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Over the months since then, other missives regarding outhouses (or similar subjects) have come to my attention, in one way or another. Now, while this blog is about the Philippines, most of you who are familiar with me know that I cannot resist stepping sideways now and then. If you are reading this because of the Philippine issues, be aware that other than the first paragraph, there are no other Philippine mentionings in this chapter (so, if you want to ignore this, be my guest).
For example, my friend Nora responded with this:
'I don’t think I’d like a snake living under my outhouse (or my neighbor’s), even if it only eats once a month! (We actually had a working outhouse, too, growing up on the farm—my dad was the only one who used it regularly—but ours was special as it had a tiny hole in the door behind the toilet paper roll and when the sun came up in the morning and shown through the hole, the house appeared upside down in living color on the toilet paper! A simple “camera obscura”, but pretty cool.) '
My sister, who lives in Sheboygan, forwarded me this url, obviously proud of Sheboygan's accomplishment:
http://www.digitalcity.com/2009/05/07/best-public-restrooms-in-america/
I frequently receive a report from a site called The Straight Dope and today, May 31, I received the June 2, 2009 entry, which, amazingly enough, follows the subject. I am copying it in its entirety, probably an illegal move on my part, but I am hoping Cecil has a good heart (I am placing a line _______ above and below the quote):
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A Staff Report from the Straight Dope Science Advisory Board
Why is it called a restroom, anyway?
June 2, 2009
Dear Cecil,
Why would anyone want to rest in a room with a toilet? Or why would anyone move a toilet into a room of rest? And toilets used to be smellier than they are now, I'm sure. Who was the idiot who thought of this?
—Willie MacDougal, Whittier, California
Dex replies:
Of course no one wants to rest in the room containing the toilet; restroom is an obvious euphemism. Interestingly, English (like some other languages) can express the "toilet-room" concept only via indirect terms like this. The French are more straightforward – pissoir means “place to piss” – but English has no similarly unadorned word aside from shithouse, which is not exactly usable in most conversation. Cecil addressed this phenomenon back in 1985, but now seems like a fine opportunity to work our way through the long list of toilet euphemisms and their origins, so far as is known. We’ll take them alphabetically:
John. One of the the most common American euphemisms; Cecil's also discussed this one in some depth. In 1735 a Harvard regulation referred to a toilet enclosure using the term cuzjohn, an abbreviation of “cousin John.” Even earlier terms included jakes (from the late 1530s, meaning a chamber pot) and Jack’s house or Jack's place. By the 1800s there were several different proper names in use: the Joe, the Jane, the Fred, Miss White’s, or the Widow Jones. Of interest: john also, of course, means a prostitute’s client (since at least 1906) but in the 1800s meant policeman – an abbreviation for "John Darm," a pun on the French gendarme.
Ladies' room and gentlemen’s room. Probably the most polite of the several designations for public toilets; also seen as just ladies and gents, boys’ room and girls’ room, and other sex-differentiated variations. (Crime-caper author Donald Westlake in one novel describes a NYC bar that uses “Pointers” and “Setters.") The terms nowadays tend to be the less formal (and less class-conscious) women’s room and men’s room.
Latrine. Usually used to mean a military toilet. Via French, ultimately from the Latin lavare meaning "to wash." The OED cites 1642 as the earliest use found in English.
Lavatory. Also from the Latin lavare, also via French. Middle Latin has lavatorium meaning washbasin, or a washing room in a monastery or convent. Thus since the 1300s a lavatory was a place to wash one’s hands. It therefore became a natural euphemism for the place where one does things that require hand washing afterwards; this development seemingly dates from the mid- to late 1800s. The Brits sometimes abbreviate it, calling it the lav or the lavvy. Like toilet, lavatory can mean the room or the device.
Loo. This is a British euphemism that’s been taken up by other English speakers. Cecil addressed this earlier, in his column on the john, but we include it here for completeness's sake. Its origin isn't known for sure, although it's probably just from the French l’eau, meaning “water.” Another possible origin is bordalou, a portable ladies’ privy looking something like a gravy boat and carried in a muff. There was also a medieval expression gardyloo, probably derived from the French guardez l’eau, meaning “watch out for the water!” – which is what one might yell to alert passers-by when one was tossing slops out the window. Another possible origin for loo, although less likely, is from the French lieu meaning “place,” as in lieu d’aisance, a French term for toilet. There are also highly improbable stories of loo's arising from the name of a hated countess Louise or from the battle of Waterloo. However, the OED does cite some wordplay from Ulysses (1922) in which Joyce juxtaposes “Waterloo" and "watercloset.”
