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The Riddleberger Boot.
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In Pixar’s classic film, “Toy Story,” the
lead character, Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks), is a child’s cowboy doll with a
pull-string voice box. One of the stock
phrases elicited by pulling his string is “I’ve got a snake in my boot,” which is
repeated several times throughout the movie franchise. Fans have been debating the meaning of the cryptic
expression since the original “Toy Story” debuted in 1995.
Without an
opportunity to ask them directly, it is impossible to divine what the
screenwriters had in mind in using the expression. It is, however, a fact that the expression was
a common idiom during the 19th century, said to have originated in the
American West, which makes it a suitable line for a talking cowboy doll.
“Seeing snakes”
or “seeing snakes in one’s boots” was the mid-19th century equivalent
of “seeing pink elephants,” a stereotypical drunken hallucination. “Snakes” and “Snakes in one’s boot” slowly
gave way to increasingly fanciful and colorful animal hallucinations near the
turn of the century, and were largely displaced by “pink elephants” by the
early 1900s. For more detail on the
transition from one idiom to the other, see my earlier post, “The
Colorful History and Etymology of ‘Pink Elephant.’”[i]
The
remainder of this post focuses on look at a couple early examples and
explanations of the idiom not available when the earlier post was published,
and a forgotten drama that played out on the floor of the United States Senate,
but which was erased from the official records.
The incident involved a drunken, one-term Senator from Virginia named
Riddleberger who was thought to have had “snakes in his boots.”
Western
Origin
In a book of
reminiscences of the life of the American humorist, Artemus Ward, an Englishman
named Edward P. Hingston recalled an incident aboard a steamboat on the Ohio
River in about 1862; the “Major Anderson, United States mail-packet,bound for
Louisville.” Ward had made some
seemingly nonsensical comments about George Washington visiting Greece, “Blue
Greeks” and “Blue Aegean brigands, dead before their breakfast!” A fellow traveler wondered what his ramblings meant.
“Mercy me!” cried the lady. “The poor fellow is out of his
mind. Has he no friends with him? He is much to be pitied.”
“It is nothing, madam,” replied one of our party; “nothing, I
assure you. He usually wanders in this
way when he has snakes in his boot.”
“Snakes in his boots!
And has he got them now, cried the lady, rising quickly, and recoiling
from the man whom she had just been regarding with tender pity.
“He has, madam. He’s
apt to see them now and then, but –- ”
An outcry of terror from the sympathetic lady led to a scene
of confusion, in the midst of which the gentlemen passengers made their way to
the forepart of the saloon, while some of the ladies took refuge in their state
rooms.
At that time I was not better informed than the lady I have
referred to, as to the meaning of the phrase, “Snakes in his boots.” On inquiry
I found it to be the western idiom for delirium
tremens, and it was explained to me as a curious physiological fact that
the hard drinkers of the south and southwestern states, are apt to imagine that
their boots are full of snakes when they themselves are suffering from the
mental hallucination produced by excessive intemperance.
Edward
Hingston, The Genial Showman, Being
Reminiscences of the Life of Artemus Ward and Pictures of a Showman’s Career in
the Western World, London, J. C. Hotten, 1871, page 30.
Equal
Opportunity Snakes
If a man
could see “snakes in his boots,” a woman in a similar state might see “snakes
in her stockings.”
Her husband had brought home a barrel of hard cider. Late one evening she concluded that she
wanted some of it. Having no other way
of getting the coveted beverage, she inserted a straw in a gimlet hole in a
barrel, and helped herself to the apple juice.
When she retired that night her rest was broken by visions of
“snakes” twining, coiling, squirming and twisting around her stockings, which
she believed she still had on. She said
it was exciting. Bit snakes, little
snakes, old snakes, young snakes, green snakes, red snakes, yellow snakes,
striped snakes, black snakes, double-headed and double-tailed snakes, all
there, and about 14,447 of ‘em trying to twine themselves around her stockings.
She would start up in affright, only to see the snakes vanish
up the chimney. When she would lie down
the circus performance would begin again and a whole menagerie of snakes would
begin their contortions.
After wrestling with them about a dozen times she got out of
bed about 1 o’clock, dressed herself and went to getting breakfast, finding it
impossible to rest in bed in peace and comfort.
She has foresworn hard cider, and talks of joining the
temperance lodge. She does not wear
striped stockings.
The Daily Review (Wilmington, North Carolina),
December 1, 1875, page 3.
Senatorial
Snakes
Harrison
Holt Riddleberger served as a United States Senator from Virginia for one term,
from March 1883 through March 1889. “Prone to depression and excessive
drinking, he held a reputation as an eccentric and even engaged in two duels on
the same day.”[ii] His reputation as a hard drinker inspired a
cartoon of his boots, with snakes in ‘em, in a mock-article about footwear
fashions.
