This is what the presidents call it

The president's car has three names, here's why

Presidents seem to speak a vocabulary of their own. There’s the armored limousine known as "The Beast," the mysterious "Biscuit" tied to nuclear command, and a presidential retreat once called "Shangri-La." Even familiar terms like POTUS and the White House have stories that reach much further back than most people realize. Here are 10 presidential names, nicknames, and code words, along with the fascinating stories behind them.

The massive desk in the Oval Office may look like an ordinary piece of presidential furniture, but its history stretches back to an Arctic exploration ship.

In 1854, the British ship HMS Resolute became trapped in Arctic ice while searching for the lost expedition of Sir John Franklin. The crew eventually abandoned the vessel. A year later, an American whaling crew discovered the ship drifting in the ice, and the United States bought it, restored it, and returned it to Britain as a gesture of goodwill. When the ship was later retired, Queen Victoria had some of its oak timbers turned into an elaborate desk. In 1880, she presented it to President Rutherford B. Hayes. The desk spent years in different parts of the White House before Jacqueline Kennedy moved it into the Oval Office in 1961 for President John F. Kennedy. Several presidents later chose different desks, but the Resolute Desk eventually became one of the most recognizable pieces of furniture in the White House.

You've probably seen the president's armored limousine roll through a city on the news. Most people just call it "The Beast." But it also goes by "Cadillac One," and Secret Service radios use a third name entirely, "Stagecoach." The story behind those names starts in the sky, not on the road.

In December 1953, an Eastern Air Lines flight and a plane carrying President Eisenhower answered to the same call sign, 8610, in the same stretch of airspace. To stop that from happening again, the Air Force created a single name for any aircraft carrying the president: Air Force One. The Secret Service later applied that same idea to the limousine, giving it its own name, Stagecoach, and its own private radio handle. Two identical Cadillac Ones now travel with every motorcade, so no one outside the Secret Service knows for sure which one is real.

Today, the presidential retreat tucked into Maryland’s Catoctin Mountains is known as Camp David. But its first name sounded much more exotic.

Franklin D. Roosevelt established the mountain retreat in 1942. He called it "Shangri-La," borrowing the name from the fictional Himalayan paradise in James Hilton’s 1933 novel Lost Horizon. The name remained through the rest of Roosevelt’s presidency and into Harry Truman’s administration. When Dwight D. Eisenhower became president in 1953, however, he thought "Shangri-La" sounded a little too grand for a rustic mountain retreat. He changed the name to Camp David in honor of his father, David Eisenhower, and his young grandson, David Eisenhower. The new name was less mysterious and much more personal.

It’s hard to imagine Washington, D.C., without the White House. But for much of its history, "The White House" wasn’t actually its official name.

During the 19th century, government documents usually called the building the "Executive Mansion" or the "President’s House." Citizens, however, had already been calling it the White House for years. The nickname was a natural one. The building’s sandstone exterior had been painted and whitewashed, giving it the pale appearance that inspired the familiar name. The informal name finally became official in 1901. President Theodore Roosevelt preferred "The White House" to the rather stiff "Executive Mansion" and ordered the words placed on official stationery.

The United States Marine Band has a title that sounds almost like a family nickname: "The President’s Own." And there’s a good reason for it.

Congress created the band in 1798, but its close relationship with the White House took shape a few years later. On New Year’s Day in 1801, John Adams invited the musicians to perform inside the still-unfinished Executive Mansion. Thomas Jefferson took the relationship even further. A music lover and violinist himself, Jefferson hired the Marine Band to perform at his inauguration and gave it the affectionate title "The President’s Own." The band has been a fixture at presidential inaugurations ever since. The nickname has endured for more than two centuries, making the Marine Band one of the oldest musical traditions tied to the presidency.

Whenever the president strides across the South Lawn to offer a final wave before lifting off, the green helicopter rising against the skyline is hailed worldwide as "Marine One." But the moniker was never tied to a single helicopter.

It belongs to whichever Marine Corps aircraft, usually a VH-3D Sea King or a newer VH-92A Patriot, happens to be carrying the president that day. The rule follows the same logic that created Air Force One after that 1953 mix-up over the East Coast. Swap the helicopter for a private jet, and the call sign changes instantly to "Executive One." Air traffic controllers still use that same system today, decades after a near collision first made it necessary.

Few objects associated with the presidency have a nickname as harmless-sounding as "the biscuit." Yet the small laminated card carried by the president is connected to one of the most serious responsibilities imaginable: authorizing a nuclear strike.

The nickname dates back to the Cold War era, when nuclear launch codes were reportedly kept in sealed packets. The packaging inspired military personnel to use the nickname "SAS cookies," which eventually evolved into the more familiar "biscuit."

Every news broadcast today treats POTUS and FLOTUS as if they were always part of the language. FLOTUS is newer, but POTUS goes way back.

In the 1890s, telegraph operators had a very practical reason for shortening "President of the United States." Government agencies paid for telegrams by the letter, so trimming a long title could save time and money. The solution was simple: P-O-T-U-S. The abbreviation eventually found its way into government paperwork and Secret Service communications, where short forms were especially useful. FLOTUS, meaning "First Lady of the United States," came much later. The Secret Service adopted it as a radio shorthand during the Reagan administration in the early 1980s. What started as a way to save a few telegraph characters eventually became part of everyday political language.

"Rawhide." "Renegade." "Lancer." They sound like names from an old Western movie, but these Secret Service codenames have a very practical purpose.

