ONE of the many memorable paragraphs of Herman Melville’s classic allegorical work of American fiction, Moby-Dick, is when the narrator/character Ismael speculates on what remuneration he might receive for signing on to the voyage of the whaler Pequod:
❝ I was already aware that in the whaling business they pay no wages; but all hands, including the captain, receive certain shares of the profits called lays, and that these lays were proportioned to the degree of importance pertaining to the respective duties of the ship’s company… I made no doubt that from all I had heard I should be offered at least the 275th lay—that is, the 275th part of the clear net proceeds of the voyage…what they call a rather long lay, yet it was better than nothing ❞.
As Elmo P Hofman elaborated in a 1926 essay, “the whaleman was not paid by day, week or month, nor was he allowed a certain sum of every barrel of oil or for every pound of bone captured” …his earnings came from a “specified fractional share” (a lay) of the net profits of the trip (cited in ‘How Profit Sharing Sent Captain Ahab in Search of Moby Dick, Joseph Thorndike, Forbes, 15-Dec-2015, www.forbes.com). Rather than being wage-earners the entire crew including the skipper were sort of joint shareholders in the commercial venture.
The experiences of real-life whaling boats of the era of Melville’s novel offers insights into the synchronic system of divvying up the profits – if we look at the profits of the 1843 whaling voyage of the Abigail of New Bedford⚀, it reveals a 70/30 split of the dividends, 70% to the owners and partners and 30% sub-divided between the captain and crew (Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, Karen Gleiter, In Pursuit of Leviathan (1997)). This was pretty typical for the period of what has been described as “an oddly denominated profit-sharing scheme” (‘The Whaleman’s Lay’, Ahab Beckons, 04-Feb-2018, www.ahab-beckons.blogspot.com). A captain might score a lay of ⅛th whereas a ‘green’ hand might only net a ¹⁄₃₅₀th lay or worse, so the novice sea-hand Ismael was perhaps over-optimistic about his likely share (in the novel Ismael is offered an exceptionally long lay which after haggling hard he manages to have reduced to a more acceptable lay of ¹⁄₃₀₀th). So, like the unknowables or “known unknowns” of the stock exchange, a crew member of a whaling vessel engaging in this pelagic industrial arena, even if he knows what lay he had scored, still won’t have any idea of how much he’ll earn for his months and months of hard ship work. Everything hinged on the voyage’s profitability.
Then on top of all this there were deductions from a crew member’s lay when he did finally get the money…anything an ordinary whaleman purchased from the ship’s store during the voyage—tobacco, boots, clothes, etc—was subtracted from his lay. The same if he was given an advance to send to his family. A crew member, especially one with a very long lay, could easily end up in debt to the ship’s owners at voyage’s end (‘Life Aboard’, New Bedford Whaling Museum, www.whalingmuseum.org).
𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪 𝄪
⚀ 50 miles south of Boston, from the early 1820s on it supplanted Nantucket as America’s foremost whaling port
Castlecrag is an affluent suburb on Sydney’s lower North Shore with an abundance of bushy vistas and water views. The other thing Castlecrag has in abundance is architectural heritage, and the foundation of that heritage was laid by Walter Burley Griffin (WBG), the suburb’s American planner, early in the 20th century.
WBG’s bold experiments in living The 15 houses that Griffin completed in the northern peninsula suburb (>30 more remained on the drawing board) are low-rise dwellings constructed in concrete, sandstone or brick, mainly locally sourced. Most of the houses are modest dwellings, small and squat, and for the most part the exteriors could be said to be aesthetically challengeda⃞. WBG’s credo was “designing for nature”, his enunciated goal—subordinating the Castlecrag houses to the surrounding landscape thus preserving the natural features—was realised…WBG left a legacy that inspired the projects of later architects in Castlecrag, notwithstanding that much of post-war Castlecrag housing development has not however been sympathetic with the Griffins’ architectural vision (‘Sydney — Castlecrag’, Walter Burley Griffin Society, www.griffinsociety.org).