Senator Riddleberger of Virginia has achieved the glory of
giving his name to a popular style of boot not wholly unknown before his time,
but which he wears so uninterruptedly that they have become inseparably
associated with his personality.
The San Francisco Examiner, April 15, 1888, page 9.
As an
example of the humorous nature of the article, another image from the same
piece was a visual representation of the set-up to a then-current, viral joke. The shoes supposedly belonged to a fashion
maven named Evander Berry Wall, who was popularly known as the “King of the
Dudes.” At that time, the word “Dude” generally
referred to young, high-society swells with more money than brains; Anglophiles
who affected English accents and took their fashion and social cues from
British aristocracy. The joke? His pant-legs are
rolled up – because it’s raining in London, hardy-har-har!!!
The model feet were resting on the sill . . . . The day was fair and the sidewalks as dry as
Berry himself [(“dry” was a joke about Berry Wall’s reputation as a social
drinker)], but it will be noticed that his trouser-legs are turned up.
If, standing on the dizzy summit of the Tribune’s tall tower,
you should shout through a trumpet an inquiry as to why Mr. Wall turned up his
pantaloons, all New York would drop other employment and scream back at you: ‘Because
it’s rainin’ in Lunnon, yeh know!”
Then all New York would giggle before returning to work. Everybody in the metropolis knows this joke
and uses it daily, without paying royalty to the venerable inventor.
The San Francisco Examiner, April 15, 1888, page 9.
A third
cartoon from the same item is “cheesecake” (although not then known by that
name[iii])
with an assist from a muddy day! Va-va-va-voom!!!
The ladies (--bless ‘em!) are more obedient than men to [fashion]
authority. Their feet in San Francisco
are shod precisely like their sisters’ in every other civilized city. Here, as in New York, Washington, Paris,
Berlin, St. Petersburg and London, the winds of heaven and the mud of earth
combine to afford opportunity to beauty, and the weary heart of the male wayfarer,
who keeps his eyes open, is cheered and strengthened by the vision.
The San Francisco Examiner, April 15, 1888, page 9.
Riddleberger
Bitten by His “Snakes”
Senator
Riddleberger’s drinking habits contributed to a little known incident in which
the Seargeant-at-Arms of the Senate wrestled a Senator to the floor of the
Senate and physically dragged him from the Senate chamber. In the interest of “its own dignity,” the
Senate quickly “expunged from the Congressional
Record all reference to the scene,”[iv] which
may account for the fact that references to the incident do not appear in
biographical sketches of the former Senator’s life and career. For his part, Senator Riddleberger believed he
had been wronged and wanted everything on the record.
 |
The Evening Star (Washington DC), March 6, 1889, page
1. |
Despite
the almost instantaneous revisionist history by the Senate, the scene of the crime can
be reconstructed because it was reported in the following days, and the
Seargent-at-Arms involved in the expulsion gave a detailed account of it a few years
later.
One account alluded to his drinking,
without addressing it head-on – “the trouble was aggravated by Mr.
Riddleberger, whose condition was as bad from a total abstinence point of view
as it has been at any time in his official life.”[v] Another account was more direct – “Senator Riddleberger
was in a state of gross intoxication.” But
the danger was real – Riddleberger was known to carry a firearm at all times,
even on the floor of the Senate.
Riddleberger
was a Republican who could muster Democratic votes, and had helped a number of his
fellow Republicans secure plum appointments.[vi] But in the closing days of the term, his final
deal fell through. His reputation as a
drinker reportedly helped sink the deal.
The republican Senators, with the exception of
two or three interested in the deal, were wholly in opposition to the scheme,
and a number of democratic Senators became disgusted at finding themselves
placed in the attitude of followers in Mr. Riddleberger’s uncertain footsteps.
. . .
It is extremely fortunate for Mr. Webb that the bargain was
not carried out. He could not afford to
hold a District Commissionership as the direct representative of Senator
Riddleberger and his bottle . . . .
Evening Star (Washington DC), March 4, 1889, page
4.
The rest of
the session was chaotic.
IN A BLAZE OF DISORDER.
The Fiftieth Congress Comes to a
Sensational End.
SENATOR RIDDLEBERGER ARRESTED.
He insists
on Obstructing the Senate’s Proceedings and
Finally Telegraphs His Resignation to
Virginia.
Ingalls Loses Patience.
. . . Even before the report had been disposed of, Mr.
