967 Ford Thunderbird with the vinyl removed (right).

There was however one curious use of a stylized iron for a purpose which was both functional and aesthetic.  When, in a sign of the times, the 1967-1971 Ford Thunderbird included a four-door sedan rather than a convertible as a companion to the coupés in the range, the sedans were fitted with the combination of the irons and a vinyl roof.  In this one, unique, case the irons and the vinyl actually improved rather than detracted from the appearance because, built on a surprisingly short wheelbase, the Thunderbird had to be fitted with rather short rear doors (also compelling the use of the front-opening "suicide door" configuration) and to accommodate the shape of C-pillar, each had to intrude on the other.  What the (always dark) vinyl and the sweep of the irons did was conceal the compromise and for that reason, this generation of Thunderbirds is probably the only car where vinyl roofs are rarely removed because exposing the metal results in a very strange look.  Because (1) they're ugly and (2) they trap moisture, thereby encouraging rust, removing a vinyl roof usually improves the appearance of a car but this is the one exception.       

Edition

Edition (pronounced ih-dish-uhn)

(1) One of a series of printings of the same publication, each issued at a different time and differing from another by alterations, additions etc (historically sometimes referred to as impressions).

(2) The format in which a work is published (single volume edition, abridged edition, leather-bound edition, French language edition etc).

(3) In newspaper production, a form of differentiation between different versions of the “same” issue (late edition, city edition etc) and used in a similar manner in radio & television broadcasting.

(4) In book collecting, as “first edition”, a copy of a book from its first release or print run.

(5) The whole number of impressions or copies of a book, newspaper etc, printed from one set of type at one time.

(6) A version of anything (physical and not), often (sometimes misleadingly) in forms such as “limited edition”, “special edition” etc).

1545–1555: From the French édition, from the Middle French, from the Latin ēditiōn- (publication), the stem of ēditiō (a bringing forth, publishing), the construct being ēdit, the past participle of ēdere (to give out; bring forth, produce) + -iōn (the suffix appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process).  When the word entered English in the sense of “version, translation, a form of a literary work” (and later “act of publishing”) the dominant linguistic influence was probably the Latin editionem (a bringing forth, producing (although in specialized use it also carried the meaning “a statement, an account rendered”, from the past-participle stem of ēdere, the construct being e(x) (in the sense of “out”) + -dere, a combining form of dare (to give), from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Edition is a noun; the noun plural is editions.

More Issues Than Vogue sweatshirt from Impressions.

In publishing and (sometimes vaguely) related fields, the terms “issue”, “edition” and “version” have come to be used so loosely that they sometimes function interchangeably but within the publishing industry, there are conventions of use: Issue traditionally was used to refer to a specific release of a recurring publication (magazine, journal, newspaper etc) and tended to be tied to the release sequence (“October 2024 Issue”, “Fall 2024 Issue”, “Issue No. 215” etc).  Issue can however be used also as “re-issue” which refers usually to a “re-print” of a previous edition although it’s not uncommon for blurbs like “re-issued with new foreword” or “re-issued in large print” to appear, the implication being the substantive content remains the same.  Edition was used of a particular form or version of a publication that might differ from previous ones in significant ways which might include text corrections, foreign language translations, or updates, thus descriptions like “German Language Edition”, “Second Edition” or “Abridged Edition.  Some editions (especially those which appear in an irregular sequence) actually give in their title some hint of the nature of what distinguishes them from what came before such as the convention adopted by the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic for their Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).  What the APA does is change the number if a DSM is regarded as a “new edition” but retain the number with an appended “R” (revised) or “TR” (text revision) if it’s an “updated edition”.  Thus has appeared the DSM-III-R (1987), the DSM-IV-TR (2000) and the DSM-5-TR (2022).  There’s some overlap in use for version and this perhaps reflects the influence of technology because it tends to be used of a specific form or variant of a publication such as language (eg Spanish version), format (eg audio version) or materials used in the construction (eg e-book version) rather than an implication of a chronological or iterative update (which in publishing tends to be called an “edition”.  In that the industry differs from IT where version numbers are almost always sequential although the convention widely used in the 1980s in which something like “version 2.4.3” could be interpreted as 2=major release, 4=update and 3= bug fix has long fallen into disuse.

Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version (RSV), 1952 limited edition, first printing by Thomas Nelson & Sons, brown full leather binding with inlaid gold lettering, silk end paper and green cardboard slip case, custom bound by the Chicago Bible Society.  US$750 from Abe Books.

There are also special uses which assume a life of their own, notably the Revised Standard Version (RSV), an English translation of the Bible published in 1952 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the US.  The RSV was a revision of the American Standard Version (ASV, 1901) and was published to render the text into the modern English which readily would be understood by a contemporary reader of modest education.  The object was not to change the meaning of the text but to preserve it and paradoxically this required editing the classic verses written by William Tyndale (circa 1494–1536) or in the King James Version (KJV, 1611) because the over hundreds of years the language had evolved and the much of what was in the original needed to be interpreted for a general audience and the controversy of clerical gatekeepers between God and his people had for centuries been a thing.  The RSV however has not been the last words and those who track novel initializms will have been delighted by the appearance of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV, released in 1989 by the National Council of Churches (NCC) and the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue), published in 2021.  Students of such things aren’t expecting the next update for at least a decade but finding a name might prove more of a challenge than editing the Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus for a modern audience although those who have worked in biblical forks have found alpha-numeric solutions such as RSV-2CE (Revised Standard Version, Second Catholic Edition (2006))

First Edition of James Joyce’s Ulysses, "Copy No 1", held in the National Library of Ireland.  It contains in Joyce's hand an inscription to the English political activist Harriet Shaw Weaver (1876–1961) who was for decades his patron.

A first edition of Ulysses (1922) by James Joyce (1882–1941) in 2009 sold on the opening day of an antiquarian book fair London for Stg£275,000, at the time a record for a twentieth century first edition.  Ulysses is regarded in the industry as the most collectable modern novel and the first editions, printed on hand-made Dutch fine-paper, are well-catalogued and this was number 45 of the first edition print run (all signed by the author) of 100, one of four not previously accounted for.  It had been sold originally by the Manhattan’s obviously subversive Sunwise Turn bookshop (Ulysses at the times banned in the US) and remained in the possession of the same family, stored in its original box and thus not exposed to light, accounting for the preservation of the construction.  Proving that dealers in literary circles can gush with the finest used car salesmen, the dealer who arranged the sale explained: “The color is amazing – this lovely Aegean Sea, Greek flag blue which would normally have darkened into a more dirty blue but because it has been in a box it is a complete thing of beauty.”  The almost pristine condition was a product also of its history of use, an inspection suggesting it was seemingly unread except for the well-thumbed final chapter where the most salacious passages can be found.  The existence of unread copies of well-known books is not unusual and those notorious for sitting neglected on the bookshelf include “challenging” texts such as A Theory of Justice (1971) by John Rawls (1921–2002), A Brief History of Time (1988) by Stephen Hawking (1942–2018) and Joyce’s own, bafflingly difficult Finnegans Wake (1939).  Intriguingly, the antiquarian book business also includes the category “pre-first edition” (any limited run copy of a book printed before the “first edition” is published).  The apparent oxymoron is explained by “first edition” being an industry definition rather than a literal description; pre-first editions thus analogous with “pre-production” or “final prototype” cars which (if they’ve survive the crusher which claims most) can be prized by collectors.

Among special editions there are, inter alia, “Collector's Editions”, “Anniversary Editions” and even, in one instance, the “So Fetch Edition”.

