Decoys originate from man’s efforts to lure waterfowl. Whether hunting with nets, traps, or firearms, hunters came to value decoys as highly as boats, blinds, and shotguns. As weaponry improved and populations increased in the latter part of the 19th century, more and more people hunted waterfowl for food and sport, and the demand for decoys grew. The art of the decoy entailed that the fabrications should appear lifelike from afar—the more realistic the decoys, the more successful the hunt.
The waterfowl decoy is now a treasured form of folk art. Often highly sought after as collectibles, many are quite valuable. From old working decoys to the modernized, stylized, and finely carved, they reflect the impact of technology, environment, society, and economy on an American way of life.
(Courtesy of John V. Quarstein)
The Magic of Migration
When the crisp winds of fall break across the Chesapeake, we hear again the glorious music of the migrant Canada goose drifting through the air. Look up into the sky or out above the cut cornfields, and you can see their wavering lines passing into the distance. One wonders what compels these birds to travel thousands of miles each year from their northern breeding grounds to winter destinations along the Atlantic Coast, and back again. How do they find their way? How do they know when to go and when to return? The answers to these questions lie in the mystery of migration.
The movement north and south of migratory waterfowl is probably triggered by meteorological conditions, including temperature and barometric pressure. The birds travel certain routes to particular places based on food and water sources, and waterfowl flocks return each year to the same wintering areas because of imprinting.
The Atlantic Flyway welcomes birds from the eastern Arctic, the coast of Greenland, Labrador, Newfoundland, Hudson Bay, the Yukon, and the prairies of Canada and the United States. Millions of ducks, swans, and geese move along the coast and overwinter on the Chesapeake and North Carolina sounds.
The Chesapeake Bay region is a great magnet for migrating waterfowl. These protected waters provide food and a safe haven. Aquatic grasses fill the waterways, and the harvested fields are sprinkled with corn. The tremendous number of birds flocking to the region has driven decoy demand for centuries.
Humans have been hunting waterfowl for food and sport for thousands of years. (RubberBall Productions/Brand X Pictures/Getty Images)
Waterfowl in America
The word decoy is derived from the Dutch words for the (de), cage (kooi), and duck or fowl (eend). The Dutch brought to New Amsterdam—today’s New York—an ancient method of using cages and tame ducks to lure and trap wild fowl. The tame birds were called the cage ducks, or “de kooi eend.” By the mid-19th century, the word decoy became commonplace in America as “an image of a bird used to entice within gunshot.”
While the earliest known decoys were used by pre-Columbian North Americans, a combination of factors expanded the demand for waterfowl during the post-Civil War era in America. Migratory birds, including canvasback ducks and whistling swans, were abundant, but access to and distribution of this seemingly endless food source was problematic. Rapid population growth motivated Americans to find ways to harvest the crop, and the expansion of railroads provided routes for refrigerated cars to transport the delicious waterfowl meat to eager markets in major cities otherwise disconnected from rivers, bays, and marshes.
At the same time, firearm improvements brought increased efficiency for hunters. From the paper shotgun shell to lever-action, pump-action, and eventually automatic shotguns, firing speed rose and weapons became so effective that waterfowl were quickly endangered, forcing the passage of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918.
Prior to that, natural abundance coupled with technological innovation enabled the harvesting of thousands of ducks each year. On the flat tidelands of the Susquehanna River, sinkbox blinds were favored—typically by market hunters—and required 300 to 700 decoys per layout. An estimated 75 sinkboxes were in use during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. With 50 to 100 decoys per sneakbox boat, and countless shore-blind rigs, approximately 20,000 decoys or more were needed every year to support hunting activities.
A shorebird decoy stands on driftwood. Made around 1900, it has tacks for eyes and a nail for its bill. It is part of the author’s personal collection. (Courtesy of John V. Quarstein)
The rapid expansion of market and sport hunting after the Civil War Era prompted many guides to begin making decoys, and the craft became an important trade. Influenced by regional differences in water, weather, paint, and stylistic traditions, decoy designs were handed down through generations. Every maker had an opinion about how various waterfowls should look.
Decoy-making practices were well established by the mid-19th century. Decoys were hand-chopped using simple woodworking tools such as axes, chopping blocks, spokeshaves, and various kinds of knives. With the rise in popularity of waterfowling in the 20th century, decoy needs increased, and the influence of industrialization set in just as the market expanded beyond the capacity of traditional makers.
Enterprising businessmen, hunters, and woodworkers endeavored to promote and mass-produce decoys. Traditional carvers turned to power tools to increase output. While some operations employed only a few workers and continued to use traditional carving methods, other manufacturers used assembly line processes. The common ground for these early producers was in advertising their products throughout the nation and shipping good-looking, high-quality decoys.
A Legacy Carved in Wood
Makers had often endeavored to craft decent decoys from materials other than wood. The post-World War I era witnessed the first shift from wooden working decoys to decoys mass-produced from other materials. This transition changed the decoy industry. Following World War II, decoys made from cork, canvas, papier-mâché, and plastic appeared. Many of these new styles were patented, and each promised to bring in the most ducks. As the cost of wooden birds increased, other types of decoys became more popular and dominated gunning rigs. Wood-carvers could not compete economically against plastic birds, and their work changed from crafting hunting tools to creating artworks.
People had already recognized the folk art qualities of decoys. Traditional makers strove for realism, carving decoys with raised wings or turned heads, for example. Others crafted miniatures as samples of their work. These “fancy ducks,” as Lem Ward called the early decoratives, began selling at premium prices. In time, carvers expanded their techniques by using wood burning tools to detail feathers, or branching out into new technologies like dental tools to make decoys so lifelike that any duck would be surprised to find otherwise.
(Courtesy of John V. Quarstein)
The art of the decoy is ever-changing. Today’s decoys are mixtures of traditional working decoys and reflections of minute detail. Many decoys aren’t intended as hunting tools, yet plenty still are. The craft continues as a connection between man and nature, form and function.
Waterfowl decoys existed for thousands of years before collectors came to appreciate the decoy as a historic art form—one of the oldest forms of American folk art—with a potential for aesthetic value exceeding its functional worth. While many decoys served as simple tools of the bayman’s trade, others became expressions of the birds themselves. In the end, material and style aren’t as important as process and overall effect. When a decoy truly captures a bird in body and spirit, then we call it art.
The Drifter I’m just an old has-been decoy No ribbons I have won. My sides and head are full of shot From many a blazing gun. My home has been by the river, Just drifting with the tide. No roof have I had for shelter, No one place where I could abide. I’ve rocked to winter’s wild fury, I’ve scorched in the heat of the sun, I’ve drifted and drifted and drifted, For tides never cease to run. I was picked up by some fool collector Who put me up here on a shelf. But my place is out on the river, Where I can drift all by myself. I want to go back to the shoreline Where flying clouds hang thick and low, And get the touch of the rain drops And the velvety soft touch of the snow. —Lem Ward, Chrisfield, Maryland
Presidents depicted on Mount Rushmore (George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln) are all featured in the book "How the Best Did It" by Talmage Boston. (Scott Olson/Getty Images)
Talmage Boston: The name rings of American history. A lawyer by trade, Mr. Boston has written his way into the society of historians. As one of Texas’s finest litigators, he shares a connection with those early Americans whose lives he studies. Nearly half of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and more than half of those who signed the Constitution were lawyers.
From Yankee Stadium to the White House, Mr. Boston has written five books that connect with modern Americans on both cultural and political levels. His latest work, “How the Best Did It: Leadership Lessons From Our Top Presidents,” is not only a recollection of the country’s best presidents from George Washington to Ronald Reagan, but it is a propositional work for current and future leaders.
Talmage Boston, author of “How the Best Did It: Leadership Lessons From Our Top Presidents.”
In this conversation, Mr. Boston stated that “How the Best Did It” is a work of “applied history” that encourages readers to do more than “enjoy history,” but to “actually apply it to what you are doing in your daily life.” Digging into the lives, methods, and decisions of the top presidents―Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, and Reagan―Mr. Boston has unearthed a treasure trove of qualities, disciplines, and skills that every leader should know and apply.
A meeting between President Dwight D. Eisenhower and President-elect Kennedy, January 1961, at the Cabinet Room in the White House. (Public Domain)
American Essence: What are some of the common qualities that you noticed in the eight presidents?
Talmage Boston: I found three common qualities: One, they were all great persuaders. Some were great persuaders because they were eloquent orators. Some were great one-on-one, personal persuaders. One way or another, they moved the needle with whomever the audience was in their particular era. Two, they were all self-aware. They each had an awareness of his strengths and weaknesses. They always found ways to use their strengths. Where weak, they would bring in colleagues who were strong and allow them to take charge. Three, they all succeeded in their eras because they targeted the middle way―the great middle. They were smarter than to target the extreme right or the extreme left. They knew that was never going to accomplish anything positive. Their efforts and messages were always in terms of what the vast American middle was inclined to think on an issue.
AE: People often “want” to be leaders but don’t understand or don’t want to accept the weight that comes with responsibility. What can readers learn from your book about the demands of leadership?
Mr. Boston: For each of my chapters on the eight presidents, I identify his three most important leadership traits that caused him to be successful … a total of 24 leadership traits. But at the end of each chapter, I ask a series of questions for the reader to ask him or herself. Essentially: “How am I doing in the trait I just read about? How am I learning from my mistakes? How am I doing on unwavering integrity? How am I doing in building consensus out of factions that are trying to split the organization? How am I inspiring optimism throughout my organization?”
These leadership traits are timeless and can be applied in any generation and basically any circumstance.
AE: Leaders are often accused of surrounding themselves with yes-men. Why is it important for leaders to surround themselves with people who are industry- or subject-knowledgeable, confident enough to be disagreeable, but also buy into the leader’s overall vision?
Mr. Boston: Washington is a great example. He knew going into the Constitutional Convention, [they] were basically going to create a government from scratch and to do that you had to have a deep knowledge of history, different types of governments, and what had worked and what hadn’t. He couldn’t have studied quick enough to draw any sound conclusions, but he knew James Madison had, so he delegated the responsibility of what became known as the Virginia Plan―essentially the backbone of the Constitution. With a brand-new country, we had postwar debts and we had to figure out how to make the economy work. Washington had never studied economics or fiscal policy, but Alexander Hamilton was a financial genius, so he turned that responsibility over to him, and Hamilton did a great job.
“Washington and His Cabinet,” circa 1876, by Currier & Ives. (Library of Congress)
Lincoln was famous for his team of rivals [in his cabinet], three of whom had run against him for the Republican nomination. Two, Edward Bates and William Seward, immediately recognized that Lincoln was the smartest guy in the room. So, they became his biggest fans. Salmon P. Chase, who was something of an egomaniac, never could quite acknowledge it, but nonetheless he was a brilliant guy, and ultimately Lincoln named him Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.
Eisenhower had cabinet meetings every single Friday. As a rule, you couldn’t bring up any issue that pertained to your department. He wanted to talk about big issues. He wanted free exchange, debate, and disagreements. He wanted to hear it all. He didn’t want to make the final decision until he knew he’d considered the soundest and strongest viewpoints on all sides of the issue. That’s how Eisenhower was so effective in making good decisions.
AE: You discuss Washington’s self-criticism. You also reference Eisenhower, who once said, “Always take your job seriously, never yourself.” What was the benefit of self-criticism for these presidents?
Mr. Boston: You can’t just go through life on cruise control, thinking, “Everything I do is great. Every decision I make is wise.” Not many people like to be on the receiving end of criticism from others, but a self-aware person can acknowledge his own flaws and areas that need improvement, and then diligently go about the process of making himself better. That’s how you become the best that you can be, and all eight of these presidents became the best that he could possibly be through this rigorous self-examination and fierce desire to be better tomorrow than he was today.
AE: All of these presidents were able to communicate at a high level for varying reasons—either by speech or writing or by virtue of their body of work. How did trust and credibility contribute to these presidents’ capacity for effective communication?
Mr. Boston: It’s virtually impossible to be an effective leader if you don’t have strong credibility, which is tied to your integrity. In terms of Theodore Roosevelt, he had this ferocious egotistical personality, but it had a certain charm and appeal to it. He was probably our highest IQ president. He was not a great public speaker. But his real skills as a persuader were demonstrated as a mediator, like the Great Coal Strike one year into his presidency. Winter was coming. People didn’t have coal. No American president had ever gotten involved in a labor dispute. Roosevelt said, “If I don’t do it, then it’s not going to happen and we’re going to have half the country freezing to death.” So, he got both sides―the workers and owners―together [and] created a dialogue. Together. Separately. Listening. Talking. Brainstorming. He finally came to the approach of binding arbitration on the issues involved, and they agreed to it, which ended the strike.
A [few] years later Japan and Russia were at war and they couldn’t find a way to bring an end to it. They reached out to President Roosevelt. He got that settled, and for it he won the Nobel Peace Prize. … Later he settled a dispute in Morocco. A [year] after that, he settled a dispute at the Hague Convention. With Roosevelt’s power personality, his brilliance, his emotional intelligence of getting people to do the right thing without pissing them off, these were his skills as an up close and personal communicator that caused his presidency to be so successful.
“Good Offices,” 1905, by W.A. Rogers. President Theodore Roosevelt stands between the Russian czar and the Japanese emperor. (Library of Congress)
AE: John F. Kennedy was young and rather inexperienced politically. What made him such an effective leader?
Mr. Boston: The traits that made Kennedy stand out as a great leader that I think are important for anyone who aspires to be a great leader are, one, he was an amazingly quick study, who created great policies in three major areas in a short period of time. Two, he was calm in a crisis, and three, his ability to not only be an eloquent speaker, but for his words to inspire action―positive action.
In his first inaugural address, he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” A couple of weeks went by and he proposed the Peace Corps. Soon tens of thousands of young Americans joined the Peace Corps, and they went abroad and enhanced American PR all over the world. A year later, 1962, we were involved in the Space Race in the post-Sputnik era. Kennedy at Rice Stadium in Houston gave the famous speech where he said, “I want to send a man to the moon in this decade. And we’re going to do it not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard.” Those words, Congress heard them; all of a sudden they’re willing to spend money on the Space Race, and lo and behold we did get a man on the moon by the end of the decade. And then his speech after the Birmingham Riots awakened our conscience and reoriented the members of the House and Senate on the imperative of having a strong civil rights bill. All these positive things come out of his powerful speeches. Those are the traits from Kennedy that standout despite serving less than three years.
AE: You wrote: “Most people with ambition aspire to lead.” Ambition is often given a bad name, often tying it to famous leaders like Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, and Napoleon Bonaparte. How do you dispel the connotation that ambition is for the unscrupulous or power-driven?
Mr. Boston: Ambition can be for the unscrupulous or power-driven, but it’s also for people with good hearts and good moral compasses who simply want to be the best they can be. They have the basic human desire to want to be recognized and are willing to take on the public responsibility of governing. None of the presidents were unambitious. You don’t go through this process of elections, developing relationships, dealing with the negatives, and doing all that it takes to become the president of the United States unless you’re wildly ambitious. That doesn’t mean you’re going to be unprincipled or thoughtless. It just means you want to get to the top and in order to get to the top, you want to be the best person you can be. These presidents hit that mark.
“How the Best Did It: Leadership Lessons From Our Top Presidents” by Talmage Boston.
AUTHOR NOTE: Mr. Boston’s selection of the eight presidents is based loosely on the two most recent C-SPAN Presidential Historians Surveys.
The Browde family in front of their home in upstate New York. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
There is perhaps no single endeavor in the human experience so filled with equal parts love and worry than raising children. Levi Browde pondered the irony of this quandary as he lay in bed one winter evening back in 2015.
He was worried about his boys, Jesse and Lucas.
The family had recently moved to an upscale neighborhood in northern New Jersey. The homes were large, the lawns immaculate. The parks and baseball fields were in abundance and filled with activity. The blue-ribbon schools were well-funded and considered among the best in the state.
