Jonathan Sale fills in the blank squares on the origin of a classic brainteaser (9 letters)


t is practically a century since the Sunday [clue A: fast like a train, 7 letters] became the first British newspaper to publish a crossword. Since then, this


GIVE US A CLUE! I


species of brainteaser has generated many cross words from the lips of baffled readers – none crosser than the exclamations uttered by shocked MI5 agents in the run-up to the D-Day invasion as they stared at the disturbing crossword in the Daily Telegraph. “One of the USA – 4 letters” was an innocent- sounding clue. It clearly referred to one of the states and “Utah” fitted nicely – yet unpleasantly also. It was the codename of a beach selected for one of the landings, as was “Omaha” – and that came up too. The increasingly spooked spooks realised that “Mulberry” was another clue’s solution – and the codename for the floating harbour to be towed across the Channel for supply ships. A crossword in the paper a few days later was


even more devastating, containing as it did “Neptune”, which was how D-Day planners referred to the naval support involved in the landings. To cap it all, Carruthers the answer to the innocent-sounding “Big-Wig 8 letters” was “overlord”, the hush-hush term chosen by (clue B: cigar-smoking Second World War leader, 9 letters) as the name of the entire operation. Was this a spy’s way, hidden in plain sight, of passing on secrets to the [clue C: don’t mention the war to them? 7 letters] about the invasion? MI5 found out the identity of the compiler and sent their best two agents to feel his collar. Why had he picked on these particular five words? they demanded an answer from 54-year-old teacher Leonard Dawe of Leatherhead, Surrey. “Why not?” replied Dawe. Was there some emergency legislation rationing certain words?


16 | theJournalist


WHAT is a ‘cryptic’ crossword? In 1925, readers of the Saturday Westminster learnt the hard way from the first contribution by a compiler who had adopted the name of ‘Torquemada’, the Señor Big of the Spanish Inquisition. “Puns, anagrams, rare


literary illusions and downright unsporting tricks,” snapped of one of those who ventured into the verbal torture chamber.


Crosswords crossed the Atlantic in 1924 on a


Thursday in late October when a young American walked into the Newspaper Features agency in London EC4 and pitched the idea. He showed some examples which he had compiled. “I was not impressed with the puzzle,” was the


instant response of the journalist he met, CW Shepherd, who judged that it was just a variation on the centuries-old acrostic in which one reads down several lines of type to pick out letters making a word or expression. This, he thought, would never catch on in Britain, but curious as to why it was a big deal in the US, he agreed to take a look at his visitor’s efforts. As he related in his memoir Let’s Walk Down


Fleet Street, Shepherd was highly intrigued by the mysterious black and white squares of the “Crosswords” (he graces them with a capital C) on his two-hour commute home. Just as intrigued on the way back on the Friday morning, he took them round to the editor of the Sunday Express. “They are merely a new form of acrostic,” was


Realising that this was not a one-man spy ring but a pure coincidence (think of monkeys typing Shakespeare) the agents left Leonard and Leatherhead in peace and D-Day remained safely under wraps. Who knows? Crosswords might have been a top-hole way of smuggling top-secret information out of the country, for they had been a familiar feature in newspapers since the first “word-cross” (as it was briefly known) appeared in the New York World on December 21 1913. Compiled by Englishman Arthur Wynne (pictured above right), who worked in the paper’s “tricks and jokes” department, this taxed few brain cells: “a boy, 3 letters” was “lad” and “animal of prey, 4 letters,” led to “lion”.


the verdict but the editor too agreed to take the “puzzles” home overnight. On Saturday morning an Express executive rang Shepherd: “They’re absolutely fascinating. We’ll buy half a dozen and start with one in tomorrow’s paper. By the way,” he added, “it has the word ‘honor’ in it, spelt in the American way. You might just take it back and Anglicise it. And hurry up with it.” It was only when the overjoyed Shepherd


sat down with the 49 squares (seven ‘horizontals’ by seven ‘verticals’) that he realised the problem posed by ‘honour’, press day or no press day. As he complained later “You try yourself to put an extra letter into the middle of a Crossword.” He ended up cobbling together such a drastic reconstruction of the original that he,


Cryptic and crafty “Puns and anagrams,”


agrees Richard Josephy, former deputy head teacher (and my brother-in-law). “Wordplay and very


clever ‘sideways’ definitions ,” he adds. “In most weeks, I finish all five cryptic crosswords in the Guardian.” Many clues in an


ordinary crossword have several possible answers ‘(tree – 3 letters’ might be ‘elm’ or ‘ash’) but a cryptic clue will


have just one that fits


the bill. Josephy gives two


recent examples. ‘Top of Amazon is wet – 3, 4 and 6 letters.’ A top is something a


woman could wear, such as a blouse, while an Amazon is probably a big girl. This suggests the


politically incorrect expression ‘big girl’s blouse’ – someone who is a bit wet. And: ‘One under 100


could be 99 – 4 letters.’ This is a ‘down’ clue, so if


you write the letter ‘C’ – the Latin for 100, of course – with the word ‘one’ underneath it, you get the answer ‘cone’. All this is well


above the pay grade of anyone who struggles to fill in an ordinary crossword. However, even


Josephy is defeated by the specially extra-cryptic crosswords of Azed in the Observer. “I have glanced


at them but never done one,” he says. “Fiendish.”


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27