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Dorothy Toy/ Shigeko Takahashi

Kathryn S Gardiner | Published on 4/14/2025

Forgotten Foremothers

Profiles of lesser-known heroines in the fight for women’s right


An audience of devils applauds as Satan, their caped emcee, sits in his tall, peaked throne on a dais in 1937’s musical short “Deviled Ham.”

 

“Who waits without?” Satan asks as a horned messenger in short Spanish breeches hands him a scroll. “Toy & Wing, jazz dancers from the Orient. Burned up two dance floors covered with asbestos.” Satan gives a chuckle as he reads. “Very good. Started a forest fire by stamping their feet.” Presumably these fictional crimes are what have qualified these dancers to perform for this band of demons.

 

Satan approves. “Bid them enter,” he tells the messenger. With the bang of a rather stereotypical gong, a woman and man enter carrying gilded fans and wearing sequined Asian-style robes.

 


The woman soon sheds the robes to reveal a short, sparkling dress with long sleeves, and she takes to the dance floor. With impressive speed, she trots in a wild circle, entirely on pointe in ballet shoes, only to follow that display by dropping into squats and leaps. Again, entirely on pointe. 

 

The “Toy” of Toy & Wing was Dorothy Toy, all of 20 years old when she danced on her toe tips before the Devil. She was born on May 28, 1917, in San Francisco, Calif., and while Dorothy was one of her given names, Toy was not her family name. Dorothy was also called Shigeko Takahashi.

 

Like Yuri Kochiyama, Dorothy was Nisei, or second generation. Her parents had immigrated from coastal cities in Japan, her father from Wakayama and her mother from Yokohama. In 1924, when Dorothy was seven years old, the family relocated from San Francisco to Los Angeles, where her parents opened a restaurant called the Cherry Blossom Café.

 

Dorothy and her siblings, Helen and Peter, attended the Maryknoll Catholic Grade School. Located in Los Angeles’ Little Toyko area, the school had been dedicated in 1921 expressly to serve the needs of the city’s Japanese community.

 

Across the street from the family’s café was the Regent Vaudeville Theater. While their parents worked, the children often played, and for Dorothy, playing usually meant dancing. She showed a special skill for dancing on her toes. A Regent theater manager who regularly dined at the Cherry Blossom Café suggested to Dorothy’s parents that she should be given dance lessons. Her parents listened. They enrolled both Dorothy and Helen in classes.


Dorothy and Paul signed with the William Morris Agency soon after moving to New York City in 1939



“Her ballet teacher was Russian,” Dorothy’s daughter Dorlie would tell documentary filmmaker Rick Quan for Dancing through Life: The Dorothy Toy story. “And he did a lot of acrobatics as well as ballet. A lot of ‘trick dancing,’ my mother used to call it.” This background gave Dorothy’s dancing a unique flair as she did “Cossack-style dancing en pointe.” She also learned jazz and tap.

 

While still in their teens, the sisters went pro. They started auditioning for the various productions always filming around the city, performing under their surname Takahashi. They had little success at first. Then Paul Wing Jew, a Chinese American tap dancer who performed at the Regent, came to them with a tip: Warner Brothers wanted Asian dancers for its new film. All three dancers won roles in the 1934 film “Happiness Ahead.”

 

In the movie, a young white socialite climbs the stairs into an exotic, crowded, and joyful nightclub scene. A bedazzled Asian emcee welcomes the guests in his native language, then repeats in perfect English: “Greetings and salutations. May I present to you the only Oriental review of its kind in the country.” Five dancers—four women and one man—trot onto a dancefloor surrounded by diners and celebrants to perform a tap routine.  

 

We know three of these five: Dorothy, her sister Helen, and Paul Wing Jew. From here, they’d join together in a group act. All three would adjust their names to be more marketable to U.S. American audiences. Paul simply became Paul Wing, and Dorothy and Helen dropped Takahashi in favor of Toy. Dorothy thought it looked short and snappy on a marquee. They began performing as “The Toy Sisters and Wing: The Three Mahjongs.”

