club – podictionary 749

Apr 18th, 2008 | podcasts

Of course you know the story about Groucho Marx.

He was accepted as a member of a very exclusive club called the Friar’s Club and then sent them a telegram saying

Please accept my resignation. I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.

The word club began its life in English in 1205 according to the earliest documents that the Oxford English Dictionary could turn up.

It doesn’t seem to appear in Old English but instead in Old Norse. What this tells me is that it was likely a word in use in the northern part of England during the time before the tenth century, when the Danes were in charge up there after their Viking raids.

Few people were writing anything down at that point at that latitude and so the word had to wait until the Grandson of King Alfred the Great more or less unified the country, and then until literacy spread north, before the word club could join the party.

The club Groucho Marks wished to dissociate himself with* isn’t the Old Norse club though.

For centuries before and after that first 1205 citation a club was a club was club was a big honking stick that you could crack over someone else’s head.

That sounds more like a Viking word now doesn’t it.

So how exactly did the word that once meant “a big stick” come to mean “a group of people” that Groucho Marx wouldn’t want to associate with?

The Oxford English Dictionary is the only dictionary that I found that even makes an attempt to answer this. The others just say “from Old Norse.”

The OED tries but it doesn’t feel that it succeeds. Here’s the thinking.

The word club is related way back on the mists of Germanic language history to the word clump. A clump can just be a lump, but it can also have a sense of something “brought together” or “hanging together.” This may have influenced the use of the word club in the 1600s when the word started to mean “to gather things together.”

At one point a knot of hair on the back of your head could be called a club of hair because it was gathered together.

People pooled their resources to pay for an outing and that was called a club. And so more generally a social gathering, or the place it happened, or the organization it happened under, all became known as clubs within a very small number of decades.

So a golf club can thus be the thing you whack the white ball with, or the place you do it.

The problem with this logical progression as the OED points out, is that the transition between club meaning a big stick, and the emergence club meaning a group of people appears to be too short.

There appear to be no written records of social clubs or gathering hair into clubs at all before the 1600s, and then suddenly, within a few decades there are a whole gang of related meanings to club with various subtle shades of meaning too complex to have evolved that fast.

I guess Groucho Marx didn’t understand clubs either. He applied to become a member of a California beach club that he knew wouldn’t accept a Jew—which he was. He claimed that because his wife was a Gentile he hoped they’d let his son go into the ocean at least up to his knees.

*see comments

7 Comments »

Comment by Stuart

April 18, 2008 @ 6:25 am

Fascinating etymology built around one of my favourite quotes, thanks! I’d also like to thank you for introducing me to a construction I’d not come across before:
“The club Groucho Marks wished to dissociate himself with isn’t the Old Norse club though.”

I have only seen “dissociate from” before tonight, so it’s great to have my shallow grasp of English deepened a little. Much obliged!
What’s A Pieriansipist?

Comment by Charles Hodgson

April 18, 2008 @ 7:12 am

Now that you point it out I guess I should have said from. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I’ve been reading some stuff by people associated with Authors Guilds and Writers Unions and the like. To me many of the articles about how book authors approach blogs and “new media” appear a little sheltered. They place a whole lot of value on editing and copy editing and see exposure of unvetted writing as edgy.

It explains in part the long lead time that the book publishing industry seems content to live with. They feel there is a lot of value in these checks and balances. Yet, from what I see the process of putting a book together itself seems designed to introduce as many errors as might be removed. Certainly I see minor mistakes in print books all the time and it isn’t hard to imagine how they got there. Sometimes an editor suggests a change to sentence structure and the change is only partly implemented, another time a copy editor makes a suggested punctuation change but does so with a red pencil on an already crowded sheet of paper with the result that the compositor misses it or misinterprets it…

The point is that I am free to make my own errors here and the result isn’t all that much worse than what you can buy from a major publishing house (I flatter myself).

At one time I got all sweaty and lost sleep over such public embarrassments. It’s happened enough now that “what were once vices are now habits.” (I had hoped I remembered that from some philosopher but looking it up I see it was an album title from The Doobie Brothers.)

What’s a Pieriansipist you rhetorically ask? I’m pleased to see that I might be one. I’ll have to look into getting an official membership card. ([singing] “I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I don’t know enough about you…”)

Comment by Charles Hodgson

April 18, 2008 @ 7:21 am

Oh, and I also meant to say that the history of podictionary comes into play here. Because podictionary started out as a podcast and only later became a blog as a transcript of the podcast, the way I write the thing is “out loud.” That is to say, as I write the script (so it isn’t a transcript after all) I do so thinking of myself talking. We all know that how we express ourselves verbally is a little different, a little more causal, than how we usually communicate in writing. So that comes through. People who only read podictionary might not quite know that. In conversation we are usually more forgiving with each other’s errors than when we see them in writing. Fortunately for me most of you out there are pretty forgiving anyway.

Comment by Stuart

April 18, 2008 @ 3:46 pm

I certainly did not think you had made an error. I write “out loud” too, but without anything like your skill. When I read the transcript, I thought, “well I can see that makes sense, because you associate *with* so why shouldn’t you dissociate with”, and so I was happy to have learned something new. Also, as a reader I’m very grateful that you’ve been going to the extra time and trouble of providing transcripts.

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April 19, 2008 @ 6:03 pm

[...] áudio falando sobre alguma palavra comum da língua inglesa – veja alguns exemplos: club (clube), butler (mordomo) e loyal [...]

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September 1, 2008 @ 6:45 pm

[...] áudio falando sobre alguma palavra comum da língua inglesa – veja alguns exemplos: club (clube), butler (mordomo) e loyal [...]

Comment by Christopher Livaccari

January 28, 2009 @ 11:30 am

I came across your etymology of “club” via a google search. My best guess for the origin of “club” in the Groucho Marx sense was the phenomenon of clubmen during the English Civil War (1642-1651). These were groups of men armed with cudgels (clubs) which had come together to protect their wives, daughters, and property from soldiers. Your etymology places the use of “club” in the gathering sense at about this time. What do you think?

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