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| "The Mulligan Guard Lies But - Surrenders" (Puck, 1884 - a precursor of "Mulligan Stew"?) |
Mulligan
Stew is “a stew made from whatever ingredients are available.”[i] In the early 1900s, it was closely associated
with hobos or tramps who would make stew with whatever they could get their
hands on:
On Monday this band of vags [(vagabonds)]
started out to work the town which is probably the only work they have been
guilty of for many a moon. They held up
all our store people for grub in different forms, and later on assembled below
town to cook it. Near the Monarch mine
they started the fires, and with old apple cans to serve as pots, began the
manufacture of a Mulligan stew.
The Neihart Herald (Neihart, Montana),
July 18, 1896, page 3.
Now I know
why the Lady was a Tramp:
She wined and dined on
Mulligan Stew . . . that’s why the lady is a tramp!
Rodgers and
Hart, “The Lady is a Tramp,” from Babes
in Arms.
(Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett sang
“The Lady is a Tramp” (although they skip the opening verse and its
mulligan stew line).)
But why is
it a “Mulligan” stew? A “mulligan stew”
is frequently described as being similar to an “Irish stew,” so perhaps
Mulligan, an Irish surname, is merely a placeholder name indicative of its
Irishness; as others have surmised.[ii] But “Irish stew,” itself, was already used
idiomatically, on occasion, from as early as 1805, with a meaning similar to
“Mulligan stew”; something thrown together from random, disparate elements at
hand.
Which raises
the question, why “Mulligan”? The answer
may lie in a popular play about a rag-tag Irish militia outfit in New York City
. . .
The Mulligan Guard Chowder
. . . which featured
a chowder made with a cat. And of
course, if you make a chowder with a cat, isn’t it really a stew?
Coincidentally
(or not?), the earliest examples of “mulligan stew” in print related to another
group of rag-tag militia units; “Coxey’s Army.”
Coxey’s Army and Mulligan Stew
In 1894, the
United States was in the second year of what would be a four year long
depression; the worst depression in history up to that time. To protest the economic policies that
contributed to the Panic of 1893, and to lobby for the creation of a government
jobs plan that would pay workers with paper currency, Ohio businessman Jacob
Coxey organized an army of workers to march on Washington; and inspired workers
in other parts of the country to organize similar armies to mount similar
marches. These rag-tag militia-like
units were collectively known as, “Coxey’s Army.”[iii]
An army
marches on its stomach, and Coxey’s armies (or at least some of them) marched
on “mulligan stew.” All of the earliest
examples of “mulligan stew” I could find in print related to feeding Coxey’s
armies:
Contributions of food came in
liberally yesterday . . . . The meat and
potatoes were stewed together into what is called Mulligan
stew, “because it goes further that way,” as Commissary Brown put it.
The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Seattle,
Washington), April 12, 1894, page 5.
Tensions
were high two weeks later, when one wing of the “Industrial Army,” under the
command of “General” Hogan, commandeered a train in Montana to transport their
members to Washington DC. The real militia
was called out, and there were rumors that the federal government was sending some
“regulars,” including four companies of the so-called “Buffalo Soldiers,” who
were stationed at Fort Missoula, Montana.
Through it all, the workers (or wannabe workers) ate “mulligan stew”:
Rations were served to each
company and the men had what they called a “mulligan,”
which consisted of a kind of Irish stew made of the scraps left over
from the former meals.
The Anaconda Standard (Anaconda,
Montana), April 24, 1894, page 4.
A few months
later, a boatload of Coxeyites from the Northwest ate “mulligan stew” while
passing through Detroit on their way to Washington DC:
Dinner was served today between
the hours of 2 and 4 o’clock. . . . The
bill of fare consisted of “mulligan,” which closely
resembles an Irish stew, potatoes, and black coffee. “Mulligan” was the
favorite and the men passed up their tin cans for refilling “full many a
time and oft.” Two or three men were
having their hair cut while dispatching the delectable stew. The floor is used for a table and the men eat
with their fingers or improvised wooden spoons.
