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CMOS: New Questions and Answers

CMOS: New Questions and Answers

It’s the time of the month when The CMOS posts their new questions and answers. Read below to find answers to your style questions or even questions you didn’t even thought you had!

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New Questions and Answers

Q. Dear CMOS! I have a grammar question that has thrown our small department into a tizzy. In a sentence like “There are an even number of kittens on the veranda,” we are evenly split (pun intended!) as to whether “There are” is correct since there are a plural number of kittens or “There is” is correct because the number is (see? “is”) even. We’ve checked Garner’s entry for “number of,” which seems to throw down in favor of “there are,” but those of us in the “there is” contingent aren’t convinced. Any light the CMOS team can shed on this?

A. The expression “a number of” is an idiomatic phrase that means “some” or “several,” which is why a plural verb would normally be expected after “a number of kittens” used by itself: A number of kittens [or Some kittens] are on the veranda—or, if you invert the sentence, There are a number of kittens [or some kittens] on the veranda.

But if you change a to the, the idiom goes away, and the focus switches to the word number itself, making a singular verb the correct choice: The number of kittens on the veranda is huge. If you then invert that, however, you’re back to the plural: A huge number of kittens are on the veranda. So far, we’re mostly in line with Garner’s Modern English Usage, 5th ed. (2022), under “number of.”

But huge in that inverted example keeps things idiomatically plural: A huge number of kittens simply means lots of kittens, an expression that requires a plural verb. An even number, by contrast, means just what it says: a number that’s even instead of odd. And though it isn’t one of the examples featured in Garner, an even number doesn’t seem to have an obvious plural idiomatic equivalent like some or lots that could replace it; therefore, a singular verb is arguably the better choice: There is an even number of kittens on the veranda.

In other words, the number of kittens on the veranda is even (🐈🐈🐈🐈) rather than odd (🐈🐈🐈), an observation that puts the number ahead of the kittens. Nothing is certain when it comes to kittens, but that’s our take.

Q. In CMOS 16.71, why is Leonardo da Vinci indexed under “L”? And in an article that refers to people by surnames on subsequent mention, should he be referred to as “Leonardo” or “da Vinci”?

A. You can ignore Dan Brown and others who’ve rebranded the archetypal Renaissance man as “Da Vinci.” The name is Leonardo, and he came from Vinci (da Vinci), an Italian town in the region of Tuscany.

Leonardo can be referred to in full as Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (as noted on page 69 of Walter Isaacson’s 2017 biography, Leonardo da Vinci [Simon & Schuster])—in which “di ser Piero” means he’s the son of a man named Piero (ser is an old social title that was similar to “sir”). Leonardo’s father was also da Vinci, which isn’t a surname but rather an epithet (see CMOS 8.34). Leonardo and Piero are given names (i.e., first names).

Because he lacks a surname, Leonardo da Vinci is properly indexed under “L” and would be referred to in the text as Leonardo—that is, after having been introduced as Leonardo da Vinci.

Q. When is it proper to use an ampersand? Thank you.

A. In edited prose, use of the ampersand—&*—is normally limited to

terms like R&D and Q&A that are always spelled with an ampersand (see also CMOS 10.10);

corporate names like AT&T and Simon & Schuster that reflect the usage of a particular company or brand (see also CMOS 10.24); and

ampersands in verbatim quotations.

An ampersand may also be used when mentioning the title of a work that includes one (subject to editorial discretion; see CMOS 8.165). And if you’re working with HTML, you may need an ampersand in a character reference like   (for a nonbreaking space)—or & (for an ampersand).

__________

* According to the OED (and other sources), the ampersand evolved from a stylized rendering of the Latin conjunction et (and) in the form of a ligature, and the word ampersand is an English-language corruption of “& (and) per se and” (“and by itself [is] and”)—a phrase that differentiated the symbol from &c., an old-fashioned way of writing et cetera (and others).

Q. Hello, I use old-style figures in the text of my document. Do you have any recommendations for whether they should then be used also for footnote markers in the body text and/or the footer?

A. Our designers prefer lining figures for the superscript note reference numbers in the text, even in works that otherwise feature old-style figures—as in the book Eleanor of Aquitaine, as It Was Said: Truth and Tales about the Medieval Queen, by Karen Sullivan (University of Chicago Press, 2023). The corresponding numbers at the beginning of each note, however—which in Chicago style aren’t superscripts—would use old-style figures.

Superscript lining figures in the text:

Old-style figures on the baseline in the corresponding note:

Notice how the digits in the superscript 106 are all roughly the same height, ensuring that a note number 1, for example, will be about the same size as a note number 6. This matters more with the smaller superscripts than it does for the numbers that sit on the baseline—even in the text of the notes, which is slightly smaller than the main text. (The Sullivan book features endnotes, but the advice would be the same for footnotes. See also CMOS 14.24.)

Q. Have we abandoned altogether the rule to put note reference numbers (and only one per sentence, please) at the end of the sentence? I’ve prepared indexes for a number of academic monographs lately where note reference numbers are sprinkled willy-nilly throughout the text.

