Even when no accent betrays it, the foreign diphthong is under hard pressure. Thus the German oe disappears and Loeb is changed to Lobe or Laib, Oehler to Ohler, Loeser to Leser, Schoen to Schon or Shane, and Mueller to Miller or Muller, as in Whittier’s “Maud Muller” (1866). The k in German words beginning with kn tends to disappear: they are assimilated with the old Devonshire surname, Knapp. Thus Knoebel is often pronounced Noble. In the same way the German sch shrinks to s, and Schneider becomes Snyder, Schlegel becomes Slagel, and Schluter becomes Sluter. If a German or other foreigner in America clings to the original spelling of his name he must usually expect to hear it mispronounced. Roth, in America, quickly becomes Rawth, Ranft is pronounced Ranf; Frémont, losing both accent and the French e, becomes Fremont; Blum begins to rhyme with dumb; Mann rhymes with van, and Lang with hang; Krantz, Lantz and their cognates with chance; Kurtz with shirts; the first syllable of Gutmann with but; the first of Kahler with bay; the first of Werner with turn; the first of Wagner with nag. Uhler, in America, is always Youler. Berg loses its German e-sound for an English u-sound, and its German hard g for an English g; it becomes identical with the berg of iceberg. The same change in the vowel occurs in Erdmann. In König the German diphthong succumbs to a long o, and the hard g becomes k; the common pronunciation is Cone-ik. Often, in Berger, the g becomes soft, and the name rhymes with verger. It becomes soft, too, in Bittinger. In Anheuser the eu changes to ow or ei. The final e, important in German, is nearly always silenced; Dohme rhymes with foam; Kühne becomes Keen. In the collectanea of Judge J. C. Ruppenthal, of Russell, Kansas, a very careful observer, are many curious specimens. He finds Viereck transformed into Fearhake, Vogelgesang into Fogelsong, Pfannenstiel into Fanestil, Pfüger into Phlegar, Pfeil into Feil, and Steinmetz into Stimits. I have myself encountered lsennock for Eisenach, and Duttera, Dutterer, Dotterer and Dutrow (all in one family!) for Dötterer.19
In addition to these transliterations there are constant translations of foreign proper names. “Many a Pennsylvania Carpenter,” says Dr. S. Grant Oliphant, “bearing a surname that is English, from the French, from the Latin, and there a Celtic loan-word in origin, is neither English, nor French, nor Latin, nor Celt, but an original German Zimmermann.”20 A great many other such translations are under everyday observation. Pfund becomes Pound; Becker, Baker; Schumacher, Shoemaker; König, King; Koch, Cook;21 Newmann, Newman; Schaefer, Shepherd or Sheppard; Meister, Master(s); Schwartz, Black; Weiss, White; Kurtz, Short; Weber, Weaver; Bucher, Booker; Vogelgesang, Birdsong; Sonntag, Sunday.22 and so on. It is not unusual for some members of a family to translate the patronymic while others leave it unchanged. Thus, in Pennsylvania (and no doubt elsewhere) there are Carpenters and Zimmermans of the same blood. Partial translations are also encountered, e.g., Stude-baker from Studebecker, and Reindollar from Rheinthaler, and radical shortenings, e.g., Swiler from Lebenschweiler, Kirk from Kirkes-lager, and Castle (somewhat fantastically) from Katzenellenbogen. The same processes show themselves in the changes undergone by the names of the newer immigrants. The Hollanders in Michigan often have to submit to translations of their surnames. Thus Hoog-steen becomes Highstone; Roos, Rose; Veldhuis, Fieldhouse; Huis-man, Houseman; Prins, Prince; Kuiper, Cooper; Zwartefoote, Black-foot; Zilvernagel, Silvernail; Bredevelt, Brookfreed; Wagenaar, Wagner; Dÿkhuis, Dykehouse; Koning, King; Werkman, Workman; Nieuwhuis, Newhouse; and Christiaanse, Christians.23; Similarly the Greek Triantafyllou (signifying rose) is often turned into Rose, Mylonas becomes Miller, and Giannopoulos (the descendant of Gi-annis, or loannis) becomes Johnson. The Greek surnames are often very long, and in American they have to be shortened. Thus, “Pappadakis, Pappachristides and Pappadimitracoupoulos,” says Mr. So-tirios S. Lontos, editor of Atlantis, the Greek daily of New York, “become Pappas by taking a portion of the front part of the name, while Panagiotopoulos, Constantinopoulos and Gerasimopoulos change into Poulos by adopting only the tail end. So the Pappases and Pouloses have naturally become the Smiths and Browns of American Greeks, although these names are fairly uncommon in their native land.”24 But Pappas itself is sometimes sacrificed, despite its general popularity. Thus