THEME: CEREALS AISLES (23D: Places to find items at the ends of 4-, 8- and 14-Down) — ordinary phrases turned into cereal puns:
Theme answers:
ENDORSED CHEX (4D: Came out in favor of a certain breakfast product?)
GETTING ONE'S KIX (14D: Doing some breakfast shopping?)
WHOLE BAG OF TRIX (8D: Sugary bulk breakfast purchase?)
Word of the Day: "A Drop of Nelson's Blood" (60A: "Nelson's blood" = RUM) —
"A Drop of Nelson's Blood" is a sea shanty, also known as "Roll the old chariot along" (Roud No. 3632) The origins are unclear, but the title comes from the line: "A drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm". Often described as a "walkaway" or "runaway chorus" or "stamp and go" sea shanty, the song features on the soundtrack of the 2019 film Fisherman's Friends. The chorus comes from the 19th century Salvation Army hymn, 'Roll the old chariot'.
Each line is sung three times and describes something that the singing sailors would miss while at sea for a long time. The last line is always "And we'll all hang on behind", although some versions say "we won't drag on behind". // Following his victory and death at the Battle of Trafalgar, Nelson's body was preserved in a cask of brandy or rum for transport back to England. Though when news of Nelson's death and return to British soil reached the general public, people either 1. argued rum would've been the better alternative or 2. wrongly assumed the body was preserved in rum to begin with. ‘Nelson's blood' became a nickname for rum, but it can also mean Nelson's spirit or bravery.
The shanty was sung to accompany certain work tasks aboard sailing ships, especially those that required a bright walking pace. Although Nelson is mentioned in the title, there is no evidence that the shanty dates from the time of Nelson, who died in 1805. (wikipedia)
• • •
This played so slow for me, for a Wednesday. It's possible I just didn't get enough sleep—it's always possible I just didn't get enough sleep—and some of it also might be a general wavelength mismatch. But I think some of it is that the concept, and particularly the editing, is just a bit ... off. So many things about the theme just don't quite work. I'll start with the revealer, which ... again, it's DEF possible that I'm missing something, but I don't see how the AISLES part of CEREAL AISLES connects to these answers. Specifically, what does it have to do with the fact they all end in "X." The "X" part feels like a really important feature of the theme, but how does AISLES get me there? How does AISLES get me anywhere? Is the fact that the answers are Downs related? But then ... why couldn't AISLES just as easily run Across? Not getting the connection between Down-ness and aisle-ness. AISLES ... isles? ... I'm stumped. There must be something here, something to make that revealer a real bullseye, but I just can't see it. If there's some element I'm missing, please let me know.
I was having so much trouble with the back ends of the themers that I jumped to the revealer just to see what was going on, and while I got CEREAL easily enough, I couldn't figure out the next part. I wanted AISLE, singular, since that is certainly where you'd find all these cereals (in one AISLE), so AISLES seemed slightly preposterous. And even after getting the CEREAL part, I still found the 2nd and 3rd themers hard, first because there is nothing KIX-specific about that GETTING ONE'S KIX clue—you could be buying annnnnything—and parsing ONE'S KIX was brutal. I was like "GETTING ON ... in years? GETTING ... One-A-Day? No, that's a vitamin..." And then WHOLE BAG OF TRIX???? I think this answer is confusing "bag of tricks" with "whole ball of wax." I can't remember hearing "whole" before "bag of tricks" before. "Whole bag of tricks" just didn't resonate with me. And then "endorsed checks" ... let's just say there are snappier phrases (side note: before I understood the cereal-specific nature of the theme, I had ENDORSED EGGO here, lol). "Getting one's kicks" is by far the best base phrase. The others, I dunno. There's a weird glitch in the cluing too (this is an editing problem): why is "Sugary" in the Trix clue? The other clues mention absolutely nothing specific about the cereals in question—they're just "breakfast" products. But, randomly, "Sugary" just gets thrown in there in the Trix clue. This is a sloppy inconsistency. The clue should just be [Bulk breakfast purchase] or the other clues should have elements that describe the cereals' specific features (Chex's squareness? Kix's sphericalness? ... something!). This inconsistency didn't hamper my solving enjoyment, exactly, but the editor / test-solver in me found it irksome, for sure.
