such as me provided one wishes to preserve a good reputation. But I did
not have the means to go, nor anything I could give my parents as a
pretext. After the last terrible repulse, I left my cousin alone. But I
was still frequently driven late at night to wander about the village,
hoping to find some man in a thoroughly intoxicated condition, but many,
many weary hours were thus spent in a vain search.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _First Soldier Companion._]
I now learned that a detachment of light artillery, stationed at a fort
near New York City, who were out on a practice march, would camp in a
neighboring town. This news enchanted me, and I informed my parents that
I was going off for a trip afoot for a few days, of course not making
known my motive. Though a nervous wreck, I was at the time able to walk
twenty miles a day.
I reached the camp toward sunset. With other civilians, I lingered
around until late in the evening. I tried to enter into conversation
with the young soldiers, who fascinated me, but could not overcome my
bashfulness. Finally, after most of them had retired, I left the camp,
and started off to seek lodging for the night. But on the way I
unexpectedly met a tall soldier of imposing appearance, and by a great
effort of the will, I stepped up, walked along by his side, and entered
into conversation.
When from his words and manner I judged that he was kind-hearted and
would not take advantage of my own unfortunate position in society, I
threw off the role of a male, and gave full swing to the feminine side
of my nature. My long enforced abstinence had driven me wild, and I now
poured out hot protestations of love and adoration. Finding that they
were received sympathetically, I threw myself into his arms, clasped my
hands around his neck, and wept for happiness. The effect on me of the
soldier’s charms was beyond description. His face and head seemed to be
surrounded with a halo of glory. There was an air about him so careless,
so sensual, so brave, so manly, and yet so kind. I called him by all the
names which love can invent in order to deify its object. He however
soon had to retire to the camp, and left me heartsick.
[Sidenote: _First Arrest._]
I again started toward town, and soon met another soldier, who happened
to be in a maudlin condition. Because of this, I thought I had nothing
to fear, and accosted him in such a way as to disclose my nature
immediately without first sounding to see if he was of a compassionate
nature. Though not at all offended, but laughing at what he considered
an amusing experience, and expressing his willingness, he demanded five
dollars, and said that unless I handed it over, he would take me before
the captain of his company. This was said merely to frighten me, but in
my greenness, I fully believed he would do it. Thoroughly alarmed, I
started off on a run. The soldier staggered after, crying, “Catch him!
Catch him!” In a moment there were three other soldiers and a constable
in pursuit. I was caught, the constable took me in hand, and asked what
it was all about. Before any one else could reply, I addressed the five
supplicatingly:
“I am ashamed to tell it, but I am an urning.[4] I simply asked this
soldier to do me a favor, to which he certainly did not object, because
he only laughed. I have not done anything to him wrong or criminal. I
only proposed something, and then he said he would take me before his
captain unless I paid him five dollars. I became frightened and ran
away. I pray you, have mercy on me, and let me go. If you knew what a
sad life I have had, you would feel sorry for me. I have felt like
committing suicide a thousand times. I am not willingly what I am. It is
my misfortune and not my fault that I am an urning. If you are ever
capable of compassion, let my fate move you to pity. Please let me go
and don’t arrest me!”
Footnote 4:
Term misapplied.
[Sidenote: _Reflections in Jail._]
The soldiers soon went on their way, and the constable conducted me in
the direction of the lockup. He acted toward me as if I was a low
criminal, while I continued to supplicate him to let me go. As we came
nearer the lockup, in my highly excited condition over the fear of
disgracing my family, who lived only four miles away, and the prospect
that if my secret was disclosed, I could never see any of my loved ones
again, I thoughtlessly declared I would not go any farther, which caused
him to rap my head with his club.
I was locked up for the night. Through nervous shock, I did not sleep a
wink. Only to the few is it given ever to taste such a night of misery
as I passed. “I, whom all think the purest and most pious of men, being
arrested!” I meditated. “I, the last one whom anybody would have
expected ever to be arrested! But God’s will be done.... Am I to be the
one to disgrace my family? Hitherto I have been the scholar, the
litterateur, the only collegian of my father’s family, and have by my
achievements in learning brought the most honor on my father’s house of
all his children. I shall also be the one to bring the deepest disgrace
upon it.”
