If you’re confused about some place names in the Philly region, you should be

Some of its most famous residents have included 76ers star Allen Iverson, Phillies great Chase Utley, soul legend Teddy Pendergrass, and Campbell Soup magnate John Dorrance.

But can you name the mayor of Gladwyne? Or the leaders of Williamstown or Flourtown, Pipersville or King of Prussia, Sicklerville or Browns Mills, or Wallingford?

No? Understandable. Like Wallingford, the setting for the popular HBO miniseries Mare of Easttown, those places have no mayors or any governing bodies of their own, nor do they levy taxes.

Despite their lack of legal standing, they are among the scores of places that evoke a certain geographic familiarity among people in the Philadelphia region.

Yet, how many know much about them at all, or how in the world they ended up with those names?

Philadelphia is well-known for its neighborhood identity tradition (border disputes notwithstanding), but all its residents are City Hall’s subjects.

In the vast acreage outside the city — the seven neighboring counties cover 25 times the area of Philadelphia — the naming situation is considerably more anarchic.

» QUIZ: Can you match these Philly-area places with the towns that govern them?

The region has about 330 municipalities — the things that do actually govern and collect taxes. Many of the place names have colorful histories that predate the incorporation of the more stodgily named local government entities whose borders they inhabit.

(Would you rather be from “Pipersville” or “Plumstead Township”?)

And some predate the government’s entry into the naming game.

In so many instances, their boundaries are wiggly, lapping into multiple municipal jurisdictions, far more states of mind than legal boundaries.

But while they may not be government jurisdictions, more than 150 named areas are classified as U.S. Census Designated Places. Others appear on the far more compendious roster of the U.S. Geological Survey’s Board of Geographic Names.

Still others … it’s hard to know.

The list of Census Designated Places has been compiled by the Census Bureau since 1980 “to provide meaningful statistics for well-known, unincorporated communities,” the agency says.

It adds that such venues should contain “a mix of residential, nonresidential, and commercial uses.”

Famous for its mall and populated with office parks and new residential development, King of Prussia — named for a tavern that in turn was named for the 19th-century Prussian King Frederick the Great — is a classic example. Upper Merion Township has been reaping the harvest of a swelling property tax base.

The Board of Geographic Names was created in 1890 to answer what had become a national burning question: What do we call these things?

Byproducts of exploration and westward expansion in the 19th century were “inconsistencies and contradictions” in the naming and spelling of various geographic features, a headache for surveyors and mapmakers, according to the bureau. Its mission was to keep it all straight.

The bureau’s Domestic Naming Committee, consisting of members of several federal departments, meets monthly to consider naming proposals.

Gladwyne is an example of a location on the naming board’s roster, but not on the Census Designated Places list. Once upon a time, it was called “Merion Square,” but given that it was in an area that was a Merion-a-rama of naming things Merion-this and Merion-that, it became Gladwyne in 1891, And, perhaps not shockingly: It’s in Lower Merion Township.

It has one feature common to many of the places that make the naming board’s list — a post office, which has its own set of naming protocols and which can add a further measure of confusion.

For any number of reasons, geographic confusion is forgivable.

Take Gloucester Township. It is not in Gloucester County, but Camden County, the result of a 19th-century reconfiguring of county boundaries. Similarly, Chester City is not in Chester County, but Delaware County, another example of geographic tinkering.

West Chester really is in Chester County. It has a post office, and its slightly more populous neighbor, West Goshen Township, does not. Thus, some of West Goshen’s residences and businesses end up with West Chester mailing addresses, even though they pay their taxes to West Goshen.

Similarly, in Montgomery County, properties in West Conshohocken and portions of those in Upper Merion Township have Conshohocken addresses since that’s their post office, although they answer to separate governments, and residents pay very different tax rates.

Wayne, a naming board “place” but neither a municipality nor a Census Designated Place, does have a post office. While it is located in Radnor Township’s commercial hub, portions of townships in Chester and Montgomery Counties also have Wayne mailing addresses.

Wayne is in what would be considered the heart of the Main Line, a concept that by the way has no legal standing with the feds.

The Haverford Post Office is on the Main Line, although, naturally, it is not in Haverford Township: It’s in Lower Merion. Haverford is a naming board place name and includes portions of both townships.

“Havertown,” a place recognized by the naming board, is a section of Haverford Township. Haverford College is a Census Designated Place, with the campus acreage shared by Haverford and Lower Merion.

Got that?