Laura Reid (Pease)

Judy, and I loved YOUR story also.  Very interesting how determined your Mother was to fit in, and how it affected your pronunciation.  We are certainly products of our families.  What about your Mother's parents; did they arrive from Hungary with your Mom (age 10) to flee from the war?

Jon Singer

Judy's folks and my parents were friends. I don't recall any accents. Her dad was smarter than all getout and her mom cut a hard bargain.  When I was 18 or so she was unwilling to drop the offering price for their beater, a Dodge Dart.  I ended up with my maternal grandmother brother's Plymouth.  That ride had as much girl attracting power as Si's 57 Plymouth with the '56 replacement engine.  Maybe he can tell you how Katona and I as occupants never picked up one stray parochial school girl hanging out on Harrison Ave.

As to "please", while in the first of 4 decades that we lived on Mitchell Ave, wife Ruth had our second child at the St. Bernard pool on opening day.  A photographer secured permission and The Enquirer posted a picture of our toddler crying in his mother's arms. I still have a copy somewhere. The story identified this quite attractive lady (my perspective).  That night some gentleman from the dark side of life without obligation and honor called.  He offered to use his tongue in an unusual way on her anatomy.  Ruth wasn't quite sure she understood his intent and politely said "please." Seemingly confused by her acceptance, she told me he promptly hung up. 

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Laura, We could have a long and interesting conversation about "fitting in", but for now, I'll just answer your question about when my mother's family came to America. It was about 1921-22, since Mom was 9 or 10. My grandfather was a POW from WWI, and my poor grandmother had an uncertain and terrible wait until his safe return. My mother told me that once they were in American and children in school learning English, my grandmother insisted on only English being spoken. Growing up, the only Hungarian I heard was when a letter was read aloud or the few simple nursery rhymes I was taught.

Jon, It was interesting to hear your impression about my parents. How did you discover that my Dad was very smart? My Mom, whom I would rather label stubborn as all h--l, probably learned to drive a hard bargain through the Pioneer Women rummage sales.... Sometimes they received really really nice things to sell, but because it was a "rummage" sale, women wanted to get a BARGAIN. Mom would make sure that the beloved Pioneer Women got what they deserved from those sales. Where was I when this car sale was being negotiated? I don't remember her selling a car, so maybe I was in Israel? Jon is correct. Our parents were friends. His Dad was a wonderful carpenter, and when my parents needed new living room furniture, he made a sofa and 2 chairs that were so strong and so confortable that my children as teenagers would fall asleep on them! I loved talking with both of Jon's parents. The Singer house was a warm and fascinating place for parochial ole me. I was Jon's little sister's youth group leader, and I dated his older brother a couple of times. But Jon and I never spoke or had any connection until much, much later. Kind of weird, considering.....

Becky Payne (Shockley)

Phil: I must correct your lyrics to the Ohio sesquicentennial song, which I remember learning in 1st grade (1953):

"It's High in the middle, and it's Round on the ends, it's

OH - HI - OH!!"

(The last 3 notes are very long. I'd sing it for you if I knew how to record it on my computer...!)

=========================================================================

CORRECTION: Although the 1st grade song we learned was correct, I discovered that your version of the lyrics are in the Ohio State Songbook, so I stand corrected! (But my version is shorter and easier to sing!)

Sandy Steele (Bauman)

I love Laura's story about her accent. I also am left handed, and early on, my first grade teacher wanted to make me write right handed, but my Mom told the teacher NO! I was moved to a more progressive teacher, but didn't get to skip a grade like Laura😊

Margery Erhardt (Feller)

Several comments:

Phil – you mention Elena Fuentes. Elena and I were friends….did sleepovers, etc. I know she didn’t graduate with us but I can’t remember if she changed schools. Becky Hamlin was in our class but she went with her father (a professor) to South America for a year and upon her return she enrolled in the class behind us as was their plan. I can’t remember if the same thing happened to Elena as her father was also a professor. Anne Keating also started with us (again a professor father) but they also left for Peru I believe for the same reason (sabbaticals, etc.) I would love to know what Elena is doing today.

