When Theodore Roosevelt Tried to Reform the English Language

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A number of famous names have been involved in reforming the English spelling system over the centuries, but probably one of the most unexpected names on that list is Theodore Roosevelt. Known for his uncompromising stance on many issues, in the early 1900s Roosevelt used the full power of his position to try to force through several hundred new spelling reforms in an attempt to make the language—and the cost of printing government documents—more economical. Despite even the president’s involvement, however, in the end Roosevelt’s war on spelling collapsed before it was able to have any lasting effect on our spelling.

FRANKLIN, WEBSTER, AND THE WAR ON WORDS

Probably the most famous spelling reformer in the history of American English, if not the English language as a whole, is Noah Webster. He famously proposed a number of potential simplifications of the English language in his Compendious Dictionary in 1806, and then again in his American Dictionary of the English Language in 1828. Webster’s proposals, however, were actually inspired by the earlier work of Benjamin Franklin, whose idea for reforming the English language involved both adopting a purely phonetic spelling system and dropping the letters C, J, Q, W, X, and Y from the alphabet entirely, to be replaced by six less potentially ambiguous letters of his own design.

Franklin devised his phonetic alphabet as far back as 1768, when he wrote a letter to a friend to explain that “if we go on as we have done a few Centuries longer, our words will gradually cease to express Sounds; they will only stand for things, as the written words do in the Chinese Language.” Although Franklin’s ultimate goal of increasing literacy and making English easier to learn was commendable, his friend, Mary "Polly" Stevenson, was unimpressed with his proposal. Using Franklin’s invented alphabet for her reply, she pointed out that using a purely phonetic alphabet meant cutting the ties between spelling and etymology, and would make differentiating between words that sound the same all but impossible. Webster, however, was more enthusiastic.

In 1786, he sent his own plan for a purely phonetic alphabet to Franklin, hoping to win his support in establishing it as a national standard. Franklin responded positively, saying, “I think the Reformation not only necessary but practicable.” The founding father suggested that, since he had already done a great deal of work on the subject (and due to inherent difficulties in discussing such things in letter format), the two should meet up to discuss a path forward. But in reality, Franklin no doubt envisaged the enormous difficulty in implementing such a scheme nationwide.

The idea was eventually abandoned, and Webster—driven by a desire to sever ties between the English used in Great Britain and the English used in the newly independent United States—was left to pursue much less radical changes. Although not all of the spelling reforms he went on to suggest may have hit the mark (his preference for the spellings tung, soop, aker, dawter, porpess, beleev, and masheen leave a lot to be desired), Webster was more successful when it came to the likes of dropping the extraneous letters of colour, waggon, and publick, and simplifying the spelling of words like plough and aeon—changes that continue to divide British and American English today.

PITMAN SHORTHAND AND BRIGHAM YOUNG'S ALPHABET

Other attempts to reform the language followed on both sides of the Atlantic throughout the 19th century. In the 1830s, the British schoolteacher Isaac Pitman published a series of pamphlets arguing for a reform of the English language; his research eventually led to his invention of a shorthand writing system. In 1842, a French scholar named Auguste Thibaudin proposed an insanely complicated alphanumeric system—albeit one that would work across all languages that used the Roman alphabet—in which different vowel sounds were replaced with the numbers from 1 to 9 and six additional symbols. Even Mormon Church leader Brigham Young got in on the act in 1854, advocating that his followers use a “Deseret Alphabet” developed by a committee at the University of Deseret (now the University of Utah). And following the formation of the Spelling Reform Association in 1876, in 1898 America’s National Education Association put its weight (with varying degrees of success) behind the adoption of 12 of the SRA’s suggested reforms in all educational material nationwide: program, tho, altho, thoro, thorofare, thru, thruout, catalog, prolog, decalog, demagog, and pedagog.

But perhaps the last major attempt to reform the English spelling system came almost a century after the publication of Webster’s Compendious Dictionary, and it was this final attempt that gained the support of President Roosevelt—and the most powerful and well-known American writers and figures of the day.

