me with episodes about other female-impersonators they had
encountered. I particularly remember stories about the “Duchess of
Austria,” from whom, they recounted, “some lucky guys had pumped”
hundreds of dollars. One narrated anecdotes of a physician located
south of Fourteenth Street. Young fellows would visit his office to be
medicated and he would reveal his own bisexuality. My pals did not
marvel at all over my strange appetencies. They entreated me to bring
around other female-impersonators. They were merely anxious for the
money it would bring them. When I apologized for my queer penchant,
they said: “It is nothing. It is Nature.” Ralph, those adolescent Pug
Heaven sluggers knew more about the psychology of instinctive
female-impersonators than all the M. D.’s in America combined! From
that single hour’s conversation, I ascertained more about my own
personality than in my prior fourteen years pilgrimage on this planet.
For the first time, the riddle of my existence was solved; I perceived
that I had been born a biological sport—a female with male genitals.
I soon acquired half-a-dozen permanent favorites. [Sidenote:
_Impersonators Expert Actors._] These adolescent sluggers and gunmen
lost no time in assuring me: “You’re only a doll-baby, Eunice, and so
need us big, strong fellows to fight your battles. But you must stay
with our gang! If we should catch you running around with any other,
we’d murder you!”
I coveted to be their slave, Ralph, and did all I could for them without
disclosing that I belonged to a wealthy family, because a
female-impersonator of a higher social stratum associating incognito
with gangsters must conceal his status. At Pug Heaven, I became an
expert detective and actor—an accomplishment requisite for every
upper-class impersonator destined to sprees in the Underworld.
A thousand times I desiderated female corporeality so that I could have
married one of these magic gunmen. How I have envied many a young mother
before my eyes with babe in arms! How could a God of love have created
me physically a male when I have always so coveted personal female
corporeality, and, in adulthood, the mothering of offspring!
These weekly female-impersonation explosions continued more than two
years, when my father relegated me to a university several hours from
New York. I leave it nameless—to spare it the disgrace of having once
numbered “Frank White” among its students. These evenings in Pug Heaven
were the most beatific feature of life. During college vacations, and
for several years following graduation, I occasionally visited the
joint. But finally, on my return from an extended residence in Europe, I
discovered a haberdashery occupying the site. I was informed that an
application for renewal of license had been denied. Its habitués became
thus scattered.
[Sidenote: _Frank—Eunice._]
III. A University Friendship.
Would it interest you, Ralph-Jennie, to hear how I was blackmailed in
college? The episode commenced only in my junior year. Throughout the
first two years, because of the safety-valve I possessed in the Pug
Heaven gunmen, I had succeeded in restraining my appetencies and
presenting no occasion for _chantage_. But early in my junior year, the
janitor of my dormitory happened to be an exquisite chocolate
cream-drop. Only twenty, and with such a “divine” countenance! I could
have gazed into it throughout eternity without a second’s
intermission—until I detected the rascality underneath! Such dreamy
brown eyes! Perfect, arched eyebrows! Sun-flower cheeks! And soft
chestnut hair! Ralph, you never saw anything so fascinating! For weeks I
experienced anguish at being denied a declaration of my admiration! I
then commenced making the “divine” creature presents. And it was then
not long before I began inviting him around to my room after all the
other students had retired and there was little risk of any individual
discovering the unequal friendship. For I would have been ostracized for
entertaining a janitor. And again it was not long before Jack manifested
a roguish streak in his character, which any one but an intimate would
have opined equally beautiful with his countenance and figure. After I
discovered his true character, my fascination died down. But there was
absolutely nothing to do but tolerate him up to graduation.
[Sidenote: _Anglo-American Law Unintelligent._]
In the course of my two decades of adulthood, I have repeatedly fallen
victim to the physical charms of some adolescent stalwart menial in my
every-day environment. I have lived much abroad. In the United States
and Great Britain, three out of four, if of generally good reputation,
demonstrate themselves diamonds in the rough. They refuse to take
advantage of a step-child of Nature whose secret they happen to unearth.
But on the continent of Europe, the proportion is as high as nineteen
out of twenty. There a correct knowledge of sexual intermediates is
widely disseminated and the courts deal out justice to the woman-man.
