In 1979, Getting Out of China Was Almost as Difficult as Getting In
(Ed note: The author was a script writer for Bob Hope from 1977 to 1992.)
In 1974, soon after Richard Nixon opened relations with the People's Republic of China, Bob Hope began a behind-the-scenes campaign to become the first American entertainer to tape a television special there. He spent the next five years cajoling the State Department and the Department of Defense — at the start of every new season, I'd say, "We doing
China this year?" and he'd say, "Any day now. Stay packed."
Leaning on a raft of influential government pals including Henry Kissinger and calling in markers he'd been collecting from the government since World War II, he finally received permission to take our show there as part of a cultural exchange program dubbed "Ping-Pong Diplomacy" by the press.
On June 16, 1979, after a four-hour flight from Narita, Japan, a Chinese Airlines 707 filled with our merry band of mirth makers eager to get their first look at this hotbed of Communism, touched down at the Peking (now Beijing) Airport.
Many times during the almost two decades that I traveled the world with Bob Hope, I realized that I was enjoying a wonderful and unique experience that most people never get the opportunity to sample. And the word "wonderful" hardly does the experience justice. Traveling with an internationally recognized entertainment icon like Bob Hope has to rank among the most exhilarating experiences known to man. You're chased after, fawned over, catered to and must keep reminding yourself that it's not you who's causing all the commotion.
Just by being physically near a well-known star who's liked and admired by the public (in Hope's case, almost beloved), those around him or her experience a fair amount of those same warm feelings the celebrity receives. One can, indeed, bask in their limelight and, as long as the celebrity who is causing the adulation remains in the immediate vicinity, you feel as safe and protected as the pilot fish you see on those nature shows swimming beside a shark.
In China, I spent the better part of our month-long visit never far from Hope. But when it came time to return home, he had departed Peking a day early to complete a public appearance tour of the Far East. Suddenly, I was alone and on my own. I was now a pilot fish without its shark!
On getaway day, I reported to the airport and presented my passport and Chinese travel papers to the authorities — a group of guys in brown khaki uniforms with little Red Army stars on their caps. I was informed that my documents were virtually riddled with irregularities that likely would preclude my departure that day.
Stunned, I looked at our young, college student Chinese interpreter — by now we had become pretty close pals — who explained that, in the confusion of our arrival with Hope's entourage a month before, someone had neglected some extremely important stamping and initialing. As more — and successively higher ranking — army guys arrived behind the counter to help determine my fate, I sensed the interpreter was pleading with them to release me.
The engines on the Chinese Airlines 707 were revving up just outside the lobby door. I could see that the folding stairs up front were still down, but the rear boarding ramp had been rolled away. Inside, secure in their seats, were the show's producer James Lipton, our stars Mickhail Baryshnikov, Crystal Gayle, Sesame Street's Big Bird (Caroll Spinney) and the other members of our production crew. They were about to take off and my seat was empty!
As my panic was growing more obvious (sweat was spurting out of me like the Trevi Fountain), my interpreter leaned over and whispered, "When I nod, walk directly to the plane, board, and whatever you do, don't look back." My parting gift to him of several reams of high quality erasable bond from the show's supply locker had paid off. (Tips are frowned on in China, but gifts are welcome, and back then paper was as scarce as cheap gasoline is today.)
Now the bureaucratic summit meeting behind the counter was reaching fever pitch. As the soldiers motioned for their superiors, obviously seeking higher authorization to formally detain me, my trusted student ally nodded toward the door. I shook his hand, spun around and walked toward the plane with that same determined stride that had worked so well for Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca."
As instructed, I didn't dare look back as several young sound guys pulled me aboard the taxiing plane, yanked the stairs in after me and latched the door. I learned later that Jim Lipton, a pilot himself, had asked the Chinese pilot to delay the takeoff until I was aboard. I am forever in his debt for a rescue from a bureaucratic nightmare — and to the "Bob Hope Show" for ordering that extra paper.
When I finally plopped into my seat, everyone was applauding and a few shook my hand. I could tell they believed I had come that close to not making it out of there — but by some miracle I had and we were on our way home. It would take me twenty-eight years to muster the courage to go back.