Yet Levi felt a specter looming over him, over his boys, and indeed, over schools and communities across the country.
So there he was lying awake long after everyone else had fallen asleep. His mind was racing through options.
Move to a ranch in Montana? Return to the family home in New Mexico and the small, spirited school that shaped his own formative years? Sell everything and travel the globe, and let the world provide an education for his boys? As the string of options passed before his mind’s eye, each seemed less plausible than the last.
Little did Levi know that in just a few weeks, he would stumble upon the most unlikely of solutions: a set of educational and artistic institutions that would give his boys both an education and career that would transform them into young men with resilience, compassion, and a remarkably positive attitude.
Jesse, Levi, Vivian, and Lucas Browde circa 2016 in upstate New York. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
A Leap of Faith
In the spring of 2015, Levi and his elder son, Jesse, embarked on a series of road trips. Determined to find a quality educational institution for the boys during their critical high school years, they scoured the northeastern U.S. for options. Levi’s father had attended Deerfield Academy in Massachusetts, which was initially high on the list. Levi’s former high school teacher and mentor was now at Phillips Exeter Academy—certainly something to consider. They also looked across New Jersey, stopping at the Peddie School, Blair Academy, and even Don Bosco, a sports powerhouse where Jesse was eager to play baseball.
With each stop, however, Levi grew only more despondent. “I just felt no one offered a clear solution,” Levi said.
About a month after the flurry of school visits had yielded no good prospects, Levi had reconnected with an old friend, Dr. Samuel Zhou, who had recently helped to start a new private school in Middletown, New York called Northern Academy. The school was new, very small, and barely on its feet.
“’Scrappy’ would be an understatement,” Levi said matter-of-factly.
Yet the vision of its staff was intriguing—and just what he was looking for.
A former University of Pennsylvania professor, Dr. Zhou had studied the education landscape for the past decade, noting several worrying trends: declining competency in core subjects, the discarding and vilification of classics, and a meteoric rise in depression and anxiety among students. And the cause of it all? The explosion of smartphones and social media among teens, a combination that several studies had already shown was decimating the lives of young people.
“This was not just a new trend like the advent of the Atari game console, or Nintendo,” Dr. Zhou said. “The combination of smartphones and social media was tearing apart the mental health of young people fundamentally, and for many, irrevocably. From the start, these platforms were engineered to addict, to distract, to inflame, and to isolate. The sky-rocketing depression, suicidality, and other horrific trends among students is 100 percent correlated to the rise of smartphones and social media.”
This was precisely the specter that had haunted Levi, and now, finally, he found a place that recognized the scale of the problem and was determined to confront it head on.
The staff at Northern Academy wanted to create a school that halted these terrible trends and gave young people “a place to re-engage with their education, as well as wholesome, tried-and-true traditions,” said Dr. Marilyn Torley, the school’s former co-principal.
For Levi, it was a no-brainer. For his wife, Vivian, not so much.
Vivian was raised in Taiwan. By U.S. standards, the strict protocols and teaching methods found in Taiwanese schools were almost military grade. Hair and skirt lengths were regulated down to the centimeter. Transgressions were met with swift punishment. All students lined up in rows for morning announcements. Boys and girls were separate, and never mingled.
For Vivian, schools were large, well-funded institutions operating consistently for decades. So when she first laid eyes on the scrappy collection of buildings that constituted Northern Academy, it was, as Vivian put it, “a hard no.”
But this wasn’t just about the school.
For the past year, Vivian had been working full time renovating a lovely, grand home located in the prestigious East Hill area in northeastern Bergen County. “It was our dream home, and I put my heart and soul into it,” Vivian said. “I designed the foyer pillars and arches myself… I hand-picked every tile and paint color. I redesigned the west wing so it could accommodate our parents.”
“The home was her third child,” Levi said. “This is where we were going to raise our boys. This was where we’d bring our parents to live with us when the time came. This was going to be our family fortress, perhaps for generations.”
Compounding the problem was the prospect of losing a warm circle of friends Vivian had accumulated in the neighborhood over the last few years. If they decided to enroll the boys in Northern Academy, Vivian would have to leave all of them behind too.
Her resistance mounted.
(L–R) Levi, Lucas, Jesse, and Vivian Browde circa 2017 in upstate New York. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
“It was a very difficult time for Vivian,” Levi said. “I was asking her to give up so much, and for what? To send our kids to a scrappy little school with an untested staff, unproven curriculum, and uncertain future. Any mother in her right mind would scream ‘no,’ and she often did… at the top of her lungs.”
And so, Levi employed a time-tested method, proven to move mountains, and yes, even Taiwanese wives.
“Baby steps,” Levi said.
That summer, the boys enrolled in Northern Academy’s summer program. During the course of the summer, the boys built a close-knit circle of friends, and enjoyed the young school immensely.
In early August, Levi called a family meeting, a common practice with the Browde family. “I know it sounds oddly formal,” he said, “but it’s actually a great way to bring the family together and engage on a singular topic. It teaches the kids to be part of informed decision-making as well as to learn how to articulate their ideas, to hear and weigh the opinions of others, and to take ownership of decisions made, even when it wasn’t their first choice.”
Levi started, laying out a case for “trying” Northern Academy for one year. If it didn’t pan out the way they liked, in the spring they’d move back to New Jersey—no harm done. The boys concurred; it was worth a shot. Everyone looked at Vivian. It was still a tough decision, but all the reasons calling her back to her dream home could not stack up against one overarching priority: a quality education and upbringing for her boys.
”OK, let’s try it,” she said with a sigh.
Lucas and Jesse in New York City on the way to see a Shen Yun Performing Arts show at Lincoln Center, circa 2015. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
A Diamond in the Rough
According to Dr. Torley, Northern Academy’s mission includes a commitment to educate in both scholastics and moral integrity. The school’s materials and clothing all bear its core values: Integrity, Compassion, Resilience.
For Jesse, who was a freshman in high school, and Lucas, who entered the seventh grade, the school did not disappoint.
Within the first two weeks of school, staff had not only ascertained Jesse’s aptitude for math, but also altered his schedule so that he could move up a grade to match his level, while carving out space for a private class that would allow him to complete the entirety of his high school math requirements by the end of his freshman year.
This kind of personal attention and willingness to create custom paths for students to flourish became a hallmark of the school.
For Levi and Vivian, the Northern Academy difference really showed through in their own interactions with teachers. “These days, parent-teacher conferences are often orchestrated to minimize the risk of parents attacking or even suing the schools instead of what it should be: an open and honest discussion about what’s best for the kids,” Levi said. In previous schools, for example, he said teachers would always have a second “witness” attend parent-teacher conferences, and the substance of the conversations was clearly calculated to minimize discomfort rather than maximize understanding.
“It was really frustrating,” Levi said. “It seems their priorities were to placate the parents and protect the school, when the priorities should be to tell the parents, in clear and no uncertain terms, exactly what’s being taught and how the student is doing.”
Northern Academy was refreshingly different. Teachers met regularly with parents, one-on-one, laying out the curriculum clearly and not mincing words about how students were progressing, and what they needed to work on.
Jesse and Lucas eat breakfast before heading to school at Northern Academy in 2016. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
The Key Ingredient
While Northern Academy offered a complete academic curriculum, from the day it opened its doors, it also offered students the option of an arts focus: classical Chinese dance, music, or fine arts. The idea behind these offerings, explained Dr. Torley, had roots in ancient Greece and reemerged in Renaissance Italy, from which the moniker “Renaissance man” was coined.
“We believe the arts are not just extracurricular activities,” said Dr. Torley. “They imbue the students with wisdom, an expanded range of empathy, and refined personal character traits like resilience, patience, and an appreciation for beauty. For any school that is serious about helping young people develop into thoughtful, moral people, they need to have a rigorous classical arts program.”
And Northern Academy was serious, especially in the classical Chinese dance program: Many of the teachers were former principal dancers of Shen Yun Performing Arts, the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company, whose training headquarters was located just 15 minutes down the road. Consequently, dance students at Northern had the opportunity to learn from professionals who, just a few years prior, were at the pinnacle of their field.
“If the school were offering a basketball clinic,” explained Dr. Torley, “it would be the equivalent to learning directly from the likes of James Worthy and Scottie Pippen. These weren’t just pros, they were former all-stars, and they had performed alongside some of the best in the world.”
Levi and Vivian had heard about the dance program at Northern Academy, but did not look into it, thinking dance was the last thing their boys would be drawn to. It was therefore somewhat of a surprise when, at the beginning of the year, Jesse and Lucas called a family meeting.
“We want to join the dance track,” the boys proclaimed.
Levi sat in the corner intrigued by the idea. He initially said nothing.
Vivian’s reaction, was immediate and clear: “No. You’re both too old and too fat,” she said.
“Woah!” Levi sat up in protest. He stared at Vivian in bewilderment, mouth open, thinking, “What are you doing?”
Vivian was unmoved. “It’s true,” she replied matter-of-factly.
While the meeting had been called by Jesse and Lucas, they quickly sank back into the couch as their parents’ discussion escalated. Vivian opposed the idea because there was “no future” in dance for them. Professional dancers start much earlier in life, and dedicate a significant part of their lives to the craft. And even if they did, by some miracle, make it to a professional level, dancing careers are usually over by the age of 30. Then what?
Levi felt this was irrelevant. The point was not to become professional dancers, but rather, to learn a discipline—any discipline—from someone who had reached the pinnacle of the craft.
“World-class excellence is something few people achieve,” Levi said. “You can learn a great deal from those that have done so, which can then be applied to many aspects of your life. If the boys have a chance to be trained by these teachers—former principal dancers with Shen Yun—it would be invaluable to building stamina, resilience, confidence, poise. Honestly, the benefits seemed endless, and they could be applied to all aspects of their lives.”
Later reflecting on the divergence of opinion, Levi said he realized his corporate experience informed his perspective on the issue. “At that point, I’d been running a software company for almost 20 years, hiring …and firing staff,” Levi said. “Over all that time, one key thing I learned is that integrity, which usually manifested as ‘soft skills,’ was significantly more important than technical know-how. You can teach pretty much anyone to code, but having employees who are honest, willing to help others, don’t show-boat for the boss, take responsibility for things—these people are priceless. They are the ones you can build an organization around.”
“Finding an educational institution that could help the boys develop these character traits, I felt, was very important.”
Finally, Vivian relented, but not because of Levi’s insistence. As with the move from New Jersey, it came down to one overarching priority: the boys’ education and upbringing. She saw this was something they wanted and were willing to work for.
“And I had to admit they could certainly use the exercise,” she added.
Looking back years later, the Browdes, especially Vivian, identified this one decision as the single most important one they made the boys were at Northern. Embarking on classical Chinese dance literally changed the boys’ lives.
No Blood, but Certainly Sweat and Tears
The boys were pushed physically. They were challenged mentally. They had to learn to work with, and indeed trust the dancers to either side of them while in formation. Not unlike a martial arts dojo, the classical Chinese dance classes also featured disciplinary measures.
Lucas recalled one particularly difficult week during the second semester. The students were not focusing on their dance combinations, and minds were wandering. “That night, our dancer instructor made us write each dance sequence we missed 100 times,” Lucas said. “I was up until 3 a.m.”
And all this on top of a full academic schedule. “We didn’t usually all get home until 7 p.m. or 8 p.m.,” he said. “And that’s when homework started.”
Still, the boys relished their new life. Weeks turned into months, and with the passing of time, there was less and less acknowledgement that they were living a “trial” period. In fact, Levi would have largely forgotten about it were it not for the sizable property tax bill he was still paying for their Jersey home. So, it brought not a little surprise and much relief when Vivian, while sitting at the breakfast table one crisp spring morning, said out-of-the-blue, “We should sell the house.”
Levi froze. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves lest she change her mind.
“OK, makes sense,” he replied nonchalantly, while barely able to contain his excitement.
Vivian got up, placed her bowl in the sink, and quietly walked upstairs. She was not upset, but clearly it was not an easy decision. “She was basically giving up her dream home, her circle of friends… everything in life outside of her immediate family,” Levi said. “I never really pushed the issue because I knew she had to come to this decision herself. She was like Frodo and that Jersey house was the Ring. I knew I couldn’t take it from her. She had to want to let it go herself, and in the end, she did.”
Finally, Levi recalled, the decision was made, and the move was permanent. He felt they were settled, ready to see their boys through high school and beyond in their new school and new home.
Little did Levi or Vivian realize that within just a few months, Jesse, and soon after, Lucas, would make a decision that would yet again, alter the trajectory of all of their lives.
The Browdes prepare for a family dinner at home in 2023. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
An Audacious Attempt
It was a cold winter afternoon. Snow that fell the prior week still lined the driveway. They were late—again.
As the boys huddled in the backseat reluctantly wearing suits, they sat fidgeting with their ties. Levi’s eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror, waiting for Vivian, trying to not get agitated. “What is taking her so long?” The boys smirked, finding some amusement that their father would expect to get an answer to a question he’d been asking thin air for as long as they could remember.
A few minutes later, and a full 30 minutes after she said she would, Vivian emerged from the house.
They were off to New York City’s Lincoln Center to see an opening night performance of Shen Yun Performing Arts. Widely regarded as the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company, Shen Yun showcases authentic Chinese culture “before communism.” The company tours the world each year, covering 200 cities across five continents. The Browde family had seen Shen Yun each year since its inception in 2006.
“Shen Yun is a rich cultural experience that showcases different historical, cultural and spiritual elements of China’s 5,000 year-old civilization,” said Levi. “Each time we see the show, honestly it feels like I’ve just emerged from a spiritual retreat—rejuvenated. Enthused. I just feel like, OK, everything’s going to be fine… better than fine.”
Levi concedes there is an additional element that makes Shen Yun unique.
“Any show that can captivate a 7-year-old and 5-year-old boy for two solid hours is definitely employing magic,” observed Levi. “That’s how old the boys were when we first took them to see the show together. I intentionally bought seats near the exit in case we needed an early out, but that never happened.”
Shen Yun, based in New York state, is the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company. (Courtesy of Shen Yun)
While the brothers had seen the show many times over the years, this year was very different, because it was the first time seeing the show after they themselves began training in classical Chinese dance.
Remembering that night, Jesse said this performance was different than in previous years. “This was the first time I understood the whole show,” said Jesse, “especially the story dances. I almost cried a couple of times that night. I remember going home that night and thinking: I wanted to be a Shen Yun dancer,” he said.
Jesse didn’t say much to his parents at that time, but a spark had been lit.
In early May, tryouts were announced for Fei Tian Academy—an elite performing arts institution that specializes in classical Chinese dance and shares a campus with Shen Yun Performing Arts. Similar to Northern Academy, Fei Tian Academy employed a more traditional approach to education, emphasizing classics, development of moral character, and a strict policy forbidding smartphones and social media on campus. The dance program at Fei Tian, however, was far more rigorous than at Northern Academy, and so admission into Fei Tian would greatly increase a young dancer’s chances of eventually being accepted to Shen Yun.
Jesse made it clear he wanted to try.
The tryouts for Fei Tian were at Shen Yun’s training center and lasted about two hours, and the results were, at least to Levi, not entirely surprising. “The instructors were very sweet and encouraging, but it was clear Jesse did not make the cut,” Levi said. “He was too stiff, and there were some questions as to whether he had the right physique for the rigors of classical Chinese dance. They offered words of encouragement and suggested Jesse keep training, but there was no indication it would lead to a place at Fei Tian Academy.”
On the drive home, Levi studied Jesse’s face. “He was a little disappointed, but not clearly deterred,” Levi said.
Digging Deep
Over the next few weeks, Jesse conferred with his dance teachers to formulate a stretching and strength-training plan that was safe but demanding. Each night, after homework, Jesse would reconfigure the living room to provide the space and support structures needed for his training routines—routines that sometimes were hard to watch, or listen to.
