(no subject)
Dear Cecil:
Why does Queen Elizabeth carry a purse, and what could she possibly have in it? I took an informal poll at work and got these results:
3 people said she carried carfare.
2 people said she carried identification.
5 people said she carried makeup.
1 person said she carried nothing at all; it was like a security blanket. I hope you can help. --Jimmy Perez, Santa Barbara, California
Dear Jimmy:
Maybe I never told you this, but years ago Elizabeth and I used to double date (she loved Roller Derby). The subject of purses, unfortunately, never came up. Now, of course, she won't give me the time of day, the snob. No problem, sez I, I'll just call up the embassy in D.C., the better to save on the transatlantic tolls. You've heard about the fabled British sense of humor? It's a fraud. Total noncooperation. Look, bub, I tell this sniffy lackey, here in America we believe in freedom of information. But still no dice.
Diplomatic channels having proved unavailing, I call up Buckingham Palace (no small achievement in an era when all the phone companies hate each other). The queen continues to stonewall. A press aide tells me (and believe me, how these people can breathe with their noses at that angle I'll never know) that she carries items "of a personal nature," but not money. Pressed further, she said you'd find what you'd expect to find in a woman's purse. This being the 90s, I blanch to think what I'd expect to find in a woman's purse. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt and assume it's puppy biscuits for the corgis.
MORE ON THE ROYAL BAG ... UH, PURSE
As anyone who reads Majesty magazine knows, the Queen carries a comb, a handkerchief, a small gold compact, and a tube of lipstick in her handbag. However, you were somewhat misled by Buckingham Palace. The Queen does carry money on Sundays--a folded note of unknown denomination which she discreetly places in the collection plate.
Mr. Perez was also partially correct: Her Majesty does use her handbag as a security blanket. She carries it with her throughout the day as she moves from one room of the palace to another. She is rarely photographed without a handbag. All tables and her desk at Buckingham Palace and other royal residences are equipped with special hooks on which the Queen may hang her ubiquitous handbag. Finally, the Queen never uses a shoulderbag or clutchbag as these make shaking hands and accepting flowers awkward.
I could go on to discuss the Queen's hats, but perhaps that would be a bit much. --Elizabeth Giangrego, Chicago
Dear Straight Dope:
Why in radio parlance do they say "roger"? I've asked U.S. Air Force maintenance personnel who know everything about radio from FM to satellites but not the history of "roger." Could you please enlighten me? -shakytom
In Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace, why does the droid army, when given an order or message, say: "Roger, Roger"? -Otto Bonilla
SDSTAFF Robin replies:
Pilots and other military types say “roger” to acknowledge receipt of a message or instructions. “Roger” at one time was the phonetic designation for the letter R, which in turn stood for “received.” Why not just say "received"? From a safety perspective, it makes sense to use standardized language, particularly when dealing with international operations. An American pilot may not understand German, but they both understand aviation terminology. The International Civil Aviation Organization oversees this standardization and disseminates it accordingly.
The use of “roger” isn't all that old. In the military's phonetic alphabet, "roger" didn't become the designation for R until 1927. (Previously the designation had been "rush.") The first citation given by the Oxford English Dictionary for “roger” in the sense of "received" dates from 1941, coinciding with U.S. entry into WWII. The term made the big time in 1943, when the Army Signal Corps incorporated it into one of its procedural manuals.
In 1957 "roger" was replaced by "romeo," the current designation, but by then "roger" = "received" was so entrenched that the brass knew better than to try and change it.
As for the use of “roger, roger” in Phantom Menace, the consensus seems to be that it's a sly (OK, not that sly) reference to Airplane (1980). The co-pilot in the latter movie, played by Lakers legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, was named Roger Murdock. This was the pretext for such lines as:
Captain Oveur (Peter Graves): Roger, Roger. What's our vector, Victor?
Variations on this theme include Oveur/over and clearance/Clarence. Trust me, it's pretty funny in the movie.
As for Roger’s last name, “wilco” dates from the same time, and is simply an abbreviation of “will comply.” So the pilot who invokes our friend Roger Wilco is saying “I understand you, and will follow your instructions,” only cooler and shorter.
