Let the Emperor Wear What He Wants
Two Glimpses Into Local Opinion About Emperor Norton’s Dress
DURING Emperor Norton’s lifetime, his uniform was regular grist for the fourth estate.
Editorial commentary about the imperial regalia fell mainly into two categories:
Bemused — or outright amused — descriptive lists of the elements that made up the Emperor’s dress: The second-hand military coat with a second-hand blossom in the lapel. The oft-tarnished epaulettes. The feathered beaver hat. The hand-carved walking stick. The sword. The Chinese umbrella. The shoes into which the Emperor had cut holes to relieve his corns.
Laments about the “seedy,” dilapidated state of the uniform.
Rarely seen are opinions as to what might justify such an ensemble — other than the Emperor’s own notions of regality — or whether, indeed, the ensemble could be justified at all.
Recently, I’ve discovered two examples.
The first is from the Oakland Tribune of 24 August 1874. Illinois-based minister and peace activist Amasa Lord (1818–1878) had paid a visit to the office — which prompted the Tribune to publish a tongue-in-cheek editorial on the subject of peace.
To bolster its anti-peace position, the Tribune noted:
[W]e cannot help trying to imagine how Emperor Norton would look clad in any other but the habiliments of war.
This Bradley & Rulofson photograph, dated c. 1875, probably is a good approximation of how Emperor Norton looked when this editorial was published. For many, this is the “classic” Norton.
Emperor Norton, c. 1875, by Bradley & Rulofson studio. Collection of the Oakland Museum of California. Source: OMCA
Here’s the full editorial. It’s possible that “Alphabet Barnes” is a wry allusion to the politically active San Francisco attorney W.H.L. Barnes (1836–1902) — the initials standing for “William Henry Linow.”
Editorial, “Let Us Have Peace,” Oakland Evening Tribune, 24 August 1874, p. 2. Source: Newspapers.com
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THE SECOND, earlier example is more pointed. In August 1866, the Daily Dramatic Chronicle (three years later renamed the San Francisco Chronicle) ran the following editorial about the case of Eliza Hurd De Wolf, who had been held on the charge of deception for wearing pants.
The Chronicle agreed with Judge Samuel Dwinelle’s decision to release De Wolf on the grounds that she had not intended to deceive anyone about her sex — and that, in any case, mere eccentricity of dress was outside the purview of legislatures and courts.
The paper invoked Emperor Norton as a case in point, writing:
We may not particularly admire the dress adopted by Washington Second, or Emperor Norton, or Professor Kehry; and the idlers and loafers and ragamuffins of the streets, cannot be restrained from making their comments upon these eccentric worthies, or from annoying them (if it indeed constitutes an annoyance) by their demonstrations of interest and curiosity. But after all, these are matters of delicacy and good taste, like the wearing of short skirts, low necks, or tilting hoops.
Probably the least familiar name here, “Professor Kehry,” was Francisco Kehry, a magician newly arrived in San Francisco from the recently conquered country of Circassia — located along the northeastern shore of the Black Sea and now a part of Russia.
Kehry arrived aboard the steamship Constitution on 3 May 1866 and paid the Chronicle office a visit the next day. Reporting on the visit the following morning, the Chronicle wrote:
The Professor was clad in the unique and striking costume of his nation, of which the immense shaggy cap, the elegantly trimmed robe, with its warlike garniture of silver-tipped cartridge holders, powder horn, etc., constituted the most picturesque features.
It’s apparent that the general arguments the Chronicle marshaled in defense of Eliza De Wolf were intended to apply equally to Emperor Norton, George Washington II, and Professor Kehry:
Editorial, “An Enlightened Decision,” Daily Dramatic Chronicle, 10 August 1866, p. 2. Source: Genealogy Bank
The woman may have exhibited much indiscretion and bad taste in selecting so unusual a costume, and thus making unnecessary war against popular notions, and outraging the feelings or the prejudices of the community. It is possible that her course in doing so savored of strong-minded immodesty or of unwomanly lack of delicacy. It may be that her conduct was such as society should frown upon and discountenance.
But even if this is conceded, we must remember that it is not the function of legislatures or of courts to pass upon questions of etiquette or social propriety. There is indeed a good and substantial reason for preventing by law either sex from simulating the other — from using such a style of dress as shall conceal the sex of the wearer and enable a man to pass himself off as a woman, or vice versa. But no eccentricity of costume short of this should be subject to legal interference. Such interference would be an unwise and unauthorized infringement upon individual liberty.
We may not particularly admire the dress adopted by Washington Second, or Emperor Norton, or Professor Kehry; and the idlers and loafers and ragamuffins of the streets, cannot be restrained from making their comments upon these eccentric worthies, or from annoying them (if it indeed constitutes an annoyance) by their demonstrations of interest and curiosity. But after all, these are matters of delicacy and good taste, like the wearing of short skirts, low necks, or tilting hoops.
No one can for a moment pretend that Mrs. De Wolf dress was really calculated to disguise her sex. In fact, everyone readily recognized her as a woman in an unusual costume — otherwise she would not have attracted such general attention. Had she intended to pass for a man it would have been easy to have made her disguise complete, and the boys of the streets would not have noticed or troubled her. The whole cause of the excitement created wherever she appeared was that everyone saw at a glance that she was a woman in an unusual style of dress. No one, not even the least observant, ever for a moment mistook her as a man, or dreamed that she designed to pass as such.
Her offense, if any, is a purely social, not a legal, one; and society and public opinion must be left to inflict her punishment. This is the clear, logical and commonsense view of the matter, and the attempt to pursue her with legal penalties is nothing else than an attempt at persecution.
Worth bearing in mind: In 1866, Emperor Norton’s regalia still was a work in progress — with “peak eccentricity” still several years away.
The epaulettes had been in place since 1860. But, a photograph from March 1869 is the first to show the Emperor with a “civilian” feathered hat rather than a military Union kepi. And, it’s not until the mid 1870s and later that photographs show the Emp with beaver hats; a more elaborate walking stick; a sword; and a Chinese umbrella.
This photograph, probably taken in September 1867, is closer to what the Chronicle would have had in its mind’s eye when the paper referenced Emperor Norton’s “dress” and classed him an “eccentric worthy” in August 1866.
Emperor Norton, probably 1867, by Bradley & Rulofson studio. Collection of the Wells Fargo Museum.
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