As for the fill, it's not great, but it's not awful either. My problems were small but frequent. Neutrogena makes a T/SAL shampoo, so T/GEL was a rough kealoa* for me (3D: Neutrogena shampoo with a slash in its name). Speaking of kealoas ... hey, look, the locus classicus! The namesake clue! Right here in the puzzle: 16A: Mauna ___ (KEA). Ironically, there was no confusion for me today: I got it easily because I didn't even look at the clue until I had -EA in the grid. Back to my difficulties ... [Gag costume] could've been annnnything, so I needed many crosses to parse APESUIT. Never heard of "Nelson's blood" (though glad now to know it—see Word of the Day, above). Got totally flummoxed by I AM / HANG (43D: Words of affirmation / 46A: Word before tight or time). Just ... dead-stopped. I had I DO / HOLD. "I DO" seemed like definite [Words of affirmation] and "Hold tight" and "hold time" both seemed like legit phrases to me—your "hold time" is the amount of time you spend on "hold" before a customer service rep gets to you, isn't it?—ha, yes, it is! Moving on ... that GRAPE clue, oof, no hope (40D: "You did a ___ job raisin me!" (punny Mother's Day card line)). I can't imagine why in the world you would get your mom such a card? Does the card have a ... grape on it? A raisin? Are you from Fresno, the raisin capital of the world? Well, I am from Fresno, the Raisin Capital of the World, and I didn't see the "raisin" / GRAPE pun. Crazy. (Also, apologies to Selma, CA, a much smaller neighbor of Fresno, which I think is actually, officially, the "Raisin Capital of the World" ... am I remembering that correctly? ... [looks it up] ... wow, it's true ... the things you retain from childhood ...)
Further notes:
1A: Like some colors or Zoom users (MUTED) — clever, but very tough clue to start on. Needed many crosses.
34A: Form of solitaire won when only the four highest cards remain (ACES UP) — no idea. None. Never heard of it. Another reason the puzzle just played slow to me. I ended up with ANESUP here because of 27D: Fella (MAC), which I had entered as MAN.
62A: Files taxes in June, perhaps (IS LATE) — very bad fill (random "IS + adjective" phrases? You can do that?). The attempt to cover up the badness with timeliness (tax day was yesterday) was noble but ultimately doomed.
21A: General Mills brand (TOTAL) — I guess this is supposed to be a wink at the theme (??) but it feels less winky, more sloppy. You've got a cereal theme, so keep cereals out of the rest of the grid. Or, if you're going to wink, really wink. This seems pretty half-hearted, as winks go.
55D: Products with peak sales before Easter, say (DYES) — another attempt at timeliness (it's Easter Week, after all), but surely DYES is a woefully partial answer for this clue. It's EGGDYES. To have this answer just be DYES is ... weak. There are lots of DYES in the world, DYES whose sales are in now way tied to Easter. Hair DYES, for instance. Also, why is "say" in this clue? Again, the editing logic eludes me here.
69A: Old long-haul hwy. from Detroit to Seattle (US TEN) — why is it "old?" Does it not exist any more? It got clued as "old" back in '09, but it's appeared six more times since then without the "old" ... and now we get the "old" again. Confusing. Looks like US TEN (which no one but no one writes that way, it's US 10) is "no longer a cross-country highway, and it never was a full coast-to-coast route. US 10 was one of the original long-haul highways, running from Detroit, Michigan, to Seattle, Washington, but then lost much of its length when new Interstate Highways were built on top of its right-of-way." The wikipedia entry itself wavers between "is" and "was" for this highway, so the full highway, from Det. to Sea., doesn't exist any more, but some part of it still does? Yes, that appears to be what's up—the current incarnation runs only from Bay City, MI, to Fargo, ND.
That’s all. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
**kealoa = a pair of words (normally short, common answers) that can be clued identically and that share at least one letter in common (in the same position). These are answers you can't just fill in quickly because two or more answers are viable, Even With One or More Letters In Place. From the classic [Mauna ___] KEA/LOA conundrum. See also, e.g. [Heaps] => ATON or ALOT, ["Git!"] => "SHOO" or "SCAT," etc.
