This is a comma use that comes up very frequently when transcribing Oral Histories, as cities and locations in general hold significant sway over people’s narratives. This CMOS article clarifies whether the widely-installed comma between city and state is always necessary and discusses some interesting considerations to keep in mind.

The comma between city and state—or, following the same principle, between city and province or city and country—is so thoroughly inscribed in the written record that most editors don’t give it a second thought.

But what, exactly, is that comma doing? And is it always necessary, no matter the context?

An Organizing Comma

The comma separating the name of a city from the name of a state or other region is, first and foremost, an organizing comma. It allows readers to distinguish the two entities as belonging to different categories:

Chicago, Illinois
London, Ontario
London, England

That’s one of the roles played by this comma, but there’s a second principle at work.

An Abbreviated Relative Clause

When a comma sets off a state or province or country from a city, it introduces an abbreviated relative clause. Here’s how that works:

I live in Chicago, Illinois.

is equivalent to

I live in Chicago, in Illinois.

or, stated more fully,

I live in Chicago, which is in Illinois.

The relative clause as spelled out in that last example—“which is in Illinois”—is nonrestrictive, or parenthetical. A parenthetical relative clause is set off with a comma (or two in the middle of a sentence) and introduced by the relative pronoun “which” (or a form of “who,” as when referring to a person rather than a city; see CMOS 6.27).

The clause is parenthetical because the information it provides is optional; specifically, you don’t need it to identify the noun to which it refers. And if I say I live in Chicago, you should know where that is. The name of the state (Illinois) may help some readers, but it isn’t essential.*

Parenthetical or Essential?

Chicago, however, is unique (or very nearly so). For many other cities, the name of the state might be restrictive, or essential.

For example, if I said I visited Portland, would you know what I’m talking about?

If you knew somehow that my visit coincided with the coast of New England in the United States, then you’d probably know what I meant. Without sufficient context, however, the identity of Portland would be in doubt. I could be referring to Portland Maine or Portland Oregon, among other Portlands.

As an editor following Chicago or practically any other style, however, I would be obliged to go back and add three commas—of the organizing kind—to that last sentence (see CMOS 6.39 and 10.29):

I could be referring to Portland, Maine, or Portland, Oregon, among other Portlands.

Those commas—all three of them (or four, if you count the one after “Oregon,” which, if it weren’t busy setting off the prepositional phrase at the end of the sentence, might still be required)—are not only cumbersome (they risk appearing at first to set up a series rather than a pair of alternatives), but they break the rule that says not to use commas with essential relative clauses.

Here’s how that works in this case:

I could be referring to Portland Maine or Portland Oregon, among other Portlands.

is equivalent to

I could be referring to the Portland in Maine or the Portland in Oregon, among other Portlands.

or, stated more fully,

I could be referring to the Portland that is in Maine or the Portland that is in Oregon, among other Portlands.

Essential relative clauses, including the two in that last example, typically begin with “that” (though “which” is common in British English, and a form of “who” may be used when the reference is to a person), and they’re not set off with commas.

Unlike parenthetical relative clauses, an essential relative clause can’t be deleted without obscuring the identity of the noun to which it refers. Try it: “I could be referring to Portland or Portland, among other Portlands.” Without the state names, that sentence doesn’t make any sense.

Possessive Avoidance

There are lots of potential Portlands, from London, Ontario, and London, England, to Duluth, Minnesota, and Duluth, Georgia. If a city has a name, chances are good it’s not the only city with that name.

So what’s wrong with leaving out the comma? Not only is there no ambiguity in a reference to Miami Florida or Paris Texas, but omitting the comma would spare us from some awkward constructions, chief among them the possessive: Miami Florida’s skyline is a lot easier to like than Miami, Florida’s, skyline—or, if you prefer, Miami, Florida’s skyline.

If it were up to me, the comma would be optional for just that reason. But it’s not, so I follow Chicago’s advice to rewrite as needed to avoid the possessive (e.g., “the Miami, Florida, skyline” or “the skyline of Miami, Florida”; see also CMOS 6.43 and 6.44).

Another Loophole, or Maybe Two

There is, however, a third principle at work here. A city and state are like the first and last names of a person. A surname isn’t a state, but it does name a family, and a person could be said to belong to a family just as a city belongs to a state. So why not Bob Dylan from Duluth Minnesota?

