Mel Taub, the legendary creator of The New York Times’ beloved Puns and Anagrams puzzles, passed away on September 14th at his home in Austin, Texas. He was 97 years old, leaving behind a legacy of ingenious wordplay and countless “groan-inducing” puns that delighted generations of readers.
His son, Daniel, shared the news of his passing.
Known as “PandAs” among enthusiasts, Puns and Anagrams puzzles are a unique variety. While often viewed as a lighter alternative to the complex British cryptic crossword, they served as a delightful “palate cleanser” for many. Though some serious “cruciverbalists” might have considered them simple, PandAs garnered a dedicated following among those who appreciated truly awful puns and the satisfying “aha!” moment of uncovering a clever anagram.
Deb Amlen, the chief columnist for The Times’s Wordplay section, affectionately dubbed Mr. Taub “the king of the groaners in our puzzle family.” She noted that “His puzzles were designed to put a smile on your face,” a testament to his lighthearted approach.
To get a taste of Mr. Taub’s wit, here’s one of his creations from 2017:
[Interactive Puzzle: A Mel Taub Puns and Anagrams crossword from 2017 would be displayed here.]
Among Taub’s many brilliant creations, one memorable clue from August 21, 2011, asked for “Offspring of many fodders.” The ingenious answer: DODDERS – a type of vine, as detailed by Merriam-Webster.
Another classic ‘groaner’ from May 21, 2017, posed the riddle: “Male or female, in Boston.” The solution? AGENDA. A truly cringeworthy, yet brilliant, play on the Boston accent, turning ‘gender’ into ‘agenda’!
Outside of his career as an underwriter for the Guardian Life Insurance Company of America, Mr. Taub dedicated his nights and weekends to his true passion. From his family’s Brooklyn dining room table, he meticulously crafted his puzzles, each one taking roughly eight hours and featuring an average of ten puns.
In a 1982 interview with The Four Star Puzzler magazine, he revealed his unique starting point for each creation: a pun he’d never used before, followed by a simple ‘And then I pray.’ The magazine noted his rapid-fire delivery, reminiscent of his comedic heroes Henny Youngman and Rodney Dangerfield, which undoubtedly shaped his distinctive, pun-laden humor.
Another classic example he shared was the clue: “Salad ingredient on the Titanic.” The answer, of course, was ICEBERG.
He explained to The Puzzler that “Each definition is a word game in itself.” He particularly enjoyed clues where the anagram’s letters flowed perfectly into the definition, citing ‘He doesn’t have an end seat’ for STANDEE as a prime example.
Amusingly, many readers discovered that ‘Mel Taub’ is an anagram for ‘mutable,’ a remarkably fitting description of his evolving, word-bending craft. Less delighted, perhaps, were frustrated solvers who might have preferred the anagram ‘bum tale’!
The Puns and Anagrams puzzle made its debut in The Times’s Sunday magazine on February 15, 1942, appearing alongside the newspaper’s very first crossword. It was initially titled “Riddle Me This” and credited to ‘Anna Gram,’ a name believed by Will Shortz, The Times’s long-standing puzzle editor, to be a clever pseudonym for the paper’s inaugural puzzle editor, Margaret Farrar.
At 26, Mr. Taub faced a challenge: it took him three attempts to get his work published in the esteemed newspaper, with his initial submissions being traditional crosswords.
His first rejection letter from Ms. Farrar read, “This is an interesting puzzle, and I foresee you will land in the puzzle corner. I don’t take to the crossing of djo and oont.” She was referring to ‘djo,’ a Japanese unit of measurement, and ‘oont,’ an Indian camel, which were answers in his submission.
Despite the rejection, she encouraged him: “I hope you’ll come again. We pay $10 for the dailies.”
His second puzzle was also rejected, due to Ms. Farrar’s dislike of what she deemed ‘contrived abbreviations,’ such as “diph” for diphthong. Perseverance paid off with his third submission, published on October 24, 1954. The following May, his inaugural Puns and Anagrams puzzle graced the pages, earning him $15.
Beyond PandAs, he also crafted double-crostics, which were compiled into several books, though these weren’t featured in The Times. He continued to contribute occasional traditional and even cryptic crosswords to the newspaper.
On January 17, 1993, his puzzle ‘Hail to the Chief’ appeared in The New York Times Magazine, a tribute to the incoming president, William Jefferson Clinton. Remarkably, just three days before his inauguration, Mr. Clinton returned the puzzle fully completed in pen, with a personal note expressing his enjoyment ‘in between spurts of speech writing.’
A notable clue from that puzzle: “The White House is her Everest.” The answer: HILLARY.
Melvin Seymour Taub was born in Brooklyn on September 4, 1928, the youngest of four children to David and Esther (Schwartz) Taub. His father, David, initially worked as a part-time bootlegger during Prohibition, crafting slivovitz, a fruit brandy, before becoming employed in a luggage factory.
After studying English at Brooklyn College with aspirations of becoming a comedy writer, Mel transitioned into the insurance industry when his initial dream didn’t materialize. He retired, as his son Daniel precisely recalled, at ‘63.5 years of age,’ a detail that speaks volumes about his meticulous nature. In 1959, Mr. Taub married Phyllis Spinrad, an administrator at Brooklyn College.
He is survived by his sons, Daniel and Dave, and one grandson. His wife, Phyllis, herself a contributor of two daily crosswords to The Times, passed away in 2023.
While Puns and Anagrams puzzles continue to appear bimonthly in The Times Magazine, they are no longer published online. However, many of Mr. Taub’s ingenious creations, numbering around a hundred, are preserved in a digital archive for puzzle aficionados.
Mr. Taub estimated he contributed between 350 and 400 PandAs to The Times during his career, with his final puzzle appearing on October 20, 2019.
As his wife, Phyllis, aptly put it to The Four Star Puzzler in 1982: “He doesn’t just play with words. He preys on them.”