A. CMOS does still say that a note reference number1 is best placed at the end of a sentence or clause,2 but there isn’t any limitation—technical or otherwise3—that might prevent authors from placing such a reference4 elsewhere, or that might bar authors from using more than one in a sentence.5

So if a publisher or editor has failed to enforce the spirit of CMOS6 relative to note reference numbers—and the book’s already at the indexing stage7—​there’s not much we can do to help you.8

__________

1. Or symbol—*, †, ‡, etc.

2. See CMOS 14.26.

3. A note reference number can literally appear anywhere in a document.

4. Like this one.

5. This sentence has five.

6. See note 2 above.

7. As described in CMOS 16.108.

8. Other than show with this answer how distracting such notes can be. 🙂

Q. In a collection of (some previously published) essays all by one writer, does one cite the author as the editor too? CMOS 14.104 and 14.106 seem to come close, but they don’t address this exact situation. In the source I’m working with, the title page does not credit the author as editor, but some of the essays were previously published. Thanks!

A. No, you wouldn’t cite the author as both author and editor of the book. For example, “The Girl in the Window” and Other True Tales (University of Chicago Press, 2023) is an anthology of stories written by Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist Lane DeGregory that were originally published in the Tampa Bay Times (formerly the St. Petersburg Times).

The title page credits DeGregory as author of the book and Beth Macy as author of a foreword. No other contributor is listed. So even though it was DeGregory herself who compiled, edited, and annotated the stories, you wouldn’t cite her as editor also.

Besides, the words “edited by” don’t have the power to tell the reader that some or all of the essays in a book were previously published. If that info is relevant, you can say so either in the text (as we’ve done near the beginning of this answer) or in a note. But for the citation itself, follow the title page.

Q. We have to number our paragraphs in the research paper we are writing. What is the proper way to do this?

A. CMOS doesn’t cover this, but a convenient way to number paragraphs in MS Word or Google Docs is by using the feature for numbered lists.

In either program, you can start by selecting the paragraphs you want to number. Then use the numbering icon, which in Word is in the Paragraph group under the Home tab; in Docs, there’s a similar icon in the toolbar above the document.

You can then use the ruler in either Word or Docs to move the paragraph numbers into the left margin and to format the paragraphs with first-line indents (which may require setting a tab stop). See also CMOS 2.12.

In Word, adding a custom paragraph style will enable you to reapply this same formatting wherever it’s needed. In Docs, you’ll need a third-party add-on to do the same. But both programs include a format painter that can be used in a similar way, allowing you to copy the automatic numbering and other formatting from one paragraph and apply it to others as needed.

Word and Docs both allow you to stop and restart numbering as needed to skip over headings and the like. And if your document includes numbered lists in addition to the numbered paragraphs, you can use the options in either program to create multiple independently numbered lists.

If you need even more flexibility, and you’re comfortable digging a little deeper into the software, you can try using Word’s Seq field code to insert sequential numbers that are independent of the numbered list feature and can be placed anywhere in your document. For more details, see the article “Numbering with Sequence Fields,” by Word guru Allen Wyatt, at Tips.net.

October Q&A

Q. It is my contention as a longtime editor and writer (and avid amateur cook and baker) that the apostrophe in “confectioner’s sugar” should precede the “s” in “confectioners.” Yet in recipes throughout the US, for many years the apostrophe has typically followed the “s” of “confectioners.” I maintain that this is incorrect and a fairly recent (in decades) development. What do you think?

A. We agree that the spelling confectioner’s sugar makes sense—by analogy with, for example, baker’s yeast. With that placement of the apostrophe, the term refers to a type of sugar used by a confectioner (singular). But we have to side with common usage here. Not only is the spelling confectioners’ sugar more common than the alternatives (including confectioners sugar, where the plural noun is used attributively), it’s a lot more common.* The dictionary at Merriam-Webster.com doesn’t even list an alternative (as of October 2023). Neither does The American Heritage Dictionary.

So maybe just accept that the term confectioners’ sugar (with the apostrophe following the s) refers to a variety of sugar used by or typical of confectioners (plural) considered as a category or group as opposed to a type of sugar used by an individual confectioner, a relatively arbitrary distinction. Anyone who expects apostrophes to be consistent across similar terms may not be happy, but the farmers at the farmers or farmers’ or farmer’s market will probably understand.†

__________

* By way of comparison, baker’s yeast is the accepted spelling today, but that spelling was neck and neck with bakers’ yeast in published books until about 1950, after which it became the norm (or, you could say, rose to the top).

† Chicago prefers farmers’ market (see CMOS 7.27).

Q. Hello, I’m wondering how to style the name of a television program that has been assimilated into the cultural lexicon so that references to it are not truly references to the show. In particular, an author said, “When I landed at the airport, it was as if I had entered the Twilight Zone.” (He makes many references to this.) I feel it should be capitalized but not italicized, but I can’t find anything to say one way or another. Can you help? Thanks!

A. In your example, you’re right—the reference isn’t to the television show; rather, it’s to the fictional realm made famous by the show. So we agree with your treatment. Had your example been worded instead as follows, italics (and a capital T for The) would have been correct: “When I landed at the airport, it was as if I had arrived on the set of The Twilight Zone.”