. . . The Glass House Two architects drawn to Castlecrag in the 1950s to create Modernist residential buildings that are both innovative and in synch with the bush environment are Bill Lucas and Peter Muller. Lucas, a WWII veteran, with his wife Ruth, also an architect (cf. Walter and Marion Griffin) designed the “Glass House”…built in 1957 by Bill and his brother Nev and a friend and financed by Bill’s war service loan. The Glass House is like no other dwelling in Castlecrag, open plan in design, all four walls are of glass and thus the house is open to the landscape on all sides. The Lucas House (which was constructed as the Lucas family home and a studio for Bill’s practice) has been lauded for its economical design, providing the bare essentials while maintaining its sustainability…its “featherweight structure float(ing) miraculously about the tree canopy”b⃞ (with rocks and creek below) (‘Revisited: ‘Glass House by Bill and Ruth Lucas’, Peter Longeran, Architecture Australia, 17-Aug-2022, www.architectureau.com). The Glass House has been described as an “excellent seminal example of theshelter-in-nature minimalist composition constructed in Northern Sydney post World War II by architects of the ‘Sydney School’” (’Aus_Modern_House_Lucas_GL’, Docomomo International, 2003, www.docomomoaustralia.com.au).
The radical Glass House was a reaction by the Lucases to WBG’s restrictive covenants and building controls in force in Castlecrag. WGB’s covenant forbid housing construction in materials other than stone, concrete or brick, but the all-glass Lucas House somehow circumvented the stringent building restrictionsc⃞.
Lucas House,
80 The Bulwark
Castlecrag, NSW
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. . . Audette House Muller’s House (built for an American client in 1952) was the 24-year-old rookie architect’s first completed commission. Intended as an American colonial house, however Muller won the client over to something more Antipodean, devising a technique for the walls which became known as “snotted brick” – mortar oozing out the grout lines between the bricks (‘Striking a chord: Peter Muller on Audette House and why architecture is like music’, Architecture and Design, 17-Sep-2014, www.architectureanddesign.com.au. Muller drew on his recent experience studying in the US for his project which bears the strong influence of Frank Lloyd Wright’s iconic ‘Fallingwater’ and Muller’s liking for traditional Japanese motifs in residential architecture.
Audette House
265-267 Edinburgh Rd
Castlecrag NSW
Sydney School v International School: “Nature-responsive” v purist “white painted walls” Lucas and Muller were part of a loosely-connected group of Australian architects in the mid-20th century labelled the “Sydney School”. The group rejected the prevailing trend in architecture, the International School of Le Corbusier, Gropius and Van Der Rohe (whitewashed masonry, steel framed glass houses) as unsuitable in an Australian context. Sydney School architects, influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright‘s organic (“natural”) principles for designing houses, and WBG’s Castlecrag project which was visually sensitive to the natural bushland, “displayed distinctive choices that were driven by the natural environment and employed simple, ‘minimally processed’, low-cost materials”. ‘Sydney School, the virtuous case of Australian modernism’, Tommaso Picciioli, Domus, 27-Mar-2020, www.domusweb.it. The School was sometimes referred to as the “Nuts and Berries” Style for its preference for rustic materials (stone, brick, timber).
. . .
Footnote: Modernist Castlecrag Castlecrag architecture is interesting in that it contains examples of both of these rival Modernist styles. In addition to Lucas and Muller, many of the leading local architects of the second half of the 20th century (quite a number of them émigrés from Nazism) including Neville Gruzman, Harry Seidler, Hugh Buhrich and Andre Porebski, contributed to the residential profile of the suburb. The variety of architecture sitting under the umbrella of Modernism can be seen in houses as different as Gruzman‘s ”organic” monolithic Gowing House (8 The Bulwark) (1969) and the two Hugh Buhrich family homes, 315 and 375 Edinburgh Road (No. I constructed 1940s, No. II constructed 1968-72)d⃞. Both Buhrich Houses are in the European Bauhaus style, the later one rated by architect Peter Myers as “the finest modern house in Australia“, and an example of Brutalist domestic architecture (‘Brutalist Architecture in Sydney’, Sydney Morning Herald, 29-Sep-2017, www.smh.com.au). Architect and urban designer Glenn Harper extends the Brutalist tag to include the Lucas Glass House, despite Lucas eschewing the use of one of Brutalist architecture‘s key materials, raw concrete, in his Glass House (”How the ‘Sydney School’ changed postwar Australian architecture”, Davina Jackson, The Conversation, 28-Jun-2019, www.theconversation.com). ╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾
a⃞ with the exceptions of Fishwick House and Grant House
b⃞ the house has been described as being “barely there” (www.archinform.net)
c⃞ one explanation is that the construction being engulfed in dense bush was overlooked by Willoughby Council (Longeran)
d⃞ Buhrich also designed the Duval House at 2 The Tor Walk
The chances are most folk with a passing interest in words and language have come across the odd Malapropism and Spoonerism in their travels. For these two terms for errors in natural speech (or if you prefer, modes of original linguistic inventiveness) we have the fictional “Mrs Malaprop” and the real life “Reverend Spooner” to thank. Myself, I tend to associate Malapropisms (the accidental substitution of a incorrect word in place of another, usually similar-sounding one) in fiction with Arthur Daley, the small-time, dodgy as-they-get wheeler dealer in TV’s Minder (“From now on the world is your lobster”, the “Arfur” Daley variation on “oyster”) and in real life with former Australian PM Tony Abbott (“the suppository of all wisdom” (should have said “repository”)). Spoonerisms are another type of verbal misstep where the speaker makes a “slip of the tongue”, accidentally transposing the initial consonants of two consecutive words, often with humorous results. One of the most referenced examples is “you have hissed my mystery lecture”, instead of “you have missed my history lecture”.
