THE USUAL NOTE FROM LB: From the summer of 2002 to the spring of 2010, Gwen the Beautiful and I were the proud and often exhausted owners of a beautiful Ozarks property we called Cloud Creek Ranch.
In many ways, the ranch was paradise. But it was a paradise with a price that started going up before we even knew it existed. Here’s another Monday musing about our adventure and the lessons we learned.
Oh, and if y’all detect any irony, please believe me when I say it comes straight from the universe and not your kindly Uncle Larry B.
by Larry Brody
Gwen the Beautiful and I have just returned from an unexpected trip. We went about as far from home as it’s possible to go.
All the way to China.
It was an amazing experience, courtesy of Frank Lee, a Hong Kong songwriter and entrepreneur.
Frank and I have known each other for years and have been trying to find a reason to work together. Well, that’s not completely true. Frank’s been gnawing on the work thing, but Larry B’s mostly been sitting back and hoping for a free trip to parts unknown.
A couple of weeks ago, Frank finally put it together. “I need your help on a project,” he said over the phone. “Can you and Gwen be here in three days?”
“What?” I said. “Get ready for a trip like that in only three days? That’s—“
I was going to say “impossible,” but Gwen heard the conversation and rushed across the room to me. “Tell him it’s perfect,” she whispered to me.
“But he wants us to be in China by Monday,” I said.
“And I’ve wanted to be in China for twenty years! We can make it happen. You know we can.”
At the other end of the line, Frank heard the conversation. And I heard him chuckle.
“I’ll wire you the money for your airfare right away,” he said.
And he did.
The following Monday, after a full day of travel—exactly 24 hours from the time we entered the first of several airports (in Little rock) to the time we walked out of the last (in Hong Kong)—Gwen and I were met at the airport by Frank and whisked off to a 5 Star hotel in the busiest, most crowded city I’ve ever seen.
Seven million people packed onto one small island, hurrying, hurrying, hurrying through vast, interconnected networks of crowded skyscrapers, skyways, and streets.
The dense throng of humans moved forward, backward, up, down. Its members dodged and weaved and slid past one another. Anticipated traffic signals, whether they were driving or on foot.
Our hotel was located smack in the heart of the Red Light District. “You’ll love this place,” Frank said. “It was the inspiration for the movie, ‘The World of Suzie Wong.’ The movie was shot right here too.”
“Um, Frank, that movie was about a house of ill repute.”
Frank chuckled, just as he had over the phone. “I told you, you would love it!”
Gwen and I did love the hotel, but not because of its past. With the exception of the signs proudly proclaiming its heritage, nothing was left of the Suzie Wong days.
We were installed in a room on the twenty-something floor of a building so modern that we felt like we’d been propelled into one of George Lucas’s most intense dreams.
We hadn’t expected such technology. Who could’ve known we’d be spending so much time in a place so eerily resembling the original Disneyland’s Tomorrowland?
Impressive as the technology is, though, what Hong Kong really is all about, is commerce. And before we moved on to the Mainland), I got a taste of how business is done there.
Frank’s project was a documentary film about a singing group that’s become one of the hottest tickets in Asia. Although it’s very popular, it’s not a pop group. The Quintessenso Children’s Choir (which is how the Chinese name translates into English) is composed of thirty-plus Mongolian children, singing and dancing their way through traditional Mongolian folk songs.
The songs sound much like those of various American Indian tribes, but the instrumentation is different. More than flutes and drums are in play here. The choir’s band makes heavy use of cellos and string basses carved in the shape of horse heads, and there’s even what seems like a Cajun touch: A crazy, zany little accordion.
My job was to advise Frank on how to make his film more interesting and help him through the maze that is the business side of filmmaking. I think I did a good job on the creative side, but although I brought him as up to date as I could about working with Hollywood film companies, all I could do when we met with potential Chinese investors was sit back and marvel.
At how it was like doing business in Paradise.
Does the phrase, “Good Ole Boy Network,” ring a bell?
More on this next time, including an astounded visitor’s look at…Beijing.
