slang of the 1870s

[GEORGE THOMPSON]

        Here one is easily led to think of old colloquialisms.  "Cheese it,
the cop" was the boy's warning of the approach of a policeman, not
infrequently uttered by them to give themselves the feeling of being
engaged in an illegal activity which really did not exist.  "Cut
behind" or "hitch behind" notified a driver that a boy was stealing a
ride on the back of his vehicle, by hanging on to it or by attaching
his bob-sled.  Throwing yourself on a sled to force it into a short
run on even ground produced "belly- whoppers."  "Scizzors" were
fire-crackers that had not exploded, bent double so as to crack open,
and lighted.  "Chokers" were the high straight collars worn
especially by dudes; a "dicer" was a stiff hat; "peek-a-boo waist"
came in with the perforated blouse that afforded tiny dotted vistas
of uncovered skin.  For a while after the publication of DuMaurier's
Trilby, ladies feet were archly referred to as "trilbies."  To "skip
the tralaloo" was to take French leave.  "How's that for high?" was a
bid for commendation.  "Wouldn't that jar you?" is fairly clear for
"isn't that provoking?"  "Over the left" implied the reverse, as
"He's a fine fellow -- over the left."  "Gallus" meant something
"tip-top."  "He wouldn't tumble if a house fell down" was applied to
unobservant people.  "His name is Denis" implied that one was goner.
You were said to be "talking through your hat" when you appeared
unfamiliar with your topic.  The "boarding house reach" at the
dining-room table was supposed, in the popular idea of humor, to be
necessary in order to overcome restrictions as to food in boarding
houses.  ***
        Frank Weitenkampf, Manhattan Kaleidoscope, N. Y. & London:
Scribner's, 1947, pp. 83-84.  [writing of the 1870s, born in New York
in 1866]

        I had posted a quotation from this book some time ago, with
reference to the phrase "a plumber's idea of ***", referring to the
sort of vulgar excess an uncultivated person would suppose to be
sophisticated or high fashion.  Weitenkampf was for decades the
curator of prints at the NYPL.  His memoirs are moderately
interesting.  In particular, he mentions in several places the high
quality of the woodcuts in the National Police Gazette of the Richard
K. Fox era (the last quarter of the 19th century) and identifies some
of the artists responsible.  Given the fact that the Gazette was long
scorned (and is now admired) for vulgar excess, it is interesting
that it would have been praised by someone of Weitenkampf's
attainments.

GAT