Sliding Down a Barrister

A Witty Confusion That Became Legend

“Billy Source has a bad habit of sliding down the barristers.”

This seemingly innocent sentence sparked one of literature’s most enduring mysteries. The confusion between “banister” and “barrister” created a delightful double entendre. One word describes a staircase railing. The other refers to a British lawyer. The mix-up produced humor that perfectly matched the wit of Dorothy Parker, the sharp-tongued poet and humorist to whom this joke has been attributed for decades.

However, the true origins of this wordplay remain frustratingly unclear. Dorothy Parker – Poetry Foundation Multiple sources claim different beginnings. The evidence spans several decades. Moreover, conflicting accounts make establishing the truth nearly impossible.

The First Recorded Appearance

The earliest known version appeared in January 1933. Source The newspaper ran a popular feature called “Classroom Boners.” This column paid readers $2 for funny student mistakes. Teachers submitted amusing errors from schoolwork and exams.

A woman named Mrs. A. E. Mortimer submitted the winning entry. She lived in Hollis, Long Island. Her contribution featured a student’s mistake: “Billy has a bad habit of sliding down the barristers.” This innocent error represented the first documented instance of the banister-barrister confusion in print.

The timing proves crucial. This publication predates any attribution to Dorothy Parker. Furthermore, the context suggests an authentic student error rather than deliberate wordplay.

Dorothy Parker Enters the Picture

Five months later, the joke gained a famous owner. In June 1933, gossip columnist Mark Barron published his version. He directly credited Dorothy Parker with the quip. According to Barron, Parker had recently returned from London. She reportedly joked that she “spent the whole time sliding down barristers.”

This marked a turning point. The joke now belonged to a celebrity wit. Parker’s reputation for sharp humor made the attribution believable. Additionally, her fame ensured the story would spread quickly.

The following year brought more support for Parker’s authorship. Alexander Woollcott, an influential critic and broadcaster, published “While Rome Burns” in 1934. His book included a chapter about Dorothy Parker. Woollcott recalled Parker commenting on a friend’s injury during a London trip. She supposedly expressed suspicion that “this poor lady had injured herself while sliding down a barrister.”

The Timeline Problem

Three separate citations appeared within just 13 months. This compressed timeline creates significant challenges. Determining which came first becomes nearly impossible. Moreover, establishing causation proves even more difficult.

Interestingly, Woollcott had written about Parker before. He published an article titled “Our Mrs. Parker” in August 1933. That earlier piece appeared in Hearst’s International-Cosmopolitan magazine. However, it contained no mention of the barrister joke. This absence raises questions about when Woollcott actually heard the quip.

The clustering of these references suggests several possibilities. Each theory offers a plausible explanation. Nevertheless, none can be definitively proven.

Theory One: From Student Error to Celebrity Wit

The first theory proposes an innocent origin. A student genuinely confused the two words. Mrs. Mortimer submitted this authentic mistake to the Daily News. The newspaper published it in January 1933.

Parker may have read this submission. Alternatively, someone might have told her about it. She recognized the joke’s potential. Therefore, she incorporated it into her own repertoire. Her celebrity status and reputation for quick wit made the transition natural.

This scenario explains the timeline perfectly. The student error appeared first. Parker’s version followed months later. Furthermore, this theory accounts for why the joke fit her style so perfectly. She simply recognized good material when she saw it.

Theory Two: Attribution by Association

The second theory suggests Parker never made this joke at all. Instead, journalists or publicity agents created the attribution. They recognized the wordplay matched Parker’s comedic style. Consequently, they assigned it to her because she was already famous for such wit.

This practice was common during the 1930s. Columnists frequently attributed anonymous jokes to celebrities. The celebrities gained publicity. The jokes gained credibility. Additionally, readers enjoyed connecting clever quips to famous personalities.

Several factors support this theory. Multiple variations of the joke exist. Different sources tell slightly different versions. Moreover, the joke’s risqué implications align perfectly with Parker’s public persona. This made her an ideal candidate for attribution.

