Long article but interesting.........
Charles Lowe, who was employed as a cameraman on Enter the Dragon and frequently dined with Bruce at a local restaurant, recalled how Bruce would drink ten to twenty ceramic bottles of sake in an evening. Near the end, Lowe added, Bruce was often very tired and dizzy, and he looked gravely ill. Following his frequent drinking episodes, Bruce would often find his way to the apartment of Betty Ting. On other occasions Betty would phone Bruces house in the predawn hours, complaining that she was upset and couldnt sleep and pleading for him to come over. It was around this time that Bruce is said to have attempted to end the affair with Betty, but resumed it after she broke down and was admitted to a hospital.
Understandably the Lee marriage was in serious trouble. Besides Linda having become disenchanted with living the repressed life of the typical Oriental consort, many Chinese did not take favorably to her as Bruces wife because she was Occidental. Of greater importance, however, was that, coupled with Bruces unpredictable emotional outbursts, his scandalous lifestyle began to take a heavy toll on the Lee household. Every morning Linda dreaded reading the newspaper for fear of being confronted with the latest headlines of her husbands romantic liaisons, his acts of violence, and other scurrilous escapades, all of which the Lee children were also being subjected to. But the all-encompassing issue in mid-July 1973 was that Bruce Lee, his star now cresting toward its zenith, was returning to the west, and his departing, in-your-face message was Dont call me, Ill call you.
Did this mean that he had ordered Raymond to close up shop? Days earlier Bruce had publicly stated he was through making martial arts films. And what was Betty Ting, the bereaved mistress, to do? If a divorce were imminent, what would become of the children? Without Bruce, Brandon and Shannon were all Linda had. And then there was Wu Ngan, Bruces trusted childhood friend and servant. What would become of him? Would he continue as the perpetual houseguest, or was he to be left behind in Hong Kong to once again fend for himself? And what about the triads? Were they owed money? Would there be some sort of severance payment? Perhaps they might be disposed to making an example of Bruce? And what about all the other enemies Bruce was rumored to have made? Would any of them be inclined to settle up before Bruce packed his suitcase and bid sayonara to the east? Far too many grave questions with too few answers. While awaiting his one-way flight back to the states, Bruce grew increasingly anxious.
Raymond Chow, fearful that he was losing his million-dollar star and in a state of desperation, drove to Cumberland Road to plead with Bruce to stay in business. Besides Bruce having stated both publicly and privately that he was returning to the U.S. to work for the majors in Hollywood, the two men had for months been arguing over the business end of The Way of the Dragon. To begin with, it was well known that Bruce was upset over Raymond having made distribution deals without first discussing it with him. Second and far worse was the problem that Concord had reported to the press that the film was a smash hit, and yet the company's cash revenues didn't equate with its reported box-office receipts. If there is any substance to the notion of triad involvement in The Way of the Dragon, the triad kingpins would have wanted an explanation of what surely would have appeared to be two sets of books. Coincidentally, it was around this time that Bruce's brother Peter began making public statements about Bruce growing suspicious that Raymond had not been giving him a fair box-office accounting of The Way of the Dragon. In any event, one could surmise that with Bruce's plans to return to the United States, any problem concerning the triads, if there indeed was one, was being dumped solely in Raymond's lap.
For the past twenty-nine years many people have questioned why Cumberland Road had suddenly and curiously turned into a ghost town on July 20, 1973. Normally the Lee house was akin to Grand Central Station, what with being home to two large families and with a backyard often overrun with children. So the obvious question is where was everyone? Linda claims to have gone to lunch with Rebu Hui, the wife pop singer Sam Hui. Besides Linda, where was Wu Ngan? And where was Ngan's wife? Also gone? Who was watching all the children? Gone, too? The point is, where were all these people who could have verified the events of that afternoon? Their collective absence just sounds all too convenient. As to the real reason behind Raymond Chow's appearance at Cumberland Road that day, the answer is probably known only to Raymond Chow, Linda Lee, Rebu Hui, Betty Ting, and probably Wu Ngan. All things considered, what seems certain is that something went on that day at Cumberland Road that no one wants to talk about. And whatever it is, it would appear that, among other things, twenty-seven years ago it made Lee's house servant Wu Ngan a very rich man.
Upon their arrival at Betty's, Raymond accompanied Bruce inside for a short time, apparently just long enough to finish a soft drink, and then left, after reiterating that he hoped Bruce and Betty would be able to join him and Lazenby later for dinner. Bruce and Betty were now alone. What happened next was what had been happening for months. Bruce got high on marijuana, and perhaps other drugs, and ended up with Betty in her bedroom where they may or may not have made love. Several hours elapsed, and they probably either passed out or fell asleep, most likely having unplugged the phone. At the inquest, Betty's sworn testimony was that from the time she first gave Bruce the single tablet of Equagesic until approximately four hours later when she discovered him in a coma she had remained alone in the living room watching television. Yes, that was her testimony.
