"Cantonese Capers" — that's how the comedy song-and-dance duo Larry and Trudy Leung were billed when they toured the U.S. during 1950 in the vaudeville show "Stars on Parade". Earlier that year, the couple had appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show. That performance, filmed during the early days of live television, lies at the heart of Long Story Short (2008), Christine Choy's documentary about actress Jodi Long and her parents Larry and Trudy. After tracking down a tape of the performance, Jodi screens it for her mother and father — more than 50 years after the event. It's a poignant occasion. Larry claims he doesn't remember any of it, yet mouths all the words of his act. Trudy is equally touched. "It's the first time I ever saw myself on stage... I never saw myself before." As her words sank in, I keenly realized the importance of remembrance and felt gratitude for those who've documented the pioneering Asian American performers of yesteryear.
Long Story Short can be watched or downloaded for a very modest price at Amazon Video on Demand. Check out the free preview which includes a clip from their Sullivan Show appearance. Highly recommended!
* A big thanks to Eddy for the reminder about this film.
I wish I could tell you more about Chinese American singer Beatrice Fung Oye, but I've only found a few scraps of information, mostly from Billboard and some of the New York gossip columns of the day.
I can't confirm when she started to sing professionally, but by June of 1942 Beatrice was performing at Louise's Monte Carlo in New York City. "Fung Oye, Chinese, is a cute, young thing who sings pops in a pleasant enough voice and with vivacity. In her 15th week here, her popularity continues to grow" (Billboard, October 3). Billboard listings indicate that she stayed on at the Monte Carlo through the rest of '42.
The following year she performed for a few months at the Ubangi — where she was "the first non-Negro" to sing at the club (Billboard, February 20) — before moving on to Leon & Eddie's in May. Beatrice was still playing at Leon & Eddie's a year later, although I've found no proof whether she sang there exclusively.
During this time her name popped up occasionally in the New York gossip columns, which were syndicated in newspapers across the country. Walter Winchell mentioned her as "the cute little Chinese girl soliciting funds for China Relief at 57th and 5th" (October 31, 1942), and according to Dorothy Kilgallen, the "chanteuse at Leon & Eddie's is mad about Mexican chili con carne — and what's more, she eats it with chopsticks!" (May 5, 1943).
In 1945 Beatrice got a big break when she was selected as one of the winners of ABC's On Stage Everybody talent contest (The Abilene Reporter-News, April 7). The prize was a role in the Universal musical based on ABC's popular radio show. Here's a photo of her with five of the ten winners. The movie opened in July, and that fall Beatrice toured the country with a vaudeville unit composed of performers from the cast.
Newspaper ad from The Salt Lake Tribune (October 21, 1945)
After her brush with national fame, Beatrice returned to New York City and sang at the China Doll, the East Coast equivalent of San Francisco's Forbidden City. She was evidently still newsworthy enough to appear on the Broadway gossip radar. Columnist Danton Walker revealed this amusing bit of trivia: "When Beatrice Fung Oye, the Brooklyn-born Chinese prima donna, goes to Dodgers games she yells at the umpire in Chinese" (December 1, 1947).
Newspaper ad from The New York Times (April 15, 1947)
In 1951–52, she hit the road with Tom Ball's China Doll Revue, performing alongside "Chop Suey" veterans Ming & Ling and Florence Hin Lowe. And that's the last trace of Beatrice I can find.
Luckily, I was able to track down a copy of On Stage Everybody, so let's end this post with a rare glimpse of Brooklyn swing diva Beatrice Fung Oye!
The pantalette gown has reached the Pacific Coast. The first person to wear it in Oregon was Jue Quon Tai, the belle of Portland's Chinatown and daughter of a wealthy Chinese merchant. Miss Jue has stage aspirations.
— Evening Public Ledger, March 24, 1915
In August I'll be picking up the threads of Jue Quon Tai's fascinating story, which I started telling nearly a year ago and then left dangling in midair. Since then, I've been contacted by members of her family and have gathered more information and material about her life. In the meantime you can refresh yourself about her 1915 vaudeville debut here.
Elizabeth Jean, Kim Wong, and Helen Kim (left to right)
I don't know too much about The Wongettes besides that they were the house dancers at Andy Wong's Chinese Skyroom. According to a program reproduced in Trina Robbins' book Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs, the girls performed numbers such as "Chino Soy" (Chinese Rhumba), "La Conga", and "Kicking the Gong Around" (I'd love to see their interpretation of this Cab Calloway song).
Here's a short piece about the tantalizing trio from the March 1941 issue of The Coast:
Chinese Society Girls Become Chinese Skyroom Dance Trio
For weeks, the sports-about-town have been gathering every afternoon at the Chinese Skyroom bar to inspire a squad of Chinatown debs in their effort to become chorus girls.
Now, three of the squad have graduated and are part of the the Chinese Skyroom show. They're the luscious Wongettes (after Boss Andy Wong), who, as you can see in pic [above], are not hard to look at; more than that, they've really learned how to dance. You can see them three times per show any of these nights.
The rest of the squad — fourteen of Chinatown's blue-bloods — are still in rehearsal, will make their dancing debut soon.
And finally, check out this cool matchbook. The striking Wongettes are just the thing to light your fire!
Tonight was the opening gala for the Swinging Chinatown exhibit at the Old Mint in San Francisco. It was an absolutely fabulous celebration of Trina Robbin's new book Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs and the pioneering Asian American performers who created stages of their own on which to fulfill their dreams.
Honestly, I was so excited to be there that I was unable to savor the amazing collection of photographs and memorabilia on display. Curator Kristin Morris, of the San Francisco Museum and Historical Society, did an outstanding job of organizing the exhibit, which exceeded by leaps and bounds my already high expectations. Besides the images that appear in Trina's book, there were fantastic photos from the collection of the Chinese Historical Society of America, as well as two from my own collection.
As for the performances, I don't think I stopped grinning the whole time the show was going on. The Grant Avenue Follies performed three numbers ("Chinatown, My Chinatown", "Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing", and "All that Jazz"); Jimmy Borges, who flew in from Hawaii, rocked the mike with two tunes (including one he wrote just for the occasion, "I Found My Heart in San Francisco"), and The Shanghai Pearl turned up the heat with a classic striptease and fan dance. Emcee Ben Fong-Torres kept the proceedings smooth, spontaneous, and funny.
I took lots of pictures, but unfortunately I wasn't able to make the best of my brand new 100-buck Kodak. Here are a few that came out all right.
The Grant Avenue Follies proving that you're never too old to swing
Burlesque bird of paradise The Shanghai Pearl flashing her feathers
Two photos from my own collection, showing choreographer Walton Biggerstaff
Yours truly with the truly wonderful Trina Robbins
The exhibit is only open for seven days: Friday, February 12 to Monday, February 15 and Friday, February 19 to Sunday, February 21; noon to 5pm. If you live nearby or are passing through the area, do not miss this rare and precious glimpse of the Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs. I know I'll be making another visit!