The tradition grew out of a time when presidential security teams sometimes communicated over radio systems that weren’t encrypted. Saying a president’s actual name over the air could reveal information to anyone listening. A codename offered a simple layer of protection. The names also follow a family tradition. Members of a first family generally receive codenames beginning with the same letter. John F. Kennedy was "Lancer," while Jacqueline Kennedy was "Lace." And presidents don’t necessarily have their names chosen for them. The White House Communications Agency prepares lists of possible call signs, and the president can select one. So behind every memorable codename is a little bit of security planning and, sometimes, personal preference.

Air Force One gets most of the attention, but the president also needs a secure way to travel when the destination is beyond the reach of an airport runway. That’s where "Ground Force One" comes in.

The nickname was never officially created by presidential order. Instead, it emerged naturally among reporters and staff members covering presidential campaigns and road trips. It refers to heavily protected motor coaches used for presidential travel. They’re equipped with features such as secure communications systems, run-flat tires and substantial armor. Observers naturally borrowed the best-known presidential transportation nickname and adapted it for the road: Air Force One became Ground Force One.

Odd words, old meanings

These 10 idioms and phrases are still in use, but don’t always make sense

How much is a notch when it comes to volume? Who is Bob, and why is he everyone’s uncle? What is the difference between a spider web and a cobweb? Languages change with time and use, and English is no exception, but some phrases remain frozen in time, and while we still use them, we don’t always know their literal meaning. Here are 10 idioms and words that don’t make sense, but once did.

We often use the phrase "to a T" (sometimes spelled "to a tee") to indicate something done perfectly, with precision. But is it about the letter "T"? Not really. The original phrase used to be "to a tittle," with tittle being the proper name for the dot of the "i" or the "j," and it conveyed the idea of doing something accurately, down to the smallest detail. Eventually, "tittle" was shortened to "T," but the phrase had already stuck, even if its literal meaning was lost.

Although "fathom" might sound very formal, we all know that it is synonymous with "understand." But did you know that fathom is actually a nautical unit of measurement? From the Old English fæðm ("the span of the arms" or "embrace"), it represented the distance between the left and right fingertips of outstretched arms. Eventually, a "fathom" was standardized to about six feet or two yards, and was mainly used by sailors to measure water depth. It was this connection with depth that led the word to take on a figurative meaning of "getting to the bottom" of something, or understanding it thoroughly.

Popularly, we understand that a "red herring" is something meant to give false clues or distract from another pressing issue. But why a herring? Herrings turn red when smoked and also acquire a strong, pungent smell, which made them a great tool for training hunting dogs, as the smell of the fish covered the trail of the prey. As a metaphor, though, it was popularized in the early 19th century by journalist William Cobbett, who used it to describe how the press was easily swayed by false news.

If something is a "rule of thumb," it means that it’s a common guideline, usually based on experience rather than science. In its origins, this phrase was quite literal: thumbs served as a rule. Tradesmen often used the width and length of their thumbs to take and remember measurements, a system that, though practical and effective, only worked for the owner of the thumb in question. Its use as an idiom comes from 17th century writers comparing this popular method with more scientific measuring systems.

If someone asks us to "take it down a notch," how much should we lower our volume? With "notch," this idiom refers to mechanical dials, like the ones used in a radio, where the notches signal the different levels. And while radios only date back to the 20th century, the roots of this idiom go all the way back to the 17th century and to the phrase "take it down a peg," related to wooden pins used for measurements.

Is there a difference between a cobweb and a spiderweb? Although they are synonymous, most dictionaries will make the distinction that "cobweb" is particularly used for dusty, abandoned spiderwebs. But what does the "cob" part mean? "Cobweb" is derived from the Middle English coppeweb, composed of coppe ("spider") and web ("woven fabric"). If we go one step further, coppe comes from the Old English attorcoppe ("spider"), a mix of attor ("poison") and coppe ("head" or "round thing"). So, despite the slight difference in their actual use, "cobweb" and "spiderweb" mean the same thing.

It isn’t difficult to see how "breaking the ice" might have originated from people actually breaking ice, but what many ignore is that this custom (and the phrase) is rooted in diplomacy and trade. When large trade vessels were unable to advance due to frozen rivers, canals, or harbors, it was common to send people in a small boat to "break the ice" and allow the ship to continue its course. In some places, however, locals would send "icebreakers" to clear the path for a foreign vessel as a welcome and a sign of goodwill. The metaphorical use of the phrase exists in many languages, but it was first recorded in English in the 16th century.

The idea of "letting down your hair" is popularly associated with relaxing and letting formalities aside, but the phrase is rooted in an actual Medieval and Renaissance custom. Traditionally, single women would keep their hair loose and uncovered, but would pin it up once they married. It was not proper for a married woman to be seen in public with their hair down, something they would only do in the comfort of their home, foregoing elaborate hairstyles and uncomfortable pins. Eventually, loose hair lost its social status meaning, but the connection with relaxation remained.

According to historians, no one knows who Uncle Bob is, or what his connection is with simple and easily accomplished tasks, but popular folklore claims to have the answer. According to this theory, the phrase refers to British Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-Cecil (who went by Bob), appointing his nephew Arthur Balfour as Chief Secretary for Ireland, a position he was woefully unqualified for, but that was made possible because "Bob’s your uncle".

Have you ever wondered why midwives have that name? After all, there is nothing "mid" nor necessarily "wifely" in helping someone give birth. The answer takes us back to Old English, where mid meant "with" or "together with," and wif (the origin of "wife") meant "woman," "female," or "lady," and not necessarily a married female. First recorded around the year 1300, "midwife" was an accompanying person (typically a woman) who assisted mothers during labor. Although the literal meaning of the term is lost to us, the importance of the role was surely the reason this word survived through the centuries.