The cooking was done with oil stoves.
The stew was boiled in a battered old boiler and the coffee was prepared
in an ex-water pail.
The Inter-Ocean (Chicago, Illinoi), July
23, 1894.
Other
unemployed men, some of whom were headed to Washington DC to join the Coxey
Army, enjoyed “Mulligan” stew on the road during the same period:
I soon found out they were on their way to Washington; two with the
avowed intention of joining the commonweal army,
the others on one of the aimless expeditions that go to make up the sum of
existence for these latter-day nomads. . . .
During the afternoon Oakland bought his keg of beer, and on its arrival
in camp it was voted unanimously to hold it until the next day and then to
celebrate the day by cooking a “mulligan.” Now,
mulligan is a stew of large proportions and many ingredients, and, as it
would require considerable hustling to get together the stuff, we all started
early. To my share fell the tomatoes and
potatoes. Army was to get coffee, sugar,
salt and pepper, and the rest were to provide meat, bread, and if possible,
chickens.
The Evening Star (Washington DC), May
17, 1894, page 3.
Although
there is no direct evidence that “Mulligan stew” was a reference to “The
Mulligan Guard Chowder,” the coincidence of a rag-tag army of workers eating
“Mulligan stew” and a rag-tag Irish militia eating “Mulligan Guard chowder” may
at least raise an eyebrow. It seems
plausible that someone in Coxey’s Army could have used “Mulligan stew” as a
playful, pop-culture reference to “The Mulligan Guard Chowder.” And even if the term did not originate in
Coxey’s Army, it may nonetheless have been a reference to what had been a
popular play fifteen years earlier.
“Mulligan
stew” also owes a debt of gratitude to “Irish stew”.
Irish Stew
The Irish
have long been associated with stew.
“Irish Stew” appeared in cookbooks as early as 1802.[iv] The early recipes were generally pretty
simple, and required very few ingredients; usually mutton (or optionally, beef),
potatoes and onions, and sometimes thyme, parsley and/or carrots.
 |
| Duncan MacDonald, The New London Cook, London, Albion Press, 1808, page 367. |
But despite
the simplicity of the recipes as they appeared in cookbooks, such stews were
apparently known for being amenable to mixing whatever old or fresh ingredients
were lying around. As early as the 1805,
“Irish Stew” was used idiomatically, to refer to thing made up of random
collections of various ingredients; suggesting, perhaps, that some Irish stews
may already have had something in common with what we now call a Mulligan stew.
In 1805, a writer
likened the craft of writing poetry to the making of an Irish stew:
To the Author’s Grandson.
Into my room whene’er you
pop,
You think it is some workman’s
shop,
A Poet’s shop – where
scraps and scratches,
Made like a
motley quilt of patches;
. . .
A queer mixt
medley, old and new,
Just as you make
an Irish stew;
The Poet thus
crams things together,
And stirs them with a
Goose’s feather.
Mr. Pratt
(Samuel Jackson), Harvest-Home,
Volume 3, London, Richard Phillips, 1805, page 57.
In 1810, a
theater critic described production
thrown together from old bits as an “Irish stew”:
Mr. Arnold’s Christmas
dish, an Irish-stew, made up of old materials,
appeared for the first time on the 26th.
The Monthly Mirror (London), January,
1810, page 65.
“Irish stew”
was also used figuratively in the United States, from time to time. In 1869, a review of the play, “An Irish
Stew, or the Mysterious Widow of Long Branch,” for example, described the cast
of characters as being, “mixed up in a regular Irish
stew through the intolerable intermeddling of Mr. Macglider as a
peace-maker.”[v]
In 1886, a
headline critical of inconsistent reporting in British newspapers as concocting
“an Irish Stew With Socialistic Seasoning.” Several London newspapers had apparently
written editorials likening anarchist terrorists convicted of murder in the Haymarket Affair with
pro-Irish independence agitators, like Jeremiah
O’Donovan Rossa, in the United States.