That's lovely contortionist Florence Hin Lowe on the cover of Billboard (January 8, 1944), an event which was probably the zenith of her twenty-odd-year career. Inside the magazine was the following account of how she got into show business.
FLORENCE HIN LOWE 'China's Sock Contortionist'
"You have to work pretty hard." These six words sum up a modest self-estimate of the talent which has made Florence Hin Lowe's contortion acts one of the socks of showbiz.
It took more than hard work to get Florence Hin Lowe near a stage at all. She is Chinese, and the Chinese view the theater with somewhat more than suspicion. There was a lot of determination involved before she got her Canton-born parents to let her attend acrobatic school at the age of seven. And there were a lot of raised eyebrows in the Los Angelese Chinese community when she went.
However, Flo fooled them all. At 8 she played the Paramount Theater in Los Angeles, at 11 she was on the stage at Grauman's Chinese Theater there. When she was 12, her parents gave up their dried goods business and moved Flo and her aerial somersaults to Chicago.
She's been a sock ever since. In Vancouver, B.C., the Chinese community declares a holiday when she hits town. In Washington, the Chinese ambassador's wife brought the whole embassy staff to see her.
However, being a regular show-stopper hasn't spoiled Florence in the least. If you try to talk to her about her act, she just blushes and says:
"Well, you have to work pretty hard."
And work hard she did. Although her career may not have been glamorous by Hollywood standards, Florence undoubtedly had plenty of great stories to tell after she retired.
That's her on the left when she was just 10 years old, performing at the commencement of a Los Angeles dancing program (Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune, August 7, 1930).
In 1937 she was the lead act of Ted Mack's "Precision Rhythm Orchestra and Revue (The Ogden Standard-Examiner, October 12).
In 1941 Florence was traveling with veteran showman A.B. Marcus, "a sort of road show Ziegfeld", whose revues were "comprised of those sure fire staples of 'flesh' entertainment — plenty of beautiful girls, a good chorus line, an exotic dancer or two, a sprinkling of variety acts and some dependable comics" (Syracuse Herald-Journal, March 1). Evidently, the company of more than 60 performers had "recently returned from a three-year world tour, in which they visited many of the principal cities of Japan, China, the Philippine Islands, South Africa, East Africa, India, Burma, Federated Malay states, Straits settlements, Java, Hong Kong, Cuba, and a return run in Mexico" (The Charleston Gazette, August 17, 1941).
In 1942 Florence was performing in Reno at the State Line Country Club in a floor show headlined by an act called Chick and Lee, "Nitwits of Nonsense" (Reno Evening Gazette, July 30). Now that's show business for you!
In 1943 she was still doing her "rubber-body stuff", this time at New York's Folies Bergere Theater-Restaurant, in a Chinese production number that also included Forbidden City alumni Noel Toy, Jadine Wong, and Li Sun (Billboard, June 12).
Ad in Billboard magazine (August 8, 1943)
By 1949 Florence was performing at town fairs, like the Great Hagerstown Fair in Hagerstown, Maryland, and the Eastern Carolina Agricultural Fair in Florence, South Carolina (in 1950). The description of her act in the Hagerstown newspaper suggests that she had perhaps reached the bottom of the entertainment circuit: "The Lily Lady is pleasant, smiling and good to look at. There is no doubt but what the audience will shout for more when they see this charming performer go through her unusual routines in front of the grandstand" (The Daily Mail, September 16, 1949). Oh dear!
Thankfully, it seems that she climbed back up the ladder, at least to the theater-restaurants of Reno. In late 1951, she was performing at the Hotel Golden, and also with Tom Ball's China Doll Revue, headlined by "Chinese Hillbillies" Ming & Ling.
Well, that's all I know. I'm curious to find out the ending of her story. If anyone out there happens to know what happened to Florence Hin Lowe, the Chinese Wonder Girl, do let me know.
Okay folks — get ready for something really special! The San Francisco Museum and Historical Society will be hosting an exhibition in celebration of Trina Robbins' new book Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs.
The fabulous photo you see above is just one example of the precious ephemera that will be on display at the museum's new home in San Francisco's Old Mint. Because the building is still being prepared, the Swinging Chinatown exhibit will only be open for a very limited time: Friday, February 12 to Monday, February 15 and Friday, February 19 to Sunday, February 21; noon to 5pm.
If you live in the Bay Area, do not miss this rare opportunity to glimpse this glamorous and groundbreaking chapter of Chinese American history. The exhibit will include more than 100 vintage photographs, dancer Ellen Chin's costumes and gold dancing shoes, Tony Wing's tap shoes, as well as menus, napkins, and other memorabilia from San Francisco's Chinese nightclubs.
Ellen Chin's gold dancing shoes
But wait — there's more! On Thursday, February 11 there will be an opening gala. The tickets are rather steep, but it's for a good cause — to raise funds for the museum. Besides, the event promises to be a night to remember. Local journalist and radio personality Ben Fong-Torres will be master of ceremonies. The Grant Avenue Follies will be providing entertainment, as will former Forbidden City singers Ellie Chui and Jimmy Borges; and contemporary burlesque performer The Shanghai Pearl will be demonstrating precisely why she is known as the Princess of Pulchritude. Finally, let's not forget the grand dame of the evening, the sweet and charming Trina Robbins, who made all of this possible.
Lately I've been trying to track down the movie appearances of various Forbidden City performers. Needless to say, they are few and far between, and often not what they promise to be.
Noel Toy, the most famous exotic dancer of the Chinese nightclub era, is the headline act at a San Francisco strip club in the Betty Grable movie How To Be Very, Very Popular (1955). I wasn't exactly surprised when I read in the movie synopsis that she plays the murder victim who sets the plot in motion, but I was pretty disappointed when I finally saw the movie. Can you believe that she doesn't even get to dance before she gets killed?!
Chinese Skyroom owner Andy Wong and exotic dancer Barbara Yung are listed as appearing in the Frank Sinatra film Pal Joey (1957), but when I watched the movie, they were nowhere to be seen, at least not on the DVD.
Dance team Jadin Wong and Li Sun allegedly appear in Around the World (1944), a musical comedy showcasing Kay Kiser and his band as they trot the globe entertaining U.S. troops. When the band stops in Chungking, you'd think it would be the perfect opportunity for Jadin Wong and Li Sun to strut their steps — but what the eff?! Where did they go?
Is this some kind of conspiracy? In a color-blind industry, some of these talented folks could have been stars. But in Hollywood, they simply disappeared.
Lucky for us, there are two performers who, by comparison, are well represented on celluloid: Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing. I won't bother telling their story, since it's readily available elsewhere.
You can read about Dorothy in Aging Artfully by Amy Gorman (available here on Google Books).
And don't miss this wonderful documentary made by Rick Quan (the first Chinese American sports anchor in the United States and a familiar face on Bay Area television for more than 20 years).
Okay, enough sour grapes. Let's enjoy the sizzling Toy and Wing in the musical short Deviled Ham (1937).
Here are three reviews from Billboard magazine of San Francisco's top Chinese nightclubs during the 1940s. They provide a great snapshot of that era.
