The File On Stormy Foster: Epilogue
THE FILE ON STORMY FOSTER
A Cartoon Movie Serial in Twelve Chapters
EPILOGUE:
THE SON-DAUGHTER'S MATE
"ASHES TO ASHES"
We reached the end of a long, hard road in August of 1944. Since beginning our anti-Nazi crusade two years earlier, Stormy, Freddy and I had been running on pure adrenaline! When Basil joined us, he took on the same level of stress. The traumatic events of those last few months had taken an enormous toll; we were exhausted and needed to rest, but Stormy couldn’t rest. He was upset over the way everything had turned out, and he wasn’t the kind who benefited from quiet meditation. Stormy desperately needed something to throw himself into, and that ended up being his singing career.
Nobody was talking about Toni Santamaría’s Rhumba Children anymore; it was all about their lead singer. Stormy Foster was now the big draw at Club China-Bahama. After Toni quit the group, he deserved and was given top billing in our promos. The other group members didn’t mind, but the Children's new line-up wasn’t stable. Theresita Carmen had too large a workload as club choreographer to be part of an act; she asked me to find another replacement for Toni. Then Pryce Rand wanted to work more with Todd Yamaha’s orchestra, and Basil expressed a desire to move on, too.
In early August, the Children officially disbanded and we announced Stormy’s forthcoming début as a solo act. We put many hours of work into what would be his first and last show: Theresita, Todd, Randy, Basil and Fannie Foster were all involved. There was no jealousy or resentment; everybody loved Stormy and wanted to see him do well. The choreography, repertoire and musical arrangements were all top-notch! But the costuming? Well, that was something else entirely.
The normal thing to do was fit Stormy up in a nice tuxedo for his first show; he’d worn them before and he looked fabulous. But he didn’t want to wear formal clothing! He was adamant about it, telling me: “Rhumba Children had a certain kind of stage presentation, and that was fine; but when I perform alone, I want to look like me.” Nothing I suggested would satisfy him, so he ended up creating a stage outfit from items in his personal wardrobe.
Nobody had ever seen anything like it!
His costume was part zoot suit, part dockworker and part swimwear. Would you believe he actually performed wearing beach sandals? All of us expressed reservations, but Stormy’s mind was made up. Nobody was going to mistake him for a Frank Sinatra wannabe. He wanted to achieve the kind of casual but sexy presentation that Rock stars adopted in the 1970s. The way Stormy sang anticipated the Rock era, and he certainly generated the same kind of audience reaction a Rock star would have! He could’ve given Elvis Presley a run for the money, and I’m not exaggerating.
On Saturday, August 19, 1944, the Allies launched an offensive that would result in the liberation of Paris, France. That was the turning point of the war. It was also the date of an unforgettable night at Club China-Bahama. We packed as many tables in as we could, and there was overflow lining the walls and crowding the bar. So many people, you could barely move! Mostly women, of course.
When Todd Yamaha’s orchestra played the intro, excitement rippled through the crowd like electricity. Then a collective gasp went up: The spotlight hit Stormy, dressed in that bizarre outfit!
Two of Theresita’s girls joined him on stage, and they went into a box step. Then he spun around, grabbed the microphone, dropped down on one knee and launched into “High On Your Love”. I mean to tell you, the whole room exploded! That song had been Toni Santamaría’s big number, but Stormy stole it away from her that night.
There wasn't a moment when the audience wasn’t eating out of his hand; he riveted their attention, even during a part of the show where the dancing girls were topless. While singing “Shotgun”, his next-to-last number, he decided to follow their example: In a spontaneous move, Stormy ripped open the top half of his costume, bared his chest and started shaking his whole body from head to toe. Dozens of screaming girls rushed the stage! You’ve heard of stopping a show, haven’t you? Well, this show literally stopped; he had to begin the song over from the top.
Long story short, Stormy Foster just destroyed that room. By the time we got him off stage, most of the rest of his costume was gone; hysterical fans had torn it off of him! I’ll never forget the roar of the crowd: All the crying, clapping, stomping and screaming. It was utter pandemonium! My brother recorded the show in a primitive stereo process, and he had one hell of a time balancing the sound levels. He did a great job of it, though: I’ve heard many live recordings since then, but never one as exciting.
We had great plans for launching Stormy on a solo recording career. He and I had also set a date for our wedding, but fate intervened: He was drafted just a few days later. Fannie Foster wasn’t worried. “You won’t have to go,” she told him. “You’ve already been disqualified for service by a positive TB test. Tell them they made a mistake.”