Q. Does CMOS have a rule for using one el or two in verbs ending in “ing”? For example, “traveling” or “travelling”? “exceling” or “excelling”?

A. If you’re an American traveler who’s traveling in the United States, use one l; if you’re a British traveller travelling in the UK, use two. But if you plan on excelling in either region, you’ll want to use two l’s for that word.

That’s because of two competing conventions: (1) When –ing or –ed (or –er) is added to a word of two or more syllables that ends in a consonant preceded by a single vowel (like travel and excel), the consonant is usually doubled if the stress falls on the final syllable. Accordingly, you’d write traveling and traveled (because the stress in travel is on the first syllable) but excelling and excelled (the stress in excel is on the second). But (2) travelling and travelled (and traveller) are exceptions to the rule in British but not American usage.

We don’t know the reason for that exception, but we can offer as evidence this footnote from page 16 of the eighteenth edition of Horace Hart’s Rules for Compositors and Readers at the University Press, Oxford (published in 1904, the first year Hart’s guide was offered to the public):

We must, however, still except the words ending in –el, as levelled, -er, -ing; travelled, -er, -ing; and also worshipped, -er, -ing.—J. A. H. M.

That footnoted exception applies to the rule about not doubling consonants when the last syllable isn’t stressed. “J. A. H. M.” is James Murray, the main editor of the original Oxford English Dictionary, who is also credited on the title page of that edition (and others) of Hart’s Rules as one of two people responsible for revising its “English spellings.”

The three exceptions noted in the footnote above are still followed in British English. In American English, by contrast, level and (as we have seen) travel do not double the l, but worship usually doubles the p (as in British English).

CMOS used to include a list of preferred spellings—as on pages 37 and 38 of the first edition (published 1906), which showed traveler with one l and (in a decision backed by logic that nonetheless didn’t stick) worshiper with one p. CMOS now defers to Merriam-Webster for such decisions.

Q. I can’t get a definite answer on how to punctuate a sentence that starts with “trust me.” For example, “Trust me, you don’t want to do that.” Would this be considered a comma splice? Would it be better to use a period or em dash, or is the comma okay? What about “believe me” or “I swear”?

A. Any phrase like “trust me” at the beginning of a sentence that is roughly equivalent to a “yes” or a “no” can normally be followed by a comma (as covered in CMOS 6.34):

No, you don’t want to do that.

is like

Trust me, you don’t want to do that.

whereas

Yes, I’ve edited the whole document.

is like

Believe me, I’ve edited the whole document.

and

I swear, I’ve edited the whole document.

You could use a stronger mark of punctuation for extra emphasis:

I swear! It’s not a comma splice!

or

I swear—it’s not a comma splice.

among other possibilities

But a simple comma will be the best choice in most contexts (and won’t get you in trouble for using a comma splice—at least not with us).

Q. Dear CMOS, As regards a foreign word that needs to remain in its original language in a lengthy comparative analysis, would you inflect this word so as to reflect its grammatical position in a sentence consistent with its inflection in the original language? The word at issue is Pflichtteilsberechtigter (roughly, a forced heir). In its original German, the singular of the word could be either Pflichtteilsberechtigte or Pflichtteilsberechtigter, depending on whether it is preceded, respectively, by a definite or an indefinite article. As a plural, it could be either Pflichtteilsberechtigten or Pflichtteilsberechtigte, depending on whether it is preceded, respectively, by a definite article or a zero article.

Consistent with German grammar, the word would be spelled/inflected as follows in these four sample sentences (the first two being singular usages and the second two plural usages): “A Pflichtteilsberechtigter enjoys special rights in German succession law. The Pflichtteilsberechtigte, the son of the deceased, sued the testamentary heir for a portion of the estate. Courts require Pflichtteilsberechtigte to submit certain forms. In the case at issue, the court required the Pflichtteilsberechtigten to first appear before a notary.”

Employing spellings consistent with German grammatical rules on inflection could potentially confuse readers unfamiliar with these rules (or leave them thinking the writer/editor has been careless!). But adopting a wholesale simplification (e.g., writing Pflichtteilsberechtigter whenever it is a singular usage and Pflichtteilsberechtigte whenever it is a plural usage and not further inflecting according to German grammar) could confuse—or at least annoy—those readers who will have an appreciation of German, which will likely be significant in this case. We look forward to any input you have to offer!

A. Extrapolating from CMOS 11.3, it’s usually best to inflect a non-English word that hasn’t been anglicized just as it would be in the original language, as when referring to more than one Blume (flower) as Blumen (flowers).

Accordingly, the examples in your second paragraph seem good to us, with one possible caveat. Out of context, it may not be obvious to all readers that “the Pflichtteilsberechtigten” in your last sentence is supposed to be plural. If necessary, you could rephrase—for example, as “each Pflichtteilsberechtigte,” where the German noun is now clearly singular (and inflected as it would be following the)—or whatever best conveys the intended meaning.