“While he was being safe in his technique, he was really pushing himself,” Levi said. “There were some nights when Vivian would come into my study with a pained expression on her face.”
“I can’t watch this,” she would say as she plopped down on the chair next to his desk, staring at the door.
Reflecting on these sessions, Levi later shared how these stretch routines and workout sessions really tested his parenting resolve to truly parent, instead of “coddle.”
“I believe one of the primary causes of depression and sadness is when people go through life without meaning… without ever finding a place where they belong, a mission they feel is theirs,” he said. “In many cases, this happens because they never build the resolve and drive to overcome barriers to find their ‘thing.’ And this is usually because the parents were too busy coddling them. So, as painful as it was to watch Jesse put himself through this rigorous stretching and training, deep down inside I was at peace because I could see he had found something: a purpose that touched his heart. How could I not do everything to support that?”
To help Jesse along, Levi sought out a retired Shen Yun dancer to see if he might offer additional assistance to Jesse to reach his goal. Lucas asked to participate, and pretty soon, the Browde home living room was transformed into a make-shift dance training space. Each week, the dance trainer would come to the house and work with both boys.
“One thing I loved about this arrangement is that it turned the brothers into training partners,” Levi said. “There were evenings when Vivian and I would be sitting at the kitchen table, and the boys were off in the living room, standing next to each other facing the large windows [to see their reflections] as they walked through dance routines.”
It was just a few months later that Fei Tian Academy offered Jesse another chance to try out. This time, the tryout was quick, and his acceptance almost immediate.
“I can’t say for sure,” Levi said, “but my impression is that it was Jesse’s dedication and heart that garnered his acceptance more than the strides he had made in technique or flexibility, although he had made progress in those areas too.”
The new semester at Fei Tian Academy would not start for another month, so Levi and Vivian pulled both boys out of school for a week, and took off for Los Angeles. “We wanted to celebrate Jesse’s accomplishment,” Levi said, “but we also realized Jesse would be entering a rigorous program. RnR would be rare, so we took this chance to catch a Dodgers game and enjoy some fun in the sun!”
“It was like a last hoorah before Jesse reports to a sort-of boot camp, so we made the most of it.”
Exhausted after a Northern Academy dance recital in 2017, Jesse and Lucas get some well-deserved rest. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
Times That Try Men’s Souls
Cultures around the world, and throughout history, have often adopted rights of passage for their young people. Trials that serve both as a test to determine if the person can serve a productive role in the tribe or society, but also something to help the person realize his or her potential.
“Sometimes it’s hard to imagine yourself doing something difficult…. until you actually do it,” Levi observed. “And that success, far more than any encouragement or coddling, builds confidence and poise.”
Levi felt Jesse’s first few months at an elite classical Chinese dance training academy would serve as his own right of passage. “He had only been training for about two years, and he was going into a program where many there had been training since they were very young,” Levi said. “My sense is that he had a difficult road ahead of him.”
Jesse later confirmed that his father’s suspicions were spot on.
“The first couple of weeks were tough,” said Jesse. “It was obvious that many in my training class not only knew techniques that were beyond me, but they knew… how to dance. Like, with rhythm and bearing [or “yun” in Chinese, a vital element of classical Chinese dance].”
“By comparison, I felt like Dumbo out there,” Jesse said.
As part of his plan to catch up with his class, Jesse would spend extra time in the dance room, mostly working on stretching and flexibility—essential skills of any elite classical Chinese dancer. Sometimes he’d go in before lunch or stay late, continuing some of the rigorous stretching routines that had sent his mother into his father’s study at home so they didn’t have to watch.
Sometime in the first month, Levi got a call from Jesse out of the blue. Levi was just getting out of a luncheon meeting when his cell phone rang. It was Jesse on the line… in tears. “He was stretching and just needed someone to be with him… to help him make it through the full stretch,” Levi said. “So there I was sitting in the parking lot, just listening to my son on the other end of the line sweating it out. We said a few words, but not much…I just sat there on the line with him.”
It was at this point that Levi was mentally preparing for what he thought might be a tough time period as a parent.
“I believe one of the most important balancing acts one performs as a parent is the one between comforter and drill sergeant,” Levi said. “Parents who comfort too much actually hurt their children. I remember hearing Dr. Phil describe it as a form of child abuse because you deprive them of the chance to grow and become strong. And yet, there are also parents who push too much, which can create a whole host of other problems.”
Levi felt this balance was one of the most important tests as a parent.
“It requires that you really purify your own motives. You have to make sure you’re not imposing your own stuff on your kid, whether that’s your own desire to see joy on the kid’s face or your own attachment to what the kid should do or be. You have to get rid of all that…all your own baggage, and just give the kid exactly what he needs for his life,” Levi said.
He felt that in the weeks and perhaps months ahead, he would be tested to see if he could strike the right balance with Jesse. He would perhaps need some support and encouragement, but he may also need some “tough love,” to make sure he did not give up on himself or his own goals.
But Levi was wrong. Another call for help never came.
It would be almost a year before Levi said he fully grasped what had happened: that the educational and training environment at Fei Tian Academy had given Jesse the support, training, and tools he needed to exceed everyone’s expectations, including Levi’s.
Jesse and his mother Vivian enjoy a day off during Jesse’s first year at Fei Tian Academy. (Courtesy of the Browde family)
A Training Environment Like No Other
Nestled in the rolling hills of Orange County, New York is Dragon Springs—a 400-acre campus that combines the natural beauty of the Hudson River Valley with ancient Chinese architecture, performing arts, academic learning, and spiritual practice.
Dragon Springs is a 400-acre campus nestled in the rolling hills of Orange County, New York, that contains a collection of Buddhist-style temples built in the authentic Tang Dynasty tradition, an educational complex that hosts Fei Tian Academy and Fei Tian College, and the professional training center for Shen Yun Performing Arts. (Courtesy of Dragon Springs)
The campus hosts three distinct yet symbiotic entities: a temple grounds featuring a collection of Buddhist-style temples built in the authentic Tang Dynasty tradition, an educational complex that hosts Fei Tian Academy and Fei Tian College, and the professional training center for Shen Yun Performing Arts.
The Academy and College combine a standard academic education with a rigorous performing arts program. Fei Tian students that reach professional standards are invited to join Shen Yun’s annual tour as part of the school’s practicum. Many, upon graduation, are then hired by Shen Yun as professional artists.
“It’s one of the most beautiful campuses I’ve ever seen,” Levi explained. “Every time I take someone to campus for the first time, there’s this one moment when they emerge from the long, winding road through the woods and come to the lake, and see the beautiful temple buildings rising up the slope across the lake. Without fail, everyone says the same thing: ‘wow’.”
“But as beautiful as the campus is, the real treasure of the place is the educational and company culture that pervades both the schools and the Shen Yun company,” Levi said. “I don’t know of any other organization in the world that has so successfully brought together quality education, world-class artistry, and faith into one.”
According to Dr. Tianliang Zhang, a professor at Fei Tian College, this is no accident. “The Buddhist-based spiritual practice of Falun Gong is rooted in traditional Chinese culture, which is the foundation of the environment at Fei Tian and Shen Yun, and really a key element that has propelled Shen Yun to be the world’s premier classical Chinese dance and music company.”
“In traditional Chinese culture there’s this idea that great art—art that really inspires and uplifts—can only be created by people of high integrity,” Professor Zhang said. “That is, the more virtue the artist embodies, the more beautiful and impactful his or her art will be.”
At Fei Tian and Shen Yun, this principle guides every aspect of their training and work. Students and professional artists alike strive to perfect their technique while simultaneously improving their character through the practice of Falun Gong.
“Elevation of one goes hand-in-hand with the other, and this is not just a feel-good concept,” Zhang clarified. “It is an approach that produces some of the best classical Chinese dancers in the world. It is also one of the secret ingredients that makes a Shen Yun performance like no other. Time and time again, audience members remark how the purity of the artists on stage is unlike anything they have ever witnessed, and was a core element to the hope and inspiration they experienced at the show.”
This approach—what some artists affectionately call the “Shen Yun way” —was a revelation for Jesse.
Jesse performs in the Techniques portion of the Ninth NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2021. He received a silver award in the Junior Male Division. (Dai Bing)
“For me, it was like a huge change in my way of thinking and approach to life in general,” Jesse said. “Before coming here, I was a moderately motivated person, at best… I’d never really poured my heart and soul into anything. But here, you are surrounded by people who not only strive for artistic excellence, but believe, deep in their bones, that achievement of that excellence can only really happen when you put yourself, your ego, down. Greatness can only come when you strive to transcend yourself and put others first. That was a game-changer for me.”
And it wasn’t always easy. Levi recalled something Jesse said near the end of his first year at Fei Tian that spoke to the character-building aspect of the education.
“Jesse was at home during his weekly off-campus day, and out of the blue, he turned to me and said, “I wish you had yelled at me more [growing up].”
“For a split second, this took me by surprise,” Levi said, “but very quickly, looking at Jesse’s face, I realized what he was saying. Even in those first few years, he was seeing the importance of taking criticism constructively, and to not get down or take offense when someone tells you how and why you need to improve.”
Reflecting on that question and his progression at Fei Tian, Jesse said: “At some point, I realized how big of a problem ego can be. As you improve as a dancer, you may start to think, ‘Oh, I’m pretty good.’ But having people tell you your problems is one of the few ways you can improve really quickly, so when other people see your problems and they point them out to you—if you don’t accept that, then you are really hampering your own development, and you’re missing a good opportunity to mesh with your troupe. A good, strong, healthy relationship includes honesty, and genuinely wanting each other to improve… even if you have to get in someone’s face about it.”
“My dance troupe is my platoon—my band of brothers,” Jesse said. “They push me to do better, to be better, and together, we are better.”
Less than a year after Jesse was accepted to Fei Tian, his younger brother Lucas was also accepted and joined his brother at the prolific academy.
Like his brother, Lucas found the training environment at Fei Tian transformative. In particular, Lucas said it gave him the support and tools to push through what he describes as his own “weaknesses.”
“In general, before coming to Fei Tian, I think my body was relatively weak and I lacked toughness… especially mental toughness in the face of physical trials,” Lucas said. “In the past, I didn’t see much value in trying to change this, I would just avoid heavy physical activity.”
After coming to Fei Tian and later being invited to join Shen Yun’s tour, however, Lucas said he noticed a big change.
“Not only does this environment push me to expand my limits, but for the first time in my life, I was given a compelling reason to do so,” Lucas said. “I realized that the stronger and more resilient I become, the more expressive and captivating dancer I can be on stage… and the better I do that, the more impact I can have on the audience.”
Lucas said that understanding this connection in a very real and visceral way was the game changer for him.
“For the first time, I would approach physical challenges as an opportunity not just to become stronger and more explosive, but as a tangible way to better touch the hearts of the audience,” Lucas said. “That rationale…that revelation changed everything for me. Fundamentally, pushing myself was not just about me.”
As Lucas delved more deeply into how this revelation impacted his life, it’s clear that, although there was clarity of purpose, there was still a significant effort to push past his perceived physical limitations. Dance training is, after all, very demanding, especially at Fei Tian. Having a clear purpose certainly provided the necessary foundation, but it was one other key ingredient to the “Shen Yun way” that Lucas relied on heavily.
“Always stay positive,” Lucas proclaimed.
“We’re often pushing our own limits as well as what we can achieve as a group,” Lucas said. “That means stumbling and failure come with the territory, so it’s very important to keep a positive attitude at all times. This is so important.”
“What I find really interesting,” added Levi, “is that this educational and company culture stems from the salt-of-the-earth Chinese who founded Shen Yun and the Fei Tian schools in New York. It’s like you have the best of both worlds: a company with the freedom found in America combined with a cultural depth and work ethic endemic to heartland China. That is a powerful combination.”
Lucas Browde received the Gold Award in the Junior Male Division of the NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2021 and 2023. (Dai Bing)
Authentically Chinese, Made in America
Many are surprised to learn that Shen Yun is an American company, and even more so, the tragic reasons as to why.
When communist forces seized power in China in 1949, they spent the next 70 years systematically destroying traditional Chinese culture, and targeting anyone who stood firm to defend it. Throughout this time, violent campaigns targeting different segments of society decimated communities throughout the country.
During the land reform and “counterrevolutionary” campaigns of the early 1950s, 3-5 million people were killed. The disastrous Great Leap Forward from 1959-1962 resulted in the deaths of 30-40 million. The Great Cultural Revolution from 1966-1976 reached such a frenzy that children would beat or even kill parents, teachers, and elders; many turned them in to authorities for torture or public humiliation; 7-8 million died amidst the madness.
In 1989, the world watched as the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) took aim at students protesting in Tiananmen Square, where over a thousand were gunned down or crushed by tanks. In the years that followed, an eerie quiet settled across China as people sought ways to live meaningful lives without provoking the wrath of the regime. It was during this time that qigong practices (aka “Chinese yoga”) began to emerge, offering people a non-confrontational outlet for maintaining health and reconnecting with a semblance of Chinese culture.
In 1992, the Buddhist-based spiritual practice called Falun Gong was first introduced to the public. Over the next several years, it became widely popular across China, both for its health benefits and its spiritual teachings centered on Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance. Yet, when a government survey found there were 70-100 million people practicing, in 1999, the CCP launched yet another campaign: this time targeting Falun Gong.
In the first few weeks, tens of thousands of Falun Gong practitioners were detained, as a brutal, nationwide campaign was launched to “eradicate” the practice. Since that time and continuing to this day, millions have been detained or imprisoned, with hundreds of thousands tortured. Thousands have died from torture and abuse in custody.
According to the 2019 London-based China Tribunal, a “significant number”—possibly hundreds of thousands—have been killed to forcibly remove their organs, a crime reaffirmed by new academic research and targeted by recent legislative efforts around the world.
All the while, vilifying propaganda from the CCP has dominated state-run media in China, and greatly tainted media reports on Falun Gong around the world.
Fleeing persecution, Falun Gong artists looked to America’s shores. But they didn’t just want to build a new life for themselves. They had a larger goal in mind.
“What most people don’t realize is that Falun Gong is authentically Chinese, and much more so than almost anything you can find in China today,” Professor Zhang said. “Falun Gong has roots in China’s traditional culture that stretch back for millennia. In fact, Falun Gong’s popularity in the 1990s itself constituted a spiritual renaissance of sorts… a re-emergence of the wholesome, spiritual traditions of China’s heartland. In trying to ‘eradicate’ Falun Gong, the CCP was in effect, stamping out a resurgence of China’s true culture… it was the CCP’s ‘final solution’ to eradicate traditional Chinese culture itself and fully impose Marxism on the Chinese people.
Shen Yun dancers take time out of their busy rehearsal schedule to do the Falun Gong sitting meditation. (Courtesy of Shen Yun)
“When Shen Yun’s founders landed here in New York, as Falun Gong practitioners and world-class artists, they were uniquely qualified to revive China’s traditional culture and share it with the world… and that’s precisely what they did.
“That’s why, today, Shen Yun represents a renaissance in Chinese culture, but this time, on the world’s stage, and for everyone to enjoy.”
Shen Yun now has eight companies that tour the world simultaneously, performing in more than 200 cities across five continents each season. With innovative digital stagecraft, the world’s first orchestra to feature both classical Chinese and Western instruments as permanent members, and storylines that draw from the tapestry of China’s 5,000-year history, Professor Zhang said, “the company quickly raised the bar on what a group of artists could accomplish.”
While it took some time for Levi to understand the nature of this Shen Yun renaissance, the importance of it—and the opportunity it presented for his boys—was not lost on him. “This is a remarkable group of people engaged in a grand mission… and the boys are right in the middle of it,” Levi said.
A Golden Surprise
During the fall of 2020, Levi was often at home by himself. Vivian had flown to Taiwan for a few months to work and visit family.