Around 7:30 that evening Betty was either awakened by Bruce convulsing or she awoke on her own to discover Bruce had lapsed into what she believed was a coma. She called Raymond at the Miramar Hotel where he was having dinner with Lazenby. It is at this point that Raymond and Betty have a fair chance of saving Bruce's life. Clearly there can be little doubt that Bruce is undergoing the same problem he had encountered on May 10. Baptist Hospital is only blocks away. Either Betty or Raymond can call an ambulance and have Bruce transported to Baptist where doctors, acutely familiar with Bruce's previous collapse, will instantly know to administer Mannitol, thus relieving the increasing cerebral-spinal fluid pressure in Bruce's brain. But neither Betty nor Raymond does that. Instead, Raymond spends twenty minutes driving over to Betty's apartment through a raging storm. Upon his arrival, Betty again informs Raymond that she cannot awaken Bruce, even by slapping his face. Although Raymond thinks Bruce looks normal, he can't awaken him either. Does he call an ambulance, knowing what happened to Bruce on May 10? No. What does he do? He slaps Bruce around and shakes him violently for ten minutes! Failing to awaken Bruce, does he then call an ambulance? No. He calls Betty's personal physician, Dr. Chu Pho-hwye.
Chu's line is busy, but Raymond keeps trying and finally gets through. As unbelievable as it sounds, on May 10 at Golden Harvest Studios, Chow found himself in practically this same predicament. There was the ticking clock pitted against Bruce in a fight for his life, and Raymond Chow calling over to Baptist asking to talk with a physician. Another twenty minutes elapse while Dr. Chu drives over to Betty's. Does Chu call an ambulance? No. What does he do? He slaps Bruce around for ten minutes and at some point begins to have difficulty finding a pulse! Finally Chu decides to have Bruce transported to a hospital. Baptist Hospital is just a few short blocks away. Does Dr. Chu order Bruce rushed to Baptist? No. He has the ambulance driver transport him clear across town to Queen Elizabeth Hospital where Bruce is pronounced dead on arrival.
As a footnote to this Gothic horror story, when Brian Tisdall, who was Linda Lee's Hong Kong attorney and represented her at the inquest, asked Dr. Chu why he had not sent Bruce to Baptist Hospital instead of Queen Elizabeth, Chu testified: "Bruce Lee deeply comatose, pulse not acceptable, no respiration, pupils not fully dilated. When he did not show any sings of improvement, it did not occur to me that time was of great importance." One can hardly believe such an outrageous statement was offered in defense of what would appear at face value to be an act of gross and unconscionable malpractice. So there is something wrong here. The problem is that Dr. Chu's testimony left out one vital fact, if for no other reason than no one ever asked. Recall that Raymond Chow testified that upon his arrival at Betty's it appeared to him that Bruce looked perfectly normal. When Bruce arrived at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival, his face was swollen like a watermelon. Now if Raymond Chow is telling the truth, then one has to question when exactly did Bruce's face become swollen? If Bruce looked normal to Raymond prior to being taken from Betty's in an ambulance, and he was dead on arrival at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, then the grotesque swelling of Bruce's face could have only occurred during the twenty-minute ambulance ride to the hospital. In order for this to have occurred, Bruce's heart would have had to be beating. This, however, did not occur because according to Dr. Chu's testimony Bruce did not have a pulse. That's a pretty serious matter, isn't it? Not having a pulse? Add to that the fact that Bruce wasn't breathing and that his pupils weren't dilating and one has to question why Dr. Chu didn't immediately start pounding on Bruce's chest while either Raymond or Betty breathed air into his lungs? The answer is obvious. The important testimony that Dr. Chu could have given had someone asked was that when Dr. Chu arrived at Betty's, Bruce Lee was already dead and had been for some time.
Technically Bruce Lee did not hold title to 41 Cumberland Road. Title was held by Lo Yuen Enterprises, Ltd. The real question, however, is whether Wu Ngan actually knew this, or was he under another assumption? In either case, although according to corporate records Wu Ngan was a shareholder and one of the directors of Lo Yuen, when the house was sold for cash in August 1974, the entire proceeds went unchallenged to Linda Lee.