But you should consider explaining for your readers how these inflections work—for example, in a note the first time one of these terms appears in your text. The explanation near the beginning of your question (“In its original German, . . .”) could easily form the basis of such a note.

Q. Our style guide states that “healthcare” must be treated as one word, but would this extend to varieties, such as mental healthcare? Merriam-Webster lists “mental health” as a separate noun, so I’m genuinely confused whether it should be “mental health care” or “mental healthcare.” Thank you!!

A. Good question! The version “mental health care,” which keeps the term “mental health” intact, makes a little more sense than “mental healthcare.” A hyphen might make that pairing even clearer—“mental-health care.” But because the term “health care” belongs together just as much as “mental health” does, the unhyphenated phrasing is still better.

In your case, however, since “healthcare” is in your style guide as one word, we’d recommend going with “mental healthcare” to jibe with your use of the word “healthcare” in other contexts. Readers are more likely to be put off by an obvious inconsistency than by a slight asymmetry.

Q. Hello! Here’s a fun citation style question: How do you cite website content that’s accessible only through the Wayback Machine from Archive.org?

A. Cite the content as you normally would, but credit the Wayback Machine and include the URL for the archived page. For example, let’s say you were to mention the fact that Merriam-Webster.com still listed the hyphenated form e-mail in its entry for that term as late as January 2, 2021, with email offered as an equal variant (“or email”). You could cite your evidence in a footnote as follows (see also CMOS 14.233):

1. Merriam-Webster, s.v. “e-mail,” archived January 2, 2021, at the Wayback Machine, https://​web.archive.org​/web​/20210102004146​/https://​www.merriam​-webster​.com​/dictionary​/e-mail.

Notice the URL, an unwieldy double-decker consisting of two consecutive URLs stitched together. If you wanted a shorter URL, you could cite only the second part (i.e., the original URL for the content), as follows:

1. Merriam-Webster, s.v. “e-mail,” https://​www​.merriam​-webster​.com​/dictionary​/e​-mail, archived January 2, 2021, at the Wayback Machine.

That’s a bit more concise than the first example, but readers will need to enter the original URL at the Wayback Machine (which they’ll have to find on their own) and then use the date to get to the right version of the page.

Either approach is acceptable as long as you’re consistent.

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Grammarphobia: A questionable caticism

Grammarphobia: A questionable caticism

The question of fellow Grammarphobia reader sheds light into a common English idiomatic expression that would make cat lovers cringe. It’s bad news for catfish lovers, though. Did you know the origin of this expression?

Thanks for reading Capturing Voices! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Q: I’ve heard that the expression “there’s more than one way to skin a cat” refers to cleaning a catfish, not skinning a cat. Is this true?

A: No, the expression is not about skinning catfish (though they are in fact cleaned by skinning, not scaling).

The “cat” here is indeed of the feline variety, but the phrase isn’t intended literally. It didn’t come from real people sitting around sharing tips about how to skin real cats.

Cats appear in many hyperbolic expressions—perhaps because they make for catchy language. We’ve written on our blog about a few other caticisms, including the “cat’s pajamas” (or “cat’s meow”), a “cat’s-paw,” “she is the cat’s mother,” “let the cat out of the bag,” and “cat got your tongue?” In fact, the word in some catty phrases is purely accidental, as with “catty (or kitty) corner.”

But back to skinning cats. As you might imagine, a dead cat is not much use and there’s little value in its fur. So how did the notion of skinning one creep into a common English expression?

The story begins in the 17th century with another phrase, “to skin a flint,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The OED says this was the first of several “hyperbolical phrases” about skinning things—a group of expressions that denoted exaggerated stinginess “or the willingness to go to extreme lengths to save or gain something.”

As the dictionary explains, “to skin a flint” was “a hyperbolical exemplification of avarice,” and “skinning a flint” was a figurative usage meaning “parsimonious saving.” A flint is a piece of hard stone used to make sparks, and of course it has no skin.

(A similar notion is found in the word “cheeseparing,” a 16th-century noun that meant a scrap pared from the rind of a cheese—something that’s useless or barely edible. Later, “cheeseparing” was used only figuratively, to mean economizing with small, stingy cuts.)

This is the OED’s earliest example of the “flint” phrase: “Jones was one Would Skinne a Flint, and eat him when h’had done” (from a satirical poem, The Legend of Captaine Jones, by David Lloyd, 1656).

Citations in the dictionary show that the “flint” version survived into the 20th century, as in this example from Poems (1917), by Edward Thomas: “For a farthing she’d skin a flint and spoil a knife / Worth sixpence skinning it.”

And, yes, this is where “skinflint” comes from, a late-17th-century noun defined in the OED as “a person who would ‘skin a flint’ to save or gain a thing, esp. money; a mean or avaricious person; a miser.”

In the 19th century, other versions of the “skin” phrase began appearing. A miser, seeing to get the last atom of use out of a useless thing, would “skin a louse” (1803), “skin a flea … for its hide or tallow” (1819), and finally “skin a cat.”

