The Boontling Lingo of Boonville

Imagine this: you’re sitting in a general store in a small, isolated town in Northern California, sometime around 1910. The locals around you are chatting away, but you can only catch a few familiar words. They’re speaking English, but it’s twisted into a code you can’t decipher. They might be talking about a “horn of zeese,” complaining about being “Charlie Balled,” or looking forward to a “tidrick.”

You haven’t stumbled into a foreign country. You’ve just walked into the world of Boontling, one of America’s most fascinating and unique linguistic inventions.

The Secret Lingo of Anderson Valley

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the remote Anderson Valley in Mendocino County, California, was a world unto itself. The main town, Boonville, was the hub of a community based on farming, logging, and, most importantly, hop growing. It was in these hop fields that a new way of speaking began to sprout, cultivated by the women and children who worked there.

This jargon, which came to be known as Boontling (a blend of “Boonville” and “lingo”), wasn’t a full-fledged language with its own grammar. It was an argot—a secret vocabulary used by an in-group. Its primary purpose was deliciously simple: to speak freely. Locals could gossip, tell racy jokes, or discuss sensitive topics right in front of outsiders (called bright-lighters, for the headlights of their cars) or even their own uninitiated elders without being understood.

What started as a playful secret among the younger residents soon blossomed into a community-wide phenomenon. At its peak, it’s estimated that over 1,000 people—a significant portion of the valley’s population—could “harp” Boontling fluently. To “harp” meant to speak the lingo, and it became a badge of local identity.

How to “Harp” Boontling: The Linguistic Recipe

Boontling is a case study in folk etymology and human creativity. It drew its vocabulary from the people, places, and events of Anderson Valley. Its words were formed through a few key methods:

• Clipping and Abbreviation: The most straightforward method was simply shortening English words. Boont for Boonville, apple-head for a local girl or girlfriend, and Mendocino becoming Mendo.
• Personal Names and Nicknames: This is the heart and soul of Boontling. A huge portion of the lexicon is derived from the names or quirks of local residents. For example, a man named Jeff Vestal was known for building enormous, roaring fires, so a large fire became a jeffer. A man named Charlie Ball was famously easy to embarrass, so to embarrass someone became to Charlie Ball them.
• Place Names: Locations around the valley were repurposed as words. The area near Indian Creek was a popular drinking spot, so Indian Creek became shorthand for taking a drink. A deepend, meaning a sheep, referred to the “deep end” of the valley where they were often grazed.
• Loanwords: The community had contact with other groups, and Boontling borrowed words from Spanish (e.g., bucky for a nickel, from “buckaroo”) and the local Pomo Native American languages.
• Sound and Description: Some words are simply descriptive or onomatopoeic. Bahl gorms, meaning “good food”, literally meant “ball gums”—something good to chew on.

A Pocket Dictionary of Boontling

The vocabulary of Boontling is where its charm truly shines. Each word tells a miniature story about life in the valley. Here are a few classic examples:

• Horn of zeese: A cup of coffee. This masterpiece of folk etymology comes from a local named Zeke, who had a rather large nose. His son, who made strong coffee, was said to make coffee “like Zeke’s horn” (nose). Over time, “Zeke’s horn” was shortened to zeese, and a cup became a horn. Thus, a “cup of Zeke’s” became a “horn of zeese.”
• Bahl gorms: Excellent food. As mentioned, literally “ball gums.” To say something was “bahl” meant it was good.
• Bright-lighter: An outsider or city-dweller, so named for the novel sight of automobile headlights piercing the valley’s darkness.
• Tidrick: A party or social gathering. This supposedly came from the lively motion of a “tidrick”, a small bird.
• Kimmie: A man, father, or fellow. Derived from a common phrase used to call a dog or a man: “Come here.”
• Greeley: A newspaper or any piece of gossip. Named after Horace Greeley, the famous editor of the New-York Tribune.
• Sharkin’: To be scolded, punished, or put in one’s place. This term mimics the sharp, aggressive movements of a shark.
• Bahl Hornin’: “Good drinking!” A common toast in the valley.

The Fading Echo of a Hidden Tongue

Like many hyper-localized cultural creations, Boontling’s heyday couldn’t last forever. The isolation that allowed it to flourish began to break down after World War II. The arrival of television and radio brought standardized English into every home. The local timber and hop industries declined, changing the social fabric of the community. New people moved in, and the old-timers who were fluent “harpers” began to pass away.

Today, Boontling is critically endangered. Only a small handful of elderly speakers remain, and the lingo is no longer a living, breathing form of daily communication. It has transitioned from a practical tool into a cherished piece of local heritage.

However, the spirit of Boontling is not entirely gone. It lives on as a symbol of Anderson Valley’s unique identity. You can still see signs for the “Bahl Gorms” (good food) café or hear locals sprinkle their speech with a few classic words as a nod to their history. Books have been written to document its vocabulary, and local enthusiasts make efforts to keep its memory alive.

More Than Just Words

The story of Boontling is more than just a list of quirky words. It’s a perfect micro-experiment in linguistics, demonstrating how language is born from necessity, community, and sheer creative fun. It shows us that language isn’t just a static set of rules dictated from on high; it’s a living tool, shaped by the hands and minds of the people who use it.

Boontling is a poignant reminder of the cultural richness that can exist in small, overlooked corners of the world, and a testament to the human impulse to create a world of one’s own—even if it’s just through the words you speak.