CARNEGIE AND THE SIMPLIFIED SPELLING BOARD

The Simplified Spelling Board was founded in 1906 by the Scottish-born steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. Carnegie had long had an interest in language and the arts (he funded and gave his name to more than 2500 libraries worldwide), and, prompted by the various attempts at simplifying the language in the 1800s, soon turned his attention to spelling reform after the turn of the century. Given his background in business and overseas trade, Carnegie saw the potential for English to become, as The New York Times put it, “the world language of the future,” and saw a single global language common to everyone as a stepping stone to world peace. But in this respect, he believed, English was being held back by its “contradictory and difficult spelling.”

In response, Carnegie funded the establishment of a board of experts tasked with reforming the language to make it easier to learn and more economical, both linguistically and financially—removing all the unnecessary letters from all the words in the language could, after all, save a considerable amount of ink and paper.

As the Board’s first published circular explained in 1906:

[The present English spelling system] wastes a large part of time and effort given to the instruction of our children, keeping them, for example, from one to two years behind the schoolchildren of Germany … Moreover, the printing, typewriting and handwriting of the useless letters which our spelling prescribes … wastes every year millions of dollars, and time and effort worth millions more.

Carnegie set aside $15,000 per year (eventually raised to an eye-watering $25,000) for five years to fund the project, equivalent to well over $2 million today. He secured a plush office space on Madison Avenue in New York, and there assembled a group of 30 writers, language experts, scholars, and public figures—among them Melvil Dewey (of the Dewey Decimal System) and David Josiah Brewer (Associate Justice of the Supreme Court). According to its chairman, Columbia University’s professor of dramatic literature Brander Matthews, the principal aim of the Simplified Spelling Board was merely to accelerate the kinds of language changes that were likely to occur over time anyway, regardless of the Board’s involvement. To that end, they were to focus in particular on dropping unneeded or unpronounced letters—or, as Professor Matthews put it, a kind of “simplification by omission.”

Their first task was merely to advocate further the 12 spelling reforms put forward by the Spelling Reform and National Education Associations in 1898, which entailed lobbying several influential writers and publications (The New York Times among them) to utilize the reforms in their work. But having set to work themselves, it wasn’t long before the Board had soon assembled its own selection of 300 such reforms, which they published in full at the end of March 1906.

KIST, MIST, PAST: THE BOARD'S SUGGESTED REFORMS

Many of the Board’s own suggestions had already been proposed by Webster, or else were already establishing themselves as perfectly acceptable spelling variations in American English, like center, checks, esthetic, theater, and sulfurous; the use of S instead of C in words like offense and defense; and the dropping of the extraneous E's in the likes of judgment, lodgment, and acknowledgment. Many of the Board’s choices were likewise relatively understandable alterations, aimed merely at simplifying troublesome words. So the G was lost from apothegm, and the vowel clusters in words like archaeology, subpoena, and diaeresis were reduced. Other suggestions, however, were more radical.

Purr and burr were to be clipped to pur and bur. Out went the letter A in the middle of deth. Steadfast became stedfast. Hard S's were to be changed to Z's, so that surprise, compromise, and partisan became surprize, compromize, and partizan. Rhyme became rime. Phoenix became phenix. Gazelle became gazel. And, perhaps most bizarrely of all, the straightforward –ed endings of a number of words were to be uncompromisingly replaced with –t, so that as well as kist, addrest, propt, wrapt, clapt, flipt, and dipt, the word passed became past and the word missed became mist, regardless of any potential confusion that might cause.

Despite several questionable choices and troublesome shortcomings like these, the Board’s suggestions were initially well received by the press and were even advocated by the New York Board of Education for use in the city’s schools. But the biggest step forward came several months after the list was published, on August 27, 1906: Reportedly without contacting the Board first, President Roosevelt issued an executive order forcing all future publications of the Government Printing Office to adopt the new spelling system in its entirety. The move was an immense, if somewhat unexpected, coup for the success of the Board’s project—but, as it turned out, it was one that would eventually lead to its collapse.

