“Hi. My Name Is Irwin, But You Can Call Me…”

For some reason, I was thinking about nicknames the other day, so I decided to do a little digging to see what I could find. I would venture to say that as far as people are concerned, almost everyone will have had one or more over the years, often derived from a shortening or repurposing of one’s name, like Robert becoming Bob or Rob. Other examples can be derived from someone’s looks, behavior, their occupation, and a variety of other reasons. Some nicknames are not flattering and may be used behind your back; others are given to you at a very early age and are used for your entire life. Often, a person will have had several nicknames over the years, either self-given, or assigned to you by family, friends, or colleagues. Some can be very temporary, given to you at a certain juncture in your life, while others may be derived by something you’ve achieved, a specific milestone (like being called “old man”), or where you are from. As far as my nicknames over the years go, all of the above apply. There are, of course, things and places that are also given nicknames. Los Angeles, “The City of Angels,” for example, or The House of World Cultures art museum in Berlin, “The Pregnant Oyster,” which I am sure the architects and the city are not too fond of. You be the judge!

The word itself is a compound word ekename, literally meaning “additional name,” which dates back to as early as 1303. This word was derived from the Old English phrase eac, “also, which in turn is related to eacian “to increase.” By the 15^th century, the “mis division” of the syllables of the phrase “an ekename led to its rephrasing as “a nekename.” The spelling may have changed over the years, but the pronunciation and meaning have remained the same. Various societies have their own unique ways of using nicknames, but the end result is often the same.

I have had seven different nicknames thus far, although there could be others that were given to me that I know nothing about, and to be honest, I do not have a burning desire to find out what they were. The only derogatory one that I know about is actually a derivative of my last name, Shubert. Some kid in high school who obviously didn’t like me, and I am sure the feeling was mutual, used to call me Shitbert. I don’t remember him ever saying it to my face, but it’s high school and you hear stuff. Now, Irwin is not a name that is easily shortened – many have tried – but when my brother arrived on the scene and began talking, he could not pronounce my name, and so for a few years (1956-58) I was “Win.” My parents thought it was so cute, but I wanted to throttle him! I also remember a grade five or six French teacher calling me “Itsy,” but as far as I know she was the only one that called me that, and I moved just before the end of grade six, so that was the end of that.

The next “handle” was given to me by one or more of my three close buddies whom I met when I was twelve (we are still in touch today), and it had nothing to do with my name, but it had everything to do with the picture at the top. If you recognize this figure, then you, like I was, were a fan of the comic strip “Lil Abner” by Al Capp, a satirical American comic strip that appeared in multiple newspapers in the United States, Canada, and Europe. It featured a fictional clan of hillbillies living in an impoverished fictional mountain village of Dogpatch, USA. The strip ran for 43 years from 1934-1977. Before Li’l Abner, Capp’s comic strips typically dealt with northern urban American experiences, and L’il Abner was his first foray into the Southern United States. In its heyday, the comic strip had 60 million readers in over 900 American newspapers and 100 foreign papers across 28 countries.

The armless pear-shaped character, Shmoo, first appeared in 1948 as an unusual creature that loved humans. A Shmoo laid eggs and bottles of Grade A milk in an instant and would gladly die and change itself into a sizzling steak if its owner merely looked at it hungrily. Shmoos multiplied faster than rabbits, so owning a pair of Shmoos meant that any family was immediately self-sufficient. The satire (tragic), derived from the fact that the Shmoos proved to be too good for humanity’s sake. However, nobody was prepared, including Capp, for the way that the Shmoo was embraced and impacted American culture. Just as one example of this, during its first year of its appearance in the strip, Shmoo merchandise generated over $25,000,000 in sales and that’s in 1948 dollars! So, how did I get the nickname? I was familiar with the character, as I was reading the strip by the time I was 13 or 14. One day, I decided to take on old white sweatshirt that I had that was way too big for me, drew the Shmoo face on it, tied the arms behind the back, slipped it on over my head, yanked it down below my knees, and started hopping along the sidewalk in front of my friends. They just looked at me, laughed, and yelled Shmoo.

In 1967 (the year of Expo 67), my buddy Steve and I had jobs as bellhops at a hotel in downtown Montreal for the summer. The bell captain was this nasty little Frenchman who definitely had a Napoléon complex and would give us shit every day we were there. He fired me one day, and the next day he called me at home and asked me why I hadn’t come in for my shift! For some reason, he thought I looked like Marlon Brando – I do not – and he started calling me Marline, which is Marlon with a thick Parisienne accent. It only lasted the summer of that year, and he was the only one that ever called me by that name. When I went back to university in 1984 to finish what I had started in 1968, I had a friend that I met in an English class we were both in, and she started calling me Ir. We have not seen each other for quite some time, but I have a feeling that if we did, the nickname would reappear.

All of which brings me to the nickname that I now have: North. And, as I am very fond of telling people, it has nothing to do with Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s child of the same name. This moniker was given to me by my wife. When we first met, I was living in Vancouver, B.C. and she was in Los Angeles. As things escalated relationship-wise, I was making frequent trips to Los Angeles, before taking the plunge and moving there permanently. A friend of my wife’s was over at her place one day, and she was asking her if I was going to be coming to LA that weekend, but she couldn’t remember my name, so she said” “Is what’s-his-name coming this weekend, you know, the guy from the north?” I was, and when I arrived at the airport, my wife came over to the carrousel where I was waiting for my bag, and she said: “Hi North.” Needless to say, it stuck, well, in this country at least. In Canada, I’m still Irwin, Win, Itsy, Shmoo…!

Los Angeles 2024