The Three Sisters (1957)

Left to right: Qin Qi, Diana Chang, Mai Ling

While we're on the topic of Mai Ling and Asia Pictures, here are some photos from the movie program for The Three Sisters (1957). Not only was it Mai Ling's first film (barring any uncredited appearances she might have made in the studio's previous films), but it was also Taiwan star Diana Chang's first Hong Kong movie. While most people today have probably forgotten about The Three Sisters, many will recognize Diana's hit song, "Barbecue Pork Buns" — thanks, no doubt, to the modern remixes of Stephen Chow and Ian Widgery.

I don't know if the film survives, but from the synopsis I've read, it sounds like a classic story of the older versus younger generation, with the outcome tipped slightly in favor of the new. Qin Qi plays the uptight elder sister, a music teacher and classically trained singer, who disapproves of second sister Diana Chang, who aspires to be a nightclub singer and goes out with "Teddy Boy" King Hu. Mai Ling plays the youngest sister, who with the help of mom tries to bring the family back together again.


Mai Ling and Diana Chang hanging out with "Teddy Boy" (and future wuxia auteur) King Hu


What mischief is little sister Mai Ling up to?


King Hu looking not quite fit enough for the challenge of handling bombshell Diana Chang


How to save a family torn apart by the mambo


Veteran Shanghai director Bu Wancang with Qin Qi, Diana Chang, and Mai Ling

My Girl, Mai Ling

Oldflames is always on the lookout for the things that make me happy, like these two rare magazine covers featuring my favorite star-who-never-made-it Mai Ling. Ever since she scootered her way into my heart last summer, I've become her number one fan.

The Asia Pictorial, the magazine at the bottom of this post, was published by Asia Press, an affiliate of the Asia News Agency, an American-supported organization created to counter Communist influence in Hong Kong and the Chinese communities overseas. Asia News Agency also established a film studio, Asia Pictures, which is where Mai Ling got her start. Unfortunately for her, the studio closed in 1958, after the withdrawal of U.S. funding.

Asia Pictures certainly didn't lack for talent: directors Tang Huang and Bu Wancang and stars Grace Chang, Peter Chen Ho, Chung Ching, and Diana Chang were among those who worked for the studio. Its nine films included The Long Lane (1956), which won Best Screenplay at the 3rd Southeast Asia Film Festival, and Mai Ling's first and only film as a leading lady, The Shoeshine Boy, directed by Shanghai veteran Bu Wancang and co-starring King Hu. Neorealist but with an anti-union message, The Shoeshine Boy competed in the 5th Asian Film Festival (1958) yet evidently wasn't released in Hong Kong until the following year.

After Asia Pictures folded, Mai Ling — with just two pictures under her belt — had to look for work. She found parts in a couple of Cantonese films before being taken under the wing of Tang Huang, who had moved on to Cathay/MP&GI. Cathay's stable was already full of established stars, so it's no surprise that Mai Ling didn't get another chance as leading lady. From 1961 to 1965, she made 7 films at Cathay, while continuing to make Cantonese films on the side (including one with Patricia Lam Fung at Shaw's Cantonese division).

Sometime in early 1964, Mai Ling got married, and hopefully lived a happy life away from the silver screen. Even though she never joined the ranks of well remembered stars like Grace Chang, Lucilla Yu Ming, and Julie Yeh Feng, Mai Ling will always have a special place in the heart of this Hong Kong movie fan.

Toy and Wing: Turning On the Heat

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).


* The entire film is available here.

Take a Tumble with Anna May

Now you can fall in love over and over again with the eminently photogenic Anna May Wong at Anna May, a new tumblr recently set up by Rebecca of Anna May Wong Daily.

I absolutely adore these "photo-cartoons" of Anna May. If anyone knows anything about who made them and where they were published, do let me know.