You'll notice that Walton Biggerstaff is credited for the productions at all three clubs. He also trained many of the dancers back then. I'll have more to share about him later.
I was also surprised to see a few names that I'd never come across before, like Chinese Skyroom "showstopper" Roberta Wing and cavorting trumpet player Prince Gum Low. Just more proof that, in spite the wealth of material presented in Arthur Dong's documentary and Trina Robbins' new book, there are still more stories waiting to be told.
And of course, who can resist the enticing promise of the Wongettes and their "snappy cake-walk routine"! More about them later, as well.
Well, without further ado, please give a hand for the talented Asian American performers of "The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs"...
Kubla Khan, San Francisco
Talent Policy: Dance band and floorshows at 7:30, 9:30 and 12. Owner, Eddie Pond. Prices: $1.50 minimum. Dinner from $2.50.
Whole Show: good; features Chinese acts and dance line; well received.
Best Job: FRANCES CHUN, thrush with deep qualities; on order of Frances Langford; "juke box medley" outstanding; socko.
Other Acts: JADIN and LI-SUN, dancers; individual stylists; flair for comedy; work well together. MAE LEE, singer; does semi-classics and light opera; clear, pleasing soprano; good hand. PRINCESS LOO HING, fem magician; works alone; tricks standard. ELEANOR YOUNG, Chinese Carmen Miranda; graceful, good voice; sells okay. KUBLA DANCERS (6), pretty group in several Walton Biggerstaff produced numbers; gowned gorgeously.
Band: BILL OETKE'S RUMBEROS (8) play a snappy show and hip-shaky numbers. Owner Eddie Pond emcees. Business capacity.
Edward Murphy
— Billboard, August 11, 1945
Chinese Skyroom, San Francisco
Talent Policy: Dancing and Floorshows at 8, 10 and 12. Owner-manager, Andy Wong; production, Walton Biggerstaff. Prices: $1.50 minimum; no cover.
Strictly a Chinese line-up. The Six Wongettes get things started with a snappy cake-walk routine. Gals are fresh-looking and put plenty of punch in their dancing. Costumes are abbreviated but gorgeous. Mirth spot in show handled by Prince Kim Low [Prince Gum Low], who literally blows himself blue in the face with satirical trumpet solos. Paunchy, yet light on his feet, the prince cavorts with the patrons. Gets hearty laughs.
Sweetly lyrical is Beatrice Tom, a cute lark who does well with Embraceable You and I've Got the World on a String. Has good microphone poise. A shot of the sensational is Ah Wing, magician, who baffles with a fire-eating act and ekes gasps from ringsiders by poking a flaming fire-stick down his gullet.
Kim and Jessica Wong put a touch of the Oriental in a rumba number. Makes for good entertainment. Plenty of hand-clapping. Showstopper, however, is Roberta Wing, petite vocalist with a style all her own. Has plenty of verve and a catchy lilt to her voice. Especially good in Tampico and Rosemary. Begged off after taking five encores.
Finale is a madhouse, with the entire troupe milling around to Begin the Beguine. Suave Sammy Tong emcess. Don Ferrara's ork (6) backs up show effectively.
— Billboard, April 20, 1946
Forbidden City, San Francisco (Saturday, December 28)
Talent Policy: Floorshows at 8, 10 and 12. Owner-operator, Charlie Low; manager, Frank Huie. Prices: $1.50 minimum.
Clicks could be heard all over the room as Charlie Low unfolded his new Chinese Gay '90s with all-Chinese talent. Produced by Walton Biggerstaff, the revue is fast moving, picturesque and is drawing oodles of clientele in a sagging market.
Opened with the Forbidden City Debutantes (8) and Bobby Wong in a medley. Girls, in old-fashioned gowns, and boys in loud, striped suits, danced thru the medley for a good mitt. Larry Ching soloed oldies and was rewarded with a solid hand.
Three boys and three girls got top reception for their Floradora sextet bit in which they mixed old waltz songs and dance numbers. Low, who emceed the show, then brought on Ching for more oldies, and he encored with Daisy, Old Gray Bonnet, and When You Wore a Tulip. Much applause.
Comedy highlight was Toy Yat Mar, ordinarily the fem chirp star, who appeared with two chorines garbed in ballet costumes to do a Belles of the Ballet number. Good for three encores. The Mei Lings followed with a graceful Merry Widow and a fast Cuddle Up. Miss Mar then came on again in a brace of Sophie Tuckerish tunes.
A French can-can closed. Henry Abramson's ork (7) did an okay job on show and dancing. Room was full.
Here's the article from Collier's (February 28, 1942) which accompanied that deliciously lurid photo of Joy Ching I posted last weekend.
There's a nice bit about singer Li Tei Ming, Charlie Low's second wife and also one of the reasons he opened Forbidden City. The description of her singing "Loch Lomond" ("a swing version with Congo rhythms, with an accent partly Scots-Pacific Coast and partly 'Way Down South Cantonese") really drives home the connection between the Chinese American nightclub performers of the 1940s and vaudevillians of the early century like Lee Tung Foo.
It's also interesting to read that "in some of the clubs half the patronage is Chinese". This goes against the general impression I've gotten that the audiences were mainly non-Asian tourists and servicemen.
Finally, let me add my two cents about the oft-repeated assertion, mentioned below, that the reason clubs such as Forbidden City hired all-white bands was because Chinese American musicians just couldn't play Western music. Well, I recently learned that by the 1930s Chinatown already had two dance orchestras: the Chinatown Knights and the Cathayans. In fact, Andy Wong, who opened the Chinese Sky Room, used to be a trumpeter in the Chinatown Knights. Evidently he once hired some of his fellow band members to play at his club, and guess what — they were picketed by the local musician's union, which excluded Chinese Americans from membership at the time. Now, that puts the issue in a new light, doesn't it?
CATHAY HEY-HEY! BY JIM MARSHALL
It took seventy-five years to break down Chinatown's ban against its daughters dancing and singing for the barbaric whites — but now look at them.
It was a bit confusing until you got the hang of it. This pretty American girl — Li Tei Ming — who was pure Chinese and a philosophy major from the University of Washington, was singing Loch Lomond, a swing version with Congo rhythms, with an accent partly Scots-Pacific Coast and partly 'Way Down South Cantonese.
"By birth and sentiment I'm an American," explained Miss Li, just to clear everything up, "but professionally I'm Chinese, and I can also sing Loch Lomond with an Irish brogue, a Cockney accent or in the South American way."
This made everything as plain as your Grandaunt Emma, but things went haywire again when a Chinese waiter, speaking Spanish with a Texas drawl, came around and served a long Cuban drink to a tiny, gray-haired, feet-bound Chinese woman in a long, black Mandarin gown, who spoke nothing but the Cantonese singsong.... All this was in a night club called the Forbidden City, on Sutter Street in San Francisco, and was part of a scenario titled The Triump of American Folkways over Orientalism.
