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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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Tourism
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Yap Lai (入來): Come In!
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When the Chinese arrived en masse in the US in the mid-1800s, they pioneered communities in large cities, where they secured employment. Today, New York, Los Angeles, Oakland, and Vancouver boast Chinatowns with classic dim sum haunts and incense-burning temples.
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Of all the Chinatowns in North America, however, none is as old or dynamic as San Francisco’s. This one stands above the rest, steeped in history and saturated with tradition, food, art, and one-of-a-kind architecture. Bordered by the Financial District, North Beach, and Nob Hill, it rates among the top three most-frequented neighborhoods in the city, along with Union Square and Fisherman’s Wharf. For Chinese Americans, Chinatown represents a cultural rootstock; for travelers, a must-see icon.
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“The best way to visit is to be open and not be afraid to ask questions,” says guide Linda Lee, owner of All About Chinatown tours. “When you look at something in a store, go ahead and ask, ‘What is that?’ Do not hesitate to inquire about what makes you curious.”
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Absorbing in one day all there is to know about Chinatown is like trying to sip water from an open fire hydrant. Take a deep breath and go slowly; don’t miss the treasures surrounding you among the twenty blocks and forty-three alleyways. Upon entering, it’s apparent that this is not quite America, not quite China. The Sino-architecture is a concoction of what American architects and engineers dreamed of in the early 1900s. And although Chinatown was designed to be an “Oriental” city, building materials came from regional sources, and construction methods were based on Western techniques. Since then, designers and artists have added Chinese motifs to blend in so that the eye cannot distinguish between old and new.
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Although it appears ancient, the impressive Dragon Gate archway made its debut in 1970 after three Chinese Americans won a design competition. It is the only one in North America built according to Chinese gateway specifications, as it uses stone, not wood, from the base to the top. Close by, the red street lanterns on turquoise posts are the result of the Chinatown reconstruction after 1906. W. D’arcy Ryan, a prized illumination engineer, director of lighting at the 1915 Panama Pacific Exposition, gets credit for the design and implementation of the Chinoiserie street lamps detailed with dangling bells and slithering dragons.
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On a balcony on Grant Avenue, a line of Chinese stone warriors stands guard. They look as though they were pulled from the same archeological site as the famous terra cotta warriors of Xi’an, China. Yet these are silent new neighbors of circa 2015. Chinatown real estate maven Betty Louie commissioned these fellows from China, and they are made of lightweight fiberglass, not heavy stone.
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In the Portsmouth Square plaza, a ten-foot-tall bronze Goddess of Democracy statue raises a torch celebrating freedom and independence. It has become quite the landing spot for pigeons these days. She is one of ten replicas cast after the Goddess of Democracy statue that students created in Beijing, China, during the 1989 Tiananmen Square protest.
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One thread is apparent in the Chinatown of the twenty-first century: Chinatown is on the cusp of a new era. Faithful relatives such as Anna Au (pictured above) help out at the family business. In this case, it is a Chinese antique store on Grant Avenue. The destination is merging the new with the old as shopkeepers and restaurateurs retire and entrepreneurs set up businesses. You will find trendy boutiques next to fading jewelry stores, ancient landmarks and contemporary murals, traditional Cantonese fare and Asian nouvelle cuisine.
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The quintessential Chinatown day trip should start off with an overview of its history and culture. This is accomplished through visiting Chinatown museums and galleries. At the museum of the Chinese Historical Society of America, interactive exhibits cover Chinese immigration, early maps of Chinatown, and current issues facing Chinese Americans. The original architect behind this repurposed YWCA building was none other than the famous Julia Morgan, who designed Hearst Castle for newspaper baron William Randolph Hearst.
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Next, located in the Hilton Hotel, the Chinese Culture Center of San Francisco gives you a pulse on the creative minds of Asian American and overseas Chinese artists. And the one-room art gallery called 41 Ross curates themes often related to Chinatown. If you want to dive deep into this neighborhood, venture into the Chinatown Visitor’s Center on Kearny Street and book a tour.