Dear Cecil:
Everyone is familiar with the song that goes, "There's a place in France where the naked ladies dance." What's the origin of this mysterious song and its seemingly Egyptian melody? - Martin C. Arno, via e-mail
Cecil replies:
Egyptian, you say? Not a chance. Middle Eastern at least? We can't rule it out, but the evidence is thin. Try midwestern - specifically, Chicago circa 1893. We're not sure who the composer was, but we do know the pivotal figure in drawing attention to this unforgettable tune (which, admit it, is running through your head right now). It wasn't some eunuch in a caliph's court, but rather a California impresario (and later New York congressman) named Sol Bloom.
Bloom was in charge of entertaining the rustics at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. His assignment: set up an amusement park outside the main fairgrounds as a counterpoint to the more highbrow offerings inside. Located on a tree-lined venue known as Midway Plaisance, what became known as the Midway was a huge success - the sideshow portion of state fairs and such has been called a midway ever since. Bloom contributed one of the biggest attractions himself, namely a traveling Algerian village he'd acquired the rights to that had been first shown at the Paris Exposition of 1889. The village was a hit mainly because it featured belly dancers, previously unknown in the U.S.
Wishing to see the novel art form at close hand, the Press Club of Chicago invited Bloom to bring some belly dancers over for a private showing. The young entrepreneur gladly accepted but on arriving at the club was dismayed to find the piano player at a loss for suitable music. Bloom later claimed he hummed the tune you're asking about, then picked it out on the piano. The melody caught on and, since Bloom didn't copyright it, was soon appropriated by Tin Pan Alley tunesmiths for their own compositions. Eventually it became the standard musical accompaniment for cartoon portrayals of snake charming and other exotica. (When sung with bawdy lyrics - there are several variants of uncertain provenance - it's often known as the “Hootchy-Kootchy Dance.")
Not buying Bloom's story? Here's a more plausible scenario: he swiped (or at least riffed on) a traditional melody played by the Algerians, and songwriters who later saw the show at the Midway did likewise. In his Book of World-Famous Music, James J. Fuld says the tune’s opening five notes are identical to those of "Colin Prend Sa Hotte," which appears in a French songbook from 1719. According to Fuld, a 19th-century compendium of old tunes called Echos du Temps Passé lists "Colin Prend Sa Hotte" as a dancing song and says "the first phrase of the melody resembles almost note for note an Algerian or Arabic melody known as Kradoutja [that] has been popular in France since 1600." That can't be confirmed as no printed version of “Kradoutja” is known to exist. Whatever the facts, let's give an old BSer his due: Bloom introduced the tune to America, if only by paying the fare.
Dear Cecil:
Ever since I was a kid I've heard that it's okay to use a bay leaf as seasoning in cooking but if you eat the leaf itself it's poisonous. That never made sense to me. Why would moms put deadly poisons in their cooking that might be accidentally eaten? - Chuck Devlin, Toronto, Ohio
Shrewd thinking, Chuck. You're right - bay leaves aren't poisonous. Cooks remove them before serving because they don't get soft unless you cook the bejesus out of them, and no one wants a bay leaf shard stuck between their teeth. But there are still circumstances in which you should fret.
Once woven into wreaths signifying various honors, the fragrant leaves of the bay laurel tree, Laurus nobilis, have been used in cooking and medicine for thousands of years with few ill effects. Some people can get dermatitis from picking the leaves, and I heard about some Mexican specimens being infected with bacteria that could cause intestinal distress, but overall they're about as safe as any other common kitchen herb.
What could get you into trouble is that bay leaves look much like the leaves of their less edible relatives, such as the California bay laurel (Umbellularia californica), as well as unrelated and definitely inedible shrubs and trees such as the cherry laurel (Prunus laurocerasus). The aromatic leaves of the California bay laurel have been known to cause skin rashes and probably shouldn't be cooked with, though they sometimes are. The cherry laurel is downright poisonous - its leaves contain a deadly compound of glucose and prussic acid. In 1783 an English alchemist, James Price, deliberately drank a fatal mixture prepared from cherry laurel leaves after he'd been challenged by the Royal Society to prove he had transmuted mercury into silver and gold. You want to tempt fate with fresh herbs plucked from the forest, be my guest. Otherwise stick with the version that comes in a tin.
-CECIL ADAMS