Even the Paris apache realizes that these bisexuals are worthy of
commiseration and not responsible for their idiosyncrasies. But
English-speaking countries give _carte blanche_ to every prude actuated
to pillage and even murder us women-men. We are outlaws; enjoy no police
protection; and are denied recourse to the laws and courts. In
English-speaking lands, as already in other civilized countries, even
the scum of society should be educated, first by newspaper propaganda
whenever the murder of an intermediate is described, and then from mouth
to mouth, that the woman-man and the man-woman are irresponsible for
their exceptional sexuality and should not be tortured on account of it.
Notwithstanding that I immediately entered into an arrangement by which
Jack benefited fifty dollars a month, I soon perceived evidences of
whisperings that “Frank White is abnormal!” An exasperated classmate
once even exclaimed sarcastically: “You are not a proper person to
associate with!”
In my senior year, I failed of a much coveted [Sidenote: _Persecution of
Androgynes._] election to a senior society—an election which many indeed
had prophesied on the basis of my wealth and scholarship. The failure
was explicable only in the rumors apparently being circulated. But
fortunately they were only _rumors_. In my college days, I would never
have been so reckless as to have permitted any individual ever to
discover me, even for a second, in conversation with such as Jack. Thus
Incredulity followed closely on the steps of Rumor. Because of my
general goody-goodiness, the fellows probably thought it impossible for
me to be so utterly depraved! But the actuality was far beyond rumor.
The only mistake was the rumormongers _a priori_ assumption of deepdyed
depravity. I was not a whit more corrupt than those Pharisees
themselves! The worst of the matter was that I am a girl incarnated in a
fellow’s body, and nevertheless doomed to be segregated exclusively with
males. If the world could only realize that nearly all their anxieties
and horrors are as groundless as this abhorrence of myself in the
university!
Because no busybody engaged a detective to ferret out my secrets, I was
privileged to graduate. But commencement day was like that of my own
funeral. For I realized I was bidding _alma mater_ a farewell forever.
First, on account of Jack’s treacherous character, who had remained with
the university because of his advantages with me; and secondly, on
account of my questionable reputation. Tears even trickled down my
cheeks during the commencement exercises, Ralph. For I felt that I was
in my death throes so far as the university is concerned. I was
compelled henceforth to keep out of touch, including all alumni
gatherings. In all class letters and address lists published [Sidenote:
_Wiles of Androgynes._] the first five years, I engineered things so
that there appeared after my name: “Whereabouts unknown.” Otherwise Jack
might have ferreted me out. The Pharisees doubtless concluded my
“depravity” had wrecked my life. But the fact was that I rose rapidly in
my business career.
Primarily in order to give Jack the slip, I spent the year after
graduation in Europe—for the most part in Paris. I despatched Jack
several cards in order to put him on a false scent.
On resuming residence in New York, I had to make the best of its
Overworld. I ascertained that they are incredibly bigoted as compared
with the liberalism of continental Europe. Only a person who has resided
there has acquired the acuteness of vision to discern the legend on the
hatbands of upper-class New Yorkers: “I am holier than thou!”
I had heard that the Rialto is New York’s stamping-ground for amateur
female-impersonators. Accordingly I commenced devoting one or two
evenings a week to its resorts. As soon as I learned that “the Hall” is
the home of cultured female-impersonation, I made it my own
headquarters.
[Sidenote: _Frank—Eunice._]
IV. The Masked Ball.
You inquire, Ralph-Jennie, if I have been blackmailed during my business
career. I confess I have been more negligent than most cultured
women-men, and as a punishment, have suffered more blackmail. I have
insanely betrayed my secret to several dishonest young bloods who knew
who I am and therefore forced large sums out of me. I shall describe the
most remarkable case.
But first, why have I been the victim of blackmail? Because my strongest
passion is to get into feminine finery now and then and play the
coquette. I also occasionally yield to instinct in the way Nature
ordained for me. But in all this I transgress not in the least against
God or man. Of course I have offended against laws that are a legacy
from the Dark Ages.
No man should cast a stone at me who indulges in marital joys more than
once a week. For since my Pug Heaven apprenticeship, I have not myself
averaged once a week. True I have changed partners about thirty times.
But if circumstances had rendered it possible, I would have been
satisfied with a solitary permanent one. But in the case of women-men,
there do not exist the reasons for monandry and the permanency of the
bond.
But while I have been guilty of nothing to be ashamed of in the eyes of
the All-Wise, I have—owing to irrational laws, fear of imprisonment, and
particularly [Sidenote: _Androgynes’ Families Unsuspicious._] of
bringing bitter disgrace and sorrow on my family—suffered myself to be
bled unmercifully.
Ever since resuming residence in New York, I have taken advantage of all
the public masked balls to gratify my instinct to pose as a belle. Even
those under the humble auspices of the Draymen’s Union, the “Tonsorial
Artists,” and the “Société Universelle des Cuisiniers.”
A particularly great event has been the annual Masked Ball of the
Philhedonic Society. Every pair of trousers may attend which can scrape
together $10 for self and “lady.” The patrons range from scions of the
aristocracy out for a lark, to crooks bent on thievery. For conditions
at the Philhedonic Ball are ideal for the light-fingered fraternity,
particularly because every patron is in disguise, with a mask covering
at least the upper third of the face, and the millionaire and the thief
dance and flirt together.
Our families have, of course, no suspicion that we hermaphroditoi are
only pseudo-men. While marvelling because we have never courted a girl,
they have not been so far enlightened as to discern what that signifies.
That they may always remain in their ignorance, we hermaphroditoi—as you
are aware—set out from our respective domiciles for a public Masked Ball
in masculine attire. Later, with hired masculine escort, we depart from
[Paresis] Hall bewigged, bepadded, bepowdered, bejewelled, and begowned
to shine as belles on the bewaxed floor of X——Garden. After arrival
there, we associate, without waiting for an introduction, with whatever
pair of trousers—that is, presumably—appears fair to look upon. We
hermaphroditoi do our best to converse like real belles. An accidental
[Sidenote: _America’s Most Impious._] gruff note does sometimes betray
us. But usually the gallant comprehends, sympathizes, and merely laughs
at a good joke on himself.
The Philhedonic Ball is the spectacle of a life-time. I do not approve
all that transpires. The two large orchestras, playing alternately, pour
forth continuously into the inebriated ears of the three thousand
revellers the thrilling music of the most voluptuous dances, rightly
tabooed by all decent society. The revellers are as impious a crowd as
ever gathers in America. I would approve the police’s radically
restricting the present license. I am sure we hermaphroditoi are not
among those who give the ball a bad name.
Some of the costumes have been ordered from Paris and London. Many have
already graced the Mardi Gras of New Orleans or Nice. Practically every
romantic or grotesque character ever heard of is on the floor: monkeys,
parrots, geese, yellow kids, foxy grandpa, Happy Hooligan, Cupid,
Mephistopheles, and a thousand others.
At a Philhedonic Ball of about ten years ago—at which the most
remarkable blackmail episode of my life had its origin—I impersonated
Euterpe. Down to my debacle, money fortunately came easy with me. I
therefore endeavored to adorn every Masked Ball with the most elaborate
feminine costume on display there. My Euterpe gown, terminating at the
knees, was of turquoise satin. It was ornamented with several flounces
of miniature sleigh bells washed in gold. Whenever I moved, they emitted
a melodious jingle. My silk, open-work stockings were of an azure hue,
and the pumps of purple kid, with mother-of-pearl buckles. My chevelure
was surmounted with a goldplated [Sidenote: _The Belle of the Ball._]
lyre, studded with hundreds of Paris diamonds, which, under the myriad
gas flames, scintillated dazzlingly. I had had my beardal hair
eradicated so that I could glory in a countenance of an infantile
softness and an exquisite glabrity.
Until about three, everything transpired after a beauteous fashion. My
unrivalled costume had attracted a score of flirts, begging a dance with
me. I finally fell to chattering with an individual in a bearskin. He
soon declared his conviction that I was merely a female-impersonator.
But by exception he manifested irritation at being hoodwinked, and
nausea at the very idea of cross-dressing. A panic supervened upon his
strident tones. I was overwhelmed with mortification and trepidation on
discovering myself in the clutches of what I supposed one of those
charlatans who attend the function in order to unearth a moneyed
female-impersonator of some prominence with _chantage_ as objective. I
lost all heart for mimicking a belle. Most terrible of all, the fellow
next denuded my face of the mask. Horrified lest my identity be
disclosed, I pressed the lacerated fabric to my countenance and
proceeded toward the dressing-room.
