Are Lobsters Ambidextrous? Page 3

Why do the Oakland Athletics’ uniforms have elephant patches on their sleeves?

  The elephant may be the symbol of the Republican party, but partisan politics was the last thing on Connie Mack’s mind when the legendary owner of the Philadelphia Athletics decided to adopt the white elephant as his team’s insignia. Rival New York Giants manager John McGraw boasted that the Athletics, and the fledgling American League, to which they belonged, were unworthy competitors, and indicated that Mack had spent a fortune on a team of “white elephants.”

  Mack got the last laugh. The A’s won the American League pennant in 1902. A few years later, the elephant’s image appeared on the team sweater. In 1918, Mack first emblazoned the elephant on the left sleeve of game uniforms.

  The elephant image became so popular that in 1920, Mack eliminated the “A” on the front of the jersey and replaced it with a blue elephant logo. Four years later, he changed it to a white elephant. After a few years of playing more like a bunch of thundering elephants than a pennant contender, Mack de-pachydermed his players’ uniforms.

  No A’s uniform sported an elephant again until 1955, when the Kansas City A’s added an elephant patch to their sleeves. But when the irascible Charlie Finley bought the A’s in the early 1960s, he replaced the elephant with the image of an animal more befitting his own personality—the mule.

  But you can’t keep a good animal down. According to Sally Lorette, of the Oakland A’s front office, the current owners of the A’s resurrected the same elephant used by the Kansas City Athletics in time for the 1988 season. The mascot did the job for the Oakland A’s just as it had for Connie almost a century ago. Since 1988, the A’s have won three American League pennants and one championship.

  Submitted by Anthony Bialy of Kenmore, New York. Thanks also to a caller on the Jim Eason Show, KGO-AM, San Francisco, California.

  Why is the imperial gallon bigger than its American counterpart?

  The English have never been particularly consistent in their standards of weights and measures. In fact, in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, England changed its definition of a gallon about as often as Elizabeth Taylor changes wedding rings. (Before then, Kings Henry VII and VIII and Queen Elizabeth I had also changed the definition of a gallon.)

  Colonialists in America adopted the English wine gallon, based on the size of then-used hogsheads (barrels) of 231 cubic inches. The English, who also recognized the larger ale gallon of 282 cubic inches, finally settled the mess in 1824 by eliminating the ale and wine gallons completely and instituting the imperial gallon, defined as the volume of ten pounds of water at the temperature of 62 degrees Fahrenheit, the equivalent of about 277.420 cubic inches.

  Meanwhile, Americans were basking in the freedom of a participatory republic but were saddled with an anachronistic wine gallon. In both the English and American systems, one gallon equals four quarts and eight pints, but English portions were significantly larger.

  To compound the standardization problem, the British decided to use the same system to measure liquid and dry substances. They redefined a bushel as eight gallons. In the U.S., bushels, pecks, and all those other measurements we hear in Broadway songs but not in everyday speech are used only to measure grains and other dry commodities.

  Perhaps this was England’s revenge for the American Revolution. By the time the English finally got their act together and laid out a simple, sensible system of measurement, Americans had already committed to the inferior, old English system.

  Submitted by Simon Arnold of Los Angeles, California.

  Why do painters wear white uniforms?

  Often, when we confront practitioners of an industry with an Imponderable about their line of work, they are befuddled. “I’d never stopped to think about that” is a typical reply.

  Such was not the case with painters we contacted about this mystery. Nobody seemed to know for sure how the practice started, but we were lavished with theories about why “whites” made sense. In fact, when we contacted the International Brotherhood of Painters & Allied Trades, we were stunned to find out that after they posed the same question to their membership, their Journal was filled with responses in the April and May 1985 issues. Our thanks to the many members of IBPAT and other painters we contacted for help in answering what, on the basis of our mailbag, is a burning question of the 1990s.

  One advantage that just about everyone could agree on is that white connotes cleanliness. A painter, after all, removes dirt and crumbling plaster before applying paint. Many painters compared the purity of their “whites” to the uniforms of nurses, chefs, and bakers. Philadelphia painting contractor Matt Fox told Imponderables that a white uniform is like a badge that says, “There’s no paint on me, so I’m doing my job.” Obviously, it is as hard to hide paint smeared on a white uniform as it is to hide a ketchup stain on a chef’s apron.

  The white uniform is also a sign of professionalism, one that distinguishes painters from other craftspeople. One IBPAT member wrote that in the early twentieth century, his father often encountered part-time, nonunion workmen trying to horn in on the painting trade. These workers, usually moonlighting, wore blue bib overalls or other ordinary work clothes not related to the paint trade. By contrast, “Our men certainly looked professional in their white overalls, white jackets, and black ties.” Even today, most professionals prefer crisp white uniforms (even if they’ve shed the tie), while odd-job part-timers might don blue jeans and a T-shirt.

  Of course, a color other than white could still look clean and professional. And at first glance, white seems like precisely the wrong color—by wearing white, you “broadcast” any color you spill. True, but remember that the majority of the time (estimates are 70 to 80 percent), painters are dealing with white paint. And what other color uniform is going to look better when splattered with white paint?