Britain was then trying to negotiate an extradition treaty with the
United States that would enable them to get their hands on those “political”
criminals. The American writer believed
that comparing convicted political murderers to political agitators was a false
equivalence.
 |
| Omaha Daily Bee (Nebraska), August 21, 1886, page 1. |
In 1887, an article about a Mexican dinner served at a
banquet in Philadelphia described one of the dishes as, “Mexican-Irish stew”:
. . . “Puchero,” which
came next, was made of fried cabbage, goat meat, fried carrots and fried
bananas, and is known as a “Mexican-Irish stew.”
Arizona Weekly
Enterprise (Florence, Arizona), June 18, 1887, page 1.
Since “Irish
Stew” was sometimes regarded as a mix of incongruous elements, perhaps it was
inevitable that a common Irish name, like Mulligan, would become the name of a
“stew” made from whatever one has on hand.
But why
Mulligan in particular? Like many
catch-phrases and new expression, its origin may have been on the stage. In this case, its origins may stem from the
well-known team of Irish comedians, Harrigan and Hart.
Irish Comedians
Hogan &
Hart were one of the most successful comedy teams, producers and theater owners
of the late nineteenth century. In 1879,
The New York Times referred to them as “ernest disciples of the type of gritty
realism pioneered by Honore Balzac and Emile Zola.”[vi]
The reviewer
compared Hogan & Hart’s series of “Mulligan Guard” plays to Zola’s series
of Les
Rougon-Macquart novels; stories about the lives of a middle class family
during the Second Empire.
The
“Mulligan Guard” series focused on the lives of members of the middle or lower
classes in New York City. The title
characters were members of a neighborhood Irish militia company. Other characters in the plays included
members of a neighborhood black militia, the Skidmore Guards, captained by
Simpson Primrose and the Reverend Palestine Puter; and a German couple,
Gustavus Lochmuller and his wife Bridget.
Although the plays were considered low-brow entertainment (the New York
Times reviewer assumed that names, Hogan & Hart, were only “vaguely
suggestive” to its readers), Hogan & Hart’s Theatre Comique was the most
successful theater in the city; and the Times gave them their stamp of approval:
Harrigan
and Hart were formerly “variety performers,” and were highly esteemed in their
profession. This was their chrysalis
state, for they soon developed in the butyterfly state of managers, and the
Theatre Comique was their fertile garden.
Here they established the old-fashioned sort of song-and-dance
performance, though it was soon observed that they were an unusually ambitious
couple. As time wore on, they began to
introduce novelties into their business, and, thanks to their association with
an able musician – Mr. David Braham – they were soon able to carry out an idea
which had been fermenting in the brain of Mr. Harrigan. The latter conc eived the project of placing
upon his stage a series of plays depicting low life in New York, interspersed
with original melodies. The author of
the Rougon-Macquart novels, it is
needless to say, proceded from the same starting point. Well, Mr. Harrigan wrote “Tue Mulligan
Guards’ Picnic,” and Mr. Braham gave the piece a musical seting. The success of the novelty was remarkable,
and it was soon followed by another play of the same sort, “The Mulligan
Guards’ Ball,” then by “The Mulligan Guards’ Chowder.”
[Their]
plays have presented the same characters in new situations, and are connected
in the manner of a magazine story, which is published serially. Mr. Harrigan’s central purpose seems to have
been to give a realistic picture of life among the poor wards of our City,
although he has never hesitated to sacrifice realism to farce. . . . The basis
of his work is simple Irishmen, Germans, and negroes figure in the story, and
the absolute impossibility of these three elements of nationality to live in
concord furnishes its amusing texture.
The New York Times Theater Reviews,
1870-1885, New York, The New York Times & Arno Press, 1975 (1879 D 21,
7:2).
The lower
classes depicted in the plays were also fans.
This etching depicts an audience watching the “thrilling spectacle of
the march of the Mulligan Guards” – with the guardsmen all decked out in
mismatched, non-uniform uniforms:
An image
from the novelization of the first episode of the Mulligan Guard shows the
“march of the Mulligan Guards” as they go home after a day of drilling and a
“target shoot.” The joke of the episode
was that they never could hit the target during the drill, so they had to
literally “drill” holes in the wooden target in order to salvage their
reputation.