[Sidenote: _Chronic Fear of Arrest._]
The following morning I was sentenced to three days in the lockup. As
the village of my incarceration was only four miles from my home, and I
was known at least by sight to some of its inhabitants, my father
evidently soon learned of my disgrace, notwithstanding that I had sought
to conceal my identity. Although he never mentioned the episode, he soon
began to treat me regularly with extreme bitterness, as if he wished I
had never been born. I was the only one of his children to whom he
manifested any such spirit, notwithstanding I was the brightest of them.
Throughout an entire decade subsequent to this episode, I had an
unreasonable nervousness about arrest and about policemen. Whenever any
one whose name was unfamiliar was announced as waiting to see me, my
first thought and fear were that a policeman had come to arrest me.
Whenever any one called me up on the telephone, I always feared that it
was in connection with my forthcoming arrest.
A few days after being restored to liberty, I informed my parents of my
intention to go off on another trip afoot, this time for a couple of
weeks. My secret object was to mingle with this detachment of troops,
whom I knew to be encamped for some weeks about two days’ easy journey
on foot from my home. That just described was my first experience with
soldiers, and I had become fascinated as never before. All my reveries
were now to relinquish the career of a scholar and become a sutler near
some fort in the wild west so that I could mingle daily with these
demigods, whom I most abjectly worshipped. I was in misery because my
lot in life separated me from these ferocious young men.
[Sidenote: _Soldiers Are Demigods._]
I look upon a youthful professional soldier as a most wonderful being,
different from all other human beings. There seems to be a sort of
enchantment about him. Merely the process of enlistment, the donning of
the uniform, and the acquiring of skill in handling the weapons of
warfare make a demigod out of the young man, as your author looks upon
it. When a newspaper item states that a trainload of _regular_ soldiers
passed through a certain town, I reflect with a thrill on what a
wonderful burden that train bore, and experience a sense of pain that I
could not be along and make known the adoration I feel. Ever since this
my first encounter with regular soldiers, I have wished for omnipresence
with the men of the regular army. Privates, corporals, and sergeants are
men after my own heart. I was never attracted toward commissioned
officers, and they have appeared to me as being less manly than the
classes named. Perhaps my predilection is due to the fact that the
commissioned officers are as a rule intellectual like myself.
Subsequently to my reaching the age of twenty-five, regular soldiers
have been practically the only young men to whom I have been strongly
attracted. After that age I found it easy to relinquish coquetry with
all other young men. Now (1918) when I have arrived at my middle
forties, I pine alone not to be able longer—on account of my age—to
mingle with regular soldiers as a mignon. As Ophelia with Othello, I
love them and adore them for the dangers they have passed through, as
well as those attached to their vocation. Furthermore, in man’s natural
state, fighting—next to procreating—is the pre-eminent function of the
male. For this reason the war-loving man is my sexual ideal.
[Sidenote: _Music Overwhelms._]
Arrived a short distance from the camp, I, for only the second time in
my life, caught the thrilling notes of the bugle-call. It took all the
strength out of my legs so that I felt as if I would fall to the ground.
Since I began to associate with soldiers, the notes of the bugle have
had an unearthly—I might say, an eternal, overwhelming—beauty.
Subsequently to 1905, when my open career as a soldiers’ mignon became a
thing of the past, the bugle-call has made me live that career over
again in a few moments. It brings up fond memories of the many evenings
spent in the long, long ago with the “mighty men of war.” It fills my
soul with adoration for these “mighty men of valor,” these “mighty men
of renown.” I have sometimes been seized with a babyish cooing or
gasping, and have ardently wished that I were youthful again and in the
arms of one of these wonderful beings.
The effect on me of secular music in general has been to arouse reveries
of my amours and paramours. I have been an unusual lover and patron of
grand opera, the soprano and alto solos having an overwhelming effect
particularly (because that is the manner in which I would have wished to
sing). I have often been raised into sublime heights of ecstasy,
generally with a sensual tinge.
