Denis Legend? Now I like the sound of that!
SINGER, songwriter, actor, and philanthropist John Legend is an all-round superstar with a name to match. Except that is not his real name. He was born John Roger Stephens and changed it when he started a musical career that has made him, well, a legend.
It made me wonder whether a name change might have boosted my career. As a journalist I always fancied John Pilger but that had already been taken by a brilliant award winning reporter. As a writer I’ve had books published under five pseudonyms as well as my own, but none brought the Nobel Prize for Literature or topped the Times best seller list. Perhaps I would have had better luck as Ian Fleming, but that had already been taken, as well.
Names can make a difference and separate the Smythe-Fortescues from the plain Smith or Brown. Show business has had such royalty as Prince and Duke Ellington, although Sid Vicious took it to extremes. Donald Trump has called his youngest Baron and I’m only surprised he hasn’t changed his own to Mister President.
Celebrities have been known to give their offspring the most bizarre names, but I was interested in those that suggested greatness: they may not necessarily ensure greatness but at least they have a head start on being noticed. Strange names that reflect the aspirations of parents are not new. The baptismal lists were full of Faith, Hope and Charity in Victorian times.
Others included Hector, Ulysses, Balthazar, Bishop, Dante, Justice, Achilles, Pharaoh, Ptolemy and Hamlet. (Pause for breath). Plus Boudicea, Cleopatra, Prudent, Serenity, Hero, Valor, Temperance, Noble. Pandora and Sage but, happily, no onions.
Among odd ones, but true, from the 19th century, were Friendless Baxter from Leeds, and Leicester Railway Cope, whose mother Ann Cope gave birth in a railway carriage in the station. A sense of humour was occasionally displayed. Mr and Mrs Day named their son Time Of, Mr and Mrs Lynes chose Zebra for their boy, Mr and Mrs Castle named their daughter Windsor, and Mr and Mrs Waters opted to call their daughter Mineral.
Sadly, Robert and Martha Gouldstone showed their familial frustration in 1870 by naming their latest arrival One Too Many.
I wonder what I might have achieved if I’d changed my name many years ago to Sir Denis Kilcommons or perhaps gone a little French with Denis de Magnificent? I suspect the only way I would have become a legend, other than in my own lunchtime, would have been changing my name to Denis Legend. Now that has a ring to it. Shame it’s been taken.