 

In “1936, I finished high school and the three of us went in this Model-T Ford. [Paul] said, ‘we’re gonna go to Chicago. There’s nothing here right now,’ you know. So I told my mother. She says ‘Okay,’” Dorothy told Rick, laughing. “She didn’t know where Chicago was.” 

 

In Chicago, Helen soon left to focus on her singing career. Meanwhile, the duo act of Toy & Wing took flight. “They were very good to us in Chicago,” Dorothy said. There, they honed and crafted their act. When producers said they looked too young, Dorothy invested weeks’ worth of money into a ballroom gown and costumes to look more mature. “I went through so much to do dancing because I loved it,” Dorothy said. “It wasn’t easy. Starving is very hard, but if you’re young you can do it.”


Ultimately, Dorothy and Paul wanted to dance on Broadway and in 1939, they traveled to New York. They signed with the famous William Morris Agency, and returned to touring. They were the first Asian Americans to ever perform at the London Palladium in England. “The exquisitely graceful Chinese dancers Toy and Wing lend distinction to the programme,” commented London’s Evening Standard on June 27, 1939. 

 

“They were actually in London…when Britain declared war on Germany,” daughter Dorlie said. “It was in 1939 and they were working at the London Palladium and the Holborn Empire and that’s when they experienced the blackouts. They had to carry gas masks and they were in the shelters whenever there were air raids.”

 

Twenty-three-year-old Dorothy and 28-year-old Paul married in 1940, though it was largely for convenience rather than romance. “For hotel rooms, it’s easier to say he’s my husband,” Dorothy explained. 

 

It just so happened that the press also loved the idea of a married dance couple and enjoyed Dorothy and Paul’s chemistry on stage. “A clever couple who appeared on the Irving vaudeville bill…last week were those novelty Chinese-American dancers Dorothy Toy and her husband Paul Wing,” reported Kay Dangerfield in Pennsylvania’s The Wilkes-Barre Times Leader on Jan. 12, 1942. “Their two hobbies are dancing and buying defense bonds.”

 


Many newspapers, like London’s Evening Standard in 1939, called Dorothy and Paul “Chinese dancers.”



Beyond the love of dance, it’s clear not much was easy in those days. Toy & Wing toured amid a strange and conflicting time in the United States. The Great Depression made employment hard to find for anyone—and exponentially harder for Asian workers. The Chinese Exclusion Act would not be repealed until 1943, as China became an ally in the war against Japan and Germany. Meanwhile, the internment of America’s Japanese immigrants and citizens started in 1942, following the bombing of the U.S. Pearl Harbor naval base in Hawaii by Japanese Imperial war planes in December 1941.

 

Despite all this, Dorothy and Paul made it to Broadway, becoming the first Asian American dancers ever to do so. They danced with passion and pleasure. Nothing of the struggle to get there shows in the black-and-white videos we still have of their energetic performances. But there’s tension in these old articles, in the need to assure readers of their loyalty to the United States and in the secret of Dorothy’s heritage. All these old pieces say she’s Chinese. “Paul’s Chinese, I’m Japanese, but they thought we were both Chinese,” Dorothy said of the audiences in those old days. “I think they enjoyed watching the personalities we gave them because we were so happy we were on Broadway.” 

 

After the Pearl Harbor bombing, Dorothy’s parents were forced to close the Cherry Blossom Café. They, like so many other Japanese immigrants and Nisei in California, were removed from their home and relocated to an internment camp. 

 

Within days, Dorothy’s secret was out, too, possibly leaked by a rival dance team. Beneath the title, “The Yellow Peril,” New Jersey’s Bergen Evening Record reported on Dec. 9, 1941, news that was, by then, actively circulating in the Broadway gossip columns. “We have it on reliable authority that Japanese in show business, despite the fact that they may be U.S. citizens (born here), will be closely watched...[T]here is Dorothy Toy of the dance team Toy and Wing…Wing, to whom she is married, is Chinese, and of course, the couple is always billed as a Chinese dance team… We are inclined to believe that any performer bearing the name Toy is Japanese rather than Chinese.”


