Of American-English origin, the alliterative phrase Nervous Nellie, also Nervous Nelly, designates an overly timid, cautious or fearful person.
This phrase occurs, for example, in the following from an article about the Toronto Maple Leafs, an ice-hockey team, and their coach, Sheldon Keefe—article by Lance Hornby, published in the National Post (Toronto, Ontario, Canada) of Tuesday 21st November 2023 [Vol. 26, No. 22, page A12, column 5]:
Toronto’s fan base being their Nervous Nellie selves will still require lots of convincing that Keefe and the Leafs are on the right track.
—Cf. also the British-English phrase big girl’s blouse, which designates a man regarded as weak, cowardly or oversensitive.
In the texts containing the earliest occurrences of Nervous Nellie, also Nervous Nelly, that I have found, this phrase was used of the U.S. lawyer and politician Frank Billings Kellogg (1856-1937)—these early occurrences are as follows, in chronological order:
1-: From The Mirrors of Washington: A Study of Herbert Clark Hoover, Secretary of Commerce—“He Is No Politician; He Thinks as Business Men Think; His Interests Are Their Interests.”, published in The Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan, USA) of Sunday 4th December 1921 [Vol. 87, No. 68; Magazine Section: page 3, column 2]:
Indecision in politics is common enough among men who are strong and able in other activities. Mr. Taft was a great judge but wrecked his administration as president by inability to make up his mind. Senator Kellogg was a brilliantly successful lawyer; but in public life he is so hesitant that Minnesota politicians speak of him as “Nervous Nelly,” and even Mr. Taft, during the Treaty fight, rebuked him to his face for lack of courage.
2-: From the St. Louis Post-Dispatch (St. Louis, Missouri, USA) of Friday 13th January 1922 [Vol. 74, No. 131, page 23, column 2]:
The Senate environment has softened the fiber of many a man who started out with a brave show of independence. There is Kellogg, for example. He was famous once as a trust-buster; his colleagues now call him “Nervous Nelly.”
3-: From The Sun (Baltimore, Maryland, USA) of Saturday 27th October 1923 [Vol. 173, No. 141 D, page 1, column 1]:
[From The Sun Bureau.]
Washington, Oct. 26.—A “mild reservationist,” friend of the League of Nations and a supporter of the world court will succeed an irreconcilable at the most important ambassadorial post in Europe by the anticipated appointment of Frank B. Kellogg, of Minnesota, former Senator, to succeed George Harvey at London.
[…]
From Mr. Harvey to Mr. Kellogg is a change in the diplomatic service from one type to another as far apart as the North Pole from the South, observers here agree.
The retiring Ambassador was famed for boldness, outspoken independence of thought and positive views on everybody and everything. Mr. Kellogg is of the type of extreme caution, and it used to be said that any Kellogg speech in the Senate consisted of three parts, the first part on one side of the question under discussion, the second part on the other side, and the third part a judicial summing up.
[…]
Every Senator has a nickname, after he has been in Washington any length of time, and that by which Senator Kellogg was known in the privacy of the Capitol corridors and in all the official by paths derived from real or fancied traits in Senatorial character was “Nervous Nellie.”
4-: From The Evening Sun (Baltimore, Maryland, USA) of Saturday 27th October 1923 [Vol. 28, No. 8, page 6, column 1]:
“Nervous Nellie.”
What the puzzled Britishers will think when they see our new Ambassador to the Court of St. James, if he is to be considered the type and representative of the dirt farmers of the boundless and booming West, we shudder to imagine. Intimations have been coming from the Capital that the London post had been occupied too long by overcultured highbrows from the effete East, and the gullible public rushed to the conclusion that the President had decided to send in place of the vitriolic Harvey a shirt-sleeves diplomat from the brawn and sinew of the broad prairies, a real he-man American. Some even believed that at last the British would have to contend with a regular hell-roaring “progressive,” who could put “furriners” in their places, and that the gayety of nations would be increased.
And now the man named is “Nervous Nellie” Kellogg, noted for his legal learning and ability, his extreme caution and his amiable disposition. He is not even a farmer, nor a “progressive,” nor a reformer, nor even a Ku Kluxer, but rather an erudite, cultured lawyer, about as close to the Magnus * type as would be an orchid growing in a field of rutabagas.
* This refers to Magnus Johnson (1871-1936), U.S. Senator from Minnesota from 1923 to 1925.
The earliest occurrences that I have found of the phrase Nervous Nellie, also Nervous Nelly, used as a generic appellation—or, at least, applied to other people than Frank B. Kellogg—are as follows, in chronological order:
1-: From the Evening World-Herald (Omaha, Nebraska, USA) of Monday 29th October 1923 [Vol. 39, No. 55, page 10, column 2]—in this text, the second occurrence of nervous Nellie seems to show the transition to the generic use of the phrase:
“Nervous Nellie” Wins.