Pappageorgiou is shaved down to Georgious, Pappadimitracoupoulos becomes Jameson (part clipping and part translation), and Pappapolychronopoulos becomes Chronos, with Poulos following Pappas into the discard.25 Other Greek names are changed to bring them into harmony with American analogues. Thus Christides becomes Christie, Nikolaou becomes Nicholas, and Georgiou becomes George. John Cameron, a train-robber sentenced to Leavenworth for twenty-seven years on December 29, 1926, was born Kamariotis. On April 5, 1935, a Greek living in Pontiac, Mich., broke into the news by reason of his name. It was Glasfkos Pappa-theodorokomoundoronicolucopoulos, and his eight children, it appeared, favored changing the surname to Pappas. “There are many Pappases and many Copouloses,” he said to a Pontiac Daily Press reporter, “and I would like my children to keep the name as it really is. But,” with an expressive shrug of the shoulders, “I guess I’ll have a tough time making them do it.”26
The Slav immigrants to America brought with them names even more difficult to American tongues than those of the Greeks, and they had to make changes following all the usual patterns. Among the Czechs these include more or less crude transliterations, e.g., of ZděnЎ into Stenny, Hřebec into Hurbick, and Cerviček into Servisk; translations, e.g., of Kovář into Smith, Holič into Barber, Mlynář into Miller, Vlk into Wolf, and Zelény into Green; and efforts to bring untranslatable names into harmony with English names of similar sound, e.g., Macá becomes Macy, Mosnička becomes Mason, Kutiš becomes Curtis, and Vališ becomes Wallace. Some of the Czech immigrants, put down as Austrians in the earlier immigration returns, settled among Germans, and in consequence not a few of them adopted German names, often by translation. Thus Krejčí (tailor) became Schneider, Dvořák (courtier) became Hoffman, and Svec (shoemaker) became Schumacher.27 A family named Matoušek changed its name to Matuscheck to accommodate German spelling, then modified it to Mathushek, and finally translated it into the English Matthews. Some of the Czechs also changed their names to Irish forms. Thus Prujín became Brian and then O’Brien, and Otřáska became O’Tracy. “Among freak aliases,” says Monsignor J. B. Dudek, the leading authority on the Czech language in America, “O’Hare for Zajíc (rabbit), O’Shaunnessy for Očenášek (dim. ‘Our Father,’ used as a common term for the Lord’s Prayer), McLoud for Mráček (a small cloud), and Casey, for which a Mr. Sýr (cheese) let pass a contemplated German Kase, will about tie for second honors. The first prize goes without question to one Záchod (originally, a bypath; then euphemistically, and now exclusively, the châlet de nécessité), who fondly imagined that a German Backhaus would escape the American interpretation, back-house. It did not; and a rapid translation to Bakehouse failed utterly to remove certain first impressions.” Public opinion among the older Czechs was violently opposed to this abandonment of Czech patronymics, but it had to yield to natural forces. Says Monsignor Dudek:
The farmers of a certain county refused to patronize a banker who had assumed Newer in place of Novák. (Newman, a better translation, is now more commonly substituted for this name.) A storm of protest arose when a Nebraska politician, Lapáček, announced himself a La Pache, and a Votruba who translated his name to Bran was thereafter in disrepute.… In spite, however, of indignation meetings, lodge resolutions and the newspaper jibes and denunciations provoked by the turncoats, a voluntary de-Bohemianization was constantly in progress, to which the younger set of Czech-Americans, surreptitiously at least, lent hearty encouragement. Removal to another, especially a purely American, community, attainment of majority, engagement in a new occupation, entrance into connubial felicity, and the like were seized as occasions for shaking off cognominal impedimenta.28
Even when a Czech clings to the original form of his patronymic, he must bear with its mutilation at the hands of his neighbors. Such forms as Hořčička, Ranhojič, Trpaslik and Uprchl, says Monsignor Dudek, “are, whi
le they last, the despair of rural editors and printers, of postmasters, small-town bankers, county clerks, justices of the peace and other officials, and simply through repeated misspelling, misreading and mispronunciation by these worthies, the first steps toward their de-Bohemianization are taken.” The Czech accents disappear almost at once, and the values of the Czech letters are quickly changed.
