Naming Names

Same name, two generations: My dad and me, 1959



My ancestors on my father's side came from Trois Rivieres, Quebec. My last name, Dupuis, is quite common there, as it also is in Louisiana, and in the area around New Bedford, Massachusetts, where my father was born.

And it goes without saying that it's a very common name in France: the seducer of Emma Bovary in Gustave Flaubert's most famous novel was a Leon Dupuis. I met a man years ago who shared my surname, and he informed me that the French city of Loudun, where they burned witches in 1634, is the family's ancestral hub. We Dupuis (Dupuises? I've never been able to sort that out) have even bumped into the movies: the next time you rent Steel Magnolias, take note of the fact that Darryl Hannah's ex-boyfriend in the film is a Jasper Dupuis. We're all over the place, usually somewhere in the background.

But sometimes I wish my name were Sam Huck or Bill Jones or Bruce Springsteen. The only place anyone ever got it right on the first try was Paris, where a hotel desk clerk greeted me cheerfully as "Monsieur Dupuis," pronouncing it not only correctly but with the elegant labio-dental slide that it's supposed to have.

People on this side of the pond, even people I've known for a while, have trouble either pronouncing it or spelling it or both. My friend Jennifer, who handles media calls for San Diego County Supervisor Diane Jacob, was jotting down my name just this morning. Admittedly, Jennifer and I hadn't spoken on the phone for a while, but she asked me, "So...it's spelled 'D-U-P-R-I-S,' right?" I corrected her. "There's no 'r' in it." (You're not alone, Jennifer. I've told hundreds of people that there's no 'r" in it.)


I recently got married again. At the wedding reception I informed our guests that my wife was going to keep her surname, "Blake." This isn't because I've become some Alan Alda feminist. Mostly it had to do with logistics. "She offered to take my name," I explained, "but in view of what I've had to put up with all my life, having a French surname that most of my fellow Americans can neither pronounce nor spell, I decided I didn't want to put her through that."

That was only part of the story, of course. My wife is in business, and changing all of her business-brandings to read "Dupuis" rather than "Blake" would have cost a lot of money that we could just as easily spend on a Greek island cruise.

There is one area where having a gnarly last name has worked to my advantage: dealing with telemarketers. It's a dandy 'flag' for identifying uninvited and unwelcome telephone calls. If my phone rings and the person on the other end wants to speak to "Mr. Dew-pewis" or "Mr. Dew-pew" or "Mr. Dew-pwah," the chances are very good that that person doesn't know me and wants to sell me something. I mean, if they knew me, they'd know how to pronounce my name, right? Call me up looking for Mr. Dew-pewis, and all you're going to hear in reply is a really loud click.

I have thought of moving, either to Quebec or to France, just so this won't be so much of a problem. (Since I don't like hot, sticky weather, Louisiana never was an option, and that state's recent tragic bad luck with hurricanes makes me less inclined than ever to go there.) But of course in Canada or France I'd just be another Tom, Dick or Jean-Louis in the crowd. Here at home, having a slightly off-the-wall last name gives me a certain cachet---I once showed up wearing a beret to cover a speech at a Rotary Club meeting, and the rotarians gave me a round of applause, for being properly costumed, I would guess. People sometimes ask me if I speak French. I don't, but my father did. (When my father was in the Coast Guard in the 1930s, he was "Frenchy" on every ship he ever served. But of course those were the pre-Political Correctness days when ethnic nicknames weren't forbidden by the protocols of cultural sensitivity.)

I have also thought, naturally, of legally changing the name to something a bit more anglophone, if only for convenience's sake. Perhaps if I were 21 again, just starting out in the business, ambitious and in want of a real snappy-sounding by-line, I might. Maybe I'd be "J.D. Hawk," a great by-line if ever I heard one. But I happen to have a friend who's already using that name. No, I think I'll just stick with Dupuis until the bell rings. I know how to spell and pronounce it, and teaching others to do so can be a great ice-breaker ("That's 'D,U, P as in Paul, U, I, S as in Sam,' " I've been saying on the phone for years.)

As for telemarketers, let the caller beware. I have a few choice names for them, too.