Here’s the earliest “cat” version in the OED: “I was … brought up amongst fellows would skin a cat” (from Davenport Dunn, 1859, by the Irish novelist Charles James Lever).

We found this parsimonious example in a travel guide: “A certain American once said, that to obtain money a Natalian would skin a cat” (South Africa: A Sketch Book, 1884, by James Stanley Little).

Meanwhile, the notion of skinning cats underwent a change in American usage. A new expression, “there is more than one way to skin a cat” (and variants) came to mean “there is more than one means of achieving a given aim,” the OED says.

This is the earliest example we’ve found: “At any rate, thought I, there’s more than one way to skin a cat” (from The New York Transcript, reprinted in The Indiana American, Brookville, Jan. 15, 1836).

The question here is whether the miserly expression “to skin a cat” was the direct source of “more than one way to skin a cat.” There’s no way to know for sure, but our guess is that the first one influenced the second.

We say this because similar proverbs of the “more than one way” variety—and all meaning that there are different means of accomplishing the same goal—existed before cats became part of the expression.

Perhaps the earliest such proverb was “there are more ways to the wood than one,” dating from the early 16th century. This version (we’ve also seen “more ways to the mill”) has appeared in published writing in every century since then, including our own.

Meanwhile, dogs began showing up in 17th-century versions of the expression, as in these examples (from our own searches as well as OED citations): “ther’s more wayes to kill a Dog then hanging of him” (1640); “there are more ways of killing a dog than choking him with butter” (1829); “there are more ways than one to kill a dog” (1835).

Lo and behold, cats also crept into the expression: “There is more than one way to kill a cat” (1833); “There’s more ways of killing a cat than hanging of her” (1843); “More ways of killing a cat than choking her with cream” (1855), and so on.

What we suspect is that the appearance of cats in those various “more than one way” expressions evoked that earlier phrase about extreme stinginess, with misers so cheap they would “skin a flint” or “skin a flea” or “skin a cat.”

It seems reasonable that the two “cat” expressions were conflated. And that might explain how “more than one way to skin a cat” appeared in the 1830s.

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Grammarphobia: A questionable caticism

Grammarphobia: A questionable caticism

The question of fellow Grammarphobia reader sheds light into a common English idiomatic expression that would make cat lovers cringe. It’s bad news for catfish lovers, though. Did you know the origin of this expression?

Thanks for reading Capturing Voices! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Q: I’ve heard that the expression “there’s more than one way to skin a cat” refers to cleaning a catfish, not skinning a cat. Is this true?

A: No, the expression is not about skinning catfish (though they are in fact cleaned by skinning, not scaling).

The “cat” here is indeed of the feline variety, but the phrase isn’t intended literally. It didn’t come from real people sitting around sharing tips about how to skin real cats.

Cats appear in many hyperbolic expressions—perhaps because they make for catchy language. We’ve written on our blog about a few other caticisms, including the “cat’s pajamas” (or “cat’s meow”), a “cat’s-paw,” “she is the cat’s mother,” “let the cat out of the bag,” and “cat got your tongue?” In fact, the word in some catty phrases is purely accidental, as with “catty (or kitty) corner.”

But back to skinning cats. As you might imagine, a dead cat is not much use and there’s little value in its fur. So how did the notion of skinning one creep into a common English expression?

The story begins in the 17th century with another phrase, “to skin a flint,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The OED says this was the first of several “hyperbolical phrases” about skinning things—a group of expressions that denoted exaggerated stinginess “or the willingness to go to extreme lengths to save or gain something.”

As the dictionary explains, “to skin a flint” was “a hyperbolical exemplification of avarice,” and “skinning a flint” was a figurative usage meaning “parsimonious saving.” A flint is a piece of hard stone used to make sparks, and of course it has no skin.

(A similar notion is found in the word “cheeseparing,” a 16th-century noun that meant a scrap pared from the rind of a cheese—something that’s useless or barely edible. Later, “cheeseparing” was used only figuratively, to mean economizing with small, stingy cuts.)

This is the OED’s earliest example of the “flint” phrase: “Jones was one Would Skinne a Flint, and eat him when h’had done” (from a satirical poem, The Legend of Captaine Jones, by David Lloyd, 1656).

Citations in the dictionary show that the “flint” version survived into the 20th century, as in this example from Poems (1917), by Edward Thomas: “For a farthing she’d skin a flint and spoil a knife / Worth sixpence skinning it.”

And, yes, this is where “skinflint” comes from, a late-17th-century noun defined in the OED as “a person who would ‘skin a flint’ to save or gain a thing, esp. money; a mean or avaricious person; a miser.”

In the 19th century, other versions of the “skin” phrase began appearing. A miser, seeing to get the last atom of use out of a useless thing, would “skin a louse” (1803), “skin a flea … for its hide or tallow” (1819), and finally “skin a cat.”

Here’s the earliest “cat” version in the OED: “I was … brought up amongst fellows would skin a cat” (from Davenport Dunn, 1859, by the Irish novelist Charles James Lever).

We found this parsimonious example in a travel guide: “A certain American once said, that to obtain money a Natalian would skin a cat” (South Africa: A Sketch Book, 1884, by James Stanley Little).