Hanska, Kouba, Kuba, Macá, Suva and others ending in a continue to be so written, but the owners succumb readily enough to pronunciations affected by their American neighbors — Kobey, Koobie, Cuby, Kewpie, Macey, Soovy, and the like. Similarly, Myška (or Myšička) is known as Mitchky, and one, at least, wrote it Mitschka; Jedlička condescends to be known as Jedlicker or Shedlicker, Skála as Scaler, Źaba as Jobber or Chopper, and Hobza, wearying at length of being called Hubsy, adopts Hobbs or even Hobbes of his own accord.29
Among the Poles, as among the Czechs, the older immigrants regard abandonment of the native surnames with aversion, but it goes on wholesale, and in all the usual ways. By translation Krawiec becomes Taylor, Kowalczyk becomes Smith, Tomaszewski becomes Thompson, Mielnik becomes Miller, and Kucharz becomes Cook; by transliteration Jaroscz is converted into Jerris, and Waitr into Waiter; by shortening Filipowicz changes to Philip or Phillips, Winiarecki to Winar, and Pietruszka to Pietrus; and by various combinations of these devices Siminowicz changes to Simmons, Bart-oszewicz to Barton, and Chmielewski (chmiel = hops) to Hopson and then to Hobson.30 Many a poor Pole, despairing of making anything feasible to Americans out of his surname, abandons it for some quite unrelated English name, or elevates a given name to its place. The example of Josef Konrad Korzienowski will be recalled; he became Joseph Conrad in England, and made the name one that will be long remembered. The Polish suffixes, -ewski, -owicz and so on, are fast succumbing to linguistic pressure in this country, and it seems likely that after a few generations most of them will be gone. The Russian, Bulgarian and Serbian names are subject to the same attrition. They suffer, in addition, from the fact that the transliteration of the Cyrillic alphabet presents difficulties that have yet to be solved. Does -owski, -ovski or -offski come nearest the Russian original? This is a problem that confronts many a Russian.31 All of these Slavs follow the examples of the Czechs and Poles in changing their names in this country. Of the Yugo- or South-Slavs, Louis Adamic, the well-known Yugoslav-American writer and publicist, says:
Often they choose Anglo-Saxon names, or what appear to them to be Anglo-Saxon names, whose sound or spelling or both resemble the original Yugoslav patronymics. Thus Onlak becomes O’Black; Miklavec or Milavič, McClautz; Ogrin, O’Green; Crečk, Church; Jakša or Jakšič, Jackson; Bizjak, Busyjack; Oven, Owens; and Stritar, Streeter. Not infrequently they translate their names into literal or near-literal English equivalents; for instance, Cerne into Black, Belko or Belič into White, or Podlesnik into Underwood.32
All the Slavs differentiate between the masculine and feminine forms of surnames. Thus the son of the famous actress, Helena Modjeska, became Ralph Modjeski, and as such attained to fame of his own as an engineer.33 But in this country the feminine form disappears.34 Perhaps the American gypsies should be included among the Slavs, for many of them, though they are largely of Rumanian blood, bear Slav surnames. For example, Joe Adams, long celebrated as the King of the Gypsies, was really Ioano Adamovič. Most gypsies have two names — the nav romanes, which is used among themselves and is formed by adding the father’s given-name to the given-name of the son or daughter, and the nav gajikanes, which is an American-sounding name for general use. The numerous Mitchells among them all descend from a patriarch named MiXail.35
The Scandinavians have had to make almost as many changes in their surnames as the Slavs, and for much the same reasons. This is especially true of the Swedes. “A number of characteristic Swedish sounds, particularly ö and sj,” says Roy W. Swanson,36 “are almost impossible to the Anglo-Saxon vocal organs. Thus Sjörgren, that common name in which these obstacles occur, is variously written Shogren, Schugren, Segren or Seagren.” Mr. Swanson continues:
The fate of the ö in America is decided in divers ways: the umlaut is omitted, which is the most usual change (Grondahl, Stromberg, Lonnquist, Mork, Soderstrom, etc.); or the name is translated (Grön becomes Green); or there is an attempt by the learned few to perpetuate the ö-sound by resorting to French phonetics (Huerlin, Leuvenmark)…. With the other two umlauted vowels, ä and å, the attempts to preserve the original sound are more successful. Thus å is replaced by o or oh, so that names like Åman and Åslund become Ohman and Ohslund, Spångberg becomes Spongberg, Åker-berg becomes Okerberg, etc.… [and] the English e seems to replace very satisfactorily the Swedish ä, [so that] Ånberg becomes Engberg; Sällström, Sellstrom; Slättengren, Slettengren, etc.