Excerpted from The Laugh Makers: A Behind-the-Scenes Tribute to Bob Hope's Incredible Gag Writers was published by Bear Manor Media and was named one of Leonard Maltin's "Top 20 Year-End Picks." To order: http://bobhopeslaughmakers.weebly.com
Kindle e-book $2.99: www.amazon.com/dp/B0041D9EPO
View photos at: http://bobhopeshowbackstage.weebly.com
In 1974, soon after Richard Nixon opened relations with the People's Republic of China, Bob Hope began a behind-the-scenes campaign to become the first American entertainer to tape a television special there. He spent the next five years cajoling the State Department and the Department of Defense — at the start of every new season, I'd say, "We doing
China this year?" and he'd say, "Any day now. Stay packed."
Leaning on a raft of influential government pals including Henry Kissinger and calling in markers he'd been collecting from the government since World War II, he finally received permission to take our show there as part of a cultural exchange program dubbed "Ping-Pong Diplomacy" by the press.
On June 16, 1979, after a four-hour flight from Narita, Japan, a Chinese Airlines 707 filled with our merry band of mirth makers eager to get their first look at this hotbed of Communism, touched down at the Peking (now Beijing) Airport.
Many times during the almost two decades that I traveled the world with Bob Hope, I realized that I was enjoying a wonderful and unique experience that most people never get the opportunity to sample. And the word "wonderful" hardly does the experience justice. Traveling with an internationally recognized entertainment icon like Bob Hope has to rank among the most exhilarating experiences known to man. You're chased after, fawned over, catered to and must keep reminding yourself that it's not you who's causing all the commotion.
Just by being physically near a well-known star who's liked and admired by the public (in Hope's case, almost beloved), those around him or her experience a fair amount of those same warm feelings the celebrity receives. One can, indeed, bask in their limelight and, as long as the celebrity who is causing the adulation remains in the immediate vicinity, you feel as safe and protected as the pilot fish you see on those nature shows swimming beside a shark.
In China, I spent the better part of our month-long visit never far from Hope. But when it came time to return home, he had departed Peking a day early to complete a public appearance tour of the Far East. Suddenly, I was alone and on my own. I was now a pilot fish without its shark!
On getaway day, I reported to the airport and presented my passport and Chinese travel papers to the authorities — a group of guys in brown khaki uniforms with little Red Army stars on their caps. I was informed that my documents were virtually riddled with irregularities that likely would preclude my departure that day.
Stunned, I looked at our young, college student Chinese interpreter — by now we had become pretty close pals — who explained that, in the confusion of our arrival with Hope's entourage a month before, someone had neglected some extremely important stamping and initialing. As more — and successively higher ranking — army guys arrived behind the counter to help determine my fate, I sensed the interpreter was pleading with them to release me.
The engines on the Chinese Airlines 707 were revving up just outside the lobby door. I could see that the folding stairs up front were still down, but the rear boarding ramp had been rolled away. Inside, secure in their seats, were the show's producer James Lipton, our stars Mickhail Baryshnikov, Crystal Gayle, Sesame Street's Big Bird (Caroll Spinney) and the other members of our production crew. They were about to take off and my seat was empty!
As my panic was growing more obvious (sweat was spurting out of me like the Trevi Fountain), my interpreter leaned over and whispered, "When I nod, walk directly to the plane, board, and whatever you do, don't look back." My parting gift to him of several reams of high quality erasable bond from the show's supply locker had paid off. (Tips are frowned on in China, but gifts are welcome, and back then paper was as scarce as cheap gasoline is today.)
Now the bureaucratic summit meeting behind the counter was reaching fever pitch. As the soldiers motioned for their superiors, obviously seeking higher authorization to formally detain me, my trusted student ally nodded toward the door. I shook his hand, spun around and walked toward the plane with that same determined stride that had worked so well for Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca."
As instructed, I didn't dare look back as several young sound guys pulled me aboard the taxiing plane, yanked the stairs in after me and latched the door. I learned later that Jim Lipton, a pilot himself, had asked the Chinese pilot to delay the takeoff until I was aboard. I am forever in his debt for a rescue from a bureaucratic nightmare — and to the "Bob Hope Show" for ordering that extra paper.
When I finally plopped into my seat, everyone was applauding and a few shook my hand. I could tell they believed I had come that close to not making it out of there — but by some miracle I had and we were on our way home. It would take me twenty-eight years to muster the courage to go back.
Excerpted from The Laugh Makers: A Behind-the-Scenes Tribute to Bob Hope's Incredible Gag Writers was published by Bear Manor Media and was named one of Leonard Maltin's "Top 20 Year-End Picks." To order: http://bobhopeslaughmakers.weebly.com
Kindle e-book $2.99: www.amazon.com/dp/B0041D9EPO
View photos at: http://bobhopeshowbackstage.weebly.com
Source...