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Riverisms By Dan Gill,
Ethno-Gastronomist
I
found this sign in the debris left along the shore after hurricane Hazel in
1954. It is now nailed to a post in the store and customers will frequently
ask about its meaning. In tidewater Virginia and especially on the Eastern
Shore, gunning
refers specifically to shooting waterfowl with a shotgun from a boat or
blind. Trucking truck Also
on the wall in the store is a framed copy of a handbill that I found in a
bundle of Chancery records in the Middlesex County Courthouse while
researching the story of our farm. The handbill is from 1890 and advertises
the auction of a "valuable farm" known since the 1600's as La
Grange (now Remlik Hall, including KilmerÕs Point, Remlik Hall and Cedar
Point subdivisions.) Dr. Manus Rowan had bought La Grange from the Robinson
family of Hewick in 1821. When he died, his will was contested by his
brothers' offspring. The will was written before the War Between the States
and everything had been left to his wife, who had predeceased him, and called
for his slaves to be freed and sent back to Africa. A nephew agreed to buy
the farm but was unable to come up with the full purchase price. Subsequently
the court ordered the property to be auctioned at "his risk and
cost". The top bid was only $5000, less than the terms required. In
approving the sale, the judge said, in essence, that times are tight and
given the economic hardships of reconstruction the court had to take what it
could get. Described in the handbill as containing 850 acres, "it [La
Grange] lies on the Rappahannock River, between the Robinson and La Grange
creeks within a few hundred yards of [West] Urbanna wharf (subsequently the
site of Lord Mott cannery) where steamers touch four times a week plying
between Baltimore and the landings on the Rappahannock River. Soil good and
well adapted to the growth of all the serials [sic] and to trucks". At that
time and in context, the word trucks referred to truck crops such as tomatoes
and watermelons raised for market and usually shipped to Baltimore by
schooner or steamboat. Truck has a number of
related meanings; most are colloquial or archaic. Many things with wheels
were trucks:
Carts were called hand trucks, and to move goods on wheels was to truck
them;
a vehicle with wheels used to haul goods was called a truck and the goods
themselves were truck; a truck was also a masthead block or pulley wheel
used to hoist cargo or a flag. When I was in the Army, a popular question at
promotion hearings was: ÒSoldier, how many trucks are there on this post?Ó
ÒOne, Sir.Ó ÒWhere is it, soldier?Ó ÒOn top of the flagpole, Sir.Ó Truck also referred to
trade, dealings and barter as in truck and trade, or ÒI donÕt have
any truck with horse thievesÓ, meaning having nothing to do with and having
no dealings with horse thieves. Prior to WWII, truck farmers in the
Middle Peninsula and Northern Neck had little or no truck with the Richmond
markets because it was too difficult to truck truck in trucks over the rough
roads and across rivers. In those days it was much easier to put produce on a
boat and ship it to Baltimore. Watermelons, cantaloupes, cucumbers, corn,
tomatoes, sweet potatoes and English peas were popular truck crops and a
canning industry evolved to process them locally. Scores of canneries, on
both sides of the Rappahannock River, processed tomatoes and English peas.
Lord Mott, for example, was built on the remnants of West Urbanna Wharf after
the hurricane of Õ33 ended the steamboat era, and canned tomatoes and English
peas until the cannery was bought by CampbellÕs Soups, and then canned
oyster stew into the 1970Õs. I remember riding the school bus to Urbanna
Elementary School and passing huge, odoriferous mounds of rotting pea hulls
on Lord Mott road. The devil to pay Sailing
ships were made of wooden planks fastened to a framework of ribs with wooden
pegs. The seams between the planks were packed with cotton or oakum and
coated with hot pitch called pay to make them watertight. As the planks
moved and worked in rough seas, seams could open, lose their caulking and
place the ship in jeopardy of sinking. The most critical seam in a planked
vessel is known as the devil seam, which is right at or below the
waterline at the turn of the bilge where the sides and bottom join. This is
the area of maximum curvature that must absorb much of the stress and
movement and is the most likely seam to fail in heavy seas. If near land, a
ship could be beached and careened on her side for the bottom seams to be
caulked, but if at sea, the leaks had to be stopped while under way. The ship
was heeled over as far as possible and a sailor, equipped with a mallet,
caulking iron, oakum and hot pitch, was lowered over the side in a bosunÕs
chair to pay
the seams – a risky business in rough waters. If the wind slacked or
changed direction, the vessel could right and the sailor would find himself between
the devil and the deep blue sea. I like this version of the story, but was
informed by a Naval Architect that it is highly unlikely, if not physically
impossible, for period sailing ships to be heeled over far enough to pay
the devil
from the outside while at sea and that the term probably evolved because
paying seams, even from the inside, was an unpleasant and arduous task.
Now-a-days the term implies having to face or deal with dire consequences,
usually the result of ones own actions. To pay the devil also implies
urgency lest the ship sinks. To have the devil to pay and no pitch hot means that the situation is
hopeless, as pitch comes in solid blocks and takes a long time to melt. Balls
to the wall Though
not necessarily local, balls to the wall is used (and
mis-used) locally. Contrary to popular belief, the term is not crude and has nothing
to do with anatomy. One popular derivation is from aircraft pilots in WWII.