Restroom. Originally meaning a public toilet, this seems to be of American origin, with the earliest usages found around 1900. It’s an extremely common usage, and also one of the vaguest. Rest of course has a number of meanings, but this is probably in the sense of "repose" or "refreshing oneself." A slight variation is retiring room, a lovely upper-class Briticism from the 1930s.
Toilet. This too is ultimately a euphemism, from the French toilette meaning “dressing room,” from toile meaning “cloth.” In the 17th century, the toilet was the process of getting dressed – powdering one's wig and so forth. In the 18th century, a toilet call was a social interaction in which a lady received visitors while she was in the last stages of performing her toilet. By the 19th century, we have toilet articles, toilet pail (a bucket to hold slops), and toilet paper (used for shaving, hair curling, etc). The term toilet room seems to have been American in origin, from the late 1800s, and thence abbreviated to simply toilet. Again, the word can mean both the room and the device.
Wash room. An Americanism from around 1850. “I was washing my hands” was a polite way to avoid describing what one was doing in there for so long. The term arose around the same time that lavatory was being used for the same place.
Water closet or WC. British. The water closet was the room with the toilet, whereas the bathroom was the room with the bathtub. (Don’t get me started on how disgusting it is that we now typically combine these.) Water closets date from the mid-1700s but didn’t become common until somewhat later. In 1814 John Phair wrote a book called Observations on the Principle and Construction of Water-Closets, Chimneys, and Bell-Hanging (not such a weird combination if you consider that bell wires were usually hung along water-closet pipes). By the late 1850s it was very modern and fashionable and convenient in England to have an indoor water closet, and indoor plumbing became the rage. The WC was often located off the landing halfway up the stairs from the first to the second story (hence the alternate term “halfway house").
Some others, not all of them commonly used today:
• Can or cabinet. Possibly originally referring to the toilet with a replaceable container or can beneath the seat. Dates to roughly 1914.
• Comfort station or comfort room. These arose around 1900. In 1978 New York City implemented “canine comfort stations” in response to the dog poop problem.
• The Facilities. A nice, formal, polite way around the problem.
• Necessary Room or necessaries. Used in the early 1700s, obviously long before indoor plumbing. There were also “necessary houses," "necessary stools," etc.
• Outhouse. A smaller building near the dwelling house and “used for some subsidiary purpose,” according to the OED of 1904, “e.g., a stable, barn, washhouse, toolhouse, or the like.” I guess “or the like” is itself a euphemism.
• Privy. Usually refers to a separate structure, an outdoor toilet; in use as of the 1300s. The term generally meant "something private, intimate, or concealed."
• Throne. Originally used to refer to a chamber pot, and thence to a toilet. As of 1922 people were referring to the room containing the throne as the “throne room." However, the antecedents are ancient: I came across a reference in the Talmud, certainly written before 600 AD, describing someone going to the "house of the chair."
Finally, the powder room was originally the place on a ship where the ammunition and gunpowder were stored. However, in the era of makeup, it was the place a woman went to “powder her nose.” This became a way to describe what Hugh Rawson calls “a private errand involving neither powder nor nose” The OED locates the earliest published usage of this phrase in 1941. Rawson also quotes from Edward Albee's Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1962):
HONEY: I want to… put some powder on my nose.
GEORGE: Martha, won’t you show her where we keep the euphemism?
My own personal anecdote: At age seven or so, our daughter told us, very seriously, that the dog had “powdered his nose on the living room carpet.” It took us a moment or two to figure out what the hell she meant.
—DexStraight Dope Science Advisory Board
Staff Reports are written by the Straight Dope Science Advisory Board, Cecil's online auxiliary. Though the SDSAB does its best, these columns are edited by Ed Zotti, not Cecil, so accuracywise you'd better keep your fingers crossed.
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And, my personal anecdote regarding the term 'loo':
While living and working in Europe, I was told (not by the Brits, and certainly not by the French) that the word 'loo' meaning restroom was coined at the time that the Brits attacked the French at Waterloo. The story goes that the French were so afraid that they pissed in their pants, therefore 'loo'. Many of the Brits I told this story to were a) thrilled; b) stunned; c) uncertain.