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| The History of the Mulligan Guard, New York, Collin & Small, 1874, page 28. |
The song
from the “Mulligan Guards,” was popular enough, and ubiquitous enough, that an
Italian organ grinder had the song on his organ in 1878, when he was still in mourning
over the recent death of King Vittorio
Emanuele II:
An organ-grinder struck the
town yesterday with his organ draped in mourning for the dead King. His silent token of his grief was very
touching until he began to grind out “The Mulligan
Guards.” – Oil City Derrick.
Puck (New York), Volume 2, Number 47,
January 30, 1878, page 13.
When the
“Mulligan Guard Chowder” debuted in 1879, the New York Times gave it a
favorable review:
“The Mulligan Guard's
Chowder” . . . is a very broad and
realistic sketch of low life, but an irresistibly comic one.
The New York Times Theater Reviews,
1870-1885, New York, The New York Times & Arno Press, 1975 (1879 Ag 22,
5:2).
One
advertisement for the play suggests that the chowder was made, like “Mulligan
stew,” with random ingredients – including a “cat” or wild tomcat (proper name
Thomas):
The New York Herald, September 14, 1879,
page 4.
A summary of
incidents in the play, published in another advertisement, seems to confirm
that the chowder may have been made with a cat; at least a cat is featured in
the plot. In scene 6, the action moves
from Manhattan to the “Jersey Beach,” where there is some fishing, clam
digging, a “Hot Chowder,” a funeral, and the “Appearance of the “Felis
Maniculatus” – a cat (or a rat? [vii]). The song that follows, “Dolly and Kitty and
Mary So Pretty,” may be about a woman named Kate, or could a reference to the
cat.
Although the
scanty evidence does not prove a connection between the “Mulligan Guard
Chowder” and “Mulligan stew,” the extended period of popularity of the “Mulligan
Guards,” generally, suggests that the connection is possible. The “Guard” were still popular enough during
the mid-1880s that several political cartoons in Puck were modeled after them:
 |
| Puck (1884) |
As late as 1893,
Harrigan was still performing the “negro burial” bit from the “Mulligan Guard
Chowder.” Since that incident appeared
in the same scene as the chowder incident, he may well have still been
performing the chowder bit. Although I
could not find any specific reference to his performing the “chowder” bit into
the 1890s, he or others may have kept it alive:
It is a pity that Mr. Harrigan cannot
infuse the same up-to-date spirit into his productions, but the truth is that
of recent years he has raked over his old material too thoroughly, and,
besides, dozens of imitators have arisen with plays modeled on the ones that
made him famous long ago, and now the public has grown a little tired of those
phases of negro, Irish, and Italian characters which constitute Mr. Harrigan’s
chief stock in trade.
The Sun (New York), August 31, 1893,
page 5.
Ed Harrigan
kept the “Mulligan Guard” characters and situations alive in the early 1900s,
when he published a collection of “Mulligan Guard” stories.[viii] Although the book did not include the cat-chowder
incident from “The Mulligan Guard Chowder,” there are several references to chowder
in the book.
Although none of this proves that the
“Mulligan Guard Chowder” was, in fact, the inspiration for “Mulligan stew,” it
seems like a plausible explanation. And,
if “Mulligan stew” was inspired by a fictional “Mulligan Guard Chowder,” the
“Mulligan Guard,” itself, may have been inspired by actual events.
Irish
Militia
Neighborhood
militia units were a common feature of life in New York City, and many of them resembled, in one way or another, the fictional “Mulligan Guard”:
There are a great number of
militia companies in New York, and some of them are really very martial-looking
indeed. I am told there is a company of
Highlanders, formed by the sons of far Caledonia; and there are German, French,
Italian companies, &c. There are a number
of target companies, each known by some particular name – usually, I believe,
that of a favourite leader who is locally popular among them. . . .