The impact on her career was immediate. Dorothy and Paul lost movie contracts and were asked to leave performance venues. Dorothy was blacklisted from various clubs around the nation. “My mother just stayed in New York,” daughter Dorlie told Rick. “Her parents told her not to come to California because they were being interned. So her family was interned in Topaz [War Relocation Center in Utah]. They lost their restaurant. So, all her cousins and immediate family all went to the internment camps.”

 

“I was so embarrassed. Because people are very prejudice[d],” Dorothy told interviewer Mana Hayakawa in 2012 for the Densho Encyclopedia, an archive chronicling the Japanese American experience during World War II. “I didn’t want my family embarrassed or anybody embarrassed.” 

 

The site’s authors explained more fully. “She was not ashamed of her Japanese ancestry. ... Toy wanted to protect her dance partner, her family, and the club owners from any potential violence triggered by her Japanese identity in wartime America.”

 

Dorothy and Paul continued to perform at the venues that would allow them, including the Paramount theater. They had a three-week contract in 1943. “Right after the last show on the third week,” Dorothy told Rick, “I said goodbye to Paul. He went to the Penn Station and I went to the hotel.” Uncle Sam had come calling; Paul was drafted into the military. “It was sad. Very, very sad. The saddest day of my life.”

 

Dorothy moved to Chicago to be closer to her sister Helen. They began performing together as The Toy Sisters. Upon their release from the Topaz internment camp in 1945, the Takahashi family moved to Chicago to be with their daughters.  

 

After the war, Dorothy and Paul reunited, though he was changed by his time in service. “Poor Paul... He’s a dancer,” Dorothy explained. “Instead of having any special services or anything, they put him in the tank and he got a little shell-shocked. He wasn’t the same. ... [W]e danced together, but he lacked a lot of things... He wasn’t the same.”


Dorothy and Paul in 1942. 

Their marriage ended, but their partnership endured. They kept performing together. In the 1940s and ‘50s, that meant Chinatown nightclubs like Charlie Low’s Forbidden City in San Francisco that catered to a white audience, “including midwestern kids who had never seen a live Chinese person,” wrote Harley Spiller in “Late Night in the Lion’s Den” for Gastronomica magazine in 2004. He further described the scene at Charlie’s:

 

“Plush and roomy, the nightclub accommodated an eight-to-ten piece orchestra, performance space for a troupe of entertainers, and a large dance floor. Every night was a dazzling three-ring circus with singers, chorus lines, dance teams, and acrobats. There were no wild animals, but there was plenty of wildness documented by the photographers who snapped and sold pictures to the patrons. Revelers often included celebrities such as Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. One of the best surviving photos, snapped in 1942, is of then-actor Ronald Reagan with a stunning Jane Wyman at his side.”

It was Charlie Low who brought Dorothy and Paul back to California. He offered them a job at the Forbidden City. (Helen, too, found work in San Francisco’s Chinatown, so both sisters returned with their mother to the West Coast.) After years on a circuit where she and Paul were often the only Asian act, Dorothy enjoyed these performances at the Forbidden City. “It was a nice atmosphere,” she told Rick. “I liked it. ... Forbidden City is all Asian people. It’s very good.”

 

Through a woman in the chorus, Dorothy met Leslie Fong, a businessman in the area. The couple would marry in 1952 and have two children, Dorlie and son Peter. In Rick Quan’s documentary, Dorlie recounted how she’d often join her mother and Paul Wing in their act. She said, “I had a little Japanese kimono and at the end of their routine they would do an encore, so they would bring me on and we would do this little cha-cha. My grandmother had made my kimono for me. I think I really looked forward to those moments. It was really quite special for a child.” 

 

By 1962, Forbidden City and the nightclub scene had seen its heyday. Dorothy and Paul founded Toy and Wing’s Oriental Playgirl Revue. Just as they had transformed their act to look more mature when Chicago stages demanded it, now what the stages wanted was sensuality. With keen marketing savvy, Dorothy promoted the troupe with a photo of five naked dancers, save for carefully placed Asian-style umbrellas. It worked incredibly well.

 

While sexuality may have been troupe’s skin, dance was its heart. Dorothy choreographed the numbers herself and demanded professionalism and excellence from her dancers. An opening number featured the women emerging in Chinese-style opera robes with heavy, decorated layers and tall, metal headdresses. Then, the dancers would drop the gilded layers to reveal skimpy bras and panties underneath. In these costumes, they’d break into a jazz number. 

