The second in an occasional series looking back at the baby name trends of years past.
1945 began with battles fought around the world. The year saw the sudden death of President Roosevelt, and ultimately the victory of Allied forces in World War II.
1946 was the beginning of "after." Troops came home, and the U.S. birth rate rose by 20%. The country and the world turned from a wartime mindset toward rebuilding, and the future.
You can see that dramatic transition playing out, family by family, in the year's baby name trends. The falling boys' names in particular show parents putting the momentous events of 1945 behind them and looking ahead.
Fastest-Falling Boys' Names of 1946:
That's a clean sweep of history, as late President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, new President Harry Truman, and the war victory all receded from baby name view. The rapid fall of Truman shouldn't be taken as an indictment of Harry Truman. Truman had been the fastest-rising name of the previous year, in a show of support for the man who suddenly found himself president. 1946 saw the natural settling after that spike. Similarly, Victor was settling back to its typical popularity after a year of celebrating victory. Parents were simply moving on.
One extraordinary name on the falling boys' list: #17, Adolph. It's hard to imagine that after four years of war against Hitler, the name still had that far to fall.
On the falling girls' side we find Victor's counterpart Victoria at #2. The rest of the falling girls' names, though, are surprisingly scattershot and obscure: Laraine, Carolee, Charla, Zelma. Wartime patriotism, it turns out, was encoded far more in boys' names than girls. Girls' names seem to have been in stylistic limbo during the war, with individual rises and falls based on movie stars and popular songs but no major direction. A year after the war's end, though, American parents were ready to turn the page and launch a new era of names.
The Top 10 Fastest-Rising Names of 1946:
...plus runners-up like Sherry, Patricia, Danny, Linda, Sharon, Suzanne, Cathy, Steven, Sandra and Bruce.
Those lists feature a single one-year-wonder in Gilda, the title character of a 1946 film. (And if you're wondering, yes, comedian Gilda Radner was born in 1946.) But the rest of the names announce the start of the baby boom generation. In the turn of a year, you can literally see post-war America being born.
What do you call a nobody -- or an anybody? In American English, we have plenty of answers. You'll hear nameless males referred to as:
John Q. Public
All are anonymous, yet none are synonymous. There are many ways to be nameless.
John Doe is most often a specific individual whose identity is either unknown (as in the case of a body found at an accident scene) or concealed (as in the case of confidential legal proceedings). Relatives: Jane Doe, Richard Roe.
John Smith is a flexible generic individual, often encountered in hypothetical situations or as a placeholder to indicate where a name should go. Relatives: Jane Smith.
John Q. Public is a representative member of American society. As the the typical man on the street, he is a probabilistic mix of social strata and frequently encountered in policy discussions. Relatives: Jane Q. Public, John Q. Taxpayer.
Joe Schmo is the put-upon American everyman; the hard-working, hard-luck side of John Q. Public. Relatives: Joe Blow, Joe Sixpack, Average Joe, Every Tom, Dick and Harry. Notably, he has no direct female counterpart.
Little Johnny is a representative American child, presumed to be part of a representative American nuclear family. Relatives: Little Timmy, Little Susie, and the rest of the Mid-Century Normative Child gang.
Then there are more specialized anybodies. "The Joneses" are hypothetical friends and neighbors who set community standards. "Alan Smithee" was, for decades, the anonymous director of any film disowned by its creator. You can even make a case for Spartacus as a name of anonymity via solidarity (or at the very least, a good Starbucks prank).
Even these placeholder names only hint at the possibilities. It seems to me we could use a generic name for telemarketers. Or maybe more than one; "Cassie Cause" is a different sort from "Mickey Mortgage."
What's more, the translation of John to Jane doesn't seem a satisfactory representation of generic women. Couldn't we put some more femininity in our anonymity? And as American names become more diverse, all these Johns and Joes become more retro than everyman. Surely it's time for a generic name for the non-generically-named generation.
What kinds of nameless individuals do you think we need, and what would you un-name them?
You will totally believe what these dozen a-listers named their kids! Maybe something isn't in the water out in Hollywood?
Benjamin Brady (Tom Brady and Gisele Bündchen, born 2009)
Charlotte Prinze (Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar, born 2009)
Faith Urban (Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman, born 2010)
Henry Moder (Julia Roberts and Daniel Moder, born 2007)
Helen De Niro (Robert De Niro and Grace Hightower, born 2011)
Isabella Damon (Matt Damon and Luciana Bozán Barroso, born 2006)
Louis Bullock (Sandra Bullock, born 2010)
Michael Wahlberg (Mark Wahlberg and Rhea Durham, born 2006)
Noah Green (Megan Fox and Brian Austin Green, born 2012)
Samuel Affleck (Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner, born 2012)
Thomas Black (Jack Black and Tanya Haden, Born 2008)
William Parker (Mary-Louise Parker and Billy Crudup, born 2004)
Just thought I'd give some equal time to the less talked-about celebrity children, and a bit of reassurance to all of us living in creative-naming communities during a creativing-naming age:
Baby naming isn't a competitive sport. Creative or classic, the perfect name is simply the name you love.