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built the first grand apartment building for Chinese—the Low Apartments—up on Powell. He probably deemed himself the grandest man in Chinatown, but if he was, then he would have identified me on sight, and he didn’t. He was just a middle-aged lucky so-and-so with a healthy girth that proclaimed to all that he could eat well even in these hard times. But, as they say, the fish is the last to realize he lives in the water , meaning Charlie was just another creature in the pond until someone bigger and better—like my baba—pulled him out and showed him what was what.
    “I’m Charlie Low,” he announced. “This is my wife, a little gal with a big voice, Li Tei Ming.” Then he motioned to the two other men still sitting on their chairs. “These two cowboys are Walton Biggerstaff and Eddie Wu. One is your choreographer, and the other is a dancer. You can guess who is who.” That earned some giggles, and Charlie threw his shoulders back in response. “This will be the best nightclub San Francisco has ever seen. Okay, so it won’t be the first Chinese nightclub, but it will be the first Chinese nightclub outside Chinatown. We’ll appeal to the most discriminating San Franciscans. I’m talking about lo fan .”
    Grace frowned. Her ignorance of even the most basic Chinese words amazed me. I whispered, “He’s talking about Occidentals—white ghosts.”
    When Charlie said, “I want girls who can sing and dance,” Istarted to rise as did a couple of others. Grace and Ruby pulled me back to the floor.
    “Wait!” Ruby whispered. “Just listen!”
    Charlie chuckled at the reaction he’d gotten. “You kids got me wrong,” he went on. “We know most of you don’t know how to dance. How could you? You’re proper Chinese daughters. Am I right?” The other girls, who’d gotten up, sat down again too. “We want to see if you can move. If you can move and you’re pretty, then we’ll teach you to dance. It won’t be hard, I swear. The main thing I want is pretty. Got it?”
    “Well, then, we don’t have anything to worry about,” Ruby whispered again. “We can’t miss!”
    “I won’t have a lot of rules around here, except for one,” Charlie continued. “I’m going to hire only Chinese for my floor show. This is our chance, and we’re going to make this place unique … and fun! Now, here’s Walton. Consider him your maestro and call him Mr. Biggerstaff.”
    The tall and lanky lo fan got to his feet and spoke in a voice as smooth as caramel. “I want to see you all onstage.”
    My stomach churned nervously as I followed Ruby and Grace. They moved like dancers, which I wasn’t. I was clumsy and scared, but a girl a couple of rows over lumbered like an old water buffalo. Even a crow loses its gait when attempting to roam like a swan .
    “Let’s start with each of you walking toward me,” Mr. Biggerstaff said.
    This part went fast. Either a girl could walk in a straight line or she couldn’t. Either she had biggish breasts or she didn’t. Either she was short or she wasn’t. (Not that any of us was all that big—barely five feet or so, and not one over one hundred pounds.) Either she was pretty or she wasn’t. Fifteen girls were thanked and dismissed on the spot. They were told to send other Chinese girls who were new to town and wanted work.
    “Now give me four lines,” Mr. Biggerstaff ordered. Ruby, Grace, and I ended up in the back. “Three steps forward, toe tap, two steps,kick, and turn to the right. We’ll do four bars. Start on the right foot. One, two …”
    Ruby moved well—delicate, like an ibis—but Grace was completely transformed. She was terrific, truly gifted. Charlie, Eddie, and Mr. Biggerstaff could barely take their eyes off her. She shone with each step, kick, and turn. At the other end of the spectrum, I was pathetic, and my dark and heavy clothes made me look even worse. Was I washing my face in a whirl of dust and disappointing myself needlessly?
    After