A few of them are “The Washington Market Chowder
Guard” (chowder is a famous dish in the United States), “Bony Fusileers,”
“Peanut Guard,” “Sweet’s Epicurean Guard” (surely these must be confectioners),
“George R. Jackson and Company’s Guard,” “Nobody’s Guard,” “Oregon Blues,” “Tenth
Ward Light Guard,” “Carpenter Guard,” “First Ward Magnetizers” . . . and
multitudes of others.
. . .
Generally a target, profusely
decorated with flowers, is carried before the company, borne on the stalwart
shoulders of a herculean specimen of the African race, to be shot at for prize and
glory, and the “bubble reputation” alone.
On its return from the excursion and practice, the target will display
many an evidence of the unerring skill and marksmanship of the young and
gallant corps.
Lady
Emmeline Stuart-Wortley, Travels in America,
Volume 1, London, Richard Bentley, 1851, pages 298-299.
The fictional “Mulligan Guard” may also have been based on a real-life “Mulligan Guard”:
At a Meeting of the James Mulligan Guard, held at their headquarters 125
Grand street, on Thursday evening, April 2, a full attendance being present, it
was unanimously resolved to have an election for officers for the spring
parade, and the following gentlemen were unanimously chosen: . . . Patrick
McDonald; . . . Donahoe; . . . Donnelly; . . . Rourke; . . . Doyle; . . .
Stuart; . . . O’Connor. After election
the members retired to an adjoining room and filled their bumpers [(glasses)]. The first toast was given to the Hon. James
Buchanan, President of the United States; the second was the Army and Navy; the
third, the James Mulligan Guard, one and
inseparable; fourth, The Man whose name we bear; all of which were drank with
three times three [(three cheers; three times)], and interspersed with various
appropriate songs.
The New York Herald, April 5, 1857, page
7.
The name and
ethnic makeup of the real and fictional militia units is not the only
similarity between the two. The life of
the real-life James Mulligan, patron of the real-life Mulligan Guard, closely
parallels the life of Terrance Mulligan, the fictional patron of the original
fictional “Mulligan Guard.”[ix]
The History of the
Mulligan Guard.
Who has not heard of the
renowned Mulligan Guard? . . . Its members are earnest, honest, enthusiastic
men, and the Guard will undoubtedly be the nucleus of a crack infantry regiment
one of these days. But even then it may
be questioned whether it will allow its name to be changed, so proud are they
of their patron, Terrence Mulligan, the Assistant Alderman of the red-hot
Seventh [Ward] . . . .
The History of the Mulligan Guard, New
York, Collin & Small, 1874.[x]
James
Mulligan, the patron of the real-life militia, was a successful farrier
(horse-shoer) and neighborhood politician who was active in Democratic and
Tammany Hall politics. He lived at 119
Grand Street in New York City, and owned an events facility at 125 Grand Street
that he rented out for meetings, dinners, and balls.
In 1854, a
watershed year in Tammany
Hall politics, he was on the Democratic ticket for School Trustee of the
Fourteenth Ward. He was also active in
Irish politics.[xi] In the mid-1840s, he was a member of the
General Committee for the “United Irish Repeal
Association”,[xii]
a political movement that supported constitutional reform in Ireland and
independence from Great Britain. In the
mid-1850s, James Mulligan served as President of the “Irish Aid Society,” a
charity benefiting poor Irish in New York City.[xiii] One of their programs granted money to people
willing to relocate to “the West . . . whose virgin soil teems with fertility,
ready to give up its golden treasures to the first efforts of industry.”
Although
James Mulligan appears to have become a successful businessman and community
leader, his earlier life involved some comic situations that would have been
right at home in a “Mulligan Guard” skit.
In 1838, Mulligan
was fined $25 and costs for throwing a bucket of water or two over Mrs. Webb’s
head after she laid out her daughter’s best petticoat to dry in front of his fireplace without permission.
He threw the petticoat out into the yard, calling the child a
“brat.” She said, “my child, sir, is no
brat, sir; you nasty good for nothing ------!”