“One night I was out on the deck watching the sunset, and my phone started blowing up,” Levi said. “People were sending me ‘congratulations’ and saying stuff like, ‘Oh wow, gold!’ I had no idea what they were talking about.”
Then, the phone rang, and it was Vivian calling from Taiwan. She was also confused.
“I was getting the same messages, and didn’t know what was happening,” Vivian said. Levi said he’d find out and hung up. He finally got ahold of a friend on campus who told Levi the news: the Fei Tian Academy had hosted a competition and both Jesse and Lucas had won gold in the junior category.
“Honestly, at that point, I was even more confused,” Levi said. “Years ago, I was surprised when the boys first wanted to ‘try’ dance. And then, later when they were accepted into Fei Tian Academy, I was just hoping they would like it enough to stay… I never ever thought they might actually get good at it.”
The competition results were not an anomaly.
The following year, both boys participated in the New Tang Dynasty International Dance Competition. Lucas again secured a gold award in the junior division. Jesse received a silver award.
“This was one of the most emotional times for me as a father,” Levi said. “Although they had been studying dance at that point for about five, six years, because of COVID, this was the first time I saw both boys live on stage dancing solo since they had joined Fei Tian Academy, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
“I knew them as stocky, slow baseball players,” recalled Levi, “and what I was seeing on stage was a complete transformation. They were elegant, expressive, captivating… like they had been doing this their whole lives. I was in tears… I just couldn’t believe what they had accomplished in just a few short years.”
The brothers’ success in such a short time period, however, is not unusual for Shen Yun’s training program.
“It normally takes 10 or more years and a grueling schedule for someone to reach a world-class standard,” said Vivian, “which is why I was initially skeptical about the boys starting when they did. But, I have to admit: Fei Tian and Shen Yun proved me wrong.”
According to Levi, the success of Shen Yun’s training program goes beyond just hard work and dedicated staff. “There’s a special sauce to the Shen Yun recipe that no one else has,” Levi said. “Shen Yun’s artistic director has infused the entire program with a foundation and know-how that had been essentially lost to history.” As an example, Levi pointed to the twin techniques of “shen dai shou” (the body leads the hands) and “kua dai tui” (the hips lead the legs). Often cited by international dance competition winners as the key ingredient to their success, Levi said these twin techniques have elevated Shen Yun performance art to a whole new level. “No one was even talking about them, let alone able to do them until Shen Yun burst on the scene,” added Levi.
“The boys were very fortunate to find an institution that could take their heartfelt aspirations and provide a way to make them reality,” Levi said. “They are living their dream.”
Lucas Browde performs “King Gou Jian’s Return” during the Ninth NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2021. (Dai Bing)
A Growing Bond
The changes in the boys during their years at Fei Tian were also evident on the home front, “especially between the two of them,” Levi said. “It was different from when they were younger. They had different personalities so it’s not like they were inseparable,” said Levi.
“I mean, they had baseball in common and played together like brothers do, but as they got older, their differing personalities became more apparent and so there was not a tremendous amount of overlap in interests. And there were plenty of times when they looked at each other, and were both thinking, “Why is he like that—so annoying?”
“I used to worry about it, actually,” admitted Vivian. “I always had this ideal of my boys being best friends, so seeing them not quite that… I worried a little. I wanted to know that no matter what happened in their lives, they would be there for each other.”
Yet, if their boyhood years represented a growing apart, the Fei Tian years were clearly a coming back together.
“When they started spending more time together practicing and talking about dance, I initially thought it was really just a new-found common interest,” said Levi. “However, over the years, it became clear the togetherness transcended their shared dance interest; a close bond had emerged between the two of them.”
Lucas and Jesse at home in upstate New York. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
As the younger brother, Lucas began demonstrating a respectful deference to Jesse. “It became common for Lucas to check with Jesse on which restaurant he wanted to go to, or which movie to see,” Levi said. “And it wasn’t like a burdensome thing… it seemed just more respectful, from the heart. Honestly, I think it was a direct extension of the more traditional environment found at Fei Tian and Shen Yun.”
For Jesse, who typically was more focused on what was in front of him—including not always considering others around him while going about his day—there was a new-found inclusion. “Just little things,” noted Vivian. “In choosing a restaurant or shopping for things online, he’d call Lucas over and they’d pore over the product options and styles together, immersed in joyous banter. In the past, he wouldn’t care very much about his brother’s opinion, nor want to hear it, but now he sought out and genuinely appreciated his brother’s perspective.”
On a recent family vacation, Levi said the strength of their relationship became even more apparent. “Family vacations can sometimes try people’s patience,” said Levi, “especially as different preferences and opinions emerge among family members. But the boys were like two peas in a pod, making plans together, and exploring each region we traveled to like best friends on spring break, which I guess is pretty much what it was. They went everywhere together. Their mother and I just tried to keep up!”
According to Levi, this change is not disconnected with the culture at Fei Tian and Shen Yun.
“Being immersed in a culture that encourages you to put aside ego, and try to think of others’ interests first… that’s going to have ramifications on all your relationships, including with your brother,” Levi said.
The brothers have grown closer to each other ever since they took up dance training. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
One Profound Moment
The artists of Shen Yun believe that a life-changing experience is not predicated upon prolonged time and effort (as in, “medical school changed my life”) nor is it relegated strictly to the religious realm. “Even in a relatively brief moment—during the course of a two-hour show, for example—one’s life can indeed be changed, provided something truly and deeply touched the soul,” Professor Zhang said. “A person’s outlook on life, and consequently his or her approach to life, can be elevated, infused with hope, or driven by a newfound positivity, and therefore, a new direction.”
“Over the years, this is exactly what has happened to many people who experience a Shen Yun performance,” Professor Zhang said.
Upon reviewing hundreds of recorded Shen Yun audience reviews over the years, the trend Professor Zhang described is certainly evident. In fact, this is one of the unique and fascinating aspects of Shen Yun: the substance of what audience members say right after stepping out of the theater. Gushing accolades are certainly not unique to Shen Yun—many performances around the world elicit wholesale praise. What’s fascinating about Shen Yun audiences is how often their comments go much deeper, talking about the performance as “therapy for the soul” and a “life-changing experience.”
All of this is not lost on the performers. In fact, for many, it’s their North Star.
“For many Shen Yun dancers, they usually started because they wanted to be artists, they wanted to dance or play music, or maybe they were just encouraged by their parents,” Lucas said. “As you progress at Shen Yun, however, you gain a more profound appreciation for the culture behind the art. That is, the thousands of years of virtues, and the fascinating stories and art forms that exhibit those virtues for the audience in a tangible way… in a way that makes them worthy of aspiring to.”
“But there’s something else,” Jesse interjected. “As we mature as artists and people, and as we spend more time touring with Shen Yun and seeing the impact on the audience, I think we all get a sense for how impactful the show can be… the possibility that on any given night, the audience can experience something really profound.”
“For us as dancers, I think we all feel a tremendous sense of responsibility to do well,” Jesse continued. “That responsibility can sometimes feel like a burden, but it also infuses our lives with tremendous meaning and purpose. Honestly, I can’t imagine wanting to do anything else.”
Lucas described how sometimes at night, after a long day of training and rehearsals, he crawls into bed, sore and exhausted, “but with a big smile on my face,” said Lucas.
“Dancing with Shen Yun is demanding… sometimes exhausting, and honestly achieving this level of artistry with the whole group as we refine and refine and refine every detail to ensure each piece will touch the audience… it can be frustrating because we all need to be in sync, and even if just one person is off, we need to work together to fix it.”
Lucas added, “To really succeed here as an artist, you’ve got to be willing to not only do your part individually, but ensure you’re helping everyone around you do the same thing. It can be exhausting, but… it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I feel fulfilled, like deep down, truly happy with this opportunity and the journey I’m on with all these great people.”
Lucas performs during the Techniques portion of the NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition. (Dai Bing)
Lucas smiled and then added, “Like Joe DiMaggio famously said: ‘I’d like to thank the Good Lord for making me a… well, not a Yankee, but a Shen Yun dancer!”
From a father’s perspective, Levi said he thinks Jesse and Lucas have found something that is “a great deal more” than just a dance career, and that it couldn’t have come at a more critical time.
“Honestly, I think there’s an epidemic in parenting and education across the country that inhibits young people from learning to grow, succeed, and lead rewarding lives,” said Levi.
“The sky-rocketing rates of depression and a whole host of other problems that are so prevalent in schools and universities across the country are the result. People need to develop a certain level of resilience so they overcome obstacles in life, and more importantly, they need to have a reason to do so. They need to find meaning for their lives that is wholesome and connected, in some way, with time-tested, universal values. Without this level of meaning, it’s easy to become bitter or lost.”
And the antidote to this epidemic?
“It’s Fei Tian and Shen Yun, without a doubt,” Levi said. “Actually, I’ve encouraged them [Shen Yun] to open up academies across the country. They really have a special recipe for developing young people. I always thought it would be great if more young people had a chance to become part of this. It would certainly give me more hope for the future of their generation, and the future in general.”
Jesse performs “Loyalty Amidst Corruption” during the Ninth NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2021. Jesse received a silver award in the Junior Male Division. (Dai Bing)
All the World’s Their Stage
Vivian was excited. She’d never been to Prague before, and for this trip, they had a surprise.
For the past few years, Jesse and Lucas have toured with Shen Yun as part of their practicum at Fei Tian. This year, their troupe was opening the season with shows in Germany, Poland, and France.
“Vivian had always wanted to see Prague, and that is driving distance to Berlin so we decided to see some of Europe and surprise the boys in Berlin,” Levi said.
They landed in Prague on a crisp winter day, and found their way to their hotel nestled on the banks of the Vltava River that divides the old city. They explored the Charles Bridge, took in the famed Christmas markets, and even enjoyed one of the many chamber music concerts offered every night around the city during the holidays.
Two days later, they were in Berlin, at the Theater am Potsdamer Platz. Levi had bought tickets on the balcony so they wouldn’t be spotted. “We didn’t tell the boys or anyone we were coming,” he said.
After the performance, Levi and Vivian made their way to the side of the theater. There were some picnic tables near the performers’ entrance alongside a fountain. Small restaurants lined the small plaza. As the dancers and musicians emerged from the theater, Levi and Vivian kept their heads down.
Finally, Jesse emerged, and both his parents jumped up, “Bravo!” Jesse stared at them, the “Wha…?” not fully formed out of his mouth. They hugged and talked about their travels in Prague and up through Germany. Other members of the troupe stopped to say hello and chat. Lucas, the last of the performers to emerge, walked over to see what the commotion was.
Then, just as quickly as the crowd converged, it dispersed. The bus was waiting to take the troupe back to their hotel. Levi and Vivian said their goodbyes and watched their boys board the bus and drive away.
Curtain call at a Shen Yun Performing Arts performance. (Courtesy of Shen Yun)(Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
After Berlin, their troupe had two more performances in Germany before going to Poland, and then France. They would start in Paris, and then work their way south performing in cities along the French Riviera. Then, one stop in Spain before flying back to the U.S. for shows later in the spring throughout the northeastern U.S.
Turning to Vivian, Levi said that both boys, in their young lives, have been to more cities and countries than he has in his entire life. “And they’re just getting started,” Vivian responded with a beaming smile.
Levi watched the bus fade into the Berlin night. He looked at Vivian and said “I need a minute.” Levi walked over to the fountain and began to cry.
Reflecting on the moment later, Levi said, “I was thinking about the journey we had all been on, and more specifically reflecting on my journey as a parent.”
“Honestly, I’ve had concerns about my parenting from the very beginning. Looking back, I can see so many times when I could have and should have done better as a parent. But that night in Berlin, as I watched them board the bus, I could see clearly what they have become, the life that Shen Yun has given them, and all my doubts and worries faded away.”
Levi paused for a moment, searching for the right words: “In a way, I feel like we’ve raised these boys together with Shen Yun: my wife and I gave them a foundation, but Shen Yun gave them direction and wings to soar, and for that, we’re eternally grateful.”
I’m not sure why I react as I do, but when I hear our national anthem and see our Stars and Stripes raised high, I tear up. I always have; I always will.
I think of moments in the past when our flag has particularly moved me. 9/11—the first responders raising a tattered flag over the smoking remains of the Twin Towers, a flag symbolizing “United We Stand.” Or the photo of a sweet little girl poised atop her daddy’s shoulders, looking to the heavens, clutching a tiny flag in her hand. I have seen too many flag-draped caskets cradling the remains of our brave soldiers and first responders who gave their precious lives for our country. And the entire landscape at Arlington National Cemetery is draped with the red, white, and blue of our heroes who fought to protect the sovereignty of our land.
But I add to these the happy times and happy tears.
As retirees in 2000, my husband and I were hired as staff members on a Semester at Sea study-abroad program. We joined 700 college students on a four-month voyage around the world on a beautiful ship, the MV Explorer. As we set sail out of Coal Harbor in Vancouver, families and friends waved our beautiful flag from the shore in Stanley Park, bidding us farewell. I thought four months would pass before we would see Old Glory again. But I was mistaken. American flags greeted us in our first port, Kobe, Japan, as Japanese beauties waved them in welcome. And, reminding us of our influence abroad, our flags graced the entrances of the U.S. embassies we passed by during our sojourn in 13 countries. Then, months later in Havana, Cuba, our final port, I was once again moved to patriotic tears.
Thinking that a sporting event might encourage camaraderie and serve as an icebreaker between our students and theirs, Semester at Sea staff and the athletic director at the University of Havana organized a basketball game pitting our students against the university’s varsity team. When we entered the gymnasium, we found our opponent’s team in full uniform, standing in solemn attention. Suddenly, a Cuban student marched in, proudly waving our Stars and Stripes, our national anthem resounding throughout the stadium. Everyone, Cubans and Americans together, stood in quiet respect. Here I am, in the heart of communist Cuba, moved to tears by our flag and the glorious music of our country.
Years pass, and we have built a beach house adjacent to a naval base in California. Every morning at 8 a.m., our national anthem resounds over their loudspeakers. Our little granddaughter Mia visits often, and we open the patio door and call her over. Since my husband, her “Papa,” is the quintessential flag waver, we tell her that “Papa’s song” is playing, and “when we hear it, we put our hands on our hearts, we stand still, and we listen.” She follows our lead, placing her hand on her chest, standing at attention. When the anthem ends, we all clap and cheer.
Years later, on a shopping trip to our local Costco Warehouse, Mia is seated in the cart, holding the bouquet of white roses we’ve selected. We pass a display of speakers emitting a patriotic tune. It’s not our national anthem, but for her, it’s close enough. She calls out to me. “Nai Nai! Stop!” Transferring the roses to her left hand, she places her right hand on her chest. “Nai Nai! Hand!” she exclaims. “Papa’s song!” So there we stand, in the middle of a crowded aisle, hands over our hearts, as our little girl attempts to sing along to a random song with the few words of her “Papa’s song” that she remembers.
No—it wasn’t quite the same as stealth bombers flying over the Super Bowl following the playing of our national anthem. It wasn’t quite the moment in the gymnasium in Havana, Cuba. It wasn’t quite the moment of seeing Old Glory hoisted up the flagpole and hearing our country’s anthem blasting on the MV Explorer as we pulled into the Port of New Orleans that December of 2000 after our four-month voyage around the world. But it was a precious moment—one not without a tear.
Now that she’s older, my sweet Mia is beginning to understand the real meaning of “Papa’s song.” As American author Henry James said, “I think patriotism is like charity. It begins at home.” I’m confident that throughout her life, whenever Mia sings “the land of the free and the home of the brave,” she will reflect on when, how, and why she learned to stand at attention to honor our flag and our country.
