What is up with those little umbrellas in exotic drinks? Who started it and why?
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
No, no, the SDSAB informed me, the tiki is the carved idol. Lest you get the wrong idea, the tiki cult isn’t some weird Santeria thing involving goat sacrifice but a retro appreciation of the tiki bar, also known as a Polynesian bar, which specializes in island decor, exotic cuisine, and tropical drinks topped with cocktail parasols and other fancy paraphernalia. The tiki joint, I was told, has played a pivotal if unappreciated role in American culture for more than 60 years, blah blah blah.
All right already, I said, I’ll find out about the damn cocktail umbrellas. I called Trader Vic’s, the San Francisco-based chain of Polynesian-style restaurants, figuring they were bound to know. (The term Polynesian applies somewhat loosely; it’s not like they’re serving poi.) Soon I was chatting with Peter Seely, grandson of Victor J. Bergeron, who in 1932 started the business that became Trader Vic’s. Peter informed me that never in its history had Trader Vic’s served a drink with a cocktail umbrella.
No opinions, no made-up stories about wedding veils, coal, suits, or brass tacks. Based on discussions with my grandfathers, both World War II veterans, and confirmed by several military sources, here is the definitive answer for where the “whole nine yards” came from. [This question was debated ad nauseam in More of the Straight Dope–C.A.] The “whole nine yards” refers to the length of one ammunition belt from a belly-gunner’s machine gun. When a target was overly resilient and the gunner was forced to expel all his ammunition to bring it down, it was said to have taken the “whole nine yards.” Also, when loading up for a mission that was going to be particularly dangerous, gunners would refer to bringing the “whole nine yards,” as they would need quite a bit of ammunition to complete the mission safely.