Theory Three: Years of Private Circulation

A third possibility cannot be dismissed easily. Perhaps Parker created this wordplay years earlier. The Algonquin Round Table gathered regularly during the 1920s. This famous group included writers, critics, and actors. They were known for sophisticated verbal sparring.

The joke might have circulated privately within these circles. Its somewhat scandalous implications could have prevented publication. Therefore, it remained an insider joke for years. Then, in 1933, it finally appeared in print through two separate channels simultaneously.

This theory explains the mysterious timing. It also accounts for the joke’s polish and sophistication. Furthermore, it explains why multiple people seemed familiar with the quip already.

The Joke Spreads Through Culture

The attribution became increasingly complex over time. In 1937, Meyer Levin’s novel “The Old Bunch” mentioned the joke. A character remembered hearing it attributed to both Mae West and Dorothy Parker. This literary reference demonstrates how widely the quip had spread.

By 1943, John B. Opdycke included it in his reference book. “Don’t Say It: A Cyclopedia of English Use and Abuse” featured the joke under “barrister.” However, Opdycke attributed it to “Billy Boner.” This generic name represented anyone prone to malapropisms.

Publisher Bennett Cerf credited Parker in his 1944 book “Try and Stop Me.” He claimed she spent a summer in England. Upon returning, she allegedly explained she had devoted “the better part of her time to sliding up and down barristers.” Note the variation: “up and down” rather than just “down.”

Later Confirmations and Variations

Margaret Case Harriman’s 1951 book continued the tradition. “The Vicious Circle: The Story of the Algonquin Round Table” attributed the remark to “Dottie.” Harriman presented it as Parker’s response to questions about a friend’s broken leg during a London holiday.

Later accounts maintained the connection. Ben Hecht’s 1957 biography of Charles MacArthur included the story. Robert Hendrickson’s 1990 book “American Literary Anecdotes” also featured the quip. Both presented it as authentically Parker’s creation.

These repeated attributions created a self-reinforcing cycle. Each retelling strengthened the connection. Eventually, the joke became inseparable from Parker’s legacy. Indeed, most people today assume she originated it without question.

Why the Attribution Stuck

The joke’s persistence reveals something important about cultural memory. The wordplay perfectly captures Parker’s style. She was known for sophisticated, slightly naughty humor. The barrister joke exemplifies this approach precisely.

Parker’s public persona made her the ideal owner of this quip. She cultivated a reputation for sharp wit. She wrote poetry, short stories, and criticism. Additionally, she was famous for devastating one-liners. The barrister joke fits seamlessly into this collection.

The joke also reflects Parker’s cosmopolitan lifestyle. She traveled internationally. She moved in sophisticated circles. Therefore, a joke about British barristers seemed entirely plausible coming from her.

The Enduring Mystery

Despite decades of investigation, definitive proof remains elusive. Three theories exist. Each offers a reasonable explanation. However, none can be conclusively proven.

The evidence presents an intriguing puzzle. Did a student’s innocent mistake inspire a famous wit? Did journalists create the attribution for publicity? Or did Parker originate the joke years before it appeared in print? We may never know for certain.

What remains clear is the joke’s enduring appeal. The confusion between banister and barrister creates instant humor. The double entendre adds sophistication. Furthermore, the mystery surrounding its origins adds intrigue.

The Legacy of Linguistic Mischief

This wordplay has outlived its uncertain origins. It continues to circulate today. People still attribute it to Dorothy Parker. Moreover, they still laugh at the clever confusion.

The joke demonstrates the power of well-crafted humor. Simple wordplay can create lasting entertainment. Additionally, it shows how celebrity and wit intertwine in public memory. Once a joke becomes associated with a famous personality, the connection often becomes permanent.

The barrister-banister confusion also highlights the richness of English. Two similar-sounding words with completely different meanings create endless possibilities. This linguistic coincidence enabled the joke’s creation. Furthermore, it ensures the humor translates across generations.

Whether Dorothy Parker actually created this witty confusion matters less than its cultural impact. The joke has entertained readers for over 90 years. It perfectly captures an era of sophisticated wordplay. Most importantly, it reminds us that sometimes the best stories come with a bit of mystery attached.

Quote Me, maybe?

the quote G.O.A.T.