Part 14 (written 2004)

(Continued from last week)

The passengers went into the building, and the guards took us back to the motor pool. We were told we could do what we wanted until around midnight, at which time we would be picked up again. The other drivers disappeared into the bar again, leaving Fred and me once again with nothing to do. It was less than half an hour later, and we were still discussing what to do with ourselves, when the guards came back and told the two of us to lock the cars and to come with them.

Another adventure seemingly lay ahead.

The guards drove us back past the flashing red lights to the Geisha House, and we were told to go up to the first floor.

Now picture this.

Two corporals enter a large room, like a ballroom I suppose, with a long low table running the length of the room, with a dance floor at the same level as the tabletop, on one side. All the “seats,” which were actually only pillows, were along both sides of that long narrow table. That is, except for two pillows, all pillows were occupied by the passengers of all the cars—generals, colonels and high-ranking civilians both Korean and American. The two empty seats were in the middle on both sides of table, in other words the seats of honor. The head geisha directed the two of us to those seats, where, upon seating ourselves, we were immediately surrounded by a gaggle of young and pretty geisha girls, all dressed in their prescribed uniform.

We subsequently learned that since the average age of the other guests was probably in the 50s, they, the Korean hosts, wanted also some younger blood, and we two were the only handy ones available. Since our presence was at the request of the hosts, and we were brought in and seated where we were, by the host personally, it prevented any one from objecting, although I am sure they were not comfortable with the situation.

As we sat there, surrounded by our “harem,” the head geisha would come over every once in a while, to shoo some of the girls away and toward the other men. But they always returned to us “kids,” to chatter away, although we hardly understood what they were saying. Hand signs were the more practical form of communication.

The girls insisted that we were not allowed to take any of the food by ourselves, but they had to prepare and feed it to us with their own hands. The tables were bending under the weight of platter after platter of stuff that I did not recognize as being edible. Many things looked like they must have crawled at one time, on or under the earth. I could not, would not, touch any of it for the obvious reasons, despite the pleading of the girls in whatever language they were trying to communicate. I allowed them to peel me mandarins, take out the pits, and put them into my mouth, provided their hands were clean. I also allowed them to pour me saki (rice wine), which I consumed in moderation, knowing that I did not have a designated driver for going home later. I had never drunk saki before and therefore did not know what alcohol content it had. I was assured by the girls that it was only rice.

A Korean band played music and a few officers who could, danced with the girls. I did not know how, and the girls did not want to share me, anyhow. So, I just watched the interesting scene. Since the dance floor was only slightly below eye level, and since everybody had taken their shoes off upon entering the building, in accordance with oriental custom, I was fascinated by the sight of a dancing general with a huge hole in his sock.

After a few hours, when the noise level in the room had become uncomfortable, about 10 or 15 of the men, including us two corporals, were invited to come to a much smaller room, where the “partying” continued but in a quieter setting. I must admit that after all that sitting around, by this time, it was getting a bit boring, and I was ready to go “home.”

Fred and I had “only” two or three girls each with us in that room. The others sadly (for them) had to stay with the boring old generals. During that time, one of the civilians, a department head from Seoul, was evicted, since, having had too much to drink, he could not or would not keep his hands off the girls. Touching the girls was absolutely forbidden.

Here is where we learned what this Geisha House was. It certainly is not what the GIs dreamed about, but rather nothing more than an Oriental-style night club, with entertainment, music, dancing, eating and drinking. I am sure the other kind existed as well, but certainly this one was not one of them.

At about midnight when the party ended, we were driven back to the parking lot by the MPs to pick up our cars, bragging to the other drivers about our memorable experience. We picked up our passengers and returned to Seoul. This was certainly a day and night to remember, and to relate to our children.

(To be continued next week)

By Norbert Strauss

 Norbert Strauss is a Teaneck resident and has volunteered at Englewood Hospital for over 30,000 hours. He was general traffic manager and group VP at Philipp Brothers Inc., retiring in 1985. Prior to Englewood Hospital he was also a volunteer at the American Committee for Shaare Zedek Hospital for over 30 years, serving as treasurer and director. He frequently speaks to groups to relay his family’s escape from Nazi Germany in 1941.