Hong Kong Cowgirl: Betty Loh Tih

Since I got such a good response for the photos of Li Lihua decked out in her cowgirl duds, I've decided to feature some other Hong Kong cowgirls. Starting things off is Miss Betty Loh Tih, best known as a "Classical Beauty". But as you can see in this pinup from Southern Screen No. 8 (July 1958), she makes quite a fetching — and formidable looking — gunslinger.

Betty sported this outfit in Li Han-hsiang's The Magic Touch (1958) in a sequence where she appears in the dream of suitor King Hu (back in the days before he became a wuxia auteur). In another one of his dreams, she appears as sexy senorita!

Socko: San Francisco's Chinese Nightclubs

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.

Edward Murphy

— Billboard, January 18, 1947

* Forbidden City matchbook courtesy of Johnny Dollar's Vault.

Celestial Avenue: The Tao of Asiaphilia

I recently managed to get my hands on the screener for a wonderful short film called Celestial Avenue (2009) that is currently making the festival rounds. Directed by Colin and Cameron Cairnes, it's a loving poke at Asiaphilia that reminded me of the equally charming Augustin, King of Kung-Fu (1999), which Maggie Cheung made when she moved to France.

I was quite surprised to see that Celestial Avenue was rated so poorly on IMDB. Out of 25 reviewers, 19 gave it a 1. Yikes! I'm not sure how anyone could hate it that much. Maybe it stirred up some violent PC reaction. At the other end of the scale, two gave it an 8, one gave it a 9, and three gave it a 10. I guess you either love it or you hate it. Well, I have no problem placing myself in the minority on this one. As a gweilo who watches mostly Chinese films — including unsubtitled Cantonese films from the 1960s that I can't understand! — I'm certainly accustomed to feeling out of touch with the majority.

Just for the record, Celestial Avenue has won a Silver Award from the Australian Cinematographers Society (the film is beautifully shot) and a Grand Prize for Best Short at the Rhode Island International Film Festival. And I was just informed by director Colin Cairnes that the film has also won the Madman Award for Best Australian Film at Sydney's Flickerfest.

Anyway, I don't want to spoil the story in case you do get a chance to see it. Let me just quote the PR synopsis to give you an idea of what Celestial Avenue is about.

Kath has been looking for love in all the wrong places. Then, she finds herself in Chinatown. In the middle of a less than successful blind date, she overhears the soulful Cantonese singing of kitchen-hand, Ah Gong. Kath is intrigued. But is there more to Ah Gong than meets the eye?

CELESTIAL AVENUE is an offbeat tale – part karaoke video, part cross-cultural comedy – about love, personal reinvention and startled pigeon.

This weekend the film is playing at Slamdance, so check it out if you're in Park City. Otherwise, look for it at your local film festival and keep your fingers crossed that it will be available for online viewing sometime in the not so distant future. Until then, here's the trailer.

Li Lihua: Hong Kong Cowgirl

Here's some cool Hong Kong Americana from Oldflames and myself (top and bottom respectively). These photos were probably taken sometime in late 1957, when Li Lihua was in the U.S. shooting her first and last Hollywood film, China Doll (1958). The Empress of Hong Kong cinema certainly makes a plucky cowgirl. Too bad her American debut was a World War II film and not a Western!

Lotus Liu: Almost a Star

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the real Chinese players who appeared alongside the yellowface leads of The Good Earth (1937) and promised that I would profile some of these forgotten actors.

First up is Lotus Liu. Her story is a little sad. She was actually chosen to play Lotus, one of the film's featured roles, but in the end lost the part to a white actress. Let's follow her promising, but ill-fated, trajectory to stardom before it finally missed its mark.

LOTUS LIU OF SHANGHAI
GETS SCREEN START
Young Unknown Only Chinese-Born Lead
in "Good Earth"

By BARBARA MILLER
— HOLLYWOOD

Shanghai, which gave the world — and Hollywood — the impudent Lyda Roberti, has produced another potential prodigy.

Her name is Lotus Liu and she will play Lotus, the Soochow sing-song girl and home-wrecker, in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's "The Good Earth". The 19-year-old unknown is the only China-born principal in a cast headed by Paul Muni (Austria) and Luise Rainer (Germany).