But both Basil and Stormy believed that the rituals he’d undergone on Pajaro Island had wiped away all traces of disease; so Stormy went to the induction center and asked to be tested again.
The new tests came back negative, which rarely happens after someone has been treated for TB; so they decided that his first test had produced a false positive. His draft notice was declared valid and he was promptly inducted into the United States Army.
When Stormy broke the news to us, he acted like he'd just won a lottery. We were all blindsided! It didn't make any sense: His mission was over; his special powers were gone. The Nazis were on the run all over the world, but Stormy wanted to have a more direct role in ending Adolph Hitler’s tyranny. For him, pursuing a solo career was secondary to doing that.
“Those who love the same sex will never be safe until Hitler suffers a total, unambiguous defeat,” he insisted. “Jews won't be safe, either, and certainly not dark-skinned people like me. Nobody will be safe!” So he became one of countless Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual soldiers who willingly fought to keep the free world free, despite the fact that America criminalized them. To me, they were the real heroes of World War II; whose sacrifice could have been greater?
Fannie became hysterical when she saw how determined Stormy was to fight. She swore, she cried, she pleaded with him! And she made it clear that she wasn’t just worried about his physical welfare. Revealing that she’d always known he was “AC/DC” – that was the term she used - Fannie warned Stormy that the military’s homosexual ban would hang over his head like a guillotine!
That ban was no joke; it's what kept Freddy from enlisting. If they found out that a soldier was Gay, he got the worst kind of dishonorable discharge: The kind that made finding employment all but impossible! But even that couldn’t change Stormy’s mind. After he left for basic training, Fannie confided her worst fear to Basil and me: “He won’t come back to us. I can feel it!”
But he did come back. Stormy got a furlough that Thanksgiving, and I arranged for his return to Honolulu. At the club we held a Hollywood Canteen-style celebration for Pearl Harbor troops, and he took part. Rhumba Children reunited for that event; Toni Santamaría and I were no longer on good terms, but she was a big-hearted lady. She was also a fierce American patriot, despite the racial barriers she’d faced on the mainland. Toni put our differences aside so she could give back to the uniformed men and women defending freedom. In my opinion, her performance outshined Stormy’s that night; it was the best I’d ever seen!
Rhumba Children were contractually obligated to cut one more session for Ocean Records. After the Thanksgiving show, Freddy and I were able to persuade Toni, Randy, Fannie, Basil and Stormy back into the studio one last time. From that session came the final Rhumba Children album and singles. We also overdubbed “Bésame Mucho”, which we released as Stormy’s first and only solo record. That master was completed on the last day of his furlough: Saturday, November 25, 1944 .
I’ll never forget that date because as everyone was leaving the studio, I asked him to stay behind. That's when and where I told him I was pregnant with his child! We both cried tears of joy, but mine were tinged with anguish. We embraced for the longest time, and then he had to go. Basil, Fannie and I watched his plane take off from Wheeler Army Airfield . . . and that was the last time we saw him alive. Fannie’s prediction was accurate, just off by a couple of months.
Racial segregation was the norm during World War II, even in the United States military. However, unless they were Black or Japanese, American soldiers were not segregated. Stormy had the option of serving with Whites, but he was a brown-skinned man and insisted on serving in a Black unit. He actually told his superiors that he was Black and cited his African-American “auntie” as proof! The late Jeff June had raised his consciousness about the need for solidarity among oppressed people of color.
In December of 1944, Stormy was part of the 333rd Field Artillery Battalion, a nominally all-Black unit. The 333rd supported the all-White 106th Division during the Battle of the Bulge in Belgium. It suffered massive casualties, and Stormy was one of them; his FBI file confirms that he was cut down at Bastogne on December the 16th. When the Army delivered that dreaded letter edged in black to Fannie Foster, she fainted on her doorstep! Fannie was so distraught, she had to be hospitalized for a time. Basil and I were devastated as well.
RHUMBA CHILDREN PROMO
As a serviceman killed in action, Stormy was eligible for burial at Arlington National Cemetery but that cemetery was segregated until the late 1940s. Rather than have him suffer that indignity, we requested his body. Two days after it arrived in Honolulu, Stormy was cremated in a ceremony conducted by Basil and the survivors of Pajaro Island.
