The death of Mickey Rooney (Joe Yule), made Declan
Burke consider the monikers that just had to be changed
IN Hollywood, you don’t stop playing a role
when the cameras fall silent, you just step into a different persona.
Take Marion Morrison, for example. A tough,
rugged cowboy called Marion? Perhaps not. Change the name to John Wayne,
though, and you’re riding off into the sunset and cinematic history.
The death of Mickey Rooney on April 6 brought
down the curtain on not only one of the greatest of all Hollywood careers, but
also its longest act of theatrical ventriloquism. Born Joseph Yule in 1920,
Rooney starred in over 150 movies, receiving awards for screen, stage and TV
over the course of a career that began when he was 14 months old and lasted
almost 93 years.
Indeed, Rooney’s first name change — there
would be a few — came on his very first public appearance. Crawling onstage
during his parents’ vaudeville act, the infant Joe Yule was held aloft by his
father and introduced to the audience as ‘Sonny Yule’. A star was born.
The star was reborn in Hollywood in 1925, when
the five-year-old Joe Yule was given the part of ‘Mickey McGuire’ for a series
of short films. When the producer was slapped with a copyright lawsuit, Joe
Yule’s mother was persuaded to legally rename her child Mickey McGuire. The
gambit failed, despite the mother’s willingness to change her own name to
McGuire, and young Joe Yule was forbidden to describe himself as Mickey McGuire
on or off screen.
In 1932, while on a vaudeville tour with his
mother and legally obliged by the Fox studio not to use his established name,
the twelve-year-old adopted the moniker ‘Mickey Looney’. The name suited a
madcap, effervescent style he would later make famous in his role as Andy
Hardy, but it lacked the seriousness an actor would require for a career of any
longevity. By the time he signed with MGM in 1934, the fourteen-year-old was
trading as Mickey Rooney.
While he might have arrived at his ‘real’ stage
name by a more tortuous route than normal, Rooney’s self-invention isn’t
exactly unusual in Hollywood. ‘Marilyn Monroe’, for example, is a more
glamorous name than Norma Jeane Mortenson. ‘Judy Garland’ isn’t exactly exotic,
but it’s still light years better than Frances Ethel Gumm. ‘Cary Grant’ has a much
nicer ring to it than Archibald Alexander Leach. Similarly, and for much the
same reason that Michael Fassbender hasn’t felt obliged to change his name,
‘Jamie Foxx’ is far more likely to catch a casting agent’s eye than Eric
Bishop.
There are other reasons for taking on a new
persona. Given the period when he came to prominence, American audiences may
not have empathised to the same degree with Issur Danielovitch as they did with
‘Kirk Douglas’. Simplicity is often the key. If you’re born Ilyena Lydia Vasilevna
Mironov, you might find it easier all round, and certainly cheaper on printer
ink, if you choose to call yourself ‘Helen Mirren’. And even if your parents
are generous enough to lavish the name Thomas Cruise Mapother IV on you as a
baby, it may make more commercial sense to tighten things up to ‘Tom Cruise’.
Then there are those unfortunate aspiring
actors who are labelled from the beginning with an already famous name. The
young Michael Douglas was forced to adopt ‘Michael Keaton’, although the change
doesn’t seem to have damaged his career too badly. Conversely, there are stars
born into the family enterprise who have, nobly, decided not to trade on the
established name. Nicolas Coppola became ‘Nicolas Cage’. The daughter of Jon
Voight, Angelina Jolie Voight dropped the final name in order to succeed on her
own merits.
It’s not always straightforward. Ramón Antonio
Gerardo Estévez called himself ‘Martin Sheen’ when he started out in the movie
business, but when his two sons were bitten by the acting bug they went in
different directions. Emilio Estevez, not wanting to coat-tail his father,
decided he liked his more ethnic-sounding name just fine; Carlos Irwin Estévez,
whose career started a couple of years later, became the more prosaic ‘Charlie
Sheen’.
It makes sense, of course, that people who
spend their lives pretending to be other people would be comfortable with
adopting fake names in whatever passes for their reality. Indeed, it could
hardly be otherwise, given that ‘Hollywood’ itself is an invented name for a
community founded during an 1890s property boom..
And, yes, “Hooray for Nopalera” just doesn’t
have the same ring …
By Declan Burke
By Declan Burke
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