Point of view: English spoken here

By Ed Silverman

I recently had the pleasure of attending a semi-annual luncheon meeting of past and present CBS radio newsmen and their broadcast industry guests. This was my fourth meeting and, as always, the room was crackling with intelligent conversation and sage observations on the state of broadcasting and the world in general. While the content was fascinating and revealing, what struck me most and invigorated me, was the respect for and use of the English language. Proper grammar, correct syntax, clear enunciation of colorful and understandable vocabulary. What a joy. I wanted to rush to the front of the restaurant and post a sign in the window — ENGLISH SPOKEN HERE!

Sure, these men and women were professional communicators, but each of them had an inherent love and respect for the breadth, complexity and possibilities of the English language that one rarely hears in everyday conversation anymore.

Because of the vastness of its vocabulary and its tricky grammar and syntax, English proves difficult for foreigners to learn and easy to mangle for both foreign and native born alike. And with the loosening of educational standards, the introduction and adoption of slang, street talk and regional colloquialisms, proper English, as we know it, “ain’t what it used to be.”

Having said all that, the very richness of the language makes it possible to mangle it and still make the meaning clear. Case in point: Yogi Berra and his foot in the mouth utterances that defy grammar but make perfect sense:

“It’s like deja vu all over again.”

“It ain’t over until it’s over.”

“Thank you for making this night necessary.”

“90% of baseball is mental, the other half is physical.”

“Always go to a friend’s funeral, otherwise they won’t go to yours.”

Who doesn’t have a relative or friend like my Aunt Lil, who couldn’t distinguish between cocktails and highballs, which produced, “So, before dinner could I offer you a cockball?” Or, in one of her philosophical moments, which were many, she would observe, “Life isn’t always a ball of cherries.”

One of my favorite mangled comments that made perfect sense in its simplicity was uttered by a freight car repairman known to all by only his last name--Vukovich. I was 17 years old and working in the Jersey City Penn Railroad Car Yards as an assistant freight car repairman. Atop each freight car, running the length of the roof, were parallel planks of wood, which provided a running board or footpath. As the weather and foot traffic eroded the wood, the boards needed replacement. My job as “assistant” involved carrying the huge lengths of wood from the shop (often more than a quarter of a mile away) to the freight car, then climbing up and with hammer and chisel, I would break loose the old bolts, tear off the old wood, climb back down, let the senior car repairman take my place, then pass the planks up to him to bolt in place. Doing most of the work entitled the “assistant” to make less than half of the senior man’s hourly salary. On this day, Vukovich gave me the honor of doing it all, including securing the planks. How lucky could I get? After going through the aforementioned routine by myself, while Vukovich smoked a vile, hand-rolled cigarette, I called down for him to throw up some new bolts so I could fasten the boards in place. To my dismay, the bolts he gave me were more than a half-inch too sort. I called down to him, “Vukovich, the bolts are too short!”

Without missing a beat, he called back the words that are still vivid in my memory after nearly 70 years, and will find a place in the mangled syntax hall of fame:

“How long is that bolt too short?”

Athletes are among the worst offenders, and the most colorful. Ranging from lightweight boxer Lou Hanbury, who, in response to a question from me about his age, responded, “I’m 21 years of old.” And later when his manager told him that he was offered a thousand dollars for a main event, he told his manager, “No way, tell them I won’t take a cent less than ten hundred.”

Then there was American Olympic heavyweight boxing champion Henry Tillman (he twice defeated Mike Tyson as an amateur) who told me before the finals in Los Angeles in 1984, that, “I live in South Central LA, only about eight miles from the boxing arena — except during rush hour.” Huh?

The multi million dollar-ayear pro basketball star, who (I’ll let him off the hook by not naming him) once commented about his team’s erratic performance, “You never know who’s going to show up. This team is like a regular Heckel and Jyde.” He followed that up with, “The game tonight is going to separate the men from the meece.”

We all know that besides talking too much, the average sports commentator is among the worst of the manglers. We all have our favorites, but let me leave you with this one. Going through his pre-game college football lineup, the analyst was giving the injury report. “Jones is out with a hip problem, Washington is out with the flu, Smith is out with a sprained ankle, and Warshovsky is out suffering from academics.” (Which may be the worst disease facing college athletes today.)

The point of all these examples is that because of its richness, it is possible to mangle the language, yet make your point eminently clear.

Most Americans are unaware that we have no “official” language, and while English is the de facto language through custom and usage, attempts to make it “official” continue to meet with strong resistance.

While multi-language signs and information postings at airports and bus terminals, for example, make perfect sense, the growing trend toward printing public documents and other informational materials in multi-language formats undermines, I believe, the need for the foreign-born to learn the English language.

ESL (English as a Second Language) programs are still a point of controversy, even among educators. Without getting into the merits of the program, I believe it is misnamed, and should be referred to as EFL, English as a First Language.

And, the biggest conundrum of all.

Despite the fact that there is no official U.S. language, under the law, immigrants who wish to become citizens must display a minimal working ability to read, write and speak English.

By the same token, there is no such literacy requirement for native-born Americans. Those of us who are born here are granted the privilege of growing up illiterate.

If there is no official U.S. language, how can we legally demand that foreigners must learn the language in order to become citizens while letting native-born Americans off the hook? There seems to be a double standard here that smacks of unequal application of the law. Mull that one over.

My mother always did say I was a troublemaker.

Ed Silverman, winner of 11 Emmys, is a former radio and TV correspondent and analyst for ABC News, and a former director of news for Channel 7.

This is part of the July 30, 2009 online edition of The Riverdale Press.

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