Open Writing

A file recently excavated from my desk contained a 2008 NY Times article by Marion Tierney that questions the theory that giving children unusual names injures them. After mentioning his own ambiguous given name, Tierney looked at Johnny Cash's 60's hit song, "A Boy Named Sue," and noted it presents "two hypotheses: 1. A child with an awful name might grow up to be a relatively normal adult. 2. The parent who inflicted the name does not deserve to be executed."

Tierney mentioned studies showing that oddly-named children get worse grades, are less popular socially, and are "overrepresented among emotionally disturbed children and psychiatric patients." Then he cited Michael Sherrod's "Bad Baby Names" book in which adults with names like Mary Christmas, Candy Stohr, and Rasp Berry were interviewed. "They were very proud of their names," Sherrod wrote, "almost overly proud … they liked having an unusual named because it made them stand out."

Another researcher added that "Names only have an influence when that is the only thing you know about the person."

Although our library's catalog includes a variety of themed baby name books, ranging from African-American and astrology to Biblical, literary, Spanish, and the Zodiac. However, it doesn't include "Bad Baby Names" among the 57 baby name titles listed. A quick perusal of these books reveals that presently unusual spellings or sounds are in vogue. "Today it's all about individuality." Sherrod noted. "In the past, there was more of a sense of humor, probably because fathers had more say in the names." The waning influence of fathers may be why there are fewer babies being named Goblin Fester, Leper Priest, and Lotta Beers, but Sherrod says the desire, though latent, remains. "I can't tell you how often I've heard guys who wanted their kid to be able to say truthfully, 'Danger is my middle name.' But their wives absolutely refused."

The name "Red Elvis" recently garnered my interest. In 1958 the handsome, musical Dean Reed was a star athlete in Colorado who moved to L.A. to emulate Elvis, his idol. Reed's recordings flopped here but were successful in South America, so he moved there, performed to sold-out auditoriums, and started making movies, living the Elvis dream in Argentina. Reed also began speaking at political rallies against political oppression. The U.S. media noticed and dubbed him "the Red Elvis."

Right-wing governments took over in Chile and Argentina, so Reed moved to the U.S.S.R. and settled in East Germany. There his music and movies, especially westerns, remained popular, but to allay fears that he was a capitalist pig at heart, Reed publicly declaimed the virtues of Communism and attacked the U.S. Nevertheless, by 1985 Reed's star waned, and he returned to the U.S. to resurrect his career. Headway was made until a "60 Minutes" interview in 1989 when he called the Berlin Wall "a safety measure" and compared Reagan to Stalin. A furor ensued, he fled back to East Germany, and died mysteriously in a lake soon thereafter.

Red Elvis is preferable to some traditional state nicknames. The American Heritage Dictionary's word history of "hoosier," says Texans were once called "beetheads," South Carolinians "weasels," Nebraskans "bug-eaters," and, Missourians were "pukes." An Indiana University website article titled "Myths and Legends About the Origin of 'Hoosier'" says "In colonial America, the terms 'cracker' and 'hoosier' were widely used to refer to white farmers who did not own slaves or large plantations." "Hoosier" was used throughout Appalachia, and particularly in Indiana where many Appalachian pioneers settled. Some think hoosier came from settlers asking "Who's yere" when strangers knocked. James Whitcomb Riley the "Hoosier Poet," posited that brawling Indiana rivermen left the –off ripped ears of opponents on tavern floors, prompting the question, "Whose ear?"

Jacob Piatt Dunn, besides being a leading member of the Indiana Library Commission, was a leading historian and author who chaired the Indiana Historical Society around 1900, His research found that "hoozer" came from the hilly Cumberland region of Britain and meant one who lives "hoo," or "high on a hill," like the Indianians' Appalachian forebears.

Maybe my Hill ancestors were once "Hoozers." Fortunately, the Hills known to me are all lively characters, for as Robert E. Lee pointed out, "The devil's name is dullness."