Doughboy, II   By Melissa Tawn   Transsexual dancer Josephine Washington falls in love and gets married. She also meets the legendary dancer Marie Lachaud, and together they plan the First Paris Jazz Festival.

CHAPTER I. BILL

For several months, Josephine Washington studied dance at a ballet school, but found it disappointing. The formal steps and rigorous rules lacked the spontaneity and just plain fun which she loved in jazz. She was always trying to do something which her instructor would say is “unacceptable”, though it seemed pretty obvious and fitting to her. Finally, she gave up and quit. This, of course, left her with a decision on what to do next. She could find another jazz band and work on a new show. Certainly there were plenty of dance halls that would welcome her with open arms and wallets. But somehow she couldn't get up enough energy to begin. Her friends, The Cotton Club Trio, had already sailed back to New York and the thought of having to establish a rapport with a new group of musicians put her off.

Besides, there was another major distraction in Josephine's life — she was in love. The object of her affection was a sandy-haired six-foot-two Canadian by the name of Bill McIvey, whom she had met one evening at a bistro in Montparnasse. Bill had been an officer with the Canadian forces during the war, and then returned to Canada to work as an executive in his father's timber and logging business. ("My family's timberlands are not that extensive by Canadian standards," he would say, "they are scarcely larger than Lancashire and Yorkshire combined.") After three years of utter boredom pushing papers around his desk and drinking cocktails in Toronto, he told his father one day that he had decided to go to Paris to become a painter. Surprisingly, his father didn't object, and told him to go ahead and sow his wild oats while he was still young. The timber business would wait. By the end of the week, Bill had already booked his stateroom (first class, of course) on the Empress of Halifax, which was scheduled to leave from Montreal in 10 days' time.

Bill arranged to take lessons from Matisse himself but, as he would, himself, cheerfully admit, really had very little talent. ("But I have moneybags full of talents, so Matisse keeps me on," he would joke.) He did have a lot of fun though. He had rented an enormous apartment, which served as a combination refuge and soup kitchen for any number of Canadians of whatever sex or sexual preference — both were sometimes rather indeterminate — who showed up at his door. He used to refer to his place as the SPCCA — Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Canadian Artists. Josephine had instantly taken a liking to him, and he to her. Soon they were together every night, in growing intimacy.

It was therefore only a matter of time until Bill found out Josephine's true sex, something that did not bother him in the least. He told Josephine about a medical corpsman they had in their unit who insisted on being considered a woman and dressing in nurse's outfit. "Her birth name was Colin, but everyone called her Colleen. She was unbelievably sweet and gentle. All of the men loved her, and treated her with the greatest respect," he said. "Hell, when you are in the trenches for months on end, being constantly bombarded by the Boche, the sight of a pretty lady is about the most welcome thing that there is. When guys got leave to go to the rear, they would always bring her presents of cosmetics or cheap jewelry." He then asked Josephine to marry him. She laughed and said that such a marriage would probably not be legal in Canada, but he pointed out that her French identity card said she was female, and that made it legal. If anybody would make problems, "why hell, there isn't a judge in Canada my dad hasn't bought at one time or another." Josephine kissed him, and said that she would take the matter under serious consideration.

CHAPTER 2. MME. LACHAUD

Around the same time, Josephine received a polite letter requesting her, if convenient, to pay a visit to the home of Mme. Marie Lachaud on the following Wednesday afternoon. In the Parisian world of dance, such an invitation was more in the way of a royal command. Marie Lachaud was a living legend. In her day, she had been a can-can dancer extraordinaire, the superstar of the Moulin Rouge at the height of its fame. After illness forced her to retire from dancing, she had parlayed her close friendship with the artist Henri Toulouse-Lautrec into the ownership of the most successful art gallery in Paris and then multiplied her earnings through successful financial investments. She now lived the life of an affluent and highly-regarded patroness of the arts.

Josephine could not but feel nervous as she rang the bell at Mme. Lachaud's door, and overawed as she was led into her large salon, surprisingly furnished with the most modern style (later to be known as "art deco") furniture, the walls hung with original paintings by Toulouse-Lautrec, Seurat, Matisse, Monet, Picasso, and many other great artists — several of them portraits of Marie Lachaud herself. The hostess, exquisitely dressed in the latest fashions, graciously met Josephine and kissed her on the cheek.

"I have heard a lot about you, my dear," she said, "and it is time that we meet in person. But it is best if, before we talk about you, I should tell you my story, which very few people know. It will put you at ease." Mme. Lachaud then briefly related how she had been born a boy, raised by whores, and eventually became a dancer. (AUTHOR'S NOTE: Marie Lachaud's tale is related in my story "Can-Can".) You see, my dear, we are very much alike.

"How do you know about my background?" asked Josephine. "I donate a lot of money to finance the arts," replied Marie, "but I also try to do what I can for other women like you and me. In particular, I am the founder and owner of The Unleashed Peacock. While I keep my connection with that bar secret, I do like to be kept informed of interesting people who come there, and the bartender obliges me by sending weekly reports. So I knew about you from the beginning. I have been following your career with interest. It was I who told Léonide Massine about you and urged him to go see you perform, and it was I who financed the production of "Harlem". I saw you dance there — you were magnificent; you are a much better dancer than I was at your age."

