Showing posts with label Charles M. Russell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles M. Russell. Show all posts

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Wild West Words: Food and Drink




Round Up on the Musselshell, Charles M. Russell, 1919
The last three decades of the 19th Century — 1870 to 1900 — compose the period most people think of when they hear the term “Wild West.” Prior to the Civil War, westward expansion in the U.S. was a pioneering movement, and the period around the turn of the 20th Century was dominated by the Industrial Revolution. But in a scant thirty years, the American cowboy raised enough hell to leave a permanent mark on history.

Cowboys also left a permanent mark on American English. A whole lexicon of new words and phrases entered the language. Some were borrowed from other cultures. Others embodied inventive new uses for words that once meant something else. Still others slid into the vernacular sideways from Lord only knows where.

One of the best ways to imbue a western with a sense of authenticity is to toss in a few bits of period-appropriate jargon or dialect. That’s more difficult than one might imagine. I’m constantly surprised to discover words and phrases are either much younger or much older than I expected. Sometimes the stories behind the terms are even better than the terms themselves.

I keep an ever-expanding cowboy-to-English dictionary on my website — mostly so I know where to look when I need a word or phrase, but also because others sometimes find the material amusing or helpful. Below are a few of the entries related to food and drink.


Camp Cook's Troubles, Charles M. Russell
Ball: a shot of liquor. Originated in the American West c. 1821; most commonly heard in the phrase “a beer and a ball,” used in saloons to order a beer and a shot of whiskey. “Ball of fire” meant a glass of brandy.

Barrel: cheap saloon, often with a brothel attached. American English; arose c. 1875 as a reference to the barrels of beer or booze typically stacked along the walls.

Bear sign: donuts. Origin obscure, but the word was common on trail drives. Any chuckwagon cook who could — and would — make bear sign was a keeper.

Bend an elbow: have a drink.

Benzene: cheap liquor, so called because it set a man’s innards on fire from his gullet to his gut.

Bottom of the barrel: of very low quality. Cicero is credited with coining the phrase, which he used as a metaphor comparing the basest elements of Roman society to the sediment left by wine.

Budge: liquor. Origin unknown, but in common use by the latter half of the 1800s. A related term, budgy, meant drunk.

Cantina: barroom or saloon. Texas and southwestern U.S. dialect from 1892; borrowed from Spanish canteen.

Chuck: food. Arose 1840-50 in the American West; antecedents uncertain.

Dead soldier: empty liquor bottle. Although the term first appeared in print in 1913, common usage is much older. Both “dead man” and “dead marine” were recorded in the context before 1892. All of the phrases most likely arose as a pun: “the spirits have departed.”

Laugh Kills Lonesome, Charles M. Russell
Dive: disreputable bar. American English c. 1871, probably as a figurative and literal reference to the location of the worst: beneath more reputable, mainstream establishments.

Goobers or goober peas: peanuts. American English c. 1833, likely of African origin.

Grub up: eat. The word “grub” became slang for food in the 1650s, possibly as a reference to birds eating grubs or perhaps as a rhyme for “bub,” which was slang for drink during the period. 19th Century American cowboys added “up” to any number of slang nouns and verbs to create corresponding vernacular terms (i.e., “heeled up” meant armed, c. 1866 from the 1560s usage of “heel” to mean attaching spurs to a gamecock’s feet).

Gun wadding: white bread. Origin unknown, although visual similarity is likely.

Jigger: 1.5-ounce shot glass; also, the volume of liquor itself. American English, 1836, from the earlier (1824) use of jigger to mean an illicit distillery. Origin unknown, but may be an alteration of “chigger” (c. 1756), a tiny mite or flea.

Kerosene: cheap liquor. (See benzene.)

Mescal: a member of the agave family found in the deserts of Mexico and the southwestern U.S., as well as an intoxicating liquor fermented from its juice. The word migrated to English from Aztec via Mexican Spanish before 1828. From 1885, mescal also referred to the peyote cactus found in northern Mexico and southern Texas. Dried disks containing psychoactive ingredients, often used in Native American spiritual rituals, were called “mescal buttons.”

Mexican strawberries: dried beans.

Red-eye: inferior whiskey. American slang; arose c. 1819, most likely as a reference to the physical appearance of people who drank the stuff. The meaning “overnight commercial airline flight that arrives early in the morning” arose 1965-70.

The Herd Quitter, Charles M. Russell
Roostered: drunk, apparently from an over-imbiber’s tendency to get his tail feathers in an uproar over little to nothing, much like a male chicken guarding a henhouse. The word “rooster” is an Americanism from 1772, derived from “roost cock.” Colonial Puritans took offense when “cock” became vulgar slang for a part of the human male anatomy, so they shortened the phrase.

Sop: gravy. Another trail-drive word, probably carried over from Old English “sopp,” or bread soaked in liquid. Among cowboys, using the word “gravy” marked the speaker as a tenderfoot.

Stodgy: of a thick, semi-solid consistency; primarily applied to food. Arose c. 1823-1825 from stodge (“to stuff,” 1670s). The noun form, meaning “dull or heavy,” arose c. 1874.

