Scurrilous Cur
Woe to that scurrilous cur Tom Collins when I catch up to him!
The Tom Collins may have achieved its zenith in the decades after Prohibition, but it got its start in the 19th century, named after a notorious hoax that spread in the summer of 1874.
The original prank went something like this: A friend would run into you on the street and, with great concern, tell you he just overheard someone named Tom Collins at a bar down the street saying hateful and libelous things about you. You race to that bar to confront the bounder, where you would be told that Tom Collins had just left for a bar several blocks away. When you get there, Collins would already have decamped for another joint across town. As you chase all over the city, your friends convulse with laughter.
Soon, not in on the joke, newspapers in cities across the country were reporting on people trying to find the scurrilous fellow. "Tom Collins Still Among Us," the Decatur, Ill., Daily Republican reported in June 1874. "This individual kept up his nefarious business of slandering our citizens all day yesterday. But we believe that he succeeded in keeping out of the way of his pursuers. In several instances he came well nigh being caught, having left certain places but a very few moments before the arrival of those who were hunting him. His movements are watched to-day with the utmost vigilance."
When the papers realized it was all a gag, they got in on the act. The Daily Republican kept playing along for months, gamely reporting that Collins had been spotted in San Luis Obispo, Calif., on his way to Arizona. "Next spring," the paper predicted, Collins "will jauntily enter the South American republics."
It doesn't take much to imagine how Tom Collins came to be a drink. How many times does someone have to barge into a saloon demanding Tom Collins before the bartender takes the opportunity to offer him a cocktail so-named? Indeed, you have to wonder if the whole Tom Collins stunt wasn't a marketing gimmick to promote pub-crawling.
Speaking of frauds, I don't recommend ordering a Collins at a restaurant or bar these days. You will likely get a drink made not with lemon juice, but with that backbone of the lazy bar — all-purpose, lemon-lime sour mix. Some bars make their own sour mix fresh, but for the most part the stuff comes in bottles or jugs or out of the dispenser "gun," a factory-produced concoction of citrus concentrates and corn syrup. I resent drinks made with prefab mixes and would no more drink them than I would eat mashed potatoes contrived from potato flakes.
Let's see, gin, check, lemons, check, seltzer - nope, fresh out. But the local stores are open tomorrow.
I'm coming after you, Collins!
(Fun article to read.)





