Thrown upon the World

The day was cold, dictating that all the guests wear warm overcoats, hats, and gloves on their way to the marriage ceremony at the Promenaden Café on East Seward Road in Shanghai’s poorest district. The officiant, Dr. Kurt Primo, seeing the darkening overcast skies, carried an umbrella. Better safe than sorry, he thought, especially since he had two more weddings to perform later in the day, although neither would be as unusual as this. He could only guess what kind of trouble the groom had stepped into to be marrying a Chinese girl. The young man had a dubious reputation among the members of the Jewish B’nai B’rith Lodge. A shame, since his father, Josef Kolber, was such a fine and well-respected man. Dr. Primo sighed as he pushed his shoulder into the wind, wondering how many other young Jewish men had found themselves caught in the underbelly of war-torn Shanghai.
As Chao Chen and Ya-Li stepped out of the taxicab onto East Seward Road, the bride noticed the “In Bounds” sign posted in the window of the Promenaden Café, signaling that it was safe for U.S. military personnel to eat and drink there. It also guaranteed that the café would be crowded and overshadow the small wedding party, which had assembled in a dark corner, waiting for the bride’s arrival.
Ya-Li grabbed Chao Chen’s hand and guided her through the rowdy crowd. Some of the Seabees, sailors of the U.S. Navy’s Construction Brigade sent to Shanghai to repair a deep-water pier severely damaged by Allied and Japanese bombing, whistled at her as she passed.
Sitting at the piano was Bobby Johnston, a well-known Negro jazz pianist from Philadelphia who played at the clubs and cafés around Shanghai, a city that could never get enough of American music, especially jazz. His raspy voice and nimble fingers earned him a silver tray full of tips whenever he performed.
As Chao Chen and Ya-Li passed by, Bobby Johnston interrupted what he was playing, threw her an admiring glance, then broke into “The More I See You.” The sailors sang out, “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the rare delight of the sight of you.”
Chao Chen wished she could just run away from this unwanted attention, but she willed her feet to keep moving toward her groom, who was laughing at something Professor Alfred Wittenberg was saying. As she neared, Walter caressed Chao Chen’s neck and whispered in her ear, “I was beginning to worry about you. It’s already past one o’clock.”
“You didn’t look too concerned, Walter. Weren’t you just now laughing at one of Professor Wittenberg’s jokes? I hoped you’d be waiting at the door to the café, looking out for me.”
“You know how important it is that I appear to be hanging on his every word. I need his patronage. Without it I won’t get anywhere.”
Chao Chen sighed. “Sometimes I think you overdo it, Walter.”
Walter signaled for the guests to gather around, and in a matter of only a few minutes the perfunctory civil ceremony concluded. Then, with everyone looking on, Walter embraced Chao Chen, bent her back at the waist, and kissed her on the lips with the false ardor of a movie star in a romantic scene. The guests applauded and then found their seats at the two tables reserved for the wedding party. Chao Chen, startled by her groom’s sudden show of affection, wondered, Did that kiss really mean anything to him?
Everyone raised their glasses and in the moment of quiet that followed, Professor Wittenberg seized the opportunity to deliver his toast to the bride and groom. “It was Beethoven’s ‘Spring Sonata’ for violin and piano that brought these two talented young people together,” he said, beaming with pride. “As the seasons of their lives change from spring to summer, from summer to fall, and so on, may they always make beautiful music together.” He raised his glass still higher and continued. “Let us make a toast to their health and happiness, and to the children they might someday be blessed to bring into a world that is finally at peace. May it always remain so.”
Chao Chen blushed at the mention of children.
Then Professor Wittenberg reached under the table and handed Walter his violin case, nodding to the café’s owner, Frau Reuben. “The Promenaden Café has graciously given Walter and Chao Chen permission to perform a short duet for us. Perhaps the other customers will temper their revelry for a few minutes.” He turned around and scowled at the sailors, expecting that his expression would have the same effect on them it did on his music students, but they simply ignored him. It was only when Chao Chen was seated at the piano and Walter tuned his violin that a hush finally fell over the crowd.
Walter cleared his throat and announced, “My lovely bride, Chao Chen, and I would like to play a short duet for you.” One sailor who’d had too much to drink booed and yelled, “Get off the stage! Bring Johnston back! We didn’t pay to hear these two.” Then he started stomping his feet. Someone grabbed him and pushed him back into his seat.
Chao Chen played the first two measures, which she thought of as pulling back the curtain on the composition so that Walter’s violin could take center stage. She complemented his style, adjusting her tempo to his, delicately pressing the pedal with the changing harmonies of the piece. It was a flawless performance, the happiness of the composer and his love for his fiancée finely communicated by Walter and Chao Chen.
As the final breath of music—played by Walter alone—hung suspended in the smoke-filled café, everyone stood up and cheered. Walter and Chao Chen took their bows and Bobby Johnston returned to the stage. “Your magnificent performance has brought tears to my eyes,” Bobby said. “I’d like to give you a wedding gift, from one musician to another.” Turning around, he handed Walter all the tip money that sat on his silver tray. The sailors broke out in applause and cheers. Walter stuffed the money into his jacket pockets, thanked the pianist, and walked back to his guests. Chao Chen followed behind him, unable to hold back her tears. Anyone looking at her would have interpreted them as tears of joy.