If the world weren’t under siege by a deadly pandemic right now, Walter Cole, the world’s oldest working drag queen, would be on stage. Instead, his legendary Darcelle XV Showplace in Old Town Portland is shuttered and he, the cabaret cast and staff are sequestered in their homes, separated from friends, work and financial support.

Cole, 89, who debuted his glitzy, wisecracking female persona Darcelle five decades ago, has been through crushing times before. He came out in the 1960s when homosexuality was still being diagnosed as a mental illness. He lost friends during the 1980s AIDs epidemic and he’s endured many economic nosedives.

He even served in the military during the 1950s Korean War.

His role: “The Army had to send someone to protect the Italian Riviera, and they sent Darcelle,” he joked during a phone interview on Sunday, two weeks after Gov. Kate Brown ordered nightclubs and bars to close and a week after Oregonians were ordered to stay home to reduce the spread of the coronavirus.

Being funny is Cole’s best weapon against sorrow. The day dancer Roxy Neuhardt, his life partner of almost 50 years, died, Cole went to work.

It doesn’t feel right to hole up at home now when people need a touch of good news. “Awwwwwww!” he said, expressing frustration. “I should be getting ready to go on stage. Usually, I’m always on the go, but there’s nowhere to go.”

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What’s he doing?

Cole laughs, pauses. He has projects.

He’s long described Darcelle as a bawdy bundle of sequins, feathers, big hair, big jewelry and jokes. So he’s home, ordering fabric online, sewing costumes and writing a monologue.

“I’m giggling over lines that will hopefully be funny when we are through this,” he said. “And we will get through this.”

He worries about his employees and wept after reading a note of gratitude one cast member posted on her Facebook page. These are the times, he said, to call loved ones and share reassuring thoughts.

“He’s a hero,” said writer and director Don Horn, who has been friends with Cole for more than 30 years. “He’s been raising money and hosting political activism and gay rights events here since it was illegal to be gay and out. He’s been consistent over all of this time. He’s the glue that keeps us all together.”

Days before Powell’s City of Books temporarily closed its doors due to the coronavirus, Horn and Cole were signing copies of their books, “Darcelle: Looking from the Mirror” and “The Many Shades of Being Darcelle: 50 years of fashion 1969 until present.”

They were surrounded by old friends and admirers. People leaned in to let Cole know what he means to them, how he made them laugh, feel good and forget the harsh realities outside his nightclub.

“When we were starting our show, we worked as hard for six people as we later did for 200,” said Cole. “I wasn’t going to give up on anything. As hard as times are, people need to smile.”

Optimistic street toppers on intersections near Darcelle XV Showplace state, “Happiness Reigns Forever."

Honoring a Queen Anne

Cole has been busy. He’s recently achieved a collection of ambitious goals, dubbed The Darcelle Project.

In addition to the release of two books, a musical about Cole’s life, “That’s No Lady,” by Horn’s Triangle Productions, premiered in September at Lincoln Hall.

Last year’s Oregon Historical Society exhibit, “Many Shades of Being Darcelle: 52 Years of Fashion, 1967–2019," showcased some of the glittery gowns and sparkly rhinestone earrings Cole creates and wears as one of the ″100 Greatest Oregonians Ever," as decreed by The Oregonian newspaper.

An upcoming exhibit, “Darcelle XV at Home,” at the Architectural Heritage Center will spotlight Portland photographer Tom Cook’s images of Cole, dressed as Darcelle, inside the heavily decorated Victorian house Cole bought for $45,000 from a Jantzen swimsuit photographer 42 years ago.

One other long-sought accomplishment: In February, Cole’s 1896 Queen Anne-style home in Northeast Portland’s Eliot neighborhood earned a spot on the National Register of Historic Places.

“The list gets involved, doesn’t it, darling?” Cole said from his light-filled atrium off the kitchen.

When he and Neuhardt moved in, the property had a rollercoaster reputation.

The attractive Queen Anne house was commissioned by a lawyer and his wife, Elmer Ellsworth Miller and Celinda “Linnie” Shipley Miller, to be built for their family with a wraparound porch that winds around an octagonal corner turret topped by a steeply pointed roof.

Soon, some of the six bedrooms were rented out. Over time, as the property was sold and neglected, boarders were arrested for stealing, running a gambling den and using the dwelling as a bordello.

