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Before the great crash there were several discussions concerning the word “hello” and its use in the 1860s and at events. I provided several examples that I transcribed from period newspapers and literature. I happened to save those and thought I would post them again for future research and/or discussion. I’ve found a couple early uses of the word “hello” going as far back as 1826. Although the usage appears to be sparse at that time, the word gradually becomes more commonplace in print closer to the mid 19th century.
“Jim!”
“Hello.”
“I’ve got a conundrum for you.”
“Have you-give it to us; I’m good for it.”
“Suppose my wife was to fall overboard some day, what letter of the alphabet would express my wish in regard to her?”
“Letter B, (let her be,) of course”
Brooklyn Eagle
Brooklyn, New York
December 18, 1848
Page: 2
The Sheriff, almost as soon as he missed our hero, heard him splashing down the creek. He plunged into the swamp, with the intention of heading him, but the mud was so soft that after floundering about a little while, he gave it up, and returned to the road, cursing as much for the loss of his black bottle, as of the Captain.
“Hello, Ellis!” shouted Suggs.
“Hello, yourself!”
“Don’t try that swamp no more; it’ll mire butterflies, in spots!”
Traits of American Humor
By Native Authors
ed by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
London: Colburn and Co. Publishers, 1852
Page 270
THE UGLY FAMILY- In one of the lower districts of the Palmetto state, there once lived a family of six or seven, who were known far and wide as the ‘Ugly family.’ One of them, Jake, was so ‘onspeakably hard favored, that it made one feel as if he had bitten a green persimmon to look at him, and when he walked through the streets, the dogs slung their tails and sneaked off, too scared to bark.
The fame of this family spread through the country, and at last reached the ears of a Georgian, who, for along time, had held undisputed possession of the celebrated penknife. The individual at length determined to pay a visit to the ugly family, and endeavor to dispose of the aforesaid knife, so one morning he crossed the Savannah. About noon he saw a wagon ahead, and rode up to inquire the whereabouts of ‘the family’
‘Hello, stranger!’ said he to a man walking by the side of the wagon.
‘Hello, yourself!’ exclaimed the wagoner, turning around and disclosing a countenance so tremendously plain, that the Georgian almost dropped from his horse.
‘I say,’ said the Georgian, recovering a little from the astonishment, ;are you not Ugly Jake himself!’
The wagoner shook his head, and ‘grinned a ghastly smile that made him look like the nightmare personified.
“I’ll bet you ten dollars that you are the ugliest man in the state,’ said the Georgian.
‘Done!’ said the wagoner; ‘come here,’—Ang going to the side of the wagon, he called out, ‘wake up, Jake, and put you head out here’
The Georgian, burning with curiosity, leaned forward, as the cover was slowly raised up. Suddenly his eyes fell upon a physiognomy so woefully, boundlessly, overpowering ugly, that it seemed to be forced out of the double extract of delirium tremens.
The horse snorted and started back in fright and threw his rider over his head, but the latter had scarcely touched the ground before he was mounted again. Throwing down the ten dollars and his penknife, without saying a word, ‘he struck a bee line for the Savannah,’ looking alternately over each shoulder, as long as the wagon remained in sight.
Brooklyn Eagle
Brooklyn, New York
July 23, 1852
page 1
Small boy on tip-toe to companions.-“Sh-h- stop your noise, all of you.”
Companions-“Hello, Tommy, what’s up now?”
Small-“We’ve got a new baby-very weak and tired-walked all the way from heaven last night-mustn’t to kicking up a row around here.”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
September 3, 1860; Page 1
On arriving at Philadelphia tickets were delivered to us on being severed from our luggage, which would enable us to claim it on reaching the Philadelphia Hotel; and I then proceeded to walk to the hotel, because the streets at night were not only crowded but particularly filled with that influential class the Boh-hoys, and I desired to be careful of my dogs. I then proceeded through the streets in front of my four-footed companions, George attached to their chains in the rear to keep them steady. All at once, from behind a dark corner of an adjoining dirty little street, and on seeing my dogs at my heels, there rushed about fifteen or twenty of the lowest Rowdies and Boh-hoys, one of whom-I suppose the leader-stopped short, and, looking me full in the face, cried out in a most insolent nasal twang,
“Hum-hum-hello-stranger-are you a dog-catcher?” At this question his companions roared with laughter, and I replied,
“Yes, I am; I catch all the nice and civil dogs I can find, give them lots of grub, and treat them well; but if I come across an insolent puppy like yourself, I just about lap into him uncommon; so you’d better cut!”