Unlike Roberti, product of Shanghai's famous cabaret system, Lotus comes to Hollywood with a French convent, English school background. Her father is Chinese, her mother American.

Seen on a Bus

Oriental in appearance, pleasantly English in accent, Lotus is strictly American in aspirations. Arriving here two years ago as a student, she probably would be fluttering masculine hearts on Southern California campuses if M-G-M's astute Billy Grady hadn't glimpsed her one afternoon on a bus.

Waiting for a bus does have its compensations after all. For since then, everything has been easy for Lotus. Though the studio tested thousands of girls for the part — American and European, as well as Chinese and Eurasian — her youth and vitality won the battle.

It's a break of a lifetime, this part, and Lotus knows it. Talking nineteen to the dozen, the other afternoon on the "Good Earth" set, she looked like one of the better college freshman in her military-minded gray suit and absurd scarlet handkerchief perched on her black curls. But her ambitions are adult. China's famous passiveness is conspicuously absent.

Father Not Told

Lotus is living in Beverly Hills, with her mother and two brothers. But her father, long in the service of the national government of China, is in Nanking. He hasn't been informed of his daughter's good fortune.

"You know how things are in China," she reminded me, wrinkling her pretty nose. After we had reminisced about our last meeting — on a windy Nanking road corner the day the Liu family left Shanghai for California — she continued, "It's so different being in pictures here. And government people are so conservative."

Originally the Nanking government didn't care a great deal for the Buck masterpiece. The poverty of China's peasantry is not the angle the younger, foreign-educated officials strive to present to the world. And the story of Wang Lung and his stolid, homely wife is the story of the soil: of mud huts and famine and marauding war lords sickeningly familiar outside the treaty ports.

Deleted by Experts

The film version, however, has been operated on by experts — for something like three years. Removal or modification of all episodes dealing with opium traffic, famine and banditry so pleased the powers at Nanking that the ill-fated George Hill and his technical experts shot exteriors all over China two years ago.

But the character of the predatory Lotus escaped unscathed, according to the girl who will play the part. Lotus is her real name. And she has a sister called Blossom.

"I'm just a so-and-so," she explained, with a characteristic shrug of her slim shoulders. "I get into Wang Lung's house as his second wife and live there in luxury. I even snatch his poor wife's favorite pearl earrings. But when the lord and master discovers that I'm getting too fond of his good-looking young son he rises up in his wrath and shouts "Go!" And that — I'm afraid — is the end of poor Lotus."

Such an ignominious end is all very well for Lotus, the Soochow charmer, a quaint little figure in her short silk jacket and baggy trousers, lotus flowers in her hair. But for Lotus Liu — with an American mother, a Chinese father and her own ideas of getting on in the world — it's only the beginning.

— San Antonio Express, May 10, 1936

More like the beginning of the end: it was soon reported in The San Antonio Light (June 20, 1936) that Lotus Liu was being replaced by Sidney Fox, best remembered today for her role as the damsel in distress in Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932). But then, just two weeks later (July 1, 1936), the paper followed up with the news that Lotus was back again for the role.

After signing Lotus Liu (an Eurasian beauty) for the role of Lotus in the picture, the powers-that-be suddenly had a brain storm and decided that Sidney Fox would make a better Lotus than a real Chinese girl so Miss Liu was out and Miss Fox was in. At least, temporarily. After two weeks of testing, Miss Fox was found unsatisfactory for the role and now Miss Liu is right back again and this time — she'll stay."

Well, no — not this time. Lotus was replaced once again by a white actress. This time it was Austrian dancer Tilly Losch, who ended up shooting the role. And here's the real kicker: according to one source I've found (Award-Winning Films of the 1930s by John Reid), Lotus Liu dubbed the lines for thick-accented Tilly Losch. Talk about sucks!