Fortunately, despite squatters, followers of Rev. Sun Myung Moon and other transitory residents, the Elmer and Linnie Miller House was approved as a national landmark because it still stands in its original spot and retains its high integrity.

The exterior is almost as it was 124 years ago, down to its ornamental rosettes, finials and scalloped apron flourishes and fish-scale shingles. Inside, fir floors, pocket doors and original ornate hardware have been protected.

Historians recognize the Miller House as one of only a few unaltered Victorian-era Queen Anne homes that have survived after the Veteran’s Memorial Coliseum, Interstate 5 and the Legacy Emanuel Hospital carved away the heart of the old town of Albina, which is now the Eliot neighborhood.

There is no record of an architect being involved, but the Millers were landlords, having built housing for the area’s population boom after the 1893 Bank Panic and they most likely used ready-made plans. The contractor would have been able to find construction materials and decorative millwork at building supply stores.

Still, it took a high level of craftsmanship to create the roof’s multiple dormers and cutaway polygonal bays as well as the interior features, from the coved plaster ceilings to the built-in cabinetry.

The home is elevated four feet above the street level and the large basement, where Cole sews and enjoys costume fittings, has its own street entrance. When vice officers came through the exterior basement door in 1959, they busted up a gambling operation and confiscated 27 slot machines.

The large corner property with a main house and two workers cottages behind it was more than Cole needed. But he said he instantly decided to buy it when he saw the house’s dramatic grand staircase. Newel posts are made of time-consuming quarter sawn oak and fanciful balustrades rise up past dark-stained wood paneling to a large landing.

The historic Elmer and Linnie Miller House (built 1896) is owned by female impersonator Walter W Cole aka DarcelleJanet Eastman

Some of the light fixtures had gas fittings and Cole learned to do re-wiring and repair work. He illuminated the three-level house with century-old chandeliers and wall sconces salvaged from historic buildings that were being torn down.

Most of original art glass windows had been removed by previous owners, except for one window that continues to light the attic through a front eyebrow dormer.

Cole commissioned Jerry Bosco and Ben Milligan in the early 1980s to make custom stained glass windows. The late glass artists and preservationists’ Bosco-Milligan Foundation operates the Architectural Heritage Center in Portland.

Bosco and Milligan also recreated double-leaf, half-glass panels that had been removed from the damaged front doors. Above the stately doors is a transom depicting a floral motif in pastel colors.

There’s a throne in the sitting room, a Victorian settee in the parlor and the long table in the dining room has no place for plates when Cole “goes a little crazy” and displays most of his silver and crystal candelabras.

“My home is overdone, over decorated and over jeweled, just like Darcelle, but it reflects me,” said Cole. “If someone gave me a framed photo, I wouldn’t have one spot on the wall to hang it.”

He laughs. He said first-time visitors stare at the “glitz,” and he jokes that he could remove 10 items out of every room and no one would notice.

“But it’s a happy place,” he said. “The happiest times of my life have been here.”

His son, Walter Cole Jr., who has worked at the club for more than 30 years, and his daughter-in-law live next door. His grandchildren and great granddaughter visit.

“We use this house; it’s not a museum,” he said. “There was a time when Victorians stopped decorating. I haven’t done that yet. But I totally enjoy everything that’s here.”

Smiles are smart business

When Cole took over a bar in the 1960s, fights would erupt and “all hell broke loose,” he recalled. He banished the troublemakers until they promised to behave.

Later, he’d distract the crowd with makeshift performances, which grew to become the West Coast’s longest running drag show. In 2016, Cole was recognized as the oldest drag queen performer by the Guinness Book of World Records.

Cole dressed as Darcelle and Neuhardt would tap dance on the stage and sometime on tables.

“You can’t fight when you’re laughing. You can’t cry and you can’t limp around," said Cole. “You have to sit down and just laugh.”

He believes laughter can help heal a hurting world. There needs to be time to mourn and repair, and when the curtain rises again, he will be on stage.

What keeps him there? “The audience,” he said. “Without their feelings and reactions that show they enjoy what we’re doing, it wouldn’t be even worth thinking about.”

While waiting out the pandemic, Walter Cole is preparing to entertain.

--Janet Eastman | 503-294-4072

jeastman@oregonian.com | @janeteastman

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