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Rise of the At-Risk Chinatown
(photos: police officer; Goddess of Democracy statue; Comfort Women statues)
In the 1970s, non-profits were empowering Chinatown residents to speak up. It was a crucial time. Self-Help for the Elderly, On Lok senior services, the Youth Services Center, and the Chinatown Community Development Center, still thriving today, mobilized and educated its citizens. The ensuing decades saw the end of the Chinese gangs as law enforcement stepped up with the Gang Task Force. When the gangs dissipated, thieves (not of Asian descent) from adjacent neighborhoods started attacking elderly grandmothers also referred to as “walking ATMS.” Thugs would follow an old woman exiting from a bank and demand the cash from her purse. The San Francisco Police Department intervened and wisely added a few bilingual Chinese officers on the force. Over time, the SFPD built relationships and trust with the locals so they would not feel hesitant to report such crimes.
In the 1980s and until the close of the 20th century, this historic enclave would weather more trials. Newer and trendier Asian shopping centers around the Bay Area gave local Chinese fewer reasons to visit. The Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989 collapsed the Embarcadero freeway artery that spilled into the community. The loss of this central route made it horribly inconvenient for customers to drive into the neighborhood, so they went elsewhere. Various merchants reported plummeting sales of 30 to 50 percent and higher. To make matters worse, the popularity of the Internet meant that anything offered in a Chinatown souvenir shop could be purchased online.
Newspapers labelled the area no longer relevant, but Chinatown soldiered on. Restaurants changed hands. Children of elderly shop owners took the reins out of paternal obligation. Landlords, retirement-ready, sold Chinatown’s commercial and residential interests to the highest bidder. Although family associations, politicians, and non-profits chimed in with different plans on what to do next, one thing was certain: Chinatown had to change to survive.
In the next decade, Chinatown boldly asserted itself. Chinatown sculptures would take social-political stands. At Portsmouth Square, the torch-wielding Goddess of Democracy looks oddly familiar. Dedicated in 1994, the bronze replica is based on the statue created during the 1989 Tiananmen Square student protest in China. At St. Mary’s Square, the Comfort Women memorial shows three young women, representing the Philippines, Korea, and China, holding hands as an elderly Asian woman helplessly looks on. The statue honors the tens of thousands of women forced into sex slavery to serve the Japanese soldiers before and during WWII.
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Rise of the At-Risk Chinatown
(photos: police officer; Goddess of Democracy statue; Comfort Women statues)
In the 1970s, non-profits were empowering Chinatown residents to speak up. It was a crucial time. Self-Help for the Elderly, On Lok senior services, the Youth Services Center, and the Chinatown Community Development Center, still thriving today, mobilized and educated its citizens. The ensuing decades saw the end of the Chinese gangs as law enforcement stepped up with the Gang Task Force. When the gangs dissipated, thieves (not of Asian descent) from adjacent neighborhoods started attacking elderly grandmothers also referred to as “walking ATMS.” Thugs would follow an old woman exiting from a bank and demand the cash from her purse. The San Francisco Police Department intervened and wisely added a few bilingual Chinese officers on the force. Over time, the SFPD built relationships and trust with the locals so they would not feel hesitant to report such crimes.
In the 1980s and until the close of the 20th century, this historic enclave would weather more trials. Newer and trendier Asian shopping centers around the Bay Area gave local Chinese fewer reasons to visit. The Loma Prieta earthquake of 1989 collapsed the Embarcadero freeway artery that spilled into the community. The loss of this central route made it horribly inconvenient for customers to drive into the neighborhood, so they went elsewhere. Various merchants reported plummeting sales of 30 to 50 percent and higher. To make matters worse, the popularity of the Internet meant that anything offered in a Chinatown souvenir shop could be purchased online.
Newspapers labelled the area no longer relevant, but Chinatown soldiered on. Restaurants changed hands. Children of elderly shop owners took the reins out of paternal obligation. Landlords, retirement-ready, sold Chinatown’s commercial and residential interests to the highest bidder. Although family associations, politicians, and non-profits chimed in with different plans on what to do next, one thing was certain: Chinatown had to change to survive.
