By the time the tray became a flat, revolving disc (circa the 1910s-1930s), the adjective “lazy” had stuck. It implies the user is lazy for not reaching, or the servant is lazy because the tray replaces them. This is where history gets hazy. If the “lazy” part makes logical sense, the “Susan” part is a ghost story. There is no definitive historical record of a specific woman named Susan who invented or inspired this device.
A folksy legend claims a wealthy man invented the tray for his daughter, Susan, who was notorious for refusing to pass the peas. She would complain that reaching across the table disturbed her meal. Her father, fed up, built a spinning wheel so she wouldn’t have to lift a finger. He called it “Lazy Susan” to tease her. It’s a charming story, but likely apocryphal. lazy susan etymology
Theories abound, but three are the most popular: By the time the tray became a flat,
For a device that works so hard to eliminate reaching, stretching, and spilled wine, the name seems almost insulting. Let’s spin the wheel of etymology and find out how this rotating tray got its guilty name. First, let’s address the insult. The word “lazy” didn’t start with the spinning tray. In the early 18th century, “lazy” was attached to a few other household items. If the “lazy” part makes logical sense, the
So next time you give that platter of dumplings a spin, raise a glass to Susan. She’s not lazy. She’s the hardest working spinner at the table. She just doesn’t like to pass the potatoes.
Today, the Lazy Susan is a global citizen. In China, it’s essential for banquets. In Japan, it’s a chabitsu . In England, some still call it a dumbwaiter (confusingly, since that’s also a food lift). Let’s give Susan her due. The Lazy Susan is not lazy; it is efficient . It promotes sharing. It prevents the "sauce graveyard" at the far end of the table.