Alas, the "break of a lifetime" for this "potential prodigy" just disappeared into thin air. Nevertheless, even though Lotus Liu lost her chance to star in The Good Earth, she does appear briefly in the film. She's not listed in the cast credits on IMDB or the TCM movie database, but thanks to the Chinese Digest article (which I transcribed in my previous post), I was clued in to her 10 seconds of fame.

Here she is folks, making the absolute most of her meager screen time — the charming Miss Lotus Liu!

Remembering Fang Ying (1950-2010)

Sixties actress Fang Ying passed away on Wednesday. While I've never followed her the way I have her fellow Shaw stars, I've always thought there was something special about her. I'm not sure how to describe it: she had the spunky innocence of Li Ching and the cool sophistication of Lily Ho — but in a way that was so understated and natural it was completely disarming.

While Fang Ying rose to fame in Shaw's huangmei opera films, I will always associate her with veteran director Yueh Feng's superb social melodrama Auntie Lan (1967), in which she plays a young woman who struggles with being a single mother after her fiance dies in a plane crash. She also starred in a movie that is tops on my list of still unavailable Shaw films that I'm dying to see: the tantalizing Trapeze Girl (1967).


Fang Ying in Trapeze Girl

One of Shaw's "Seven Fairies", the first crop of starlets from its actor training school, Fang Ying was — along with Allyson Chang Yen — the first to disappear from the silver screen. She married in 1968 and made a few more films before retiring in 1970.

In the mid-80s, however, Fang Ying returned to the movie business, this time as an art director and costume designer. She was nominated for Best Art Direction at the 10th Annual Hong Kong Film Awards for Kawashima Yoshiko (1990) but gets a special award from me for her work on two of my favorite films: Deception (1989), a stylish thriller about workplace blackmail spun out of control; and Naked Killer (1992), a lurid girls-with-guns film inspired by Shaw's erotic wuxia classic Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan (1972).


Pauline Wong, Brigitte Lin, and Elizabeth Lee in Deception


Carrie Ng, Simon Yam, and Chingmy Yau in Naked Killer

Let me end with this brief tribute with a wonderful clip from Auntie Lan showing off Fang Ying's unaffected charm.

Cathay Hey-Hey!

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.

Joy Ching: Girl in the Gilded Cage

"Miss Joy Ching imparts an Oriental touch to an old American art form as The Girl in the Gilded Cage — a San Francisco Chinatown striptease."

The above photo and caption, from an article that appeared in Collier's (February 28, 1942), luridly answers the question asked a few days ago about what exactly tourists hoped to see inside San Francisco's famous Forbidden City nightclub.

Joy Ching appears to have been a replacement for Noel Toy, the "Chinese Sally Rand" who made Forbidden City a solvent business with her popular bubble dance.

Owner Charlie Low didn't have to be a genius to figure out what made folks flock to his club. When Noel Toy left Forbidden City for more lucrative pastures, Charlie knew he had to find another exotic dancer to keep the cash flowing.

Charlie Low Dreams Up "The Girl in the Gilded (Neon) Cage"

The nation's no. 1 Chinese night club, whose excitements have been extolled by Life, Pic, and other national mags, is doing one of those crazy, wonderful things again.

From the fertile brain of Boss and MC Charlie Low comes the new storm that will sweep over Forbidden City any day now: a tempting Chinese thrush in a bird-cage of golden neon.

Watch for the nude Miss Blossom Lee, "The Girl in the Gilded Cage".

In fact, if you don't keep your eye on Forbidden City all the time, you'll be missing night-club history in the making. Charlie Low has conceived more novel, sprightly, exciting entertainment ideas than any two other showmen in town...

—The Coast, May 1941

Blossom Lee, soon to be known as Joy Ching, was partnered with Jack Mei Ling, one of Forbidden City's first, and longest staying, dancers. At various times, Jack performed as a duo with Jadin Wong and Jade Ling and also as a trio with Mary Mammon and Dorothy Sun. Not only did he choreograph the dances, but he also designed the costumes. As Anthony Lee writes in his fascinating book Picturing Chinatown, Jack developed a unique Orientalist camp style that allowed him to come out of the closet as a gay man on stage in his performances.