Meanwhile, the notion of skinning cats underwent a change in American usage. A new expression, “there is more than one way to skin a cat” (and variants) came to mean “there is more than one means of achieving a given aim,” the OED says.

This is the earliest example we’ve found: “At any rate, thought I, there’s more than one way to skin a cat” (from The New York Transcript, reprinted in The Indiana American, Brookville, Jan. 15, 1836).

The question here is whether the miserly expression “to skin a cat” was the direct source of “more than one way to skin a cat.” There’s no way to know for sure, but our guess is that the first one influenced the second.

We say this because similar proverbs of the “more than one way” variety—and all meaning that there are different means of accomplishing the same goal—existed before cats became part of the expression.

Perhaps the earliest such proverb was “there are more ways to the wood than one,” dating from the early 16th century. This version (we’ve also seen “more ways to the mill”) has appeared in published writing in every century since then, including our own.

Meanwhile, dogs began showing up in 17th-century versions of the expression, as in these examples (from our own searches as well as OED citations): “ther’s more wayes to kill a Dog then hanging of him” (1640); “there are more ways of killing a dog than choking him with butter” (1829); “there are more ways than one to kill a dog” (1835).

Lo and behold, cats also crept into the expression: “There is more than one way to kill a cat” (1833); “There’s more ways of killing a cat than hanging of her” (1843); “More ways of killing a cat than choking her with cream” (1855), and so on.

What we suspect is that the appearance of cats in those various “more than one way” expressions evoked that earlier phrase about extreme stinginess, with misers so cheap they would “skin a flint” or “skin a flea” or “skin a cat.”

It seems reasonable that the two “cat” expressions were conflated. And that might explain how “more than one way to skin a cat” appeared in the 1830s.

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From wonderful Grammar Girl: In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today.

From wonderful Grammar Girl: In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today.

Listen to Grammar Girl on AppleSpotify, or wherever you enjoy podcasts.

Find the podcast here: Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Transcript, YouTube

The Podcast

In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today. “Omnishambles,” “gadget,” “boffin” and more! We’ll dispel some posh myths, and you’ll be gobsmacked by the linguistic invasion.

Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Transcript, YouTube

Thanks for reading Capturing Voices! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

XIX Corps Breaks through the Siegfried Line

XIX Corps Breaks through the Siegfried Line

In a lesser-known operation that presaged the horrors of the deadly Battle of Hürtgen Forest, the XIX Corps broke through the Siegfried Line north of Aachen, Germany, in October 1944.

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After the Allied breakout during Operation Cobra in late July 1944, the previously static situation in Normandy exploded into a rapid pursuit of the routed German troops. With Paris liberated and Brittany secured, the Allies looked to the east, beyond the Roer and Rhine Rivers to the German frontier. Optimistic that the war could end before the new year, General Dwight Eisenhower ordered offensive operations all along the front line, which stretched from the English Channel to the Mediterranean Sea.

The Allies soon found that the logistic infrastructure could not sustain the speed of their advance. Planners expected before D-Day that the beachhead would expand gradually to the east as the troops fought their way off the beaches and through France. The complex hedgerow terrain frustrated these plans, however, limiting the Allied advance to yards per day. When the breakout finally took place at Saint-Lô on July 25, the front moved so rapidly that logisticians could not repair rail lines, roads, or pipelines quickly enough to keep pace. The lack of a functioning port along the Atlantic coast only made the situation worse.

Pursuit to the German border. US Army Center of Military History.

Still, in September 1944 the situation favored the Allies, who advanced steadily, if slowly, in the face of hasty counterattacks conducted by badly understrength Wehrmacht units. By late September, however, the logistic situation grew critical, dispersal of forces made Allied attacks ineffectual, and the enemy began to recover. As the pace of the Allied advance slowed, the Wehrmacht prepared a powerful defense along the Siegfried Line, known to the Germans as the “West Wall.” This was the last line of defense standing between the Allies and the German frontier.

With fresh troops bolstering the defense of Aachen and a VII Corps attack south of the city stalled by a tenacious defense, Lieutenant General Courtney Hodges, commander of the First US Army, ordered a pause on September 22, halting offensive operations through the end of the month. The pause would give him time to reorganize his troops and develop a plan to resume the offensive in early October. To help in this effort, Lieutenant General Omar Bradley, commander of the 12th Army Group, ordered Lieutenant General William H. Simpson’s Ninth US Army to move from Brittany, France, into the line, taking up a position between the Third US Army to the south and First Army to the north. This shortened the First Army front, enabling Hodges to concentrate forces for a renewed offensive into the Aachen Gap, a stretch of armor-friendly terrain just north of Aachen, Germany.