Now, to get to the bottom of this report, it has now come to my attention, given the various stories above, plus more, that the common knowledge of the outhouse is becoming rather unknown. There are many stories out there, only some of which I am aware of, and they are being threatened with extinction. I am proposing that we, as responsible citizens of the world, endeavor to capture these stories for the benefit of our future descendents.
I have a couple first-hand stories.
My parents purchased a place in Wisconsin Dells in the late 1960's. On the premises was a single seat outhouse, but a very unusual one. This particular outhouse did not require a pit to be dug, as it had a drawer underneath the single seat. Presumably one removed the drawer and emptied it out over the neighbor's fence.
At the age of 18, my parents and I traveled to northern Minnesota for the single purpose of me purchasing a wood-strip runabout. We arrived at the location, a small but isolated lake, and found that there were only 4 homes around the entire lake, although it was large enough to place a minimum of 200 homes, had the land been subdivided. A beautiful lake, unspoiled, a natural lake with the surrounding land on a fairly large upgrade from the surface of the lake. At the cabin where we stayed (belonging to family friends) we found the outhouse to be situated some 40 yards up the hill. Amazingly, the outhouse was a 4 seater. I had never before or since heard of a 4 seater. One's mind conjures the various reasons why this was built to accomodate 4 people at once.
However, when it came time to put this facility to use, alone, I found out why this structure was built the way it was. While pondering the future, I noticed a rope and started to pull on it.
The entire front of the outhouse lifted up to provide the most beautiful sight of the lake. While I sat there, I could see the footsteps of a deer running across the opposite shore. I couldn't see the deer, but, each splash of the feet and the speed made it obvious it was a deer. Of all the times one wished to have a camera, that was one, although I am sure comments would have been made had one carried a camera to the outhouse.
I also remember during high school, surpisingly, around Halloween, that one of our teachers, David Cox, had his yard papered, and someone tipped his outhouse over (ok, not very original, nor was the moving of the Volkswagon in front of the school, but, nothing vicious was done back then). Now, that was only a story that I heard, and I categorically deny any involvement whatsoever. Perhaps one of my classmates was responsible?
Now, the following story is not an outhouse story, but, I came to favor this particular loo during my stays in Dublin, hense my reporting of this occurance. Almost every time I came to Dublin, which probably counts in the 300's believe it or not, I stayed at a hotel called Bloom's. Now, Bloom's is not your ordinary hotel, not like hotels you may be used to in America, for example. Bloom's was probably in its heyday in the 30's, 40's. While there are many hotels in Dublin, Bloom's was my choice because of location, and more importantly, the people that worked there. I spent many an hour in the pub, and have quite a few stories about my experiences. I will share two of them here, only one of which directly involves a restroom.
The first story goes as follows, and I swear it is true, and if there are any employees who are still around from that time can attest to it. Very late one night, having been held prisoner in the pub, I finally escaped and went to my room. I entered the elevator and got out on the 4th floor. Fortunately my room was quite close to the elevator, so negotiating the expanse was not in question. I plunged my key into the lock, twisted it and entered the room. I got into the room the required 4 feet, and looked to my bed. To my amazement, a naked young lady was reclining nicely, fully awake with a curious look on her face.
While I was saying my prayers, the rest room behind me suddenly resounded with rushing water. As I turned to investigate, a naked young man walked out. We looked at each other, and finally I asked him 'What are you doing in my room?' He asked me 'What are you doing in my room?" I showed him my room key, which said 410. He said 'This room is 310.'
I had not embarked on the fourth floor as intended.
I turned to the naked young lady, who had a huge grin on her face, and apologized. I then apologized to the naked young man, and left.
The next morning, when descending to the front desk, 3 different employees inquired as to my evening's activities, the lady and man in question having told the story.
Apparently years ago it was customary to key the rooms alike from one floor to another (obviously not mentioning this fact to the occupants).
Now, the pub at Bloom's had a restroom for the gents. In this restroom one did not find the typical urinal, but a trough. Above this trough, right at eye level, the day's papers were posted, and in order to read the paper from start to finish, one started at the far left at the early hours of the evening, gradually progressing to the right in order not to miss any important news of the day.
Ok folks, if you have any outhouse stories (nice ones now, ones we can share with the family), or other rest room stories (adhering to the above rule) here is your opportunity to etch these stories in perpetuity for future generations. Just place a comment on this blog!
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