Before the rise of radio and movies, vaudeville was the most popular form of
mass entertainment in the United States. From the late 19th century to the
1920s, networks of theaters in different cities would book a variety of acts
that toured together as a show. The skits included singers, dancers,
magicians, and comedians. But a vaudeville show was considered incomplete
without one or two female impersonators, the most successful of whom were
gay men.
Probably the greatest
female impersonator of the vaudeville era was Julian Eltinge (1883-1941),
born William Julian Dalton near Boston. He first entertained in drag at age
10, when he appeared in a local musical revue. Eltinge went on the
vaudeville circuit in 1906, wowing audiences with a sketch called “The
Sampson Girl”—based on the Gibson Girl, a willowy, ultrafeminine vision
of American womanhood made popular by magazine illustrator Charles Dana
Gibson. Eltinge was known for his choice of tasteful, fashionable attire and
for including in his repertoire ideal types like “The Bathing Beauty,”
“The Bride,” and “The Little Girl.” He also occasionally portrayed
historical figures like Salome.
By 1912, Eltinge was
the highest paid act in vaudeville, earning $1,600 a week; that same year, a
Broadway producer named a theater on New York’s 42nd Street in his honor
(it’s now part of a multiplex called the Empire). Critics and audiences
alike were mesmerized by his ability to walk, speak, and sing so
convincingly like a woman. While other female impersonators simply parodied
women, Eltinge attempted to transform himself. In a 1909 interview, he
disclosed that it took him two hours to “become” a woman. “It depends
on where you put the paint,” he explained, “not how much you splash
on.” Before each performance, Eltinge’s Japanese male dresser corseted
his normally 38-inch waist to a svelte 24 inches.
The RuPaul of his day,
Eltinge endorsed women’s cosmetics and corsets and even had his own brand
of cold cream. His vaudeville fame also brought him roles in the legitimate
theater and in 15 Hollywood movies. One of these films, An Adventuress
(1916; later reissued as The Isle of Love), starred Rudolph Valentino, who
was rumored to have been Eltinge’s offscreen lover. After the Italian
star’s untimely death in 1926, rumors circulated in the drag world that
Eltinge was the mysterious veiled Lady in Black who brought roses every year
to Valentino’s grave.
Eltinge, however,
always denied insinuations about his sexuality. “I just like pearls,” he
explained of his cross-dressing penchant. To compensate for gossip—which
was fueled by the fact that he lived with his mother and never married—Eltinge
purposely butched it up offstage. He was known for getting into fistfights,
beating up stagehands and fellow vaudevillians who dared to question his
masculinity.
With the end of the
vaudeville era, Eltinge’s career and fortune slipped into decline. Before
his death from a cerebral hemorrhage in 1941, he suffered from numerous
health problems related to his career, including kidney ailments caused by
years of being cinched into tight corsets.
Second only to Eltinge
in the vaudeville world was Bert Savoy (1888-1923), who was born Everett
McKenzie in Boston. Savoy got his start singing in a chorus, then launched
his solo drag career in the saloons of the West. In the 1910s, he came back
east and teamed up professionally and privately with handsome Jay Brennan
(1882-1961), who had once been a female impersonator, too, but now took the
role of Savoy’s “straight” man.
Unlike the prim, proper
“Sampson Girl,” Savoy’s drag persona—although as elegantly attired
as Eltinge’s—was an over-the-top character who flirted outrageously,
shook her hips, and dished the dirt. Drag lore has it that Mae West borrowed
Savoy’s walk and adapted one of his coquettish lines—”You must come
over!”—to her signature “Come over and see me some time.” Savoy
credited much of his success to his ability to listen to and learn from his
female fans. “They write or telephone me with little feminine things,”
he once said, explaining that he often turned the women’s ideas into
naughty gags for his act.
Probably because he was
as effeminate offstage as on—he camped it up and always referred to men as
“she”—Savoy entered briefly into a marriage of convenience to hide his
homosexuality. The marriage ended in 1922, however, when the woman emptied
out their bank account and left town.
The following year, at the pinnacle of his fame,
Savoy was killed by lightning in an accident on a New York beach. Legend has
it that, immediately before being struck, Savoy heard a clap of thunder and
exclaimed to Brennan and their companions, “Mercy, ain’t Miss God cuttin’
up something awful!” The next day, Harpo Marx was said to have recalled,
“All the pansies at Coney Island were wearing lightning rods.”