Topless in Hong Kong: ex-show girl Neva Shaw recalls 1960s nightlife
The American danced up and down Nathan Road, dodged tear gas outside the Mandarin, performed for troops in Vietnam, and remembers when Russell Street was "nothing", she tells Madeleine Fitzpatrick
My friend was dating (comedian) Lenny Bruce's manager in 1960 on Sunset Strip, and he introduced us to another Hollywood agent. He said, "Little girls, you're so gorgeous … Become exotic dancers." Oh my God, panic! He said, "You'll make this much. No entertaining customers: I belong to a union." We made beautiful costumes, but I didn't know what to do. The first time I went on stage, I left in a hair curler! Later, I learned to eat fire; I created an act. I became Neva Shaw, Goddess of Fire. Working at night, I had all day to tour places on my own. The hotels were paid for; I went to parties. Girls didn't drink back then. In my day, darling, I was a baby: your 22 and mine, believe me, are millions of light years apart. No one swore - "gosh" and "gee", we said. Well, I got rid of those words quickly (laughs). I always carried with me my Penguin books - Somerset Maugham. I fell in love with his Asian stories. Our agent had connections in Tokyo. "Hey, little girls" - he was Jewish, of course - "I think you need to go to Japan." Oh! The nightclubs had eight-, 12-, 14-piece bands; lights, rehearsals - it was a . We were only topless; no bumping or grinding.
I was sent to Hong Kong in 1962 by an agent. In those days, all the show people stayed on Carnarvon Road or at Chungking Mansions. It wasn't Indian at all: there were no Indian restaurants. All the Chungking guesthouses were owned by Chinese; there were antique shops on the ground floor. And a sea view. There were tons of nightclubs to work in. A club in Mong Kok called Sunya was one of my favourites; there was a club called Oceana in Ocean Terminal; Buckingham Palace and Golden Crown on Nathan Road. The audience was Chinese. You were allowed to be topless; that's all. You had to do a police interview. They took a picture of you in your costume, and that's what you performed in. That was the law. There was no tunnel across to Hong Kong side back then - after the ferries stopped, if you stayed at your friend's house late, you had to take a walla-walla across the harbour. Everyone wore cheongsam - made for the Chinese girl's body; absolutely gorgeous. I used to take rickshaws; the drivers were all Chiu Chow. They all knew me: "Hey! ! !" I had two cheongsam - long and short. But for dancing they weren't easy to get in and out of, so I didn't wear them for work.
I remember the riots at the Star Ferry in the '60s (triggered by the colonial government's decision to increase the fare by 25 per cent). Tear gas would be set off in front of the Mandarin, as I was trying to get into the hotel, away from the people with their Mao books, marching down the street, yelling at me especially, "White monkey girl!" (in English).
I felt like, 'I'm in the war, but nothing can touch me. I'm young and gorgeous!' I had no sense of fear.
I loved Russell Street, in Causeway Bay. Now a small shop is, I heard, US$20 million, US$30 million to buy. It was nothing in my day - there were snack shops, noodle shops. If I'd only had a crystal ball … I also remember around that time, being in Dairy Lane supermarket on Nathan Road and seeing two old amahs perusing the aisles. They came to the pet-food shelf. "Wah! What's this? Even Westerners eat dog! They eat cat!" they said. They had no idea we made food for animals. And they loved the pictures on the tins - pet food labels have the best-looking animals. An Irish setter or a labrador; a gorgeous Cheshire cat. "Is this one tastier, or this one?" they asked.
I worked in Vietnam during the war. I have a bit of tinnitus from working on a (United States military) base: there was an explosion and I fell off a cot, and I couldn't hear. I wasn't in Saigon only: I worked all over. I felt like, "I'm in the war, but nothing can touch me. I'm young and gorgeous!" I had no sense of fear. American soldiers adored package shows - a singer and a dancer put together to make one show. I was there during the Tet Offensive in 1968, at a famous nightclub called Maxim's. We were locked in for five days with old baguettes and hot tea - there was no more food. There was firing in the streets of Saigon; sandbags and machine guns on every corner. It was war, darling!
After the war and after I had finished dancing, I got married and had a child. I bought a flat here (in 1980). There was a pub for sale - across the street from Playboy and around the corner from Bottoms Up, in Tsim Sha Tsui. I bought it and turned it into a nightclub, Professional Club. Inside, the walls were red velvet and all around were photographs of movie stars: Marilyn Monroe, Shirley Temple, Brigitte Bardot, Jeanne Moreau, Marlene Dietrich.
If somebody liked a girl at my bar, she'd always get him to buy Dom Perignon for her. Honey, I charged over HK$1,200 a bottle - back then!
I had an exotic dancer and a show with a band between 2am and 2.30am. Food-and-beverage managers from the Mandarin, the Hilton or the Peninsula would come; and husbands and wives. The girls were all beautiful, all young. I was never bothered by triads because I didn't run girls. I was the most fabulous hostess. I became known as the Champagne Girl with the Hat. I was adored. If somebody liked a girl at my bar, she'd always get him to buy Dom Perignon for her. Honey, I charged over HK$1,200 a bottle - back then! I had tons of cop clientele. They'd put their guns behind the bar because they wanted to get pissed. Cops love bars!
Life isn't waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in it. Step out. Tap dance on the street. See, I don't use the words "stressed" or "depression". I dance in the storm because it's not going to rage forever. It will pass.