  Painters deal with other white substances more than likely to be deposited on their uniforms. Painter Jerry DeOtis presumes that the tradition of “whites” began in eighteenth-century England, when buildings were routinely whitewashed. Irving Goldstein of New York City adds:

  Plaster, lime, spackle, and compound are also white. Repairing and sanding existing walls creates a fine white powder; therefore wearing “painters whites” enables these materials to blend into the uniform.

  The beauties of white as proper background even inspired one Local 277 member, Liz Weber, to burst into verse:

  …and although we strive for neatness,

  getting paint on our clothes is our one weakness.

  So what if those colors tend to cling—

  we’re in style because…

  White goes with everything!

  Even if a painter isn’t thrilled with pigment-stained whites, compared to other colored garb, they are a washroom delight. Traditionally, painters used bleach or lye to remove paint from their uniforms: Those that started with dark uniforms ended up with bleached-out, dingy, light-colored ones anyway.

  Some other painters we consulted mentioned two other advantages of whites: They are cheaper than dyed fabrics and, because of their color, reflect light rather than absorb it, a small comfort to painters working in the sun-drenched great outdoors.

  Submitted by Angelique Craig of Austin, Texas. Thanks also to Howard Livingston of Arlington, Texas; Laura Arvidson of Westville, Indiana; Cristie Avila of Houston, Texas; Tom Rodgers of Las Vegas, Nevada; Adam Rawls of Tyler, Texas; and Karen Riddick of Dresden, Tennessee.

  Why do roaches run away when a light is turned on in a darkened room?

  Just as a sunflower is genetically programmed to turn toward the sun, many plants and animals are phototropic—they are genetically programmed to turn away from and avoid the sun. Cockroaches are nocturnal animals, and most species instinctively scurry when exposed to light.

  The urban roach has adapted well to its environment. While we are asleep, dreaming away, the roach is free to loot our kitchens as if they were no-cost supermarkets. By roaming at night, it also
avoids the rodents that might eat it during the day. At night, the only foes roaches have to worry about are Raid and Combat.

  It is impossible to know for sure, since we can’t interview a roach, to what extent the roaches are bothered by the light per se, or whether the scurrying is a genetically programmed response to help roaches avoid predators. Randy Morgan, entomologist at the Cincinnati Insectarium, told us that the speed of a given roach’s retreat is subject to many factors, including its species, the humidity, and how hungry it is.

  But why assume that the roach is running because of the light? Maybe it is running away from you! Cockroaches have poor eyesight; their main method of detecting danger is by sensing vibrations around them. Robin Roche, entomologist at the Insect Zoo in San Francisco, told Imponderables that roaches have two hornlike structures on their back called cerci. The cerci have hairs that are very sensitive to wind currents. So when you enter the kitchen for your midnight snack, chances are the roach senses you not from sight, or by sound, but by feeling the air currents your movement has generated.

  At the very least, the roach knows something is moving around it; when you flip the light switch on, an automatic physiological response ensues. If it hasn’t already bidden a hasty retreat, it decides that the better part of valor is to sneak back into the crevice it came from. When you go back to bed, it knows those bread crumbs will be right where you left them before, and it can snack away later in peaceful darkness.

  Submitted by Jill Davies of Forest, Mississippi.

  If moths are attracted to light, why don’t they fly toward the sun?

  There is one little flaw in the premise of this Imponderable. Even if they were tempted to fly toward the sun, they wouldn’t have the opportunity—the vast majority of moths are nocturnal animals. When’s the last time you saw one flitting by in daylight? Actually, though, the premise of this question isn’t as absurd as it may appear. For details, see the next Imponderable.

  Submitted by Joel Kuni of Kirkland, Washington. Thanks also to Bruce Kershner of Williamsville, New York.

  Why are moths attracted to light? And what are they trying to do when they fly around light bulbs?

  Moths, not unlike humans, spend much of their time sleeping, looking for food, and looking for mates. As we’ve already learned, most moths sleep during the day. Their search for dinner and procreation takes place at night. Unlike us, though, moths are not provided with maps, street signs, or neon signs flashing “EAT” to guide them to their feeding or mating sites.

  Over centuries of evolution, moths have come to use starlight, and particularly moonlight, for navigation. By maintaining a constant angle in reference to the light source, the moth “knows” where to fly. Unfortunately for the insects, however, humans introduce artificial light sources that lull the moths into assuming that a light bulb is actually their natural reference point.

  An English biologist, R.R. Baker, developed the hypothesis that when moths choose the artificial light source as their reference point, and try keeping a constant angle to it, the moth ends up flying around the light in ever-smaller concentric circles, until it literally settles on the light source. Baker even speculates that moths hover on or near the light because they are attempting to roost, believing that it is daytime, their regular hours. Moths have been known to burn themselves by resting on light bulbs. Others become so disoriented, they can’t escape until the light is turned off or sunlight appears.

  So don’t assume that moths are genuinely attracted by the light. Sad as their fate may be, chances are what the moth “is trying to do” isn’t to hover around a porch light—the only reason the moth is there is because it has confused a soft white bulb with the moon. The moth would far rather be cruising around looking for food and cute moths of the opposite sex.

