A hundred and seventy-five years ago Sunday, the most useful expression of universal communication ever devised first appeared in print. That word is OK, and it is recognizable and pronounceable in almost every language on earth.
The explanations for the origin of OK have been as imaginative as they have been various. But the late language maven Allen Walker Read, a Columbia University professor, proved that OK did not derive from okeh, an affirmative reply in Choctaw; nor from the name of chief Old Keokuk; nor from a fellow named Orrin Kendall, who manufactured a tasty brand of army biscuit for Union soldiers in the Civil War and stamped them OK; nor from the Haitian port Aux Cayes, which produced superior rum; nor from “open key,” a telegraph term; nor from the Greek ola kalla, meaning “all good.”
Rather, as Professor Read discovered, the truth is more political than any of these theories. He tracked down the first known published appearance of OK with its current meaning in the Boston Morning Post on March 23, 1839: “The ‘Chairman of the Committee on Charity Lecture Balls’ is one of the deputation, and perhaps if he should return to Boston, via Providence, he of the Journal, and his train-band, would have the ‘contribution box,’ et ceteras, o.k.–all correct–and cause the corks to fly, like sparks, upward.”
Allen Walker Read demonstrated that OK started life as an obscure joke and through a twist of fate went to the top of the charts on the American hit parade of words. In the 1830s, in New England, there was a craze for initialisms, in the manner of LOL, OMG, aka and TGIF, so popular today.
The fad went so far as to generate letter combinations of intentionally comic misspellings: KG for “know go,” KY for “know yuse,” NSMJ for “’nough said ‘mong jentlemen” and OR for “oll rong.” OK for “oll korrect” naturally followed.
Of all those loopy initialisms and jocular misspellings OK alone survived. That’s because of a presidential nickname that consolidated the letters in the national memory. Martin Van Buren, elected our eighth president in 1836, was born in Kinderhook, N.Y., and, early in his political career, was dubbed “Old Kinderhook.”
Echoing the “oll korrect” initialism, OK became the rallying cry of the Old Kinderhook Club, a Democratic organization supporting Van Buren during the 1840 campaign. Thus, the accident of Van Buren’s birthplace rescued OK from the dustbin of history.
The coinage did Van Buren no good, and he was defeated in his bid for re-election. But OK has gone on to become what H. L. Mencken identified as “the most shining and successful Americanism ever invented.”
• • •
One Justin Weeks, a rabid University of New Mexico sports fan, threw a cup of melted ice at SDSU basketball players as they left court in their Feb. 22 game at New Mexico’s Pit. In a written statement, Weeks began his explanation and apology with “I am a lifelong UNM supporter and a proud alumni.”
Au contraire, Mr. Weeks. You are a proud alumnus. Alumni is the plural of alumnus. Here in San Diego we actually learn the difference between a singular and a plural noun. In your faces, Lobos!
• • •
Almost every San Diegan knows that the initials SDG&E stand for “San Diego Gas & Electric.” But that construction lacks parallelism. Gas is a noun and Electric is an adjective. Perhaps SDG&E should change its name to San Diego Gas & Electricity. Or to San Diego Gaseous & Electric. Then again, maybe not.
• • •
Have you heard the song about a body of water that flows in the peninsula that Russia has recently invaded?: Crimea River. (“I’ll cry a river over you.”)
I’ll be speaking on “The Gift of Age” at the Longevity Fair (Del Mar Fairgrounds) on Saturday, March 29, at 11:30 a.m. I’ll be hanging out there that day, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., and Sunday, March 30, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. I’d love to meet you at the fair.
Please send your questions and comments about language to richard.lederer@utsandiego.com