The manner in which I gave vent to this rejoinder so fascinated the spokesman Boh-hoy’s followers that they in turn roared with mirth, in my favour, and I passed on without further molestation.
The English Sportsman in the Western Prairies
By Grantley F. Berkeley
London: Hurst and Blackett, 1861
Page 54
A returned soldier, in the Cincinnati Commercial, writing from West Liberty, Ohio says it is rather humiliating to one who has served twenty months in the army, to hear expressions like the following from the lips of those we are fighting to protect:
“Hello, John, when did you get back? I see by your dress that you are a soldier.”
“Yes, I have served twenty months.-Have you ever been in the army?”
“No, I ain’t such a d-n fool! I am a Government contractor!”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
January 26, 1862; Page 1
An Irish soldier called out to his companion:
“Hello! Pat, I have just taken a prisoner.”
“Bring him along, then.; bring him along.”
“He won’t come.”
“Then come yourself.”
“He won’t let me.”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
April 28, 1862; Page 1
VICKSBURG.- The rebels are firing pieces of railroad irons and crowbars. This is not rumor, but fact. Johnston has fallen back twenty miles.
A rebel yesterday ventured to cry out from his rifle pit to our pickets, “Hello, Yank.”
“What do you want?” replied one of our men.
“Why don’t you shoot?” queried the reb.
“We have quit shooting prisoners,” was the caustic reply of the Yankee.
The weather is pleasant, for a Southern climate. The days not excessively hot, and the nights cool.-Correspondence Missouri Democrat.
Philadelphia Press
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
July 6, 1863; Page 4
John.-Hello! Billy, how are you this morning!
Billy.-Fine thank you, how are times with you?
The Democratic Watchman
Bellefonte, PA
Excerpt from “A Dialogue”
May 6, 1864; Page 2
THE LATEST DODGE.- Buffalo is a very patriotic city, if the newspapers tell the truth. The other day (so one of out exchanges says) a very tall, coarse-looking, awkward girl was noticed in Main street drawing a little wagon containing a child. “Hello, my girl!” says a chap in search of recruits, “you’d male a first-rate soldier if you only had a pair of breeches!” “You’d better not talk to me, you impudent feller: if you do, I’ll call the police!” exclaimed the awkward nurse. “Hoity, toity, my dear: don’t be afraid of me-I shan’t carry you off!” says the chap after recruits: “but I say you really would make a good soldier, and I’m in earnest.” The tall gal did call the police and accused “that recruiting feller” with insulting her. The officer after looking pretty sharp at the tall gal, concluded to take her into custody instead of the man who insulted her. She was found to be a tall boy in disguise, who, to escape the draft, had turned female and hired himself out as a nurse. At the Police Court he got so frightened at what the people said to him that he did actually enlist, and is now on his way to Washington.
The Erie Observer
Erie, Pennsylvania
30 April 1864; Page 3
“I was hit,” he said, “and it knocked me down. I lay there all night, and the next day the fight was renewed. I could stand the pain, yer see, but the balls was flyin’ all round, and I wanted to get away. I couldn’t see nothing,’ though. So I waited and listened; and at last I heard a feller groanin’ beyond me.
“’Hello!” says I.
“’Hello, yourself,” says he.
“’Who be yer?” says I-‘a rebel?’
“’You’re a Yankee,’ says he.
“’So I am,’ says I. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
“’My leg’s smashed,’ says he.
“’Can’t yer walk?’
“’No. ‘Can’t you see?’
“’Yes.’
“’Well,’ says I, ;you’re a -------rebel, but will you do me a little favor?’
“’I will,’ says he, ‘ef I ken.’
“Then I says: ‘Well, ole butternut, I can’t see nothing’. My eyes is knocked out; but I ken walk. Come over yere. Let’s git out o’ this. You p’int the way, an’ I’ll tote yer off the field on my back.’
“Bully for you,’ says he.
Thrilling Stories of Great Rebellion
By Charles S. Greene
Philadelphia: John E Potter and Company, 1864
[Excerpt from “Joe Parsons, the Maryland Boy, ”page 148]
When about 50 yards distant we were hailed “Ship ahoy!” After deliberating whether I should not give him some warning, I felt so sure of striking him, I finally answered “Hello,” and in an official and stern tone as possible. Another hail, “What ship is that?” I answered, almost immediately, “the steamer Live Yankee.”
The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies. / Series 1 - Volume 28 (Part I)
Washington: Government Printing Office, 1890
[Excerpt from the Report of Capt. J. Carlin, commanding Torpedo Ra, from Charleston, August 22, 1863. Page 681]
***
“Jim!”
“Hello.”
“I’ve got a conundrum for you.”
“Have you-give it to us; I’m good for it.”
“Suppose my wife was to fall overboard some day, what letter of the alphabet would express my wish in regard to her?”
“Letter B, (let her be,) of course”
Brooklyn Eagle
Brooklyn, New York
December 18, 1848
Page: 2
***
The Sheriff, almost as soon as he missed our hero, heard him splashing down the creek. He plunged into the swamp, with the intention of heading him, but the mud was so soft that after floundering about a little while, he gave it up, and returned to the road, cursing as much for the loss of his black bottle, as of the Captain.
“Hello, Ellis!” shouted Suggs.
“Hello, yourself!”
“Don’t try that swamp no more; it’ll mire butterflies, in spots!”
Traits of American Humor
By Native Authors
ed by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
London: Colburn and Co. Publishers, 1852
Page 270
***
THE UGLY FAMILY- In one of the lower districts of the Palmetto state, there once lived a family of six or seven, who were known far and wide as the ‘Ugly family.’ One of them, Jake, was so ‘onspeakably hard favored, that it made one feel as if he had bitten a green persimmon to look at him, and when he walked through the streets, the dogs slung their tails and sneaked off, too scared to bark.
The fame of this family spread through the country, and at last reached the ears of a Georgian, who, for along time, had held undisputed possession of the celebrated penknife. The individual at length determined to pay a visit to the ugly family, and endeavor to dispose of the aforesaid knife, so one morning he crossed the Savannah. About noon he saw a wagon ahead, and rode up to inquire the whereabouts of ‘the family’
‘Hello, stranger!’ said he to a man walking by the side of the wagon.
‘Hello, yourself!’ exclaimed the wagoner, turning around and disclosing a countenance so tremendously plain, that the Georgian almost dropped from his horse.
‘I say,’ said the Georgian, recovering a little from the astonishment, ;are you not Ugly Jake himself!’
The wagoner shook his head, and ‘grinned a ghastly smile that made him look like the nightmare personified.
“I’ll bet you ten dollars that you are the ugliest man in the state,’ said the Georgian.
‘Done!’ said the wagoner; ‘come here,’—Ang going to the side of the wagon, he called out, ‘wake up, Jake, and put you head out here’
The Georgian, burning with curiosity, leaned forward, as the cover was slowly raised up. Suddenly his eyes fell upon a physiognomy so woefully, boundlessly, overpowering ugly, that it seemed to be forced out of the double extract of delirium tremens.
The horse snorted and started back in fright and threw his rider over his head, but the latter had scarcely touched the ground before he was mounted again. Throwing down the ten dollars and his penknife, without saying a word, ‘he struck a bee line for the Savannah,’ looking alternately over each shoulder, as long as the wagon remained in sight.
Brooklyn Eagle
Brooklyn, New York
July 23, 1852
page 1
***
Small boy on tip-toe to companions.-“Sh-h- stop your noise, all of you.”
Companions-“Hello, Tommy, what’s up now?”
Small-“We’ve got a new baby-very weak and tired-walked all the way from heaven last night-mustn’t to kicking up a row around here.”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
September 3, 1860; Page 1
***
On arriving at Philadelphia tickets were delivered to us on being severed from our luggage, which would enable us to claim it on reaching the Philadelphia Hotel; and I then proceeded to walk to the hotel, because the streets at night were not only crowded but particularly filled with that influential class the Boh-hoys, and I desired to be careful of my dogs. I then proceeded through the streets in front of my four-footed companions, George attached to their chains in the rear to keep them steady. All at once, from behind a dark corner of an adjoining dirty little street, and on seeing my dogs at my heels, there rushed about fifteen or twenty of the lowest Rowdies and Boh-hoys, one of whom-I suppose the leader-stopped short, and, looking me full in the face, cried out in a most insolent nasal twang,
“Hum-hum-hello-stranger-are you a dog-catcher?” At this question his companions roared with laughter, and I replied,
“Yes, I am; I catch all the nice and civil dogs I can find, give them lots of grub, and treat them well; but if I come across an insolent puppy like yourself, I just about lap into him uncommon; so you’d better cut!”
The manner in which I gave vent to this rejoinder so fascinated the spokesman Boh-hoy’s followers that they in turn roared with mirth, in my favour, and I passed on without further molestation.