 

“As time changes, we went along with it. …Whatever the people are crazy about. But when it came to being nude and all that, we said, ‘no, no, this is where we stop,’” Dorothy told Rick with a laugh.

 

“I’d say it was suggestive, in those days, but it’s nothing compared to what they do on stage these days,” recalled performer Cynthia Yee. “When you talk about Chinese folk dance...or Japanese kabuki dancing, it was very, very refined. But we were very, very commercial. That’s what Dorothy believed in, in keeping the show very commercialized. She said that’s what the audience wanted, and she was right all the way.”

 

When Paul retired in 1965, Dorothy rebranded the troupe as Toy’s Oriental Playgirl Revue. They toured throughout the United States, Canada, Europe, South America, and Japan with performers like Patti LaBelle while she was still the frontwoman for Patti LaBelle and the Bluebelles and “Hawaii’s Frank Sinatra” Jimmy Borges.

 

Dorothy is often called the “Asian Ginger Rogers.” In her talk with Rick, Dorothy acknowledged both the praise and the inaccuracy. “It’s a nice compliment,” she said. “She’s a beautiful woman. I thought it was too nice of a compliment. See, I dance, but I dance more stronger. She was a soft, beautiful dancer.” (Watch a single video of Dorothy dance and you’ll immediately understand her point.)

 

“At the height of her career Toy was deemed a ‘novelty act’ because white audiences rarely saw Japanese American dancers perfecting American dance forms,” the writers at Densho Encyclopedia noted. “As such Toy was never fully credited for her incredible versatility and performance caliber. To be legible by a public steeped in Orientalist stereotypes, she could not distinguish herself as Japanese American and instead passed as Chinese. She had to embrace reductive titles such as the ‘Chinese Ginger Rogers,’ that, although complimentary, standardized white performers thereby never allowing Toy to be valued for her own unique abilities.”

 

The Oriental Playgirl Revue disbanded as the 1970s began. Demand for that style of dance show had dwindled. Now in her 50s, Dorothy faced a completely different type of transformation: Creating a life away from the stage. Always on her toes, she handled this change well, too.

 

“She never said, ‘I can’t do’ something,” Dorlie said. “And this is something she told me, she said, Dorlie, never say ‘can’t.’ Just say, ‘I can do everything,’ and learn it on the job.” This daring approach took Dorothy into careers as a salesperson and a hotel host, as well as a long-term job in a pharmacy. “She really put 100 percent into everything she did.” 

 

Of course, she also taught dance lessons. Hundreds of students learned from her expertise in the bright dance studio she created in the basement of her Oakland, Calif. home. Paul passed away in 1997. Dorothy celebrated her 100th birthday in 2017 with family, friends, and her many decades of dancing students. She died on July 10, 2019, at 102 years old. 

 

“She had a vision for herself and she followed through with it,” her daughter Dorlie said. “She just loved what she did, and that was the most important thing. She loved the applause, and she was happiest on stage.”

 

Dorothy herself said as much. “I loved it... When you’re dancing, it’s like you’re in another world.”

 

Much is rightfully written about Dorothy’s trailblazing. Yet, most of the obstacles she faced had nothing to do with the talent she undeniably had. She was the first in many fields, stages, places, and skills. She broke down walls and pushed open doors built by prejudice and stereotypes—because the stage was on the other side. Dorothy herself? She just wanted to dance.

 

Sources:

Dancing through Life: The Dorothy Toy story, documentary by Rick Quan

Deviled Ham musical short

Happiness Ahead: Scene featuring Dorothy and Helen Toy and Paul Wing

 

Densho Encyclopedia: Dorothy Toy

JSTOR: Late Night in the Lion's Den: Chinese Restaurant-Nightclubs in 1940s San Francisco by Harley Spiller

Evening Standard: June 27, 1939

The Bergen Evening Record: Dec. 9, 1941

The Wilkes-Barre Times Leader: Jan. 12, 1942

Wikipedia: Toy and Wing