# Czecho-Slovak Student Life/Volume 18/Number 6/Czech-American Names

This is the first of two parts of the serialized article. For the second part see Czech-American Names in number 7.
Czech-American Names Written for the Student Life by Monsignor J. B. Dudek, K. C. H. S.
N 1925 I contributed, almost simultaneously, to “The American Speech” (December) and to another American periodical, two articles containing various observations on the changes undergone by Czech surnames in America. In these I assigned, as the principal reason for most of the alterations recorded, the difficulty that a great many Bohemian names necessarily present to an English-speaking people. I intimated that a Jestřáb, the first time he called for his mail, would naturally cause some commotion in the postoffice of an American village, and that an accomodating real estate agent, confronted with the prospect of drafting a deed or mortgage for a customer blessed with some patronymic like Chtivý, Bertič, Cvrkál, Kostořis, Ranhojič, Skořepa or Žížala, might well be filled with despair. The postmaster, after searching vainly through the C’s for Chestrob and the Y’s for Yesjob, could hardly be expected to do less than call the new patron of the office aside and suggest the advisability of adopting some designation more penetrable by the American mind if he did not wish the delivery of his mail impeded. And the real estate agent, having erroneously made out the deed or mortgage in favor of Tibby, Bertiss, Swottle, Costeritz, Ranhodges, Scarrippy or Cecily, as the case might be, under which it was recorded at the courthouse, perhaps innocently forced his client to adopt the new name to protect his title to the property conveyed. Be that as it may, a great many such revised versions—for better or worse—now adorn Czech families domiciled in the United States. ​To the numerous examples, cited in the essays mentioned, of changes wrought—sometimes over the long and indignant protest of the bearer of a surname that, in its original form, could be only a tongue-twister to an American—I have, lately, been able to make the interesting additions discussed in the paragraphs that follow. (I am taking it for granted that the readers of “Czechoslovak Student Life” are familiar enough with the Czech language to justify my omitting a guide to the pronunciation of the Bohemian words; as for the Americanized names, ordinary knowledge of the vagaries of English orthography and pronunciation will, in most cases, be sufficient.)
A Hnaníček obstinately refuses to do more than omit the diacritical marks in his signature. Rave as he will, his neighbors call him Mr. Kennanick, and the editor of the local weekly reports the sale of a carload of hogs by Mr. Hannick. It’s a pretty safe bet that by the time his son gets to the state university Hannick it will be. A Kašparek submits graciously enough to the pronunciations “Cash-pair-ick” or “Cuss-pair-ick”, both with accent on the second syllable, but squirms a little when the morning paper informs the public that “Mr. Caspary has opened up a new tailor shop on Broadway.” Never mind! he will fall for it, sooner or later. Neither more nor less has caused a Kavan to emerge finally as Cavanaugh, a Datel as De Atley, a Hrdý as Hardy, a Hanska as Hanskey, and a Paták as Paddock. Stoklasa, after being called Stocklassey for a time, became reconciled to Stowclassy, and so the Misses of the family are designated in the society columns. Chvála did not see much improvement in Whala, though the transliteration is almost perfect, and is now Whaley. Svazek is floundering about for something better than Swozzick or Swozzie, as most people will say it, and has about decided on Swazie, with a long a. Věta, after voluntarily writing Vieta without helping matters much, hit upon Veto. Švestka, Švanda and Švadleňák do not seem to get beyond the newspaper spellings Schwestka, Swanda and Schwadlenak, though most Americans find the latter as hard to say as the former. Příhoda has appeared in print as Pschigoda: how that is to be pronounced I don’t know; doubtless it will end up as Prickett or Pagoda within another generation. Fejfárek, Švihel, Rozkvět, Krčil, Šoupal, Klepetka, Havran, Šedivec, Prchal, Peksa (Pexa), and Šeredný have evolved into Fifer (through a reversion to the German Pfeiffer, whence both Fejfár and Fejfárek originated), Swiggle, Ross (through Rosskit or Rossket), Churchill, Swobble (through Schaubel or Schoble), Clapper or ​Clapp, Hawthorne or Howren, Sitwith, Perkins, Paxon and Sheridan respectively. A Pachta, who evidently knew a little Greek, first merely exchanged an x for the ch, but wound up as Paxton. One immigrant who had assumed Fixa intended thereby to “fix up” (spraviti) an original Spravil, but did not altogether get rid of foreign appearances. Doubtless he will drop the a when he learns that there are Americans named Fix. A Sixta, suspected by his Bohemian-American neighbors of having been a Šiška, explained that originally his name was Šesták. The sibilant Sis, recently brought to my attention, certainly must have replaced something like Šiška or Žižka. It is about as euphonious!