Until recently the Chinese in America held out pretty well against the mad customs of the Americans. Although, as the years passed, more and more "Chinese" were born here and educated in American schools, the stern family rule of the Orient held sway. The children learned Cantonese and were not allowed to have much truck with the barbaric whites, most of whom couldn't trace back their ancestors more than three generations. Then along came the war, and we became China's ally against the common enemy, and things changed.
It Used to Be Different
Up to three years ago San Francisco's Chinatown — the biggest Chinese city in the Western Hemisphere — maintained its customs and dignities almost untouched by the West. It was — and still is — under the iron rule of the Six Companies, which mete out justice and keep order so well that the appearance of a Chinese in a city court has always been a rarity.
The Chinese had their own theaters and amusements but, as a concession to the tourist trade, maintained occasional tong wars and trick opium dens, many of the former being dreamed up in dull nights in the police-station press room. A tong, actually, is just the Celestial version of the Rotary, or Elks or Moose, but tradition insists that any gunnery or hatcheting in Chinatown is a tong war and that's all there is to it.
There was a lot of critical chatter around the Six Companies headquarters in 1936 when a rebel named Charley Low opened a cocktail bar on Grant Avenue. No Chinese girl was allowed inside, and at first no Chinese came. Tourists did, though, so many of them that in 1938 Charley had Confucius twirling in his grave at the opening of the first Chinese night club on the American plan.
It was tough going, because the ban against Chinese girls in such barbarous places still held and, to top that, no one ever has been able to assemble half a dozen Chinese into a band capable of playing Western music. The boys from South China just can't get those Congo rhythms. Bands in Chinese clubs are white, to this day.
When Charley did succeed in getting a dozen girls as dancers and singers, it still was hard to teach them American dance steps — although they were all American-born and educated. A Chinese-girl dance line still is far behind the Rockettes, but since it is becoming increasingly hard for Americans to discover any rhythm in today's music, nobody minds much.
At first, only tourists patronized Chinese night clubs, expecting to whiff opium smoke and maybe see a hatchet or two flying. All they saw was Miss Joy Ching (Home Economics, University of Chicago) doing a strip tease as The Girl in the Gilded Cage; and Miss Mary "Butch" Ong dancing along with the Misses Ruby Chew, Rose Chan, Ruth Lee, Minnie Yuke, Eleanor Wong and Faye Ying, who were being the Chinese Floradora Sextet at the moment.
Too New for Sophistication
After a while, the San Franciscans themselves began dropping around to Chinese night spots, and finally the older Chinese themselves peeked in to see what was going on and became regulars. In some of the clubs half the patronage is Chinese.
Now, there are more than a hundred Chinese girl entertainers and waitresses in Chinatown's dozen clubs and bars, but many of the old Chinese families still forbid their daughters to appear in floor shows or mingle in cocktail lounges with people from outlandish places like Iowa and New York.
China changes slowly, and the night club idea still is so new that there is, among the girls, none of the hard-boiled sophistication that is the trademark of their white sisters in Eastern American cities. They're more like a bunch of college kids having a good time — and in fact, more than two thirds of them are graduates of Western universities.
The entertainment is happy-go-lucky, and astounded patrons are sometimes enthralled when the lad handling the spotlight lets go all holds and tries out a white searchlight on a fan dancer instead of the traditional misty blue. And Miss Ching, who poses almost n-k-d at times, has a very fine appendicitis scar two and one-eighth inches in length, and thinks nothing of it. No customer has ever complained.
Most of the entertainers are versatile and a favorite amusement of the line girls is translating American songs into Cantonese — in which language they become even more baffling than in the original. Li Tei Ming, who stars as a singer in the Forbidden City show, not only designed the club layout, but painted the murals.
Every Chinese entertainer imitates some American, and the club floors are crowded with Chinese Bing Crosbys, Chinese Sally Rands, Chinese Maxine Sullivans and Chinese Fred Astaires.
Success of the Chinese invasion of the entertainment field has resulted in the making of Chinese talkies in San Francisco. With the usual Oriental economy a Chinese director can take a thousand feet of negative and make nine hundred ninety-nine feet of movie out of it. The result appalls Hollywood, but wows Chinatown, where the kids gather around for autographs when Chinese stars, unknown to the West, attend premieres. And in Los Angeles, where a brand-new Chinatown has been built, there is going to be a theater for producing Chinese plays in English — or as much of an eight-hour Chinese drama as the white race can take at a gulp.
There's one Western custom no Chinese girl entertainer will surrender to, however. She won't bleach her hair. There are no Chinese blondes — and there never will be.
Presented as an oral history, the book records the recollections of nearly two dozen Asian American performers who worked in San Francisco's "all-Chinese" revues from the late 1930s through the 60s. The transcribed interviews of the artists, and their friends and relatives, paint an intimate portrait of this unique cultural scene. Profiled are some of the better known alumni of the Forbidden City nightclub — like singers Larry Ching and Frances Chun and dancers Dorothy Toy, Tony Wing, and Jadin Wong — as well as other performers I'd never heard of before, such as:
Ellen Chinn, Forbidden City dancer and, according to news of the day, "possessor of Chinatown's most beautiful pair of legs"
Mai Tai Sing, Forbidden City dancer who later ran a cocktail lounge (The Ricksha) in SF Chinatown and played a bit part in the 1960 TV show Hong Kong, starring Rod Taylor
Coby Yee, "China's Most Daring Dancing Doll", an exotic dancer who performed off and on at the Forbidden City and later bought the club from founder Charlie Low in the mid-60s
Cynthia Yee, dancer in Dorothy Toy's various revues, Miss Chinatown of 1967, and founder of the Grant Avenue Follies
One of the best things about the book are the more than 200 illustrations, ranging from newspaper ads and magazine articles to family photos and glamor shots. They are absolutely priceless. It's too bad that Forbidden City wasn't packaged as a glossy coffee table book instead of a humble softcover edition.
My only legitimate complaint is that the book lacks a strong organizational structure and design. Individuals are presented without a clear introduction, which makes it is easy to get lost when reading the book for the first time. In addition, the book could have benefited from a little more historical background to help set the stage for these pioneering performers.
Nevertheless, the social context can be gleaned from within the stories. And I'm grateful that Trina chose to include three particular documents which serve as forceful reminders of the racial barriers existing at the time: namely, official letters from the state bars of Idaho, Nevada, and Utah denying a marriage license to dancer Ellen Chinn and her sweetheart Robert Price. In the words of the State Bar of Nevada: "It is a crime in the State of Nevada for persons of the Caucasian or white race to intermarry with any person of the Ethiopian or black race, Malay or brown race, or Mongolian or yellow race." I must admit, that one sentence sets the stage as well as any introductory essay.
In spite of the misgivings mentioned above, I wholeheartedly recommend Forbidden City to any one interested in the fascinating era of America's Chinese nightclubs. It is an invaluable resource that will undoubtedly spur further appreciation for the rich history of Asian American performers.
