During the period of about three-quarters of a century in which the
State of Indiana and its people have been designated by the word
"Hoosier," there has been a large amount of discussion of the origin and
meaning of the term, but with a notable lack of any satisfactory result.
Some of these discussions have been almost wholly conjectural in
character, but others have been more methodical, and of the latter the
latest and most exhaustive--that of Mr. Meredith Nicholson[1]--sums up
the results in the statement "The origin of the term 'Hoosier' is not
known with certainty." Indeed the statement might properly have been
made much broader, for a consideration of the various theories offered
leaves the unprejudiced investigator with the feeling that the real
solution of the problem has not even been suggested. This lack of
satisfactory conclusions, however, may be of some value, for it strongly
suggests the probability that the various theorists have made some false
assumption of fact, and have thus been thrown on a false scent, at the
very beginning of their investigations.
As is natural in such a case, there has been much of assertion of what
was merely conjectural, often accompanied by the pioneer's effort to
make evidence of his theory by the statement that he was "in Indiana at
the time and knows the facts." The acceptance of all such testimony
would necessarily lead to the adoption of several conflicting
conclusions. In addition to this cause of error, there have crept into
the discussion several misstatements of fact that have been commonly
adopted, and it is evident that in order to reach any reliable
conclusion now, it will be necessary to examine the facts critically and
ascertain what are tenable.
The traditional belief in Indiana is that the word was first put in
print by John Finley, in his poem "The Hoosiers Nest," and this is
noted by Berry Sulgrove, who was certainly as well acquainted with
Indiana tradition as any man of his time.[2] This belief is at least
probably well founded, for up to the present time no prior use of the
word in print has been discovered. This poem attracted much attention at
the time, and was unquestionably the chief cause of the widespread
adoption of the word in its application to Indiana, for which reasons it
becomes a natural starting-point in the inquiry.
It is stated by Oliver H. Smith that this poem originally appeared as a
New Year's "carriers' address" of the Indianapolis Journal in 1830,[3]
and this statement has commonly been followed by other writers, but this
is clearly erroneous, as any one may see by inspection of the files of
the Journal, for it printed its address in the body of the paper in
1830, and it is a totally different production. After that year it
discontinued this practice and issued its addresses on separate sheets,
as is commonly done at present. No printed copy of the original
publication is in existence, so far as known, but Mr. Finley's
daughter--Mrs. Sarah Wrigley, former librarian of the Morrison Library,
at Richmond, Indiana--has a manuscript copy, in the author's
handwriting, which fixes the date of publication as Jan. 1, 1833. There
is no reason to question this date, although Mr. Finley states in his
little volume of poems printed in 1860, that this poem was written in
1830. The poem as it originally appeared was never reprinted in full, so
far as is known, and in that form it is entirely unknown to the present
generation, although it has been reproduced in several forms, and in two
of them by direct authority of the author.[4] The author used his
privilege of revising his work, and while he may have improved his
poetry, he seriously marred its historical value.
As the manuscript copy is presumably a literal transcript of the
original publication, with possibly the exception that the title may
have been added at a later date, I reproduce it here in full:
ADDRESS
Of the Carrier of the Indianapolis Journal,
January 1, 1833.
THE HOOSIER'S NEST.
Compelled to seek the Muse's aid,
Your carrier feels almost dismay'd
When he attempts in nothing less
Than verse his patrons to address,
Aware how very few excel
In the fair art he loves so well,
And that the wight who would pursue it
Must give his whole attention to it;
But, ever as his mind delights
To follow fancy's airy flights
Some object of terrestrial mien
Uncourteously obtrudes between
And rudely scatters to the winds
The tangled threads of thought he spins;
His wayward, wild imagination
Seeks objects of its own creation
Where Joy and Pleasure, hand in hand,
Escort him over "Fairyland,"
Till some imperious earth-born care
Will give the order, "As you were!"
From this the captious may infer
That I am but a groveling cur
Who would essay to pass for more
Than other people take me for,
So, lest my friends be led to doubt it,
I think I'll say no more about it,
But hope that on this noted day
My annual tribute of a lay
In dogg'rel numbers will suffice
For such as are not over nice.
The great events which have occur'd
(And all have seen, or read or heard)
Within a year, are quite too many
For me to tarry long on any--
Then let not retrospection roam
But be confined to things at home.