In commerce, “special editions” have become notable income generators for content providers and the movie business has embraced the concept with editions such as “the making of”, “bloopers & out-takes”, “director’s cut” and others and the idea isn’t new.  Led Zeppelin's eighth studio album (In Through the Out Door (1979)) originally was sold with an outer sleeve of plain brown paper, stamped with nothing more than the while the cardboard sleeve proper within was released with six different versions of the artwork.  Buyers would thus not know which sleeve they were selecting.  There’s nothing to suggest it was anything but a gimmick and neither the band nor the record company were expecting many to keep buying copies in the plain brown wrapped until they’d scored all six covers but there were press reports at the time of "Led Heads" doing exactly that.  The industry took note.

Taylor Swift's The Anthology, one of 34 available editions of The Tortured Poets Department.

The attraction of releasing multiple versions of essentially the same product with variations restricted to some added content or detail differences in the packaging is that the additional costs in production and distribution are marginal yet there’s sometimes it’s possible to charge a premium for the “non-standard editions”.  The practice had for decades been quite a thing with car manufacturers but the music business came also to like the idea because, unlike with the cars where customers tended to buy one at a time, obsessive fans of musicians might be persuaded they needed several copies of what was essentially the same thing.  Leftist UK student site The Tab noted few music fans were as obsessive as Taylor Swift’s (b 1989) Swifties and, more significantly, they were also impressively numerous and thus an irresistible catchment of disposable income.  What The TAB noted was the almost simultaneous release of a remarkable (and apparently unprecedented) of 34 versions of Ms Swift’s eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department (2024), something which as well as generating revenue has the statistical benefit of afforcing her presence on the charts, every sale counting as a 1.0.  Some were technologically deterministic in than four were released as audio cassettes and nine were exclusively digital bit most were essentially the same product except for the inclusion of a bonus track and there were some available only through the retailer Target.  The most obsessive Swifties obviously could buy all 34 editions but for those which want just an exhaustive collection of the music, it appeared all was included on the accurately named The Anthology so there was that.  One day, all 34, still (where appropriate) unopened in their original packaging will appear begin to appear on auction sites.  The approach attracted some adverse comment (which the Swifties doubtless ignored) and probably confirmed in the mind of JD Vance (b 1984; US senator (Republican-Ohio) since 2023) that childless cat ladies are evil.

All editions: The Tab’s The Tortured Poets Department discography:

1. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Manuscript
2. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Albatross
3. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Bolter
4. Collector’s Edition Deluxe with The Black Dog
5. Standard album and The Manuscript
6. Standard and The Manuscript (signed)
7. Standard and But Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
8. Standard and Guilty As Sin? (Acoustic)
9. Standard and Down Bad (Acoustic)
10. Standard and Fortnight (Acoustic)
11. Standard and Fresh Out The Slammer (Acoustic)
12. Target exclusive with The Albatross
13. Target exclusive with The Bolter
14. Target exclusive with The Black Dog
15. Target exclusive vinyl
16. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing one)
17. The Manuscript vinyl (pressing two)
18. The Albatross vinyl
19. The Bolter vinyl
20. The Black Dog vinyl
21. The Manuscript vinyl
22. The Anthology
23. Standard and The Black Dog ‘voice memo’
24. Standard album and Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me voice memo
25. Standard album and Cassandra voice memo
26. Standard album (digital)
27. Standard album and Daddy I Love Him (Acoustic)
28. Standard album and loml (live from Paris)
29. Standard album and My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys (live from Paris)
30. Standard album and The Alchemy / Treacherous mashup (live from Paris)
31. The Manuscript cassette
32. The Bolter cassette
33. The Albatross cassette
34. The Black Dog cassette

1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, Lipstick edition.  The shade of red appears to be close to Dior's lipstick #744 (Party Red).