Arrived at the camp, I strolled about and was soon recognized: “Hello
Pretty! Where did you come from?” Filled with bliss, and thrown into my
most babyish and effeminate mood, I responded: “You adorable
artilleryman, I was pining for you, and followed you here from X——.” He
told me to meet him outside the camp after retreat, when he appeared
with several comrades. I was in ecstasy on this first walk of my life on
a country road with a party of bewitching adolescent soldiers as
daylight was fast fading into darkness. In my years of subsequent
association with soldiers, I found that those over twenty-five years of
age were in general disinclined to talk with me. They appeared to have
been already satiated with flirtation, while numerous youngsters were
desirous of a frolic with me.
[Sidenote: _Milites Easiest of Conquests._]
Havelock Ellis says: “The homosexual tendency appears to have flourished
chiefly among warriors and warlike peoples.” In another place he says:
“I have been told by medical men in India that it is specially common
among the Sikhs, the finest soldier-race in India.” I have myself found
adolescent professional soldiers the easiest of conquests and the most
inclined of any class of men to take the virile part with me. I speak
from experience in flirtation with at least two thousand different
professional soldiers, only about four hundred of whom, however, went to
extremes. I saw not the least tendency toward homosexuality amongst
themselves, although I frequented to some extent their barracks and even
their bunks. They are only capable of taking the virile part with an
individual like your author. In general the common soldiers of the
regular army are particularly rough, coarse-grained, vigorous, and
sensual men, constituting physically the best blood of the race. As
already indicated, practically all civilians who were intimate with me
were of this same type, and there appears to be some connection between
tremendous virility and active homosexuality. Furthermore, along with
this ultra-virility of the professional common soldier, he is almost
entirely shut off from the gentle sex, whereas the young civilian of the
laboring classes has usually an acquaintance who gladly yields as his
mistress. Of course many of the nation’s fighters have a natural
distaste. As just indicated, only about one in five with whom I
coquetted went to extremes, while about fifty per cent. of those who
knew me by sight would never even speak to me. But the line of cleavage
did not at all correspond with that between the religious or
conscientious and the vicious. It was a matter as much outside the
province of ethics as is vegetarianism.
[Sidenote: _Actives Are Ultravirile._]
Moreover, soldiers lead comparatively idle lives, and also monotonous
lives, and these two conditions add to their susceptibility to the wiles
of a fairie. A bright and facile fairie is capable of furnishing them a
great deal of entertainment, aside from the opportunity of exercising
their fundamental impulse. With myself also, _coitus was a comparatively
small element_ in our mutual relations. Innocent coquetry, including
“taking off” the baby and the woman, occupied a far larger place.
[Sidenote: _Author’s Two-Sided Life._]
My relations with a coterie of beaux, and particularly with soldiers
around the camps and forts, reminded me sometimes of a play. I was, as
it were, acting a part. Perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say that
another personality was in possession of me. I was conscious that I was
the same “I” who was one of the leaders in scholarship at the university
and who was there looked upon as a particularly innocent and pure-minded
youth. I was also conscious that in the society of my beaux I was not
acting as became the sensible, rational, respectable collegian of other
occasions. I felt that I had temporarily relinquished my mind and body
to the dictates of another spirit, that of a “baby girl”—a combination
of baby and girl. It was however a spirit not alien to me. It was a
spirit which had dwelt in my brain from infancy. It was a spirit that
had always been called up by the sight of beautiful stalwart males of
the proper age. For the work of life I realized that this spirit would
not do. If I was to make a name for myself in the world, I must dethrone
this baby-spirit in me. When in my study, I sought to forget this
baby-spirit. I even turned against it at times with a sort of
abhorrence, and asked myself how I could give way to it. Thus I lived a
sort of a two-sided life. Part of the time I was a sober-minded
intellectual worker. Part of the time, when under sexual excitement,
even to a slight degree, I displayed the mental traits of a baby. I knew
that these two states, babyhood and adult manhood, were incongruous, but
to have a contented mind and to be in a mood which would render a career
devoted to scholarly pursuits possible, it was necessary occasionally to
follow out my feminine and babyish instincts. It should be remembered,
however, that I have never developed into a full-fledged man either
physically or mentally. If my business associates tell the truth, I am
still in 1918 a child nearly half a century old. Childlikeness is a
common characteristic of androgynes.