Certain combinations of letters in Swedish, e.g., bj, hj, ki and lilj, quickly succumb to Americanization. Thus, one Esbjörn enrolled in the Federal Army during the Civil War as Esbyorn and was mustered out as Osborn. Says Mr. Swanson:
The native American persists in giving the hj sound a j instead of a y pronunciation. The Hjelms seem to get round the difficulty by universally dropping the j, and becoming Helms. In Swedish it is the h which is silent. The Hjorts find an acceptable English translation in Hart. Kilberg, Kind-bloom, Kindlund, Kilström, Kindberg, Kjellstrand, Kjellman, Kilgren receive phonetic changes in Chilberg, Chindbloom, Chinlund, Cilstrom, Chinberg, Chilstrand, Challman, Chilgren and Gillgren. This change seems to be universal. In fact, the Minneapolis telephone directory has less than ten Swedish-American names in the original ki-. Liljedahl, Liljegren, Liljeqvist often translate the first part: Lilydahl, Lilygren, Lilyquist, or in some other way remove the embarrassment of the lj combination: Liliecrona, Lillquist.
In other cases lj is got rid of by bolder devices, as when Ljung (signifying heather) is turned into Young, Ljungdahl into Young-dahl, and so on. Other attempts at transliteration are numerous. Thus -qvist and -kvist become -quist or -quest; -gren (a bough) becomes green or grain, as in Holmgrain and Youngreen; -blad (a leaf) becomes blade, as in Cedarblade; and bo- (an inhabitant) is turned into bow, as in Bowman from Boman. Direct translations are also frequent, e.g., of Nygren into Newbranch, Sjöstrand into Seashore and Högfelt into Highfield. Sometimes the spelling of a name is changed to preserve the Swedish pronunciation, as when Ros becomes Roos, Strid becomes Streed, and Andrén becomes Andreen. “The -een termination,” says Mr. Swanson, “seems to be very popular among the Swedes in America, and is sometimes carried even into the -son names, e.g., Olseen for Olson.” Nearly all these changes are in what the Swedes call borgerliganamn, i.e., names of the plain people. The prästnamn (priest-names), all of which end with either -us or -ander, are changed less often, partly because their bearers are very proud of them, and partly because they usually present less difficulty to Americans. The adelsnamn (aristocratic names) are cherished even more jealously, but they are naturally not numerous. When Archbishop Nathan Söderblom visited the Swedish marches of the Middle West in 1923 he made an eloquent plea for the preservation of Swedish patronymics, but it seems to have had little effect. Many well-known Swedish-Americans bear changed names. Thus Col. Charles A. Lindbergh’s family name was originally Månsson,37 and that of Professor C. H. Seashore of the University of Iowa was Sjöstrand. The orthodox Swedish spelling calls for two s’s in such names as Svensson, Jonsson and Olsson, but one of them is usually dropped in America. In the names ending in -ander, e.g., Lekander, Kilander and Bolander, the accent is shifted from the second syllable, where it lies in Sweden, to the first.38 Many of the early Swedish immigrants really had no surnames, in our sense of the word. The son of Johan Karlsson was not Lars Karlson but Lars Johansson, and Lars’s son Johan in his turn was simply the son of Karl. Says Dr. George M. Stephenson of the University of Minnesota:
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