Of Course I Know Where It Came From.
My Uncle Invented It.

Dear Evan: You wouldn’t happen to know the origin of the use of the word “Uncle” as a term to indicate surrender, would you? — Anthony.

Ignoring for the moment the lack of confidence in me implicit in the phrasing of your question, I’ll just say, “Yes I do. I think I do, anyway.” Actually, there are several theories about “uncle,” which, incidentally, I am asked about every six months or so. If there were a Hall of Fame for word origin questions, “uncle” would be a shoo-in.

The last time someone asked about “uncle,” I mentioned a marvelous book called “The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren,” an exhaustive study of schoolyard rituals and folklore in Great Britain written by Iona and Peter Opie and published by Oxford University Press. I was somewhat surprised to discover the Opies do not list the “cry uncle” ritual in their book. A quick check of the New Shorter Oxford dictionary, however, revealed that “cry uncle” is largely a North American ritual.

Checking other sources for the origins of “cry uncle” does provide support for one of the Opies’ most interesting assertions, that childhood games and rituals are often hundreds, and in some cases thousands, of years old. It seems that while “crying uncle” is today regarded as an Americanism, its origins go all the way back to the Roman Empire. Roman children, when beset by a bully, would be forced to say “Patrue, mi Patruissimo,” or “Uncle, my best Uncle,” in order to surrender and be freed.

As to precisely “why” bullies force their victims to “cry uncle,” opinions vary. It may be that the ritual is simply a way of making the victim call out for help from a grownup, thus proving his or her helplessness. Alternatively, it may have started as a way of forcing the victim to grant the bully a title of respect — in Roman times, your father’s brother was accorded nearly the same power and status as your father. The form of “uncle” used in the Latin phrase (“patrue”) tends to support this theory, inasmuch as it specifically denoted your paternal uncle, as opposed to the brother of your mother (“avunculus”), who occupied a somewhat lower rung in patrilineal Roman society.

A while back, a reader wrote in to ask the origin of the name “Idaho.” In my answer, I noted that “Idaho” comes from “Idahi,” which is what the Kiowa-Apache tribe called their Comanche neighbors, and that, curiously enough, “Idaho” was first proposed as a name for what is now the state of Colorado. On the other hand, for some reason, folks originally wanted to call what is now Idaho “Montana.” There seemed to be something fishy about the whole “Idaho” business, and I suggested in my column that the State of Idaho might, in fact, be a figment of a lazy mapmaker’s imagination. According to the following letter, I am not alone in this opinion, and I think one of those nifty Congressional investigations is definitely called for to investigate this “Idaho” hoax.

Hello, Evan: I was looking through your previous columns, and came across one you wrote about the origin of the word “Idaho. In it you suggest that the state of Idaho does not actually exist. This reminded me of a professor, Dr. Hommon, who taught (and perhaps still teaches) Western Civilization at Central Connecticut University. On the first day of class, he would tell us that Idaho does not exist. To prove his point, he would then ask if anyone in the class was from Idaho. Nobody ever raised a hand. Dr. Hommon insisted that all of those “Idaho potatoes” were actually from Maine, and truckloads of potatoes were driven from Maine out to somewhere in the Midwest, where people would paint “Idaho” on them, then turn the trucks around and drive them back east.

Now that I’ve moved to Colorado, I find it harder to convince people that Idaho isn’t real. I’ve even seen license plates that say “Scenic Idaho – Famous Potatoes.” Now if that slogan doesn’t convince you the whole thing is a hoax, nothing will! — Jen Philion, Boulder, CO.