Josephine started to protest at that, but Marie held up her hand. "The can-can is a ridiculously-easy dance to master. If you want, I can teach it to you in half an hour. I am sure that if you were on stage at the Moulin Rouge instead of me, The Dwarf would have been beside himself. Poor Henri, sometimes I miss him so much. He was a drunk, a drug addict, and a lecher, but above all a genius and so much fun to be with."

Josephine had an odd feeling when she heard this. For her, Toulouse-Lautrec was someone you hung in an art gallery or a museum, not someone you hung around with. Here was a woman who had known him in person, as she had known van Gogh and Seurat. It was weird. Vaguely, Josephine wondered if, in thirty or forty years, the younger generation would look at her in the same way she was now looking at Mme. Lachaud.

Mme. Lachaud then asked Josephine about what she was doing now, and Josephine told her about her indecision as to what to do next in life. She also told him about Bill. "So you are involved with Tom McIvey's son, are you?" said Marie. "His father was one of the gayest blades at the Moulin Rouge in my day. He tried to go to bed with me several times, without any luck. Do you know that Henri once painted him? Excuse me for a moment."

Marie left the room and came back five minutes later, carrying a small canvas, obviously by Toulouse-Lautrec, showing two men in formal dress, complete with top hats and canes, standing at a bar and trying to attract the attention of a woman. "The man on the left is Tom McIvey; the woman is my close friend Brigitte Leblanc, one of the Moulin Rouge's best whores. Take this and give it to your friend Bill, I am sure that he will enjoy seeing how near the tree the acorn has fallen. (The picture, by the way, is now on display at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto; it is worth many millions of dollars.)

"Times have changed," she continued. "When I was your age, I would never have dared having an affair with a man, lest my secret be detected. You are very lucky." "I am very scared," replied Josephine.

"It will be all right." Marie comforted her. "This is a new era. In any case, I have some plans for you, which is why I asked you to come visit me."

Mme. Lachaud went on to explain that she had decided that "Harlem" did not succeed all that well because it tried to shoehorn jazz into an alien mold — that of ballet. She therefore decided that what Paris really needed was a Jazz Festival, one which would present jazz on its own terms. She hoped to invite some of the biggest names in American jazz to participate, and already had the agreement of a major Parisian impresario to organize the event and arrange the financial backing. Mme Lachaud, as usual, would keep in the background, but she would like to have someone whom she trusted (and who would report to her) on the organizing committee. Would Josephine be interested?

Yes she would.

CHAPTER 3. MARRIAGE

Bill was overwhelmed with the painting which Josephine brought to him from Mme. Lachaud. He was also very excited about the idea of a Jazz Festival and insisted on being among the financial backers of the project.

They discussed it all while lying in Bill’s bed. Though Josephine did not have the body of a woman — sexual reassignment surgery being several decades in the future — she and Bill had, through experimentation, found several ways to satisfy each other and enjoy each other to the fullest. They also loved each other more and more every day.

Then, in what seemed like an afterthought, Josephine casually told him that she had forgotten to mention something else. “What is that?” asked Bill. “I think I will marry you after all, you big hunk,” said Josephine and kissed him again and again.

Later on the following day, they sat down and considered the prospect of marriage with a colder eye, and it is worth stepping back and looking at the problems which they expected to encounter. Surprisingly, Josephine’s eonism was the least of them. No technology existed in the 1920’s to test a person’s DNA (indeed, the very existence of DNA was unknown) or any other genetic markers which might raise problems. Moreover, legal constraints prevented anyone from asking Josephine to strip or in any other way reveal her sexual organs. So long as she had the correct papers identifying her as female — which she had — and so long as she was able to convincingly present herself as female — which she was — she had nothing to fear on that account. A minor problem could have arisen from the fact that, while Josephine was a naturalized French citizen, Bill was not. However, since he was both extremely rich and had very good connections with the authorities (and, if necessary, could bring pressure through the Canadian ambassador, who was a friend of his father), it was unlikely that that issue would arise. A more serious problem was Josephine’s color. While, in theory, French law did not forbid interracial marriages, in practice many civil and religious authorities refused to perform them and could thwart such marriages through all sorts of bureaucratic hassling.

Another serious problem was the fact that Bill did not want to get married in a civil ceremony. He had been raised in an Anglican household and was determined to be married in a church by an Anglican clergyman. France, however, was very much a Catholic country and Anglican clergy willing to marry them were not easily found. Bill therefore contacted a friend in London, Harold Burnett, who had good contacts at Lambeth Palace (the official residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury) and asked for advice. After several anxious weeks of waiting, a solution was found.

