CHAN TO CHAN [193 -197]

Pag.193

CHAN TO CHAN 

The backbreaking work at the construction site took up my days, and kept me from thinking too much about my failures while the sun was up. Nighttimes, though, were still long and painful. I thought of what I’d left behind in Hong Kong, and I thought of Oh Chang and her kindness. I thought about the promise that my life had once held. Even after my hours of hard labor, it was difficult to sleep. Rather than lie awake, turning in bed, I took a second job, working as a kitchen assistant in a local Chinese restaurant. I didn’t know how to cook, despite my dad’s talent, but I knew how to chop vegetables, and restaurants always needed a strong back around. My life turned into a never-ending whirl of work, exhausted sleep, and more work. I stopped thinking about my troubles. I stopped thinking at all. 

My father was happy that I was at least staying out of trouble. My mother, on the other hand, knew that something was wrong. 

After I’d spent several months at this breakneck schedule, Mom confronted me, late at night, as I walked in from my second job. 

“Jackie,”—even Mom had taken to calling me by my adopted name now—“it is nice to have you here with us. We’re happy, but I think you aren’t happy.” 

I sat down in a chair and lay my head back on the headrest. “I’m happy,” I said, without much conviction. 

She came over and put her hand on my shoulder. “Jackie, I am your mother. I know you better than you know yourself, and even if your father is willing to look the other way when you lie to him, I cannot. I know this is not what you should be doing with your life.” 

“What can I do?” I shouted, sudden feelings of bitterness welling up in my heart. “I spent my entire life learning a useless profession. I’ve got nothing left.” 

My mother hugged me and reassured me that I had much more than I thought. I had the love and faith of my parents, I had my health, and I had my youth. “Remember, Jackie, you came to us in the Year of the Horse,” she said. “You were born to be a great man, and you will go on to do great things. But you can’t do them here. This is not where you belong.”

Pag.194

And then, with her mother’s heart, she told me to go. Knowing that it would hurt to lose me again, she still pushed me away. 

Because to her, as always, my happiness was more important than hers. That’s a mother’s love.

I decided then I would have to go back to Hong Kong, to somehow succeed—if only to make my mom’s faith in me come true. 

But how? My brothers were mostly struggling to find their own way in the industry, after Bruce Lee’s death; and though my reputation as a stuntman was still one of the best in the industry, going back to the grind of stunt work was no reason to take the long trip back—even if there were jobs available. 

It was at this point that someone who would become one of the most important people in my life entered the picture: my manager and very best friend, Willie Chan. 

As I mentioned before, Willie, who was working then as the assistant general manager of the Cathay Organization, used to come around to my old studio all the time. Because Willie was in charge of scouting films for his company to distribute, he was a regular fixture around the place. In fact, Golden Harvest had bought Cathay’s old studios, so the connection between the two companies was very strong. 

Of course, I didn’t really know him then. As a stuntman, I never spoke to anybody important. And Willie was a big man—in addition to working for Cathay, he’d produced a hit movie of his own called Love is a Four-Letter Word, and he always hung out with the top stars in Hong Kong.

The first time I really met him was at a big celebrity wedding: Charlie Chin, who was a very popular actor from Taiwan, married his girlfriend, an actress named Sing Wong Fang, and to make sure the fans didn’t cause any trouble, they wanted a bunch of us stuntmen to serve as bodyguards. I volunteered, and tried to be as helpful as possible. I remember Willie complimenting me on how well I handled the situation, and he gave me his business card, though he probably didn’t think I’d ever call him. 

It’s funny, because later, I ended up starring in some movies with Charlie, along with my brothers Samo and Yuen Biao. By that time, I’d gotten to be very successful, and I don’t know if he ever knew that I’d been doing crowd control at his wedding. 

Anyway, when I got to Australia, I wrote some letters to people back in Hong Kong, just to let them know that I’d moved. One of them was Willie, mostly because I still had his card. I never thought he’d read the letter, but actually, when I brought it up to him one day recently, he pulled open his desk drawer in his office and showed me that he’d kept it—after all these years. 

I was very touched. 

Pag.195 

Willie sometimes says it was because of the letter that he decided to contact me. Other times, he says it was because he was impressed with my behavior at Charlie’s wedding; still other times, he says that he’d seen me doing some of my stunts and thought I was talented, although young and not yet a very good actor. I really don’t care why he did. Whatever the reason, his call saved me from spending the rest of my life in Australia, cutting vegetables and laying bricks, and for that, I’ll be grateful to him for the rest of my life. 