Victor Gillam's 1896 political cartoon, Uncle Sam stands with rifles between the Europeans and Latin Americans. (Public Domain)
Though James Monroe is hardly the most memorable president, his foreign policy doctrine known as the Monroe Doctrine is without question the most lasting. Sean Mirski, in his new book “We May Dominate the World: Ambition, Anxiety, and the Rise of the American Colossus,” discusses just how the Monroe Doctrine was formulated, implemented, altered, and manipulated to transform the Western Hemisphere into a quasi-American protectorate.
The Monroe Doctrine may have been the foundation for America’s diplomatic and, at times, less than diplomatic foreign policy decisions, but as Mr. Mirski makes abundantly clear in his book, there were other foundational principles at play. The law of unintended consequences seems to be the bane of many of America’s diplomatic good intentions. These consequences were the result of America’s limited options, most of which were less than favorable. The author demonstrates how policies throughout various administrations, especially during the post-Civil War and early 20th century era, came to fruition out of sheer necessity. Those necessities arose out of fear and anxiety during a time of growing and fading empires, like the British, French, German, Spanish, and Japanese. Along with those Eastern Hemispheric empires, America found herself establishing her own in the Western Hemisphere by either conquest, happenstance, or the aforementioned necessity.
President James Monroe. (Public Domain)
The Doctrine Tested
At the tail end of 1823, when Monroe addressed Congress in what would be coined the Monroe Doctrine, he advocated for remaining unentangled in European affairs (a reflection of George Washington’s 1796 farewell address), refraining from colonizing, and resisting the temptation to intervene in the affairs of other countries, unless of course the affair was an attempt by a European power to establish a foothold, by either governmental or corporate means, in the Western Hemisphere. These noble aspirations, as with all noble aspirations, are much easier to conceive than uphold.
As colonies throughout Latin America erupted with independence movements, revolving revolutions, and intrastate wars during the 19th and 20th centuries, this doctrine would be tested to the extremes, often resulting in unforeseen, or more appropriately, unintended consequences. In the book we are introduced to great and not-so-great diplomatic thinkers, like William Seward, James Blaine, Richard Olney, Elihu Root, Philander Knox, Robert Lansing, and Sumner Welles; varied foreign policies, like “masterly inactivity,” “reciprocity,” “Dollar Diplomacy,” “moral diplomacy,” and the “Good Neighbor Policy;” and geopolitical altering events like the annexation of Hawaii, the Spanish–American War, the Panama Canal, and World War I.
President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill seated on the quarterdeck of HMS Prubce of Wales during the Atlantic Conference, 10 August 1941. (Public Domain)
One of Mr. Mirski’s successes (among the many in his book) is his argument that America typically made its decisions based on national security interests, and not based on the notion of conquest and empire, or even economics. Indeed, it often came down to the aforementioned fear and anxiety that if America did not annex or intervene, one of the swarming imperial powers would.
A Problem at Every Turn
Readers of this review should not take this as Mr. Mirski writing an apologetic. “We May Dominate the World” is not revisionist history. Rather, it is a correction on much of the propagandistic history that has been issued over the decades by talking-heads rather than researching-brains. Mr. Mirski has, instead, taken the difficult route of demonstrating that foreign policy is a difficult science―far more difficult than we credit it.
While many historians and political scientists choose a singular politician and his or her foreign policy, say a Theodore Roosevelt or a Woodrow Wilson, or a particular motivation, like racism, colonialism, culture, or economics, Mr. Mirski shows that American foreign policy has always been a multi-faceted arrangement of motivating factors, decisions, actions, regrets, and the continued cycle of such an arrangement. The author’s work proves that no matter how powerful a nation is, it cannot control the world; it can only try and fail.
Those failures ironically stemmed from attempts to stabilize newly independent countries or nations laden with incessant and violent revolutions. Unfortunately, these attempts often “created perverse incentives” for further revolutions in order to initiate American military intervention (such as the Platt Amendment with Cuba).
The Logical Result
The failure of American diplomacy in the region seemed to hit a fever pitch deep into the Wilson administration. As Mr. Mirski notes, “By the end of the Wilson administration, the United States had boxed itself into the ultimate catch-22: any leader who cooperated with the United States, lost the domestic legitimacy needed to govern, but without the United States’ support, no leader could hold onto power. In the most extreme cases, the logical result was direct American rule.”
The Atlantic Charter. National Archives and Records Administration. (Public Domain)
The logic behind America’s growing power seemed evident to Roosevelt well before Wilson’s term in office, when he stated during his 1904 State of the Union address that the Monroe Doctrine, if strictly adhered to, would force America into an “international police power.” By the middle of the 20th century, America had taken all of its experience―successful and otherwise―and expanded the regional doctrine internationally.
“After the war the United States scaled up its regional policies and institutions to create the new international order,” Mr. Mirski writes. “It is no coincidence that the Atlantic Charter―FDR and Winston Churchill’s celebrated blueprint for the postwar world―was drafted in large part by Welles, the State Department’s preeminent Latin American expert. Welles also drafted the United Nations Charter, a document that reflects Welles’s Latin American experience through and through.”
Mind Your Own Business
This book proves the difficulty of minding your own business, especially when it appears that doing so will only make matters worse. But as the author points out, more often than not, America did try to mind its own business.
“Officials in Washington had no premeditated plan to reduce the whole region to vassal status,” Mr. Mirski states. “As impressive as the number of American interventions is, the more revealing figure is the far greater number of times that Washington declined its neighbors’ invitations to send troops, annex territory, or establish protectorates. For all its interventionism, Washington proved remarkably reluctant to take advantage of opportunities to extend its regional control.”
This statement will no doubt be the ire of some who believe that there was always a plan for domination and to keep the weaker Latin nations under America’s thumb. Cynicism has long been the order of the day, and any statement, much less a book, contrary to that belief cannot possibly be true. But if truth is actually the pursuit, then Mr. Mirski’s work should be at the very top of the reading list for foreign policy hawks, history buffs, and young people going to college. No doubt the latter will encounter the onslaught of academics who profess to have the market cornered on American foreign policy—but are typically mere subscribers to the aforementioned propagandistic history.
“We May Dominate the World: Ambition, Anxiety, and the Rise of the American Colossus” by Sean A. Mirski. (Public Affairs)
Don’t Oversimplify
Mr. Mirski speaks to this issue of oversimplifying the history of foreign policy. “Observers often see international politics as a clash between good and evil. Sometimes it is,” he writes. “But more often than not, international politics takes place in a gray world under gray skies, where every decision requires trade-offs and difficult choices, where legitimate ends pursued rationally still lead to unsavory destinations, and where tragedy is all but inescapable. Tales pitting good against evil appeal to the human desire for moral certainty, but they are often poor vehicles for understanding the choices nations face.”
“We May Dominate the World” thoroughly demonstrates just how gray that world is and just how inescapable the consequences of good intentions are. As the author notes, this is “the tragedy of great-power politics.”
Mr. Mirski has proven himself to be a researcher and a writer of exceptional talent. My expectations for his future works are now practically limitless. “We May Dominate the World” is an absorbing read and is quite possibly my favorite selection of 2023.
Sean Mirsci, author of “We May Dominate the World: Ambition, Anxiety, and the Rise of the American Colossus.” (Public Affairs)
‘We May Dominate the World: Ambition, Anxiety, and the Rise of the American Colossus’
By Sean A. Mirski
PublicAffairs, June 27, 2023
Hardcover: 512 pages
Sean A. Mirski is a lawyer and U.S. foreign policy scholar who has written extensively on American history, international relations, law, and politics. He graduated from Harvard Law School and holds a master’s degree in international relations from the University of Chicago.
Mark Twain’s Gothic
Revival house—
from the exterior
painted bricks,
exuberant gables,
and tiled roof to the
elaborate interior
decorations—
made a definitive
statement about his
burgeoning literary
career at the time. (Mark Twain House)
The Mark Twain House & Museum resides befittingly in Hartford, Connecticut, in the charming, historic neighborhood of Nook Farm, once a thriving artistic community. The lovingly preserved home of America’s humorist was built in an American Gothic Revival style in 1874 and was lived in by Twain and his family until 1891. The mansion was intended to make a statement about its owner and his burgeoning literary career. Its whimsy, elegance, and extravagance—from exterior painted bricks, exuberant gables, and tiled roof, to the elaborate interior decorations—made a definitive statement in the 19th century. Indeed, the Gilded Age look of Twain’s home, with its layered, maximalist design of furnishings, textiles, and patterns, is once again in vogue.
Mark Twain, born Samuel Clemens (1835–1910), was a man of many talents and many jobs. In his life, he worked as a riverboat pilot, silver prospector, newspaper reporter, adventurer, satirist, lecturer, and author of iconic American books. His years spent in this Hartford home were the happiest and most productive of his life, and he called it “the loveliest home that ever was.” While living here, he wrote his classic novels “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,” “The Prince and the Pauper,” and “A Connecticut in Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.”
Twain by the riverside, photographed by Benjamin J. Falk, circa late 19th century. (Public domain)
Twain and his wife Olivia commissioned the New York architect Edward Tuckerman Potter, a specialist in ecclesiastical design and High Victorian Gothic style, to build their dream home. Twain was then primarily known for his travel writings and a novel that lampooned high society, yet the 25-room house announced intentionally his entrée into that very society. Measuring 11,500 square feet distributed over three floors, it epitomized a modern home of the time, with central heating, gas lighting fixtures, and hot and cold running water. As the building costs were substantial, with the couple spending between $40,000 and $45,000 on the construction, the interiors were initially kept simple.
The house was used for delightful dinner parties, billiard games, charity events, and the raising of three daughters. In 1881, Twain’s growing international fame and success enabled the couple to renovate the home’s interiors in a grand and artistic manner. They engaged the fashionable design firm Louis C. Tiffany & Co.‚ Associated Artists, known for its globally inspired interiors. Like Twain, Louis C. Tiffany was a creative genius and extensive world traveler, and he explored nearly every artistic and decorative medium. He was highly skilled in designing and overseeing his studios’ production of leaded-glass windows and lighting fixtures—for which he is best known today—as well as mosaics, pottery, enamels, jewelry, metalwork, painting, drawing, and interiors. In the same year that the firm embarked on the Twain house project, it was also hired to redecorate the state rooms of the White House. Interestingly, today, it is the Mark Twain House that is considered the most important existing and publicly accessible example of the design firm’s work.
The billiard room served as Twain’s office and study, where he wrote some of his most famous works, including “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” and “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” (Mark Twain House)
The couple signed a $5,000 agreement giving Tiffany and his associate designers carte blanche in implementing a decorating scheme. The design work included the walls and ceilings for the newly expanded front hall, the library, the dining room, the drawing room, and the first-floor guest room, along with the second- and third-floor walls and ceilings visible from the front hall.
Louis C. Tiffany & Co.‚ Associated Artists’ cohesive decoration of the first-floor rooms is inspired by evocative motifs from Morocco‚ India‚ Japan‚ China, and Turkey. The entrance hall, carved with ornamental detail when the house was first built, had its wainscoting stenciled in silver with a starburst pattern and its walls and ceiling painted red with black and silver patterns. In the house’s gaslight, the silver paint would have flickered and given the exotic illusion of mother-of-pearl. The drawing room was given a base color of salmon pink, and Indian-inspired bells and paisley swirls were stenciled in silver. Today, one can still view a large pier glass mirror, a wedding gift to the Twains, as well as the family’s tufted furniture.
Decorated by Louis C. Tiffany & Co., Associated Artists, the house has an entrance hall that is kept dim to mimic gas lighting. The iridescent stenciling, accented by wooden moldings, gives the room the feeling of a Persian palace. (Mark Twain House)
The dining room, used by the family for almost all of its meals whether informal or formal, was covered in a deep burgundy and gold-colored wallpaper in a pattern of Japanese style flowers. The paper’s pattern was embossed to give the impression of luxurious tooled leather. Its subject is typical of the work of Candace Wheeler, a partner in Associated Artists renowned for her textile and interior designs. Her honeycomb wallpaper enlivens the home’s best guest suite, known as the Mahogany Room.
The dining room wallpaper features heavily embossed paper, simulating the texture and color of tooled leather. (Mark Twain House)
Green and blue were frequent colors used in libraries at the time, and this house’s library is in a peacock blue. Its mantel, a large oak piece purchased from Scotland’s Ayton Castle, is the focal point of the room. Twain used the space to orate excerpts from his latest works, recite poetry, and tell stories to friends and family. In addition, Twain would entertain his daughters with fanciful tales using the decorative items on the mantelpiece as inspiration.
The family’s private rooms were beautifully decorated, too, and have been restored to their former glory by the museum. The nursery has delightful Walter Crane wallpaper that recounts the nursery rhyme “Ye Frog He Would A-Wooing Go” in words and pictures. Crane was an English artist considered to be one of the most influential children’s book illustrators of his generation; he created decorative arts in his distinctive detailed and colorful style. The bedroom of Twain and his wife was dominated by a large bed with elaborately carved angels that they had purchased in Venice. Twain’s only surviving daughter donated the piece to the museum, where it continues to be displayed. The third-floor billiard room is perhaps the most meaningful to fans of Twain’s writings, for it served as his writing office and study. When editing, he would lay out the pages of his manuscript on the billiard table.
The library, which opens up to a conservatory, was the main attraction for visitors. The statue of Eve was sculpted by Karl Gerhardt, a family friend and protégé of Twain. (Mark Twain House)This Fischer upright piano was given to Mark Twain’s daughters as a Christmas gift in 1880. Known as the school room, this room was the primary space where the three girls were homeschooled from 1880 to 1891. (Mark Twain House)
Financial difficulties resulted in Twain and his family moving to Europe in 1891, and they never again lived in the home or even Hartford. They sold the property in 1903. Tiffany stained glass windows made for the home were sold separately, and their current whereabouts are unknown. The house went through different ownership and was, for a time, a school for boys before being sold to a developer who planned to demolish the house and turn it into an apartment building. A campaign was mounted to save the home, and, eventually, it was purchased by a group devoted to preserving its legacy.
The Mark Twain House & Museum, a National Historic Landmark, is considered one of the best historic house museums. Twain wrote in a letter that “our house was not unsentient matter—it had a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with. … We were in its confidence, and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benediction.” Fortunately, the home’s meticulous restoration and vibrant educational programming provides a window into its unique history and an opportunity to admire its timeless beauty.
The drawing room was the place for formal hospitality, where Twain’s daughters performed for guests. (Mark Twain House)Although the Steinway piano and the “Holy Family” painting by Andrea del Sarto were not original to the house, the Clemenses were known to have purchased objects like these on their European trips. (Mark Twain House)
Fun Facts
Mark Twain incorporated autobiographical events in his novels “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” and “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” The character of Finn, the beloved vagrant sidekick to Sawyer, was modeled off a boy he knew from childhood.
In his autobiography, Twain wrote, “In Huckleberry Finn I have drawn Tom Blankenship exactly as he was. He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had. His liberties were totally unrestricted. He was the only really independent person—boy or man—in the community, and by consequence he was tranquilly and continuously happy and envied by the rest of us.”
(From L to R) Adam, Lillian, and Katherine Parker are unexpected ambassadors for a millennia-old Chinese art form. (Samira Bouaou)
A “white Mulan?” That’s weird, they bluntly told her.
Katherine Parker, an award-winning dancer with Shen Yun Performing Arts, the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company, recalled the first time that she portrayed a historical figure in a dance. For a local competition, she wanted to tell the story of Hua Mulan, the courageous heroine of one of ancient China’s best-known legends. Despite her reservations, she decided to press on.
As the legend goes, Mulan disguises herself as a man to go to war in place of her elderly father—thereby saving his life. By imperial decree, one man from every family had to serve.
She fights for 12 years on the frontlines. The dance meant to capture her thrilling moments on the battlefield—but more than that, to tap into an internal struggle. The fast-paced battle music gives way to a slower melody, and the audience gets a glimpse of Mulan’s thoughts.
“Throughout the piece, Mulan is simultaneously waging an inner battle,” Katherine explained. “She longs to return home to her father, but she must remain where she is and fight in a bloody war. The irony of her predicament is that she wishes to take care of her father more than anything, but for his sake, she cannot return to him. I feel this dance highlights Mulan’s filial piety and selflessness.”
Katherine does the “kong hou tui” move, which requires holding the back leg high. (Samira Bouaou)
Katherine knew that capturing that emotional complexity was crucial to the success of her performance.
“I generally tend to hold back, and automatically close myself off a bit when standing in front of an audience. Often, I doubt myself,” she said. “And the moment I hesitate, the performance falls to pieces, because I am no longer in character—I am just being my old self.”
To prepare, she repeatedly listened to the music in her free time.
“I would sit there with my eyes closed and visualize Mulan’s story playing out in my mind, in sync with the music. I would imagine the battlefield, the war cries, and the hoof beats of galloping horses. When the softer, sadder music began, I would focus more on Mulan’s emotions and the heart-wrenching sorrow of being separated from her father.”
The dance was a success: She won gold.
The following year, her growth became apparent on a grander stage. At NTD’s 10th International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2023, she portrayed another great Chinese heroine, Lady Wang Zhaojun, who chose to marry the leader of a northern nomadic tribe to prevent war, leaving behind her beloved homeland and family in an act of selfless sacrifice. For her moving performance, Katherine took home a silver medal.
Katherine won a silver medal in the junior division at the International Classical Chinese Dance Competition in 2023 for her dance piece portraying Wang Zhaojun, a historical figure in ancient China who married the leader of a nomadic tribe in order to prevent war from breaking out. (Larry Dye)
On the same stage that year, her older sister, Lillian, and younger brother, Adam, won silver and gold in their respective divisions.
The secret to their triple win? The siblings point to years of honing not only their craft but also their moral character—the true key, they say, to artistic excellence of the highest level and a core tenet of this millennia-old art form.
Based in upstate New York, Shen Yun was established with a mission to revive 5,000 years of true, traditional Chinese culture, a glorious heritage that was nearly destroyed under communist rule. The company’s eight troupes tour internationally each year, and its elite performers hail from around the world—from America, Europe, Asia, and Australia.
It’s a distinctly Chinese art form, but one that has resonated with people from all walks of life. Whether it be a daughter’s devotion to her father or a patriot’s sacrifice for country, the values portrayed are universal; its power to connect transcends boundaries.
“Dance is a language without words,” Lillian said.
Foundations of Family and Faith
A uniquely expressive art form, with roots tracing back to martial arts and Chinese opera and theater, classical Chinese dance has the power to depict an endless spectrum of stories and emotions. The Parker siblings were captivated by it from a young age.
Growing up in multicultural Toronto, Canada, their family made a tradition of seeing Shen Yun when it came to their city each year.
“We would all get dressed up, and we’d be bouncing in our seats, waiting for the show to start, so excited,” Katherine recalled. “When the curtain opens, it’s just magnificent. It blew our tiny little minds.”
Their parents, Andrew and Christine Parker, signed them up for classical Chinese dance classes when Lillian was 6, Katherine 4 1/2, and Adam 3.
“They had an interest in cultural dance, and they just loved it,” Andrew said.
Such early immersion in the arts was part of his and his wife’s vision to “have a traditional lifestyle for the children,” Andrew said.
“We wanted to fill them with as many wholesome and positive things that we could,” he said.
They sought out traditional values from different cultures, finding inspiration in the moral foundations of both Western and Chinese civilization, what “people in the past used to think of as virtuous, or good.”
“Honor, integrity, loyalty, honesty, good old-fashioned hard work, kindness—these were the things that we wanted to pass on to the children. These are what people traditionally refer to as the God-given values, or maybe in Chinese culture, they’d say the divinely bestowed values,” he said. “I believe [these values] are what actually make people feel whole and feel good on the inside, not necessarily the modern values that are promoted nowadays.”
An avid student of the classical art of storytelling, Andrew regaled them with tales, one of Adam’s most vivid childhood memories.
“Some parents might tell their kids stories to entertain them, but whenever [my dad] tells a story, there’s always a moral behind it,” Adam said.
The whole family enjoyed music, so Andrew would often set his story to a tune—such as one of the “Star Wars” soundtracks—describing the action of a scene as it unfolded to the score. (“He watched the movies so many times, he memorized all the scenes,” Lillian explained.)
Looking back, Lillian realized how that helped set an early foundation for her dancing career.
“We’re hearing the storytelling, and the moral of the story, but at the same time, connecting with the emotions in the music … how the music is bringing out the emotion. Now, whenever I listen to music, I’m automatically thinking of dance moves, or a story or a character starts forming,” Lillian said.
Like their parents, the Parker siblings practice the Chinese spiritual discipline of Falun Dafa. Based on the principles of truthfulness, compassion, and tolerance, with an emphasis on refining moral character, the practice fostered a harmonious family life—and set the foundation for a sort of rectitude and grit that would continue to drive the siblings beyond childhood.
“It’s like the root—it shaped us a lot,” Lillian said.
At home, the siblings nurtured rich, creative lives, too. Aside from the occasional family movie night, their parents kept a screen-free house—no TV, no video games. As a result, the kids were naturally drawn to books, the arts, and other creative activities to fill their time.
“I’m grateful to our parents for that,” Katherine reflected. “A lot of kids are in their own box with this technology, and it can really suck you in. Staying separate from that, we could learn.”
They devoured books, from “The Lord of the Rings” and “The Chronicles of Narnia” to Nancy Drew and ”The Hardy Boys.” Lillian, an aspiring novelist, wrote stories of her own. They created their own clubs and crafted mailboxes out of cereal boxes to leave at each other’s doors.
Most memorably, they put on an annual Christmas show for a captive audience of parents, grandparents, and stuffed animals, complete with original dance choreography, music, lighting, costumes, tickets, a security guard (5-year-old Adam), and a rotating emcee. It was influenced, no doubt, by the format of a Shen Yun performance.
So while the Parkers had no expectations for their children to pursue Chinese dance professionally, it hardly came as a surprise when they did. When Lillian was 12, after watching the annual Shen Yun performance, there came an opportunity to audition for Fei Tian Academy of the Arts, which teaches classical Chinese dance, the primary art form of Shen Yun. She decided to try out, especially moved by how Shen Yun uses the art form to tell an important story on stage: the modern-day plight of her fellow Falun Dafa adherents in China amidst the brutal persecution of the faith by the ruling communist regime since 1999. Exposing the persecution is something that “no other performing arts companies are doing,” she said, “and that’s very meaningful. That’s not an opportunity you can find elsewhere.”
The family relocated to New York to support Lilian’s studies, and one by one, Katherine and Adam followed in their sister’s footsteps.
“[Lillian] auditioned at the school and got in, and then [Katherine] did too,” Adam said, so the next step was only natural. “I mean, I had to try out,” he said, smiling. “Everything was preparing me for that moment.”
Dancing in Chinese
Still, they were unprepared for other aspects, such as the rigors of classical dance training—with challenges understanding what their Chinese-speaking dance teachers were saying.
Learning the language was just the beginning; trickier was parsing the hidden layers of meaning beneath the surface, due to cultural differences in communication styles and etiquette.
“Westerners are very direct—what I say, that’s what I mean,” Lillian said. Chinese people, on the other hand, place value on self-restraint and thus “always hold something back.”
The differences spill over into the language of dance. She’s been told by dance teachers that her movements often look “very frank, very ‘Ba-bam! I’m here!’” she said. Classical Chinese dance, however, calls for a sort of restraint, a tension behind each move, a unique feeling built into the principles that underlie and define the art form. A hero character striking a pose facing the audience, for instance, would never hold his shoulders and hips square and stiff, but instead perhaps twist an opposite shoulder and hip toward one another, in a more dynamic stance. Or take the movement of bringing an arm up and over one’s head: Rather than straight and rigid, the movement would be rounded and pulled back at the edges, as if painting a rainbow with a brush, following the art form’s emphasis on roundness.
“Every part of your body [has] that feeling, … to the point where it’s a look in your eyes,” Lillian said. “That’s what draws in an audience.”
They often lean on each other for support: At weekly “Parker Council” meetings, they swap videos of their practice sessions and advice for improvement. They found that they not only think and feel similarly, but also hit similar roadblocks in dance. One sibling could thus help another translate confusing feedback from a teacher, as Katherine put it with a smile, “into Parker language.”
Adam performs one of the many technically difficult flips found in classical Chinese dance. (Samira Bouaou)
Universal Values
A crucial component of their training takes place outside the dance studio, in the classroom: Students at Fei Tian study, among other subjects, Chinese history, its rich repertoire of stories and legends, to understand the values that form the foundation of the culture—and inform every movement of the art form. The Parkers found the same universal virtues they’d grown up with in Western culture—faith, loyalty, integrity, kindness—but embedded at a deeper level.
“China’s had 5,000 years for those values to sink into the Chinese people’s hearts,” Adam said.
To be able to experience and take part in reviving such a rich heritage is “just so precious,” Katherine said. What struck her most was how firmly so many figures in Chinese history held to their moral convictions.
“They’re going to do the thing that they believe is right, no matter what the consequences are. It’s part of who they are, so they will give up everything for it—even their life. And it wasn’t just one or two people, but the society as a whole,” she said.
On stage, they channel these ancient figures—whether a palace maiden, an imperial scholar, or Mulan on the battlefield.
“One of the biggest changes for me as an artist was acquiring the ability to really get into character and feel whatever the character would be feeling,” Adam said. “There’s a saying we use in dance: ‘To move the audience, you have to first move yourself.’”
Imbuing every movement with genuine emotion, “the audience will actually be able to feel it, even if they’re really far away,” he said.
Being able to convey these values to the audience is key to capturing the essence of classical Chinese dance. Beyond the demanding technical skill required, to truly be a great dancer, “you have to be a good person,” Lillian said. “And then, you have to want to express or share those values through dance.”
Training in Chinese dance, like all the classical arts, inherently shapes dancers into better people, she pointed out, building self-discipline and the ability to persevere through physical and mental hardship. Maintaining the right mindset over the long run, always striving to be better without being discouraged, is one of the hardest parts, Lillian said.
A teacher once gave her a piece of advice that stuck with her: “Don’t be afraid of not being good. Just be afraid of not improving.” She resolved to focus on her potential to improve, on how much better she could get every day, “instead of being afraid of making mistakes.” She reminds herself: “Everything that’s hard is the root of something that will be great later—this is something that is going to make me into a better person or a better dancer. You see it as what it actually is—a tool to help you grow, even though it’s hard to go through.”
The siblings have also internalized lessons from the historical characters they’ve studied and portrayed. After they started their dance training, their father noticed profound changes in their character—most notably, that they had all grown more selfless.
“They’ve truly benefited from these traditional values and ancient virtues from Chinese culture,” Andrew said, “and because they’ve benefited from it so much, they truly have a sincere wish to share it with others. I think this is one of the main reasons why they can work so hard. … It requires a very noble spirit and a very pure heart; otherwise, you just can’t endure that much rigorous work.”
Lillian sees their art as having a higher purpose.
“Aristotle believed that one of the reasons people should learn music is to upgrade their moral values. By listening to good music, you’re learning how to enjoy something that is noble and something that is upright, and therefore, you are making yourself a better person,” she said.
Dance, she says, is the same.
“You should be giving out upright energy; the message you’re sending to the audience should be a positive, upright message,” she said.
She hopes audience members leave feeling uplifted and inspired to strive for goodness.
For Katherine, it makes everything worth it in the end.
“You know you’re doing something that’s just very special,” she said. “Not everybody gets the opportunity to be a part of something so remarkable.”
This article was originally published in American Essence, Vol. 4 Issue 1, Jan.-Feb. Edition.
Brothers Lucas (L) and Jesse Browde at home in Upstate New York. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
The count was full, the bases loaded. Jesse Browde stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and fixed his eyes on center field, like a hunter finding his mark. While his teammates were making a ruckus in the dugout, an eerie quiet fell over the parents on the bleachers. They were nervous—but curious.
Who was this kid?
Jesse had just moved to town the previous week, and since he was an unknown player in his first game with his new team, the Little League coach had slated him last in the lineup. No one knew what to expect.
He stepped into the batter’s box, tapped home plate, and settled his weight on his back foot. The opposing team’s pitcher was a big, strong kid. The late afternoon sun bore down on the side of his face, forcing him to squint in a way that made him look even more menacing. The next pitch came in fast, and a little high. Jesse stepped in, and with a quick pivot of his hips, he swung the bat.
Crack!
The moment the ball hit his bat, he knew it: It was a laser to dead center field and cleared the fence by more than 20 feet. His teammates went bonkers, and the hush that had settled over the parents erupted into cheers.
Jesse rounded third base heading for home plate, where the entire team had gathered for the age-old ritual of helmet tapping and bear-hugging reserved only for home runs and walk-offs.
After that day, it didn’t take long for Jesse to settle into his new team.
Jesse and Lucas grew up with a deep love for baseball, they played for a local Little League team and a travel baseball team. (Courtesy of Levi Browde)
These were happy times for Jesse and his younger brother, Lucas, who also played baseball. Their new school was great. Their baseball coaches were knowledgeable and dedicated. And despite the frequent protests of their Taiwanese mother, who fervently believed in home-cooked meals, their dad would often take them to Shake Shack or Five Guys after games.
Many burgers and fries were eaten.
At the time, Jesse and his brother felt that they were living the American dream. Later, they would come to realize that was only half true.
“As I grew older and learned more about our country’s founding, I came to realize that the American dream is not only about making a great life for oneself and one’s family,” Jesse said. “It’s about helping to build and create things that can be a force for good in the world and shared with others. It’s about giving back.”
For Jesse and Lucas, it wasn’t until years later when they joined the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company—Shen Yun Performing Arts—that they found their calling.
An Unexpected Path
At the Browde home, conversations at the dinner table often delved into American history—a subject the entire family is passionate about. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
Their parents, Levi and Vivian Browde, describe their sons’ upbringing as quintessentially American—Little League baseball; Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Fourth of July with family; and discussions about American history around the dinner table. The family pored over biographies of America’s founders, spurred on by the family patriarch—Levi’s father is a professor who specializes in constitutional law.
Dance was never part of the conversation.
That all changed on a trip to New York City, when Jesse and his family saw a performance of Shen Yun Performing Arts at Lincoln Center. Its programs feature classical Chinese dance, a dynamic and expressive art form that’s thousands of years old. What captivated Jesse most, however, was the message of the performance. Drawing upon a wellspring of legends and stories from traditional Chinese culture, Shen Yun performances showcase timeless themes such as loyalty, compassion, resilience, and faith.
“While they take the form of Chinese stories,” Levi said, “these themes are quite universal and not so different from the stories we discuss around the dinner table. The resilience of Washington and his men at Valley Forge, the loyalty of Lafayette, the faith of the pilgrims—these are values that resonate universally.”
For Jesse, the impact was immediate and profound.
“It wasn’t just the choreography or the message that was being conveyed that struck me. It was the passion of the two lead dancers I saw on stage that day,” Jesse said. “I remember very clearly, it was like, ‘That’s what I can do.’”
The future is bright for these two young dancers. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
To the surprise of his parents, Jesse sought out an audition at Fei Tian Academy of the Arts, the preparatory school for Shen Yun’s dancers. He had trained in tumbling and some fundamentals in classical Chinese dance for a few years, but the audition was still a long shot.
“I was conflicted,” Levi said.“I appreciated the kid having a dream, but at the same time, it felt like a quarterback from some backwater Division III school trying out for the New England Patriots. … He had a long way to go.”
