In the end, it turned out the committee’s only easy job was its first motion. Out went the names of all states that weren’t English names.
That took care of all the Spanish names, like California and Florida, and a swarm of Indian names, like Illinois, Michigan and Arkansas. The one French name, Vermont, went too, along with Hawaii, the only name of Polynesian origin. That left New York, New Hampshire, Maine, Washington, and Maryland. Rhode Island was admitted to the English origin group grudgingly while New Jersey, excluded for a quasi-French origin, was quickly dubbed “Meadowland.” And it was finally decided to leave Indiana alone. “Let’ em have one,” was the unpublished reasoning.
But following the provisions of the new “English as an Official Language Law” were more difficult when it came to coming up with replacements for the rest of the union.
Finding substitutes for the Latin names were relatively simple: Pennsylvania became Penn’s Woods, the original meaning. North and South Carolina quickly were designed North and South Caroline. Georgia was likewise renamed the state of George. It got trickier for Virginia and West Virginia when the thought of “Entering the State of Virgin” as a sign on bridges across the Potomac, were a bit to humorous. In the end, a promise of state aid for schools persuaded other regions of Virginia to go for Tidewater. West Virginia opted for the Mountain State, over the protests of the former Colorado (which shunned the idea of a straight translation to “The Colored State” and picked “Vail-Aspen.”)
Commercial interests converted Michigan to the grand “State of Ford.” But more states took an environmental route so that Arizona became Canyon; Montana was Glacier; Utah, Salt Lake; and Kentucky, Blue Grass. New Mexico became Desert and when California was split into two, while the northern part was now the state of Freeway, the lower part was renamed New Mexico (that proposal was to be worked out in the final amendment to the law, along with the Indiana decision), which seemed to better reflect the area’s population.
Towns had to change too—particularly in California, whose map sported names such as the Angels, St. James, and St. Francis. “It was fortunate the state at least had Oakland and Bakersfield,” was one comment. Other major towns needed work.
Translation didn’t work for Chicago, whose name originally meant something like a place with skunks. “The Loop” was adopted and few residents noticed the difference.
New England fared well, with towns like Boston, Quincy, Chatham and the like, in no need of new maps.
All and all, the committee noted in its final minutes, it was a prodigious efforts, but highly satisfying in complying with wishes of the people of the United States of English.
Oh, yes. In its final meeting, it was noted that America stemmed from “Americus Vespucci.”
“We don’t want to be named for some damned Italian,” said one resident of Plains (formerly Kansas), in a sentiment that carried the day.
