Do you know me?
What I mean is, do you know my name? When you see me, unexpectedly at a restaurant or a bar, do you call out my name? And if so, what name do you call out? Arnel? Arnelly? Nelly? Scott? Scooter? Scoots? Scootie Pie? Ernie? Chili? I've answered to all of those names, and then some.
Names are interesting things -- fascinating, really. It was Shakespeare in "Romeo & Juliet" who famously asked, "What's in a name?"
Well, a LOT, I say.
If you knew me before 2000, chances are you knew me as "Scooter." If you were family, you might have also called me "Scott." But if you knew me after 2000, chances are you know me as "Arnel" -- unless you were introduced to me by someone who knew me before 2000, in which case you'd know me as... well, you get the picture.
My name is Scott Arnel Salvatierra, and this is the story of my names, the story of how my name is related to The Star Spangled Banner, how I've been compared to a Muppet (more than once), and how I've been mistaken for a murderer.
I was born in Chicago many years ago, and it's important to know that I was born in July, not January. My (slightly older) cousin, on the other hand was born in January. He was also named Scott, and because he was born six months before me, he was the first Scott in our family. This, of course, would come to cause some confusion at family gatherings.
And more than confusion, it nearly caused a feud.
Chalk it up to stubborn parents, but my aunt and uncle refused to call me Scott because, obviously, their son was the first Scott. Now, mind you, they didn't actually declare out loud that they wouldn't call me Scott. Instead, they would just refer to me as "the baby." (As in, "Here, I'll hold the baby if you want to look through the pictures we took last week of Scott.") And according to my Mom, my aunt and uncle would even sometimes refer to me as "Boy," (As in, "Is Boy able to crawl yet? Because Scott was crawling by his age.") because my parents didn't name me until a few days after I was born and the name tag on my crib in the hospital said "Boy Salvatierra."
My parents eventually named me Scott Arnel. My dad is huge fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald and "The Great Gastby" and I was named after the famous author. (I would later learn in high school American Lit that F. Scott Fitzgerald's full name is Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald and that he was named after his cousin Francis Scott Key -- who, of course, wrote The Star Spangled Banner.)
Where "Arnel" came from is a little less clear and it depends on if you ask my dad or my mom. My dad says that "Arnel" means "noble eagle" (or something like that) and that it was chosen as my middle name to commemorate the first in our family to be born in America. My mother, on the other hand, says that "Arnel" is a semi common name in the Philippines, and they liked that it was an uncommon name in America.
But back to the feud...
It would be Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, our next door neighbors, that would end up saving the day. At some point, Mrs. Stevens started calling me "Scooter," which, she told my unknowing immigrant mother, was the most common nickname of affection for boys named Scott. As far back as I can remember, I was called both Scott and Scooter by my family.
Coming from a tropical climate in the Philippines, my parents were able to stand exactly one winter in Chicago before they decided to move out to sunny Los Angeles when I was one year old. And then when I was 8 years old and in the 3rd grade, my parents bought a house and we moved to Huntington Beach in Orange County. In pre-school and all the way up through high school, all of the teachers and my classmates would just call me Scooter.
Riki was my girlfriend in kindergarten. This is us rollerskating. (I'm on the left.)In the 4th grade, there was a new kid, and his name was Marty Lesperance. I remember that he was a really nice kid and a pretty down-to-Earth guy (for a nine year old). But one day (when I was wearing a shirt with horizontal stripes) he was looking at me and had an epiphany.
"Oh my God! You know who you look like?! You look like Ernie!!"
"Who?"
"Ernie! You know... Bert and Ernie!! From Sesame Street!!"
Funny thing is, Marty actually got me believing that I looked like Ernie. I mean, I had to admit, there were certain similarities I couldn't deny: I had black hair and Ernie had black hair. I had brown skin and Ernie had... orange skin? Well, whatever -- Ernie wasn't white, so... you know... we had that in common.
