Late last Wednesday I was writing an e-mail to a friend and half-listening to the TV news when I was jolted by a sound that wasn’t pretty. The noise startled me in the same way one starts when hearing a sonic boom or a ‘copter flying overhead — an increasingly common occurrence.
    I had the feeling my Optic colleague, my partner in muckraking, David Giuliani, heard the same sound, even though he lives three miles away.
    So the next morning we talked about it.
    I asked, “Were you listening to the news last night?”
    He answered, “Sure was. Did you hear how a TV reporter butchered ‘Pacheco’?”
    But here I allude not to slaughter- house type evisceration but a linguistic butchering in which the reporter, Kim Holland, referred to a state policeman as “Pu-CHEEK-oh. I told Giuliani that I had immediately fired off an e-mail, the exact text of which follows:

    From: ART TRUJILLO [artbt@rezio.net]
    Sent: Wednesday, December 13, 2006 10:17 PM
    To: Kim Holland
    Subject: Good grief!
    Puh-leeze, Kim, learn to pronounce “Pacheco.” It’s not Puh-CHEEK-oh

    But let’s leave this cheeky matter for a while so I can emphasize my irritation over careless use of Spanish names. You’ve already read my tirades about how the slaughter of the name “Trujillo” rankles. Here’s why: unlike most Spanish names, “Trujillo” gives defilers of the language two opportunities to mess up, with the “j” and the “ll.”
    That’s why we hear from telemarketers, “May I speak with Mr. True-Jillo,” which differs slightly from “True-Hill-o” and “True-Jill-io.” When it comes to “Trujillo,” people need to get the “l” out of there.
    In a way the butchery is a plus; the pronunciation of the name tips me off that it’s an out-of-state telemarketer.
    People with names like Crespin, Mondragon, Padilla, Montano and Jimenez, obviously have winced over variations on their names.
    A childhood friend joined the Marines and was the only Hispanic recruit in his platoon. His friends, unfamiliar with the policy of making the l’s sound like a “y,” found it chic to call him “Gall-eggos.”
    Feeling like a sheik, my friend Fred Leroy soon got used to his new name. And once, when called in for “office hours” by the platoon sergeant — the only other Hispanic in the platoon — he said, “Private Gall-eggos reporting for duty, sir.”
    The hard-as-nails sergeant corrected my friend and invited him to mind his peas and q’s through a two-day assignment of KP.
    Many years ago I was reading a magazine article on this subject. It detailed examples of people, non-Spanish speakers, who not only mispronounce our last names but even correct you, for example, by saying, “It’s CRESS-pin,” not Cres-PEEN,” or “I’ve always pronounced it Mun-DRAGUN.”
    The tongue-in-cheek article explained that a fast way for a last-name-murderer to learn the proper pronunciation of Spanish names would be for that person to enter one of many rough northern New Mexico bars, order up a Hamm’s beer, call everybody “Seenyorr” and inquire about various families by the name of “Mun-DRAGUN,” “True-Jillo” and “Gym-en-uz.”
    Given the tenor of the times, the 50s, the learning would be instantaneous.
    Now, back to Kim Holland:
    If I were to receive any response to my “puh-leeze” e-mail, I was sure it would be something canned, something like, “We thank you for your letter; it’s viewers like you who keep us on our toes.”
    Ha! Kim Holland was loaded for bear. Next morning I got the following message from her:

     Good grief Mr. Trujillo. Please know that Mr. Puh-CHEEK-oh is Not hispanic and does not pronounce his name as typical Hispanics do.
    Kim Holland, KRQE
   

    The closed captioning was on during the newscast, so I double-cheeked the spelling of the policeman’s name: Pacheco. Unless she spoke to the cop and heard him pronounce his own name, how would Kim have known? And what if Kim were simply trying to save face? I doubt whether the name Pacheco (pronounced Kim Holland style) exists in Czech Republic, Chernobyl or even Holland.
    My first year of teaching I noticed the name “Mares” twice on the class roster. Naturally, as I checked roll, I pronounced them both “Ma-res” (two syllables, as in “Oceans.”) A hand went up. It was a Donna Mares from Long Island, who explained that her name is “Mares — it rhymes with Hares.” Donna said her last name never was Hispanic, and no, she wasn’t trying to deny any ethnic heritage.
    And years later, in a class at Luna Community College, the student body president was named Jaime, which he pronounces “HIGH-meh”; he sat next to someone with the same spelling of her name, Jaime, but she pronounced it “JAY-mee.”
    Well, never one to let things drop, I prolonged the dialogue with Kim Holland:
 

    From: ART TRUJILLO [artbt@rezio.net]
    Sent: Thursday, December 14, 2006 2:18 PM
    To: Kim Holland
    Subject: Re: Good grief! — Oops!

    I blew it, Kim. Sorry. I had the same reaction when I heard announcers all over the U.S. referring to the accused terrorist by the name of Padilla. They were pronouncing it PuhDILLa. Naturally, I thought they’d butchered the name.
    The alleged terrorist is Puerto Rican-born. Is that a clue as to how we might render his last name? Maybe it would be best to ask someone to help me. He’s a scholar who’s been president at three major universities, in Houston, Missouri and Arizona, and he’s finishing up as interim president at Highlands.
    Here’s my plan: I’ll call and say, “I’d like some information on the pronunciation of particular last names. May I please speak to Manuel Pu-CHEEK-oh? Yes, I said ‘Pu-CHEEK-oh. I could have said ‘Pa-CHEW-co,’ but I’ll leave that to Kim Holland.”
    And for my impudence, my blatant demonstration of cheek, the receptionist might ask, “And would you like Fries with that phone call?”