At that time Willie had just left Cathay to work as general manager at a new production company, formed by the millionaire director Lo Wei. 

Lo had made quite a few hit films, and—of course—he had directed Bruce Lee in The Big Boss and Fist of Fury. After Bruce’s tragic death, the martial arts film industry had suffered greatly, and it wasn’t just us stuntmen who ended up out on the streets. Luckily for Lo, he had enough of a reputation to land on his feet, going into business on his own. 

His first big project was going to be a remake of Fist of Fury, his most successful film ever, starring most of the original cast. The problem was that the original was successful for one reason, and one reason only—Bruce Lee—and no other action star was big enough at the time to step into Siu Lung’s shoes.  No one could convince Lo that that was true, of course; with his ego, he probably thought that any half-decent fighter could be successfully plugged into the lead role. Lo was the millionaire director, after all. 

As he was fond of bragging, he didn’t ride on stars. He created them. 

The first step toward the resurrection of my career was actually a telegram that came while I was out on my day job. I arrived home, sweaty and tired as usual, to find a while envelope on my bed, along with a note from my mother saying that it had come for me that morning. I opened the envelope and read, through eyes blurry with exhaustion, that Willie Chan wanted me to give him a call about a job. The originating address of the telegram was Lo Wei Productions, Ltd. 

What could he possibly want from me? I thought to myself. Somehow, my hazy brain processed the fact that whatever he wanted from me was better than what I was doing now. So, after changing out of my perspiration-drenched clothes, I went to find someone who would let me use a telephone.

The phone rang eight or nine times before someone picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hello, this is Jackie Chan…is Willie there?”

There was a pause. “This is Willie. Who is this?”

I’d forgotten that no one in Hong Kong knew me as Jackie! “I mean, um, this is Chan Kong-sang. Chan Yuen Lo.” 

“Yuen Lo?” The voice sounded even more puzzled. 

Pag.196

“Yuen Lung!” I said, in desperation. I’d been using Biggest Brother’s old name on the productions I’d done before leaving Hong Kong. By this time, even I was confused about what my name was! “You sent me a telegram.”

“Oh! Yes. Yuen Lung,” said Willie. “Forgive me. Yes, I wanted to know if you were available to work on a film.”

I didn’t want to seem too eager. “Well, I’m retired right now,” I said. “What’s the film?” 

“You’re somewhat young to be retired, aren’t you?” said Willie. “The film is called New Fist of Fury. Lo will be directing it.”

New Fist of Fury. As reluctant as I was to stand in Bruce’s shadow, working on a remake of Bruce’s blockbuster hit sounded like a terrific opportunity. I tried to keep the enthusiasm out of my voice.

“Well, what do you need? There are plenty of out-of-work stuntmen around,” I said. “Doesn’t seem like you need to call across an ocean to find someone qualified.”

“Actually,” said Willie, “we’re looking for someone to play the lead.” 

The lead? Replace Bruce? 

Me?

“Oh,” I said. “Ah—I see.”

“Can you do it?”

“Well, of course,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “If the money is right.”

“Mmm,” said Willie. “That could be a problem. We can only pay you three thousand Hong Kong dollars a month.” 

“What? Three thousand dollars?” 

I’ve never been very good at math, but even so, figuring out how little this was was simple. Between my two rotten jobs, I was making about U.S.$1000 a month. Three thousand Hong Kong dollars was about four hundred U.S. dollars.

“I know it’s not very much, but this is our first production,” said Willie. “And besides, we’ll be taking a risk using you—an unknown actor.” 

I gulped. So much for trying to sound cool. “I guess I’ll take it,” I said. 

“Good! You’ll have to come to Hong Kong immediately. Shooting starts in two weeks.”

“Uh—”

“Yes?”

“Can you at least send me a plane ticket?” 

Willie laughed. “I suppose we can do that. See you soon…Jackie.” 

I hung up the phone feeling dizzy. I was back in business…but at a discount price. I wasn’t even sure if I could survive on HK$3000 a month. And what if the project failed, like Da Di and Little Tiger? 

Then again, what if I wasted the rest of my life peeling vegetables here in Australia?

Pag.197

I’m an optimistic person by nature. I decided that I’d figure out what to do about money when it became a problem. Until then, I had at least one thing to look forward to: quitting my lousy restaurant job. 

I grinned, and left the embassy for my last day on the night shift. I’d enjoy the chance finally to tell my boss what he could do with his stupid vegetables.