And one more: If the comma’s organizing role is so important, then certainly it could be dropped when referring to Duluth, MN, or London, ON, or London, UK. Those two-letter abbreviations in all caps clearly belong to a different category from the spelled-out cities, without any help from the commas.

Back to Reality

It would be wrong to leave out the well-established “City, State” comma in formally edited prose. Readers have come to expect that comma, so its absence would be more of a distraction than its presence. Not that I wouldn’t be prepared to make an exception for two cities with the same name mentioned in an either-or scenario (as in the Portland/Portland example). But that’s a special case.

When the state or province or country is abbreviated, on the other hand, commas can seem like overkill. You’d think they could simply be omitted, as Chicago and others decided to do decades ago with Jr. and Sr. in people’s names, a roughly parallel scenario. But don’t worry, that’s not about to happen—not unless you count the style long preferred by the US Postal Service for addresses on mailing labels.

Interviewer: All right, Gene, and when and where were you born.

Gene: The Bronx, New York, 1917 to 1924.

Interviewer: All right, Gene, and when and where were you born.

Gene: The Bronx, New York, 1917 to 1924.

When crafting sentences, writers often face the dilemma of choosing between these two words to create clear and concise expressions. This article explores the distinctions between “which” and “that,” unraveling their unique roles in sentence structure and providing practical examples to enhance your writing skills.

In Modern English Usage (1926), Fowler argues the case for limiting that to what he calls “defining clauses” and reserving which to introduce “non-defining clauses.”

Note: Fowler’s terms defining and non-defining correspond to restrictive and nonrestrictive.

Yet, here we are, more than 80 years later, and questions about when to use which and when to use that to introduce a clause are among those most commonly asked at this and other grammar sites.

The usual explanation begins like this:

THAT should be used to introduce a restrictive clause.

WHICH should be used to introduce a non-restrictive clause.

For starters, let’s look at the terms restrictive and nonrestrictive. In my own experience of learning grammar, I had a hard time trying to keep these terms straight. Perhaps I have too much imagination, but I kept thinking that the “restrictive clause” was the one that ought to have the commas, because, well, commas enclose things, don’t they? And enclosing something restricts it, no?

The editors of the Associated Press Stylebook must be aware of mindsets like mine because they reject the terms restrictive and nonrestrictive in favor of essential and nonessential:

These terms [essential and nonessential] are used in this book instead of restrictive…and nonrestrictive… to convey the distinction between the two in a more easily remembered manner. –AP Stylebook

These alternative terms certainly make it easier for me remember the distinction. The word essential means “absolutely necessary.” An “essential clause” is critical to the reader’s understanding of what the author has in mind; a “nonessential clause” is perhaps helpful or interesting, but can be omitted without altering the principal meaning of the sentence. Ergo, the nonessential clause is the one that gets the commas.

The nonessential clause is also the one that gets the which.

Mind you, using which to introduce an essential clause is not the unpardonable sin some readers–chiefly American–insist that it is. Writers of British English often use which to introduce an essential clause. Here are just two examples from sources committed to the dissemination of impeccable English:

We may link to external sites which give particular views of a person or organisation significant to a current news story… –BBC style manual.

The Royal Charter which governs our work sets out the objects for which we exist. –British Council website.

In the first example, particular sites are meant; in the second, a particular royal charter is being referred to. Both of these which clauses are restrictive/essential.

Banning the use of which to introduce essential clauses is a stylistic decision, not a grammatical necessity. Even the premier American style guide admits as much:

Although which can be substituted for that in a restrictive clause (a common practice in British English), many writers preserve the distinction between restrictive that (with no commas) and nonrestrictive which (with commas). –Chicago Manual of Style, 6.22.

That Chicago does not approve of using which to introduce an essential (restrictive) clause is made clear in the section titled “Good usage versus common usage”:

In polished American prose, that is used restrictively to narrow a category or identify a particular item being talked about: “any building that is taller must be outside the state”; which is used nonrestrictively—not to narrow a class or identify a particular item but to add something about an item already identified: “alongside the officer trotted a toy poodle, which is hardly a typical police dog.”–CMOS

That for essential clauses and which for nonessential clauses is without question the preferred American usage. And although which is still being used in British English to introduce some essential clauses, according to at least one British style guide, that is edging it out:

Restrictive [i.e., essential] clauses relating to things may begin with either that or which, although there is an increasing tendency for that to be preferred. – Penguin Writer’s Manual, p. 32.

