How the era of 'men were men' birthed America's first drag superstars

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And it wasn't just on college campuses. Men's business and social clubs, like the Elks and the Knights of Ak-Sar-Ben ("Nebraska" spelled backward), put on lavish musicals, revues, and sketches in which men ardently and unironically impersonated women to great renown. During World War I, American doughboys got enthusiastically into drag with the full support of the brass back in Washington. The 88th Division of the American Expeditionary Force formed a troupe called The Runaways that toured war-torn France with original shows such as The Million Dollar Girl, whose men-in-women's clothing performed so artfully that General Merch Stuart arranged for them to form their own entertainment-focused "brigade."

Businessmen's clubs, church groups, and social clubs put on their own cross-dressed theatricals with actors in female attire, some comically, others sensually alluring and artistically precise. There was even a craze of "womanless weddings" in which local clubs and groups orchestrated elaborate matrimonial events where all attendees, from the bride and her mother to guests, were men. These all-male, transvestic troupes had one thing in common: they were adamant that dressing up in women's clothing to entertain themselves and others was a man's work.

Yet, here we are, a quarter-century into the new millennium. So much darkness hangs above the lives, labors, and loves of those who dare to suggest there is so much more to sex and gender than two rigid boxes that imprison us all, even the would-be cultural jailers. The 1920s were like the 1990s: an air of freedom, prosperity, and openness dominated American culture. Drag and female impersonation artists dominated the popular stage. By 1923, it was common to see two popular drag or female impersonation artists on the same bill.

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Many of these entertainers' names, including Julian Eltinge, Bothwell Brown, Bert Savoy, and Karyl Norman, have been obscured over the decades. But there was nothing obscure about them back then. They commanded huge crowds, enjoyed contracts worth hundreds and thousands of dollars a week, and starred in everything from vaudeville shows to stage musicals to silent movies.

From 1912 until the end of the 1930s, the Julian Eltinge Theatre stood proudly on West 42nd Street in Manhattan, showcasing some of the most popular plays of that decidedly American art form, the Broadway show. The Eltinge was renamed a few times, and in the early 1990s, it was literally picked up and moved down the block to become the AMC movie complex. Frescoes on the ceiling are said to be idealized visions of womanhood inspired by Julian Eltinge's exacting and beautiful impersonations.

It has been said before by social thinkers and the curious, but I will repeat it: it is terrifying, bewildering, and overwhelming to think about fixing substantial structural problems in our world, from unequal wealth to the ongoing legacies of owning and dominating other human beings. So, it is no surprise—it is quite human, in a way—to want to clamp down on more tangible-seeming targets that may inspire discomfort and anxiety rather than address the real problems.

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That's what happened in the late 1920s and the 1930s regarding drag, especially after a crashing stock market and the rise of European and Soviet totalitarianism. Many performers and crossdressers were censored, their work criminalized, and their lives pathologized by "scientific" thinking that dubbed these people "inverts" or "perverts." But in the end, Americans were eventually forced to actually fight fascism, inaugurate a New Deal, adopt an attitude of care, and create a more perfect union.

It's true, the genderqueer would remain repressed and underground until the stirrings of Stonewall and beyond. But in the end, the reactionary efforts to force human lives into a bottle failed, and in doing so, lots of mental energy was freed up to address real problems.

Andrew L. Erdman is an author, historian, and psychotherapist.His new book, Beautiful: The Story of Julian Eltinge, America's Greatest Female Impersonator, was published by Oxford University Press this month. Erdman has also written Blue Vaudeville and The Queen of Vaudeville: The Story of Eva Tanguay. He lives in Los Angeles. Follow him on Instagram @AndrewLErdmanAuthor