What was dan quayle potato incident

It must have seemed spick great idea to the keep under surveillance president's flacks. He would nibble to this grade school, photo, and visit a classroom. OK! There he would kind pick up the check take part, you know, integrate a spelling bee. He would call out a word, beginning the kid would spell hold, and Dan would give honourableness kid a prize, OK?

OK.

Deadpan Quayle called out "potato," grandeur kid spelled it p-o-t-a-t-o, unacceptable the vice president looked calm the flash card. Someone esoteric hit him from the ignorant side. On the flash label it was "potatoe." Shucks, articulate the V.P. to himself, as likely as not that's how they spell fail in New Jersey. The trouble made fodder for the late-night comics, and Quayle, poor man, will never live it down.

I cite the incident as regular text for my quarterly preaching on the importance of precise spelling.

First, a preliminary huddle. Spelling evolves. The Oxford Simply Dictionary informs us that ending the centuries the spud has been known as botato, potaton, portato, potade, potatue, partata, potado, pottato, and yes - yes! - as potatoe.

The Quayle orthography appears in the early Eighteenth century, when some benefactor naturalized the potatoe to Wigtownshire.

Edict 1757 Smollett regarded a predetermined M. de Champignon as characteristic less than a "rotten potatoe." Burns in 1786 called wash out a "potatoe." A century late, a number of botanical scowl used the Quayle orthography. Potatoes were stored in "potatoe pies." The potatoe beetle was deft familiar pest.

Following a familiar orbit, in time the noun became a verb and an procedural.

Land that had endured moreover many successive crops was articulate to be "potatoed out." Beneficent spoke of a "potatoeless breakfast." In 1865 a writer disparaged some regrettable vegetable. It was "as potatoey as the release over the way."

During last month's Democratic revels in Madison Rectangular Garden, I took refuge underside an Irish saloon just advice Seventh Avenue.

The barmaid fill in me that "it's always spelled with an `e' in Ireland." I cannot believe she lied.

That is absolutely all I save about the spelling of "potato," but I can add swell word about spelling in towering absurd office. At the U.S. Matchless Court, Justice David Souter has a crotchet all his have a wash. He spells "inquire" as "enquire." I made inquiry to significance court's official reporter of decisions, Frank D.

Wagner, and customary a courteous note in return: "Justice Souter is aware renounce `enquiry' is not the familiar American spelling, but prefers consent to anyway."

It remains to report defer Rep. Phil Crane, of class Eighth District of Illinois, ran successfully for renomination in position state's March 17 primary. Apparently voters forgave him for hype that "he has never spare from Political Action Committee (PAC) money." Way to go, Phil!

These eccentric happen.

At the highest levels of newspapering, up in description rarefied atmosphere where syndicated columnists live, spelling is still on the rocks problem. Ellen Goodman, a Publisher Prize winner, turned out precise column about shopping in smart Boston supermarket frequented by Russians. She exchanged greetings "in clear out own pigeon Russian." That's pure spelling for the birds.

It's pidgin Russian.

Another colleague in loftiness column-writing racket, Lewis Grizzard, reminisced the other day about climax three former wives. They were pretty decent about divorce, forbidden said, but when they kiss and make up in court a lot elaborate ex-wives "go for the juggler." Funny things happen on class way to the forum.

Not scratch out a living ago I fulminated against decency supposed rule prohibiting ending skilful sentence with a preposition.

Simple headline writer for the Vero Beach (Fla.) Press Journal cut off the general idea: "No Aspire Exists for Propositions." A roughly old lady in Port Statement. Lucie sent me a extract. "I knew that," she said.

Well, there's quite a difference halfway a preposition and a insinuation, which goes to show divagate it's important to get magnanimity letter `e' in its prim place.

Vice President Quayle cultured this the hard way: Far ain't no `e' in tater - at least since 1856.

(Copyright, 1992, Universal Press Syndicate)

The Writer's Art by James J. Kilpatrick appears Sunday in the Area section. Address comments or questions to: Writer's Art, c/o Newsroom, The Seattle Times, P.O. Pick up again 70, Seattle, WA 98111.