“If you’re a stenographer, and your work is good, you don’t have to prove yourself every day,” Helen chided us. “But as performers, your bodies have to be maintained at all times. If a secretary gains ten pounds, so what? If she gets wrinkles, who cares? But for an entertainer, these things can mark the end. Lotions, potions, and creams won’t return youth.”
Thank you, Helen, for reminding us.
HELEN: V for Victory
Often, when I waited in the dressing room for Ruby to come offstage, I daydreamed about my beloved Lai Kai. If he were still alive, we would have had many children by now and lived in our own compound, always together under the full moon, always bathing in a river of love. But if he were alive, I never would have met Grace or Ruby. I never would have danced in clubs. I never would have gone to Hollywood with Eddie. I never would have seen so many American cities. I would have traded all those experiences to be still married to Lai Kai. I didn’t deserve to be either happy or alive, but a silkworm will only stop providing silk when it dies and a candle will only stop crying when it turns to ash. I could live as a chaste widow, who happened to be married to another man, as long as I had Tommy. If Chinese people could have seen us together, they would have offered the supreme compliment for motherhood-that I loved my son like a cow licking her calf-but we never encountered proper Chinese. Just Chinese hillbillies!
The Oriental Fantasy Revue played Corpus Christi, Houston, and Memphis. We did shows at the Baker Hotel in Dallas and the Washington-Youree Hotel in Shreveport. All the while, the war raged on. We did our best to help, even on the road. When the Navy issued an urgent plea for type O blood, I arranged for the entire troupe to go to the local Red Cross in Birmingham to donate. When we were in Montgomery, I spotted a booth selling war bonds and volunteered the troupe to sing and dance on the sidewalk to attract buyers.
In March, we traveled with the Ink Spots. When our bus stopped for gasoline, I’d go to the coffee shop and pick up sodas and sandwiches for Hoppy, Deek, and the other Spots, because they couldn’t get served. A lot of states had curfews for Negroes, and the guys couldn’t cross a certain line after midnight. Can you imagine the irony of headlining in a town and not being able to get a meal or take a stroll after dinner? But once we played a black venue, and Ruby and Grace were assigned the smallest dressing room on the third floor, where all the heat collected. It was only fair. But I told Grace she’d have to help Ruby with her makeup that night so I could take Tommy outside for some fresh air.
What a mistake! After everything I’d done for Ruby, she started speaking to Grace. Jealousy skulked from its hiding place, but how could I be jealous, truly? Except that Ruby was more of an equal to Grace, while I was like a road manager… or a maid.
“Maybe we should put together an act for the three of us,” I suggested one night in the dining car as our train chugged from Jacksonville to Savannah.
“I don’t think so, Helen,” Ruby said. “We already have our own acts.”
A bramble finch can never understand the lofty ambitions of snow geese.
ON APRIL 13, WE woke in Charleston to the sound of church bells. We hoped the war might be over. Instead, we heard President Roosevelt had died. We could hardly believe it. He’d only just been elected for a fourth term. He had brought us out of the Depression and now was our leader in wartime. The realization that we would no longer have him to guide us was crushingly sad. Our show was canceled that night. The next day we moved on, doing one-nighters as the Oriental Fantasy Revue’s tour began to wind down, but our audiences were slight and the mood somber. It felt like the entire country was in mourning.
On April 30, we arrived in Norfolk for a five-night run at a club called Pieces O’Eight. Soon we’d need to decide what to do next: keep the revue together, find others to travel with, or go our separate ways. I spoke directly to Sam Bernstein now, and he warned me that Norfolk was a rowdy port town-or, as he put it more directly, “the worst war town”-with a volatile mixture of military bases, plenty of liquor, and an abundance of vice, but it didn’t seem so bad in the light of day as we were driven from the train station to our accommodations.
I checked us in to the hotel, where I had to accept a two-bedroom suite with a shared bathroom. Once we unpacked, we put on clean clothes-Grace in her skirt with the Morse code pattern that spelled V for victory, Ruby in a blood-red dress that looked stunning against her hair, and me in a simple skirt and blouse-and then went downstairs for a late lunch. The Maks were already there, and they waved us over to join them. After we ordered, Jack announced, “Irene and I have been discussing things. We’re going back to San Francisco after this gig.”
“What about the revue?” I asked, the practical one, running the show with no thanks from anyone.
“You’ll find someone else to fill in for the rest of the tour,” Jack said. “What about the Lim Sisters-”
“They don’t do magic,” I protested. “Please don’t leave us!”
“Helen, look at me. I’m as big as a house,” Irene pointed out.
I couldn’t deny it. At our last one-nighter, I’d tried to zip Irene into her costume and the whole thing had split apart. I’d rigged together a replacement out of a kimono and a Spanish shawl, which made her resemble a gigantic fringed lampshade.
“I can’t go onstage like this,” she went on, rubbing her belly. “Besides, our elder boy will be starting kindergarten next year.”
“I’ve agreed to be the house magician at the Forbidden City,” Jack informed us.
“And I’m going to stay home,” Irene added. Listening to her, I couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad about it. “It will be a circus at home, I guess.”
“I’ll go on alone tonight,” Jack said. “If you’d like, you can leave Tommy with Irene and the kids here at the hotel.”
My heart raced like hummingbird wings. “I’ve never left him alone.”
“He won’t be alone,” Irene said. “He’ll be with us.”
“All right. Just this once.” I forced a smile, but I noticed Grace and Ruby regarding me as if I were pathetic. They weren’t mothers. They couldn’t possibly understand.
Ruby, Grace, and I left the hotel a little before six and walked through streets already teeming with sailors. Catcalls. Whistles. “Hey, baby, want to join me tonight?” It was nothing new. We entered Pieces O’Eight, which was down by the docks. A busboy pointed the way to the dressing room. I went through the door first so I could open Ruby’s trunk and get straight to work setting things up for her. I’d barely crossed the threshold when I came to an abrupt stop. A Western Union telegram, taped to the mirror. My heart dropped. Eddie. Monroe. But I wasn’t the only one who had someone to lose. In the mirror’s reflection-around that tiny yellow rectangle-stood three women whose faces had drained of blood. We approached the mirror together. The telegram was addressed to Ruby. Relief cascaded through me. I wouldn’t be a double widow, and my brother was still breathing.
Ruby peeled the envelope off the glass and held it in her hands for a few agonizing moments before ripping it open. In cold official language she was informed that Yori had been killed. Grace put a hand on Ruby’s arm.
“I… I… I need to get ready,” she stuttered. “Helen, where are your sponges? Hurry along now.”
I could only repeat again and again how sorry I was and respect her wishes. We got ready in silence. Ruby kept her emotions hidden under an icy-white enameled shell. I thought about Eddie and my brother. I’m sure Grace was thinking about Joe.