Mulligan told her to get out of the yard, “or I’ll throw a bucket of
water on you!” She dared him; “Oh brave
blackguard, throw a pail of water on a woman!
I dare you to do it, you dirty fellow!” So he did – twice.[xiv]
The previous
year, Mr. Mulligan was in court as plaintiff when one, Edward Mahony, stole “a turnip and trimmings – a watch and its
appendages, the property of James Mulligan, No. 119 Grand street.” The defendant claimed he was only borrowing
it. A third-party testified that Mahony had
offered to trade watch-chains with him.
The verdict – “petty larceny only.”[xv]
Ed Harrigan,
who created the “Mulligan Guard” series, was born in New York City in 1844 and
would have been fourteen years old when the “James Mulligan Guard” held its meetings
in 1858. If Harrigan lived in an Irish
neighborhood in New York City, and had a passing familiarity with the social
and political scene, he may well have been aware of James Mulligan and his
“Mulligan Guards.” The “Mulligan Guard”
series could have been based on his childhood recollections of a specific or
general recollection of the real-life “James Mulligan Guard.”
Another
element of “Mulligan Guard Chowder” was also based on real life. “Chowder Parties” were a common feature of
local political, social and military life.
Chowder Parties
The “chowder
party,” a close cousin to the “clam bake,” dates to at least 1834.
In a
discussion of how best to celebrate the Fourth of July in 1834:
For our own part, we are
free to say that we like not the tumult of a city celebration, and shall seek
our pleasure in a more quiet mode; but whether it shall be by means of a
chowder party in company with “the trampers,” on Barren Island – by a family
dinner at home, or by a visit to one of the thousand beautiful spots which are
to be found upon our own island, or within fifty miles of New-York, yet remains
to be determined.
The Long-Island Star (Brooklyn), June
26, 1834, page 3.
One of the
Vanderbilts offered “Chowder Party” excursions in the 1840s:
 |
| Morning Herald (New York), July 24, 1840, page 3. |
 |
| Brooklyn Daily Eagle (Brooklyn, New York), August 8, 1842, page 2. |
Six decades
later, a newspaper article surveyed the history of “chowder parties” as the “Chowder
Party” season heated up in the late summer of 1900. The article describes how the “chowder party”
had become a standard feature of social, political and militia life; similar to
the fictional “Mulligan Guard Chowder” and with similarities to the real life
of James Mulligan, the patron of the real “Mulligan Guard”:
The
chowder party was originally an outing arranged by a few men, who made use of a
“day off” to fish and then have a “bite” and a drink before coming home . . . . Target shoots and picnics suffered because of
the popularity of the chowder parties, and it was only a few years after their
introduction that outing parties had to bear that name to make them attractive.
But
as they grew in size the chowder part became less important, and a chowder party for a shop association, lodge, military
company or political club now usually dispenses with clams; what it really
needs is beer.
The
men who go into politics for the purpose of securing office for themselves or
for their friends, if they live in the lower part of the city, usually have
headquarters where their friends may congregate [(as did James Mulligan)]. . . . The association bears his name,
and every winter the saloons, barber shops and little stores have a placard in
their windows on which there is a portrait of the leader and the announcement
that the Patrick McCarthy or Moses Cohen or Giovanni Peanutti Associatino will
have a “grand reception ball” at some hall in or near the district. . . .
It’s
a long time between drinks from one grand ball and reception to another, and in
order to keep himself well before his constituents and to show that he is still
“it” the leader usually selects the dog days to give his friends an outing, which has for years taken the form of a chowder
party.
New York
Tribune, September 9, 1900, Illustrated Supplement, page 1.
In testimony
before the New York Senate in 1893, Tammany Hall Democrats were grilled about
using the sales of the Seventh Ward’s “chowder party” tickets to secure
political favors, influence and positions:
“Is it not a fact that the
saloon keepers and houses of prostitution paid $5,000 for chowder tickets?”
The witness replied that the insinuation
was infamous.
