2005
We all remember from our high school history classes that America was named in honor of the Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci, who followed Christopher Columbus to the New World. It was the German geographer and cartographer Martin Waldseemueller, who translated the accounts of Vespucci’s explorations, who suggested the name.
What we don’t know is why Waldseemueller chose to use Vespucci’s given name, Amerigo, rather than his Christian name. Had Waldseemueller chosen differently, instead of being called Americans, we would all be called Vespuccians. Imagine what that would have done to our culture! For example, Irving Berlin would have written this song:
God bless Vespucci. Land that I love
Stand beside her, and guide her.
Through the night, with the light from above.
From the mountains. To the prairies.
To the oceans, white with foam.
God bless Vespucci, my home sweet home.
God bless Vespucci, my home sweet home.
We would be pledging allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of Vespucci. Immigrants would have flocked to our nation to seek The Vespuccian Dream.
The indigenous people Europeans discovered living here would today be called Native Vespuccians. We could be shopping on one of New York City’s most famous streets, the Avenue of the Vespuccis. Or flying to DFW on Vespucci Airlines. Your internet provider might be Vespucci On-Line. Constitutional watchdogs would be members of the Vespuccian Civil Liberties Union. Sailing’s most coveted prize would be The Vespucci’s Cup. The Boston Red Sox would have won the Vespuccian League pennant, and the New England Patriots today would be Vespuccian Football Conference champions. Who will be the next beauty to be crowned at the Miss Vespucci Pageant?
William J. Lederer’s and Eugene Burdick’s best-selling book about misguided U.S. foreign policy would have been entitled “The Ugly Vespuccian.” Dick Clark would have been famous for hosting “Vespuccian Bandstand.” Don McLean would have sung “Bye-bye, Miss Vespuccian Pie.” Grand Funk Railroad would have recorded “Vespuccian Woman.” Chris Isaak would have claimed that he’s “the original Vespuccian boy,” and the band Vespucci would have ridden through the desert on a horse with no name. Green Day would be ridiculing the redneck agenda on “Vespuccian Idiot.”
Somehow, I don’t think Vespucci has the same cachet as America. I can’t imagine the rest of the world taking us as seriously if we were called Vespuccians. Do you? The very word “Americans” suggests strength and self-assurance. As Vespuccians we would sound like we were villainous characters from an episode of Star Trek.
Now imagine how strange and confusing things would sound if we, like Martin Waldseemueller, had chosen first names instead of last names to identify places and products. Why, the capital of Vespucci would be George, District of Christopher. The capital of Texas would be Stephen. You would be listening to this broadcast from the studios at UMass Francis. The nation’s brightest students would be going to Oxford on Cecil Scholarships and probably getting to England flying aboard an Edward 747.
You might be racing down the highway, listening to the burbling pipes of your sporty Henry Mustang GT. That humungous SUV, the Henry Expedition, would undoubtedly have been nicknamed the Hank Tank. Come to think of it, Henry Ford’s son did give his first name to an automobile, and the Edsel was a flop.
The utility company providing electricity to the people of New York would be known as ConTom. Thomas Edison, of course, also invented the phonograph, which was also known as a gramophone. Now imagine the confusion if Alexander Graham Bell had decided to give his invention of the same period, the telephone, his middle name. We might have had two very different gramophones, which even today could have been very confusing to the shoppers at Richard & Alvah. Imagine using your new gramophone for the first time, and instead of hearing a dial tone, you’re listening to Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits.
It is only through pure whimsy that we are Americans and know where we’re going and what we’re buying. And we don’t have to hear this:
Oh beautiful, for spacious skies
And amber waves of grain
From purple mountains’ majesty
Above thy fruited plain
Vespucci, Vespucci,
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good, with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea
Come to think of it, shining sea rhymes very nicely with Vespucci. Hmmm.
In summary, I don’t know if we’d be as proud to be Vespuccians. But I do know, considering that it was a 50-50 chance, that we are lucky to be Americans.