Of course, I was there. I remember lots of flowers, elaborate costumes, much singing and dancing, and more food than I’d ever seen in one place before. It wasn’t what I expected; but the immortal Kauwa people weren’t used to death. They didn’t really know how to mourn, so they celebrated instead! That kind of funeral isn’t unheard of in Polynesian culture, so I put my reticence aside and joined them in celebrating Stormy’s life.
A religious ceremony was held, and that was somewhat more solemn. An elder brought a cage full of tropical birds; after leading a prayer, she set them free, but they didn’t fly away. They just kept circling back over the funeral pyre, singing the same forlorn notes over and over. It was heartbreaking to see and hear, but so very beautiful. As I watched, I felt Stormy’s baby move inside me. Exactly eleven months later, I gave birth to our son, Tristan Ben-Absalom. I nicknamed him “Torchy”. His birthday has always been bittersweet for me: A happy celebration combined with memories of a sad one.
PLAYING ALBUM ERA
In 1952, I sold the catalog of Ocean Records to Eli Oberstein, an executive at RCA Victor. That same year, he marketed a compilation of Rhumba Children recordings. The original 78 RPM releases were all but impossible to find by then, and there was still demand for them in Hawaii; not a month went by since the end of the war when somebody wasn’t inquiring about where to get them. Freddy and I chose the selections, which we agreed were the best vocal performances by both Stormy and Toni Santamaría. Released on Royale Records, it was the first time Rhumba Children’s music could be heard in the new 33 ⅓ LP format.
Later this year, Basil and I are planning to release Stormy’s live album for the first time. Freddy’s double-acetate master was still in pristine condition when we found it; we transferred it to digital audio tape and mixed it for true stereo playback. You won’t find many multi-track recordings from 1944, so it’s sure to be an instant collector’s item. What a thrill after all these years to hear Stormy sing again; he's at his very best, with sound so sharp and clear he could be in the same room with you! We hope to release that album on what would've been his 68th birthday.
Stormy has grandchildren now; they live with Torchy and his wife on Maui. Recently, they all traveled to Tamil Nadu in India, to see their grandfather’s birthplace. I wish I could have gone along: I’m a typical, doting kapunawahine who hates to be separated from her grandbabies!
Stormy's FBI file was closed on the day after New Year's, 1945. Reading it, you can tell that the revelation of Nazis being Gay men is what most surprised the agents. It didn't surprise me. Even back in the '40s, I knew that Gay people could be found in every movement, every organization, no matter what the ideological bent may be. We were, and are, everywhere and that's always been true.
POSTHUMOUS LIVE ALBUM
When I think about Diamond Faws and Wilbur von Schweiss today, I feel sorry for them. They both despised Gay people who failed to meet their conservative standards, who were gender non-traditional or who were too open with their sexuality. Most of us lived double lives back then, but by targeting their own kind they took duplicity to horrendous extremes.
I can’t help but pity such obvious self-hatred. On some level, they must have known they were on a path to certain death. Adolph Hitler may have been tolerant of Gay people in his inner circle, but that didn’t change Nazi doctrine; it mandated that they be purged! Friendship with Hitler didn’t save storm troop commander Ernst Röhm from execution, and it wouldn’t have saved them, either.
Their kind of insane alliance with avowed bigots has been duplicated time and again over the years. It reminds us that there are always closet cases among the enemies of Gay liberation! My own brother was certainly an example of that.
Only a month ago, we lost Freddy. His transformation into a Right Wing firebrand has been well-documented; he died a hero to racists, misogynists and homophobes, a fact that causes me great shame. However, I want you to know that he wasn’t born a bigot. That hateful man who compared marriage equality to having sex with animals . . . he was a stranger to me!
I knew the real Freddy Bang. He’s the one who sewed The Great Defender’s costume, who used his mechanical genius to make the first Gay Pride radio broadcasts happen, and who risked everything to help defend Hawaii’s LesBiGay community. I’m so very grateful to have had this chance to reclaim Freddy’s humanity, and his heroism.
This is Basil again, and I’d like to have the last word.
As much as was possible, we survivors of Pajaro Island came to terms with the massacre of our people. It took time, but we reached the point where we could forgive our wayward brothers; we know that Nazi doctrine trained them to hate their own kind. They saw us, and themselves, too, as defective human beings. No wonder they could commit such inhumane acts. If only they'd known the truth: That the Kanaka Tanga – Lesbians and Gay men - are the oldest race on Earth. We were the founders of humanity! The Maka Inana – Straight people – evolved from us, not the other way around.