  Submitted by Charles Channell of Tucson, Arizona. Thanks also to Joyce Bergeron of Springfield, Massachusetts; Sara Anne Hoffman of Naples, Florida; Gregg Hoover of Pueblo, Colorado; Gary Moor of Denton, Texas; Bob Peterson, APO New York; and Jay Vincent Corcino of Panorama City, California.

  Why do some nineteen-inch televisions say on the box: “20 IN CANADA”?

  Do televisions grow when exposed to the clean air in Canada? Are Canadian rulers more generous? Do televisions bloat when transported over the border?

  None of the above. What we have here are two bureaucratic mechanisms that have agreed to differ. In Canada, the size of a television is measured by determining the size of the picture tube from one corner to its opposite diagonal corner. But in the U.S., the viewable picture is measured: from one corner of the picture itself to its opposite along the diagonal. Those cropped corners on the monitors reduce the viewing size by approximately one inch.

  The picture tube is always a little bigger than the measurable picture, which is why Canadians might think they are getting ripped off when they try to confirm the measurements of their sets. Steve Sigman, vice-president of consumer affairs for Zenith, told Imponderables that the television picture shrinks naturally with age. Luckily, the shrinkage materializes along the edges of the monitor. By supplying a little extra picture tube, the manufacturer insures that the consumer will get the whole image for a long time.

  Submitted by Mary Mackintosh of Sacramento, California.

  Why does an old person’s voice sound different from a middle-aged person’s?

  To unravel this Imponderable, we spoke to our favorite speech pathologist, Dr. Michael J. D’ Asaro, of Santa Monica, California, and Dr. Lorraine Ramig, who has published extensively on this very subject. Both of them named three characteristics of the aged voice and found physiological explanations for each:

  1. The elderly voice tends to be higher in pitch. This characteristic is much more noticeable among men because hormonal changes at the onset of menopause work to lower the pitch of older women. As we age, soft tissues all over our body shrink in size. The vocal cords are no exception. As we learned in Why Do Clocks Run Clockwise?, there is a direct correlation between the mass of the vocal cords and pitch: The larger the vocal cords, the lower the pitch.

  2. The elderly voice tends to be weaker in strength. D’ Asaro points out that another characteristic of aging is increased stiffening of joints, which reduces amplitude of motion:

  In the voice mechanism, the result is reduced volume, especially if the respiratory system is also reduced in capacity. The shortness of breath reduces the motive power of the voice, the exhaled breath.

  Ramig adds that the degeneration of vocal folds compounds the problem of creating enough air pressure to fuel a strong voice.

  3. Many elderly people experience quavers or tremors in the voice. Again, many old people experience tremors in other muscle groups, as they age, as part of a decrease in nervous system control. Tremors in the laryngeal muscles produce the Katharine Hepburnish vocal quavers we associate with old age. Frequently, serious neurological disorders, such as Parkinson’s disease, are also responsible for severe tremors in the voice.

  Ramig told Imponderables that not every old person experiences these symptoms, so we asked her if there could be a psychological component to the stereotyped notion of the aged voice. She responded that in many cases, there very well might be. Certainly, the strong, unwavering voices of numerous elderly actors and singers betray their age. Do these young-sounding performers have different anatomical equipment than others of their age? Does their constant training and projection of their vocal equipment help maintain their laryngeal muscles in fighting trim? Or does their active lifestyle keep them from succumbing to the apathy of some of their age peers? These are the types of further Imponderables that will keep Ramig and her fellow researchers knee-deep in work for years to come.

  Submitted by Herbert Kraut of Forest Hills, New York.

  Why is there usually no organization in the shelving of soup cans in supermarkets?

  Few grocery store experiences are as frustrating as trying to find your can of split pea soup amid a sea of red and white. Ninety percent or mor
e of most soup sections are filled with Campbell Soup Company products, and our correspondent wondered why soup lovers weren’t given a break.

  Perhaps, our reader speculates, the soups could be arranged alphabetically. But then would cream of mushroom soup be filed under “C” or “M”?

  No, organization by genre seems more logical. Indeed, this is what Campbell tries to do. Unfortunately, although Campbell suggests a shelving plan for retailers, grocers ultimately have “artistic control” over how and where the soup is shelved.

  We had a long talk with Kevin Lowery, Campbell’s manager of corporate communications, who offered us a primer on how the ideal soup section should be organized. A random check of our local supermarkets indicated that they were at least trying to follow the following golden rules:

  Rule 1: The Big 3 must go on the bottom shelf. The Big 3, of course, are chicken noodle, cream of mushroom, and tomato soup, by far Campbell’s best sellers. About 80 percent of cream of mushroom purchasers use it as an ingredient in cooking rather than as an eating soup, such as chicken noodle. Tomato soup is used by about half of all purchasers as an ingredient rather than an end product.

  Lowery claims that the Big 3 are the three single fastest-moving dry (i.e., nonbeverage) items in an entire typical supermarket. The Big 3 are placed on the lowest shelves to ease the burden of grocery workers, who usually restock in case lots because of the quick turnover.