Julian Eltinge: Mainstream Songstress

Transgender Sheet Music

Julian Eltinge: Mainstream Songstress

By Ms Bob and Carol Kleinmaier

The end of the 20th Century was a golden age for female impersonation and one of the easiest ways to see it is to look at the popular media. Whether you examine popular music, movies or television, you’ll easily find numerous examples of men in female dress. Interestingly the beginning of the 20th century was also a golden age for gender pretenders. That, too, is reflected in the media, where it was seen on stage in vaudeville, burlesque and musical theatre. Its presence in music is documented by hundreds of pieces of sheet music, whose covers are graced with photos of female and male impersonators.

The large quantity of sheet music produced in this era should come as no surprise. Before the electronic media, before television, recording or even radio, there was sheet music. It was the cheapest way to bring current pop songs into people’s lives. If folks “way back when” wanted music in their homes, someone had to sit down and play it and someone had to sing. Instruments were plentiful. Everything from tubas and trumpets to guitars and ukuleles were available from mail order catalogues. Even pianos were not out of reach for most of the middle class. This created a tremendous demand for sheet music, especially songs for voice and piano.

Music publishers responded with thousands of new songs every year. People heard many of these songs on the stage, be it in town hall, vaudeville, the legitimate theater or even Broadway, and if they liked the song, they went out and bought the sheet music. Acts featuring “he-she’s” and “she-he’s” were as common as monologists, ventriloquists, school acts, boy-girl duos, comedy teams, or blackface. Many of the songs are by well-known composers and lyricists, a testament to the main stream popularity gender impersonation enjoyed. Few people today realize how integral gender impersonation was to American popular entertainment.

Julian Eltinge must have been an astounding impersonator. His professional work was lauded by every writer and artist of the day. The possible exception being W. C. Fields, who took a jaundiced view of so many things. His oft quoted comment was that when Eltinge took the stage, “Women went into ecstasies over him. Men went into the smoking room.” But, it must be remembered that Fields was a well known misogynist and how could a man who denigrated women praise a man who imitates them?

THE FASCINATING WIDOW, from the show of the same name, is the oldest sheet presented here. It was published in 1910, the year the show opened, first in Atlantic City, then New York. The show ran only 56 performances in Manhattan, but it established Eltinge as a star and served him as a touring vehicle until 1914. When he opened this show Eltinge weighed 210 pounds. Being only 5’9″ tall he must have been somewhat substantial around the mid-section Yet he packed his body into “old ironsides,” the name he gave to his corsets, and appeared on stage with a 24″ waist. His normal baritone was raised to a falsetto when he sang and his singing was always highly praised.

Kerry Mills, who composed the music for THE FASCINATING WIDOW, is an excellent example of how gender impersonation was as much a part of show business then as it is now. Mills was a well-known and respected “tin pan alley” composer and music publisher. His hit songs include At a Georgia Campmeeting (1897) and Meet me in St. Louis, Louis (1904), the title song of the Judy Garland movie of the same name. Mills’ contribution to Eltinge’s repertory affirms the main-stream nature of Eltinge’s work.

SWEETHEART is a song from the show Cousin Lucy which opened in Broadway in 1915. It was later made into a silent film, also staring Eltinge. This song was published the year after the show opened in 1916. It might have been something of an in-joke. Al H. Woods, who produced this show, as well as The Fascinating Widow and The Crinoline Girl, had a habit of calling everyone, male or female, ‘sweetheart.” It must have given a Damon Runyon touch to his character.

Some sources cite Jerome Kern as writer of the music for the three act Cousin Lucy. Though he wrote some of the songs, he didn’t write this one. The musical credit here goes to Percy Wenrich. He, like Kerry Mills, was one of the white composers of ragtime songs. And though his name may not be on everyone’s lips today, he is the composer of such turn-of-the-century classics as Put on Your Old Gray Bonnet (1909) and When You Wore a Tulip and I Wore a Big Red Rose (1914) — big favorites on George Burns’ hit parade.

FRIENDS was published in 1919. The line below the title says “Successfully introduced by Julian Eltinge.” Eltinge was doing a good bit of vaudeville performing in 1918 and 1919. In 1918 he performed an 18 minute piece at the Palace Theatre, which was considered the Valhalla of all vaudeville variety theaters throughout the world. A year later he created his own show, Eltinge’s Revue, in which he did a series of four female impersonations. It is likely that this song is from one of those two vaudeville shows.

The most noteworthy name here is not the composer, Joseph H. Santly, but one of the two lyricists George W. Meyer. The other was Howard Johnson. Meyer was a one time secretary and even director of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers, commonly called ASCAP. He was a composer as well. Some of his songs are locked in the past, such as Everything is Peaches Down in Georgia. But, like Kerry Mills, one of his songs was revived and became the hit of a 1940’s movie, For Me and My Gal, which, coincidentally also starred Judy Garland.

But, the most interesting thing about this song is the final chorus. After going through all kinds of friends; those who are false to those from childhood, FRIENDS ends:

To lose a good friend causes us great sorrow,
And we all lost one not long ago,
A real true blue friend to his great nation,
All the whole world loves him so.

‘Way up in Heaven ‘mid the songs of angels,
His flying boy met his dear old Dad,
Good-bye old Rough and Ready,
We’ll miss you Teddy, you’re the best friend we’ve ever had.

Picture Eltinge — who always asserted his virility and circulated stories about beating-up stage hands and drunks who slandered his manliness — paying tribute to Theodore Roosevelt. Roosevelt was “bully,” the hero of the Battle of San Juan Hill, who indulged in all truly manly endeavors from big game hunting in Africa to supporting the Boy Scouts. Imagine Eltinge in full drag singing his own version of Hail to the Chief. Who could doubt Julian’s virility then? Who could miss the machismo peeking out between the sequins and bangle beads?

These few examples are only the tip of the sheet music iceberg. Eltinge’s image alone probably appeared on dozens of additional songs. Average Americans bought them, performed them and put them put them on their pianos. The names of the stars, composers and lyricists were as well known to them as the stars of La Cage Aux Folles are to us. In its golden eras impersonation flows into the mainstream. It was there in the beginning of the 20th century and was again at that century’s end.

This article originally appeared in TGF in 1997. It has been updated slightly to include 21st century references.

Tags: drag, featured, History, impersonation

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment, Transgender History