We've come to understand that, no matter where in the world we reside, we are fated to mentor our heterosexual descendants, savage though they are at times! Their irrational hostility to our ancient love ways makes it necessary for us to periodically separate from them; but eventually, we must always go back. The gods intend that we should guide them by loving example. Our very survival depends on us saving them from their worst impulses! We know this only too well.
When the fabled Akua came to Pajaro Island and the gods sent him on his holy mission, he laid a foundation for our return to heterosexual society. Upon that foundation the modern Gay Rights movement began to grow and thrive. The 1969 Stonewall rebellion is widely believed to have launched the movement, but that's preposterous: It began in Europe nearly 100 years earlier. Nineteenth century pioneers included Karl Heinrich Ulrichs, George Cecil Ives, Magnus Hirschfeld and Edward Carpenter. It's important that we remember their names.
More recently in the United States but long before Stonewall, many Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and even some Transgender people (who we Hawaiians call mahu) sacrificed themselves to make liberation happen. Street kids and drag divas who patronized a seedy Gay bar in Manhattan may have started the riot, but they damn sure didn’t start the fire! If you’re looking for who did, my vote goes to Nirmahl Ben-Absalom, also known as Stormy Foster, The Great Defender: My late friend, lover and faith icon.
The night of his funeral and cremation, all the survivors of Pajaro Island received a spirit dream from Mother Penis and Father Vagina. In the land of slumber, we actually saw Nirmahl Ben-Absalom’s bullet-riddled body sprawled on the ground right after he died. Then we saw the Magic Bird of Fire appear out of nowhere and hover over him.
As I had witnessed her do months earlier, she miraculously changed herself from bird to human. There in all her transgender beauty stood our beloved queen: Pajaro Hina, the Son-Daughter!
We saw her bend down and tenderly lift Absalom’s spirit from his body; then she disappeared in a blinding flash of color and everything was as before.
Our surviving elders interpreted this dream. Through the long centuries of her existence, Pajaro Hina had never had a mate! As our queen, she had ruled alone. Periodically she appealed to the gods for a consort, but in vain. Finally, they granted her wish . . . that was the elders' explanation of the battlefield scene we witnessed.
Irene and I now bring this multi-volume audio tape to a close. If you scoff at the story we've told you, we're fine with that. It's not necessary for you to believe in super powers, hidden civilizations and shape-shifting queens. What we really want you to believe is what The Great Defender taught: That being Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transsexual is a blessing, not a curse. That there's nothing exotic, deviant, abnormal or "queer" about your status; that you must never allow an oppressor to name, blame, or shame you; and that you absolutely belong in this sometimes hostile world, no matter how hard anyone tries to convince you otherwise. So . . . peace be with you all! Mahalo a aloha nui.
Click below to read
Prologue to the Stormy Foster saga
Concept by HAMPTON JACOBS
and PATTY BALL
Art by STUFFED ANIMAL
Costumes by HENRIETTA la del BARRIO
Project Assistance by RODERICK MACK
and DAVE PEARSON
Text by HAMPTON JACOBS
Certain characters in this story were modeled on the images of actual living persons, among them WCVB Boston news anchors Antoinette Antonio, Sean Chaiyabhat, Sera Congi, Doug Meehan, Randy Price (now retired) and Rhondella Richardson. The character of Trixie Ball was modeled after Patty Ball, and the visual image of Kalpesh Ben-Absalom is that of Hawaii’s legendary sportsman ambassador to the mainland, the late, great Duke Kahanamoku.
Thanks to Bev Jackson, Stephanie Legatos, Rick Ludwig and Roderick Mack.
Special thanks to Neermal Rekha.
BABY GRAND RECORDING
SERVICES STUDIO LOG
“The File On Stormy Foster” features an interracial cast of mostly Asian-American lead characters. It was composed by a homeless artist of color in and around Brookline, Massachusetts. "Stormy" was a COVID-19 "lockdown project", begun in March 2020 and completed in May 2021. This "mock screenplay" is dedicated to Stormé DeLarverie (1920 - 2014), the woman who touched off the 1969 Stonewall rebellion. She truly was the great defender of LesBiGay and Trans people! Like Stormy Foster, she was a nightclub entertainer, had bi-racial heritage, a fiery temperament and a mandate to protect her community. Her real life story inspired his fictional one; but in all his super-powered glory, Stormy could never be as heroic as his flesh-and-blood butch Lesbian counterpart.
STORMÉ DeLARVERIE:
THE REAL "GREAT DEFENDER"