At the time of his death, Bruce had very little money, and Wu Ngan must have had considerably less or he wouldn't be the servant. So why haven't we heard from the man who not only lived with Bruce as a child and appeared with him in his movies and on Hong Kong television, but also lived with him during the adult years when Bruce Lee became a national hero? There was money to be made here. Why hasn't Mr. Wu cashed in on his share? Maybe he already did and just didn't tell anyone. Perhaps the answer lies in the payment of US$55,000 (in 1968 equal to the full purchase price of Lee's Bel Air home and in 2002 the equivalent to over US$400,000!) in the form of a personal loan from Linda Lee to Wu Ngan a short time after Bruce died. The note was drafted by the Hong Kong attorneys for the Estate of Bruce Lee and earmarked for use at a future date. A year later, upon Linda Lee's acquisition of the money, the note was signed on July 21, 1975 and then recorded the following morning. Although there was never a date listed as to when the note would become due, the interest rate was 8 percent together with expenses and costs incurred in connection with the drafting or enforcement of the note. When a year later the Inland Island Revenue (Hong Kong's version of the IRS) billed Linda Lee for the interest she would have received from Wu Ngan on the above referenced note, she responded by stating that she had not received any money from Mr. Wu and then promptly amended the note's interest rate to zero. What is highly disturbing about this entire matter is that during this period, Linda was having a difficult time qualifying for an American Express card and bank loan, and was living on the financial edge due to her ongoing war with Raymond Chow. At its best case scenario, this entire mater just smacks of criminal extortion.
Undoubtedly the mysterious Wu Ngan had countless stories to tell. Then again, perhaps Wu Ngan was operating as a go-between? It's a curious sum, isn't it? Fifty-five thousand? Fifty thousand is a much tidier principal figure, with the additional $5,000 as a tidy 10 percent fee? For the record, based on an extensive worldwide investigative search for Wu Ngan, for all intents and purposes it would appear that Lee's mysterious butler has long since vanished into thin air. And, no, not one cent of the "loan" was ever repaid. The elusive Wu Ngan wasn't the only player to have suddenly departed Hong Kong in the wake of Bruce's death. In fact, Bobby Baker may well have taken the same flight. You remember Baker, lee's international gofer slash bodyguard. One can only imagine what Baker may have known. As fate would have it, he was in Hong Kong on the day Bruce died. And like Wu, Baker "borrowed" money from Linda Lee on his way out of town. HK$10,000 to be exact, advanced to him by Linda in the form of a personal loan. Only with Baker, there was no one year waiting period as there was with Wu Ngan, and Linda was forced to plead for the money from Raymond Chow within days of her husband's death. Again, for the record, Baker never paid back one nickel of the loan, and like Wu Ngan, Linda never heard from him again.
Although there is no record of Bruce having applied for life insurance before February 1973, it was learned after his death that his life had recently been insured under three separate policies. The first policy was through the Screen Actors Guild, of which Bruce was a member. In 1973 the policy paid a single death benefit of $5,000. No one has ever raised any question about this coverage, nor should they have. The second policy, taken out through American International Assurance Company (AIA), which is a private limited company based in Singapore, was for US$200,000 (US$2,600,000 in 2003) and covered a period of five years from 2/1/73 to 1/31/78. The beneficiary was listed as "Linda Emery Lee if living, otherwise Brandon Bruce Lee and Shannon Emery Lee, children of the deceased, in the share of one-half each." In addition to there being some question whether Bruce was ever aware of the AIA policy, it is important to note that in April 1973 Bruce had listed on his federal income tax his total earnings at a mere $17,000. That the AIA policy had been applied for less than six months before Bruce's death was curious enough. That a third policy (requested by Linda on April 30, 1973) through Lloyds of London for a staggering US$1,350,000 (US$17,500,000 in 2003) was issued ninety days later was patently alarming. This brought the total life insurance to over a million and a half U.S. dollars. To put this in perspective, today this would be equivalent to nearly $20,000,000 of life insurance on a man with very little equity in his house and a total cash worth just over $200,000. The date upon which all three life insurance policies were in place was May 5, 1973.
Who exactly had ordered all this life insurance? In reading the application form, it appeared that Bruce was unaware of the existence of the AIA policy when he was asked to fill out the application to Lloyds of London. After a thorough investigation, Marshall noted that it appeared that Raymond Chow might have been the one who ordered the AIA policy. Did this mean that Chow was responsible for the double indemnity? And whose idea was the $1.5-million? On the initial proposal form both the date and amount of insurance were missing. Why was this? And had anyone at Lloyds mentioned the nonpayment clause for death resulting from the insureds own criminal act? It had been ruled that Bruce had died from taking Equagesic, which was a prescription drug to which he did not have a prescription. Could this have been viewed as a criminal act? Lloyds hadnt mentioned it. Perhaps they hadnt even seen it. Most peculiar of all, there was no record anywhere showing who exactly had paid for the first premium of HK$15,444 (US$3,285) on the Lloyds policy. Clearly Bruce hadnt paid it. Upon delving further into the matter, Marshall discovered that no one had paid it! Following three days of panic, Marshall came upon a fine-line technicality in the policy, which stated that the insured had paid or agreed to pay the initial premium. Subsequently, the premium was promptly submitted to Lloyds through Lo Yuen Enterprises.