THEME: IN ONE SENSE (28D: Description of this puzzle's circled letters, and a clue to what they spell) — circled letters spell "SORTA," and each of those letters can be found (literally) IN ONE SENSE (i.e. embedded inside one of the five senses, which are found in shaded squares inside longer answers):
Theme answers:
REHEARSING (5D: Doing a musical read-through)
TOASTER OVEN (23D: Appliance with a door and a crumb tray)
FREELOADERS (24D: Moochers)
HANGS TIGHT (10D: Waits patiently)
SAM ELLIOTT (30D: Actor who narrates "The Big Lebowski")
***ATTENTION: READERS AND FELLOW SOLVERS IN SYNDICATION (if you're reading this in January, that's you!)*** : It's January, which means it's time once again for my annual week-long pitch for financial contributions to the blog. Every year I ask readers to consider what the blog is worth to them on an annual basis and give accordingly. Writing this blog is a joy, but it is also a job—an everyday, up-by-4am job. My morning schedule is regular as hell. So regular that my cats know my routine and will start walking all over me if I even *stir* after 3am. You ever lie there in the early morning, dying to simply roll over or stretch, but knowing that the second you do, the second you so much as budge, the cats will take it as a signal that you're through with sleep and ready to serve them? So you just lie perfectly still, trying to get every ounce of bedrest you can before the cats ruin it all? That's me, every morning. I guess you could say they "help" get me up on time to write, but come on, I have an alarm for that. The cats are adorable, but frankly they're no help at all. After I feed them, I go upstairs to write, and what do they do? They go straight back to sleep. Here I'll show you. This was two days ago, when I came downstairs after writing:
And this was yesterday, same time:
Those pictures are from two different days, I swear. And I'm guessing when I go downstairs this morning, I'll find much the same thing. They are beautiful creatures, but they cannot solve or type or bring me warm beverages. When it comes to blogging, I'm on my own. And look, I'm not asking for pity. The truth is, I love my life (and my cats), but the truth *also* is that writing this blog involves a lot of work. I get up and I solve and I write, hoping each day to give you all some idea of what that experience was like for me, as well as some insight into the puzzle's finer (or less fine) qualities—the intricacies of its design, the trickiness of its clues, etc. The real value of the blog, though, is that it offers a sort of commiseration. While I like to think my writing is (at its best) entertaining, I know that sometimes all people need is someone who shares their joy or feels their pain. If you hate a clue, or get stuck and struggle, or otherwise want to throw the puzzle across the room, you know I'm here for you, and that even if my experience is not identical to yours, I Understand! I understand that even though "it's just a puzzle," it's also a friend and a constant companion and a ritual and sometimes a Betrayer! I don't give you objective commentary—I give you my sincere (if occasionally hyperbolic) feelings about the puzzle, what it felt like to solve it. I can dress those feelings up in analytical clothes, sure, but still, ultimately, I'm just one human being out here feeling my puzzle feelings. And hopefully that makes you feel something too—ideally, something good, but hey I'm not picky. Whatever keeps you coming back! Hate-readers are readers too!
Whatever kind of reader you are, you're a reader, and I would appreciate your support. This blog has covered the NYTXW every day, without fail, for over eighteen (18!?) years, and except for two days a month (when my regular stand-ins Mali and Clare write for me), and an occasional vacation or sick day (when I hire substitutes to write for me), it's me who's doing the writing. Over the years, I have received all kinds of advice about "monetizing" the blog, invitations to turn it into a subscription-type deal à la Substack or Patreon. And maybe I'd make more money that way, I don't know, but that sort of thing has never felt right for me. And honestly, does anyone really need yet another subscription to manage? As I've said in years past, I like being out here on Main, on this super old-school blogging platform, just giving it away for free and relying on conscientious addicts like yourselves to pay me what you think the blog's worth. It's just nicer that way.