It's hard to deny the similarities, I know. (That's me on the left, in case you can't tell...)Marty tried really hard to get "Ernie" to catch on, and for about a year he got two or three other guys to give it a try. But in the end it didn't really stick. I think it was a hard sell, especially to the girls. They'd ask Marty why he was calling me Ernie and he'd say, "Because he looks like Ernie! You know... from Sesame Street?" And the girls would look at me and then turn to Marty and say, "You're a dumb ass. He doesn't look anything like Ernie."
From Marla (aka Muffin). "Scootie Pie and Muffin." Don't you just love how creative 16 year olds can be?Later on, in high school, my best friend, Terry McKierrnan, had a job at a Mobile gas station. As part of the uniform, they all wore the old school periwinkle jumpsuits that gas station attendants were known for in the 50s and 60s. They even had oval name patches with 50s style sounding nicknames like "Biff" and "Skip." Well, Terry took my name into consideration when he choose what name would be on his jumpsuit and he had "Skeeter" embroidered on his patch. So for the last couple of years of high school, all of our friends (that is, the other popular cool kids) would refer to us as Skeeter and Scooter -- And that was just swell.
In the back of my mind, I knew that (or rather, I thought that) I'd eventually outgrow the name "Scooter." I think that I expected to be called "Scott" once I joined the workforce (ie adulthood). But it ended up that my first job was as a lifeguard -- and you gotta admit, "Scooter" and "lifeguard" just kinda of fits together nicely.
It's amusing to me now, but the very first paycheck I ever received was made out to "Scooter," and I think I still have a box in storage somewhere filled with "Scooter" printed and embroidered on all my lifeguard uniforms and gear.
Growing up in southern California, it's no surprise that I eventually transitioned into working in the film and television entertainment industry. I got my break, and my first job in film/TV post-production, through Cyndi Andrew. We had previously lifeguarded together and over the years had become great friends. As a consequence, she ended up introducing me to everyone she knew in the industry as Scooter. It was beginning to look like I wasn't going to be able to escape being called "Scooter."
Cyndi and Scooter, at her wedding (not mine) in North Hollywood, 1993.After several years of successfully climbing the ladder in the film/TV industry, I decided to follow my passion for food and wine and make a career change. My passion for cooking grew exponentially in those first couple of years, and I learned a lot. My hunger for knowledge and experience for all things food, wine, and cooking was insatiable, and I quickly realized that if I wanted to become a chef, I needed a formal education in food, cooking, and wine. I needed to go to culinary school.
At the time, I was still going by Scooter. But what, earlier, was a perfect name for a lifeguard, now seemed inappropriate as a future chef. The prospect of being called "Chef Scooter" seemed ridiculous to me. Melanie, a girl I was seeing at the time, used to say, "I think that a lot of people immediately think of Scooter the Muppet when they first hear your name. I know I did."
Again, with the damn Muppets!But "Chef Scott" didn't really seem very inspiring to me. In a word, I just thought it was too plain -- as if the very sound of it might get lost in the crowd. It was the late 1990s, and The Food Network was making Emeril, Wolfgang, and Ming distinctive household first names.
"No," I thought, "I need to set myself apart and start using my middle name."
The idea of using "Arnel Salvatierra" as my name actually came a decade earlier on October 19, 1990. I had just been in a near fatal car accident, and in the newspaper there was a picture of me being "extracted" from the car at the crash site. The photo caption incorrectly listed my name as "Arnel Salvatierra." They had copied my name from the police report which had listed my first name as "Scott" and my last name as "Arnel Salvatierra." I remember reading it and thinking, "Hmmm, how odd to be called by another name..."
Can you see me? That's me on the stretcher with a compound fracture, concussion, and multiple lacerations.So when I started at The Culinary Institute of America, I started using "Arnel" as my first name. It was the year 2000, and I was 32 years old, embarking on a new career. It was a surprisingly easy transition because the school was 3,000 miles away from southern California in Hyde Park, New York, and no one new me there. The fact that it was embroidered on all of my chef jackets not only made it easier (you didn't have to even introduce yourself, everyone just read your name on your jacket), but it made it seem more official.