Here are some sentences that reflect the preferred that/which usage:

The car that I want is out of my price range. (essential clause)
The car, which is only two years old, sold for $2,000. (nonessential clause)

The kitten that has white paws is the one I want. (essential clause)
The kitten, which was Jack’s favorite, never came back. (nonessential clause)

When crafting sentences, writers often face the dilemma of choosing between these two words to create clear and concise expressions. This article explores the distinctions between “which” and “that,” unraveling their unique roles in sentence structure and providing practical examples to enhance your writing skills.

In Modern English Usage (1926), Fowler argues the case for limiting that to what he calls “defining clauses” and reserving which to introduce “non-defining clauses.”

Note: Fowler’s terms defining and non-defining correspond to restrictive and nonrestrictive.

Yet, here we are, more than 80 years later, and questions about when to use which and when to use that to introduce a clause are among those most commonly asked at this and other grammar sites.

The usual explanation begins like this:

THAT should be used to introduce a restrictive clause.

WHICH should be used to introduce a non-restrictive clause.

For starters, let’s look at the terms restrictive and nonrestrictive. In my own experience of learning grammar, I had a hard time trying to keep these terms straight. Perhaps I have too much imagination, but I kept thinking that the “restrictive clause” was the one that ought to have the commas, because, well, commas enclose things, don’t they? And enclosing something restricts it, no?

The editors of the Associated Press Stylebook must be aware of mindsets like mine because they reject the terms restrictive and nonrestrictive in favor of essential and nonessential:

These terms [essential and nonessential] are used in this book instead of restrictive…and nonrestrictive… to convey the distinction between the two in a more easily remembered manner. –AP Stylebook

These alternative terms certainly make it easier for me remember the distinction. The word essential means “absolutely necessary.” An “essential clause” is critical to the reader’s understanding of what the author has in mind; a “nonessential clause” is perhaps helpful or interesting, but can be omitted without altering the principal meaning of the sentence. Ergo, the nonessential clause is the one that gets the commas.

The nonessential clause is also the one that gets the which.

Mind you, using which to introduce an essential clause is not the unpardonable sin some readers–chiefly American–insist that it is. Writers of British English often use which to introduce an essential clause. Here are just two examples from sources committed to the dissemination of impeccable English:

We may link to external sites which give particular views of a person or organisation significant to a current news story… –BBC style manual.

The Royal Charter which governs our work sets out the objects for which we exist. –British Council website.

In the first example, particular sites are meant; in the second, a particular royal charter is being referred to. Both of these which clauses are restrictive/essential.

Banning the use of which to introduce essential clauses is a stylistic decision, not a grammatical necessity. Even the premier American style guide admits as much:

Although which can be substituted for that in a restrictive clause (a common practice in British English), many writers preserve the distinction between restrictive that (with no commas) and nonrestrictive which (with commas). –Chicago Manual of Style, 6.22.

That Chicago does not approve of using which to introduce an essential (restrictive) clause is made clear in the section titled “Good usage versus common usage”:

In polished American prose, that is used restrictively to narrow a category or identify a particular item being talked about: “any building that is taller must be outside the state”; which is used nonrestrictively—not to narrow a class or identify a particular item but to add something about an item already identified: “alongside the officer trotted a toy poodle, which is hardly a typical police dog.”–CMOS

That for essential clauses and which for nonessential clauses is without question the preferred American usage. And although which is still being used in British English to introduce some essential clauses, according to at least one British style guide, that is edging it out:

Restrictive [i.e., essential] clauses relating to things may begin with either that or which, although there is an increasing tendency for that to be preferred. – Penguin Writer’s Manual, p. 32.

Here are some sentences that reflect the preferred that/which usage:

The car that I want is out of my price range. (essential clause)
The car, which is only two years old, sold for $2,000. (nonessential clause)

The kitten that has white paws is the one I want. (essential clause)
The kitten, which was Jack’s favorite, never came back. (nonessential clause)

Have you ever wondered about the origins of this intriguing saying or how to use it effectively in your daily conversations? This article explores the historical context of “putting the kibosh” and its various interpretations across different scenarios.