A four years' wordy war just o'er
Has left us where we were before
Old Hick'ry triumphs,--we submit
(Although we thought another fit)
For all of Jeffersonian school
Wish the majority to rule--
Elected for another term
We hope his measures will be firm
But peaceful, as the case requires
To nullify the nullifiers--
And if executive constructions
By inf'rence prove the sage deductions
That Uncle Sam's "old Mother Bank"
Is managed by a foreign crank
And constituted by adoption
The "heir apparent" of corruption--
No matter if the facts will show
That such assertions are not so,
His Veto vengeance must pursue her
And all that are appended to her--
But tho' hard times may sorely press us,
And want, and debts, and duns distress us,
We'll share a part of Mammon's manna
By chart'ring Banks in Indiana.
Blest Indiana! In whose soil
Men seek the sure rewards of toil,
And honest poverty and worth
Find here the best retreat on earth,
While hosts of Preachers, Doctors, Lawyers,
All independent as wood-sawyers,
With men of every hue and fashion,
Flock to this rising "Hoosher" nation.
Men who can legislate or plow,
Wage politics or milk a cow--
So plastic are their various parts,
Within the circle of their arts,
With equal tact the "Hoosher" loons,
Hunt offices or hunt raccoons.
A captain, colonel, or a 'squire,
Who would ascend a little higher,
Must court the people, honest souls.
He bows, caresses and cajoles,
Till they conceive he has more merit
Than nature willed he should inherit,
And, running counter to his nature,
He runs into the Legislature,
Where if he pass for wise and mute,
Or chance to steer the proper chute,
In half a dozen years or more
He's qualified for Congress floor.
I would not have the world suppose
Our public men are all like those,
For even in this infant State
Some may be wise, and good, and great.
But, having gone so far, 'twould seem
(Since "Hoosher" manners is the theme)
That I, lest strangers take exception,
Should give a more minute description,
And if my strains be not seraphic
I trust you'll find them somewhat graphic.
Suppose in riding somewhere West
A stranger found a "Hoosher's" nest,
In other words, a buckeye cabin
Just big enough to hold Queen Mab in,
Its situation low but airy
Was on the borders of a prairie,
And fearing he might be benighted
He hailed the house and then alighted
The "Hoosher" met him at the door,
Their salutations soon were o'er;
He took the stranger's horse aside
And to a sturdy sapling tied;
Then, having stripped the saddle off,
He fed him in a sugar trough.
The stranger stooped to enter in,
The entrance closing with a pin,
And manifested strong desire
To seat him by the log heap fire,
Where half a dozen Hoosheroons,
With mush and milk, tincups and spoons,
White heads, bare feet and dirty faces,
Seemed much inclined to keep their places,
But Madam, anxious to display
Her rough and undisputed sway,
Her offspring to the ladder led
And cuffed the youngsters up to bed.
Invited shortly to partake
Of venison, milk and johnny-cake
The stranger made a hearty meal
And glances round the room would steal;
One side was lined with skins of "varments"
The other spread with divers garments,
Dried pumpkins overhead were strung
Where venison hams in plenty hung,
Two rifles placed above the door,
Three dogs lay stretched upon the floor,
In short, the domicile was rife,
With specimens of "Hoosher" life.
The host who centered his affections,
On game, and range, and quarter sections
Discoursed his weary guest for hours,
Till Somnus' ever potent powers
Of sublunary cares bereft them
And then I came away and left them.
No matter how the story ended
The application I intended
Is from the famous Scottish poet
Who seemed to feel as well as know it
"That buirdly chiels and clever hizzies
Are bred in sic a way as this is."
One more subject I'll barely mention
To which I ask your kind attention
My pockets are so shrunk of late
I can not nibble "Hoosher bait."
It will be noted that throughout the manuscript the word is spelled
"Hoosher" and is always put in quotation marks. Mrs. Wrigley informs me
that her father had no knowledge of the origin of the word, but found it
in verbal use when he wrote. She is confident, however, that he coined
the word "hoosheroon," and the probability of this is increased by the
fact that he did not quote it in his manuscript. In later editions of
the poem he used the form "Hoosier." His original spelling shows that
the word was not common in print, and several years passed before the
spelling became fixed in its present form.