Everyone at the CIA accepted that my name was Arnel. But a few weeks into school, it came out that my nickname was Scooter because Melanie or my parents would call and ask, and leave messages, for Scooter. A few of my classmates would occasionally call me Scooter, but for the most part I was able to stick with Arnel.
But almost immediately, I started to realize problems with with name "Arnel Salvatierra." First of all, although it's distinctive, it's also not easy to remember the first time you hear it. During an introduction, I almost always have to repeat it. The problem gets worse if the introduction is at a loud bar or party or if it's anytime people are drinking.
I'd have to guess that about 80 or 90% of people don't remember the name after five minutes. It was common for me to overhear someone whispering, "What's his name again?" Or if they kind of remember my name, it gets butchered in the recall. After being introduced to someone a few minutes earlier, "Arnel" would somehow get transformed into "Darnell," "Parnell," "Arnold," or -- the one I hated the most -- "Yarnell."
"Shields & Yarnell" was a duo of mimes who frequently made made guests appearances on talk shows and variety shows. They eventually got their own ridiculous variety show in the mid-1970s.One of the funniest discombobulations of "Arnel" happened when I started working at Domaine Chandon. Jorge, one of the servers, couldn't quite remember my name. "What's the new guy's name again? Hormel??" Everyone busted up laughing, and after that, my nickname in the restaurant was "Chili."
But in the past few years, the biggest pain in the ass about using "Arnel Salvatierra" as my name is the most interesting (and the most perplexing).
Apparently, in the 1980s, there was another "Arnel Salvatierra" that became infamous for killing his father. Like me, he was Filipino (but not born in the United States), and like me, he lived in southern California (but in Glendale in Los Angeles County, not in Huntington Beach in Orange County).
The first time I became aware of this evil twin was back in culinary school around 2001. Josh, my roommate, told me that he had seen something on TV the night before and they mentioned my name. We laughed about it, but he thought it was the coolest thing that there was someone in prison with my name.
Now fast-forward to 2006.
Between 2001 and 2006, the Internet came of age, and Googling people you knew became a common occurrence. And if you Googled "Arnel Salvatierra," you would see a bunch of food and wine related stuff (ie. ME), and you'd see a bunch of news articles about the guy who killed his father (ie. the evil twin). And if you dug down a few pages on the search results, you'd also see a few other "Arnel Salvatierras" from around the world.
Now, while I'm obviously not the other guy who killed his father, that fact might not be that obvious to someone I've just met and doesn't know me at all. You can see the obvious problems this can cause (especially if I'm, oh let's say, at a party and chatting up a girl holding an iPhone in her hand).
But here's the rub...
The most bizarre thing about the whole identity mix-up is that even close friends and co-workers were starting to believe that (or at least wonder if) I was the evil twin!
And what's insidious is that rumors were beginning to spread but no one was confronting me or asking me about it!
There was one day that I walked into work at La Toque and I walked up to one of the computer terminals to clock in. But instead of the usual POS screen, a browser window had been opened and someone had pulled up one of the evil twin articles. I imagine that one of my co-workers had Googled me, and came to work and showed a bunch of other people what they had found. I clocked in and waited for someone to ask me about it...
Incredibly, no one ever brought it up.
On another occasion, I was having dinner with Jane, and the subject of my name came up. I explained to her that "Arnel" was actually my middle name, and I amusingly told her about the evil twin who had the same name. A serious look came over her face.
"You know, I didn't want to bring it up, but I heard that about you."
As it turns out, Jane's roommate was a gossipy former co-worker from Domaine Chandon and she had maliciously been spreading this rumor about me!
The last straw came a couple of months ago. I had been participating in a heated online discussion on Facebook about food trucks and restaurants in Napa. The administrator of the page didn't like / agree with my position and posted this:
"...for those of you with a couple of minutes to spare stick Arnel’s full name into Google and have a read of the 'substantiated' story at the top of the feed. Is this you Arnel because if it is you have a very colorful history?"