Riddleberger was on his feet endeavoring to interpose a motion to proceed to
executive business. The presiding
officer, Mr. Ingalls, took no notice of him at first, but finally recognized
him, put the motion, and declared it lost; whereat some of the gallery
spectators laughed. Then several private
bills were passed. In each instance there
was an attempt at objection or interruption by Mr. Riddleberger; till finally,
he was notified by the presiding officer that he would not be recognized
further. . . .
In the meantime, Mr. Riddleberger, who had left the chamber,
again made his appearance and informed the presiding officer that he had just
telegraphed to the governor of Virginia, his resignation as a senator because
he could have no recognition from the presiding officer. He was not awaiting an answer which would
relieve him from the responsibilities of his position. He had found that a Republican senator from
Virginia could not be recognized by the president of the senate pro tempore.
Pittsburgh Daily Post, March 4, 1889, page 1.
The presiding
officer ordered him to take his seat; he refused; the presiding officer ordered
the seargeant-at-arms to “see that the orders of the chair are executed”; Riddleberger
complied – but then got back up. In a
few minutes, the sergeant-at-arms and an assistant “had Mr. Riddlbeberger in
charge and led him out of the senate chamber into the nearest cloak room.”[vii]
It all
sounds very neat and tidy – but from the Sergeant-at-Arms’ perspective, the
incident entailed more danger and excitement.
“The most exciting and critical moment in my life was near
midnight, March 3, 1889, when I arrested Senator Riddleberger, of Virginia,”
said Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate Hon. W. P. Canaday.
“The person of a Senator is scared in the eyes of the law and
the constitution,” he continued, “and no rule or regulation of the Senate
authorizes the arrest of one of its members. . . . I reminded Senator Ingalls that no power was
vested in me to arrest a Senator, but he replied:
“‘You are authorized to preserve order, and to obey the
presiding officer of the Senate. When
you are called upon, you will do your duty.’ . . .
“I then ordered Captain May, who is stationed in the Senate
lobby, to enter the chamber and take a seat back of the boisterous
Virginian. Scarcely had Captain May
taken his position, when the grim, distinct, determined order came from the
chair:
“’The sergeant-at-arms will preserve order. He will remove the Senator from Virginia from
the chamber.’ . . .
“Immediately I grasped his arms from behind to prevent him
from drawing a revolver which he always carried, and Captain May assisted me in
lifting him bodily out of the chamber into the cloak room, the door of which
was directly back of his chair. He
grasped the desk with both hands, muttering: ‘You have no right to arrest me,’
but we shook loose his hold, carried him into the cloak room, laid him upon a
sofa, and kept him there. Until the day
of his death he never again entered the Senate chamber, and I am heartily sorry
that his exit was so ungraceful.
“We kept him there in the cloak room for three or four
hours. Finally he agreed to go to his
hotel and remain there, and we permitted him to depart. During his arrest his language was violent
and somewhat profane, but none of it was heard in the Senate.
“I have always regretted that it became my duty to perform
that task. Senator Riddleberger was one
of the brightest and best young men I have ever known, but he fell in with
wrong advisers and unsuitable companions after he came to Wasington, and his
public career ended in a cloud.”
“Were you not fearful of personal injury on that momentous
occasion?”
“Most assuredly, Senator Riddleberger always went armed, and
he defiantly said that he would kill me if I undertook to arrest him. Although not entirely in his right mind, he
knew that I had no real authority to arrest him, and he intended to resist. Hence I took him at a disadvantage and
unawares, and his revolver was never drawn; but I was looking for it, and my
nerves were strained until the dropping of a pin, almost, would have startled
me.
I was complimented afterwards by nearly all the Senators, for
the quiet and successful manner in which the arrest was made, but I hope never
to receive congratulations again for any work so disagreeable as that was. It was dangerous, but the most disagreeable
part of it was that Senator Riddleberger was a good man at heart and a
gentleman whose native abilities commanded respect and admiration. The Republic was just one hundred years old
when the first Senator was arrested, and I hope it may be many hundred years
before a similar scene is enacted.”
The Daily Times (Davenport, Iowa), February 17,
1891, page 1.
A Final
Riddle(burger)
Q: When Riddleberger left the Senate, why could no one could fill
his shoes?
A: Too many “snakes in his boots.”
[iv] The Evening Star (Washington DC), March
6, 1889, page 1.
[v] Pittsburgh Daily Post, March 4, 1889,
page 1.
[vi] Pittsburgh Daily Post, March 4, 1889,
page 1 (“There is not one of the Republican officers of the senate who does not
owe his position to Riddleberger’s vote, and now that they have no further use
for his support they treat him as no member of the body has been treated in a
long period of years.”).
[vii] Pittsburgh Daily Post, March 4, 1889,
page 1.