The car manufacturers have produced at least hundreds of “special editions”, a concept to which they kept returning because it was lucrative, the things usually profitable to an extent exceeding greatly the nominal sum of their parts.  Quite how many have existed over the years is difficult to estimate because, in addition to the well-documented examples from manufacturers which were sold nationally or even globally, some were offered only briefly or regionally and barely advertised.  Additionally, dealers or sometimes an agglomeration of them would also conjure up their own "special editions" so the total of such things is probably in the thousands.  Sometimes, fashion houses were paid to lend their name, AMC teaming with Pierre Cardin, Levi Strauss (Volkswagen also had a denim-trimmed Beetle though without a specific brand attribution) & Oleg Cassini while the Lincoln Continental at times was offered with themes by Emilio Pucci, Cartier, Bill Blass and de Givenchy although the most memorable were the reputed 500 “Lipstick editions”, a study in red & white, quite a sight given the expanse of sheet metal and leather.

1969 Dodge Charger R/T SE (left), 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (centre left), 1976 Holden HX LE (centre right) and 2002 Mazda Miata Special Edition (MX-5 in some markets) (right).

In most of the “special” editions, offered over the decades, it was only in the advertising or press kits that terms like “special edition” or “limited edition” appeared.  Sometimes though, such physical badges did appear on the vehicles. In the US, on the 1969 Dodge Chargers with the SE option, the badge included both “SE” & “Special Edition” while in Australia, only “SE” appeared on the 1972 Chrysler VH Valiant Charger 770SE E55 (one of the industry’s longer model names) although the marketing material called it a “Special Edition”, a usage borrowed from the parent corporation in the US and even the badge used was the same part as that which had been stuck on the 1970 Dodge Challenger SE.  Holden’s frankly cynical (but most profitable) 1976 LE spelled out “Limited Edition” under a “LE” (in a larger font) while Mazda used only the full term for the Miata (MX-5) Special Edition models.

Limited Edition, less limited profit: The Holden LE

1976 HX Holden LE

By the mid 1970s, the market had come to prefer the cheaper, smaller and easier to use cassette tapes which meant warehouses were soon full of the once desirable 8-track players and buyers were scarce.  In Australia, GMH (General Motor Holden) by 1975 had nearly a thousand in the inventory which also bulged with 600-odd Monaro body-shells, neither of which were attracting customers; fashions change and both had become unfashionable.  Fortunately, GMH was well-acquainted with the concept of the "parts-bin special edition" whereby old, unsaleable items are bundled together and sold at what appears a discount, based for advertising purposes on a book-value retail price there’s no longer any chance of realizing.  Thus created was the high-priced, limited edition LE (which stood for "Limited Edition", the Monaro name appearing nowhere although all seem still to use the name), in metallic crimson with gold pin striping, golf "honeycomb" aluminium wheels, fake (plastic) burl walnut trim and crushed velour (polyester) upholstery; in the 1970s, this was tasteful.  Not designed for the purpose, the eight-track cartridge player crudely was bolted to the console but five-hundred and eighty LEs were made, GMH pleasantly surprised at how quickly they sold with no need to resort to discounting.  When new, they listed at Aus$11,500, a pleasingly profitable premium of some 35% above the unwanted vehicle on which it was based; these days, examples are advertised for sale for (Aus$) six-figure sums and anyone who now buys a LE does so for reasons other than specific-performance.  Although of compact size (in US terms) and fitted with a 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8, it could achieve barely 110 mph (175 km/h), acceleration was lethargic by earlier and (much) later standards yet fuel consumption was high; slow and thirsty the price to be paid for the early implementations of the emission control plumbing bolted to engines designed during more toxic times.      

1971 Holden HQ Monaro LS 350

The overwrought and bling-laden Holden HX typified the tendency during the 1970s and of US manufacturers and their colonial off-shoots to take a fundamentally elegant design and, with a heavy-handed re-style, distort it into something ugly.  A preview of the later “malaise era” (so named in the US for many reasons), it was rare for a facelift to improve the original.  The 1971 HQ Holden was admired for an austerity of line and fine detailing; what followed over three subsequent generations lacked that restraint.  The HX LE was one of a number of "special" and "limited" editions offered during the era and it remains one of the few remembered.