Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazette
Where is ‘blue Christmas’ from?
We have a question here that perhaps Helpful Reader can answer.
Where did the expression “blue Christmas” originate?
It did not begin with Elvis Presley.
It did not begin with Ernest Tubb, either, although that terrific country singer owned the song “Blue Christmas” about a decade before the King’s cover became a holiday hit in 1957 and then a perennial un-jolly holly classic. (Written in 1948 by Billy Hayes and Jay W. Johnson, the song as Tubb covered it was Billboard’s No. 1 jukebox hit for a week in January 1950. Curious? You can hear a recording here: arkansasonline.com/1207tubb.)
The term “blue Christmas” predates every single cover version of that song. How do we know this? Because the phrase “blue Christmas” — meaning a sad Christmas — appears in Arkansas newspapers and other American newspapers as early as 1930 — wait!
There it is earlier: 1928 … no, wait! 1920 … wait! It’s even earlier! … The archives of the Chattanooga Times Free Press have it Dec. 18, 1900, in an item picked up from the New York World:
A Blue British Christmas
Lord Kitchener’s report that eighteen officers and 555 men of Gen. Clements’ force are “missing” — which probably is a soft way of saying “captured by the Boers” — is certainly calculated to give England a blue Christmas.
For all I know, there could be even earlier citations. But what got me started on this fascinating, so far futile search was a headline published in 1920 in the Dec. 4 Arkansas Gazette:
Blue Christmas is ahead; Even Eatin’ Booze Barred
The Associated Press had reported the day before a reminder from the National Prohibition director that alcoholic beverages could not be used in cooking, even at Christmas. Some anonymous Gazette essayist distilled this information into a story quite a bit longer than the original dispatch, and it’s such fun to read, you must be allowed to read it here.
Normally we italicize and indent such verbatim quotations from the old newspapers, but this is too long for that. I trust Dear Reader simply to keep in mind the following words come from 1920 and not from me:
Flavoring of Foods With Alcoholic Spirits in Violation of Prohi Law and Gives Federal Agents a Chance to Grab ’Em
The pronunciamento of the national prohibition department
announced yesterday puts the spirit of Christmas in practically the same battered and disheveled class as the wellknown spirit of ’76.
A condensed translation of the edict is “Spirits of Christmas? How d’ye git that way? There will be no spirits.”
The little message of the n.p.d., designed by this great and gracious organization to bring cheer to the hearts of those whose cheer is derived from the elimination of cheer generally, puts the official kibosh on everything that looks like it might be even on hiccoughing terms with the Demon Rum.
Everything that doesn’t test at least 99.9% joylessness is barred.
The old-time plum pudding, which used to bring peace on earth, good will to men, when the flames were blown out and the residue applied to the purposes for which nature and the distiller intended it; the elusive maraschino cherry, which could be salvaged from the bottom of the glass only after approved methods of siphonage had been directed toward the contents of the glass; the steaming blend of eggs, milk, sugar, nutmeg and paradise, which constituted the only practical purpose ever discovered for a two-gallon cut-glass bowl — all these and a hideously large number of others are given the gate.
The excess of happiness which usually hits the heart of humanity around Christmas time apparently has waked the n.p.d. up to the fact that it is overlooking a bet. A scrutiny of the laws seemed to have convinced the n.p.d. that there wasn’t a crack in its laws on liquids through which a ray of sunshine might seep through, so the n.p.d. turned its attention to the solids.
With the drinking whiskey ruled out, the n.p.d. now turns its attention to the eating whiskey. Under this class comes practically all the foods that carry with them their antidotes for indigestion.
The Associated Press dispatch on the matter from Washington, which came appropriately sandwiched between an Armenian massacre and a triple murder in Chicago, reads as follows: “The flavoring of homemade Christmas plum pudding, mince pie, brandied cherries and peaches with alcoholic spirits, is in violation of the prohibition enforcement law, and such foods are subject to seizure.”
The only saving feature is that it is still three weeks to Christmas, and between now and that time, one might be able to land a job as a seizer for the n.p.d.
BACK TO 2020
In the above case, “blue Christmas” is triggered by “blue laws,” another term about which less is known than “everybody knows.”
In the past decade, more and more Christian churches embrace a (one assumes modern) tradition of marking winter solstice, the year’s longest night, with solemn services that validate communicants’ mourning as a genuine and respectable part of the Christmas season — the bleak midwinter part. But is that actually an ancient custom, Dear Reader?
“Blue Christmas” is not one of the idioms William Shakespeare gave to the language, apparently. His plays mention Christmas three times, and none involves the color blue.
Abraham Lincoln? Reportedly he took pills called “blue mass” in an attempt to lighten his melancholy, which could be severe. But a history essay about presidential medications says Lincoln dropped those pills early in his presidency. (See arkansasonline. com/1207pill.)
Or perhaps the term came from Queen Victoria, whose beloved prince consort, Albert, died Dec. 14, 1861, in the Blue Room at Windsor Castle. Plausibly, “blue Christmas” could have been something Victoria said, or caused to be said. In a letter to Leopold I, king of the Belgians, Dec. 24, 1861, Victoria Regina cries, “What a Xmas! I won’t think of it.” (Yes, she said Xmas, and yes, she used the article a. See arkansasonline. com/1207sad.)
Or perhaps the blue was something her mourning caused to happen, over time. Some black fabrics fade to blue, and England draped itself in black when Albert died.
I would go on speculating, but I can’t because I’m on deadline. So, Helpful Reader, do you know? And before you ask, no, I did not look it up in the Oxford English Dictionary. Our OED is downtown at the newspaper, and I am on deadline at my house. So maybe we should start with OED.