The Stars' Singular Inspiration?

Without Hildegarde, Madonna might have had to achieve icon status as Madonna Ciccone. Cher might have had to take the stage as Mrs. Bono, or even Ms. Sarkisian La Piere.

But perhaps fortunately for them, Hildegarde came first. The cabaret singer, who died Friday in New York City at the age of 99, dropped her surname in the 1930s. The Los Angeles Times declared the former Hildegarde Loretta Sell to be the "first of the single-name stars."

Socrates, Homer and Moses could argue Hildegarde's place in singular name history, but the point is taken: Among celebrities of the mass-media age, Hildegarde popularized the mono-monogram.

"I can't think of anybody before that," said Robert J. Thompson, professor and founding director of the Center for the Study of Popular Television at Syracuse University.

After Hildegarde, there were plenty who, knowingly or not, followed her lead: Cher, Madonna, Sting, Bono, Beck, Beyoncé and Aaliyah, to single out just a handful of the single-named bunch.

To Bruce Goldman, a founding Webmaster of the pulse-taking pop culture site, AmIAnnoying.com, the short-and-sweet stage name makes a certain logistical sense: "It's a lot easier at a concert or a ballgame to yell out a single name."

And, according to Thompson, the single-name name, provided it's the right single-name name, is a surefire attention-getter. "The one thing it always does is communicate a certain degree of attitude," he said. "It is an announcement that you perceive yourself as singular. Who needs a last name if you are Madonna? Or if you're Cher?"

"[But] to simply be Heather or Marie probably wouldn't work."

Suffice to say, Hildegarde worked for Hildegarde. And Hildegarde, in turn, worked it, billing herself as no less than "The Incomparable Hildegarde."

But what exactly did Hildegarde wrought?

"I believe it's very pretentious," Goldman said of the single-named celebrity. "It's sort of like nobody else has the right to that name." (It will be pointed out here that single-name critic Goldman identifies himself only as "Bruce" on his Website. He cops to no pretensions, just security concerns. "The Internet is a dangerous place," he said.)

On the largely civil AmIAnnoying.com, 418 single-named notables, from Francesca, a contestant on a Spanish-style Survivor, to Lucy, the prehistoric hominid, have been subjected to yea or nay votes on their ability to annoy; 294 have been deigned irritants by the majority of voters. (Hildegarde is not listed.)

Goldman, for one, doesn't think the pretentious rap applies to entertainers who go by two names, à la Bruce Springsteen, but are known in the heat of the concert set by just one name, à la "Bruuuce!" ("If it's earned, that's one thing," he said.)

And Thompson, for one, doesn't think single-named rappers, à la Eminem, belong in the same category as Hildegarde. ("Rappers invent the name for themselves," he said.)

What Hildegarde's solo-artist contemporaries think of the state of their names, or their forerunner's legacy is unclear. Requests for comments from Madonna and Cher received no reply Monday. A rep for Tiffany didn't return a call, either.

If Giggles is any indication, however, Hildegarde's influence, or notoriety, among the modern-day singular-named entertainer might be minimal at best.

Giggles is an Oregon-based clown who works everything from birthday parties to pregame festivities at Portland Blazers basketball games. To hear her explain it, clown tradition, as well as her desire to fit her handle onto her license plate, dictated that she be known by just one name. And her upbeat personality dictated that she went by something upbeat, such as Giggles, or her original moniker. ("I used to be Jolly for many, many years," she said, "but there was another clown in the area [Jolly Molly] that decided she didn't want me using any part of her name.")

In short, Hildegarde didn't factor into the name-selection process. "You know," said Marion Zacha, as Giggles is known in the real world, "I'm not familiar with her."

In her heyday, though, Hildegarde was something--"perhaps the most famous supper-club entertainer who ever lived," praised the late and likewise mono-monikered Liberace.

And she did it all with one name tied behind her back.