Q Where does the term “stool pigeon” come from? – R. F., Santa Fe, N.M.

A: Now used to refer to someone who informs on wrongdoers, “stool pigeon” is an Americanism that is believed to have originated with a practice used in hunting. In early years, when hunters were on the lookout for pigeons as targets, they would often capture one pigeon and then tie the bird to a stool so that it could not move. (The “stool” in this case most likely refers to a tree stump, not a piece of furniture.)

When the bird struggled in its attempts to free itself, it would attract several more of its own kind, thereby giving the hunter more to shoot or trap. The live bird literally served as a decoy that would lure its fellow pigeons to their own demise.

“Stool pigeon” acquired the figurative sense that we recognize today in the early 19th century. Playing on the notion of bringing down one’s fellow man, now the phrase can refer to a person (such as a member of a crime syndicate) who reports his or her fellow criminals to the authorities, or to a person who is sent by police to act as a spy within a group of criminals and to report back useful information.

The derivative synonym “stoolie” was first recorded in 1924.

Q A co-worker of mine is about to retire. He is working on his last project, and keeps referring to it as his “last hurrah.” I’m embarrassed to admit I’m not familiar with the expression. Can you explain it, and tell me where it comes from? – D. L., Whiting, Maine

A: A “last hurrah” is simply a last effort or attempt. The expression sometimes connotes a triumphant or tragic end, and it is often used to describe the end of someone’s career. For example, we have a citation in our files describing Walter Cronkite’s last news broadcast before retiring as his “last hurrah.”

The expression comes from the title of the 1956 novel “The Last Hurrah” by American author Edwin O’Connor. A film based on the novel and starring Spencer Tracy was made in 1958. The novel depicts the unsuccessful last campaign of Frank Skeffington, a veteran politician and boss of the political machine of an unnamed eastern city.

Skeffington’s last bid for re-election as mayor is his “last hurrah.” The novel is believed to be modeled on the career of James M. Curley, who during the first half of the 20th century was elected mayor of Boston four times, none of the terms consecutive.

The great success of O’Connor’s novel resulted in its title becoming a common figurative expression in American English, especially in the worlds of politics and sports.

Q I’ve never understood how a railroad station came to be called a “depot.” Isn’t a depot a place where things are stored? – C. N., Potsdam, N.Y.

A: The term “depot” does indeed signify a place in which things are stored. It comes, by way of French, from the Latin word “depositus,” meaning “a deposit, especially for safekeeping.” Since at least 1795, when a book of travels through Britain described a certain inn as “the ‘depot’ or storehouse of the Colliers of the Trent,” the term “depot” has been used to describe an array of storage places, including horse stables, fuel repositories and prisoner-of-war camps. Often, the word “depot” was used (as it still is) to describe a place in which military supplies are stored. This use of the term in military contexts led to its association with a place for the reception and forwarding of military replacements.

With the advent of train travel in the early 1800s came the need for a word to describe the place from which passengers and freight are transported. Since “depot” already signified a place for reception and forwarding, it was the natural choice.

Q I didn’t grow up on a farm, but it seems that wire used to bale hay would be strong and durable. Why, then, do we use “haywire” to refer to something that has broken? – D.A., Duluth, Minn.

A: You’re right, the wire used for baling hay is strong, and it’s also versatile. It comes in a variety of gauges and types, and it is often used in makeshift repairs. This hurried and temporary use of baling, or hay, wire is what gave rise to the adjective “haywire.” When the adjective was first used, it was primarily in the phrase “haywire outfit,” which denoted originally a poorly equiped group of loggers and then anything that was flimsy or patched together.

This led to a “hastily patched-up” sense, which in turn gave us the more commonly used meaning, “broken-down, out of order” (as in “The radio went haywire”). The leap from machine to human beings was a short one, and we now use “haywire” to refer to things that don’t work properly or people who have lost control.

Q Could you please explain the origin of the expression, “close, but no cigar”? – R.C., Saxton’s River, Vt.

A: “Close, but no cigar,” meaning “almost, but not quite,” gained popularity in the United States in the early part of the 20th century. It originated at fairs and carnivals, where it was the cry of the carnies beating another poor sucker out of his money.

Just as they do today, fairs in the early 1900s often included contests of strength, marksmanship or dexterity, usually aimed particularly to entice young men. A winner would take home not a stuffed animal, the common prize today, but a cigar. The operators naturally wanted to tip the odds in their favor, so the games were often rigged to put success just out of the contestant’s reach, prompting repeated attempts.

More often than not, however, the contestant would be rewarded with no more than the carny’s call, “Close, but no cigar.” It has now settled into the language as a sort of catchphrase used in varying contexts far removed from the world of the midway.

This column was prepared by the editors of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition.

Readers may send questions to Merriam-Webster’s Wordwatch, P.O. Box 281, 47 Federal St., Springfield, MA 01102.

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