BACKLASH AND THE AFTERMATH: THE RESPONSE TO RUSEVELT'S RULES

Roosevelt’s characteristically no-nonsense and swift-acting approach was nothing new (he passed more than 1000 executive orders during his presidency; Barack Obama has signed around 250). But his steamroller approach to the language and to spelling reform did not go down well, both at home and abroad. A wave of satirical cartoons and damning newspaper editorials ensued on both sides of the Atlantic, all of them mocking the President’s apparent war on language.

"Nuthing escapes Mr. Rucevelt. No subject is tu hi fr him to takl, nor tu lo for him tu notis. He makes tretis without the consent of the Senit. He inforces such laws as meet his approval, and fales to se those that do not soot him. He now assales the English langgwidg, constitutes himself as a sort of Frensh academy, and will reform the spelling in a way tu soot himself."

—The Louisville Courier-Journal, 1906

The Baltimore Sun questioned whether President Roosevelt would now spell his name “Rusevelt.” The New York Times reported that “Roosevelt’s spelling order has done him more harm than perhaps any other act of his since he became president.” In Britain, the feeling was even more vitriolic: the Pall Mall Gazette labeled him “an anarchist,” while the Saturday Review called America “The Home of the Free and the Paradise of the Half-Educated.” The London Evening Standard raged, “How dare this Roosevelt fellow … dictate to us how to spell a language which was ours while America was still a savage and undiscovered country!” Even Roosevelt’s wife, Edith, joked that the president only supported the reform because he didn’t know “how to spell anything.”

In the face of all this criticism, the Supreme Court chose to ignore Roosevelt’s decree—but the President remained steadfast, even going so far as to employ the spelling system he was so staunchly advocating in his annual address to Congress in 1906, in which he wrote of naval recruits being “put thru” too quickly to senior grades at “regimental posts scattered thruout the country.” But it was all for nothing: On December 13, 1906, the House of Representatives voted 142–25 to banish the suggested spelling reforms from their publications, and dictated instead that all United States government documents “should observe and adhere to the standard of orthography prescribed in generally accepted dictionaries of the English language.” Roosevelt was defeated.

Despite a protest by Professor Matthews, the president immediately repealed his executive order, stating that it was “evidently worse than useless to go into an undignified contest” against Congress, but concluded finally that, “I am mighty glad I did the thing anyhow.” Mark Twain was just as disappointed, and wrote to Carnegie to say that “I am sory as a dog, for I do love revolutions and violense.” Carnegie didn’t lose faith immediately, though. He continued funding the group through 1915 when, $300,000 poorer, he wrote to Matthews to explain that he was withdrawing its funding: “I think I have been patient long enuf,” he wrote. “I have a much better use for twenty-five thousand dollars a year.”

Both Roosevelt and Carnegie died in 1919, after which the Board struggled to secure more funding. Their last act was to publish a Handbook of Simplified Spelling, written wholly in their reformed English, in 1920, before they finally disbanded later that year. Although a number of the Board’s suggested reforms remain in place today, on the whole the project failed to have much of a lasting effect on the language—despite having the backing of a president.

The ChopBox Smart Cutting Board Has a Food Scale, Timer, and Knife Sharper Built Right Into It

ChopBox
ChopBox

When it comes to furnishing your kitchen with all of the appliances necessary to cook night in and night out, you’ll probably find yourself running out of counter space in a hurry. The ChopBox, which is available on Indiegogo and dubs itself “The World’s First Smart Cutting Board,” looks to fix that by cramming a bunch of kitchen necessities right into one cutting board.

In addition to giving you a knife-resistant bamboo surface to slice and dice on, the ChopBox features a built-in digital scale that weighs up to 6.6 pounds of food, a nine-hour kitchen timer, and two knife sharpeners. It also sports a groove on its surface to catch any liquid runoff that may be produced by the food and has a second pull-out cutting board that doubles as a serving tray.