A practical and popular method for effecting convenient nominal Americanization is the exact or approximate translation into English of a Bohemian surname that exsits also as a substantive or an adjective: e. g., Miláček—Darling; Zlatý—Golden. For this purpose a Bohemian-English dictionary discloses almost unlimited possibilities, and advantage has been taken of them accordingly. Trojan being translatable by the English Trojan, suffers only a change of pronunciation, and the same word serves as a substitute for the diminutive Trojánek as well. This last, however, has been further Americanized as Troy. Gardiner supplanted an ancient Zahradník; Root, Kořínek, and Fox, Lišák or Liška. Chrastil, translating the verb chrastiti, to rustle, hit upon Russell, Šedivý appears not only as Gray, but also as Brown (or, in the German form, Braun), owing to the fact that colloquially many Czechs say šedivý instead of hnědy for brown. Císař, before the war, was more frequently Germanized as Kaiser; since then, Caesar has appeared, but more recently Keyser (pronounced Keezer) has been adopted as having some advantage over the indisputably foreign, Latin rendition. Růžek or Ružek, depending on whether it is understood as a derivative of růže (rose) or as a diminutive of roh (horn), becomes either Rose or Horne. Křička (an outcry) becomes Cryer or Krier. A Doubek (diminutive of dub, oak), whose ideas of orthography were more German than English, attempted to translate his name by Auch.
This, being promptly pronounced by Americans like the interjection ouch! was abandoned for Dobey, as they had been pronouncing his original name. There are Bohemians named Oakes, who were, in all probability, Doubeks. Bukáček, taken as a diminutive of buk, is, of course, rendered Beech. One Šafránek now spells his name Shafranck. This evidently gives the newspapers as much trouble as the original; an enterprising reporter got it printed as Sunnafranck. Other Šafráneks (or ​Šafrans) have practically translated the name by saffron, but spell it Saffran. Between Kozel and Williams there seems to be a wide gulf until it is remembered that a kozel is a billy-goat, and that Billy is the pet name for William. Consequently, no great amount of mental gymnastics on the part of Mr. Kozel was required for his evolution as Williams. A Kuřátko who became Henson evidently thought this was close enough to “Hen’s son”.
Quite frequently the new name is taken solely because of a real or fancied resemblance to the sound or the spelling of the original: e. g., Bunch for Buneš or Bochňák; Birch, Berry or Barry for Bareš (Baresh) or Bureš; Katrina (!) for Krtina; Cover for Kovář; Winslow (through Wenzel) for Věnec or Vaněk (for this there is also Van Eck); Hutchins, Hutchinson, for Chudáček (Hudáček); Roberts for Robot or Robota; Loosen, Lawson or Lawton for Lučina; Carney or Cutter (through Cotterney or Cudderny) for Kudrna; Lance for Lonec; Lank for Laník; Burns and Burnett for Bronec and Hrnek (also translated Potts or Potter); Leech for Liška; Malone for Maloun or Malina; Knott or Knox for Hnát; Garmer (Garner) for Jarmara; Hammock for Hamous or Hamata; Lucky, Luckett, for Lakota, Lakoma; Molly, Marley, for Malý, Malíček, Moláček; Mock, Mocker, Markley, Mockley, Makins, Michaels and Mitchell, indiscriminately, for such names as Mach, Machar, Machan and Máchal. Among the classics is McHan for Machan.
