Ming and Ling: Ding-Dong Daddies

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.

Even more intriguing are some obscure records attributed to Ming and Ling: a wild version of "Milkcow Blues Boogie" released in 1950 that, according to Nick Tosches, makes Elvis Presley's recording four years later pale by comparison; and a wailing rockabilly tune from 1949 called "Eggroll Eatin' Mama"! Since I've not personally heard these songs and can't find any information about them besides Tosches' book, I'm afraid I must leave the musical legacy of Ming and Ling shrouded in mystery. But one thing is certain: the history of Chinese American vaudeville is a veritable "Land of the Lost" just waiting to be rediscovered.

NOTE: According to the family of Ming and Ling, the songs featured below were NOT recorded by them. See this post for more information.

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