Had Enough Lanterns? Here’s a Parasol for a Change…and Zelda Fitzgerald Thinking About Running Away to China

Not sure there are enough parasols, even if there are too many lanterns these days, on book covers….R. Clifton Spargo’s Beautiful Fools: the Last Affair of Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald has a lovely Chinoiserie parasol on the cover. Of course Chinese parasols were a great delight of the Jazz Age, but Zelda did have an interest in China it seems. Though overshadowed by her husband, Zelda was also a writer and one of her short stories The Girl With Talent (or sometimes The Girl Who Had Some Talent) did feature a flapper dancer in 1920s New York who is offered a career chance of a lifetime but opts instead to elope with her lover to China. The story is a tad tricky to find these days – it appeared in the rather obscure (now at least) College Humor in April 1930. I believe it is in some of the out-of-print collections of Zelda’s shorter fiction.

1929/1930 were of course difficult years for Zelda – in 1930 she was admitted to a sanatorium in Maryland diagnosed bipolar and her marriage was failing. Running away to China must have seemed like a good idea at the time one can imagine.

Chinese Lanterns Redux in Post-War America

I’ve posted rather a lot on Chinese lanterns and their role as a symbol of the Jazz Age and Chinoiserie in Western literature (here, here, here and here). Nice to see then that contemporary authors seeking to recreate the rather louche environs of history (in this case just post-war privileged America) use Chinese lanterns in their work to evoke the era and mood.

This from the recent best seller, Liza Klaussman’s Tigers in Red Weather (details below)…..

‘As the party drew near, Nick seemed to get lost in the minutiae of Chinese lanterns and silver polish…’

“Nick and her cousin Helena have grown up together, sharing long hot summers at Tiger House. With husbands and children of their own, they keep returning. But against a background of parties, cocktails, moonlight and jazz, how long can perfection last? There is always the summer that changes everything”

Remarkable Chester Ronning: Proud Son of China

I know nothing about the Remarkable Chester Ronning so this new book by Brian Evans may shed some light…..

Scholar and diplomat Brian L Evans gives us the first English-language biography of Chester A Ronning (1894-1984): diplomat, politician, educator, and one of Canadas major public figures. This fascinating story depicts Ronning, the man who received many honours, and deepens readers’ knowledge of Canadas post-World War II diplomacy and Canada — China relations. Ronning was a extraordinary Canadian who combined Chinese sensibility with Norwegian calm practicality and American drive. His life journey was entwined with the history of China over many decades. Based on written materials, historical documents, and many hours of interviews with Ronning, his friends, and fellow politicians, The Remarkable Chester Ronning offers both a thorough and entertaining biography and a lens through which to view international politics.

Irving Berlin’s From Here to Shanghai & Ching Ling Foo

Among the numerous Chinese magicians (both real Chinese and fake with yellow greasepaint, black wigs and meaningless imitation pidgin English) to impress European and American audiences over the centuries, none was more popular than Ching Ling Foo (1854-1922), real name Chee Ling Qua, who had been born in Peking and was a respected performer in China before bringing his show to America in 1898. Dressed in typical late Qing-era garb he breathed smoke and fire over audiences, producing ribbons and a fifteen foot long pole from his mouth to their amazement and beheaded a boy who then, to the amazement of the audience, walked off the stage sans head. His show stopper involved producing a huge bowl, full to the brim with water, from out of an empty cloth. He would then pull a small child from the bowl. Other magicians were in awe of Ching Ling Foo. He travelled the States with his bound footed wife and a retinue of Chinese women who were as much an attraction as his magic. His fame was such that he got a mention in Irving Berlin s 1917 song From Here to Shanghai. He had a host of imitators, not least Chung Ling Soo, who I’ve blogged about repeatedly here and  here.

And so here’s Irving Berlin’s lyrics immortalising Ching Ling Foo….

The sheet music cover

And the “78” itself

“From Here To Shanghai”

I’ve often wandered down
To dreamy Chinatown
The home of Ching-a-ling
It’s fine! I must declare
But now I’m going where
I can see the real, real thing

I’ll soon be there
In a bamboo chair
For I’ve got my fare
From here to Shanghai

Just picture me
Sipping Oo-long tea
Served by a Chinaman
Who speaks a-way up high
(“Hock-a-my, Hock-a-my”)

I’ll eat the way they do
With a pair of wooden sticks
And I’ll have Ching Ling Foo
Doing all his magic tricks

