Long Live the Moniker

By Scott Lewis

When I was working my way through university as a deckhand, my shipmates called me Loophole - partly to differentiate me from my father, who they called Louie, and partly as a term of affection and respect.  "Loophole" meant that I was the clever fellow who could conjure up a way to extricate a friend from any difficult situation or find a way to get something done.

I liked the name they gave me, at least until, during a political campaign, a newspaper editor ridiculed it in print.  Years later, that still hurts.

Personally, I think monikers add to the richness of life. Used properly, they can be descriptive, useful and fun.  They are a form of personal marketing, if you will, but a nickname is a brand you cannot give yourself.  Like the name in your passport, your moniker has to be given to you by someone else. 

Ukrainians and Russians still use nicknames - klitchka - widely.  It's one of the many little things that this expat loves about living here.  

Back in the USA, monikers saw their heydays in the 20s and 30s - long before my time.  In Damon Runyon's musical play, Guys and Dolls, almost all the gentlemen had nicknames.  That was an era when one could, believe it or not, actually know a person for years by his nickname alone, and never know his real name.  All you needed was the nickname.  Walk into a bar and ask, "Anyone seen Catfish lately?" and they'd know to whom you were referring.  Ask for Hubert Peterson…no dice. 

About the only places you see monikers used today are with mobsters, like Sammy 'The Bull" Gravano (who turned on boss John "The Dapper Don" Gotti) and Charlie "Lucky" Luciano (who built Las Vegas, then took a bullet while he watched TV at home one evening), and with sports stars.  Athletes' names tended to be friendly, like basketball's "Pistol" Pete Maravich and baseball pitcher Mark "Bird" Fidrych.  Mobster monikers weren't necessarily threatening: For every "Machine Gun" or "Scarface" there was a "Pretty Boy", a "Baby Face" and a "Fox" or "Soapy".
 
 Because mobsters like to at least look like respectable businessmen, they aren't using monikers as much anymore.  The descriptive nickname has been tainted, made to look low-class and unprofessional, for the most part.  It's a shame. 

Think of the great literary and talent agent, Irving "Swifty" Lazar (the nickname given him by Humphrey Bogart), or opera diva Beverly "Bubbles" Sills - great monikers for people who excelled in their chosen fields.

At the same time, nobody wants a chef named "Greasy" or an accountant named "Sneaky."  A good moniker is never derogatory or hurtful.  It should be worn like a military uniform, with distinction and pride.

Applying a good moniker to someone is harder than it seems.  It has to really fit the person, it must resonate with his or her personality.  It can't be derogatory, but neither can it be too cute: Your wife may call you "Snookums", but you wouldn't want the guys to do it.

Monikers generally arise from situations or personal characteristics.  We called one fellow "Beeg Fish" because that's how he described every minnow he ever pulled out of the lake.  An Irish friend was called Scar (because one drunken night, he foolishly attempted to drink tea directly from the teapot) and we all called his wife "Destiny" (as in "You are my destiny," a phrase her husband used often).  Another friend was The Postman, because he'd tell people who asked that he was a mail carrier.  That career always seemed to be a conversation-killer, and he hated talking about his real job.

Monikers, nicknames, klitchka - these are just words for the brand that others assign to us, and which can speak volumes about us as told by our friends.