Trina Robbin's new book Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs has just been published and is available directly from the publisher (and also from Amazon). I'll post my thoughts about the book as soon as I get my hands on it, but in the meantime here's the Life magazine article (December 9, 1940) that brought Charlie Low's Forbidden City to national attention. A scan of the original is available here.
BTW, the two dancers with the lassos at top are Mary Mammon (left) and Dorothy Sun (right), who also appear in the photo just beneath. Closing this post is the inimitable Jadin Wong. I'll have more to share about these ladies in the coming weeks.
Finally, for an interesting and nuanced examination of the Orientalism served up at the Forbidden City nightclub, check out Anthony Lee's book Picturing Chinatown: Art and Orientalism in San Francisco (2001). As he writes, "The acts played on the distinction between the race of the performer and the race being performed in ways that revealed the contingency and malleability of both."
As a matter of fact, this strategy harkened back to the early days of vaudeville when Chinese American entertainers, like Lee Tung Foo and Jue Quon Tai, carved out a niche for themselves on the stage and in the public eye by performing a unique blend of yellowface and whiteface.
As you can see in the article below, Chinese American performers in the 1940s were still navigating the conflicting expectations of what it meant to be a Chinese living in America.
Life Goes to the "Forbidden City" San Franciscans pack Chinatown's No. 1 night club
At 363 Sutter Street in San Francisco stands "Forbidden City", the No. 1 all-Chinese night club in the U.S. Here each evening Californians flock to watch a talented floor show that ranges from slumberous oriental moods to hot Western swing. San Francisco is numerically ill-equipped with Broadway-style cabarets. Its citizenry eats at home, dances at hotels. When "Forbidden City" opened two years ago, it filled a local cultural need. It has prospered ever since.
In decor, "Forbidden City" blandly jumbles rice-paper screens, lighted fishbowls, college colors and football trophies. Somehow the net result is satisfactory. Its tri-nightly floor show as blandly scrambles congas, tangos, tap numbers and snaky stuff from the Far East. Chinese girls have an extraordinary aptitude for Western dance forms. As singers, not many achieve success according to occidental standards. But slim of body, trim of leg, they dance to any tempo with a fragile charm distinctive to their race. Opposite you see gracious Jadine Wong performing her chaste "Dance of the Moon Goddess".
Let the following be a lesson that all "truth" is provisional — especially here on this blog!
A couple of months ago I posted two songs allegedly recorded by vaudeville duo Ming and Ling. Ever since Nick Tosches added a chapter about them in the revised edition of his book Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n' Roll (1991), these "Chinese Hillbillies" became something of a cult item among rock music aficionados. And their legendarily obscure singles — "records so strange that they defy description" — took on a decidedly Holy Grail sheen.
Although Tosches acknowledges in his book that there may have been more than one Ming and Ling — and that the duo who recorded these wild rock-and-roll songs might not be the vaudeville duo who performed throughout the forties and fifties — his enthusiasm is so contagious that you want to believe they are one and the same.
Well, it turns out that this is not the case. I was recently contacted by Ling's son-in-law John Buckley, who set the record straight about Ming & Ling.
The duo only performed live and never made any recordings. Contrary to the story they gave the press, they are not cousins but in fact father and son. Ling's real name is Gregory Paguio, and he is not Chinese but half-Filipino and half-Irish. His father Ming's real name is Jose T. Paguio. Jose had played in vaudeville for many years before asking Gregory, who was just 17 at the time, to join him on the stage in 1940.
The two performed as Ming & Ling for more than twenty years until Jose's retirement in 1962, after which Gregory led an Oriental revue produced by former Forbidden City dancer Dorothy Toy. For the next five years Gregory toured the West Coast and Asia before retiring in 1967. I'm guessing that's him in the ad, surrounded by a bevy of Oriental dolls and looking very James Bond! Here's what one reviewer had to say about the show: "Toy, Ling and Oriental Revue at Three Rivers Inn shouldn't be missed by any who appreciates lively, daring, beautiful girls, Hawaiian songs and dances, Geisha Girl Shows, and fabulous costumes. M.C. Bob Ling surprises the audience with his delightful impersonations of Perry Como [and] Dean Martin" (The Syracuse Post-Standard, September 30, 1966).
Well, it's good to finally know the truth about Ming & Ling's alleged recordings. Although this may technically disqualify them from being "Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n' Roll", they remain one of the most fascinating acts from the twilight years of vaudeville. Now, if we can only get our hands on their 1949 appearance on the "The Milton Berle Show"!
Many thanks to John Buckley for contacting me and generously providing the photos of Ming & Ling. If you are interested in learning more, feel free to email him (buckley1969@gmail.com).
Finally, let me give a shout out to John's son Brian Buckley, who is himself an up-and-coming singer-songwriter, and to "Ling", who is still with us today.
Remembering the good old days: Jose and Gregory Paguio
Here's a funny little piece featuring vaudeville singer Jue Quon Tai's observations about stage-door Johnnies. It is also the earliest mention that I've found of her ambition to become an opera star.
Chinese Prima Donna Finds Johnnies Are in Lead in America
The Chinese produce few stage-door Johnnies — but America has an output that can't be beaten!
So declares Jue Quon Tai, fair Chinese singer, who says that during several visits to Oakland she has met both kind — and counted them. Here's her ratio:
Chinese Johnnies — they call them "Yuan" in Chinese — 3.
American Johnnies — 44.
German Johnnies — 6.
French Johnnies — 14.
"Every night I find one of 'em at the stage door — perhaps two or three. The American Johnny doesn't know his business — he's all 'rough and stuff' — thinks all he has to do is bring flowers or something and meet a girl. The Chinese Johnny tries to tell you he knew your parents in Canton. The German Johnny says he's studying sociology, and wants to study you.
"The greatest place for Johnnies in America is Los Angeles. Next to that comes San Francisco."
Miss Tai, who is famed as the most beautiful woman of her race, was educated in America, and speaks several languages. Her ambition is to be an opera star, and she has already received considerable notice through her rendition of "Madame Butterfly". She is now touring a western vaudeville circuit, and is at present an Oakland visitor.
From the George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress)
Earlier this year I had the pleasure of introducing you to Jue Quon Tai, the chain smoking, slang talking, 19-year-old Chinese princess turned vaudeville singer. Although practically unknown today, Jue Quon Tai was evidently quite a sensation when she made her debut in 1915. Her first year in vaudeville is very well documented in newspapers of the time. Because the articles present such a fascinating look at how she was received by the American press, I've decided to transcribe and post them here in their entirety as primary material for further research. It's a lot to read, but if you are at all curious about the early history of Chinese American performers, I think you will find it worth your while.
Reading the articles together, in the order of their appearance, you can see the tension between Jue Quon Tai's identity as a Chinese American and her persona — whether created by herself, her manager, or the press — as an "authentic" Chinese performer on the American stage. By the end of 1915, Quon Tai's story had evolved into a PR-friendly fairy tale about a Chinese princess who fled to America to escape an arranged marriage. Whatever the truths that may have inspired the various newspaper accounts of her life, one fact became increasingly obscured: that Jue Quon Tai was an American citizen.