“Please” was definitely a Cincinnati word. I didn’t use it much growing up as my mother had something against it though I don’t know what. But I did start using it when I moved south after graduation as it sounded more chic than “what” or “hey”. Also, I was in charge of a language lab at a southern college headed by a Dr. Elizabeth Hawk who was an Ohio native. As I had reasonable “General American English” I was to train our women college students to get rid of their southern accents since they were going into Speech Therapy. She hated…ba ba and would constantly tell them they sounded like sheep saying goodbye! But I did have to let my “warsh” go…as that didn’t meet with her approval!

“Please” again…I have a good childhood friend (she attended Miss Doherty's) living in Atlanta and we talk several times a week. So yesterday, during our conversation, I asked her what she says if she doesn’t understand what someone has said to her and she immediately said “please”. I mention that this has been an ongoing discussion in our WH class and she said that it is definitely a Cincinnati pronunciation. In fact, when she married and she and her husband traveled, several times she was stopped by a stranger who would say…” you’re from Cincinnati”. We have fun talking about past experiences such as camp, Mme. Fefe’s, and how she wanted to attend WH but her parents insisted that she attend Miss Doherty's. She is losing many of her HS former friends and we both have lost our husbands so our talks mean a lot to both of us.

Paul Simons

The word “Please?” - with the uptalk accent, pitch rising as it’s spoken - does seem to be a request for the repetition of a previous word or phrase. But what about “Please.” in a firm, even monotone or even “Oh, PLEASE!!” in the dreaded, ominous downward moving pitch, obviously meaning that the previous words or phrases are absurd, ridiculous, not credible? I don’t have anything beyond that to contribute except a warning to be sure people understand what you mean because these days misunderstandings can escalate quickly. 

Jerry Ochs

Paul's comment reminded me of this.

A linguist taught a class at an American university and explained that a double negative could make a positive, but there was no language in the world in which a double positive made a negative. A heckler replied bluntly "Yeah, right." --Keene 22:26, 12 January 2008 (UTC)

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Interestingly enough, this just appeared on my Facebook timeline. https://www.npr.org/2020/09/07/909224971/often-its-not-what-you-say-but-how-you-say-it

Sandy Steele (Bauman)

Margie,  Elena was a sorority sister of mine at UC. I believe she graduated from Aiken High School. Her husband, Bill, passed away about four years ago. She always gets a group of us together for lunch ( 3-4 times a year) at Camp Washington Chili Parlor. She lives in Florida part of the year.

Philip Spiess

Becky:  You are quite correct that 1953 was the year of the Ohio Sequicentennial of statehood (it was also the year of Eisenhower's first Inaugural and Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom's Coronation -- how she does go on; she's beaten out Queen Victoria for longevity on the throne!).  I had no idea that the O-High-O bit was a song (never heard it), just a riddle.  (All I remember, when it comes to jingles, is, "When the value goes up, up, up, and the prices go down, down, down, Robert Hall is in season to show you the reason -- low overhead, low overhead!")

Margery:  I have just this evening sent an e-mail to Elena Fuentes (if that's whose e-mail I now have; I last saw her about sixteen years ago in the Krohn Conservatory); she apparently went to Aiken, so if I've got the right e-mail, I'll send it to you.  For a while I was in a carpool with Becky Hamlin; her father had been the Librarian at the University of Cincinnati.  I had forgotten about Anne Keating, who I knew well at the time; thank you for bringing her back into my memory.

On "Please":  I don't know whether we have a folklorist or a linguist among us, but our discussion of this subject is catnip to them; I hope they are listening (or reading).  I've never been identified as a Cincinnatian by using "Please" (as I've noted above, despite Miss Scarborough's best efforts, I've never used it), but once, in the 1970s (I think it was), at a wedding party in White Plains, New York, while dancing with a young lady from my (now) wife's graduate class at Cooperstown, New York, a distinguished elderly woman observing from the sidelines suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and said, "You're from Cincinnati, aren't you?"  Surprised, I said, "Uh, yes," and she said, "I knew it!  Only boys from Cincinnati dance that well!"  I was taken aback by this information, not thinking that Cincinnati was known as a dancing town, otherwise I would have quizzed her further about her knowledge; I knew Madame Federova's was legendary locally, though I myself had attended the George Gallus (am I getting this right?) dance studio.  (It was, no doubt, my superb cha-cha that tipped her off, though my Viennese waltz is, or was, exemplary.  Or maybe it was the Charleston.)