Customers Love (!) Charlie Low's (!) Caged Honey (!)

Her name was Betty Lee. Then it became Blossom Lee. Now it's Joy Ching. Under any name she's The Girl in the Gilded Cage. Under any name, too, she's un-Orientally lush with a wallop in nearly all of her dextrous extremities. And this, you may be sure, brings a twinkle to the eyes of customers... and a double twinkle into the eyes of smart Charlie Low, who's the Boss... and the guy who cooked up the Gilded Cage idea in the first place.

That's Joy in the picture above, after emerging from the Cage... in the act of being pursued by another bird, Jack Mei Ling.

—The Coast, June 1941

An act like "The Girl in the Gilded Cage" is one example of how performers at Forbidden City used burlesque to confuse and overturn the definitions of "Chinese" and "American" in U.S. popular culture at the time. Besides its obvious visual reference to the crib prostitutes of old Chinatown, the act also references American vaudeville — the song "A Bird in a Gilded Cage" was an enormous hit in 1900. Add the humorous touch of the neon cage and Jack Mei Ling's camp aesthetic, and you've got a unique twist on the yellowface tradition.

The performers of Forbidden City and San Francisco's other "all-Chinese" nightclubs were more than a novelty. They may not have overturned the unequal representation of Asian Americans on the stage and screen, but they nevertheless found a way to express their talent and ambition.

Forbidden City: Behind the Curtain

"Chinese chorines make up for the floor show at the Forbidden City. This Oriental night club is less sinful than many tourists expect."

I love surprises. After seeing this photograph reproduced in Trina Robbins' new book, Forbidden City: The Golden Age of Chinese Nightclubs, I tracked down a copy of the magazine it came from (Holiday, July 1948) and found that the original photo was not black and white — as I expected — but full and living color!

Happy Birthday Anna May!

Here's a belated toast to Anna May Wong (born January 3, 1905), one of this blog's behind-the-scenes muses. I was flipping through Anna May Wong: From Laundryman's Daughter to Hollywood Legend by Graham Russell Gao Hodges yesterday but somehow overlooked that it was her birthday.

This photo, taken by Paul Tanqueray, comes from the March 1930 issue of Theatre World and proves that, eighty years later, Anna May is still the coolest thing around.

Special thanks to Anna May Wong Daily for the birthday reminder!

*Photo courtesy of the eBay Archive

The Good Earth: Keeping It Real

Left to right: Roland Lui, Caroline Chew, Chingwah Lee, Mary Wong, James Z.M. Lee, Soo Yong, William Law, Lotus Liu, and Frank Tang

For the longest time I avoided watching The Good Earth (1937). For me it was always just that film for which Anna May Wong was passed over as leading lady in favor of a white actress. Because of its reputation today as a yellowface extravaganza, it's easy to overlook the importance of The Good Earth as a positive change in the way that Chinese were portrayed on the Hollywood screen.

Of course, it would have been an even more significant change if the roles had been played by Chinese actors. Pearl Buck evidently tried to convince MGM to do just this. At one point, there was talk about Shanghai movie queen Hu Die starring in the lead role of O-Lan and even about making the film with Chinese dialogue and English subtitles. Now, that would have been groundbreaking! But since this is Hollywood, the story ends disappointingly with Austrian actress Luise Rainer winning an Academy Award for her frankly mediocre portrayal of O-Lan.

Last year I finally decided to give The Good Earth a try after discovering the following article in the March 1937 issue of Chinese Digest. It alerted me to some of the real Chinese folks who starred in and worked on the film. Sadly, most of them were used — per the recommendation of casting director Albert Lewin — as "atmosphere" rather than as principal actors.

It's a shame, really. In my opinion, Chingwah Lee could have given a much more natural performance as Wang the farmer than Paul Muni. William Law, who appears briefly as a gate keeper, could have performed the role of Wang's uncle just as well as character actor Walter Connolly. Soo Yong could have easily replaced Jessie Ralph. Poor Lotus Liu was actually chosen for the role of Lotus (Wang's second wife), but it eventually fell into the hands of Austrian dancer Tilly Losch.