The first article about Quon Tai that I've been able to find is this one, filed from her hometown of Portland, Oregon. Although it says that she was born in China, I've seen several passenger lists that clearly indicate she was an American citizen. (In the book Yellowface, author Krystyn R. Moon claims that Jue Quon Tai was born in Los Angeles, but I've been unable to confirm this.)
Wealthy Chinese Girl Makes Debut on Stage With Wonderful Wardrobe
Portland, Ore., April 10 — Jue Quon Tai, a 19-year-old full-blooded Chinese girl, has come from Portland to the Orpheum at San Francisco for a tryout in Frisco during April. Whether Jue Quon Tai makes good or not during her first attempt makes little difference, as she is the daughter of the richest Chinese on the Pacific coast, born in China, but educated in Portland. Her stage training has been under the direction of R.J. Powell, whose wife accompanies the little Chinese girl on her trip south.
Jue Quon Tai is equipped with a wonderful singing voice. It is a mezzo-soprano of rich timbre. Her act opens full stage with a Chinese garden set. Tai appears as a girl, wearing a gown that was imported for her by her rich dad, and that required more than a year to complete. She changes into a mandarin suit and sings as a boy. This suit has been in her family for years, and represents the fourth order of rank below that of the emperor. Both of her songs in this set are Chinese versions of popular American airs.
She closes in one, with a plush drop, and in conventional American evening gown. Her songs here are English.
The father of Jue Quon Tai has not hesitated on expenses of equipping the act of his little daughter, and it is doubtful if any woman ever went to a stage career with such a wonderful wardrobe as has this little Chinese.
Back of it all is the faith of her American friends that Jue Quon Tai will make good. Her voice is under perfect control, and her tones are of rare sweetness.
—Galveston County Daily News, April 11, 1915
A week later, Quon Tai received the following notice in the Oakland Tribune.
When a pretty Chinese girl sings an American ragtime song, and American ragtime is next handled by an American artist in that sort of music, one gets a pretty fair idea of the different things that can be done with syncopated melody — and shoulders. Wherefore the "Ragtime Duel" at the Pantages between Jue Juon Tai [sic], fair Chinese singer, and Carl McCullough, noted musical comedy star, is more than interesting. Miss Tai, who is very pretty, is a charming singer, and uses all the tricks known to the American artist. McCullough, late star of "The Pink Lady," is also an artist. The battle at the Pantages yesterday was a draw.
—Oakland Tribune, April 19, 1915
Quon Tai seems to have caused quite a sensation. Three days later she was hailed in the Tribune as "the most beautiful Chinese girl in the world".
EXCELS WESTERN BEAUTY? ARTISTS RAVE OVER JUE QUON TAI ORIENT'S DAUGHTER FAIR
Jue Quon Tai, Chinese Girl of Oakland, Who Has Been "Discovered" as the Ideal Impressionist Type and Is Pronounced the Most Beautiful Chinese Woman in the World
Poster girls in Greek garb?
Never!
Poster girls a la Corregio?
Passe!
The Chinese girl has come into her own as the ideal type for the new style of art! And the ideal poster girl of the world has been found in Oakland.
She is Jue Quon Tai, declared by artists to be the most beautiful Chinese girl in the world — and she's further declared to have the type of features the impressionist artists have been groping toward for years! She's the very hidden sanctuary of beauty, say the critics — the ultimate in ideal form and feature, from the artist's standpoint.
"I consider Miss Tai one of the most remarkable examples of adaptable model I have ever seen," declared Henry Cutting, New York artist, now visiting the Exposition. "By that I mean that one could use her for a model for any subject, from a Madonna to a bacchante. Her face is one of the most wonderful I have ever seen!"
Miss Tai, however, is not going in for art, but is a singer of note. She has been invited to appear at the "Songs of Other Days" concert to be given as the first musical event of the Municipal Auditorium, under the auspices of the Rotary Club and Alameda County Music Teachers' Association. A great chorus of 350 voices and a number of noted soloists are to be heard in the old-time songs dear to all. Miss Tai has been invited to sing in some of these, and also some Chinese folk songs, that the two types of music may be compared.
—Oakland Tribune, April 22, 1915
In another article from the Oakland Tribune (May 9, 1915), it was noted that Jue Quon Tai had been signed to perform on the Pantages vaudeville circuit after her debut in Oakland at the Orpheum-Tribune's "Discovery Night". On April 28, 1915, she was already on the road and playing at the Pantages theater in Salt Lake City, Utah. Here is a review of her performance.
Jue Quon Tai, a Cantonese beauty, is as captivating as she is unusual, and her title of "The Chinese Nightingale" is well merited. Possessed of a wonderfully sweet voice, and with perfect enunciation, she charms the audience both with her singing and her charming personality. Her act is beautifully staged in the coloring of the Orient, and Miss Tai appears in marvelous costuming.
—Salt Lake Tribune, May 2, 1915
One week later, she was in Winnipeg, Manitoba, the official starting point of the Pantages Circuit. It is here that Jue Quon Tai starts to be portrayed as a native Chinese girl ("highly Oriental") who "has been in America for some little time" rather than a Chinese American girl from Portland, Oregon.
Jue Quon Tai, Singer, Starts Tour Here
An unusual feature on next week's bill at the Pantages theatre will be the first appearance in America, of a renowned Chinese singer, Jue Quon Tai, who is known in the atmosphere of Oriental theatredom as the Canton beauty. Distinguished in her own native land, the appearance of Juo Quon Tai on the Pantages stage will make a feature as unusual as it is highly Oriental. The singer has been in America for some little time, and was engaged by Alexander Pantages at San Francisco for a tour of the circuit. Her first professional career of this continent, therefore, begins in Winnipeg next week.
—Manitoba Free Press, May 8, 1915
A few days into her engagement in Winnipeg, a more factual account of Jue Quon Tai appeared in the papers. I found her insistence on being referred to as Chinese American quite cool!
CHINESE-AMERICAN GIRL ON THE STAGE MISS JUE QUONG TAI Who is Headlining the Bill at Pantages This Week
It's a new sensation to meet a Chinese girl — "Chinese American," softly corrected Miss Jue Quong Tai — when one's previous acquaintance with the dwellers from the celestial kingdom has been limited to arguments with a blandly smiling but unyielding laundry man and Ah Sin of Bret Harte fame.
Miss Jue is headlining the bill at the Pantages this week, and not having been long before the footlights, four weeks to be exact, she has not yet had time to grow accustomed to the dazzle. "I like it fine," she drawled softly. "I always wanted to go on the stage, and here I am. My people not care to have me go, but I go just same. They say 'you are no good except as to spend money,' and I guess they're about right that I telegraph home five times already for money and they write 'you are cheaper at home'."
