Drag Returns to Southwest With Ziegfeld's Reopening

The Grandmamma of them all

Rizzi came to Washington in 1959, right after coming out and leaving the Navy. Here, he met a queen named Liz Taylor, who started what would become the Academy of Washington two years later, running drag parties out of her home where a small group of men would gather to dress up. Eventually, the parties got more extravagant, spreading into places like Louie's and the Hideaway at 9th and Pennsylvania Ave. on Halloween, and the Trinity Theatre in Georgetown for variety shows.

The Academy grew in membership and reputation. And around that time, Mame Dennis was born.

“They always called me Mame because the show was on Broadway,” Rizzi says. “And I carried a long cigarette holder and I was kind of loud.” It's a persona Rizzi has kept for four decades, through high hair and heels -- and lower points, like the heart attack a few years ago that slowed him down a bit, but also caused him to shed 71 pounds.

“But we always had trouble finding places to hold things once people found out what it was,” Rizzi remembers.

When Mame Dennis took the reins of the Academy in the 1970s, she opened the organization to all races, to men who performed as males and to drag kings and “real girls.” She also made the organization volunteer-focused: members had to pay dues to keep the club running, they had to participate on committees, sell tickets and run sound. Most of all, they had to mentor new members.

“A lot of our people had been disowned by their families. Here, you had a mother and a father again. You could be an only child, but here you join a family and you have to get along with them,” she says. “The Academy teaches people how to share things, how to help each other. It's how we've survived all these years.”

New Faces

Chad Phillips, 27, is starting his second year with the Academy. He's performed in drag a few times, but New Faces is his formal debut as Alexandra B. Childs.

Phillips moved to D.C. three years ago, after he left the military. He joined the Academy as a male performer, interested more in the friendship than in drag.

“It took me a year to get brave enough to talk to Destiny about trying drag,” he says. Now, Destiny B. Childs is Alexandra's drag mother. Alexandra's drag aunt, Esmeralda Kane Jaymes, paints kohl around his brown eyes while he talks.

In a city like Washington, being gay might not seem like a big deal. “But in the town I came from in Alabama, that is not an accepted thing,” he said. “And drag is not something you do. It's still the belt buckle of the Bible belt.”

At the Academy, he says, “You're in a group where it's okay to be who you are. You'll be judged, but it's out of love, they want you to work, to improve -- in and out of drag.”

Ophelia Bottoms, a.k.a. Charles McWilliams, is Alexandra's drag grandmother -- though at 30, she bristles at being called that by her more than 20 offspring. Ophelia has been with the Academy for nine years.

“I'm a sucker for an ugly face,” she laughs. “I want to make it pretty.”

There are other places to do drag in D.C. that don't require the commitment the Academy does; no dues, no volunteering. But the love's not necessarily there.

“Some of these girls go to a bar and do drag the first time, and get laughed right out and feel two inches tall,” she says. “People can be cruel. We won't make fun of you … well, too much, anyway.”

Some of Ophelia's kids and grandkids are older than her. But some are still learning their limits, and it can be handy to have a mom who's on your wavelength.

“The drag queens are here to help you get drunk, get laid and to entertain the children,” she says brightly. “But I'll make sure you get outside to puke, instead of the middle of the floor.”

Ophelia was around when the Academy was headquartered at Club 55, and recalls how uprooted the move made the group feel.

“It's happening all over the nation, people trying to push the gay neighborhoods out, and it happened here,” she says. “Some of the clubs from that strip have yet to reopen. This one finally is after all that time. But we're here to stay. And you can still see the building from home plate!”

Part of that world

Backstage, Alexandra is having some last-minute moments of panic. The nail glue's dried up. Destiny strides by, unasked, with a huge bottle. The ruched top of Alexandra's navy satin gown is sagging. Destiny calmly assesses.

“Did you bring any boobs at all?”

“Just these little ones.”

“Oh. No, no. I'll go get mine.”

Alexandra emerges from a cloud of Aqua Net wearing a Dynasty-strength ash-brown wig and a new air of confidence. She's ready for the opening group walk.

“You're doing all right, puddin',” Destiny tells her, taking her hands in a jumble of shiny baubles.

The next costume change is 15 minutes later, into a black knee-length skirt and pink T-shirt reading “New Faces 2009” that matches the other towering newbies. They buzz near the stairs to the stage, smoothing each other's hair like high school kids waiting to walk for graduation. Destiny marches down the line in bedazzled slacks and an enormous ponytail, the most glamorous camp counselor ever. Onstage, they all sway arm-in-arm to “Circle of Life,” from The Lion King.

The room quiets down, and club manager John Parks addresses the crowd, full of older fans and friends who have followed the Academy from Club 55 to temporary digs all over town over the past few years.

“We are delighted to bring the Academy home,” he says. “We will host whatever you need.”

He outlines some reasonable policies. No drugs in the club: Cheers. No sex in the club: Boos.

“Take it down the street, people!”

Mame Dennis, in high hair and sensibly flat shoes, is grateful that all of the hoping and planning and false starts are through.

“So many times through this, I thought, 'Are we doing the right thing? Will we make it?' But we're still here. We made it.”

Backstage again, Alexandra strips to her rhinestones and shimmies into a silver fishtail gown. A USMC tattoo peeks above the zipper. Destiny straightens her charge's long, red wig. It's time for the monthly Zodiac competition. Alexandra is trying for Pisces.

Alexandra looks comfortable on Ziegfeld's new, wide stage. She's at the start of her time with the group, but it's been a long journey here for Chad, and for the Academy.

She's chosen “Part Of Your World,” from The Little Mermaid. She lip-syncs Ariel's intro, then goes into the song:

"Maybe he's right. Maybe there is something the matter with me. I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad.

When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love, love to explore that world up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world."

Ziegfeld's is located at 1824 Half Street SW. Check the Academy of Washington's schedule for show dates and times and cover information.