[Sidenote: _Acting Out a Drama._]
I was not alone in acting a part when with a coterie of beaux, but they
also did in conducting themselves toward me as if I were a girl. While
strolling with soldiers through the fields and woods, I would demand
assistance over places of the slightest difficulty, and some of them
were marvellously solicitous under the circumstances. They instinctively
yearned to be the protector of some weak female, and being deprived of
practically all female company, they spent their instinctive gallantry
on me. This was to me a rare pleasure.
In our drama, it was bliss to me to be the star, the center of
attraction, the only representative of the gentle sex present, while
there might be around me half a score of large, powerful young bloods.
In my every-day sphere, I have been exceedingly shy, but as “Jennie
June” I have impersonated a baby girl before a hundred soldiers at a
time without being in the least embarrassed. I would fret after the
manner of a baby and sob just for the pleasure of having them soothe and
pet me. I would pretend to faint away just for the pleasure of being
caught in their arms and held there. When in the country, I sometimes
feigned unwillingness to go with them, and forced them to carry me, with
hands, arms, and whole body hanging limp. This was also a rare pleasure.
Sometimes they would scare me in fun in order to bring from me a shrill
feminine shriek—when I felt sure no officers or civilians were near.
Indeed while in their company, I exaggerated cowardice, babyishness, and
femininity in general.
[Sidenote: _Cast Out of a Camp._]
On this visit of 1894 with the soldiers, most of them treated me well.
Some even allowed me to call in their tents, and shared their meals with
me. But others, who had been brought up to believe that a fairie must be
a monster of wickedness, and were disinclined to learn through
association with me that I was a paragon of morality apart from coquetry
and venery, were bitterly opposed to my presence in the camp and sought
to injure me. But I was treated so well by so many that I made myself
too free. I was of course guilty of no immodesty or ultra-babyishness
within the boundaries of the camp.
The increasing opposition culminated one afternoon. I had asked an
acquaintance if I could take a nap in his bunk, and as a joke, he
installed me in the bunk of an enemy. As a result I was ordered off the
camp-ground. I had to traverse a lane lined with tents, in front of
which their occupants were eating supper. As I passed, with head bowed
in humiliation, the majority were laughing at me, while the malevolent
called out the appropriate vulgar epithet, and threw scraps of food and
cups of coffee into my face. I was wishing the earth might open and
swallow me up. This experience led me to leave for home immediately.
As only a few weeks now remained before my return to New York to begin
my senior year, I passed them without being tormented by unsatisfied
instincts. On my return, I had no intention to seek my Mulberry Street
friends, partly because of the events at our leave-taking in May, and
partly because of the cooling of my fascination after four months’
separation. I decided not to frequent the outlying fort where my soldier
friends had returned because of the inconvenience of going thither. I
believed I could find associates within a half hour’s journey from where
I myself resided. I had decided to try my luck in the 14th Street
theatre district, which was at that time a favorite promenade of
fairies.
[Sidenote: _Year 1894—I Become a High-Class Fairie._]
One evening I clad myself so as to present the most attractive
appearance possible: a blue suit, with box plaited, belted coat (Norfolk
style); dark red necktie; white gloves; and patent-leather shoes. As a
high-class fairie, I sought to dress in a distinctive manner, so as to
be more readily recognized by my prey. Therefore unusually large neck
bows and white gloves. Fairies are inclined to be loud in their dress.
The excessive wearing of gloves and the wearing of a red necktie are
almost universal with high-class fairies. Once a blackmailer to whom I
would not hand out the three dollars demanded made good his threat to
turn me over to a policeman, who took my red tie as conclusive evidence
that I was a fairie. Of a fairie who was arrested for accosting on the
street, I have heard it said: “He got thirty days for wearing a red
tie.”
On my first visit to the theatre district named, I promenaded up and
down for about an hour, afraid to accost any adolescent. Finally one
accosted me: “How’s business?”