In the corridor, the fellow blurted out: “I think I know you. Those eyes
of yourn—how far apart they are! They give you a queer look that no guy
kin forgit who has seen you several times. Any bloke’d recognize you
anywhere, even with a girl’s wig on. I have often passed you down on
Wall Street.”
Though actually employed a stone’s throw from that street and
promenading it almost every lunch hour, I responded almost inaudibly, I
was in a state of [Sidenote: _Tony Neddo._] such trepidation: “You are
in error. I am employed on 42d Street.”
“Don’t think I’m a fool! I’m so sure of meself that I’m goin’ to hang
‘round Wall Street till I run into you agin. And I’m sure comin’ up to
say ‘Hoddo!’ Sure I remember your sissie stride and, most of all, the
way you stare at young fellers as if you were goin’ to eat them up! I
work on that street meself; elevator man in the Z—— Buildin’. Me name is
Tony Neddo. I’m not ashamed to let any one know who I am! But you! Do
you know you’ve done an awful dirty, disgustin’ thin’ in comin’ to the
ball in a girl’s rig? For this you’ll have to pay dear! But if you know
on which side your bread is buttered, no guy’ll ever be the wiser on
account of what I’ve just found out.
“But get rid of your tremblin’! You needn’t be ’fraid of me. I ain’t the
mean guy you think. When you meet me in my every-day clothes, you kin
see for yourself. You’ll see I’m a young feller of strong, pure manhood.
You’ll see I’ve the build of a pugilist. Whoever you are, Mr. Skirt, I
know, from the diamonds in your harp, you’re rich! On the other hand, I
know I kin do for you far more than you kin for me. Any how, let’s you
and me be best friends? We’ll part now, but you’ll sure see me comin’ up
to you on Wall Street soon. Bye-bye, sweetheart!”
O Ralph-Jennie, the fellow was really cute as he took his departure. He
captivated me by his good-humored farewell. It dissipated all my
depression. While I realized he would descend to _chantage_, I already
perceived he possessed innumerable compensating characteristics. Every
individual is derelict in [Sidenote: _Infatuation._] some respect. Tony
had never been enlightened on the immorality of _chantage_. So I hardly
devoted a second thought to his cupidity. At the time I possessed no
“best friend”—no “adopted son”, as we older hermaphroditoi designate our
sweethearts. I immediately commenced to gloat over Tony as _my
conquest—my boy_! How proud I already was of him, although not yet
having visioned his countenance! But he had strutted away in such a
manly fashion and possessed such a deep bass, ultra-masculine voice! I
could perceive he was athletic and a little larger than the average man.
And I was particularly obsessed with his blatant, nonchalant description
of himself: “Strong, pure manhood”!
Henceforth my stream of thought was surfeited with visions of conversing
with him again. But the opportunity did not supervene until two awfully
long hours—in the closing half-hour of the ball. The floor was
ankle-deep with confetti, rendering further dancing impracticable. A
goodly proportion of the revellers were anyway too tipsy or too fatigued
to be on their feet. The hundreds promenading the arena, besides the
couple of thousand in the boxes and balconies, were sprinkled with red,
white, and blue confetti and wound round and round with paper streamers
of all colors. A steadily flowing river of humanity was discharging into
the street. I would myself have already taken my departure, but had
devoted the last half-hour to dragging myself wearily to every nook and
corner in search of my bear.
Finally, in the main corridor, a handsome adolescent stepped smilingly
out of the stream of humanity [Sidenote: _Chantage._] slowly moving
streetward: “Are you looking for me, sweetheart? I am Tony Neddo.”
He dared excuse himself, for a moment or two, from his
“lady”—considering to what class she belonged! We withdrew out of her
hearing. I was tickled to death on now beholding what I had drawn in the
lottery. I had known the fellow was ultra-masculine. But not until that
moment did I discover that he was handsome into the bargain. Indeed he
was indisputably the best looker of the hundreds of young fellows who,
with their “ladies,” streamed by as we whispered together.
“How old are you?” I began.