Native of San Francisco Miss Jue is a native of San Francisco as is her mother, but her father hails direct from China. Miss Jue has visited in the land of her forefathers, but did not seem to have had much difficulty in tearing herself away. "Quong Tai is my given name." She proferred the information rather shyly. "My uncle think that up." It means 'may the next baby be a boy'." It appears this thoughtful uncle was very much put out at Miss Jue being a woman child, his brother already having one daughter and one son. "They dress me in boy's clothes for nine years," said Miss Jue, "and then another brother came." It was a great relief to hear that the uncle's disappointment was not life-long. Miss Jue was educated in San Francisco and later in New York. She is a tall, handsome girl with the heavy black tresses and the mystic eyes of her race. But she is a girl all through with a naive confidence in her own star and an undoubted enjoyment of life.
Father Was Opposed "I had quite a time getting started in my profession," she confided. "My father was against it. But I said nothing and went ahead and ordered my scenery. When it came to pay, father was hot. But my mother came through, and after that I should worry."
Asked as to whether she had many calls from her own countrymen, Miss Jue laughed softly. "Why, yes; but they only come to tell me how terribly I am disgracing my people." Evidently this was another time that "she should worry."
—Winnipeg Free Press, May 13, 1915
A month and half later, Jue Quon Tai was being portrayed as a Chinese example of the Western world's "new woman". In spite of the Orientalist zingers tossed off by the writer, Quon Tai keeps it real: "I am going to sing... Chinese songs, maybe next time I come around. [The audience] will laugh, but the songs are very nice, only they don't understand them. The Chinese, you know, had opera thousands of years ago." Of course, most Americans didn't know that. They believed the Chinese were musically inferior. That's why audiences were so surprised to hear Jue Quon Tai sing American tunes in a "sweet voice" with "perfect enunciation".
CHINESE MAID ON STAGE WEARS AMERICAN DRESS; SINGS CHINESE
Spokane, Wash., June 28 — The "new woman" movement in the house of Jue Sue did not bloom and blossom like a rose. For Papa Jue Sue was a mandarin in China, and though now engaged in business in America, clings, nevertheless, to many Oriental ways, particularly the Chinese custom regarding the duties and position of women.
Therefore, when Jue Quong Tai, daughter of Jue Sue, announced that she was going on the stage it created somewhat of a furor in the home of Jue Sue.
But Jue Quong Tai was tired of rich candies and chow fan, and chow men, and pineapple chop suey, and the laziness of an Oriental household. And, besides, her ways were the ways of the Occident, not of the Orient. She wore American clothes — gowns of the very latest design; and, moreover, she wore them well! And, too, she had an American education — having studied in a finishing school at Morristown, N.Y., after a course in the public schools of Portland, Ore.
So Jue Quong Tai, an Americanized product of Chinese aristocracy, went on the stage. Her face, which Artist Henry Cutting said was "the most wonderful I have ever seen," and a good singing voice, were her assets.
"Oh yes, I like it, in the spotlight," said she, in her dressing room. "It is very pleasant to stand out and know people are thinking that maybe you look nice and sing nice. Except sometimes they say I am not Chinese, but only an American girl dressed up. That is not nice.
"I don't sing real rag to them; no, I just sing nice little songs they know. Then I sing 'California' in Chinese. I could sing them ragtime in Chinese, but that would not be entertaining, only funny.
"But I am going to sing them Chinese songs, maybe next time I come around. Then they will laugh, but the songs are very nice, only they don't understand them. The Chinese, you know, had opera thousands of years ago."
Thus said Americanized China, eighteen years old, in a silvery sheath gown. Oh, the honorable ancestors would turn over in their mausoleums could they but see!
—Fort Wayne Sentinel, June 28, 1915
Well, the "honorable ancestors" weren't the only ones turning over in their mausoleums. It seems that White Americans also had trouble wrapping their brains around this audacious Chinese American girl, who refused to confine herself to the prevailing fantasies of East and West.
Stay tuned for more about the amazing Jue Quon Tai!
NOTE: According to the family of Ming and Ling, the songs featured below were NOT recorded by them. See this post for more information.
Several weeks ago I wrote about Ming and Ling, the proto–rock 'n' roll vaudeville duo who performed during the 1940s and 50s. Well, one of my readers, Peter (who has a wonderful blog showcasing his cassette collection of Thai folk pop), kindly posted the link to an archived edition of WFMU's The Hound radio show from June 29, 1991, that featured two of Ming and Ling's rare recordings (probably from early 1950s). Now, at last, we can finally hear why Nick Tosches included these "Chinese Hillbillies" in his book Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n' Roll.
Here they are, folks... the incomparable Ming and Ling!
"Zipper Head Boogie" by Ming and Ling
"Chopsticks" by Ming and Ling
The songs reveal not only the duo's energy and talent but also their slightly twisted sense of humor, one which undoubtedly helped them navigate the awkward place of being an Asian American in America. ("Zipper Head" was a derogatory term for Asians during the Korean War; and "Chopsticks", besides being that utensil which many Americans still struggle with, is also, of course, that old chestnut familiar to anyone who's ever taken piano lessons.)
I also recently found these two short reviews from Billboard magazine that give a pretty good idea of what Ming and Ling's early acts were like.
Outstander is Ming and Ling, two Chinese lads tagged as “Two Hillbillies From the Burma Road.” Wearing mandarin jackets, one plays the accordion and the other sings—but it’s the kind of music and singing least expected. Their opening Chinese lullaby is a scat song. The accordionist surprises with masterful squeezings for the 12th Street Rag, and singer strikes another stance for My Wild Irish Rose. For the finish he joins in with a mouth organ and even sings and yodels to give an authentic Western tang to Red River Valley. Do I Am an American on the recall. Both boys bubble with personality. A cinch for any nitery floor.
—Billboard, April 11, 1942
Evidently, Ming and Ling also performed for a couple of years as a trio with Miss Hoo Shee, a singer and dancer who was billed in the late 40s as "The Oriental Mistress of Charm and Swing".
Oddly enough the act the customers gave the biggest mitt to were the Chinese trio, Ming, Ling and Hoo Shee. Two guys (accordion and guitar) and a girl, dressed in native costume, open slowly, while the gal gives out with a poor Rocking Horse Ran Away. Having gotten this throwaway out its system, group gets down to work. First is a very funny hillbilly number, beautifully underacted. Accordionist, a pint-sized guy, puts the mob in stitches with his toothy grin and bits of business. Segue into a Loch Lomond number pressing down on the Scottish burr. A battle of crooners routine gave the guitarist, a tall lanky guy, a shot at the spot and he really socked. A capable pair of pipes helped him a lot. Team got together for an Ink Spot routine, also sock, and tried to walk off. Big applause brought ‘em back for a comedy juggling bit but act finally had to beg off.
—Billboard, December 16, 1944
It's great to finally hear Ming and Ling and learn a little more about them, but I'm still hungry for more. If you have any leads, let me know!
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."
Given my recent interest in Chinese American vaudeville, I was delighted to discover this article from International Screen No. 29 (March, 1958) about a variety fundraiser organized by Cathay/MP&GI during the Chinese New Year of 1958.