“How do you know my business?” I replied with a smile.
“Oh, I know all right. Didn’t you get many tonight?”
“I was only looking for you. I cannot express how beautiful you appear
to me. Please excuse me for being so outspoken.”
[Sidenote: _The “Other Side” of a Senior’s Life._]
“Oh, there’s no harm done.”
“You are the most beautiful and best dressed fellow I have seen this
evening. Won’t you please, _please_, take me as your valet and slave? I
will serve you for nothing.”
He happened to be living in a furnished-room house in the neighborhood.
Arrived in his room, he treated me with marvellous gallantry, as if I
had been a queen. For several weeks, I spent an evening in his company.
He introduced me to his companions, they to theirs in turn, and before
long I numbered among my acquaintances scores of the habitues of the
gambling halls and other dens of vice of this quarter of the city, and
associated with them in these places, though fellatio and coquetry were
my own only departures from a most puritanical life. Such an environment
was it that fate had in store for the innocent stripling of a few years
ago who had chosen for himself the self-abnegating career of a foreign
missionary.
Outside of this one evening each week in which I gave free rein to my
“baby girl” proclivities, however, I continued to be a most industrious
collegian, even winning prizes because of my excelling all others in
some branches. My every-day circle had no suspicion of the double life I
was leading. Whenever returning home after an evening passed as a
fairie, I took the most extreme precautions that I should not be
followed, and of course concealed from all who knew me as “Jennie June”
that I was a person of more than a common-school education.
[Sidenote: _Depilation._]
All classes of sporting men—young actors, professional gamblers,
racetrack bookmakers, and adolescents of some means and without
occupation other than to sip continually of all the gross pleasures of
life—constituted the associates of “Jennie June” during the following
year and a half. I read in the newspaper several times that one of my
paramours held a world’s record in one branch of sport. I found that
very few of this moneyed, sporting class cared to go beyond joking with
me and teasing me, and none beyond the age of twenty-five ever went to
extremes. In this neighborhood at that time female filles de joie were
numerous, and the sporting men were more than satiated. The fairie’s
success is inversely proportional to unmarried adolescents’
opportunities with the gentle sex.
About the beginning of my 14th Street career as a high-class fairie, I
removed all the growth of hair on my body and limbs by means of a safety
razor so that they were as glabrous as statuary. I considered that I
thus beautified my body. The operation had to be repeated about once
every two months. I would let the hair on the face grow for a full week,
remaining in my room continuously the final two days, Saturday and
Sunday, because of my untidy appearance. I would then pull it all out by
the roots through the application of depilatory wax. For two or three
weeks subsequently my face would be as devoid of hair as any woman’s,
when the new growth would reach the surface of the skin. After another
week’s growth, it was necessary to repeat the operation. I had hoped
that the repeated violence to the hair-cells would destroy their
functioning and I would be permanently rid of facial hair, my most
detested mark of the male, but there was no appreciable effect. I also
feared the repeated operation might occasion a malignant growth, but I
was ready to take every risk.
[Sidenote: _Other High-Class Fairies._]
About the age of seventeen, I was horrified at the first appearance of
hair on my face. For several months I refused to shave, but pulled the
hairs out when they became long enough to grasp between the fleshy part
of the thumb and the blade of a dull knife. I was again horrified when
my father presented me with a safety razor. Fortunately for me, this
invention shortly preceded my arrival at puberty, my horror of it being
far less than of the old-fashioned kind.
During this period of my career, I learned that fairies are maintained
in some public houses of the better class, and met several of these
refined professionals, who resembled myself both physically and
psychically. They commonly have plates substituted for their front
teeth. Even I took this expedient under consideration. It was suggested
to me to become an inmate of such a house, but I could make the career
of a fille de joie only a side issue. I gave first place to the
intellectual and others of the highest aims of life. My sister
courtesans, both male and female, thought only of the sensual, and had
adopted their occupation as a gainful one, whereas I sought merely the
satisfaction of strong instincts, which unsatisfied would make
practically impossible the higher life I regularly lived.