In my recent Chicago Sun-Times column, I noted that Illinois Senate candidate Cheryle Jackson recently amended her name to Cheryle Robinson Jackson.

While she says the move was to honor her family, others say it was for political expediency.

I wrote: “Since a moniker can make or break a politician, there may be other considerations afoot. A couple more theories:

–Robinson Jackson might want to distinguish herself from another Chicago political family: the Rev. Jesse L. Jackson; his son, U.S. Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr., and Jr.’s wife, Ad. Sandi Jackson (7th), who is running for lieutenant governor.

–She wants to capitalize on another famous name: The nation’s first lady’s maiden name also happens to be Robinson. (Jackson is no relation to Michelle Obama).

It’s just the latest example of how Chicago plays the name game. If your name is a mouthful, change it. Ergo, Blago instead of Blagojevich, Alexi rather than Giannoulias.

Chicago Tribune columnist Eric Zorn, raises another curious question for journalists: What name should we honor?

“My general rule of thumb is that, under ordinary circumstances, we should refer to people in the way that they wish to be referred,” Zorn writes.

“Those who stubbornly continued to use the names Cassius Clay,  Lew Alcindor and John Cougar when those men said they’d prefer to be known as  respectively, Muhammad Ali, Kareem Abdul Jabbar and John Mellencamp, were jerks.  After a brief “formerly known as…” period, the transition should be complete.

So I’m OK with  “Robinson Jackson,” even though it may technically   violate the portion of Illinois election law that requires a name on the ballot to reflect names or nicknames “by which the candidate is commonly known.”

The only exceptions I’d make if it were up to me would be in cases where a politician’s requested name change is purely a “message” gambit  and/or patently insincere.”

Zorn cites some examples, and they are real doozies.

It gets even better. Check out Abdon Pallasch, the Sun-Times’ political reporter’s Saturday piece about the machinations employed by Cook County Democratic Party bosses to lock down judgeships for party loyalists. Pallasch reported:

“Here’s who wins judicial elections in Cook County: Women with Irish names. For whatever reason in this county where roughly half the residents are women and 17 percent claim Irish ancestry, women lawyers with Irish names win more than 50 percent of all countywide judicial elections.

That’s why lawyers of Jewish or other ancestry often legally adopt Irish names to run for judge here. That’s why when party leaders slate men without Irish names, such as William Haddad, who would have been the first Arab-American full-circuit judge in Cook County, the party must recruit Irish women lawyers to run as “ringers” or “stalking horses” to flood the ballot and fracture the Irish-woman vote.

The rules are clear for ringers, if unwritten. You do not campaign—not even a sign in your front lawn. Your job is to siphon votes from Irish women candidates really running for judge—not to win, though sometimes that happens, and then you get to be judge. You may be rewarded for your service by being slated for judge in future elections. But you’re not supposed to admit you’re a fake candidate.”

No kidding. Forget about the 2000 presidential election. No one is better at gaming the system—and disenfranchising voters—than the average Cook County party hack.

Despite the bad actors, I agree with Zorn that, in general, we should let candidates use the names they prefer.

However, we may be in a distinct minority. For example, on Sept. 16, most of Chicago’s major news outlets reported the official launch of her campaign, only a Chicago Tribune article by Rick Pearson used her new handle, a Google search shows. “Cheryle Robinson Jackson.”

Stories by Sun-Times’ Pallasch, as well as pieces by Chicago Public Radio, ABC-7, WBBM-780 and Progress Illinois and Associated Press also stuck with her old name.

What’s in a name? What do you think?