Is Reagan Dutch or O & W?

By Roger Rosenblatt

Familiarity breeds nicknames, so it stands to reason that the more we get to know President-elect Ronald Reagan, the more likely we are to call him by any other name. But which one? Mr. Reagan calls Mrs. Reagan "Mommie," and she him "Ronnie." According to the New York Times, Mr. Reagan's tailor, Frank Mariani, also calls him Ronnie ("Ronnie is rather conservative"). Should we too call him Ronnie? Or should we call him O & W?

That evidently is a pet name reporters have given Mr.

Reagan, abbreviating "oldest and wisest," an epithet that originated with Congressman Jack Kemp.

"Hello, O & W" sounds a bit cumbersome, but it could be done. Then there's that "Dutch" business.

Mr. Reagan's father (Jack) observed to Mr. Reagan's mother (Nelle) and brother (Moon) that baby Ronald looked like "a fat Dutchman." Mr. Reagan readily took to his nickname because he felt that Ronald was "a bit on the sissy side." So, should we call him Dutch? Dutch and Mommie? Granted, this is not the sort of problem that has the country's big thinkers in a tizzy, but perhaps nicknames count for more than they appear to. Harry Truman was lucky enough to have his given name sound like a nickname, so as President he had more than a nominal advantage. President Carter, on the other hand, strode into history on the announcement, "My name is Jimmy Carter, and I'm running for President." At first we thought we misheard him. Did he say Jimmy? Oh, there was Jimmy the Greek, oddly. And Jimmy Crackcorn, if you cared.

And Jimmy Hoffa, somewhere. And Jimmy Durante, as the world knows. But could a U.S. President actually call himself Jimmy and get away with it? As it turned out, the answer was no. By calling himself an adoring diminutive, Mr. Carter preempted any possible public urge to do the same. In our own good time we might have come to call him Jimmy, just as we called others before him Ike, Jack and Jerry. But since Mr. Carter took Jimmy for himself, he left no room for any spontaneous objective expression of affection. What followed was disaffection. Two years into the presidency, people not only were not calling him Jimmy, they were calling him Carter, almost always with a hard edge of distaste. Indeed, the entire history of this Administration may be read in the evolution from "Jimmy" to "Carter," one name, in a sense, being the polar opposite of the other. The first law of nicknaming, then, is that the term must arise from the heart, from some irrepressible popular urge to bring a public figure closer to the family bosom. Britain's Margaret Thatcher was aided immeasurably in her campaign by being known as Maggie; "Ted" Heath and "Sunny Jim" Callaghan were similarly embraced. So was Rhodesia's Ian Smith, who was known as "Good Old Smitty" to his white supporters, if not to blacks or to Mrs. Smith. Thailand's former Prime Minister Kriangsak Chamanan was called "Sweet Eyes." Such definite nicknames are useful not only to normal citizens but to journalists as well. In the matter of Mr. Reagan it will be considerably easier for, say, a pleased New York Post to write its 3-in. headlines: BONNIE RONNIE, or DUTCH TREAT, rather than resorting to a characteristic, though imprecise, YAY. There is, of course, a kind of nickname that does not stem from a desire for familiarity. Sobriquet is a more ceremonial word for nickname (sort of a nickname's given name), but it is generally used in a formal, titular sense, and not as anything one actually would call someone else. A nickname may be at once demeaning and endearing (see New Zealand's Prime Minister, "Piggy" Muldoon). But a sobriquet keeps its distance. Attila's of for example, were alternately "The Terror of the World" and "The Scourge of God," depending on his be havior. No one called him Hunny.

It should be said too that there are public figures whose bearing simply does not lend itself to nicknames. It is hard to imagine that the French would ever refer to their leader as Val. And Mrs. Gandhi is surely nothing but Indira to her friend or two.

To think of Leonid Brezhnev as anything like "Bud" or "Red" is out of the question, as is Whizzer Begin or Buck Khomeini.

When reporters used their nickname for Cambodia's King Sihanouk, "Snooky," they were banned from his presence.

On the whole, however, people will fight through a for bidding given name, especially when they want to make some one more vivid hi their minds. Where would baseball be without Goose, hockey without Boom Boom, football without Mean Joe? Common criminals would sound like common criminals were there no Machine Gun, Killer or Mad Dog among them. Not that all gangster names are so picturesque. Nathan Kaplan's monicker was "Kid Dropper" for reasons too awful to contemplate. And Al Capone was known as the Millionaire Gorilla, though it is hard to picture some floozie chucking him under the chin and cooing, "Come on, you big, bad Millionaire Gorilla."

Unfortunately, none of this offers much of a guide toward what to call soon-to-be President Reagan. Neither does America's own history, which is packed with presidential sobriquets equally various and baffling. George Washington was known not only as the Father of His Country, but also as the Stepfather of His Country and the Father of Pittsburgh. At least four U.S. Presidents were known as "His Accidency" (Tyler, Fillmore, Arthur and Andrew Johnson). That name, while suggestive, is still a cut above "His Fraudulency" (Rutherford B. Hayes). Mar tin Van Buren was alternately called "Whiskey Van," because he could hold his liquor, and "The American Talleyrand" (though Talleyrand was never known as the French Van Buren). We will not discuss Wobbly Willie McKinley or Old Rough and Ready.

A good many former Presidents were known as "The" some thing-- "The Napoleon of the Stump" (Polk); "The Sage of Wheatland" (Buchanan); "The Squire of Hyde Park." Perhaps Mr. Reagan will come to be known as "The Squire of Rancho del Cielo," or "The Gipper," in reference to his second most memorable movie role, or in reference to the first, "The Rest of Me." New York Builder Donald Trump is called "The Donald" by Mrs. Trump, so we might call Mr. Reagan "The Ronald." It is too early to tell.

For now let it be noted that presidential nicknames have dwindled in our century, from "The Hero of San Juan Hill," who sported 17, to "Tricky Dick," who needed but one. Either we are growing less fond of our leaders, or they are growing further away from us. In any case, it will be a healthy sign for Mr Reagan should the public start calling him Ronnie or even Sweet Eyes. TIME'S congressional correspondent Neil MacNeil recalls that when Mike DiSalle, then mayor of Toledo, escorted ex-King Michael of Yugoslavia in an open-car parade, the citizens called out to the mayor, "Hey, Mike" and "Mike" this and "Mike" that. The King observed to his host that the people didn't seem to treat him with much dignity by calling him Mike. Replied DiSalle: "If your people had called you Mike, you might still be King." --By Roger Rosenblatt

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.