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Would the latte-sipping, smashed avocado inner city set recognise a Mondegreen, Mumpsimus or Eggcorn when they see one? Probably not, these three linguistic odd fellows are the domain of dedicated language buffs and word nerds. If the ABC conducted a vox-pop in Martin Place “Mondegreen” would likely draw a blank, however the concept itself is a different story…anyone exposed to popular music would have at some point either unknowingly committed a Mondegreen or observed someone else in the act. A Mondegreen is where you mishear or misinterpret a phrase—especially a song lyric but it could also be a line from a poem—with the result that you give it a new and different meaning. I can hear the ranks of the slightly incredulous intoning “I didn’t know there was a word for that!”
Given the associated factors of diction and high volume noise, Mondegreenisms in modern pop music are legion, one of the most iconic is the misinterpretation by untold number of listeners of Jimi Hendrix’s line, “Excuse me while I kiss the sky” (“Purple Haze”) as “Excuse me while I kiss the guy“. Two more classic confusions warranting honourable mention are The Beatles’ “The girl with kaleidoscope eyes” transformed by an erring ear into “The girl with colitis goes by” (from “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”) and Johnny Nash’s “I can see clearly now, the rain has gone”, reinterpreted as “I can see clearly now, Lorraine has gone”. As these examples indicate, where the lyrics come unstuck it’s a fair chance that the culprit is a quasi-hononym.
Coining of Mondegreen: the word (but not the act) originated in 1954 with American writer Sylvia Wright…as a girl listening to her mother readIng a 18th century romantic poem she erroneously heard “Lady Mondegreen” instead of the actual lyric, “layd him on the green”. On being advised of her error Sylvia thought her interpretation “better than the original” and stuck to it, even inserting a character named “Lady Mondegreen” into her published stories.
Incoherent or indecipherable words in a song can be the source of “great storms in a teacup”. The Kingsmen’s 1963 recording of “Louie Louie” (vocalised incomprehensibly by Jack Ely) prompted an avalanche of complaints from outraged parents of teenagers about a supposed litany of obscene and pornographic lyrics in the single. Knee-jerk misinterpretations abounded from the morally-incensed in Middle America. One irate father even wrote to US attorney general Bobby Kennedy moaning about the lyrics’ “moral degradation” leading bizarrely to the FBI investigating the song (the Bureau failed to unearth any such obscenities)! All of which lends credence to the axiom that “people will hear what they want to hear” – which goes to the very heart of Mondegreens※.
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Mumpsimus are a different kettle of aquatic, craniate gill-bearing animals. Practitioners of Mumpsimus stubbornly insist on an incorrect usage…even after being proven wrong” (Fritinancy). Mumpsimustas obstinately cling to an error, bad habit or prejudice, even after the foible is exposed. Examples include the use of “all intensive purposes” in lieu of the correct phrase, “all intents and purposes”; the verbal substitution of “nuclear” with “nucular” (a proclivity of George W Bush)§.
Another, related form of expression that derives from mishearing and involves reinterpretation is “Eggcorn”. Eggcorns, like Mondegreens revolve around the near-homonym while differing from Mumpsimus in that their use is unconscious and unintentional. It often occurs when people are ignorant of the precise words in stock phrases and substitute what they erroneously believe to be the correct words or expression. Examples are manifold – saying “mute point” instead of “moot point”; “tenderhooks” instead of “tenterhooks”; “pass mustard” instead of “pass muster” etc ad nauseum. An essential feature of the eggcorn is that it must retain some of the original meaning as the speaker understands it (eg, Alzheimer’s disease is rendered into “Old-timer’s disease”). The term itself is an “Eggcorn”, it’s genesis can be traced back to a creative utterance from an anonymous individual who inserted the word “eggcorn” where the similarly sounding “acorn” would conventionally go (Mark Lieberman, 2003).
