Did the Atrocious Homosexual and Sexual Predator the Cardinal Francis Spellman sodomize Ngo Dinh Diem?
Julie (English only!)
by Don Paulson - SGN Contributing Writer
No doubt the most famous and notoriously Gay New York archetypal
playboy of the 20th century was Jimmy Donahue, grandson of Frank
Woolworth, chain Store millionaire. Seattle Gays would have been
stunned if they knew of his full, super-indulgent, controversial and
unapologetic lifestyle.
Jimmy grew up with immense wealth and privilege. He knew he would
never need to work and set about carving for himself a career of
mischief, while others say, evil. He was spoiled, protected and had no
idea the true value of money and spent ridiculous amounts on travel
with a valet, lavish suites and his cafe society friends.
High society, movie stars and royalty admired him for his good looks,
high intelligence, generosity and chrisma. The gossip columnists also
found a new darling. Jimmy was a brilliant gossip, prankster and
jokester and often a flaming queen high society justified as
eccentricity. There was never a dull moment when he was around! But he
was attached to a dominant mother's purse strings, which killed his
ability to be a part of show business, the one place he could feel
comfortable as a homosexual in the 1930s and get his mothers approval,
which never came. He felt his only course was to abandon himself to a
life of unabated hedonism, ceaseless rounds of laughter, pleasure and
wicked ways; cries for attention.
His antics were shocking. Only his wealth and social position kept him
out of jail. Dressed as a Nun he instructed his chauffeur to stop in
the middle of the Lake Worth Bridge, pulled up his Nuns habit and
squatted. Two passing cars collided. A parachutist and skilled pilot,
he flew under the same bridge and buzzed an aircraft carrier, which
got him in trouble. You never knew when he would take off his clothes
in public or pee in a dish at elegant dinner parties. At other times,
he would dress as a prostitute or act out the life of a male hustler
or pad a dress with pillows and pretend to be the grand society
hostess Elsa Maxwell.
In Italy, Jimmy stood on the balcony of his hotel and mimicked fascist
Mussolini, then peed on a crowd below. He was kicked out of the
country. In Germany during the rise of Hitler, he repeated the same
thing and screamed, "Down with Hitler!" He almost landed in a
concentration camp. At Hardenburg Castle in Germany he was relegated
to a lavish guest cottage. Alone and without an audience he began to
burn all the furniture in the fireplace. By this time Jimmy was
something of a national celebrity an in all the gossip columns. His
mother paid off any offending parties.
Most of his time was spent with the straight super rich. His love for
the theater offered a string of chorus boys on tap, but there was a
dark side. He shocked everyone when he said he once slept with a
cadaver and enjoyed it. It is also rumored he murdered his lover and
participated in a horrible stabbing. His good friend was New York
Cardinal Francis Spellman, an atrocious homosexual and sexual
predator.
The most curious chapter in his life was a four year affair with
Wallis Simpson, after she married would be King of England, Edward the
8th, the Duke of Windsor, had he not given up the throne to be with
the woman he loved and depended on... The Duke, a straight repressed
foot fetishist with an interest in masochism, was into sexual self
abasement such as nanny child scenes; he wore diapers, she was the
master, etc. While Jimmy, who liked older women and the Duchess had
non-penetrative and principally oral sex, the Duke looked the other
way. [All this in Christopher Wilson's book, "Dancing with the
Devil.']
When Jimmy Donahue arrived in Seattle, a social whirlwind took
Seattle's Gay elite by storm. Bill McClane remembers: "I first met
Jimmy at the Mocambo, where we all hung out. He was a class act, rich
and famous and very likeable. The maitre d' was offered money to be
seated at Jimmy's table, where he would buy rounds and rounds of
drinks for everyone.
"He was on a national inspection tour of all the Woolworth stores. His
cousin, Barbara Hutton, asked, 'Will $5000 a week be enough pay?' 'Oh,
I think so,' he replied, 'but you never know.' As was his custom, he
rented a suite and all the rooms surrounding his at the posh Olympic
Hotel [because he doesn't like to be crowded] and so he can entertain
and be flamboyant and amaze his guests with burning gossip of the rich
and famous.
"It was a non-stop week of alcoholic dinner parties and social
engagements. He absolutely loved Madame Peabody's and couldn't believe
its freedom. Jimmy was way out there and didn't care. I had a Chrysler
convertible and he would stand on the seat, hold onto the windshield
and let his scarf blow in the wind. I told him he could be arrested or
his scarf may get tangled in the wheels and break his neck like what
happened to Isadore Duncan.
"One night on our way to Peabody's he asked, 'Can you get me an
Eskimo? I've always wanted an Eskimo.' 'What age?,' I asked. 'What
age?! I didn't think I could get that much service here!' he replied.
Jimmy had tricked all over the world and I mused that an Eskimo was
probably the only person left he hasn't gone to bed with.
"When we got to Madame Peabody's I started looking for an Eskimo, but
I only saw local Indians. Finally, I went up to a good looking Indian
and asked, 'I'm looking for an Eskimo.' He replied, 'Well, I used to
live in Alaska.' I said, 'Fine, are you Gay?' 'No, but I'll do
anything for a price,' he replied.
"I asked, 'Do you know how to rub noses?' He replied, 'Why would I
want to rub noses? You mean rub some guys nose on the floor?' 'No, rub
noses, that's how Eskimos kiss,' I said. 'You want me to rub noses
with you for a price?, he replied. 'No not me, I want to introduce you
to someone. You'll like him and he's very rich,' I said. 'Do I have to
pay you a commission?' he asked. 'No, it's all yours,' I replied.
"He asked, 'Well, what do I have to do with this man, he won't do
anything except blow me or poke me in the butt will he?' I said,
'Don't worry about whips or anything like that, it's okay - think, ice
cubes.' 'Ice cubes?' he repeated. 'Yes, ice cubes. Eskimos live in ice
cubes," I pointed out. 'Okay, I'll be a good Eskimo,' he said. 'Well
then, mush Nanook!' I said.
"Jimmy got his Eskimo and they had a good time.'
Jimmy died in 1966.