The throttle levers had balls on the end and when a pilot pushed the
throttles all of the way forward until stopped by the firewall, as in taking
off or dog-fighting, he was said to be going Òballs to the wallÓ. In support
of this theory, the term did not appear in print until the late 1940Õs. I
prefer to think that it is much older. During steamboat and railroad times,
steam and diesel engines had a governor consisting of two weighted metal
balls mounted on the ends of hinged rods and linked to a governor valve. As
engine RPMs increased, centrifugal force spun the balls outwards actuating
the valve and thus regulating speed. If the throttle was opened fully,
overriding the governor, the balls could spin so fast that they were
horizontal and could brush the surrounding walls, particularly in a ship. John
Luther Jones was an engineer on the Illinois Central Railroad who had a
reputation for arriving on time. As a young fireman, he was given the
nickname ÔCayceÕ, after his hometown in Kentucky, by a brakeman while
visiting a boarding house on the mainline. On April 30,1900, Cayce was trying
to make up time and was running balls to the wall when, through the
fog, he saw the red lantern of a freight train on the tracks ahead. He told
his fireman to jump while he desperately and heroically tried to slow the
train. No passengers were killed, but Cayce was found dead in the mangled
cab. Watermen Watermen are a hearty and
independent breed who work the waters of the Chesapeake Bay and its
tributaries. The terms waterman and watermen are specific only
to the Chesapeake Bay region and the Thames River area in England; elsewhere
they are just fishermen, lobstermen or crabbers. Watermen, and especially
those from Tangier Island and the Guinea Marshes who still speak a form of
Cornish or Elizabethan English, have a lot of picturesque and unique sayings
because of their working perspective of tides, winds and nature. When the
wind is out of the norÕeast and the marshes are covered with water up to the
tree line, some watermen will observe that, ÒThe ÔtoyeidÕ [tide]
sheÕs a-makinÕ up in the woodsÓ. The late James F. ÒLighthouseÓ Crocket was
one of many refugees from Tangier Island who moved to the mainland after the
hurricane of Õ33 swept over the island. As a boy, he was nicknamed
ÒLighthouseÓ by the Islanders because his flaming red hair made him stand out
like a lighthouse. One morning Lighthouse was sitting on his boat when Bob
French, a local yachtsman with skinny legs, strolled down the dock wearing
shorts. Lighthouse looked up and said, ÒCaptÕn Bob, you looks like a crane
a-standinÕ on a mudflat.Ó In referring to BobÕs yacht, which was big and
slow, Lighthouse observed that, Òshe donÕt draw as much wake as a soft crab.Ó
Northern
Neckisms Natives
of the Northern Neck of Virginia still use a number of unusual and colorful
expressions that are remnants of their Middle English heritage. Though born
and raised on the south side of the Rappahannock River, I heard the following
words and terms from my father while I was growing up. Daddy was born in
Northumberland County on top of Hard Bargain Hill in BallÕs Neck (pronounced nake) and claimed to
have driven a hard bargain ever since. He came along at the end of the
horse-and-buggy era, when people told stories and had real conversations, as
there was little else to do for entertainment. To
bell a buzzard: Buzzards
can be a serious nuisance in the country, especially if you have livestock.
They can actually kill vulnerable newborn calves and pigs unless aggressively
chased away. To bell not only means to ring a bell but also to yell or
bellow or otherwise raise a commotion. Therefore, someone who doesnÕt have
sense enough to bell a buzzard fails to comprehend the consequences of a
situation and take appropriate action. Mommick: Mommick, with many
dialectic variations in spelling, pronunciation and usage, evolved from Old English and has
survived in some local American dialects, especially along the coasts of
Virginia and North Carolina. As used in the Northern Neck and as I heard it
from my father, it means to break into pieces, tear up, put in disarray or
otherwise make a mess of. ÒShe tried to decorate the birthday cake, but mommicked it up something
terrible.Ó As
stubborn as a mollified mule: To mollify means to soothe,
soften or quiet. A mollified mule will just look at you as if to say,
ÒYeah, right – you pull the plow and IÕll just watch!Ó In
a sweat and a swivet: Sweat and Swivet both mean
essentially the same thing in Old English: in a hurry or in a state of
excitement or anxiety. They are usually used separately, as Òin a swivetÓ or ÒdonÕt sweat itÓ, but Northern
Neckers put them together in this quaint phrase that I often heard from my
father. ÒHe was in a sweat and as swivet because his tractor broke down and
he still had hay in the field.Ó ÔDeed
so and Ôdeed Ôtiz: These
contracted forms of Òindeed it
is soÓ and Òindeed it isÓ are prevalent in the Northern Neck, but seldom
encountered elsewhere. I have heard whole conversations carried on with just
an occasional subject, verb and direct object or two thrown in for
continuity. ÔDeed so. There
are many more colorful and interesting words and sayings that were once
popular in the Northern Neck, Middle Peninsula, Bay Islands and Eastern Shore
of Virginia, but are now being lost because of the homogenization of society.
ÔDeed so.
These are just some of my favorites that I have heard since childhood. I
hereby challenge the readership to send their interesting words and phrases
to Pleasant Living, especially those peculiar to River Country. If we get
enough participation, we might compile a dictionary of ÒRiverismsÓ. © Dan Gill - Published
in Pleasant Living July – Aug. Õ10 Something
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