The Rev. Dr. Dennis Smythe was an Anglican minister who had spent three decades in India, first as a missionary and then as spiritual leader of one of the largest churches in New Delhi. He had married an Indian woman, one of his first converts. When he retired and returned to England, he found that his wife had a hard time with some of the parishioners who could not get used to a minister’s wife who preferred wearing saris and with the harsh Yorkshire climate. So he finally moved to Cannes, on the French Riviera, where he spent his time writing his memoirs and also acted as part-time pastor of the small Anglican church which serves the local expatriate and tourist communities. At the age of 75, he was rather frail but still mentally very active. Since he was duly registered with the authorities as a religious leader, he was empowered by French law to perform marriages, though he rarely did so (almost all of his parishioners being retirees nearer his own age).

Harold Burnett was able to obtain a letter to Dr. Smythe, signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, pointing out Tom McIvey’s standing in the Anglican community in Toronto and his many contributions to the church, and asking that Dr. Smythe agree to officiate at the marriage of his son. Needless to say, there were no problems.

Josephine was worried that Bill’s father might object to the marriage on racial grounds, but Bill assured her that that wouldn’t happen. Bill had been sending him clippings about Josephine taken from the Paris newspapers and Tom was only delighted. Indeed, he intended to come to Cannes personally for the wedding.

Josephine’s parents would not be there. Her mother had passed away while she had been in the service and her father had apparently left St. Louis. He had never written to his son during all of those years (and, needless to say, did not know that his son was now his daughter) and Josephine felt no obligation to seek him out.

Bill and Josephine were determined to make it the Wedding of the Season. No expense was spared. Josephine’s wedding dress was designed personally by Coco Chanel. The chief set designer of the Paris Opera supervised the arrangements for the elaborate banquet and reception at the fanciest hotel in Cannes, to be held after the modest church service (to which only a few intimate friends were invited). The banquet itself was jointly catered by two of the Riviera’s most exclusive restaurants. Music was provided by the American musician Duke Ellington and his big band, who would stay in France to participate in the First Paris Jazz Festival, scheduled two months later. Needless to say, every society columnist in France vied for an invitation.

Josephine selected her bridesmaids with particular care, but the bridesmaid she wanted the most turned her down. Marie, her old friend from The Unleashed Peacock, decided that she could not risk being exposed as an eonist. She had, after all, a family and a high position in the civil service, both of which could be compromised if someone recognized her in person or from a photograph of the bridal party. Josephine managed to persuade her, finally, to attend the wedding as a guest, and arranged Dwayne Harris, for one of Bill’s artist friends, to act as her escort. Dwayne was so taken by Marie that, after the wedding was over, he asked Marie if she would pose for him in the nude. Needless to say, Marie refused but finally agreed that she would allow him to sketch her portrait. This Dwayne did and later, without her knowledge, painted a big canvas featuring Marie’s head grafted onto the nubile naked body of one of his standard models. The painting was exhibited at one of the many artistic salons that summer, and — fortunately — nobody made the connection between the voluptuous girl reclining on a couch and the mild-mannered bureaucrat from the Ministry of the Interior. After the salon closed, Bill bought the painting and gave it to Marie as a gift. It goes without saying that she kept it locked away in a vault, but after her death it was sold to the Museum of Modern Art in New York, where it was on permanent exhibit for many years — the only painting by Dwayne Harris ever to be shown in a first-tier museum.

Mme. Lachaud was an honored guest, of course, escorted to the wedding by her friend Pablo Picasso, who took his sketchpad with him. She spent most of the evening, however, talking to Tom McIvey, retelling stories about the great days of the Moulin Rouge and recalling many of their mutual friends who had passed away or drifted away into oblivion. The ghost of Henri Toulouse-Lautrec surfaced again and again.

CHAPTER 4. AFTERMATH

The happy couple did not depart on a long honeymoon after the wedding, because of Josephine’s work in organizing the First Paris Jazz Festival, which was a great success and which firmly established jazz as an accepted form of European music. Within the next twenty years, it had blended with indigenous gypsy and Slavic music to mutate into a musical form all of its own, known as eurojazz.

Bill and Josephine lived in Paris until the end of the 20’s. Though she did not perform on a regular basis again, Josephine was the acknowledged queen of the Paris jazz scene. Then the world depression brought the continuing party known as the Roaring ‘20’s to an abrupt end. By 1930, the couple returned to Toronto and Bill took over the management of the family business from his father, who retired to a ranch in Manitoba. They had adopted two daughters while they were in France, and Josephine put her dancing shoes aside and concentrated on raising them. She remained in close contact with Marie Lachaud and managed to exchange letters with her until the outbreak of the war. When the fighting broke out, Bill was called up to help in organizing the Canadian war effort of supplying England with food and raw materials, and Josephine put her knowledge of France and her contacts there at the service of the British security forces. Eventually, she became an important part of the British SOE, which maintained contact with the French resistance groups — one of which included Marie Lachaud, who lost her life in a Gestapo ambush. Josephine offered to go to France and take her place, but the SOE commanders felt that she was too conspicuous and so she remained in London until the end of the war.

After the war was over, Josephine returned to Paris to organize a special evening in honor of Marie Lachaud and, for the final time in her life, danced onstage — performing not her usual dances but the dance which made Marie Lachaud famous: the can-can.