In the next decade, Chinatown boldly asserted itself. Chinatown sculptures would take social-political stands. At Portsmouth Square, the torch-wielding Goddess of Democracy looks oddly familiar. Dedicated in 1994, the bronze replica is based on the statue created during the 1989 Tiananmen Square student protest in China. At St. Mary’s Square, the Comfort Women memorial shows three young women, representing the Philippines, Korea, and China, holding hands as an elderly Asian woman helplessly looks on. The statue honors the tens of thousands of women forced into sex slavery to serve the Japanese soldiers before and during WWII.
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Rise of the American Born Chinese
(photos: Grant Avenue follies dancers; Sun Yat-sen statue)
Freely embracing American culture, Chinese entered the entertainment business. Chinese American nightclubs sprang up in Chinatown and on the outskirts with Chinese crooners whose voices reminded guests of Frank Sinatra. The most illustrious, the Forbidden City, boasted dancing and variety shows until the wee hours. Hollywood’s top stars, including comedian Bob Hope and movie star Ronald Reagan, flocked to see tuxedo-ed singers, costumed dancers, female impersonators, and comics who entertained in perfect English.
Shows mirrored the American stage and Silver Screen -- Larry Chan was billed as the Chinese Bing Crosby; dance team Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing were the equivalent of an Asian Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers; Colleen Li Tei Ming sang Irish ballads. The Forbidden City was so popular that non-Chinese clamored to showcase their talents by taking on Chinese stage names. The glory days, from the 1930s to 1960s, delivered four decades of rare memories for artists and patrons.
Meanwhile, Chinese immigrants were keeping close tabs on their beloved homeland. Dr. Sun Yat-Sen, founder of the Kuomintang political party with a pro-democracy platform, won supporters in Chinatown. He was so revered that the Chinese in San Francisco and many other U.S. cities freely gave funds to his cause to overthrow ancient dynastic rule. In honor of the first president of the Republic of China and Dr. Sun Yat-Sen’s visit to San Francisco, businesses commissioned a statue of him in 1938, which still stands today in St. Mary’s Square on California Street.
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Rise of the American Born Chinese
(photos: Grant Avenue follies dancers; Sun Yat-sen statue)
Freely embracing American culture, Chinese entered the entertainment business. Chinese American nightclubs sprang up in Chinatown and on the outskirts with Chinese crooners whose voices reminded guests of Frank Sinatra. The most illustrious, the Forbidden City, boasted dancing and variety shows until the wee hours. Hollywood’s top stars, including comedian Bob Hope and movie star Ronald Reagan, flocked to see tuxedo-ed singers, costumed dancers, female impersonators, and comics who entertained in perfect English.
Shows mirrored the American stage and Silver Screen -- Larry Chan was billed as the Chinese Bing Crosby; dance team Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing were the equivalent of an Asian Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers; Colleen Li Tei Ming sang Irish ballads. The Forbidden City was so popular that non-Chinese clamored to showcase their talents by taking on Chinese stage names. The glory days, from the 1930s to 1960s, delivered four decades of rare memories for artists and patrons.
Meanwhile, Chinese immigrants were keeping close tabs on their beloved homeland. Dr. Sun Yat-Sen, founder of the Kuomintang political party with a pro-democracy platform, won supporters in Chinatown. He was so revered that the Chinese in San Francisco and many other U.S. cities freely gave funds to his cause to overthrow ancient dynastic rule. In honor of the first president of the Republic of China and Dr. Sun Yat-Sen’s visit to San Francisco, businesses commissioned a statue of him in 1938, which still stands today in St. Mary’s Square on California Street.
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Norman Fong
Norman. Norman. Norman. Rock musician. Ordained minister. Elder champion. Affordable housing crusader.
