It’s Jim To You, So No Cracks About The Corn
A person’s name, according to ancient wisdom, is a window into one’s soul.
Those ancient wise people had plenty of screwball ideas, such as the notion that the sun is carried across the sky in a golden chariot. Today we know for a scientific fact that gold is too heavy and those chariots were made of a lighter, stronger alloy. But those ancient wise guys were onto something with this name thing. Our names define who we are, which is why it’s so important not to call ourselves either Poindexter on one hand, or Pointy on the other.
Poindexter is too formal, Pointy too casual. Most of us avoid this problem through the simple expedient of not being named Poindexter. Yet no matter what names we are given, most of us must grapple with the essential question: Should we go by our goofy trivializing nicknames, or our pretentious formal names?
The implications are severe. Take the case of James Earl Carter. James Earl Carter chose to call himself “Jimmy,” a name previously reserved for some guy who did nothing but “crack corn.”
Yet this man was the leader of the free world. No wonder the Iranians took the embassy hostage. A president named James Earl Carter might have been able to kick them out, but Jimmy Carter just had to sit in the White House and stew. The Iranians did not consider him a threat, because they were truly under the impression that he was that crackin’ corn guy.
Jimmy’s choice is especially intriguing to me, because my first two names are also James Earl. I share these names not only with James Earl Carter but also with the great actor James Earl Jones, the pathetic assassin James Earl Ray, and, of course, James Earl (Jiminy) Cricket.
Like the president, I too was once called Jimmy, but I can remember the exact day I outgrew it. I was in fifth grade, and I had just gotten a new baseball mitt. My mom was writing my name on it and, instead of Jimmy Kershner, she wrote Jim Kershner. From that day on, I was never Jimmy again.
Where was Carter’s mother when he needed her?
When I got into college and into a profession, I had to make another decision. Would I drop the familiar Jim, and opt for my full, formal name? Many people struggle with this question, but for a journalist it is especially crucial. It determines the tone of the most important, the most crucial, the most significant part of every story: the byline.
I had a number of choices: J.E. Kershner.
James Kershner.
James E. Kershner.
James Earl Kershner.
J. Earl Kershner.
The first was stiff, the second pompous, the third even more pompous, the fourth both pompous and pretentious, and the fifth pompous, pretentious and redolent of “funeral director.”
So I stayed with Jim Kershner, despite the fact that it doesn’t make me sound important. It does, however, have the advantage of being the name that people actually call me.
Only recently have I understood what a huge mistake this has been. I was reading “A Good Life,” the autobiography of the former Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee. In it, he talks about getting his first byline, “By Ben Bradlee, Post Reporter.”
While he was sitting in the newsroom admiring it, the great columnist Walter Lippmann walked by and said, “That’s a sportswriter’s byline.” And he meant it to sting.
So here I am stuck with a sportswriter’s byline, even though I write about things that are vastly more important than sports, such as toilet seat injuries. Still, whenever I feel my name isn’t dignified enough, I just have to check out the presidential candidates. We now have the prospect of a “Bill” running against a “Bob.”
America has always valued folksiness in its presidents, Honest Abe and Teddy Roosevelt being the prime examples. Yet somehow I can’t imagine Jim Polk taking on Hank Clay, or Herb Hoover taking on Frank Roosevelt. It makes them sound like - sportswriters.
At least Clinton hasn’t gone the entire Jimmy Earl Carter route and added the diminutive to the end of his name. Think about the implications. Is the country ready for its first true Billy-Bob presidential race?
To leave a message on James E. Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.
, DataTimes