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※ Steven Connor suggests that cognitive dissonance is in train in the creation of Mondegreens – the brain is constantly trying “to make sense of the world by making assumptions to fill in the gaps when it cannot clearly determine what it is hearing” (‘Earslips: Of Mishearings and Mondegreens’, 2009)
§ the word Mumpsimus, a confused misinterpretation of the Latin term “Sumpsimus” (“we have received”), was accidentally coined by an old monk who doggedly persisted in using the invented word. Mumpsimus first appears in the correspondence of famous humanist scholar Erasmus Roterodamus, dating from 1516
Stock Exchange 1.0 The world’s first known stock exchange is thought to be a market established in Bruges, Belgium, around 1309. This operation was a family concern conducted in the home of textile merchant Robert Van der Burse (or Van “ter Buerse/Buerze”). This type of early market which primarily deals with the exchange of commodities, ie, various agricultural products—and in its modern connotation, also with gas, oil, coal, etc—acquired the name ‘bourse’ from its founder. A bourse (typically European in location) is “a market organised for the purpose of buying and selling securities, commodities, options and other investments” [‘Bourse’, Investopedia, www.investopedia.com]. Another early bourse was located in Antwerp<a̷>.
𝕍𝕒𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖: 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖
The Van der Burse exchange was the first organised market, before this landmark development such transaction processes were unorganised and informal – sellers and buyers would meet up one-to-one at specific meeting places such as town squares to conduct their trade <b̷> [‘Creation of the first stock exchange’, www.citeco.fr].
The Dutch, pioneers of capitalism
For the first ‘modern’ securities market we need to look to Belgium’s neighbours, the Dutch. The Amsterdam Stock Exchange is the oldest such market, founded in 1602 with the establishment of the Dutch East India Company (Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie or VOC). Amsterdam was the first bourse to deal in securities <c̷>. The VOC was empowered with quasi-government and monopoly status by the States General of the Netherlands, granted a 21-year charter to conduct all Dutch trade in Asia. In so doing, financial history was made…the VOC was a world first, a public company founded by a state government. Hitherto the Dutch trading environment comprised a number of competing private companies known as voorcompagnieën or “pre-companies”. By the 1602 Charter, the government merged those small, private companies into one “nationalistic Goliath”, VOC, creating a proto-megacorporation.
Raising capital
At VOC’s commencement of business it held an unprecedented initial public offering (IPO). The company’s directors opened up share-holding to all Dutchmen by subscription (while investing 12,000 guilders of their own money up front). The public nature of the share issue was its revolutionary feature, hitherto predecessor companies (like the Oude Compagnie) had raised capital from a small circle of private investors. Some investors balked at the opportunity offered by VOC, wary of tying up their precious savings for such a long period (ten years). Concessions made by the VOC eased these concerns – in a subsequent amendment to the charter, investors were permitted to on-sell their shares to a third party prior to ten years [‘The world’s first IPO’, Lodewijk Petram, The World’s First Stock Exchange’, 15 October 2020, www.worldsfirststockexchange.com].
What would NOT have seemed novel to financial market investors of the day was the ‘office’ for doing business…initially lacking a business premises the VOC—after the fashion of the Bourses’ 14th century Bruges exchange—issued an open invitation for would-be investors to come to the private home of the company co-founder Dirck van Os to do the paperwork and deposit their money. Ultimately, by the time subscriptions closed, some 1,143 individuals <d̷> had invested a total of 3,674,945 guilders in the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (including Dirck van Os’ own maid!) [Petram].
ℕ𝔸𝕊𝔻𝔸ℚ (ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠: 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕎𝕚𝕜𝕚)
Footnote: the VOC’s IPO had profound ramifications, fundamentally altering the nature of investing. Originally intended to facilitate the financing of risky capital-intensive ventures, it “inadvertently created an alternative for investor beyond fixed income investments, marking the beginning of retail investing in equities” [‘World’s First IPO: Dutch East India Co’, Suede Investing, www.suedeinvesting.com].
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<a̷> the most famous bourse today is that of the Paris Stock Exchange
<b̷> including the square in front of the Van der Burse residence
<c̷> printed stocks and bonds, debt and other interests in companies, government and private businesses