I’ll get my mail
From a pale pig-tail
For I mean to sail
From here to Shanghai

I’ll have them teaching me
To speak their language, gee!
When I can talk Chinese
I’ll come home on the run
Then have a barr’ll of fun
Calling people what I please

(you can hear it here on a rather charming youtube clip)

Ching Ling Foo himself

Uma Thurman Does Spring Festival in High Chinoiserie Style for Campari’s 2014 Calendar

Campari’s 2014 calendar features Uma Thurman in a variety of settings and national holidays with the obligatory glass of Campari in each. I thought China Rhymers might like to see Uma doing Spring Festival in Beijing in high Chinoiserie style….And my point is?….Well, there isn’t one really but this is the only blog that will focus on the symbolism of the Chinese lanterns in the photo I can assure you!!

Intoxicating Manchuria: Alcohol, Opium, and Culture in China’s Northeast

Norman Smith’s Intoxicating Manchuria looks interesting….

In China, both opium and alcohol were used for centuries in the pursuit of health and leisure while simultaneously linked to personal and social decline. The impact of these substances is undeniable, and the role they have played in Chinese social, cultural, and economic history is extremely complex.

In Intoxicating Manchuria, Norman Smith reveals how huge intoxicant industries were altered by warlord rule, Japanese occupation, and war. Powering the spread of alcohol and opium — initially heralded as markers of class or modernity and whose use was well documented — these industries flourished throughout the early twentieth century even as a vigorous anti-intoxicant movement raged.

This book provides a detailed analysis of the media’s positive and negative portrayals of alcohol in the 1930s and 40s, which includes the advertising industry’s promotion of alcohol and its subsequent calls for prohibition. While tracing the history of opium and alcohol consumption in China and the business of intoxicant production in Manchuria, Smith highlights the efforts of anti-intoxicant activists, scientists, bureaucrats, and writers to raise awareness of the dangers of intoxicants. This is the first English-language book-length study to focus on alcohol use in modern China and the first dealing with intoxicant restriction in the region.

Norman Smith is an associate professor in the History Department of the University of Guelph. He is the author of Resisting Manchukuo: Chinese Women Writers and the Japanese Occupation and co-editor of Beyond Suffering: Recounting War in Modern China.

London – 14/11/13 – Screening of documentary Madame Chiang Kai-shek: A Legend across three centuries with Q&A with Producer Lin Leh-chyun

A chance to this Taiwanese documentary in London and hear the director….

Screening of documentary Madame Chiang Kai-shek: A Legend across three centuries with Q&A with Producer Lin Leh-chyun

SOAS Centre of Taiwan Studies

14 November, Thursday 7.00-9.30pm, Khalili Lecture Theatre, College Building, 7pm

RSVP – email: df2@soas.ac.uk

“No woman in the west holds so great a position as Mme. Chiang Kai-shek holds in China.“

The first instalment of the Taiwan Film Screening Programme is the acclaimed Public Television Service documentary on the legendary Madame Chiang. The two-part documentary, with recently revealed declassified archives on her fascinating life, embraces stories that cover Taiwan, China, Hong Kong as well as the United States.

Soong May-ling’s life is closely entwined with modern history. But even in her later years, she refused to write her memoirs. This documentary is the only window on her life that crosses three centuries, disclosing in-depth coverage of how this legendary woman has affected the destiny of China and the world.

Part I: East and West   

Synopsis 

The first part begins with the early years of Soong May-ling and her family who had risen to prominence at the start of the 20th century. At the age of ten, she went to study in the United States, where she became deeply imbued with Western (American) culture.

After marrying Chiang Kai-shek, the couple led a China embroiled in years of war and political intrigue. In 1936, Chiang was kidnapped by one of his own generals. In what came to be known as the Xi’an Incident, Soong May-ling placed herself in personal danger to save her own husband, and for a moment brought China back from the brink of civil war.

It was during the Second World War, that the personality of Soong May-ling truly began to emerge in the West. She had travelled to the US to lobby support for the war effort. Speaking (with her famous southern American accent), before the U.S. Congress, she roused the passion of the whole United States.

Part 2: The Exile Years

The second part of the documentary follows Soong May-ling to Taiwan with the Chinese Nationalist Government. In public she stood out as the distant and mysterious “Madame Chiang”. In Taiwan she not only continued her role in foreign affairs, but also devoted her time to work with women and charitable causes. However in private, the documentary examines her often fractious relations with her stepson Chiang Ching-kuo, and her efforts to safeguard the legacy of the Republic of China. At the death of President Chiang Ching-kuo in 1988, Taiwan entered a new political era, under a new president, Lee Teng-hui. At the same time Soong May-ling finally decided to retire from the political stage.