There’s a 254nm UVC light featured on the board, which the company says “is guaranteed to kill 99.99% of germs and bacteria" after a minute of exposure. If you’re more of a traditionalist when it comes to cleanliness, the ChopBox is completely waterproof (but not dishwasher-safe) so you can wash and scrub to your heart’s content without worry. 

According to the company, a single one-hour charge will give you 30 days of battery life, and can be recharged through a Micro USB port.

The ChopBox reached its $10,000 crowdfunding goal just 10 minutes after launching its campaign, but you can still contribute at different tiers. Once it’s officially released, the ChopBox will retail for $200, but you can get one for $100 if you pledge now. You can purchase the ChopBox on Indiegogo here.

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11 Fascinating Facts About Tamagotchi

Tamagotchi is the toy that launched a thousand digital pet competitors.
Tamagotchi is the toy that launched a thousand digital pet competitors.
Chesnot/Getty Images News

They blooped and beeped and ate, played, and pooped, and, for ‘90s kids, the egg-shaped Tamagotchi toys were magic. They taught the responsibility of tending to a “pet,” even though their shrill sounds were annoying to parents and teachers and school administrators. Nearly-real funerals were held for expired Tamagotchi, and they’ve even been immortalized in a museum (of sorts). Here are 11 things you should know about the keychain toy that was once stashed in every kid’s backpack.

1. The idea for the Tamagotchi came from a female office worker at Bandai.

Aki Maita was a 30-year-old “office lady” at the Japanese toy company Bandai when inspiration struck. She wanted to create a pet for kids—one that wouldn't bark or meow, make a mess in the house, or lead to large vet bills, according to Culture Trip. Maita took her idea to Akihiro Yokoi, a toy designer at another company, and the duo came up with a name and backstory for their toy: Tamagotchis were aliens, and their egg served as protection from the Earth’s atmosphere. They gave prototype Tamagotchis to high school girls in Shibuya, and tweaked and honed the design of the toy based on their feedback.

2. The name Tamagotchi is a blend of two Japanese words.

The name Tamagotchi is a mashup between the Japanese words tamago and tomodachi, or egg and friend, according to Culture Trip. (Other sources have the name meaning "cute little egg" or "loveable egg.")

3. Tamagotchis were released in Japan in 1996.

A picture of a tamagotchi toy.
Tamagotchis came from a faraway planet called "Planet Tamagotchi."
Museum Rotterdam, Wikimedia Commons//CC BY-SA 3.0

Bandai released the Tamagotchi in Japan in November 1996. The tiny plastic keychain egg was equipped with a monochrome LCD screen that contained a “digital pet,” which hatched from an egg and grew quickly from there—one day for a Tamagotchi was equivalent to one year for a human. Their owners used three buttons to feed, discipline, play with, give medicine to, and clean up after their digital pet. It would make its demands known at all hours of the day through bloops and bleeps, and owners would have to feed it or bathe it or entertain it.

Owners that successfully raised their Tamagotchi to adulthood would get one of seven characters, depending on how they'd raised it; owners that were less attentive faced a sadder scenario. “Leave one unattended for a few hours and you'll return to find that it has pooped on the floor or, worse, died,” Wired wrote. The digital pets would eventually die of old age at around the 28-day mark, and owners could start fresh with a new Tamagotchi.

4. Tamagotchis were an immediate hit.

The toys were a huge success—4 million units were reportedly sold in Japan during their first four months on shelves. By 1997, Tamagotchis had made their way to the United States. They sold for $17.99, or around $29 in today's dollars. One (adult) reviewer noted that while he was "drawn in by [the Tamagotchi's] cleverness," after several days with the toy, "the thrill faded quickly. I'm betting the Tamagotchi will be the Pet Rock of the 1990s—overwhelmingly popular for a few months, and then abandoned in the fickle rush to some even cuter toy."