Then Chairman Lexow innocently
inquired, “How much chowder was supplied a man for $5?”
and ex-Judge Ransom assured the Senator that there were many other things in
chowder parties besides chowder. That
gave Mr. Goff an opening, and he added to the prevailing merriment by remarking
that chowder parties, and even chowder,
contained as many things as are in the list of a district leader.
The Sun (New York), June 8, 1894, page
2.
Mulligan Parties
By the early
1900s, “Mulligan” came full circle.
Whereas “Mulligan,” perhaps from “Mulligan Guard Chowder,” became
“Mulligan Stew;” “Mulligan,” apparently from “Mulligan stew,” may have
occasionally replaced “chowder” in “chowder party.” Or, perhaps the expression, “Mulligan party,”
merely reflected the fact that some people organized parties around a “Mulligan
stew,” as others did around chowder.
There was a
“Mulligan party” at Pike’s Peak in 1907:
 |
| The Evening Statesman (Walla Walla, Washington), February 7, 1907, page 5. |
In 1913,
Thomas Gaines was arrested for holding “mulligan parties” with stolen chickens:
 |
| The Tacoma Times (Tacoma, Washington), August 16, 1913, page 1. |
In 1915, one
writer (thinking ahead, presumably, to the end of World War I) said:
A ‘Mulligan’ is a great affair.
It’s a sort of cross between a Sunday school meeting in Japan and an English
athletic meet in Berlin in 1917.
Salt Lake Telegram (Salt Lake City,
Utah), July 26, 1915, page 12.[xvi]
Conclusion
The
expression, “Mulligan stew,” may reflect a melding of “Irish stew” with
Harrigan & Hart’s “Mulligan Guard Chowder”; a chowder that the fictional
“Mulligan Guard” made with a cat. The
expression may have taken root when unemployed men organized themselves into
militia-like units – “Coxey’s Army” – for a march on Washington to protest
economic conditions and lobby for a federal jobs program. The widespread use of “Mulligan stew” in
Coxey’s army may have influenced the continued association of “Mulligan stew”
with tramps and hobos. And, the
fictional “Mulligan Guard” may have been based on the actual “Mulligan Guard”
that was active in New York City in the 1850s.
Of course, I
could be wrong; if so, I want a do-over – a “Mulligan” – but that’s a whole nuther
story.
[ii]
See, for example, “Mulligan Stew”,
Wikipedia.org (accessed June 19, 2016) and Barry Popik, “Mulligan
Stew”, The Big Apple online Etymology Dictinoary (accessed June 19, 2016).
[iv] John
Mollard, The Art of Cookery Made Easy and Refined, 2d edition, London, 1802,
page 53 (Cutlets a la Irish Stew).
[v] The New York Herald, February 9, 1869,
page 7.
[vi] The New York Times Theater Reviews,
1870-1885, New York, The New York Times & Arno Press, 1975 (1879 D 21,
7:2).
[vii] “Felis”
is the genus of a type of cat and “Maniculatis” is a species of mouse..
[viii]
Edward Harrigan, The Mulligans, New
York, G. W. Dillingham Company, 1901.
[ix] The
original manifestation of the fictional “Mulligan Guard,” in 1874, was said to
have been organized by a man named Hussey, with a patron named Alderman
Terrence Mulligan. Later versions of the
“Mulligan Guard” appear to have been organized by a grocer named Dan Mulligan.
[x]
The book does not list the name of the author, but the characters and
situations appear to be at least based on Ed Harrigan’s play, as his name is
mentioned on page 1 of the book as one of the leaders of the “Mulligan Guard.”
[xi] The New York Herald, October 26, 1854,
page 1.
[xii] New York Daily Tribune, February 8,
1844, page 3.
[xiii]
The New York Herald, September 6,
1855, page 2.
[xiv] TheMorning Herald (New York), January
23, 1838, page 2.
[xv] The Morning Herald (New York), August
16, 1837, page 2.
[xvi]
Credit goes to Stephen Goransan for uncovering
the sense of “mulligan” as a party, and finding the citation from the Salt Lake Telegram, July 25, 1915, page 12.
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