Although the word "Hoosier" has not been found in print earlier than
January 1, 1833, it became common enough immediately afterwards. In fact
the term seems to have met general approval, and to have been accepted
by everybody. On January 8, 1833, at the Jackson dinner at Indianapolis,
John W. Davis gave the toast, "The Hooshier State of Indiana."[5] On
August 3, 1833, the Indiana Democrat published the following prospectus
of a new paper to be established by ex-Gov. Ray and partner:
PROSPECTUS
FOR PUBLISHING
THE HOOSIER
AT GREENCASTLE, INDIANA,
BY J. B. RAY & W. M. TANNEHILL.
We intend publishing a real _Newspaper_. To this promise,
(though comprehensive enough) we would add, that it is
intended to make the _moral_ and political world contribute
their full share, in enriching its columns.
The arts and sciences, and agriculture and commerce, and
literature shall all receive a due portion of our care.
Left to our choice we might refrain from remark on presidential
matters; but supposing, that you may require an intimation,
suffice it to say, that our past preference has been for
General Jackson and his administration; and we deem it
premature to decide as to the future without knowing who are to
be the candidates. Those men who shall sustain _Western
measures_, shall be our men. Believing that there is but _one_
interest in the _West_, and but little occasion for partyism
beyond the investigation of principles and the conduct of
functionaries, we would rather encourage _union_ than excite
_division_. We shall constantly keep in view the happiness,
interest and prosperity of _all_. To the _good_, this paper
will be as a shield; to the _bad_, a terror.
The Hoosier will be published weekly, at $2 in advance and 25
cents for every three months delay of payment, per annum, on a
good sheet of paper of superroyal size, to be enlarged to an
imperial as the subscription will justify it.
This paper shall do honor to the people of Putnam county; and
we expect to see them patronize us. The press is now at
Greencastle. Let subscription papers be returned by the 1st of
Sept. when the first number will appear.
On Oct. 26, 1833 the Indiana Democrat republished from the Cincinnati
Republican a discussion of the origin and making of the word "Hoosier,"
which will be quoted in full hereafter, which shows that the term had
then obtained general adoption. C. F. Hoffman, a traveler who passed
through the northern part of the state, says, under date of Dec. 29,
1833:
I am now in the land of the _Hooshiers_, and find that
long-haired race much more civilized than some of their Western
neighbors are willing to represent them. The term "Hooshier,"
like that of Yankee, or Buckeye, first applied contemptuously,
has now become a _soubriquet_ that bears nothing invidious with
it to the ear of an Indianian.[6]
On Jan. 4, 1834, the Indiana Democrat quoted from the Maysville, Ky.,
Monitor, "The _Hoosier_ State like true democrats have taken the lead in
appointing delegates to a National Convention etc." On May 10, 1834, the
Indianapolis Journal printed the following editorial paragraph:
The Hooshier, started some time ago by Messrs. Ray and
Tannehill, at Greencastle, has sunk into repose; and a new
paper entitled the "Greencastle Advertiser," published by
James M. Grooms, has taken its place.
It is quite possible that this statement was made with the mischievous
intent of stirring up Gov. Ray, for he was rather sensitive, and the
Whigs seemed to delight in starting stories that called forth indignant
denials from him. If this was the purpose it was successful, for on May
31 the Journal said:
We understand that another No. of the Hooshier has been
recently received in town, and that it contains quite a bitter
complaint about our remark a week or two ago, that it had "sunk
into repose." We assure the Editor that we made the remark as a
mere matter of news, without any intention to rejoice at the
suspension of the paper. Several weeks had passed over without
any paper being received, and it was currently reported that it
had "blowed out" and therefore, as a mere passing remark, we
stated that it had "sunk into repose." We have no objection
that it should live a thousand years.
The new paper, however, did not last as long as that. It was sold in the
fall of 1834 to J. W. Osborn who continued the publication, but changed
the name, in the following spring, to the "Western Plough Boy." On Sept.
19, 1834, the Indiana Democrat had the following reference to Mr.
Finley:
The poet _laureat_ of Hoosierland and editor of the Richmond
Palladium has threatened to cut acquaintance with B. of the
Democrat!! The gentleman alluded to is the same individual that
was unceremoniously robbed, by the Cincinnati Chronicle, of the
credit of immortalizing our State in verse, by that justly
celebrated epic of the "Hoosier's Nest."
On Nov. 29. 1834, the Vincennes Sun used the caption, "Hoosier and
Mammoth Pumpkins," over an article reprinted from the Cincinnati Mirror
concerning a load of big pumpkins from Indiana.
