My grandfather's name was Frank Hall. I never knew him. He died in an accident years before I was born, but when anybody in the family ever referred to Frank Hall, they were talking about Grandpa and not me. He was "THE" Frank Hall

I was known as "Frankie" in my home town of Bakersfield. But, then I wasn't "THE Frankie" either. That nickname belonged almost exclusively to Frank Sinatra who was just emerging as a Super Star. So, my mother called me, "Frankie Pancho" (she took a course in Spanish to get a promotion at the Southern Pacific Railroad)

In High School I was simply "Frank" but in 1954 when I graduated and matriculated a hundred miles south to the University of Southern California. The Quarterback for the Trojan football team was named Frank Hall. And, he was only a year ahead of me, so, for my entire college tenure when someone asked me if I was "THE Frank Hall", I was forced to say "no." I have to admit I tried to impersonate him a time or two in order to impress some coed, but, my real identity was always discovered to my total humiliation.

In those days it was the custom for Sororities to introduce their new "Pledges" at an event called "Presents." They may still do it for all I know. All the freshmen girls would get "dolled up" in their ball gowns and stand in a receiving line to shake hands with and be ogled by a bunch of goofy Fraternity boys.

During one memorable "Presents Night" I was advancing down the line of young ladies at the Kappa Alpha Theta House, (The "Thetas" were way above my station) when I was introduced to an absolutely gorgeous young lady.

I said, "Hi, I'm Frank Hall"

She said, "Sure, and I'm Jon Arnett" (Jon was the star of the football team.)

I even showed her my driver's license, but she would have none of it. She had met the real Frank Hall. She also knew that fake driver's licenses were as common as bobby pins around the Theta House. I put that in just in case you think Jenna Bush was the first girl ever to doctor her Driver's License.

Finally, and mercifully, THE Frank Hall and I both graduated. The last I heard he owned the Coors distributorship for the San Gabriel Valley. I met him once, years after we graduated – a memorable experience for me but, I'm sure, eminently forgettable for him.

On graduation I entered the banking business as a collector in the bad loans department at Crocker Bank. For two years I used a pseudonym ("Frank Smith"), common practice among "bill collectors" to protect themselves from irate guys whose cars have been repossessed.

When I finally was promoted and given a business card I discovered I still wasn"t "THE Frank Hall" because there was a huge insurance company known as the "Frank B Hall Company." It was so big it was listed on the New York Stock Exchange and you couldn't open Time Magazine without finding a full page ad for the Frank B. Hall Company.

One such ad ran for several years proclaiming, "Frank B. Hall is a Skinflint." Tellers in the branch banks I managed would clip out that ad and post it on the cafeteria bulletin board just before time for their annual evaluations and merit raises.

In 1970 I became a fundraiser for Desert Hospital in Palm Springs, but that didn’t improve things much.

At this point I should mention that my middle initial is "R", not "B". But for 30 years people who introduced my speeches would introduce me as Frank B. Hall. When I pointed out that it was incorrect, they’d sometimes argue with me. It was so subliminally ingrained in their psyche; because of all the ads they'd seen over the years, that they thought my resume contained a typo.

Inevitably when people met me they would say, "Are you THE Frank Hall, I buy your insurance." Some bitched about service they received even after I told them I wasn't THE Frank Hall. They were just happy to have any Frank Hall to complain to.

I moved to Hoag Hospital in Orange County and discovered the company kept a post office box in the Newport Beach Post Office where I also maintained a PO Box for my outside consulting practice, "Frank R. Hall and Associates." Invariably large checks meant for me were delivered to them by mistake. When I confronted the Postmaster, he implied I must be an imposter.

I don't know what happened to the Frank B. Hall Company. I guess I could "Google" them to find out. One day about 15 years ago I checked the Wall Street Journal and they were gone. I hope they didn't go broke leaving a bunch of creditors to pester the rest of us Frank Halls.

About the time the Frank B. Hall Company disappeared I accepted a position with St Jude Medical Center in Fullerton, part of the St. Joseph Health System. By that time I was teaching a lot of classes and making a lot of speeches. One evening at the Annual Awards dinner at the Association for Healthcare Philanthropy's annual conference in Orlando I sat next to a man who asked, "“Are you THE Frank Hall?"

I said, "No."

I'd always said "No" when someone asked me that question.

He said, "You mean you're not the guy with St. Jude in California?"

I said "ALLRIGHT!"

I had finally become THE Frank Hall. It took over 50 years, but, I'd made it.

So, now you understand why I was so excited to learn that none of those other Frank Halls had bothered to take the domain name frankhall.com. So I took it.

Now when people click on frankhall.com, I'm THE Frank Hall