Major General Raymond S. McLain, XIX Corps Commander. Photo: ibiblio.org

Hodges ordered Major General Raymond S. McLain, commander of XIX Corps, to prepare for the offensive. The 30th Infantry Division, commanded by Major General Leland Hobbs, would spearhead the attack along a 14-mile front stretching from Geilenkirchen in the north to Aachen in the south. Hobbs’s troops would drive east to the Roer River and then south to Aachen, reducing the Siegfried Line, clearing the area of German troops, and linking up with the 1st Infantry Division on the northern edge of Aachen. The 117th and 119th Infantry Regiments would lead the attack, fighting abreast, with the 120th in reserve. The 29th Infantry Division, recently returned to XIX Corps command after the liberation of Brest, would secure the corps’ left flank during the offensive.

Major General Leland S. Hobbs, commander of the 30th Infantry Division. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

The Siegfried Line was a formidable series of obstacles intended to bolster the defense along the German border. Defending forces, protected by steel-reinforced concrete pillboxes, trenches, and other fortifications, overwatched these obstacles. Never intended to stop an attacker on their own, the Siegfried Line increased the defender’s survivability while slowing down attacking troops, increasing their exposure to machine gun, artillery, and antitank gun fire. Once they assessed that the attacker was weakened sufficiently, the Germans would inevitably counterattack.

30th Infantry Division zone of attack. Leland Hobbs, “Breaching the Siegfried Line,” Military Review, Vol. 26, No. 3, June 1946

The Siegfried Line supplemented the natural defensive characteristics of the terrain. In the 30th Infantry Division sector, which consisted of relatively open terrain, the Wurm River presented the first natural obstacle. The Wurm was 30 feet across, with steep, muddy banks on either side, making it impassible to armor without combat engineer bridging support. Only a small portion of the line just north of Aachen lacked this water obstacle, so here the defensive belt included the only dragon’s teeth in the XIX Corps sector. Just to the east, a parallel railroad line ran through the Wurm River valley, further complicating the terrain. Finally, the center of the 30th Division sector featured a castle with a moat, situated in dense forest on hilly terrain. The Siegfried Line, three kilometers thick and dense with pillboxes, backed up these natural defenses.

Dragon’s teeth, one of the most recognizable obstacles used in the Siegfried Line, near Wissembourg, France. Courtesy The National WWII Museum

The Germans built the Siegfried Line from 1939–40, so they designed the pillboxes around the most prevalent weapons of that time: the machine gun and the underpowered 37 mm antitank gun. This meant the pillboxes were too small to house more modern weapons like the feared 88 mm antitank gun. Still, they presented a serious challenge to the enemy, supplementing the trenches, foxholes, minefields, and antitank obstacles making up the defense.

To prepare, Hobbs rotated his troops out of the line in the period preceding the attack so that they could conduct training. Planners built a large terrain model—a detailed representation of the terrain and the obstacle belt—with each pillbox in its confirmed location. Soldiers prepared diligently, learning how to spot concealed or disguised pillboxes, and practicing detailed procedures for reducing them. This training was essential, enabling the GIs to react instinctively to the demands of the mission.

Plan view of a typical Siegfried Line pillbox. XIX Corps, US Army, “Breaching the Siegfried Line,” 12 January 1945, Combined Arms Research Library, Call Number N-7623.

Both field artillery preparatory fires and an aerial bombardment preceded the attack. Beginning on September 26, the 258th Field Artillery Battalion’s M12 155 mm self-propelled guns pummeled the German fortifications daily. Unfortunately, post-battle damage assessment revealed that only the 155 mm or 8-inch howitzer could penetrate the reinforced concrete pillboxes, and they could do so only after scoring three to five direct hits. Artillery proved effective mostly in forcing German defenders to remain in their pillboxes, or in causing the surrender of the demoralized occupants of a pillbox who experienced a direct hit. Therefore, after nearly a week of artillery bombardment, most of the fortifications remained intact.

Camouflaged German pillbox. XIX Corps, US Army, “Breaching the Siegfried Line,” 12 January 1945, Combined Arms Research Library, Call Number N-7623.

On the morning of the attack, October 2, the focus of the artillery shifted to counter-antiaircraft (AA) fire in support of the aerial bombardment. The guns of both the XIX and VII Corps artillery targeted AA positions, their precise locations confirmed by aerial reconnaissance. These fire missions were highly effective at suppressing or destroying the AA batteries, resulting in zero losses of Allied planes. The results of the aerial bombardment were less impressive, however. Most of the medium bombers approached the target area from the west, rather than from the southwest, as intended. This created confusion among the bombardiers, most of whom did not release their loads. The fighter bombers dropped napalm on the pillboxes, aided by the placement of red smoke near their targets, but this, too, had limited effect. It would be up to the infantry and their supporting arms to reduce the fortifications in close combat.

XIX Corps Breaks Through the West Wall, 2–7 October 1944. US Army Center of Military History.

The infantry assault began at 1100, with the 117th Infantry in the north and the 119th in the south. The GIs of the 117th rushed down the hill to the Wurm River under a hail of German small arms, mortar, and artillery fire. Engineers threw specially constructed footbridges across the river in minutes, allowing the infantry to sustain its momentum, minimizing the troops’ exposure to fire. Supported by self-propelled 155 mm artillery, the infantry began the work of reducing pillboxes. By the end of the day, the 117th reached Palenberg, its objective for the day, having reduced 11 pillboxes, without armor support, at the cost of 227 casualties.

The 30th Infantry Division intelligence officer reported after the battle that the pillboxes were:

“in clusters, all inter-supporting and sited to cover each other by fire. But due to the limited traverse of their fields of fire, there seemed to always be one at least in a group, which, if reduced, permitted our men to start a circuit of the remaining pillboxes, using approaches to each succeeding one that could not be covered by fire of the remaining ones. The problem of course, was to discover the key pillbox to each cluster.[1]

For the 117th, attacking fortifications in the open, this was a relatively easy task. The 119th faced a tougher challenge, attacking up a steep slope into dense forest that was too damp to ignite with napalm. The trees made detection of pillboxes and enemy movement challenging, while making American artillery fire ineffective against the pillboxes. This forced the infantry to attempt a frontal assault into the forest, but German artillery intensified, with aerial bursts exploding in the treetops, creating deadly wooden splinters and making it impossible to install a bridge over the Wurm. The Rimburg Castle, surrounded by minefields and a moat and supported by observation posts on the high ground, further complicated the situation

Rimburg Castle, moat visible in the foreground. XIX Corps, US Army, “Breaching the Siegfried Line,” 12 January 1945, Combined Arms Research Library, Call Number N-7623.

As the XIX Corps reported in its after-action report, “The mission of the 119th in breaching the Siegfried Line soon boiled down to the job of effecting a penetration of the woods, and then cleaning out the enemy . . . after close-in fighting with opposing lines rarely getting further apart than twenty-five to fifty yards.”[2] This delayed the 119th Infantry’s advance while greatly limiting the effectiveness of their artillery and armor support.

The 2nd Armored Division crossed the Wurm and joined the fight in the northern part of the corps sector on the morning of October 3. Predictably, the relatively open terrain enabled rapid movement of the tanks, which proved mostly impervious even to the most intense artillery fire. By the end of the day, armored elements pushed through and cleared the town of Ubach. German counterattacks began the next day, but despite experiencing the most intense artillery bombardments of the war up to that point, the infantry with their supporting armor beat back these attacks. Meanwhile, the 119th Infantry cleared the Rimburg Castle by the evening of  October 3, pushing south of the castle to the railroad on the 4th.

With the 117th Infantry’s zone mostly cleared, on October 5 the focus of the attack shifted to the southeast. The 119th Infantry, reinforced by the 3rd Battalion, 120th Infantry, gradually pushed south through the woods. At 1330, Combat Command A of the 2nd Armored Division crossed the Wurm and passed through the 117th, rapidly extending the American lines to the east. The Germans launched their most powerful counterattacks on the morning of October 6, recapturing four pillboxes and forcing the 2nd Battalion, 119th Infantry, to retreat 800 yards with significant casualties. By nightfall, however, the infantry regained their initial positions as German resistance crumbled, although fighting continued until October 16, when the 30th Infantry Division made contact with the 1st Infantry Division just northeast of Aachen.

As noted in its after-action report, by October 16 the XIX Corps had destroyed the enemy positions of the Siegfried Line in their 14-mile-wide zone of attack, penetrating to a depth of six miles. Success was costly, however, especially in the south, where the 119th and 120th Infantry suffered about twice as many casualties as the 117th. Post-battle analysis revealed the difficulty of clearing the densely wooded terrain in the southern part of the corps sector. This should have informed planning for future operations, but it did not stop the Americans from attacking into the strongest portions of the Siegfried Line in the coming weeks.

Historians have argued that the Allies should have remained in the defense south of Aachen and mounted an offensive through the Aachen Gap. This would have sidestepped the Hürtgen Forest—with terrain much like that faced by the 119th and 120th Infantry—avoiding one of America’s longest and most costly battles of the war. The logic of Eisenhower’s broad front strategy, however, required Allied attacks to continue all along the line. Though intended to destroy the German army west of the Rhine River, this attritional strategy also increased Allied casualties and possibly delayed victory in the European theater for months.

ADDITIONAL READING:

Robert W. Baumer, Old Hickory: The 30th Division, the Top-Rated American Infantry Division in Europe in World War II, Lanham, MD: Stackpole, 2017.

XIX Corps, US Army, “Breaching the Siegfried Line,” 12 January 1945, Combined Arms Research Library, Call Number N-7623

CONTRIBUTOR

Dr. Mark T. Calhoun

Dr. Mark T. Calhoun is the Military Historian at the Jenny Craig Institute for the Study of War and Democracy.

Thanks for reading Capturing Voices! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

From wonderful Grammar Girl: In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today.

From wonderful Grammar Girl: In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today.

Listen to Grammar Girl on AppleSpotify, or wherever you enjoy podcasts.

Find the podcast here: Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Transcript, YouTube

The Podcast

In honor of Veterans Day, Ben Yagoda tells us tales of military words that marched from the British lexicon to American English and influence the way we speak today. “Omnishambles,” “gadget,” “boffin” and more! We’ll dispel some posh myths, and you’ll be gobsmacked by the linguistic invasion.

Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Transcript, YouTube

Thanks for reading Capturing Voices! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.