Having refused to heed the World-Herald’s advice to appoint John Lee Webster ambassador to Great Britain, President Coolidge is in for trouble. Rather than name Mr. Webster he chose a lame duck, former Senator Kellogg of Minnesota […].
[…]
We go down in defeat with our flag nailed to the mast. Our candidate bore an unsullied ’scutcheon. He would have been no nervous Nellie in talking to a king.
2-: From one of the unconnected paragraphs making up the humoristic column Twilight Thinks, published in The Pittsburgh Press (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA) of Thursday 15th May 1924 [page 14, column 7]—in this text, the precise acceptation of Nervous Nellie is unclear:
Nervous Nellie is worried about [missing word] new street car agreement. The company agrees to buy one-half of a [missing word or syllable?] form for each man, and she is worrying about which half it will be.
3-: From The Evening Sun (Baltimore, Maryland, USA) of Friday 16th January 1925 [Vol. 30, No. 77, page 25, column 2]—in this text, the phrase Nervous Nellie is used punningly in reference to Nellie Davis Ross (née Tayloe – 1876-1977), Governor of Wyoming from 1925 to 1927:
No Nervous Nellie, She.
Gov. Nellie Tayloe Ross is courageous. In an era of agricultural ascendancy, when farmers of the land are “sitting pretty” in the National Congress and in the State Legislatures, with strongly organized blocs jealously guarding their interests, she demands that taxation in Wyoming be equalized. And she makes it reasonably clear that she means the farmers must share equally with industry and urban populations the expenses of maintaining State government.
4-: From two of the unconnected paragraphs making up the column The Periscope, published in The Waco News-Tribune (Waco, Texas, USA) of Tuesday 3rd February 1925 [Vol. 29, No. 129, page 4, columns 6 & 7]—in this text, the precise acceptation of Nervous Nellie is unclear:
Nervous Nellie wasn’t able to get up before 11 o’clock any time last week, on account of being in a rundown condition. But Monday morning she was up for breakfast and gone to town by 8 o’clock. At noon, her folks got word that she was in the county courtroom, and wouldn’t be home for lunch.
[…]
We used to watch Nervous Nellie’s Mexican hairless pup unburying bones, and thought he was the world’s fastest worker with his paws. But that was before we saw Paul Whiteman’s hairy pianist pawing the ivory.
5-: From one of the unconnected paragraphs making up the column The Periscope, published in The Waco News-Tribune (Waco, Texas, USA) of Wednesday 11th February 1925 [Vol. 29, No. 137, page 4, column 6]—in this text, the precise acceptation of Nervous Nellie is unclear:
Nervous Nellie says it’s no trouble at all getting a good operatic vibrato in her bathtub vocal practice these chilly mornings.
6-: From Spectral Colors Play on Old Camp, by Harold Waldo, published in the Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California, USA) of Sunday 5th April 1925 [Vol. 102, No. 95; Sunday Magazine: page 3, column 1]—the following is about Donald McCune, the Depot-Master of Dutch Flat, in Placer County, California—in this text, the phrase Nervous Nellie is used generically:
To see Donald grapple with the problem of fussy summer ladies is an education in old-school rigor. One of these La-de-da creatures stepped from the train on a summer’s day in ’22, and demanded of McCune that he mobilize the bus for “Linger Long” at once. McCune pointed out to her a lop-eared Ford tethered under the cottonwoods, the mere sight of which fluttered the lady dreadfully. “But,” she said, in a spasm of abhorrence, “is there no other conveyance to Lingah Long? Is that really all that you can furnish? Dear me—I cannot ride in such a dissipated old thing?” She was working herself up to further language when McCune put in sharply: “Tut-tut! Lady—none of that!”
And such is the force of McCune’s rugged diplomacy that the lady subsided at once and meekly proceeded to the Ford “conveyance.” Well, it stands to reason that the Depot-Master of Dutch Flat can’t be hampered “on his Lawful Occasions”—as Kipling and the Service put it—by any Nervous Nellie from the city. For when he is busy McCune is very busy.
7-: From a letter, by a person signing themself ‘Lego’, published in The Berkshire Evening Eagle (Pittsfield, Massachusetts, USA) of Saturday 19th September 1925 [Vol. 33, No. 97, page 8, column 6]—in this text, the phrase Nervous Nellie is used generically:
“NERVOUS NELLIES”
To the Editor of THE EAGLE:—
Are we a nation of Nervious [sic] Nellies? Are we afraid of our own shadows? Do we tremble in the fact of discussion? Do we welcome no ideas except our own? Is our boasted courage only a pallid imitation after all?
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