Elegy For A Queen

RIP, Danny La Rue:

With his dazzling coiffures, extravagant costumes, immaculate make-up, fitted eyelashes, blonde peek-a-boo wig and high heels, La Rue — tall and handsome — brought an air of amiable and poised self-mockery to clubs, cabarets, variety halls and summer shows for nearly 40 years.

Beneath huge headdresses and decked out in sequin-studded gowns, La Rue in his heyday would don specially-designed creations of beaded pink lace and tulle with trains of ostrich feathers up to 20ft long. Thus glorified, he became one of the best-loved professional cross-dressers of his time.

...Critics may have complained about the quality of his material, but they never denied his likeability on or offstage. To every performance he brought elegance, humour and glamour in an old-fashioned, overdressed style which (for all its mannered femininity) yielded unexpected dignity and charm. With sundry winks and nods and saucy asides, La Rue — all big brown eyes and hands-on-hip camp — took so much pleasure in his appearance and so much trouble to look glamorous that his actual performance could often seem an anticlimax.

Whether he sang, impersonated celebrities such as Marlene Dietrich, Carol Channing or Shirley Bassey (all close friends), or chatted directly to the audience, his costume was apt to swamp his personality. There was no attempt at sexual disguise. “I work in drag,” he used to say, “but I don’t want to be a drag queen. I’m a variety performer, and I never want people to forget that I’m a bloke in a frock.”

...La Rue was perhaps the only man to take over a woman’s role in a West End show, replacing Avis Bunnage in Oh What a Lovely War! He was highly popular as a pantomime “dame” and “ugly sister” even though he looked exactly like a glamorous woman. He starred in Aladdin, Mother Goose and The Sleeping Beauty. “Of course there was nothing ugly about me”, he recalled. “I had to express all the nastiness through character, which is where my acting talent comes in.”

When La Rue starred in a production of Charley’s Aunt, one critic wrote that he was “so totally convincing as a woman that it defeated the humour of the play”.

Daniel Patrick Carroll was born on July 26 1927 in Cork, the youngest of four children of an Irish carpenter, but his family moved to England when he was six. When the family home in Soho was destroyed during the Blitz, his mother, a seamstress, moved her children to the Devon village of Kenn, where Danny took a keen interest in amateur dramatics. “There weren’t enough girls, so I got the pick of the roles,” he recalled. “My Juliet was very convincing.”

After leaving school at 15, La Rue worked as a baker’s assistant, lift operator and window dresser in a local shop. At 18 he entered the Royal Navy and joined the ship’s concert party. “My first part was the native girl in White Cargo,” he remembered. “I looked stunning.”

...In 1964 Danny La Rue opened a nightclub in Hanover Square to which he gave his own name. “I wanted it to be pure glamour,” he recalled, “but I also wanted it to be a family club, so we had no hostesses.” The club became extremely popular for its satirical revues. “We were doing marvellous satire years before That Was The Week That Was,” La Rue observed. The club attracted royalty, celebrities and coach parties in huge numbers and at the peak of its success had more than 13,000 members.

The year 1968 was particularly successful for La Rue. He made his first television special, An Evening with Danny La Rue, and followed it by appearing in that year’s Royal Variety Performance. His rendering of On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep was later released as a single and reached the pop charts, and he opened in pantomime as the wicked queen in Queen Passionella and the Sleeping Beauty.

Danny La Rue’s nightclub was extremely popular until its closure in 1972. After that he began a variety show, At the Palace, which was sold out throughout its run.

...His proudest boast was that in half a century he had never missed a performance.