Leh-Chyun Lin is the Director of the International Department and Chief of Documentary Platform of the Public Television Service in Taiwan. After receiving his master’s degree from the University of Missouri-Columbia, School of Journalism, he began working as a print journalist in New York and Hong Kong. Over the past 20 years, he has worked as a producer, programme director, production director, news director, and contents director for commercial and public television, as well as in the Internet industry in Taiwan.

He has produced biographical documentaries on Madam Chiang Kai-shek (宋美齡), Sun Li-jen (孫立人) (one of the most celebrated Kuomintang generals of the Second World War), and Lee Teng-hui (李登輝). His production honours, amongst others, include George Foster Peabody Awards, CINE Golden Eagle Award, and Asian Television Awards.

Leh-Chyun Lin is also an Adjunct Professional Expert of the Graduate Institute of Journalism, National Taiwan University.

Censoring the Foreign Press in China in the 1920s

The news from China is not good – Bloomberg has bottled it and says it’s not going to do investigative journalism any more in China (those terminals are just too valuable to win out against real journalism) while a veteran hack, Paul Mooney, has been refused a visa. For more on this read the Economist blog here. Much discussion and hand wringing has (rightly) ensued among the foreign press corps in Beijing. China Rhyming of course prefers to take the historical view and look back to the 1920s and how the Chinese government (KMT then and back in the days when it was the Communists, among others, being censored) tried to limit the investigative attempts of the foreign hack pack….

(the below is from my book Through the Looking Glass: China’s Foreign Journalists From Opium Wars to Mao (now available for a very reasonable price on Amazon as a Kindle)

Bans — Fun with the Censors

The government took exception to a wide range of foreign correspondents in the 1920s. The North-China Daily News in Shanghai was often openly hostile to the government. It was a supporter of extraterritoriality and constantly worried about the loss of Great Power privileges and rights if Chiang should decide to continue his Northern Expedition into the treaty ports, which seemed a distinct possibility to many; and the paper was also often perceived to be sympathetic to Tokyo, in line with British Foreign Office thinking at the time. In 1929 the paper was subjected to a postal ban by the government, largely as a result of articles by Rodney Gilbert and George Sokolsky. Following this, in 1930, the paper’s editorial line changed noticeably when the staunchly pro-British O. M. Green was rather controversially replaced as editor by Edwin Haward, the well-regarded India Hand who had worked on the Civil and Military Gazette in Lahore (Kipling’s old employer). The paper became more pro-government and also more objective in its reporting of issues involving tricky topics such as extraterritoriality. The Old Lady of the Bund’s change of heart was due to Haward’s new editorial decisions as well as a broader change in the sensibilities of the foreign population in China who increasingly decided to live with theNationalist government rather than oppose it. Haward may have been more a man of India than China but he knew his stuff and had also been a long and close friend of  J. O. P. Bland. Though the North-China was hardest hit, both the French-owned Journal de Pekin and Woodhead’s Peking and Tientsin Times suffered various penalties, from being denied the use of the mail system to all copies circulated outside the foreign concessions being seized and burned byNationalist officials.

However, few journalists were as directly targeted by the Nationalists as Hallett Abend (below). He had made multiple enemies in the Chiang clan through various actions, including the perhaps unwise decision to punch Chiang’s son on the nose and accuse the Generalissimo of suffering from unbridled ambition. The government tried to discredit him with Adolph Ochs, the publisher of the New York Times, and attempted to deport him several times. They were unsuccessful, but the Chinese telegraph offices were ordered not to handle his despatches and he had to resort to the rather roundabout method of sending them to the Times’s Tokyo bureau for forwarding to New York. Despite the government’s intense dislike of Abend, extraterritoriality meant they couldn’t expel him and, as he was the representative of a highly influential paper, he was still invited to the regular tea and sandwiches briefings for foreign reporters held by Chiang and Madame Chiang in Nanjing. However, he could never be sure if the two shots fired at him while in a rickshaw in Beijing, or, several years later in 1934, an attempted stabbing at Shanghai’s North Railway Station, were random attacks or botched assassination attempts.

Other correspondents also found themselves the subject of intense lobbying of their bosses by the Nationalists, if not assassination attempts. For example, Charles Dailey, the Chicago Tribune’s Beijing correspondent was contacted by his bemused editor who had been deluged with sacks of mail denouncing Dailey in what appeared to be an orchestrated campaign similar to that organised against Abend.