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Sixty-something Norman Fong, the former executive director of the Chinatown Community Development Center knows what it is like to be nearly homeless. The third-generation Chinatown kid grew up with his three siblings under the protective wing of both parents. Norman’s mother was born and raised in Chinatown in 1919. That same year, his father, who was older, came through Angel Island during the era of the Chinese Exclusion Act.
Young Norman would always regard his mom as a woman who was as tough as nails and deep in faith. But, as the story goes, one day, Norman (a teenager at the time) came home from school and saw his mother shaking with a letter in hand. The letter was a notice of eviction from the landlord.
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In 30 days, the family would be required to leave the little apartment they called home for 18 years. When he told the youth group staff at the Donaldina Cameron House, they sprung to action and helped to relocate them into another apartment so they were never homeless for a single day.
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Events such as these have shaped Norman’s attitude and outlook. When he was a child, older Chinese adults would tell Norman repeatedly never to venture outside Chinatown or he might get beat up. So what did he do? His curiosity led him to meander past Columbus Avenue beyond the quarter’s invisible borders into the Italian neighborhood of North Beach. And yes, those legends were true. A gang of tough high school boys tied him to a fence and hurled water balloons at him until he was soaked to the bone. The humiliation resulted in a trauma that would sear him for a lifetime, but would be used as a turnaround tale for the good of the community.
Years later when he was deputy director of the CCDC, he told the bullying story to the North Beach leaders and merchants who were embarrassed and humbled after listening to him. But he offered an olive branch between Chinatown and North Beach and challenged both communities to a contest, a contest to see which had the best noodle or pasta dish. It actually came down to a Noodle Fest in 2010 where judges would vote for the best Chinese noodle and best Italian pasta dish to keep everything friendly. “My dream was to get the cultures to get along better, set a model of collaboration on what we have in common rather than what divides us,” he said earlier in an interview with the San Francisco Chronicle.
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Norman admits that he could have become negative and bitter and chosen a life in the bad lane. He was, after all, somewhat of a rascal. In the 1960s, as a child, Norman attended Chinese classes at his mother’s church every day after school and, more than once, got into trouble for “mouthing off.” He recalls, “One time, my friend and I talked a little too much. The principal often wacked our hands with a ruler or feather stick, and this time my friend got hit so hard that the stick broke! I was next, ready to get hit, and the principal smiled and tapped my hand lightly saying ‘I know your mom who always comes to church’… Thanks Mom!”
Knowing that young people are capable of doing great things, in 1991 he launched the Adopt-an-Alleyway Youth Empowerment Project, a program where he challenged teens to serve the Chinese community in Chinatown rather than focus on being served. That campaign to clean up alleyways of Chinatown was a hit, and today, the City of San Francisco is involved in providing the funding and resources to make sure there is proper drainage, lighting, street cleaning, and plantings to make the alleys attractive and safe places to walk and live.
Up until his retirement, he has overseen over 34 single-renter occupancy properties in the CCDC portfolio, many in Chinatown, but also in North Beach, Tenderloin, South of Market districts and others. Collectively, the SROs house some 4,500 seniors, single adults, children and parents. The work he has achieved in keeping Chinatown a neighborhood that strives to support and maintain affordable housing is hailed by other communities in the country. Other urban centers want to emulate the CCDC model.
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His work has not gone unnoticed. In 2013, he received the White House Champion of Change award, given to select citizens making a difference in their communities.
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Then more recently in 2018, he was honored with the San Francisco Theological Seminary’s Distinguished Alumni Award. “Norman has demonstrated over the decades that church and society can work closely together in creating change,” says friend Rev. Harry Chuck, who put forth Norman’s name as a nominee.
CCDC’s former executive director still takes on gigs for his 50-year-old dance band Jest Jammin’, works with SRO apartment residents, and preaches at the Presbyterian Church in Chinatown. The guy appears indefatigable. “While Norman is close to what most would consider retirement age, he is still going strong,” Chuck says. “Hardly a week goes by when he doesn’t remind us of our own potential as Christ’s messengers of love and justice.”