Each morning, Gig and I would meet with Hope in his suite to discuss ideas for the show. Gradually, we noticed that Culture was saying “no” faster than the Parole Board on Devil’s Island. It was almost as if they knew what we wanted before we submitted a formal request. As it turned out, they did.
One day, as we arrived for our usual strategy session, Hope motioned for us to join him outside on the balcony. As he slid the door closed behind us, he pointed toward the drain at one end of the deck and invited us to join him at the other.
He whispered that he had been warned by someone at the American Embassy that his suite might be bugged, confirming our own suspicions that the rooms were in need of a visit from the Orkin man. Needless to say, from then on, we tried to make sure that the only microphone Hope spoke into belonged to NBC.
We had a feeling that the Red Flag limousine assigned to Hope by
the government also sported some after-market wiring. Moving from location to location on shooting days, Don Marando would have to juggle Hope’s heavy aluminum makeup case on his lap because, according to the driver, the trunk, prickly with antennae, was off-limits to visitors.
Even though we were with NBC and not the CIA, it didn’t seem to matter. Cold War suspicions run deep.
As a further condition of being allowed to tape in China, Hope had agreed to deliver a “hands-across-the-oceans” speech extolling the newfound friendship between the two nations.
Wielding a golf club and standing near the entrance to the Forbidden City with the portrait of Chairman Mao visible over his shoulder, he said:
“Peking China — amazing, isn’t it? Ten years ago, who would have dreamt that an American comedian would be standing here in Tiananmen Square saying whatever he pleased and photographing anything he pleased.
In those days, the People’s Republic was the Red Menace, a stern and implacable enemy who ridiculed our way of life and pictured us as wallowing in decadence.
But in this fast-moving world, radical changes can occur overnight. So here I am, and in the words of Oscar Hammerstein ‘getting to know you — getting to know all about you, getting to like you, hoping that you like me.’
I guess that’s what this trip is all about. Getting to know each other — talking and laughing and singing and dancing together, like good friends should. And liking each other.
The Chinese are easy to like, ready to smile, courteous and helpful. And they make every effort to understand us — and with a troupe of actors, that’s not easy...(points) Behind that gate is the Forbidden City, which is not forbidden to anyone anymore...”
As soon as Hope learned that he’d be allowed to visit China, he made an arrangement with King Features Syndicate to send back weekly reports of his impressions of the mysterious Orient.
As each deadline approached, Hope would say something like “Isn’t it time I had a few more impressions?” and while he took his afternoon nap, we’d tap out the columns which were later condensed in the October 1979 issue of The Saturday Evening Post.
Here’s a sampling of Hope’s impression of the Great Wall:
“Separating sky from jutting mountain crests as far as the eye can see, it snakes its way across Northern China like a giant ribbon on a Christmas package — a present that
was gift-wrapped twenty-five centuries ago.
They say that high walls make good neighbors, but as you experience the
breath-taking grandeur of this one — stone laid upon stone, millions and millions of them — it’s hard to believe that it all began centuries ago when an unemployed brick mason whispered into the emperor’s ear, ‘But what if they show up from the north at night wearing sneakers?’”
To be continued…
[Adapted from THE LAUGH MAKERS: A Behind-the-Scenes Tribute to Bob Hope's Incredible Gag Writers by Robert L. Mills with a Foreword by Gary Owens. Published by Bear Manor Media. Copyright (c) 2009.]