Transliteration of the Czech spelling by English characters is seldom satisfactory and therefore not attempted to any great extent. I have seen recently, howeer, Cherf for Červ, and Chapek for Kapek, in addition to Whala for Čapek, in addition to Whala Šonka, as far as I know, has done more than transliterate by Shonka, though there are American families named Ham. Translation here evidently appeared as the greater of two evils! Wodiska is a German-American attempt at Vodička. Cukr has been re-Germanized, in America, to Zucker. Jocosely, the bearer was called “Sucker”. I am unable to learn whether or not he chose it in preference to Sugar.
Nicknames, or plays upon Czech surnames, have resulted in their being adopted as such or with only slight change. A Janeček, for instance, was popularly known as “Johnnie-Crack” or “Johnnie-Jack”, and frequently used either himself in answering the telephone. In a recent number of “Student Life” (June 1927) I note among the nicknames bestowed upon the graduates of St. Procopius College “Hooch” for Hudáček and “Pants” for Nohava. Whether these will stick in ​after life or not is, of course, debatable, but a Palenka (whiskey), who was nicknamed “Hooch” by the younger American-Bohemian generation in his community, decided rapidly to call himself Hooker, while a Nohata, associating nohavice (trousers-legs) with the American-Bohemian word for pants (pence), eventually changed his name to Pence (English plural of penny). I have already observed that Lakota has become Lucky, so it is small wonder that the fellow students of a John Laketek should dub him “Lucky”. Similarly, “Berries” is an appropriate nickname for Baresh, which as I have said, has actually become Berry in this country. Kuba (the Czech nickname for the given name Jacob) was, by a family so surnamed, changed to Jacobs. They probably got tired of hearing themselves called “Kewpies”.
Among the Czechs immigrating to the United States are many with German or other foreign names, either wholly so or partially Bohemianized: Nagl, Najdl, Najmajer, Maršík, Kraupats, Henal, Heindl, Francl, Krejdl, Lachman, Šperl, Šnabl, Schnejbl, Stancl. For these there exist such Americanizations as Nagle, Newmayer, March (Marsh, Marshall), Corbett, Hensley, Henry, France, Cradle (Crandall), Lakeman, Pearl, Snable (Schneyble, Schnable), and Stansel or Stencil. Hoffmeister becomes either Hoffmaster or Hoffman (Huffman). Hoffman, by the way, is the only substitute I have yet discovered for Dvořák. Kougl may be German (cf. Kugel) or from the native, colloquial koukl, koukal (verb koukati), or, again, from the noun koukol, tares. It has been Americanized as Cowgill. Migl I assume to be German; it might, however, be from the native miknouti (mikl being colloquially the third person singular of the past tense). Miggle, as an American substitute, did not particularly appeal to the bearer, who changed to Mitchell. Jošta does not seem to be a native Czech name; it has become, in America, Yost. Hálek, a native name, of which I have seen the peculiar spelling Halq, savoring of Albanian or Turkish, in Bohemian papers, becomes Hall. Bažant (pheasant; a loan word) becomes variously Pezant, Bezant and Paysant, all accented on the last syllable. Fuxa (Fuksa) is another non-Czech name, possibly the German Fuchs. I noted three years ago an inexplicable—for at Bohemian—Fuqua, which had been Americanized as Fox. Thomas Čapek, in his “Čechs in America”, mentions a Vondráček who called himself Von Drack. The Von might lead one to suppose that the original surname was Teutonic; however, there is the native Czech ondrák, diminutive ondráček, (from ondati, to bother), and any one familiar ​with Czech knows that, colloquially, some Bohemians prefix a v to most words beginning with o. Another suggested derivation of Vondráček is onde, meaning “elsewhere”, which, however, seems less probable to me. Be that as it may, one Vondráček, alias Von Drack, shortened finally to Drake. Zubach (or Zubacher), apparently German, is discovered upon inquiry to have been formerly Zubák or Zoubek (stem zub, tooth). Wittera, I suspect, was once Věterák, though his Bohemian associates had never known him except as Vitera.