Can you FUCKING believe that?!
I composed a long letter of response that included the following:
"What is so saddening about your personal attack is that it had absolutely no bearing on the issues at hand. It comes across as a desperate attempt to derail the conversation by casting attention on my supposed past.
I consider that saddening, but what I find downright abhorrent is the fact that you are now attempting to fuel rumors about me, my character, and my past. And what for? Because you don't like the fact that I called for reason over rumor? You would let that difference of opinion be your motivation for publicly insinuating that I am a murderer??
I can only repeat that I'm shocked and saddened by this.
But for the record, let me publicly deny that I have not killed my father (or any other person, for that matter). Both of my parents are alive and well (well, actually, my father is battling diabetes and diverticulitis -- but at least he's alive). My parents have visited the Napa Valley several times in the 7 1/2 years I've lived here. Many of my friends have met them, there are pictures of them on my Facebook page, and they have dined at the Napa Valley restaurants in which I have worked as a restaurant manager and sommelier.
Speaking of my work experience, two of the restaurants I have previously managed are etoile (aka The Restaurant At Domaine Chandon) and The Fairmont Sonoma Mission Inn. Because they are larger corporations, they require a full background check before being hired.
Despite the background checks and other restaurant employees having met my parents, rumors continue to circulate that I am a murderer. So, no, this is not the first time someone has Googled my name and this is not the first time I've had to deal with this. Usually, the rumor is whispered behind my back and I'm never confronted with it; consequently, I rarely have to opportunity to refute the allegation.
On the rare occasion that I do have an opportunity to address this rumor, I usually start with the question, "How many people in the world have the same name that YOU do?" As unique as "Arnel Salvatierra" may seem, in a world with 6.77 billion people, I can assure you that there are a bunch of other people with the same name. Type the name into Facebook, and you'll find four of them. Type the name into Google (as you directed the public to do) and if you look at several of the pages of results (not just the top, as you directed the public to do), you'll find even more. Click on Google Images and you'll even see pictures of them (along with some of mine).
So, no, I didn't kill anyone. And, yes, someone else has the same name that I do. If you, or anyone else for that matter, would like to run your own background check, I will happily provide my social security number for that purpose.
At this point, I don't think that I'm out of line by asking for your apology here. I also think that the responsible thing for you to do is remove that posted comment directing people to Google my name. And as the administrator of this page, and as someone who has posted defamatory, libelous speech I would also like to know your identity."
Crazy, right??
Anyway, I've been contemplating going back to using "Scott" and "Scooter" as my name for a few years, but I guess I've resisted because I've built up my reputation in the food and wine community as "Arnel."
I've also delayed because at La Toque, the wine director's name was Scott Tracy. And at Brick & Bottle, the original general manager was named Scott, and the chef's name is Scott Howard (what a nightmare that would have been to have three Scotts in management positions!). This goes right back to my earlier point that "Scott" is a pretty common name and not all that distinctive.
Also, I know how tough it is for people to disassociate you from a name that they are used to. Those who have always known me as "Scooter" always say things like, "That's weird... I can't call you 'Arnel.' You're not an 'Arnel' -- you're definitely a 'Scooter.'" And, of course, those who know me as "Arnel" say the exact opposite and think it's weird to call me "Scott" or "Scooter."
But a couple of weeks ago (after the aforementioned last straw), I finally bit the bullet and posted on Facebook, "Scooter's back!" I was really surprised to see how happy some people were that I was going back to my old name!
So, there you have it... The many stories of my names. Ultimately, whatever you decide to call me -- I'm still the same guy who loves food, wine, women, and video games (and still the same guy who hates vegetarians, mornings, and religion).
Lastly, you should know that I considered changing my name to something completely different. I mean, if I'm going to go to the trouble of making the transition, why not just choose something totally cool and badass?
Thor "God of Thunder" Salvatierra