“Nineteen is all.”
“Eleven years younger than myself. Just my ideal age for a young man to
be adopted as my son. Tell me frankly: Did anybody ever tell you that
you are unusually good-looking?”
“That’s not for me to say. But you yourself see me now when I have my
own clothes on. I don’t look as if I belonged to the weak, crippled
sex—as you do yourself—do I? I look to be a he-man, don’t I? While you
are one of those awful she-men! Mr. Skirt, just think of your own
shameful, disgustin’ nature! Your secret and character have come into me
power. And it wouldn’t do you any good to hit back. I have nothin’ at
all to lose.
“But I’m only talkin’ business now. Every bloke puts his foot into it
now and again. And I did at our first meetin’. Because I was then just
crazy for money. That’s all. But it only _looks_ as if I’m after your
money. What I really and truly want is the chance to make your life
happy. I want to be your [Sidenote: _Boon of an “Adopted Son”._] best
friend. Just let me see what you would do for a young feller who would
give himself to you, body and soul. No one is poorer than me these days.
All I got is the suit on me back. I only rented that bear rig for the
evenin’.”
“Well, Tony, how much would you expect?”
“Two hundred bucks a month.”
I argued for one hundred—all that at the time I cared to part with,
although my infatuation soon after augmented so that I voluntarily
presented him three times my first offer. But on this first night I
repeatedly assured him coaxingly, though sincerely, that he was just the
type of young fellow that appealed to me. Over and over again he
replied: “I wouldn’t sell me goodwill so cheap! All your fine talk, Mr.
Skirt, doesn’t get us anywhere. It doesn’t have the least effect on me.
Only money talks. If you’ll part with two hundred bucks, I’ll know you
think that much of me. Besides, if we don’t fix up matters now, don’t
ever show your face again on Wall Street!”
But when he had bluffed to his limit, he accepted my first offer. And I
didn’t mind the promise of that stipend to _him_—so winsome and handsome
and assuring me he would be my soul-mate.
Because his “lady” was dancing attendance, our conversation had to be
broken off before the end of five minutes. In parting, I said: “The more
I have heard you converse, the better I like you, Tony. You are a pretty
smart boy. I would be glad to give you an education, so that you can
rise to my own social level instead of continuing in the servant class.
We shall not regard our agreement as blackmail. Instead I now adopt you
as my sole well-beloved son. I will [Sidenote: _Now Man; Now Woman._]
even be your slave. We shall enjoy together all the good things of life.
But, remember, you must never do anything to betray my character and our
relations to anybody. And, Tony, always call me ‘Frank.’ I would prefer
that in private you called me ‘Eunice,’ but if you acquired the habit,
you would sometimes make a break before people.”
[Sidenote: _Frank—Eunice._]
V. Frank—Eunice’s Indiscretion.
Would you like, Ralph-Jennie, to be enlightened as to how I came to
reside, five years of my prime, within prison walls? You have censured
me for black-guarding the Church and religious people. But do you marvel
thereat after I disclose that it was _they_ who were instrumental in
robbing me of five years of man’s all too brief sojourn on earth? In my
youth, I was naturally religious. While no longer a church member, not a
Sunday passes but I attend morning service. I continue to be a disciple
of Christ in my own way, and estimate church attendance as one of the
greatest privileges of existence. But religious people, the Church, and
the Bible have occasioned me such terrible persecution that I can no
longer do aught than revile them for their hypocrisy. And the average
preacher, while meaning well, is so bigoted! Only recently I heard one
declaim about the deluge: “God then drowned humanity as rats with the
exception of Noah’s family because MONSTERS were being born in
considerable numbers.” He claimed that “monsters” is the correct
translation for “giants” of King James’ version. And he made evident
that he understood by “monsters” us bisexuals. Must we poor sexual
cripples bear the blame not alone for the decline and fall of nations,
but also for the Noachian deluge?
You ask, Ralph-Jennie, my philosophy of life. First: To brighten the
lives of unfortunates. Secondly: To get out of existence all the good
times one can without transgressing against any one else. We are
[Sidenote: _Making a Misanthrope._] certain of nothing in this life
except the passing moment. I even do not _know_ that you exist, Ralph,
otherwise than as a percept in my stream of thought.