Jesse’s mother, Vivian, was more specifically skeptical. She believed her son was too bulky from years of baseball and didn’t seem to have the lithe, flexible physique required for classical Chinese dance, and didn’t mince words in telling him so. “I just said I thought he was too old to start professional dance training—and too chubby,” Vivian said, with a laugh.
His parents weren’t the only skeptics. One of Jesse’s dance instructors initially gave him similar feedback, saying he was likely too old and inflexible to ever become an elite dancer.
But Jesse was determined.
“He had that look in his eye,” Levi recalled, “the same one he used to have in the batter’s box when facing a dominant pitcher. Sometimes he wouldn’t even see the pitcher and just focused on the center field fence—where he wanted to go.”
Left: Jesse in the dance “The Immortal Poet” at the 10th NTD International Classical Chinese Dance Competition. Right: Lucas took on the role of the famous Chinese general in “Loyalty of Yue Fei” at the same competition. (Larry Dye)
For the next several months, Jesse painstakingly trained his flexibility, constantly pushing his own limits. Sometimes, he recruited his parents to help him stretch or work on strength conditioning.
“Up until that point, I had never really set my heart on anything in my life before. I never had that drive or passion to push my limits for anything before,” Jesse said.
A little more than a year later, Lucas had his own epiphany while watching Shen Yun. For him, however, it wasn’t due to any one particular dance or story, but rather to the effect the artists created.
“There’s an energy to it, and you feel it when watching the show,” Lucas said. “It doesn’t just entertain people or even just teach about culture; it inspires morality in people and connects them with the divine. If people walk out of the theater with a new sense of virtuousness and faith, I feel this is the greatest gift you can give to people, and I wanted to be a part of that.”
Practice, Practice, Practice
For the next several years, Jesse and Lucas were not only brothers; they were classmates, training partners, and confidants.
“Classical Chinese dance is not easy,” Lucas said. “With the rigorous training, you really have to develop camaraderie with your classmates to help each other through, and you also learn the importance of staying positive.”
“On a typical day, we do three hours [of training] in the morning, a full load of academics, and I’m usually with friends in the training room for another three hours at night,” Jesse said. “And that’s only if there are no extra rehearsals. So, a minimum of six hours a day.”
Left: Jesse (L) and Lucas at a playground in New York City, early 2006. Right: Young Lucas and his grandmother. (Courtesy of Levi Browde)
Despite the rigors of their training, or perhaps because of it, Lucas feels a great satisfaction with his life’s path.
“Sure, at the end of the day, I’m often physically and mentally weary, sometimes literally crawling into bed. But those times are the most fun and give me the best memories and sense of satisfaction,” he said.
And despite the initial skepticism, years of hard work and an affinity for the millennia-old Chinese art form have paid off for both brothers. After winning a gold medal in the junior division of his academy’s dance competition, in 2020, Jesse was invited to join Shen Yun’s annual tour as part of a student practicum. Lucas, who also won gold in the same dance competition, was able to join his brother a year later.
The brothers’ success in such a short time period, however, is not unusual for Shen Yun’s training program. “It normally takes 10 or more years and a grueling schedule for someone to reach a world-class standard, which is why I was initially skeptical about the boys starting when they did,” Vivian said. “But, I have to admit: Shen Yun proved me wrong. They turned my slow, slightly chubby little baseball players into elite dancers. It’s remarkable.”
According to Levi, the success of Shen Yun’s training program is attributable to factors beyond just hard work and dedicated staff. “There’s a special sauce to the Shen Yun recipe that no one else has,” Levi said. “Shen Yun’s artistic director has infused the entire program with a foundation and know-how that had been essentially lost to history.” As an example, Levi points to the twin techniques of “shen dai shou” (the body leads the hands) and “kua dai tui” (the hips lead the legs). Often cited by international dance competition winners as the key ingredient to their success, Levi said these twin techniques have elevated Shen Yun performance art to a whole new level. “No one was even talking about them, let alone able to do them until Shen Yun burst onto the scene,” he added.
“The boys were very fortunate to find an institution that could take their heartfelt aspirations and provide a way to make them reality,” he said. “They are living their dream, and Shen Yun made it possible.”
Today, Jesse and Lucas—now both adults—share the stage together, traveling the world to perform. Yet, as audiences across the globe marvel at the Chinese art form that they exhibit, few may realize that it’s an American enterprise.
An American Company Showcasing Authentic Chinese Culture
Shen Yun Performing Arts was established in New York in 2006 with a mission to revive China’s 5,000 years of traditional culture.
Within a few years, Shen Yun’s shows were routinely sold out wherever they went. Today, the group has eight companies that tour the world simultaneously, performing in more than 200 cities across five continents each season. With groundbreaking innovations in digital stagecraft, the world’s first orchestra to feature both classical Chinese and Western instruments as permanent members, and storylines that draw from the rich tapestry of China’s 5,000-year history, the company quickly raised the bar on what a group of artists could accomplish.
The response from audiences around the world was immediate, and heartwarming.
Lucas says one of the most inspiring things for him is watching the short interviews that people give after watching a Shen Yun performance.
“Although it’s just a performance, you can tell by watching audience reviews that something very different and special happens at a Shen Yun show. It touches people,” he said.
After seeing Shen Yun this past year, world-renowned author and life coach Tony Robbins said: “The stories are amazing, the execution and the dance is amazing. … I think this is beautiful because it’s keeping [Chinese culture] alive, and it’s sharing it with the world.”
(Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
Actor and comedian Tim Allen, who also saw Shen Yun recently, concurred, saying, “I loved it … quite wonderful.”
For U.S. Brig. Gen. Hector Lopez, a former wartime chief of staff, seeing Shen Yun was transformative: “It was a very emotional experience. … It was not just entertaining, but at the same time, it has a message. I believe we become better people just by watching and witnessing this.”
But none of this could be done in China today. For decades, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has sought to eradicate traditions and impose communist ideology on the people. Because Shen Yun showcases authentic Chinese culture from before the rise of communism, and the CCP views that mission as a threat, the dance company cannot be based in China, nor travel there to perform. For more than a decade, the CCP has pressured theaters and local governments around the world to cancel Shen Yun’s shows.
With no safe haven to nurture authentic Chinese culture at home, elite classical Chinese dancers and musicians have turned their sights on America’s shores to establish Shen Yun.
“At first glance, it may seem strange to have a company here in America whose artistry and cultural foundations are more authentically Chinese than anything you can find in China today,” said Shujia Gong, an associate professor at Fei Tian College. “However, America has long been the place where great ideas grow into great enterprises.
“From the Magna Carta to Locke and Montesquieu, those great ideas unfolded in Europe long before the American Revolution, and yet it was in America where these ideas coalesced into a system of government that inspired freedom and democracy around the world. The Industrial Revolution started in England, and yet it was in America where the automobile, manned flight, as well as computers and the Internet really took off.
“America was the ‘Great Experiment’ in self-governance, but it has also become the great incubator for industry, culture, and progress in general. So it’s not at all surprising that the world’s premier classical Chinese dance company is an American company.”
That idea isn’t lost on Jesse and Lucas. In fact, it’s a point of pride.
“It’s people from all around the world, America, Korea, Japan, Europe—we are from all over the place,” Lucas said. “People come to America to expand what it is they want to do, to make dreams happen.”
“These artists at Shen Yun are people who want to showcase the truth [of real Chinese culture], and they are from all around the world,” Jesse added.
(Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
A Foundation of Freedom, a Global Reach
With Shen Yun, Jesse and Lucas have traveled around the world, as the company routinely takes to the stage on five continents. This past season, their group ventured into new markets, performing 63 shows in eight European countries, as Shen Yun has become a phenomenon across the Atlantic in recent years.
While the experience has exposed the brothers to a broader range of peoples and cultures, it has also given them a newfound appreciation for America.
Recently, on a rare day off, Jesse and Lucas sat in their living room and reflected on this idea.
“Being American is about contributing to our country in a way that allows many different opinions and perspectives to flourish,” Jesse said. “I draw strength and inspiration from knowing that I come from a country whose principles dictate that everyone should be treated as human beings blessed with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, no matter who they are.”
“For me,” Lucas added, “it’s about embracing the liberty we have here that allows us to not only pursue our own happiness, but also have the freedom to share culture and ideas with others. In a way, it’s about having the strength to spread my wings beyond America’s borders. I feel confident and fulfilled traveling the world, partially because I know my home is in America—and that gives me a sense of a foundation to do so much.”
Ronald Reagan; his first wife, actress Jane Wyman; and their
children, Michael and Maureen, at their home in Beverly Hills, Calif.,
circa 1946.
Michael Reagan, eldest son of President Ronald Reagan, political commentator, author, radio host of 26 years, and holder of five powerboat racing world records, said he has been asked all his life, “What was it really like being raised by Ronald Reagan?” When he finally set pen to paper, he realized he had much more to reflect on, and he was all the more honest for it.
In 2016, Reagan published “Lessons My Father Taught Me,” a memoir of his relationship with his father and all he learned from him about love, leadership, family, and faith.
American Essence spoke with Reagan about his cherished memories with his father.
On a lesson he learned while growing up: “I really learned about America, and the military, when I would ride out to the ranch on any given Saturday morning with my father and he would regale me with songs of the Army, the Navy, the Marine Corps, the Coast Guard. And he would just tell me about America,” Reagan said.
On what his father imparted to him: “Forgiveness,” said Reagan. As a child, he was the victim of molestation, and the perpetrator’s threats followed him for years. He carried fear, shame, and resentment with him, even walking away from God and his family at one point. “Ultimately, it came to me that I had to live the Lord’s Prayer instead of just reciting the Lord’s Prayer: Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
He recalled his father’s famously good attitude: “Dad was never bothered. Nothing upset him.”
A special bonding moment: Reagan recalled that in 1991 (when he was about 46), while sitting in church, he asked God to show him that his father loved him. In a moment of blame, he thought about how his father never said “I love you.”
“The voice came back and said, ‘So, when was the last time you told your dad you loved him?’” He realized he never had. “Another voice said, ‘Next time you see him, give him a hug and tell him you love him.’”
He did so, and shocked his father—and the secret service—quite a bit. But then his dad returned the hug and said, “I love you, too.”
From then on, that became their ritual every meeting. When Alzheimer’s had taken much of his father’s memory, and he couldn’t say Michael’s name, the president still held out his arms every time he saw his son, because he recognized him as the man who would always give him a hug.
Maria Cooper Janis holds a photo of herself with her mother, actress Veronica Cooper (née Balfe), and her father, Gary Cooper. (Samira Bouaou for American Essence)
Gary Cooper is synonymous with the Golden Age of Hollywood. He was one of its most successful box office draws. He was nominated five times for the Best Actor Oscar and won twice for “Sergeant York” and “High Noon.” Handsome, strong, and with an honest stare, Cooper became the country’s model of masculinity, integrity, and courage.
His roles were varied. They ranged from military heroes, like Alvin York, the most decorated U.S. soldier in World War I, and Billy Mitchell, considered the Father of the U.S. Air Force; to a Quaker father in “Friendly Persuasion”; the tragic baseball player Lou Gehrig in “The Pride of the Yankees”; and a tamer of the Old West, none better known than the fictional Marshal Will Kane in “High Noon.”
Maria Cooper Janis, the daughter and only child of Cooper and Veronica Balfe, recalled her father saying that he wanted to try to portray the best an American man could be. These dignified and masculine roles surely captured the ideal, but they also captured something else. Janis said the man that millions of moviegoers saw, and still see today, was, in so many ways, playing himself.
Gary Cooper waits on set. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis）(L to R) Actors Clark Gable, Van Heflin, Gary Cooper, and James Stewart enjoy a laugh during a New Year’s party held at Romanoff’s restaurant in Beverly Hills, Calif. (SSLIM AARONS ESTATE/Getty Images)
Rugged and Sophisticated
From the rough-and-tumble Western stereotypes to the sophisticated man-about-town, he was “as comfortable in blue jeans as he was in white ties and tails,” she said.
There is a famous photo called “The Kings of Hollywood” of Cooper standing alongside Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable, and Van Heflin in their white ties and tails, cocktails in hand, having a laugh. It is the elegant and sophisticated version of Cooper—the quintessential image of Hollywood’s leading man. Indeed, Cooper was one of the kings for several decades.
But he was also an everyman. Cooper grew up in early 1900s Montana. He was born in Helena just a few years after it was named the state’s capital. It was a rich town despite being part of the recently settled West. It was an environment―both rugged and luxurious―that Cooper would go on to personify.
The Cooper family enjoying a romp in the snow. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
Janis said her father’s first friends were the local Native Americans. They taught him how to stalk and hunt animals and perform his own taxidermy. His friendships helped him understand the plight of the Indians. His father, Charles Cooper, a justice on the Montana Supreme Court, had long been concerned about the Native Americans.
“My grandfather was always working for the underdog,” she said. “My father must have heard a lot of those stories. [My father] always felt he should defend those who needed defending, especially those who didn’t have the clout or standing to win.”
Cooper and the cast on the set of “High Noon.” (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
The Defender
Cooper found himself defending others on film and in real life, and sometimes those two mixed. Although he stated before Congress that he was “not very sympathetic to communism,” he was sympathetic to those in Hollywood―actors, writers, and directors―who were targeted by the Hollywood blacklist movement. One of those with whom he was sympathetic was Carl Foreman, who had written the script for “High Noon” and had refused to cooperate with the House Un-American Activities Committee. After “High Noon,” Foreman left for England, where he would write “The Bridge on the River Kwai.”
“My father was actually very close to Carl Foreman,” Janis said. “My father told Stanley Kramer [the producer], ‘If Foreman’s off the picture, then Cooper is off the picture.’” Foreman remained, and Cooper performed one of his most definitive roles as a marshal who stands against a criminal gang in a town where everyone is too afraid to help. “High Noon” is believed to be a representation of the Hollywood blacklist era―a belief that Janis holds as well.
“My father passionately believed you were free to believe what you wanted to believe,” she said. “He was threatened that he would never work in Hollywood again. But he knew what he believed and he lived his life.”
Cooper in the ring with a bull in Pamplona, Spain. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
Lessons From Cooper
Cooper kept working in Hollywood for nearly a decade more until his tragic death from cancer. But Janis wants people to know that there was so much more to her father than his time on the big screen. It is one of the reasons she wrote her book “Gary Cooper Off Camera: A Daughter Remembers,” which focuses on his family life.
“We had a very close family bond,” she said. “If you have loving parents who show you discipline, that’s a leg up in life. I think the importance of a loving, strong father figure for a girl is excruciatingly important.”
Her mother and father were both a source of encouragement. Despite growing up the daughter of Gary Cooper, she never felt pressured to go into acting.
“He basically left it up to me. He and my mother were very realistic. I came to my own conclusions about what I wanted in my life,” she said.
She studied art at the prestigious Chouinard Art Institute in Los Angeles and began a successful career as a painter. She said that being an artist was apparently in her DNA, as her father, her grandmother Veronica Gibbons, and her great-uncle Cedric Gibbons, who designed the Oscar statuette, were gifted artists.
Family time at Cooper’s Brentwood, Calif., residence. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
Cooper―at home and on-screen―had given his daughter the proper perspective of what she should look for in a husband. He had thoroughly educated her on the fact that there were some men who “don’t act very gentlemanly.” So he taught her boxing and self-defense.
“He told me, ‘Don’t let any man intimidate you. You are going to be a beautiful woman. Stand up for yourself,’” she recalled. “It was enough to give me a sense of confidence.”
When her father died in 1961, she continued her career in art and retained that confidence. In 1966, she married another artist, Byron Janis, one of the world’s greatest classical pianists. She said marrying Janis was “the greatest fortune that could have ever happened to me.” The two celebrated their 57th wedding anniversary this April.
Cooper and little Maria at the Grand Canyon. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
In Cooper’s Memory
Although Cooper has been dead for more than 60 years, his legacy remains. That legacy has been entrusted to his daughter’s care. She has worked to champion her father’s causes as well as his name.