How much should you give? Whatever you think the blog is worth to you on a yearly basis. Whatever that amount is is fantastic. Some people refuse to pay for what they can get for free. Others just don't have money to spare. All are welcome to read the blog—the site will always be open and free. But if you are able to express your appreciation monetarily, here are three options. First, a Paypal button (which you can also find in the blog sidebar on the homepage):
Second, a mailing address (checks can be made out to "Michael Sharp" or "Rex Parker"):
Rex Parker c/o Michael Sharp 54 Matthews St Binghamton, NY 13905
The third, increasingly popular option is Venmo; if that's your preferred way of moving money around, my handle is @MichaelDavidSharp (the last four digits of my phone are 4878, in case Venmo asks you, which I guess it does sometimes, when it's not trying to push crypto on you, what the hell?!)
All Paypal contributions will be gratefully acknowledged by email. All Venmo contributions will get a little heart emoji, at a minimum :) All snail mail contributions will be gratefully acknowledged with hand-written postcards. I. Love. Snail Mail. I love seeing your gorgeous handwriting and then sending you my awful handwriting. It's all so wonderful. My daughter (Ella Egan) has once again designed my annual thank-you card, and once again the card features (wait for it) cats!
Ida & Alfie, my little yin/yang sleepers! (They're slowly becoming friends, but don't tell them that—it makes them mad and they will deny it). Please note: I don't keep a "mailing list" and don't share my contributor info with anyone. And if you give by snail mail and (for some reason) don't want a thank-you card, just indicate "NO CARD." Again, as ever, I'm so grateful for your readership. Please know that your support means a lot to me and my family. Now on to today's puzzle...
• • •
Well this puzzle was certainly more elaborate than Monday's or Tuesday's, but more elaborate (in this case, in many cases) does not mean more entertaining. I found this one fussy and clunky—a puzzle built entirely around a complicated visual "joke" that doesn't really land. The revealer has no zing and comes too early—it's positioning is weirdly, and ineffectively, all the way over on the left, so I got it before I got any of the themers except REHEARSING, and then from there was able to write in "SORTA," see the "sense" in REHEARSING (i.e. "hearing"), and figure out the rest of the themers really easily. I never even saw the clue for SAM ELLIOTT (which would've been no help at all)—I just looked up and saw most of his name already written in, and since I know who he is, and I knew what the theme was, the clue was superfluous. Getting an answer without looking at a clue isn't so unusual, but the revealer placement here just made everything about the theme execution somewhat anticlimactic. Real cart-before-the-horse energy. Further, the revealer is IN ONE SENSE, but we are clearly dealing with All Five Senses, so there's an inherent disconnect between the revealer (which, again, is such a tepid, unpunchy phrase...) and the themers. ONE SENSE in the revealer, five senses in the grid. The revealer only works if you take SORTA letter by letter, i.e. it only SORTA works. Lastly, that fourth sense should be "touch," not FEEL. You have a sense of taste, a sense of smell, and a sense of touch, not a sense of FEEL. This puzzle has great thematic ambition and a lot of moving parts, but as a finished product, it's pretty wobbly and not terribly exciting.
The theme answers themselves, as standalone answers (regardless of the theme) are very nice. Well, REHEARSING is kinda neutral, but the others have real zing, and would be more than welcome in any themeless grid, or anywhere. Outside the themers, though, there's not much of interest, despite there being a hell of a lot of real estate given over to seven-letter words (ten of them!). The most exciting part of the grid was probably the part where the VEHICLE CRASHER RAN PAST the GOOSE, but the rest of those corners (where all the 7s are found) just kinda lie there, as does most of the fill overall. Not offensively bad or rough, just ... there. There is one answer, however, that was so jarring it derailed my solve, not in the sense that I got stuck, but in the sense that I found it so disruptive that I literally stopped my forward momentum to stare at the damage. What slammed into me hard enough to make me stop and make sure everything was OK? The answer: A LOAD OF. Doesn't look that menacing, I know, and it's not ... except with the LOAD part literally crosses *another LOAD* part (at FREELOADERS). So it's not just that the grid has "LOAD" in it twice (not great, but forgivable), it's that the LOADs literally crash into each other. Awkward, ugly, bad (like OWED TO running into PRIOR TO, but worse). A secondarily bad part of A LOAD OF is that it doesn't really mean what the clue says it means. A LOT OF, yes; A LOAD OF, er, eh ... SORTA? But A LOAD OF is much more common as a phrase meaning "a look at," as in the phrase "get A LOAD OF this," used when you are directing someone's attention to ... something. Someone. Whatever. It's A LOT OF for "many" (today, the weirdly French [Beaucoup]), and A LOAD OF for "an eyeful of." So A LOAD OF is doubly bad today—triply bad if you think (as I do) that the slangy / Frenchy [Beaucoup] doesn't really match its much plainer answer.
Bullets:
35A: Billionaire philanthropist Broad (ELI) — can we not? There are so many fine ELIs in the world, why are you foregrounding a so-called "billionaire philanthropist?" It's easy to give some of your money away when you're a ****ing billionaire. The idea that anyone is famous for this is nauseating. Hey, why don't you become famous for Giving It All Away? You are never going to sell me on the virtuous aspects of *any* billionaire, whatever their politics. Billionaire. Philanthropy. Is. A. Scam. I have never actively wished to see ELI Manning in the grid before, but here we are.
39A: Fresno-to-San Diego dir. (SSE) — I am never going to love seeing a three-letter direction in the grid, but I love this clue for two reasons. First, I grew up in Fresno, so I got a little pang of nostalgia, and second, the clue is somewhat counterintuitive—you really have to know CA geography to get the "E" part, because Fresno is inland and SD is coastal, so it seems like SD should be "W," not "E." But California juts eastward as it approaches Mexico along the coast, so SD ends up being east of Fresno, not west. This is somewhat like Detroit being east of Atlanta (a fact that my brain still can't quite accept).
51A: Keto diet no-no (BREAD) — [Keto no-no] is a much, much better clue. Just sounds better. The "diet" part is superfluous. Everyone knows "Keto" is a diet. You gotta have a good ear to write good clues. This one clanks.
23D: Appliance with a door and a crumb tray (TOASTER OVEN) — this one made me smile because I use mine every day despite the fact that it's kinda old and banged up. But we hang onto it because of its backstory: one year we went to Colorado for Christmas and our daughter (age 10? 11?) decided to get us a TOASTER OVEN for Christmas (?!) and so somehow acquired one and ... packed it in her luggage (!?!) and gave it to us in Colorado. I do not recommend packing a TOASTER OVEN in your suitcase. It got dented in transit. And then, of course, we had to ship it back home. The shipping probably ended up costing more than the oven itself (it's not a "nice" oven). But the sheer bizarre ambition of the girl's whole gift-giving scheme endeared the oven to us, so until it conks out or explodes, we're keeping it. Good memories.
50D: Epic work that begins "Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilles" (ILIAD) — I always heard it translated as "wrath," which is ... somewhat stronger, more evocative of Achilles's destructive power, than mere "anger." If you've seen Achilles go ham on the Trojans after Patroclus is killed, you'll know what I'm talking about.
Alright, time for more Holiday Pet Pics!
Pi Pi has never seen A Christmas Story, so he doesn't know why wearing Ralphie's bunny ears is funny, but his human insists that it is, so here we are:
[Thanks, Max]
Freya is concerned this sweater makes her butt look big. (How do you people even get your cats into these get-ups? When I imagine trying to put a sweater on either of my cats, I can already feel claws slashing my arms and (probably) face)
[Thanks, Jan]
Dogs love to show off their tongues, but cats ... you gotta time it right. Here we get some subtle cat tongue action from Lydia...
[Thanks, Joan]
... and some loopier and more manic tongue action from Sugar
[Thanks, Emma]
Oliver's owner insists that her fur spells out the word "HOPE"—Oliver just "hopes" that you leave her in peace so she can continue maniacally shredding her spectacular quadruple-wide scratchpost platform, thank you very much...
[Thanks, Emma]
Finally, here's a cat willing to fight back against all these tyrannical holiday impositions on catdom. Kill, Remy, Kill! Fight the power, Remy!
[Thanks, Max]
And lastly, there's Woody, who's just glad to be here. He thinks his left side is his good side. All your sides are good, Woody!
There are multiple versions of the Oh Henry! bar origin story. The manufacturer Nestlé says that the bar was introduced by George Williamson and his Williamson Candy Company of Chicago in 1920 in United States.The most popular alternate story is that Thomas Henry, manager of the Peerless Candy Co. in Arkansas City, Kansas, invented a bar he called the "Tom Henry Bar" in the late 1910s, and sold the recipe to George Williamson in 1920. There is no credible documentation of this story.
There are other alternate accounts of the origin of the name of the bar. The story supported by Nestlé is that there was a boy named Henry who frequented George Williamson's second candy shop. He became a favorite of the young girls who worked there, who would say "Oh Henry" when speaking to or about him, and Williamson used this phrase to name his new confection. The other (undocumented) story is that the name was changed from the Tom Henry Bar to Oh Henry! when it was purchased by Williamson. Popular myths are that it was named after O. Henry or Henry Aaron.
The Williamson Company was sold to Warner-Lambert in 1965, which soon sold Oh Henry! to Terson, Inc. Nestlé acquired the United States rights to the brand from Terson in 1984. In 2018, Nestlé sold the rights to its U.S. confectionery products to Ferrara Candy Company, a subsidiary of Ferrero SpA. Ferrara quietly discontinued the US version of Oh Henry! in 2019. (wikipedia) (emph. mine)
• • •
So ... [Erstwhile candy bar whose name was an exclamation], then. Good thing they discontinued the candy bar "quietly," otherwise, my god, you can imagine the uproar ...
This is one of those themes that feels like it belongs in some other publication. The concept is pretty stale. You're just adding letters. Two letters: "LE." Why? I don't know. The title, "Le Puzzle" ... is that supposed to evoke Le Car? What is that? It's as if the title is admitting, "yeah, there's not much of a concept here, but there's wackiness, so, you know, enjoy." Seems like you could add "LE" to words all day long, and then the number of phrases you might use those words in, hoo boy, that list has gotta go on forever. So you find some and you arrange them symmetrically and here you are, but where are you, really, besides killing 10 min. to a half hour on a Sunday morning. The wacky really Really has to pay off for a theme this conceptually thin to work, and it's hard to argue that the payoff is very substantial here. I gotta give credit to WORDLE OF MOUTH for at least trying hard. That answer is grammatically tortured but it's got the right idea: as with all things wacky, go big or go home. The clue is innovative and cute and the answer is current, so props to that themer for sure, but the rest of this is pretty lackluster. Well, STARTLE DATE is pretty startling, and that's better than just being chuckleworthy, so we'll count that one as a plus as well. The rest, shrug. There they are.
The non-thematic fill is pretty unremarkable, and occasionally wobbly. RATEDAAA and AAH ... I feel like there's a potential theme here somewhere [Like bonds issued at a spa] (RATED AAH), something like that. But all the AAAAAA action here is weird. The TNOTE / NOTPC (ugh) / O'MEARA section is pretty thick with mustiness as well. SEE ME!? I LAY! The fill never gets above mediocre. The grid's main problem is that it's poorly filled so much as that it's just loaded with ordinary, unremarkable 3-to-5-letter answers. Not a lot of fun to be had there. Second day in a row for HORSEMAN, which is the bizarro fact of the day (okay yesterday was HORSEMEN plural but close enough). I didn't have a lick of trouble anywhere with this one. Maybe getting from [Boos] to HONEYS took me a few beats, or acceding to ASSHAT, that might've cost me some seconds, but mostly I was writing in answers as fast as I could read clues. I wish there was more to talk about today, but this grid just isn't giving me a lot to work with. I had PROD before CROP (101A: Whip) and couldn't remember the Nickelodeon brothers' names (PETE) (102D: Name of either brother in a classic Nickelodeon sitcom) (that show missed me completely, though honestly that's true of virtually every show on Nickelodeon; I was too old for that network, and my daughter just never cared).
The clue on ALL OVER THE MAPLE feels very weird (106A: Where you'd find sap for syrup?). Imagine if your maples were actually covered in sap ... because that's what I was imagining, because the image the clue evokes. You know what's actually ALL OVER THE MAPLEs (outside my house) right now? The damn screaming blue jays. What is it with the blue jays this late summer / early autumn? I've never heard more damn jay yelling. I mean, jays are notoriously pushy jerks, but they are really going at it, screaming-wise, this year. They are beautiful birds, but I am looking forward to shut-the-hell-up season, whenever that is.
I'll leave you with a couple of bonus features today. First, video of the crossword round-table discussion I participated in last week as part of the opening festivities of the Finger Lakes Crossword Competition (it's me and "Wordplay" blogger Deb Amlen and constructor Adam Perl, moderated by New Yorker constructor (and Cornell professor) Anna Shechtman):
And then, finally, an email I got from a reader this week. It had the subject heading: "A Will Weng story" so naturally I was intrigued (Weng was the NYTXW editor in the '70s, the successor to the original editor Margaret Farrar and the immediate predecessor of Eugene Maleska, who was Shortz's predecessor ... mind-boggling that in 80 years there have been only 4 NYTXW editors!). Anyway, here it is, your Crossword Anecdote (from reader Oliver)!
It is 1970. I was doing my two-year Vietnam military obligation in San Francisco, working for the Yellow Berets in the U. S. Public Health Service (q.v. — “Yellow Berets”).
I was then married to Lisa Ferris Brown [ed.: not her real name], a cruciverbalist and cryptogram solver.
Lisa, then 25, decided to compose an X-word puz for the NYT. It took some prodding on my part (not re: content, but re: persistence), but eventually Lisa completed the puzzle and sent it off to Will Weng. A few weeks later, a poorly typed letter on undersized and mis-aligned stationery (poorly typed because of a number of overstrikes with ribbon-clogged keys) arrived from Mr. Weng.
Mr. Weng wrote: “Change ‘Ahab to arab' and we’ll publish it.” There was one other change Mr. Weng wanted — I cannot recall. After some more encouragement, Lisa made the suggested changes and mailed the revised puzzle back to New York. Lisa also sent a Xerox (a Big Deal in 1970) of the puzzle to my dad, who, as I noted in my test email to you, was a 30-year veteran NYT X-word pro — could even do the Friday puzzle between Lexington and Wall Street.
OK. Silence for another few weeks, and then…. a letter to Lisa Ferris Brown (née as written, but may have sent her letter to Mr. Weng as Lisa Brown Kelman) from the New York Times arrived. Well, an envelope arrived, not exactly a letter. In the envelope was a check for $15.00 from the NYT’s bank. No hint what it was for.
A few more weeks passed. Then my dad called me: “Lisa's puzzle is in today’s paper!” I have no recollection whether it was a Monday or any other weekday.
End of story? No.
In April, 1970 Lisa and I took the Italy Grand Tour. On the way back, we checked in at Fiumicino in Rome for our flight to SFO. A guy in the window seat had the International Herald Tribune (which carried a mishmash of Euro stringers and NYT stuff) opened to the crossword puzzle. Lisa was sitting next to him. At some point, the guy turns to Lisa and asks, “Hey what’s a 4-letter word for XXXX?”
Lisa says, “May I please see that puzzle for a moment and may I borrow your pencil?”
The guy surrenders the folded Herald Tribune and his pencil. Maybe it was a pen.
It’s Lisa's puzzle, the rights to which she had surrendered when she sold it to the NYT for a small fortune.
So Lisa proceeds to complete the puzzle in mere seconds without looking at the clues and hands it back to the guy in the window seat. The guy makes a few feeble efforts to check the clues against Lisa's fill-ins to make sure she had not entered just a bunch of letters, and then says:
“How did you do this?”
Lisa answers:
“I wrote it.”
The guy does not know which is more improbable — that she wrote it or that she was some kind of 200 IQ genius. But Lisa convinces him it was just a freak coincidence. They guy was a shrink from Berkeley.
We shared some drinks.
Y'all are free to send me random crossword-related stories like this *any* time you like. They entertain me no end. Take care, and see you later.
Opel traces its roots to a sewing machine manufacturer founded by Adam Opel in 1862 in Rüsselsheim am Main. The company began manufacturing bicycles in 1886 and produced its first automobile in 1899. After listing on the stock market in 1929, General Motors took a majority stake in Opel and then full control in 1931, establishing the American reign over the German automaker for nearly 90 years.