Anyway, it's no use playing "what if". Let us instead salute the real Chinese of The Good Earth, some of whom I'll be profiling in the coming weeks.

WHO'S WHO AMONG THE CHINESE
IN "THE GOOD EARTH"


Soo Yong is an A.B. from the University of Hawaii and an M.A. from Columbia University. Her major is botany, and she has taught in high schools. She made her bow to America when she served as curtain raiser for Mei Lan Fang, and America is still loud in praise of her fine English diction — "better than the best among the English and American". She made history again when she appeared as a Manchu princess in the picture "Painted Veil". After that performance MGM chained her by a "Good Earth" contract to play both the ancient mistress and the sloppy sharp-tongued aunt.


Mary Wong is the prettiest Chinese girl appearing in "The Good Earth". In San Francisco she is a buyer and expert sales manager at the China Emporium, of which she has a partnership. In "The Good Earth" she radiated so much charm as the Little Bride that no cutting of even an inch from her acting was possible without removing something of the uniqueness from the picture. However, they had to make her speechless for the simple reason that Chinese brides are supposed to be seen but not heard. "That's the most difficult thing for me to do — remaining silent", said Mary afterward.


Keye Luke is known to the world through his Charlie Chan series of thrillers, in which he plays the Chinese detective's son. But a new personality emerged in the Elder Son of "The Good Earth". The part being more in keeping his personality he did a very fine portrayal. Keye was an artist from Seattle before he took up acting. His painting has that subtle touch which characterizes a Sung. An intellectual of the first order, his vocabulary would put the average American to shame. An introvert, he likes a good smoke, a quiet conversation among friends, and a laugh at the antics of Sinclair Lewis's children.


Roland Lui is typical of the second generation Chinese — a good athlete, a high school graduate, the personification of health and pep. Plays football and basketball with relish. He received a year's training at the Motion Picture Academy (with pay) before participating in "The Good Earth".


William Law is a representative to the Chinese Six Companies; a Chinese division manager of the Pacific Coast Paper Company, and a career man at the Columbia Importing Company. A good singer, he was on the Orpheum Circuit in the good old days before the depression. He enjoys a good cigar and a good joke — and excels in these two fine arts.


Caroline Chew is a graduate of Mills College, a daughter of the late famous Chung Sa Yat Po publisher, Ng Poon Chew. She studied dancing under both European and Oriental masters and has given many concerts here and in the East. She plays the part of a dancer in "The Good Earth" tea house scene.


Lotus Liu is from Shanghai and was attending USC when signed by MGM to appear in "The Good Earth", moon mandolin and all. Originally, she was to play the part of "Lotus", but the studio executives considered her too sweet for so worldly a role.


Chingwah Lee is a zoologist, ethnologist, ceramic art authority, and one-time social worker. He is a University of California graduate — the alma mater of more California second-generation Chinese than can be counted by this time. He is director and manager of Chinatown Trade and Travel Bureau, active head of the oldest Chinese boy scout troop in the United States, a publisher and associate editor of the Chinese Digest.

A San Franciscan all his life, he is a fount of information on old Chinatown days. He possesses the best private collection of ceramic wares in Chinatown.

He bears a close resemblance to two of China's outstanding men — Dr. Wu Lien-teh and Dr. Hu Shih.

James Z.M. Lee was attending USC as a Shakespearean scholar when signed by MGM to be the technical advisor for "The Good Earth" company. For three long years he assisted with the production, joining the expedition to China for background shots and props. He is considered the most reliable expert on things Chinese in movieland today.

Frank Tang is a member of the art department. A graduate of Mission High of San Francisco and of the Sun Chung Academy, his calligraphy is second to none in southern California. The Chinese banners and other native writings in "The Good Earth" scenes are products of his fine brush.