These extracts sufficiently demonstrate the general acceptation of the
name in the two years following the publication of Finley's poem. The
diversified spelling of the word at this period shows that it was new in
print, and indeed some years elapsed before the now accepted spelling
became universal. On Jan. 6, 1838 the Ft. Wayne Sentinel, republished
the portion of the poem beginning with the words, "Blest Indiana, in
her soil." It was very probable that this publication was made directly
from an original copy of the carrier's address, for Thomas Tigar, one of
the founders and editors of the Ft. Wayne Sentinel, had been connected
with the Indianapolis press in January 1833, and the old-fashioned
newspaperman was accustomed to preserve articles that struck his fancy,
and reproduce them. In this publication the poem is given as in the
Finley manuscript, except that the first two times the word occurs it is
spelled "hoosier" and once afterward "hoosheer," the latter evidently a
typograpical error. At the other points it is spelled "hoosher." This
original form of the word also indicates that there has been some change
in the pronunciation, and this is confirmed from another source. For
many years there have been perodical discussions of the origin of the
word in the newspapers of the State, and in one of these, which occurred
in the Indianapolis Journal, in 1860, when numerous contemporaries of
Finley were still living, Hon. Jere Smith, a prominent citizen of
Winchester, made this statement:
My recollection is that the word began to be used in this
country in the fall of 1824, but it might have been as late as
1826 or 1827, when the Louisville & Portland canal was being
made. I first heard it at a corn-husking. It was used in the
sense of "rip-roaring," "half horse" and "half alligator," and
such like backwoods coinages. It was then, and for some years
afterwards, spoken as if spelled "husher," the "u" having the
sound it has in "bush," "push," etc. In 1829, 1830 and 1831 its
sound glided into "hoosher," till finally Mr. Finley's
"Hoosier's Nest" made the present orthography and pronunciation
classical, and it has remained so since.[7]
Of course, this is not conclusive evidence that there was a change in
pronunciation, for Mr. Smith's observation may have extended to one
neighborhood only, and it may have taken on a variant pronunciation at
the start, but his testimony, in connection with the changed spelling,
is certainly very plausible.
There have been offered a number of explanations of the origin of the
word, and naturally those most commonly heard are those that have been
most extensively presented in print. Of the "authorities" on the subject
perhaps the best known is Bartlett "Dictionary of Americanism's" which
was originally published in 1838 and was widely circulated in that and
the subsequent edition, besides being frequently quoted. Its statement
is as follows:
Hoosier. A nickname given at the West, to natives of Indiana.
A correspondent of the Providence Journal, writing from
Indiana, gives the following account of the origin of this
term:
Throughout all the early Western settlements were men
who rejoiced in their physical strength, and on numerous
occasions, at log-rollings and house-raisings, demonstrated
this to their entire satisfaction. They were styled by their
fellow-citizens, hushers, from their primary capacity to still
their opponents. It was a common term for a bully throughout
the West. The boatmen of Indiana were formerly as rude and
primitive a set as could well belong to a civilized country,
and they were often in the habit of displaying their pugilistic
accomplishments upon the levee at New Orleans. Upon a certain
occasion there one of these rustic professors of the "noble
art" very adroitly and successfully practiced the "fancy" upon
several individuals at one time. Being himself not a native of
the Western world, in the exuberance of his exultation he
sprang up, exclaiming, in a foreign accent, "I'm a hoosier, I'm
a hoosier." Some of the New Orleans papers reported the case,
and afterwards transferred the corruption of the word "husher"
(hoosier) to all the boatmen from Indiana, and from thence to
all her citizens. The Kentuckians, on the contrary, maintained
that the nickname expresses the gruff exclamation of their
neighbors, when one knocks at a door, etc., "Who's yere?"
Both of these theories have had adherents, and especially the latter,
though nobody has ever found any basis for their historical features
beyond the assertion of this newspaper correspondent. Nobody has ever
produced any evidence of the use of the word "husher" as here indicated.
It is not found in any dictionary of any kind--not even in Bartlett's. I
have never found any indication of its former use or its present
survival. And there is no greater evidence of the use of the expression
"Who's yere?" when approaching a house. As a matter of fact, the common
custom when coming to a house and desiring communication with the
residents was to call, "Hallo the house!" And this custom is referred
to in Finley's line:
He hailed the house, and then alighted.