In March 2017, Groupe PSA agreed to acquire Opel from General Motors for €2.2 billion, making the French automaker the second biggest in Europe, after Volkswagen.
Opel is headquartered in Rüsselsheim am Main, Hesse, Germany. The company designs, engineers, manufactures and distributes Opel-branded passenger vehicles, light commercial vehicles, and vehicle parts and together with its British sister brand Vauxhall they are present in over 50 countries around the world. (wikipedia)
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Mixed bag today, but let's start with the good news—those themers are all lively and interesting. As stand-alone phrases, they are great, and they give the puzzle a lot of sassy personality. All of them are idiomatic in one way or another, even the revealer, and that colloquial quality really spices things up. I'm also a big fan of "WHO KNEW?", KEELS OVER, and PUT ON AIRS—I especially like the clue 64A: Act all hoity-toity because it reminds me of Michael Ian Black's podcast "Obscure" (about Jude the Obscure), which has an episode called "Hoity-Toity!" which is what Arabella yells at Jude the first time she sees him walking past ... not sure if it's before or after she throws a greasy pig part at him ... anyway, bring back "hoity-toity!" I say! (Also, check out "Obscure," it's a bunch of fun).
But then there a number of problems. First, this isn't the tightest theme; spoon fork knife, OK, but ... two are at end of their themers, one isn't; two are things you would actually put in your mouth, one *decidedly* isn't. I mean, not that we put knives in our mouths as a rule, but we definitely don't put *surgical* knives in our mouths. And look, surgeons, if I'm wrong about that, please don't tell me. Also, the revealer is pretty weak, in that it doesn't really evoke silverware specfiically. COME TO THE TABLE? Lots of things are on a table, lots of things are involved in a place setting. Maybe do something with SILVER ...? I dunno, but this revealer just lies there. Then there's the very serious problems with the fill. The grid is choked with crosswordese, some of it of a stunningly archaic variety. IGLU!? You can see what happened—the fill is weakest along the length of the central two themers. They are treacherously close, and the grid just groans with hypercommon or just plain bad short fill as a result. If you position your themers such that you give yourself -G-U as a starting point, you really are dooming yourself to IGLU. Gotta make better choices, or build a more forgiving grid, or let your themers breathe more, or something. Real problem is those 14s—14s are very hard to work with. Very unwieldy, and you can't put them on the third / thirteenth rows because of black square issues, so they're crowding the middle of the puzzle. Much of the grid is under strain because of the lack of breathing room between the very long themers. So we get SOT ERGS ETON ALOU ATPAR ELAN RAJAS ACERB ENOLA OBIS AAA ETATS SOU (ugh) IGLU (2x) OPEL HOER (?) UHURA. It's a crosswordese barrage. And it's pretty brutal.
FIVE THINGS:
53A: Org. with the longtime leader Wayne LaPierre (NRA) — f*** that guy and this answer and this clue and all of it. I know it's a useful answer, but this is pretty much a white terrorist org. now, so maybe delete it from your wordlist. Please. EURO could've been changed to ESSO and the whole horrid gun-fetishizing scene could've been avoided.
39A: Give the glad eye (OGLE) — again, jeez, read the room (i.e. country). This old-timey euphemism for a creepy predatory gaze is somehow much worse than just a straightforward clue.
1D: Moo goo gai pan pan (WOK) — indeed, a funny clue, but one that had my speed-solving brain totally flummoxed, as I thought ... I just couldn't figure out what I was reading. It was like I was seeing double and I couldn't parse it to save my life, so I actually had to go to crosses, ugh. My bad.
43D: "You wouldn't believe it if I told you" ("DON'T ASK!") — more good colloquial stuff, though I couldn't get the part after DON'T, and since I couldn't get the part before -TO THE TABLE, I was in this weird position of being almost done but locked out of that SW corner. Had to jump into it and solve my way back out.
48A: One-named singer with the 1985 hit "Smooth Operator" (SADE) — this puzzle has me wishing SADE and REBA did a duet together, if only for the complete and utter unexpectedness of it
A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")