Of special interest is the skit "Northerners & Southerners" which would later be fleshed out by Cathay into a successful trilogy of films (1961-64) playing on the culture clash in Hong Kong between Mandarin-speaking immigrants from northern China and Cantonese speakers from the South. Some of the other acts were derived from previous films — the "Sword Dance" from Our Sister Hedy (1957) — or films then in production — Li Mei and Chen Ho's calypso routine in Calendar Girl (1959).
A scan of the original article is available here (1.9MB PDF).
"Blossoms and Beauties"
In response to the Standard-Sing Tao Newspapers' Fat Choy Drive to raise funds for Hongkong's needy people during the Chinese New Year, Motion Picture and General Investment Co. staged an unprecedented mammoth vaudeville show in which the cream of the Colony's movie workers paraded their talent in singing, dancing, clowning and tear-jerking. That the show was a whopping success was borne out by the fact that the two performances were played to full houses. The 18 items on the entertainment fare were dished out by a big cast of Hongkong's top movie stars, producers and directors.
"Sword Dance" fencers Yeh Feng, Grace Chang, and Lin Tsui
Zhuang Xue Fang and Chang Yang in an artist-and-model sketch
Chen Ho, Wu Jia-xiang, and Wang Lai in the "Magic Doctor" sketch
Li Mei and Chen Ho and their calypso routine
Leung Sing-bo and Liu En-jia in "Northerners & Southerners"
It was a brief notice in an issue of the short-lived Chinese Digest — the first ever English-language magazine produced by and for Chinese Americans — that recently led me to watch my first Shirley Temple film. The news item said that the Chinese music class of St. Mary's Chinese School in San Francisco had been invited to perform in Stowaway (1936).
St. Mary's all-girl Chinese music orchestra (from the August 14, 1936 issue of Chinese Digest)
I had no idea what to expect from the movie and was quite surprised to see Shirley Temple playing a Chinese-speaking orphan named Ching Ching. Evidently, Little Miss Temple learned 500 words of Chinese for her role! Although the story opens in China, most of the film takes place on board a ship bound for San Francisco, with Shirley as the accidental stowaway who manages to charm herself into the lives of two passengers.
The appearance of the St. Mary's orchestra comes when Shirley and her new guardians disembark in Hong Kong for a little shopping and entertainment, which turns out to be a Chinese variety show featuring a young lady dressed in traditional Chinese finery tap dancing as the St. Mary's girls back her up on yangqin and erhu.
That would have been cool enough, but two more surprises were in store for me. The show is hosted by an emcee, introduced in the film as Li Ze Mon, the Major Bowes of China. "Major who?", you say. I didn't know either, but it turns out that Major Bowes was a popular American radio personality who hosted an amateur talent show on the airwaves from 1934 to 1952. He was famous for striking a gong whenever he couldn't stand a performer any longer. (Now I know where The Gong Show comes from!)
I could tell from the demeanor of this Chinese Major Bowes that I was witnessing a seasoned Chinese American stage performer. After a little digging around, I found out that he was none other than Harry Haw, a veteran vaudevillian known, among other titles, as "The Celestial Impressionist".
Harry Haw was born in 1897 in San Francisco Chinatown. He was encouraged to become a performer by the example of his friend Hugh Liang, who was a founding member of the Chung Wah Four, the world's first Chinese barbershop quartet. When the quartet decided to try their luck on Broadway in 1912, Harry begged Hugh to let him travel with them as an understudy. Harry never ended up performing with the Chung Wah Four, but he did start a dancing team with Minnie Don (Don Fung Gue), a sister of one of the quartet.
Newspaper advertisement for Harry Haw and Minnie Don (1913), and a newspaper photograph of Minnie Don (1916)
The duo were billed as "Petite Chinese Terpescorian Artists Presenting the very Latest Dance Crazes" and performed "Chinese Conceptions" of the Tango and the Texas Tommy, as well as sang in both English and Chinese. Around 1917, they started billing themselves as the "Children of Confucius". According to an article in the Fort Wayne Sentinel (June 1, 1917), they could "dance the syncopated steps of the American ballroom in a manner to put to the test the most skilled American exemplars of these dances" and closed their act "with an old-fashioned cake walk with some new fashioned steps interpolated."
By 1924, it appears that Harry was on his own, doing monologues and impressions of famous performers of the day — like Al Jolson — as they would appear on the "Celestial stage".
Harry Haw from the cover of the sheet music for "Yearning Just for You" (ca. 1925)
Sometime around 1926, Harry rechristened himself as the Honorable Wu and put together a revue of Chinese American performers. According to an advertisement in the Oxnard Daily Courier (December 14, 1926), the show featured "A carload of special scenery: Lighting Effects, Beautiful Costumes, Rare Oriental Properties. With 6 Musical Mandarins. The Honorable Wu's Revue. 7 Chinese Chorus Men. The Lotus Blossom Sisters. Harry Haw Impersonating Eddie Cantor. The New Black Bottom Dance. And What a Hula Dancer." By 1930, Harry's revue — billed as "Mr. Wu with his Chinese Show Boat" — featured 20 performers, including an all-girl jazz band. This was a full 75 years before 12 Girls Band charmed American audiences!
There is one more surprise to be found in Stowaway. After the tap dancer and St. Mary's all-girl Chinese music orchestra, Harry Haw introduces a Chinese Bing Crosby and lets him have a go at it before giving him the gong. The fellow impersonating Bing is Sammee Tong, an actor, comedian, and singer who is remembered today only for his role as the houseboy in the 1950s television series Bachelor Father (see TV Guide at left), and often cited in Multicultural and Ethnic Studies texts as an example of the demeaning and embarrassing Asian stereotypes perpetuated in American culture. But back in the 1940s, Sammee Tong was the master of ceremonies at Oakland herbalist Fong Wan's New Shanghai Cafe, where he was billed as "Chinatown's Playboy Songster". I've been unable to find any information about Sammee's career earlier than an uncredited role as a waiter in Charlie Chan in Shanghai (1935). But since he was a San Francisco native, like Harry Haw, it's certainly possible that he was a member of Harry's Chinese revue.
Looked at today, the following clip from Stowaway is a very precious record of the ephemeral history of Chinese American vaudeville.
References
Bridging the Pacific: San Francisco Chinatown and Its People by Thomas W. Chinn
"Cantonese Capers" — that's how the comedy song-and-dance duo Larry and Trudy Leung were billed when they toured the U.S. during 1950 in the vaudeville show "Stars on Parade". Earlier that year, the couple had appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show. That performance, filmed during the early days of live television, lies at the heart of Long Story Short (2008), Christine Choy's documentary about actress Jodi Long and her parents Larry and Trudy. After tracking down a tape of the performance, Jodi screens it for her mother and father — more than 50 years after the event. It's a poignant occasion. Larry claims he doesn't remember any of it, yet mouths all the words of his act. Trudy is equally touched. "It's the first time I ever saw myself on stage... I never saw myself before." As her words sank in, I keenly realized the importance of remembrance and felt gratitude for those who've documented the pioneering Asian American performers of yesteryear.