Furthermore, if a person who came to a house called "Who's yere?" what
cause would there be for calling the people who lived in the house
"who's yeres?" There is neither evidence nor reason to support it. But
there is still a stronger reason for discarding these theories, and most
others. To produce the change of a word or term by corruption, there
must be practical identity of sound and accent. It was natural enough
for the Indiana pioneers to convert "au poste" into "Opost." It was
natural enough for the New Mexican settlers to change "Jicarilla" to
"Hickory." It was natural enough for the Colorado cowboys to transform
"Purgatoire river" to "Picketwire river." But there is scant possibility
of changing "husher," or "who's yere"--as it would probably be
spoken--into "hoosh-er." This consideration has led to the suggestion
that the expression from which the word came was "who is yer?" but there
is nothing to support this. The early settlers did not use "is" for
"are" but usually pronounced the latter "air." And they did not say
"yer" for "you," though they often used it for "your."
Another theory, almost as popular as these, derives the word from
"hussar," and this theory, in its various forms, harks back to a Col.
John Jacob Lehmanowsky, who served under Napoleon, and afterwards
settled in Indiana, where he became widely known as a lecturer on the
Napoleonic wars. The tradition preserved in his family is that once
while in Kentucky he became engaged in a dispute with some natives, and
sought to settle the matter by announcing that he was a hussar. They
understood him to say that he was a "hoosier," and thereafter applied
that name to everybody from Indiana. This theory has several shapes, one
being presented by the Rev. Aaron Wood, the pioneer preacher, thus:
The name "hoosier" originated as follows: When the young men of
the Indiana side of the Ohio river went to Louisville, the
Kentucky men boasted over them, calling them "New Purchase
Greenies," claiming to be a superior race, composed of half
horse, half alligator, and tipped off with snapping turtle.
These taunts produced fights in the market house and streets of
Louisville. On one occasion a stout bully from Indiana was
victor in a fist fight, and having heard Colonel Lehmanowsky
lecture on the "Wars of Europe," who always gave martial
prowess to the German Hussars in a fight, pronouncing hussars
"hoosiers" the Indianian, when the Kentuckian cried "enough,"
jumped up and said: "I am a Hoosier," and hence the Indianians
were called by that name. This was its true origin. I was in
the State when it occured.[8]
Unfortunately, others are equally positive as to their "true origins."
The chief objection that has been urged to this theory is that
Lehmanowsky was not in the State when the term began to be used, and the
evidence on this point is not very satisfactory. His son, M. L.
Lehmanowsky, of DePauw, Ind., informs me that his father came to this
country in 1815, but he is unable to fix the date of his removal to
Indiana. Published sketches of his life[9] state that he was with
Napoleon at Waterloo; that he was afterwards imprisoned at Paris; that
he escaped and made his way to New York; that he remained for several
years at New York and Philadelphia where he taught school; that he came
to Rush county, Indiana, and there married and bought a farm; that after
bearing him seven children his wife died; that he then removed to
Harrison county, arriving there in 1837. These data would indicate that
he came to Indiana sometime before 1830. The date of the deed to his
farm, as shown by the Rush county records, is April 30, 1835. Aside from
the question of date, it is not credible that a Polish officer
pronounced "hussar" "hoosier," or that from the use of that word by a
known foreigner a new term could spring into existence, and so quickly
be applied to the natives of the State where he chanced to live.
To these theories of the origin of the word may be added one
communicated to me by James Whitcomb Riley, whose acquaintance with
dialect makes him an authority on the subject. It is evidently of later
origin than the others, and not so well known to the public. A casual
conversation happening to turn to this subject, he said: "These stories
commonly told about the origin of the word 'Hoosier' are all nonsense.
The real origin is found in the pugnacious habits of the early settlers.
They were very vicious fighters, and not only gouged and scratched, but
frequently bit off noses and ears. This was so ordinary an affair that a
settler coming into a bar room on a morning after a fight, and seeing an
ear on the floor, would merely push it aside with his foot and
carelessly ask, 'Who's year'?" I feel safe in venturing the opinion that
this theory is quite as plausible, and almost as well sustained by
historical evidence, as any of the others.
In this connection it is of interest to note the earliest known
discussion of the meaning of the word, which has been referred to as
republished in the Indiana Democrat of Oct. 26, 1833. It is as follows: