September, 8, 2001
Sineád Dinsmore
“That’s for George”
When my 31-year-old cousin Sineád’s mother, my aunt Canice, mentioned the saying, “That’s for George” Sineád added, “My mom always taught me to cook with George in mind.” This meant for example, that whenever Sineád peeled potatoes, she always peeled an extra portion for “George.”
Sineád, who lives in Nicasio, Ca., is the second-born child, and only girl in a family of four: she has one older brother and two younger half-brothers—all are good trenchermen.
My aunt Canice said the contexts for using the saying, “That’s for George” were varied, though they seemed to revolve around food, and were possibly related to Depression lore. Sineád agreed that this was a way of ensuring that there’d be enough food to be had for dinner. The idea of plenty and enough: go leor (galore) was important.
(Collector’s note: my grandparents’ families survived the Great Irish Potato Famine of 1848, and we have many odd quirks associated with food, including sharing and saving food. We seem to have a great residual fear of running out of food. Unfortunately, it’s a trait that has been passed on, we’re all overweight, and we all overbuy and hoard rations “for a rainy day.” The end result is that the stored food eventually goes to waste.
My grandmother seemed to carry some residual guilt in that her family survived the Famine when so many had died... she often used to talk about how they were starving, reduced to eating grass, their mouths stained green...) then she’d give a small sob of grief, and she, a stoic who showed little emotion.)
The saying, “That’s for George” was traced back to Sineád’s and my grandfather (Canice’s father), Bernard Reilly, born in 1890, Granard, Co. Longford, Ireland, who often referred to “George.” Where he got the character from, we don’t know. But he did work for the San Francisco County jail and I speculate that he probably picked up many sayings from cops and inmates.
According to J.H. Brunvand in “The Study of American Folklore,” (Norton, 1966), that this modern proverb, is possibly a variation of using a saint’s name, “Let George do it,” may have referred to “the tradition of calling railroad porters by this name.” (p. 101).
The man who previously owned our summer home in Forest Knolls, Marin Co., Ca., was a railroad man for the Northwestern Pacific line and he was an acquaintance of my grandfather’s. They allegedly met during the 1906 earthquake where my grandfather was in charge of setting up tent cities. The house was entirely supported with purloined railroad ties, which were later recycled into raised retainer walls (nearly 100 years later, they’re still there), and for decades, we dug up railroad spikes in the yard.
The railroad line that terminated in Cazadero, in Sonoma Co., was a mile away from the house, on what is now Sir Francis Drake Road.
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