The toy was, in fact, overwhelmingly popular: By June 1997, 10 million of the toys had been shipped around the world. And according to a 2017 NME article, a whopping 82 million Tamagotchi had been sold since their release into the market in 1997.

5. Aki Maita and Akihiro Yokoi won an award for inventing the Tamagotchi.

In 1997, the duo won an Ig Nobel Prize in economics, a satiric prize that’s nonetheless presented by Nobel laureates at Harvard, for "diverting millions of person-hours of work into the husbandry of virtual pets" by creating the Tamagotchi.

6. Tamagotchis weren't popular with teachers.

Some who grew up with Tamagotchi remember sneaking the toys into school in their book bags. The toys were eventually banned in some schools because they were too distracting and, in some cases, upsetting for students. In a 1997 Baltimore Sun article titled “The Tamagotchi Generation,” Andrew Ratner wrote that the principal at his son’s elementary school sent out a memo forbidding the toys “because some pupils got so despondent after their Tamagotchis died that they needed consoling, even care from the school nurse.”

7. One pet cemetery served as a burial ground for expired Tamagotchi.

Terry Squires set aside a small portion of his pet cemetery in southern England for dead Tamagotchi. He told CNN in 1998 that he had performed burials for Tamagotchi owners from Germany, Switzerland, France, the United States, and Canada, all of whom ostensibly shipped their dead by postal mail. CNN noted that "After the Tamagotchis are placed in their coffins, they are buried as mourners look on, their final resting places topped with flowers."

8. There were many copycat Tamagotchi.

The success of the Tamagotchi resulted in both spin-offs and copycat toys, leading PC Mag to dub the late ’90s “The Golden Age of Virtual Pets.” There was the Digimon, a Tamagotchi spin-off by Bandai that featured monsters and was marketed to boys. (There were also Tamagotchi video games.) And in 1997, Tiger Electronics launched Giga Pets, which featured real animals (and, later, dinosaurs and fictional pets from TV shows). According to PC Mag, Giga Pets were very popular in the United States but “never held the same mystique as the original Tamagotchi units.” Toymaker Playmates's Nano Pets were also a huge success, though PC Mag noted they were “some of the least satisfying to take care of."

9. Rare Tamagotchis can be worth a lot of money.

According to Business Insider, most vintage Tamagotchis won't fetch big bucks on the secondary market. (On eBay, most are priced at around $50.) The exception are rare editions like “Yasashii Blue” and “Tamagotchi Ocean,” which go for $300 to $450 on eBay. As Complex notes, "There were over 40 versions (lines) of Tamagotchi released, and each line featured a variety of colors and variations ... yours would have to be one of the rarest models to be worth the effort of resale."

10. A new generation of Tamagotchis were released in 2017 for the toy's 20th anniversary.

The 2017 re-release of the Tamagotchi in its packaging.
Bandai came to the aid of nostalgic '90s kids when it re-released a version of the original Tamagotchis for the toy's 20th anniversary.
Chesnot/Getty Images

In November 2017, Bandai released a 20th anniversary Tamagotchi that, according to a press release [PDF], was "a first-of-its-kind-anywhere exact replica of the original Tamagotchi handheld digital pet launched ... in 1996." However, as The Verge reported, the toys weren't an exact replica: "They're about half the size, the LCD display is square rather than rectangle, and those helpful icons on the top and bottom of the screen seem to be gone now." In 2019, new Tamagotchis were released; they were larger than the originals, featured full-color displays, and retailed for $60.

11. The original Tamagotchi’s sound has been immortalized in a virtual museum.

The Museum of Endangered Sounds is a website that seeks to immortalize the digital sounds that become extinct as we hurtle through the evolution of technology. “The crackle of a dial-up modem. The metallic clack of a 3.5-inch floppy slotting into a Macintosh disk drive. The squeal of the newborn Tamagotchi. They are vintage sounds that no oldies station is ever going to touch,” The Washington Post wrote in a 2012 profile of the museum. So, yes, the sound of that little Tamagotchi is forever preserved, should it someday, very sadly, cease to exist completely.