So ... the name thing ...
You may call me Mark or Marcus. A select few of you, and you know who you are, have been granted dispensation to call me Nonnie, but that dispensation only comes from me.
My birth certificate reads Morris Vishnevetsky. In 1953 my parents legally shortened the family name to Vishner. All the way through college, in school and at work, I was called Morris (after my mother’s deceased favorite uncle). I never allowed anyone to call me Morrie or Moe or Maurice.
At home, among the family, I was called Nonnie. The story is not quite clear as to the origin of that nickname and now all the players are gone. When mean kids in the neighborhood learned my nickname, I was teased about it, so I didn’t use it outside of the family.
After college, I made my way to Los Angeles. At my one and only call from her, the late great casting director Renee Valentee seated below huge photos of James Dean and Marlon Brando, asked me, “Morris Vishner. Don’t you have a middle name or nickname or something?” I told her, “Nonnie.” “Nonnie Morris sounds good,” she said. So I changed my name with the Screen Actors Guild and Actors’ Equity Association.
At about the same time I braved my first visit to the Los Angeles Gay Community Services Center in its original home in an old mansion on Adams Avenue. Seated on the floor in a Coming Out Group I introduced myself as Nonnie. It felt right and truer to who I am than Morris ever did.
There were years of “Donnie?” “No, Nonnie.” “Oh, sorry, Ronnie.” “Nonnie with an N like in never.” “Lonnie?” “Nnnnonnie.” “Oh, that’s cute/interesting/what we called my grandmother.” I use the feminine ending “ie” spelling instead of ending with a “y” which also proved an irritant when misspelled.
After years of auditions as Nonnie Morris (then Nonnie Morris Vishner), finding that I wasn’t teased about my name even in grad school at CalArts, I sent out dozens of resumes seeking a faculty position in theatre anywhere in the country.
What finally precipitated the change to J Marcus Newman was a rejection letter that read, “Dear MS. Vishner, We have carefully reviewed your resume …” I intended to make it clear that I am male and not a Hindu god.
So, I incorporated the most propitious numerology, the calligraphy of a new signature, the desire to still honor my mother’s choice of Morris/Moishe, and still in the Jewish tradition of naming someone after a person who is deceased, I chose J Marcus (after Jake Marcus Reese)
… Newman. new man
I was on a new path and every time I heard my new name I would be reminded of that.
J is not short for anything. The J was needed because there are no loops in Marcus Newman, so for the signature a cursive J has both a spiritual upper loop and a grounding/sensuous lower loop. No period after the J in the first name field: J Marcus.
Then there was the concern about telling my mother. “You’ve been wanting to change your name for a long time. Why should I mind? I changed my name when I got married. It’s your name,” said my mother. She never called me Nonnie again out of respect and love.
Through the California Usage Method of using a name with no attempt to defraud, it was legally mine after five years. I got a new Social Security card just by asking for it and a driver’s license with a better photo!
Once I had those, I changed all the bank accounts, deeds, etc. Surprisingly easy. Before 9/11.
J Marcus Newman at the top of the curriculum vita didn’t get me that faculty job either.
It would seem that my name change effort did not end up simplifying things since the questions persist about what my name is:
Do I call you J? No.
Do you prefer Mark or Marcus? Seems like I use Mark for business and casual introductions. Many of my gay friends and folks in the theatre community call me Marcus. Honestly, now that I don’t think of myself as Nonnie so much anymore, mostly I call myself Mark.
Is that Mark with a k or with a c? With a k – because that’s how Mark Reese spelled his name …
Is that Neu or New?
Like in the department store Neiman Marcus?
I’m still going to call you Nonnie. Is that ok? Since you insist. No!
Well, I guess you could always change it back, right? Frankly, it’s not worth the trouble. No point in making a foolish mistake twice.