And now to more local linguistics:  In the years when I was Research Associate at the Cincinnati Historical Society in Eden Park, we received an inquiry about two terms, which the inquirer claimed were supposed to be strictly local to Cincinnati, and wondered if that was true; he also wondered what the terms really meant.  Those terms were "Jack salmon" and "pony keg."  The staff, stumped, promptly turned the question over to me (that's what I was being paid for).  And first, because I could not find nor establish more than local lingusitic use for these terms, I assumed that they were, indeed, local to Cincinnati.  Second, after some intense but stultifying research (read:  "dead end"), I more or less established that "Jack salmon" referred to the "walleyed pike," which is not, in fact, a pike, let alone a salmon, but a perch (well, huh!), according to The New Food Lover's Companion (4th Edition). As to "pony keg," the term "pony" is well known to tipplers, bartenders, and mixologists alike, as being a 1-ounce bar measure -- but this did not explain the term inquired about.  Only research on the ground around town determined (and this provisionally) that the term "pony keg" applied to stores that supplied beer and wine (stronger spirits being restricted to sales at the Ohio State liquor stores) and ice in quantity for purchase to take out.  There was a well-known one for years in Corryville just west of and down the hill from Vine Street, which I'm sure served the University of Cincinnati community (I know it served Clifton); whether it's still there or not, I presently cannot say.

Paul Simons

Not to try to out-reference Phil - that would be ill-advised - but here’s what Wikipedia says: “A quarter barrel, more commonly known as pony keg, is a beer vessel containing approximately 7.75 U.S. gallons (29.33 liters) of fluid. It is half the size of the standard beer keg and equivalent to a quarter of a barrel.”

There was a fabulous pony keg across the street from the Bond Hill park. It had the beer and wine and also candy, chips, pretzels, soda or pop - call it what you will - and also was probably the purveyor of my first tobacco purchase, a 5-pack of  Cigarillos. Just looking at that word it was likely the first experience of the multiculturalism that some enjoy and some revile. Cigarillos did smell good but in general tobacco is a bad thing. Some say it causes cancer but more research is needed. As Phil says, “Yeah, right”.

Philip Spiess

Paul:  Of course, the pony keg in Corryville also sold all of the other items you mention (I suppose most pony kegs around town did).  It had a wonderful and distinctive neon sign in several colors, depicting the barrel which you describe.  It also sold "White Gas" for Coleman stoves and lanterns.

Richard Murdock

Madame Fifi's !!   I had not thought about her and her dance instructions in a very long time.  The mere mention of her name brought back surprisingly vivid memories - of both extreme terror and at the same time great excitement.  I remember getting dressed up in a suit with tie and jacket and then being driven to a large ballroom somewhere for dance lessons with Madame FiFi -  who I recall as being a short older lady dressed in a long black dress.    My memory is that boys were on one side of the room and girls were on the other.  Each eyeing the other with a mixture of terror and excitement.  She would demonstrate a particular dance move then it was our turn.  The boys advanced on the girls to find a partner and I can only now imagine how that must have looked to the girls.  Sort of an advancing horde of young barbarians. 

In the end it did work to a large extent and I did learn some aspects of ballroom dancing and the etiquette involved.  However I cannot remember the last time I used any of those skills. 

Looking back on the process, it would have been a huge improvement if Madame FiFi simply divided us up into co-ed groups of 4 or 6 and allowed us to socialize just a bit before trying out the dance moves. 

Margery Erhardt (Feller)

Thank you, Phil and Sandy, concerning Elena. She lived in Clifton when I knew her so they must have moved to College Hill perhaps. I did my student teaching at Aiken. Lovely school!