Among peculiar surnames borne by Czech families I have noted Filipi, Šotola, Raipis, Esrig, Olexa and Uxa. The first two appear to be Italian. There are, however, several native surnames derived from the Christian name Philip. Šotola certainly resembles Satolli, a well known Italian name. Raipis, which I cannot trace to any native source, has been changed to Reevis or Reeves; Esrig, which perhaps should beErsig (a corruption of the German Herzig or Herzog), has appeared as Estridge. Herzig or Herzog, I understand, has become Essary, also. Olexa turns out to be etymologically Slavic (cf. lech, olecha, olícha). It now masquerades under Oxley. The etymology of Uxa I am unable to determine. It looks foreign, but may be derived from ucho, ear, or from úcta, respect. Other things being equal, Jiggs would be a perfect disguise in hundred-percent American territory. Donato was a Spanish name professionally adopted by a familiar Czech-American of the eighties and nineties whose real surname was Zajíc. Other families named Zajíc, as I observed in my previous essays, have changed to Sites, by transliteration (first in German, Seitz), or to Hayes (through corruption of a German translation, Hase, Haase), while one, by a clever English translation, became O’Hare. Dongres, apparently a Spanish name, was, in all probability, assumed by the Bohemian who bore it. I have been unable, however, to discover what it may have replaced. A Jez stoutly denies that his ancestors were named Ježek. Though an uncommon word, jez is, of course, a perfectly good Czech noun, so we must take him at his word. To his American associates he is Mr. Yes or Mr. Jazz, but so far he simply smiles at the suggestion that one or the other be substituted for his native name. The similarity of the Czech Zálabák to an Italian surname, Sciallaba, has been called to my attention, but I have failed to unearth any connection except the resemblance in sound. A nearer resemblance exists between the Italian Blasco and a rather unusual Czech surname, Blásko, which is probably a corruption of Blažek or Bláha. I had occasion previously to remark ​on Kolombo or Colombo as a peculiar Bohemian surname. Shortly afterword, I found in a syndicated newspaper item, the information that “Nitra, in Czechoslovakia, claims the distinction of having as one of its few inhabitants a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus. The bearer of the historic name of Rodolfo Colombo is a music instructor. Rodolfo’s father, Giovanni Colombo, was a major in an Austrian infantry regiment. In 1910 the major read in a Viennese newspaper a notice inserted by the executors of the defunct Spaniard (sic) prince, Christophoro Colombo of Veragna, a descendant of the navigator, inviting all the presumptive heirs to present their claims. Giovanni was too poor to engage a lawyer to look after the affair, but succeeded himself in finding a certificate of baptism of the year 1712, which proved that one of his ancestors, Leopoldo Colombo, had been a member of the imperial guard. The certificate proved clearly the nobility of the family.” This I quote in full, for whatever it may be worth, as possibly shedding light on the existence of Kolombo as the surname of Czechs.
Indisputably unhandy Czech names like Drbohlav, Zrzan, Kopřiva, Křivohlávek, Košař, Štěrba, Kolářík, and the like, still survive, especially in larger Bohemian-American communities, a perhaps pardonable American inhospitality; their total disappearance in other localities probably accounts for the fact that persons speaking Czech are to be found with such names as Callahan, Cunningham, Jones, Smith, Higgins and Simmons. Matrimonial alliances will, of course, account for some of them. The arbitrary assumption of totally irrelevant names continues, on the whole, to be rather exceptional, though it is on the increase, especially where foreigners are looked at askance. Formerly Bohemians in America considered alteration of the family name almost criminal; now, especially in the South and in the Middle West, it is not unusual for them to take a new arrival in hand and urge him to get rid of a cognominal impediment like Netopýr, Mravenec, Opatřil, Trpaslík or Vomáčka as soon as possible.
Americans Like Czech Music.
Of late Czech music has gained popularity in American musical circles. Last month especially New York’s programs were teeming with Czech music and Czech artists.
On the tenth of March a successful concert of Czech music coupled with an apropos lecture on Czechoslovak music by consul Dr. J. Novák was radio broadcast.
Ella Správková, pianist, and Boža Oumiroff, famous Czech baritone, gave a concert in the Cordon Club, Fine Arts Building, Chicago, April 1st.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published in 1928, before the cutoff of January 1, 1930.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1963, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 61 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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