Have you ever heard someone say they were going to “put the kibosh” on something? Did you ever wonder what they meant, or what a “kibosh” is?

Believe it or not, this has been a long-standing mystery of the English language. Multiple theories have been proposed, but none could be proven. Recently, however, three scholars seem to have gotten to the bottom of it. (2)

Here’s the story.

‘To put the kibosh’ on means to shut something down

First of all, to “put the kibosh” on something means you’re shutting it down. You’re putting the lid on a plan before it can take off. Or you’re stopping an activity that’s already underway.

For example, parents might “put the kibosh” on their teenager’s plan to throw a wild party. Or a librarian might “put the kibosh” on patrons who are munching on burgers and fries while they’re handling books.

This word first showed up in print in 1826, in a London newspaper. And not too long after, etymologists started speculating about where it came from.

5 (probably debunked) theories on the origin of ‘kibosh’

Theory number one was that “kibosh” was of Yiddish origin; that it was related to the Hebrew word “kāḇaš,” meaning to subject, subdue, or tread down. (9)

Theory two was that it was related to the Turkish word “bosh,” meaning “empty or worthless.” That word came into fashion around the same time that “kibosh” did, in the 1830s. It appeared in a popular romance titled “opens in a new windowAyesha, Maid of Kars,” that told of the intrigues of female life in Turkey. (7,8,9)

To see this connection, you can image a stodgy English gentleman saying “Bosh! Stuff and nonsense!” about the butler’s plan to serve bread and butter with tea, instead of cake. And the gentleman saying he would “put the kibosh” on that plan straightaway.

Theory three is that “kibosh” comes from the Gaelic “caidhp bháis,” meaning “coif of death.” This referred to various things: the hood an executioner wore when he mounted the scaffold; the head covering a judge wore when pronouncing the death sentence; or the cap put on a body before it was buried.

It was also connected to a gruesome form of torture known as a “pitch-cap,” in which a hat filled with boiling tar was placed on someone’s head. This cruel technique was used by the English military during the Irish rebellion of 1798. Game of Thrones fans will see an analogy between the pitch-cap and the “golden crown” that Khal Drogo placed on Viserys’ head. (5,6,9)

Theory four is that “kibosh” comes from the French word “caboche,” an informal word for head, and the English word “caboshe” that came from it. To “caboshe” means to cut off the head of a deer right behind the horns—not keeping any neck at all! You could see how this violent verb could be extended to mean beheading any sort of idea at all.  (5,6,9)

Theory five is that this word came from a tool that shoemakers used when making clogs. Their “kibosh” was an “iron bar about a foot long that, when hot, [was] used to soften and smooth leather.” A long, heated, metal bar would indeed be effective at kiboshing just about anything. Nonetheless, the scholar who first proposed this theory has pretty much admitted he no longer thinks it is correct. (1,5,6,9)

The current theory on the origin of ‘kibosh’: it’s related to an Arabic word for ‘whip’

Theory six—and the one that now seems to be most reliable— is that “kibosh” can be traced to the Arabic word “qurbāsh,” a whip made of hide. (2) It was sometimes made of hippopotamus or rhinoceros hide, and in all cases, it was used as an instrument of punishment. This Arabic word could have been brought to England by immigrants. That would make sense, because the first uses of the word seem to have been in the lower classes of London.

As to why “kibosh” rose from being just another slang term, to a phrase we still use today, is suggested by three scholars who recently published an entire book on the word “kibosh.”

The authors relate how in 1834, a Cockney chap was brought into court for violating the 1834 Chimney Sweeps Act, a law intended to stop young children from being put into service as chimney sweeps. According to the book, the fellow had an outburst after the trial in which he complained about the British Whig party and used the expression “to put the kibosh on,” speaking the whole time in an “unmistakable Cockney accent.”

His words were reprinted in newspapers all over England, and soon all types of politicians were talking about “putting the kibosh on the Whigs.” (2,3)

The word has continued to be popular up through today. In fact, opens in a new windowa search of Google Ngrams, which shows how frequently words are used in books, shows “kibosh” being used regularly since the mid-1800s—and spiking in use since 1980.

In short, recent scholars have “put the kibosh” on older theories of where this word came from. Our best guess today is that it’s related to “qurbāsh,” an Arabic word for “whip.”