"WORDS, WORDS, WORDS”

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 792, 12 October 1929, Page 5

" WORDS, WORDS, WORDS”

JUDGING GIANT COMPETITION

A HERCULEAN TASK (Written for THE SUXf MILLIONS of words, built up by hundreds of persons, an everlasting struggle with consonants and vowels, aud the exasperating intrusion of word-coiners—these are only s few of the things the judge of a word-building competition has to contend with. Nearly everyone has participated in Che various word-building, limerickconstructing. slogan-devising arid other "wordy” competitions that are advertised from time to time, but few realise thQ magnitude of the adjudicating work they involve. I was once engaged in the task of judging a word-building competition and have painful memories of a monotonous and irksome job—happily it was relieved by occasional* flashes of humour. The competition was organised by a large Auckland trading house to ■boost” a line of gramophones and consisted of building as many words as possible out ot the letters contained in the sentence “ gramophones are best,”: using each letter only as often as it appeared in that sentence. Unfortunately for me. the promoters had organised the competition very hurriedly and had not realised that the particular combination of consonants and vowels in the prescribed sentence gave almost unlimited opportunities of word-building . . . the winner had approximately 28,000 correct words. Add to this the fact that entries poured in from all over New Zealand in a positive deluge, and my bewilderment, will be understood. Well do I remember my feelings when I tirst took over. The huge pile of entries on the floor of my room, the rows ot benzine cases in which to arrange them in numerical order, the Webster’s” that was ta be my only companion and guide in a forest of words.

Then there were the messenger, boys who staggered into my room after the arrival ot each mail, weighed down with big dispatch baskets filled with more entries. Each day saw the pile growing larger. It was impossible for me to open and classify them as rapidly as they came in, and so the mountain grew and grew . . . and I knew it had me beaten. I was snowed in.. How I hated those hoys! For over a fortnight I sat and opened and classified the efforts of hundreds of New Zealanders who wanted a free gramophone, or, failing that, one of the consolation prizes. After that I made some headway and was able to start the judging.

A reputable dictionary tells us that a word is, among other things, “something that symbolises an idea!” As to the truth of this I can vouch. Every wretched word T dealt with gave me a new idea on word-building competitions, their promoters and their participants. Through page after page I pursued my task, checking-up on consonants, counting vowels, and consulting friend Webster in order to be sure that certain words did in fact exist. Some entrants had a penchant for word-coining! That was where the blue pencil was used a little more viciously. For weeks this was my daily job. Without incurring the risk of brain fever it was impossible to work continuously.' Two hours, I judged, was the limit of my fortitude, and accordingly I would repair to that department where I might, for a few minutes, relieve the oppressiveness by listening to melodies . issuing front those very machines the desire to increase the sales of which was the cause of my nerve-wracking employment. And then back to the den for another two hours of it! Occasional touches of humour made things a little more bearable, though. There was the Taranaki blacksmith who bound the pages of his manuscript together with stout cast iron strips, which he riveted. Doubtless he intended that his work should go down to posterity unscathed. A woman in Eeilding sent in her effort on the reverse side of a roll of wallpaper. I stood on the loose end of the roll and gave the free portion a kick. Away it went, and there were miles and miles of words stretched out before me, or so it seemed. Even the lack of foolscap, or of the wherewithal to buy it, was not to stand in the way of a free gramophone. One fond Epsom mother called on me and told proudly of how her little Eustace had laboured every night after lessons were done and had "made up” 476 words, and "please would you send him a bicycle instead of a gramophone as he is not very musical!” * The lowest prize-winner had about 16,000 correct words. 1 had not the heart to disillusion her. The entries ranged front nine words to 35,000! The North Auckland farmer who sent in the nine had, after infinite pains and much brain-cudgel-ling, discovered nine words which used each letter in the sentence exactly as often as it appeared in that sentence, but giving it only “one round!” He had misread the conditions, and had made each letter a “one-lifer” only. Once used to the maximum, the letter was marked off as “dead.” I wondered if there were another person in New Zealand who could have solved such a knotty problem. As to the 35,000 eutry, several thousand archaic inclusions were disallowed, which put the entrant well down the scale. The conditions of the competition stated that points would be allowed for neatness and attractiveness in the event of a tie, and some of the entries were presented in novel ways.

One arrived from Stewart Island in 'he form of a shaving tidy, the pages being fixed inside two hard-backed covers that were artistically decorated after the fashion of some of the more ornate cretonnes.

A little Kingsland girl supplied a most attractive cover design with an entry that unfortunately amounted to only about 1,200 words. An exact facsimile of the tirst prize cabinet gramophone appeared in the centre of the cover, and on either side was a lass in graceful Victorian dress standing tiptoe. haud to ear, to cty.cli the music 33 it fell. Chronologically, the froekiug of the maidens did not agree with the presence of the gramophone, but the work was very well done. I have often thought of the countless hours that went into the competition. Hundreds of persons, ranging in age from primary school children to “re’■ored grey beards,” living anywhere from Parenga to Stewart Island, spent 3 kes building up millions of words, “be midnight oil was burned with a

vengeance in many a home, and, as letters testified, work was often carried on till the chill grey light of dawn. The lure of the free gramophone was all-pervading! Let it be said, though, that several competitors confessed that, having arrived at a stage where they were utterly “fed up” with the seemingly endless job before them, and having decided thereupon to quit, they found themselves unable to do so! The insidious word-building fever had them truly in its toils, and so, blindly, they sweated on, fascinated beyond hope of rescue!

Amusing indeed were the comments made in letters from some of these word-ridden souls. Several delivered praise that, having built the last word, their slavery was over. One or two were no less thankful that they were able, at last, to spend a day without thoughts of their verbal bondage predominating over everything else. A man in Greymouth added the fateful last word just before breakfast, and loud was his joy that he could go and eat in peace. One old lady was astonished at the number of words in the English language —she knew how many there were after her labours were completed and devo.utly prayed that she would never be called upon to use one half of them. (Her entry consisted of about 800 words.) She confided that not even her nine children, taken cumulatively, had given her to such abnormal worry and mental unrest as that devastating competition.

But their thankfulness at the cessation of their labours was not in any way to be compared with mine when I had decided on the last consolation prize-winner, and my slavery was over. R.M.R.W,