Janis established a scholarship at the University of Southern California in Cooper’s name for Native American students who wish to pursue an education in film and television. She also advocates for continuing research into the terminal illness of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), famously known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.
Along with her book, she collaborated with Bruce Boyer on his book “Gary Cooper: Enduring Style” and contributed to the documentary “The True Gen,” about Cooper’s friendship with Ernest Hemingway. She also established the official Gary Cooper website dedicated to his memory.
Janis said she has understood her past and that of her father’s better over the years, quoting the Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” In a broader sense, her efforts are to ensure Gary Cooper will be better understood by all as the years go by.
The family loved making music together. (Courtesy of Maria Cooper Janis)
Portrait of music composers Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein at a piano, during the development of their new musical 'Pipe Dream', 1955. (Photo by Pictorial Parade/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
On the evening of March 31, 1943, American musical theater entered its Golden Age. That was the night the curtain at Broadway’s St. James Theatre rose on an old woman churning butter and a cowboy praising the beauty of the morning. It was the night “Oklahoma!” proclaimed the arrival of composer Richard Rodgers and librettist/lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II as a writing team and theatrical force.
The show wasn’t expected to be a hit. “No gags, no girls, no chance,” was the infamous response of a critic who saw “Oklahoma!” in out-of-town previews. Musicals at the time were expected to exhibit a certain degree of glitz that this one lacked. Through the magic of Rodgers’s music and Hammerstein’s words, however, “Oklahoma!” made audiences—and critics—forget all that. It ran for an unprecedented five-plus years.
(Photo by Pictorial Parade/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
“Rodgers and Hammerstein,” as the team quickly became known, went on to define the span of the Golden Age they initiated, which for most commentators ends with Hammerstein’s death in 1960. These years, 1943–1960, were the era of the “book musical,” the blending of musical, lyrical, dramatic, and choreographic elements into a seamless whole, each contributing to the tone and meaning of the story. That may seem old-fashioned in a time of jukebox musicals and pop star tributes, but in the 1940s it was the leading edge of innovation.
Debuting at New York’s Niblo’s Garden in 1866, “Black Crook” was a hodgepodge of song, dance, and story that set the stage for the first American musical. (Public domain)
The Birth of the Musical
The American musical began as a hodgepodge of song, dance, and dialogue loosely strung together to tell a story—or sometimes not. The first example is said to be “The Black Crook,” an 1866 grab-bag of tunes and jokes linked to a thin plot. Over the ensuing decades, the American musical painstakingly crawled its way toward the integration of music, dance, and story line into a sophisticated whole. Two giant steps in that direction were “Showboat” (1927) and “Pal Joey” (1940). Hammerstein wrote the dialogue and lyrics for “Showboat” while Rodgers was the composer of “Pal Joey.”
Original Playbill cover for the 1949 production of “South Pacific,” starring Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza. (Public domain)
Prior to 1942, Rodgers had been working with lyricist Lorenz “Larry” Hart on musicals that slowly advanced the notion of an integrated whole, culminating in “Pal Joey.” But Hart was plagued with personal problems, drank heavily, and was increasingly difficult to work with. Rodgers, intent on turning a little comedy called “Green Grow the Lilacs” into a musical, knew Hart wasn’t up to it. He asked Hammerstein, whose work on “Showboat” he admired, and Hammerstein said yes.
It was a match made in theatrical heaven. Rodgers, tired of the urban style he used with Hart, turned to a more broadly lyrical, operetta-like musical language flecked with American folk elements. Hammerstein’s poetic lyrics matched this and evoked atmosphere, character, and sensibility in a way no popular lyrics of the time did. He could dream into the hearts of a young couple and find them fantasizing about a “Surrey with the Fringe on Top,” or imagine the plaint of an outcast (Judd) in his “Lonely Room.”
BLACK CROOK’s plot involved a fairy queen, and evil count, treasure and a lovely village girl. More importantly, the play integrated music, dance, and spoken lines in a new format similar to that of the modern musical comedy. Poster for an 1882 production. (Public domain)
American Stories Told Through American Music
“Oklahoma!” and the three remaining Rodgers and Hammerstein shows of the 1940s concern American characters. “Carousel” (1945) finds us in New England, witnessing the tragic yet transcendental romance of Billy Bigelow and Julie Jordan. “Allegro” (1947), the only box-office failure of the four, traces the life of an American doctor. “South Pacific” (1949) considers the lives of American servicemen and women in World War II.
Mary Martin with children in mountain landscape. Martin played the leading role, Maria, in the Broadway musical The Sound of Music. (Toni Frissell)
In the 1950s, however, the musicals moved beyond American shores. The two biggest Rodgers and Hammerstein hits of that decade focus on an English lady tutor in 19th-century Siam (“The King and I,” 1951) and a singing Austrian family fleeing the Nazis (“The Sound of Music,” 1959). Their only ’50s box office success set in America was “Flower Drum Song” (1958), considered “minor” Rodgers and Hammerstein. Their TV musical “Cinderella” (1957) used European fairy tale material.
The fading of the book musical is not surprising, given the nature of contemporary song. Traditional popular song, the framework for Rodgers’s music, was harmony-based, whereas current pop is largely beat-based and harmonically much narrower than the earlier type. Harmony was central to creating the appropriate musical language for a book show.
Original poster for Flower Drum Song.
Creating a Musical Universe
All the songs in “Carousel” have a certain melodic gesture in them. This gesture, based on a specific interval between notes (the augmented fourth) generates shared harmonies among the various songs. That’s why numbers as rhythmically distinct as “If I Loved You” and “June Is Busting Out All Over” belong to the same universe: Their harmonic structures are related. But one song is an exception: “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” That’s the hymn Carrie sings to comfort Julie when Billy dies, and the reason it feels transcendent, separate from the others, is that it is harmonically unique. Rodgers and the other composers of the Golden Age didn’t just make up tunes willy-nilly. A deep craftsmanship informed their art.
Rodgers and Hammerstein’s catalogue is today a frequent target of critics who bandy about words like “conventional” and “bourgeois” as if the values represented by them are automatically to be dismissed as out of date. But the clock, as G.K. Chesterton once observed, is a human invention, and humans may set it back any time they wish. Perhaps it’s time to dial our musical theater clocks back to the era of Rodgers and Hammerstein.
Studio portrait of American actor John Wayne wearing his signature cowboy hat and neckerchief, circa 1955. (Hulton Archive/Stringer/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
Rarely is a man remembered for who he was when he was so overshadowed by what he did. In the case of John Wayne, however, who he was and what he did were one and the same.
John Wayne, born Marion Robert Morrison on May 26, 1907, in the very small Iowa town of Winterset, became one of the, if not the, most iconic actors of the 20th century. At 13 pounds, he was born to become a large man, destined for grand entrances and memorable exits. He was the eldest child of the Morrisons, a marriage that was etched with struggles, insults, and uncertainties. The family was poor and moved a lot, eventually landing in California in 1914.
Out in the farmlands and small towns of his upbringing, he learned how to handle guns, having to protect his father from rattlesnakes while working untamed land. He learned to ride horses. He perfected his reading as he went through the Sears catalogs cover to cover, noting each item he wished he could afford. He learned the idea of hard work, even when it wasn’t profitable, something his father consistently experienced and was reminded of just as often by his mother. He honored both his parents, but he loved his father.
Studio portrait of American actor John Wayne wearing his signature cowboy hat and neckerchief, circa 1955. (Hulton Archive/Stringer/Archive Photos/Getty Images)
Wayne grew up strong and tall, suitable for an athletic career. His athleticism landed him a football scholarship to the University of Southern California in the fall of 1925. While attending school, he worked on movie sets as a prop man and was at times a film extra, typically a football player. During this time, he met the already famous and successful film director John Ford. While bodysurfing on the California coast, Wayne injured his shoulder and lost his scholarship. His football playing days were over, but he was still tall, dark, and handsome, and he decided to join the “swing gang” at Fox Film Corporation moving props.
His relationship with Ford blossomed. The two were opposite in nearly every way, but they attracted, as opposites sometimes do. Ford and Wayne developed a kind of father-son relationship, as Wayne would often call Ford “Coach” and “Pappy.” Ford would be credited with giving Wayne his big break—twice.
A Break and a Name
Ford introduced the young actor to director Raoul Walsh, who decided to have him star in his 1930 epic Western “The Big Trail.” The film was a flop at the box office, though in defense of the film, the Great Depression had just begun. During the filming, however, the studio executives decided that “Marion” was not much of a name for a leading man. Anthony Wayne, after the Revolutionary War general, was considered. Anthony didn’t work either. One of the executives suggested John. When the film was released, his new name was on the posters. Much like his nickname “Duke” was given him by local firemen, his new name, bestowed upon him by others, stuck throughout his life.
A new name and a starring role, however, would hardly change his film career. Throughout the 1930s, Wayne was relegated to B Westerns. As he ascended from his 20s into his 30s, he used his time wisely to perfect his on-screen persona―a persona that he assimilated off-screen as well. His choice of wardrobe, his walk, his fighting style were all tailored for himself by himself. The Duke was an icon in the making, and the making was all his creation. He just needed a true opportunity to showcase it.
American actor John Wayne as a young boy, sitting against a fence on the prairies with his younger brother Robert. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
A Memorable Entrance
That opportunity arrived in 1939 when Ford chose Wayne to star in his Western film “Stagecoach.” The director had always been a believer in Wayne. The young actor had proven to be a hard worker, receptive to directorial guidance, and willing to do many of his own stunts. Along with that, he was 6 feet, 3 inches tall, with a broad-shouldered frame, blue eyes that showed gray on the silver screen, and a strong nose and jawline. His acting also came across honest, as if he was speaking directly to the person in the audience. There was a magnetic pull with Wayne, and Ford decided to do all he could in his film to draw viewers to him.
Wayne was a familiar name and face for moviegoers, having already appeared in 80 films by this time. Familiar, yes. A star, no.
The 1939 film revolves around seven passengers trying to get from one town to the next while trying to avoid the inevitable Indian attack. Nearly 85 years removed, “Stagecoach” remains one of the great Westerns. The movie did more than tell a great story. It did something more important. It introduced the world to John Wayne. Eighteen minutes go by before Wayne makes his entrance in the film, and it is an entrance that was created specifically for the induction of a soon-to-be American icon.
In a wide shot, the stagecoach rides up a slight incline when suddenly there is a gunshot. The stagecoach comes to an abrupt halt. Starting with what is known as a cowboy shot (pioneered by Ford and also known as the American shot), the camera moves in for a close-up of Wayne, who twirls his Winchester rifle. The shot starts in focus, slightly goes out of focus as it moves toward the actor, and then finishes in focus. The actor stands majestically wearing a cowboy hat and neckerchief, which would soon become synonymous with Wayne. The shot was out of place not just for the film, but also for Ford. But it was intentional for reasons explained by Scott Eyman in his biography “John Wayne: The Life and Legend.”
“This is less an expertly choreographed entrance for an actor than it is the annunciation of a star.”
“Stagecoach” was Wayne’s big break into the Hollywood movies, making him one of America’s leading actors and soon to become a star. Theatrical poster for the 1939 American release of “Stagecoach.” ( Public domain)
America’s Leading Man
From this point on, Wayne would embrace his role as America’s leading man. There were other actors, of course, during his rise. Some on the decline, like Clark Gable and Gary Cooper. Some on the rise, like Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. Their greatness in their own ways cannot be diminished. Gable with his force of nature persona. Cooper as an embodiment of honesty and kindness. Grant as the romantic symbol of the 20th century. And Stewart, a personified symbol of truth. But Wayne embodied something else, and yet he was all of these things. He became the face of the country.
Authors Randy Roberts and James Olson both noted that Wayne became America’s “alter-ego.” Wayne hoisted that alter-ego upon his cinematic shoulders, which proved more than capable of bearing the load. The Duke chose films that promoted and often propagandized America’s greatness. His primary film genres were war films and Westerns.
When America entered World War II after the Pearl Harbor attack, Wayne was closing in on 35 years of age and already had four children. Film stars, like Stewart and Gable, along with directors, like Ford, joined the war effort overseas. In 1943, Wayne applied to join the Office of Strategic Services, the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency, but the spots were filled. In 1944, when there was a fear of a shortage of men, Wayne’s status was changed to 1A (draft eligible), but Republic Pictures filed for a 3A deferment for Wayne, which kept him in front of the camera. Ultimately, Wayne believed, arguably correctly, that his impact as an actor (or more cynically a propagandist) would be far greater than as a soldier.
“I felt it would be a waste of time to spend two years picking up cigarette butts. I thought I could do more for the war effort by staying in Hollywood,” he told John Ford’s son, Dan.
Cinematographer Bert Glennon (L) and director John Ford on the set of “Stagecoach” in 1939. (Public domain)
For all intents and purposes, Wayne, who would have been classified as a private, would have most likely remained behind the scenes doing busy work or promotional bits for the military. Though he would never be a military hero, Wayne proved more than patriotic. As Eyman wrote regarding the type of roles Wayne chose to perform, “His characters’ taste for the fulfillment of an American imperative was usually based on patriotic conviction, rarely for economic opportunity.”
Between the span of America’s entry into the war and the end of its occupation in Japan (1952), Wayne starred in eight World War II films. He would also join the United Service Organizations (USO) overseas, where he entertained the troops and helped boost morale.
A Conservative Stalwart
Throughout his career as America’s leading man, he never shied away from making his conservative views known, and he never wavered from opposing liberal viewpoints. He and Paul Newman, a known Hollywood liberal, regularly talked politics and shared books with each other that discussed their differing political perspectives. Wayne’s 1974 visit to Harvard University, to possibly be disparaged by the student body, resulted in both sides walking away with mutual respect.
Wayne knew what was to be expected, especially with the anti-war movement on campuses. He took verbal barbs and responded in his typical fun-loving yet pointed manner. At one point, he told the young audience: “Good thing you weren’t here 200 years ago or the tea would’ve never made the harbor.” The comment was greeted with cheers rather than boos.
As the New York Post columnist Phil Mushnick wrote, concerning the outcome of the Harvard visit, “There were many who found themselves actually—and incredibly—liking John Wayne. They still disliked his politics, of course, but was he any different from many of their parents?”
Wayne reads a “Prince Valiant” comic with his four children, 1942. (Hulton Archive/Stringer/ Archive Photos/Getty Images)
Eyman pointed out the actor’s quasi-familial influence on the American homeland. Wayne’s growth on-screen and off-screen proved to be near equal in its cultural weight. He reminded “people of their brother or son, he gradually assumed a role as everyone’s father, then, inevitably, as age and weight congealed, everyone’s grandfather.”
On June 11, 1979, America’s grandfather passed away from stomach cancer. He had beaten cancer once before, and it had cost him a lung and some ribs. His final film, “The Shootist,” is about an old gunfighter dying of cancer. Though he had another film lined up, his death after his final film is, still tragically, more fitting than ironic.
Wayne was America’s cowboy. He was the war effort on film. He worked to root out communists in Hollywood. He was a man who believed in patriotism when many Americans tried to give that a bad name. John Wayne was, and, according to polls, still is, part of the American family. When Wayne was being considered for the Congressional Gold Medal in May 1979, the stars came out in support. Elizabeth Taylor told Congress, “He has given much to America. And he has given to the whole world what an American is supposed to be like.”
He was awarded the medal a month after his passing. In 1980, President Jimmy Carter posthumously awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Of all the attributes one could give John Wayne, the one recommended to Congress by his five-time co-star Maureen O’Hara seems to be the most appropriate.
“I feel the medal should say just one thing,” O’Hara tearfully said. “John Wayne: American.”
Wayne stars as Robert Marmaduke Hightower in the 1948 western “3 Godfathers.” (Hulton Archive/Stringer/ Archive Photos/Getty Images)
