Walter Cole - Call Me Darcelle

 

Roxy invited me to a masquerade party. He said, “You will go in drag and I will paint you.” “Okay?” I went to his apartment. I walked in and Max Factor had spilled all this makeup all over this table. All the colors of the rainbow, sponges, Q-tips, brushes, ready for me. He said, “Sit down and I'll put the base on.” He rubbed me so hard, I said, “Stop, it hurts.” He said, “I'm getting rid of your wrinkles.” “I don't have wrinkles.” [audience laughter] He finished. He said, “Now, close your eyes. Open your eyes. Look left. Look right.” He's putting paintbrush all over my face. He said, “Now, open your mouth. Okay, put your lips together. You're finished, except for the eyelashes.” I've got eyelashes. Not like these. [audience laughter] 

 

Liza Minnelli would kill for those lashes. [audience laughter] Put them on. He said, “You're ready and you look gorgeous.” He handed me a pair of fishnet hose with holes in them, a French cut that cut clear up to here, but ruffles in the back. I swear it was a three-foot wig, black wig with roses in it. He put the wig on. He said, “You are now a flamingo dancer.” [audience laughter] I felt fun. It was fun. Here I was, 37 years old in my very first dress. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

We went to the Hoyt Hotel. I got in the car, but I had to take my wig off, because it wouldn't fit. [audience laughter] I had it in my lap the whole time. We got out of the car and I quickly put my wig on and I walked in that hotel ballroom like a peacock, proud and happy and very, very sure, I was absolutely looking fabulous. [audience laughter] I looked on the wall, a four-length mirror. I stopped, I took a look and I said, “Walter, what the hell have you done?” [audience laughter] That was the first long cry from a little kid who was called Sissy Boy in Linton, Oregon, and bullied by everybody in school. 

 

I went to Lincoln Grade School. Lincoln High School, and I met a wonderful girl named Jean. We dated through high school. We graduated at the same time in 1950. And in the 1950s, if you had money when you graduated from high school, you went to college. If you had no money, [chuckles] you got married. [audience laughter] We got married. We got married in the First Presbyterian Church. Jean lost her mother when she was a child and I lost my mother when I was 11 years old. 

 

After the reception, we took all the flowers over to the graves of our mothers. We started a life, a normal life. We did all the traditional things. I worked. She worked. We bought a house, I went into the military, came back, we had our first son. Our son was born in 1955, Walter, and my daughter two years later, Meredith. I did it all right. I thought I was happy. And then I felt, no, I am not happy because I'm lying and cheating to the woman I love. 

 

One afternoon with children in school, I sat her down, I said, “Jean, I'm a queer. I like men.” She said, “Why didn't you tell me this years ago?” And I said, “Because I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be normal, live a normal life, but it's impossible.” I didn't leave the house, because I didn't want to leave my children. 

 

One evening, I walked into a bar called Doll & Penny on Third Avenue. At the bar was a handsome young man with a smile from ear to ear. I went over, I put my hand on his knee and said, “I'm Walter, and I have a bar down the street.” He said he was Roxy and he worked at the Hoyt Hotel. I said, “When are your shows?” He said, “Every night, five nights a week, 8 o'clock.” “I'll be there tomorrow.” He said, “Oh, sure.” Well, I was there the next day. In fact, I was the next day for three months. We had a coffee after the show. I took him home, we talked. I took him home, drove him home. 

 

And for three months this happened. Because I knew, I knew that this was-- I wanted something more than to be a one-night stand. I knew that this man is the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I left my home. Roxy and I got an apartment. I told Jean, the whole story, and we did wonderful things together. He worked at the Hoyt Hotel, but the Hoyt Hotel closed and he had no job. So, “Come over to the bar with me and you can work with me.” He came over. He said, “Let's put a show on.” I said, “What kind of a show?” He said, “A drag show.” I said, “Okay, but it's not going to take me two hours to put the makeup on last time.” [audience laughter] 

 

We didn't have a stage. We used a 4x8 banquet table [audience laughter] with a home stereo system. And our spotlight, it wasn't really a spotlight. It was a slide projector on top of the popcorn machine. [audience laughter] Roxy did VD polka on roller skates on that table and didn't fall off. [audience laughter] A drag queen joined us, Tina Sandel. She could do Proud Mary better than Tina could do it. I did Barbra Streisand. Of course, we all did Barbra Streisand [audience laughter] Roxy said, “You're going to have a name if we're going to keep this up.” I said, “Well, how about-- Find one. I don't want to call me Walter anymore on stage? No, you got to have a stage name.” 

 

So, he said, “Well, your dress is too gaudy. You've got too much jewelry on, too much makeup and too much blonde hair. You can't be a Mary or an Alice. I think you should be French.” He worked with Denise Darcel in Vegas. He said, “Darcel. Not Denis, Darcel.” So, we added a couple letters to it and I stuck with me Darcelle.  [audience cheers and applause] 

 

One night, a reporter from Willamette Week came to see our show. She wrote an article with pictures about the best kept secret in Portland, Oregon. That was it. The doors opened, and we were doing shows to the world. One afternoon, Roxy and I were walking downtown and we met Jean and Meredith, my wife and my daughter. I didn't know how this was going to go, and I got really scared and I took a deep breath and cordial conversation for a while and we parted. Three weeks later, three weeks later Meredith called me and said, “Mom wants to invite Roxy to Thanksgiving dinner.” I was getting my family back. Getting my family back. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

My family was back. I had Roxy, and we were doing our shows. Had I not told Jean my secret, had I not found Roxy, I would have never, I would not be doing six shows a week at 88 years old. [audience laughter & applause] 

 

As a matter of fact, there wouldn't have been a Darcelle. Roxy died October last, but we had 47 years together- [applause] -of much happiness. Thank you.