Tomorrow is Mardi Gras, and in New Orleans, that means one thing: a parade featuring Rex, King of Carnival. Mardi Gras parades begin days earlier, and every parade organization – called a krewe – has its royalty. But Rex and his Queen, along with their court of Maids, Dukes, and Pages, occupy a special place in the revels.
Rex traces its roots to 1872, and their royals have been drawn from the most prominent of New Orleans families. The men named Rex are accomplished civic leaders; their consorts are chosen from the season’s debutantes.
Over the years, Rex and his court have worn some fascinating names – a mix of old Southern tradition and French influence. Here are some of my favorites, drawn from decades of Mardi Gras’ reigning royals:
With Labor Day upon us, it seems like the perfect moment to focus on the original pre-barbecue meaning of the holiday and celebrate hard-working occupational names. So we’re looking back to wtoe we wrote on the subject in our book Beyond Ava & Aiden, but here focusing on the less used, fresher sounding examples, and those with less obvious meanings, so no Archer, Shepherd or Baker.
Have you noticed how many of the boys’ names climbing up the ladder end in the letters ‘er’? They sound really new and cool, but in reality a large proportion of them actually originated in medieval England as occupational surnames, when Timothy the Tanner morphed into Timothy Tanner—as if in our day Pete the Programmer became Pete Programmer. And even if a large proportion of these are trades that no longer exist in this Digital Age, and some of their meanings have been lost to time, part of their appeal as a group lies in their throwback reference to basic concepts of honest labor, adding some historical heft to their appeal, and giving them more weight than other fashionable two-syllable names. They offer the parents of boy babies a comfortable middle ground between the sharper-edged single syllable names (Holt, Colt), and the more ornate longer names (Gregory, Jeremy) of the recent past. Here are some of the most usable ones, together with their original, sometimes arcane, meanings.
The er-ending names
- Banner— flag bearer
- Barker –stripper of bark from trees for tanning
- Baxter— a baker, usually female
- Beamer — trumpet player
- Booker — scribe
- Boyer — bow maker, cattle herder
- Brenner — charcoal burner
- Brewster — brewer of beer
- Bridger — builder of bridges
- Carter — cart maker or driver, transporter of goods
- Carver — sculptor
- Chandler — candle maker
- Chaucer — maker of breeches, boots or leg armor
- Collier — charcoal seller, coal miner
- Conner — inspector
- Cooper — wooden barrel maker
- Coster — fruit grower or seller
- Currier — leather finisher
- Cutler — knife maker
- Decker — roofer
- Dexter — dyer
- Draper — woolen cloth maker or seller
- Duffer — peddler
- Farrier— iron worker
- Fletcher — arrow maker
- Forester — gamekeeper, forest warden
- Foster — sheep shearer
- Fowler — hunter of wild birds
- Glover — maker or seller of gloves
- Granger — granary worker
- Harper — harp maker or player
- Hollister — female brothel keeper!!
- Hooper — one who makes or fits hoops for barrels
- Hopper — dancer, acrobat
- Hunter — huntsman
- Jagger — a Yorkshire name meaning peddler or carrier
- Keeler — boatman or barge builder
- Kiefer — barrel maker or overseer of a wine cellar
- Lander — launderer
- Lardner — servant in charge of the larder
- Lorimer — a spur maker
- Mercer — merchant, especially in luxury fabrics
- Miller — grinder of corn
- Nayler — maker of nails
- Parker — gamekeeper in a medieval private park
- Porter — gate keeper, carrier of goods
- Potter — maker or seller of earthenware pottery
- Quiller — scribe
- Ranger — game warden
- Rider/Ryder — cavalryman, horseman, messenger
- Sadler– saddle maker
- Salter — worker in or seller of salter
- Sayer –several meanings: assayer of metal, food taster, woodcutter (as in Sawyer)
- Slater — roofer
- Sumner — court summoner
- Thatcher — roofer
- Tolliver — metal worker (Anglicization of the italian Taliaferro)
- Turner — turner of wood on a lathe
- Webster — weaver, originally female
- Wheeler— wheel maker
Other occupational names
- Baird— minstrel or poet
- Beaman— beekeeper
- Chaplin— clergyman
- Farrar— blacksmith, metalworker
- Fisk— fisherman
- Reeve— bailiff, chief magistrate
- Smith— metal worker, blacksmith
- Steele— a steel worker
- Todd— a fox hunter
- Travis— gate keeper, toll collector
- Ward— watchman, guard
- Wright— carpenter, joiner
The world’s been abuzz lately with the casting of relative unknown Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander in the Hollywood version of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and its sequels. While others might be interested in the young actress’s previous films or her fashion sense, we name nerds can think of only one thing: Where’d she get that cool name? And how can I get one like it?
Rooney Mara comes by her Irish-surname-as-first semi-honestly: It’s her real middle name and her mother’s original last name. Born Patricia Rooney Mara, the actress dropped her pedestrian first name in favor of her more exotic middle, which means red-haired. Great-grandfather Art Rooney founded the Pittsburgh Steelers.
Rarely heard as a first name — there were 23 boys born with the name in 2009, and fewer than five girls — the new prominence of Miss Mara can only add power to the growing trend of using Irish last names as firsts. And while Irish surname names have been used for girls as well as boys in recent years, Rooney Mara‘s fame seems certain to further feminize the image of these names.
Other choices with celebrity or pop culture connections include:
- Brady — Miranda‘s son in Sex & The City.
- Carson — Author Carson McCullers.
- Cassidy — Kathie Lee Gifford‘s much-discussed daughter.
- Cullen — Surname of Twilight hero Edward.
Like Jenny-from-the-block (well maybe not quite), I was a roller-skating, rope-jumping, potsy- (hopscotch to you) playing child of the Bronx streets. At that time I was completely unaware of how the mostly pretentious –sounding names of those streets might have referred back to past heroic figures (Popham? Burnside? Bathgate?). In my mind what they were identified with was the kids I knew who lived on them—Nelson Avenue was associated with the Mazur sisters, Jessup with my classmate Nancy, Loring with my bf Margery’s grandmother, and Shakespeare with my elementary school.
(One name that fascinated me and couldn’t be ignored was Featherbed Lane, a street that I passed on the way to school every day and was home to my Aunt Pearl and family. It was only later that I discovered the probable origins of the name—that during the Revolutionary War, locals covered the street with feather beds so that the soldiers fighting the British could move quietly through the area—though there were other explanations as well.)
Here are some of the mostly surname names from my neighborhood and beyond:
During my childhood, if you were from the Bronx, it was practically in your DNA to hate all things Brooklyn. But now that I’ve matured into a more rational and objective name observer, I do have to admit that that other borough does have a better selection of street names—less stuffy and a lot more that are actually suited to a baby. In fact there are so many Courts and Places with standard first names that you have to wonder if the streets weren’t named after the builders’ own babies.
Here’s a selection—there are lots more:
Since April is National Poetry Month, this seems like a perfect time to revisit some of the most poetic of baby names. We’ve already seen starbabies named Poet (Soleil Moon Frye), Sonnet (Forest Whitaker), Auden (Noah Wyle), Tennyson (Russell Crowe), and of course any number of Dylans (traceable back to poet Thomas), not to mention a growing profusion of Emersons.
By some quirk of fate — or maybe it’s prophecy fulfillment – poets in general seem to have more poetic surnames than prose writers do. Here are some poet-name possibilities: