Egos: Melting the Pot

One afternoon last year, a young actor named Louis Morelli walked into an office in Hollywood. When he walked out, his name was Trax Colton. No one had ever heard of him before, and no one has heard of him since. But he has at least taken his minor place in an ancient rite of Hollywood. Moreover, Morelli was restyled by one of the wizard name changers now practicing the craft—Agent Henry Willson, the man who turned Marilyn Louis into Rhonda Fleming, Francis McGowan into Rory Calhoun, Arthur Gelien into Tab Hunter, Robert Moseley into Guy Madison, and—his great mind wandering from the New Jersey Palisades to the Strait of Gibraltar—Roy Fitzgerald into Rock Hudson.

Since it is axiomatic in show business that the name is rewritten before the teeth are capped, hundreds of literary types like Willson have, over the years, flung into the air a confetti storm of phony names that have settled lightly but meaningfully on the American culture.

Sothern Lake. The largest group is the Readily Understandables. Issur Danielovitch lacks, well, euphony. So the name was shortened to Kirk Douglas. It is also understandable why Tula Ellice Finklea would want to change her name to Cyd Charisse, Frances Gumm to Judy Garland, Bernie Schwartz to Tony Curtis, Sarah Jane Fulks to Jane Wyman, Emma Motzo to Lizabeth Scott, Judith Tuvim to Judy Holliday, Doris Kappelhoff to Doris Day, Aaron Chwatt to Red Buttons, Zelma Hedrick to Kathryn Grayson, Eunice Quedens to Eve Arden, Natasha Gurdin to Natalie Wood, Barney Zanville to Dane Clark, and William Beedle to William Holden. England’s James Stewart, eclipsed by Hollywood’s James Stewart, changed his name to Stewart Granger. Frederick Bickel—rhymes with pickle—changed his name to Fredric March. Frederick Austerlitz was just too hobnailed a surname to weight the light soles of Fred Astaire. Gary Grant, of course, would have been unstoppable with any name from Pinky Fauntleroy to Adolf Hitler—even, for that matter, with his own name: Archie Leach.

But the whys start colliding with the wherefores. There is a group, for example, that could be called the Inexplicables. Why would a girl with a graceful name like Harriette Lake want to change it to Ann Sothern? John F. Sullivan could have hardly been afraid of being mistaken for John L. when he changed his name to Fred Allen. The name Edythe Marrener is at least as interesting as Susan Hayward. Why change Thelma Ford to Shirley Booth, Jeanette Morrison to Janet Leigh, Patrick Barry to Barry Sullivan, Edward Flanagan to Dennis O’Keefe, Kim Reid to Kim Stanley, Virginia McMath to Ginger Rogers, Julie Wells to Julie Andrews, Helen Beck to Sally Rand, John Hamilton to Sterling Hayden, Diane Belmont to Lucille Ball, Phyllis Isley to Jennifer Jones?

Tallyho. Actors with plain, pronounceable, American Legion sort of names yearn for toning up. Ruby Stevens is Barbara Stanwyck; Peggy Middleton is Yvonne De Carlo; Norma Jeane Baker is Marilyn Monroe. Even Gladys Smith found a little more stature in the name Mary Pickford. On the other hand, embarrassed bluebloods shed their hyphens and thus declare their essential homogeneity with the masses. Reginald Truscott-Jones was too obviously soaked in tallyho. He became Ray Milland. Spangler Arlington Brugh denuded himself of all his nominal raiment and emerged as Robert Taylor. Audrey Hepburn-Ruston amputated it neatly.

Some real names are out of character. Roy Rogers was Leonard Slye. Boris Karloff could not have frightened a soul as William Henry Pratt. Gypsy Rose Lee has done things that Rose Louise Hovick would presumably never do. Other real names seem to be struggling to express themselves. Merry Mickey Rooney was once Joe Yule Jr. Sam Goldwyn was Sam Goldfish. Shelley Winters was Shirley Schrift. Lili St. Cyr was Marie van Shaack. Diana Dors was Diana Fluck.

Charming, Chiming. Hollywood stars come from every sort of ethnic and national-origin minority group. Many of them are bitterly vocal about U.S. democracy’s failures. If enough of them had stuck by their original names, the resulting influence, through the vast popularity of the movies, would have done much to soften bias and reduce prejudice. No one would challenge their actions individually, but they could have served themselves better as a group.

Among actors of Italian and Spanish background, for example, Dino Crecetti opted to be Dean Martin, Margarita Cansino became Rita Hayworth, Anna Maria Italiano is now Anne Bancroft. Anglicizing their names, Anthony Benedetto became Tony Bennett and Giovanni de Simone became Johnny Desmond. Among Jews, Izzy Itskowitz probably needed to sandpaper that a bit; yet he stayed with a Jewish name: Eddie Cantor. But most—from Jerry Levitch (Jerry Lewis) to Nathan Birnbaum (George Burns), Emanuel Goldenberg (Edward G. Robinson), Pauline Levy (Paulette Goddard), Rosetta Jacobs (Piper Laurie), and Melvin Hesselberg (Melvyn Douglas)—have preferred the Anglo-Saxon angle.

Many actors sculpt their real names. Ethel Zimmerman clipped off the zim. Vivien Hartley lost her hart. James Baumgarner dropped the baum. Grace Stanfield is now Gracie Fields. Uncle Miltie was once Milton Berlinger. One letter made the difference for Dorothy Lambour. First names have a habit of turning into surnames. Benny Kubelsky changed his name to Jack Benny, Muni Weisenfreund to Paul Muni, Preston Meservey to Robert Preston.

Last names vanish: Arlene Francis Kazanjian, Maybritt Wilkens, Eddie Albert Heimberger. Some stars can’t stand their first names. Leslie Hope and Harry Crosby went for a solid Bob and a charming, chiming Bing.

Khan Man. Lolita Dolores Martinez Asunsolo Lopez Negrette is now Dolores Del Rio. Marion Morrison probably thought his name sounded girlish so he changed it to John Wayne. Douglas Fairbanks was really Douglas Ulman. June Allyson was Ella Geisman. Tasmania’s Estelle Merle O’Brien Thompson started her career as Queenie Thompson, outgrew that and became Merle Oberon. Yul Brynner goes around saying that his original name was Taidje Khan Jr. of northeast Asia, but he is probably Alfie Jones of Kansas City, Mo., or something like that. No one has ever been able to pin him down about his background, not even his wives.

Meanwhile, Rip Torn, that bisyllabic symbol of absurdly phony Hollywood names, is really Rip Torn. His father was Rip Torn, too.