Richard – I believe the classes were held at the Alms Hotel there in Walnut Hills. Madam Federova was a Cincinnati institution. Yes, we lined up in the two rows you mention at the beginning of the class when she instructed a “new step.” But as the hour went on she would allow the boys to choose partners and even allowed the girls to choose…a woman ahead of her time! We girls had fun too. We complained a lot but it was fun to get dressed every Friday evening. I remember one time when my friend (same one I mentioned yesterday) and I tried to climb out the window in the girl’s powder room. I have no idea where we thought we were going but it was fun to try anyway. We got stuck in the window so had to return to the ballroom albeit with some newly found dirt.

Jerry Ochs

Elderly people and nostalgia go together like peanut butter and .......

that spreadable made from fruit juice and cows' hooves.

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Dance lessons: I did not attend Madame Fifi (although I did have a pink stuffed poodle named Fifi, and STILL have her somewhere in a closet). For me, there were dance lessons at the Jewish Center where we could meet nice young people our age from The Tribe (I believe this term was discussed previously?) and also learn the latest popular dance steps. No waltzing was done here! I remember several class members attending. However, I don't remember who the teacher was. Can anyone help?

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Love your new picture, Jerry!

Paul Simons

Judy - I was also one of the attendees of the Jewish Center dance classes. But there was another option - a person,  male, who maybe went by just a single name. Like Eminem or Cher or Beyonce or Sting. Maybe somebody remembers. Maybe something like P.B. Like Ice-T. Or O.J. Way too cool for me. They also had a "canteen" night where they'd play 45 RPM records, They never failed to play "Splish Splash" by Bobby Darin. And "Splash Parties" at that big swimming pool. Which I broke into along with a few others who shall remain nameless for a summer night swim in about 1966. Fun fun fun.  Anyway I never learned to do those goofy dances. Fortunately it's now possible  to do something extremely simplistic and still occupy space on a dance floor with a partner at a nightclub or will be again when Covid-19 is over. 

Dale Gieringer

This is the sky we woke up to this morning.  Looks like the Apocalypse is coming to California. The sky is dark as night now (it's 8:45 on a late-summer morning).    Every day we're setting new records for consecutive unhealthy air days.  Labor Day was the weekend from hell.  It was over 100 in the Bay Area and reached 121 degrees down south in LA.  At least we haven't had any power outages where we live, but other folks aren't so lucky. 

And you tell me over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction

David Buchholz

We live a couple of miles from Dale.  A north wind blew the smoke from the fires directly over the Bay Area, at which point the winds went home for lunch. leaving us with this at 5:45 yesterday

and this, this morning.  A view from my deck an hour ago when it wasn't quite pitch black and orange, which it is at 9:11.

And even worse, Home Depot, Lowe's, and all the other hardware stores have run out of rakes, so we're bound and helpless, unable to rake the leaves from the forests. 

Becky Payne (Shockley)

My older brother Karl and I also attended Madame Fifi's. I didn't mind it but he hated it, and was only persuaded to attend when my dad bribed him by agreeing to work on his model train table on the 3rd floor if he attended the class. I think I still remember the waltz and cha-cha but that's about all.

Becky Payne (Shockley)

Thanks to Dave and Dale for the beautiful but frightening photos. (Please don't try raking leave in this weather!) I hope more people can begin to understand the effects of climate change and take action... Stay well!

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

I cannot imagine trying to breathe that air, not to mention the threat of approaching flames from the fires.  It's so frightening. Take care!

Margery Erhardt (Feller)

Jerry, Great pic finally!!! What I remember the most about you is your quick wit and humor. But there was one day where there was no humor. You and I were in Mr. Gregory’s afternoon class, the sixth period I believe, and as we flowed in before the bell, you came in rather solemnly … so unlike you. A couple of us asked you what was wrong and you said, as you went to your seat toward the right rear, that the President had been shot (or died as I can’t remember which one at that stage) and we looked at you and said “stop putting us on.” And then we got the announcement over the loudspeaker. We all just sat there in silence not comprehending what had actually happened. That said, they say none of us will ever forget where we were that day as well as 9/11. I believe that to be true!