I was recently searching the Web for information about Forbidden City dancer Jadin Wong when I learned about the intriguing Chinese American vaudeville duo Ming and Ling in Nick Tosches' Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n' Roll: The Birth of Rock in the Wild Years before Elvis. From the early 1940s to the early 60s, these "Chinese Hillbillies" bowled over audiences with their humorous renditions of Irish tunes and Polish polkas and imitations of Perry Como, Bing Crosby, and Frank Sinatra. According to newspapers of the time, Ming and Ling were a "must-see" hit wherever they played, whether at New York City's China Doll nightclub, Midwest county fairs, or the Sky Room at the Mapes Hotel in Reno, Nevada. The duo even performed on national television — on "The Milton Berle Show" in 1949 and "The NBC Comedy Hour" in 1956.
HILLBILLY HARMONY—Ming (left) and Ling give out with their Yangtze yodel. These comical Chinese boys are laying New Yorkers in the aisles.
Ming and Ling, Ding-Dong Daddies,
Burlesque With Chinese Accent
By Ray Peacock
NEW YORK (AP)—What China needs in this country is more guys like Ming and Ling.
They're a pair of Chinese hillbillies who are downright funny, and in their New York debut make you wonder where they've been all this time.
Their act is a satire on all Chinese sing-song acts that have gone before them. Just when you least expect it, they burst out with a dash of the Deep South or Scotland or Erin Go Bragh. Remember their name which will be easy to do, because they're going to be around.
Use Real Names
Actually they are cousins, and the euphonious names are not phony. Ming is the little guy, a wizened five feet two, and he was born in Shanghai 38 years ago. His full name is Ming Jue, or, as he has restyled it, Joe Ming.
Ling, who is Robert Ling, was born in Jersey City, of all places. His folks had a curio shop. He's five feet eleven, and 21. The two point to themselves and their stature as perfect examples of contrasting diets in China and America. Bob has tried five times to enlist in the army, but has been rejected each time because of a heart murmur.
Their act is only three years old, but Joe Ming has been around a lot longer than that. He lived for a while in Manila, his father being an exporter and importer, and after returning to Shanghai decided he wanted an American education. So at 18 he entered Valparaiso University. But show business was in his veins, and after two years of studying civil engineering he quit school.
For the next 15 years or so, Joe played the piano in a Hawaiian band, did a solo piano act, and literally was kicked around from coast to coast.
When the cousins finally met, Bob had done some singing for the fun of it in schools and before clubs, and was running errands on the side.
Opening in Boston
"Joe started to coach me," Bob explains. "The stuff we were doing seemed foolish to me, but Joe said it was right. He can't sing himself, but he can teach singing. And then we opened in Boston, and worked around the Midwest until our agent, Al Grossman, got us a New York booking at the Belmont Plaza Glass Hat. It looks like our luck has changed."
The only complaint with their act is that it's too short. Bob wears a Mandarin coat, one which signifies he is a gentleman. Joe is dressed as a coolie. They switch corny hats with abandon. Bob sings in an excellent baritone, and Joe plays the accordion and sings squeaky songs.
"We kid the whole works," they explain. "It's laundry shop humor."
Catholics both, Joe and Bob are thoroughly Americanized. Yet they feel a strong tie to the old country, and have given countless benefits for China Relief.
"It's a funny thing," says Bob, "but in some new records we got from China, we noticed a new rhythm that Chinese music never had before. You watch China. It's going to come of this war a greater and better nation."
—Charleston Daily Mail, May 2, 1943
A Study of Posing with a Ball
Patricia Lam Fung, who has become a free star only recently, is one of the stars who are most skillful in posing before the camera. Photographers all appreciate her being their model, especially the famous Mr. Yung Yung, who has worked with Pat many times before and was responsible for photographing the pictures on these pages.
Since this was not the first time Mr. Yung Yung had photographed Pat in a swimming costume, Pat suggested that she pose with a swimming ball for some variety, and Yung agreed. When Yung was ready with his gadgets, he glanced at Pat who was standing before him, already changed into a bathing suit and holding a swimming ball, then asked suddenly:
"How many different poses do you think you can come up with that ball by yourself? I know you don't like to be told how to pose." Pat shrugged and replied, "It's hard to say, maybe just two or three. We will have to get the ball rolling and then see."
"All right," Yung agreed, "and I have an idea too. How about us doing it as fast as we can? You pose and I will snap it immediately. That way, we can have some photographs which will look as natural as possible."
Pat smiled. "So be it. For I know you too, speed being what you always demand."
So she made a pose and his camera clicked and he rolled the film without a pause, but not before Pat had made another new pose....
So they went quickly and smoothly, as you have never seen. And Pat proved again that she really was a posing genius, her every pose being so wonderful and yet made so swiftly, seemingly effortless and requiring no concentration at all. An outsider would actually think that she was shooting some movie films. For all you could see was Pat writhing like a serpent on the grass, now opening her eyes, now bent at her middle, now straightened, now squatting, now sitting, all with fluid and continuous motion.
In exactly fifteen minutes' time, twenty-two poses were shot and Yung was exhausted. He stopped Pat, gasping, "That's enough for the time being. I really can't go on anymore. My legs are giving out!"
So Pat stopped with a smile, and I, the bystander, remarked that it was like a race of endurance between model and photographer.
Chien Wan-li Shoots Tu Chuan
One of the foremost photographers in the world is Chien Wan-li of Hongkong. His works are chosen for most of the important photographic salons.
In 1958 he was the most awarded photographer in world salons and ranked among the top ten photographers in the world. He is also an Associate of the Royal Photographic Society.
Recently he decided to pick Shaw star Margaret Tu Chuan as a subject. He chose the outdoors as a setting for Tu Chuan.
His rich imagination and expert use of natural light is clearly shown in this series of pictures of Tu Chuan.
He sees in her not just a beautiful girl but also the spirit of youth, in all their eager freshness.
Some of his works are seen on this page. Among them are "Youth", "Silken Tresses", "Fond Memories", "Maid of the Forest" and "Reverie".
I recently learned that Ho Meng-hua passed away last month. Ho is best known in the West as the director of The Mighty Peking Man (1977) — a gonzo Hong Kong King Kong — but he was also one of Shaw Brothers' most versatile filmmakers.
Lucilla Yu Ming
Idol of the Students
The daughter of an eminent Cantonese opera star, Lucilla Yu Ming is one of the top film actresses in the Mandarin pictures. Contracted with Shaw's Studio for several years, she's become one of the stars most adored by the students. Believing in Catholicism, she goes to church more often than night clubs. With no makeup at all whenever off the screen, she spends most of her time reading. The pictures here show that she looks more like a student than a movie star.
Margaret Tu Chuan's Stunt With Eggs
Believe it or not, Margaret Tu Chuan can stand eggs on the end of a stick, even at angles which defy the Law of Gravity.
It happened the day when we went with Margaret on a picnic. Everybody was to do a stunt to provide the amusements. And when it came to Margaret's turn, she took from her handbag six eggs. She declared that she could pile these eggs one on top of the other, on the end of a stick. Nobody believed her, but nobody argued either.
We watched her take out a stick and put an egg onto one end of it. We were amazed because the egg didn't fall. Then she placed the stick between her lips leisurely, with the egg still balancing on it, and we all goggled. Our eyes nearly popped out when she hung the stick egg-side down and the egg still didn't fall. But that was only the beginning. For she then put the rest of the eggs onto the first egg, one on top of the other. And they stuck together, like they were glued there.
And glued is exactly the word. For Margaret explained to us later that the eggs were only empty shells and she had used some kind of fast drying glue to stick them together.
Margaret Tu Chuan is performing with a stick and
some eggs.
She puts an egg onto the end of the stick. "Now, here
we go!"
She withdraws her hand but the egg stays with the
stick. How miraculous!
Look, egg-side down, and still nothing happens. The egg
stays.
But only one egg is nothing really, so she adds
another, and see what happens.
Gee, it is just marvelous. She also finds it hard to
believe her own eyes.
See? Very simple. The second one just sticks on
and won't come off.
But two eggs are still child's play. Here, have
one more. There you are.
Still one more. Now, there are four eggs at stake.
But nothing happens.
Well, here goes the last two. Now six eggs has formed an infallible tower.
Hold it upside down, and it looks just like a string of flowers. What a sight!