The English Sportsman in the Western Prairies
By Grantley F. Berkeley
London: Hurst and Blackett, 1861
Page 54
***
A returned soldier, in the Cincinnati Commercial, writing from West Liberty, Ohio says it is rather humiliating to one who has served twenty months in the army, to hear expressions like the following from the lips of those we are fighting to protect:
“Hello, John, when did you get back? I see by your dress that you are a soldier.”
“Yes, I have served twenty months.-Have you ever been in the army?”
“No, I ain’t such a d-n fool! I am a Government contractor!”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
January 26, 1862; Page 1
***
An Irish soldier called out to his companion:
“Hello! Pat, I have just taken a prisoner.”
“Bring him along, then.; bring him along.”
“He won’t come.”
“Then come yourself.”
“He won’t let me.”
The Republican Compiler
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
April 28, 1862; Page 1
***
VICKSBURG.- The rebels are firing pieces of railroad irons and crowbars. This is not rumor, but fact. Johnston has fallen back twenty miles.
A rebel yesterday ventured to cry out from his rifle pit to our pickets, “Hello, Yank.”
“What do you want?” replied one of our men.
“Why don’t you shoot?” queried the reb.
“We have quit shooting prisoners,” was the caustic reply of the Yankee.
The weather is pleasant, for a Southern climate. The days not excessively hot, and the nights cool.-Correspondence Missouri Democrat.
Philadelphia Press
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
July 6, 1863; Page 4
***
John.-Hello! Billy, how are you this morning!
Billy.-Fine thank you, how are times with you?
The Democratic Watchman
Bellefonte, PA
Excerpt from “A Dialogue”
May 6, 1864; Page 2
***
THE LATEST DODGE.- Buffalo is a very patriotic city, if the newspapers tell the truth. The other day (so one of out exchanges says) a very tall, coarse-looking, awkward girl was noticed in Main street drawing a little wagon containing a child. “Hello, my girl!” says a chap in search of recruits, “you’d male a first-rate soldier if you only had a pair of breeches!” “You’d better not talk to me, you impudent feller: if you do, I’ll call the police!” exclaimed the awkward nurse. “Hoity, toity, my dear: don’t be afraid of me-I shan’t carry you off!” says the chap after recruits: “but I say you really would make a good soldier, and I’m in earnest.” The tall gal did call the police and accused “that recruiting feller” with insulting her. The officer after looking pretty sharp at the tall gal, concluded to take her into custody instead of the man who insulted her. She was found to be a tall boy in disguise, who, to escape the draft, had turned female and hired himself out as a nurse. At the Police Court he got so frightened at what the people said to him that he did actually enlist, and is now on his way to Washington.
The Erie Observer
Erie, Pennsylvania
30 April 1864; Page 3
***
“I was hit,” he said, “and it knocked me down. I lay there all night, and the next day the fight was renewed. I could stand the pain, yer see, but the balls was flyin’ all round, and I wanted to get away. I couldn’t see nothing,’ though. So I waited and listened; and at last I heard a feller groanin’ beyond me.
“’Hello!” says I.
“’Hello, yourself,” says he.
“’Who be yer?” says I-‘a rebel?’
“’You’re a Yankee,’ says he.
“’So I am,’ says I. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
“’My leg’s smashed,’ says he.
“’Can’t yer walk?’
“’No. ‘Can’t you see?’
“’Yes.’
“’Well,’ says I, ;you’re a -------rebel, but will you do me a little favor?’
“’I will,’ says he, ‘ef I ken.’
“Then I says: ‘Well, ole butternut, I can’t see nothing’. My eyes is knocked out; but I ken walk. Come over yere. Let’s git out o’ this. You p’int the way, an’ I’ll tote yer off the field on my back.’
“Bully for you,’ says he.
Thrilling Stories of Great Rebellion
By Charles S. Greene
Philadelphia: John E Potter and Company, 1864
[Excerpt from “Joe Parsons, the Maryland Boy, ”page 148]
***
When about 50 yards distant we were hailed “Ship ahoy!” After deliberating whether I should not give him some warning, I felt so sure of striking him, I finally answered “Hello,” and in an official and stern tone as possible. Another hail, “What ship is that?” I answered, almost immediately, “the steamer Live Yankee.”
The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies. / Series 1 - Volume 28 (Part I)
Washington: Government Printing Office, 1890
[Excerpt from the Report of Capt. J. Carlin, commanding Torpedo Ra, from Charleston, August 22, 1863. Page 681]
***
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