Tiswin (also tizwin): a fermented beverage made by the Apache. The original term probably was Aztecan for “pounding heart,” filtered through Spanish before entering American English c. 1875-80.

Tonsil varnish: whiskey

Tornado juice: whiskey

 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

A Cowboy's Christmas Dream


    

Charles M. Russell, the "Cowboy Artist," loved Christmas and painted several pictures for the season. Although he spent winters in California in his later years, memories of Christmases on the western prairies stuck with him.

Winter was hard and often lonely for cowboys. Weather conditions made their work doubly difficult, and often a couple of cowhands spent months together in a line shack on the far reaches of the ranch, guarding their employer's cattle. Their winter horses had to be sturdy enough to support not only the rider but, at times, a half-frozen calf.

In the painting below, two cowboys pay a visit to a pair of lonely line riders, bearing a Christmas gift -- a freshly killed pronghorn. The near rider wears a western coat lined with wool fleece and heavy chaps to ward off the cold. Wolf skins stretched on the cabin walls, no doubt taken from recent predators, help insulate the rough abode. Steam from the horses' nostrils shows just how cold it was outside.

Christmas at the Line Camp. 1904, Charles M. Russell

Russell wrote the following poem in 1917. The misspellings (colloquialisms?) are his, not mine.
 
 
Last night I drifted back in dreams

To childhood’s stamping ground

I’m in my little bed, it seems,

The old folks whispering ‘round.

My sox is hung; Maw’s tucked me in;

It’s Christmas eve you see.

I’ve said my prayers, blessed all my kin,

I’m good as good kin be.

But suddenly I’m wakened wide,

From out this youthful dream.

By jingling bells that’s just outside

Hung on some restless team.

Reminded by rheumatic shin,

And lumbagoed back that’s sore,

Whiskered face, hair that’s thin,

I ain’t no kid no more.

And getting my boots I open the door,

And I’m sure surprised to see,

An old time freighter I knowed before,

But Its years since he called on me.

He’s an undersized skinner,

Good natured and stout,

With a team like himself,

All Small.

It’s the same old cuss

Maw tells me about,

Just old Santy Claus, reindeers and all.

He’s aholding his ribbons like an old timer would

When he nods his head to me,

“I wish you’d put me right if you could,

I’m way off the trail,” says he,

“I follow the trail of the stork – it’s strange,

Me missing his track”, says he,

“But I’m guessing that bird

Never touched this range,

For there’s no sign of youngsters I see.

You bachelors have a joyful way

When and wherever you’re found

Forth of July, or Paddy’s day

A-passing the drinks around.

But to get the joy that Christmas brings,

You must be acquainted with three,

A homes but a camp without these things,

A wife, the stork, and me.”

And then my bunk pal gives me a shake,

And growls in a cranky way,

“You’ve got all the bedding,

I’m cold as a snake.

I wonder what day is today.



Now here's an excerpt from Dashing Druid, in which Tye Devlin comes to town for supplies after a long winter stretch in a line shack with another cowboy.


Tye dismounted and wound his reins around a hitching post outside the general store, near a buckboard awaiting its owner. He’d volunteered to ride into Clifton and pick up supplies for the line shack he shared with a colored cowboy named Dewey Sherman. The trip was a welcome break from the winter tedium. Riding the border along their section of the ranch, to stop cattle from straying and drive off predators, was a cold, lonely job.

David had stationed him as far from the Double C as possible to keep him away from Lil – to prevent trouble with her father, Tye both understood and resented – but she was never far from his thoughts. He’d foolishly hoped this change of pace might take his mind off her for a short while. So far it hadn’t worked.

Two months had passed since the social in Meridian, yet he couldn’t stop picturing her in that tantalizing red dress, with her beautiful dark hair rippling down her back. He also couldn’t forget the way she’d gazed up at him when she was in his arms, and how feeling her excitement had made his blood pound. He still thought himself unworthy of her, but that didn’t stop him from longing to hold her and kiss her again. As always, he became half aroused at the mere thought.

Unbuttoning his jacket, he resettled his gun belt and told himself he’d simply gone far too long without a woman. While in town, he ought to stop by the saloon and take one of the birds of paradise upstairs for a while, but alas, the idea soured the instant it crossed his mind. He wanted Lil, no other.

Impatient with his unruly thoughts, he stepped up onto the boardwalk and crossed to the store entrance. He was about to open the door when it swung inward and an overloaded customer plowed into him. A feminine cry of alarm rang out as tinned goods and paper-wrapped parcels toppled from a crate the woman carried.

Tye grunted in reaction. Then, to his astonishment, he found himself face to face with the object of his pent up desires. Lil stared back at him, lips parted and brown eyes wide with shock.

“Careful,” he said belatedly, reaching out to stabilize the wobbling crate. Despite the gloves he wore when he touched her hands, her agitated emotions slipped past his mental barriers with ease, as always. Amid that confused mix of surprise and alarm, he detected a thread of gladness. An answering rush of pleasure swept through him. He longed madly to kiss her.

Dashing Druid for Kindle
Dashing Druid in print
 
Merry Christmas!