Made In America - Bill Bryson [78]
Sometimes the old name was abandoned altogether to be replaced with a shiny new name with a good American ring to it, as when the Italian boxer Andrea Chiariglione became the American boxer Jim Flynn. Not infrequently, some members of a family would adapt the family name while others would stay faithful to their cultural heritage. Thus the novelist Theodore Dreiser and the song writer Paul Dresser (’On the Banks of the Wabash’) were brothers.37
For Jewish immigrants the question of an American identity had an additional dimension. For those who wished to function in the wider world – for instance in show business – a visibly Jewish name could be a handicap, so Israel Baline became Irving Berlin, Mendel Berlinger turned into Milton Berle and Nathan Birnbaum took to the stage as George Burns. This was hardly a new problem for Jews. Mencken quotes a tale from Samuel Pepys’s diary about a Dr Levy who had petitioned a court to let him change his name to Sullivan and then a month later sought permission to change it again to Kilpatrick. ‘On request for ye reason, he telleth ye court that ye patients continually ask of him, “What was your name before?” If granted ye change, he shall then tell them “Sullivan”.‘38 Often, Jews had no particular attachment to their surnames. Those from Austria and parts of Germany had been compelled to adopt German surnames only sixty or seventy years before. Often the names imposed on them had been unattractive to begin with, as with Geldwässer (’gold water’), a venerable euphemism for urine, Wanzenknicker (’louse picker’) and Eselkopf (’ass’s head’), and they were only too glad to shed them.
Pronunciations were adapted too to conform to American patterns, especially among Italians with names like Capone and Stallone, where the final vowel, always voiced in Italy, often became silent in America. This happened with English names as well, so that Cecil, Purcell, Maurice and Barnett became in America ‘seesil’, ‘pur-sell, ’mo-reece’ and ‘bar-nett’.
Despite the manifold pressures to conform, and the incontestable convenience that came with adopting a simple American name, millions stuck loyally to whatever monicker fate and geography had brought them. A glance through the index of a book on the history of American football, which I happen to have before me, throws up such uncompromisingly un-American names as Dick Modjelewski, Ed Abbatticchio, Knute Rockne, Bronsilaw ‘Bronko’ Nagurski, Fred Benirschke, Harry Stuhldreder, Zeke Bratkowski, W. W. Heffelfinger, Jim Kiick, Dan Pasquariello and Alex Wojchiechowicz, and virtually any other list of Americans (except for Presidents and film stars) would show equal ethnic diversity. Indeed, there is a growing tendency to resurrect old family names, as with the actor Emilio Estevez, the son of the actor Martin Sheen (n