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As you wander Grant Avenue’s souvenir stores, you’ll find yourself stuck in a time warp. You recognize the same bamboo backscratcher found perched on your grandmother’s nightstand. That Chinatown Kite Shop where your dad purchased your first kite in the 1970s? Yes, it’s there after half a century. In curio shops, those rice paddy hats and faux-jade Buddhas seem so out of date, yet Chinatown wouldn’t be Chinatown without them.
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Immerse yourself in the Chinatown lifestyle by eating where the locals eat and ordering what they order. The enclave is, and has always been, tantamount to one big food hall. Each bite tastes different than dishes in Asia, because certain produce is not grown overseas. Some classic entrees in Chinatown are probably not even on menus in Beijing or Shanghai.
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In early Chinatown, hole-in-the-wall joints proliferated with peasant cooks whipping up home-style Cantonese meals. They invented chop suey and egg foo yung to cater to Western tastes. Restaurant owners later offered American and Chinese fare, so it was common for spaghetti and meatballs and wonton soup to be listed on the same menu.
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Anyone who has been here will tell you that service can be, well, sketchy. Waitresses ask patrons to sit with strangers to make room for others. Waiters sometimes demand a higher tip after guests have paid the bill. In Cantonese culture, bluntness, not courtesy, is standard. After all, customer service has never been a Confucian value. Diners should be prepared not to get offended. The oldest eatery in Chinatown is tiny Sam Wo, built after the 1906 earthquake and notorious for Edsel Ford Fung, dubbed the world’s rudest waiter. He told customers they were fat or ugly. Other times, he forced them to take his place and serve meals to other guests. This waiter, who passed away in 1984, was so popular that tourists wanted him to be their server. Now that he is gone, the noodle shop posts photos and articles about Edsel on the walls.
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Meanwhile, dim sum teahouses remain a staple, but the rolling carts carrying steamed savories and sweets are harder to find. However, at New Asia (which is no longer new) and City View (which has no view), workers veer carts between tables as customers work up the courage to try the black bean tripe and sautéed chicken feet, toenails and all.
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Of late, younger chefs are bringing polished techniques from culinary school. The glamorous, four-story China Live and Michelin-starred Mr. Jiu’s are two players upping the ante in Chinese cuisine. Both opened after 2015 with high-end menus, innovative takes on Chinese flavors, and luxurious interiors. Kathy Fang (pictured holding the white dish above), who grew up helping at her parents’ Chinatown business, House of Nanking, started FANG restaurant near the financial district. Kathy represents the emerging guard of Chinese American chefs committed to incorporating local ingredients (think portabella mushrooms) into innovative dishes.
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Restaurateurs from other regions of China, not just Guangdong, have expanded people’s palates with Hunan and Szechuan dishes. You can thank revered restaurateur Cecelia Chiang for that. The hundred-year-old matriarch of fine Chinese dining introduced pot stickers, tea-smoked duck, and minced squab in lettuce leaves to a world completely unfamiliar with these items in 1968. Dubbed the Julia Child of Chinese cooking, she opened the elegant Mandarin Restaurant in Ghirardelli Square, exposing patrons to northern Chinese flavors and entrees. In addition to Chinese fare, foodies who look hard enough can locate Japanese, Thai, Vietnamese, and Korean cuisine mingled throughout Chinatown.
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Aromatic bakeries on every street tout treats relying on recipes used for over a century. If you see no prices or labels, the best way to communicate is to point. Most popular are custard tarts, lotus bean cakes, and sesame balls. Asian desserts are generally less sugary than American ones, and use ingredients such as rice flour and various beans for filling.
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Newer entrants to the snack scene include Dragon's Beard candy, handmade in only a couple of places in the US. In the window of Dragon Papa Desserts on Grant Avenue, owner Derek Tam labors to create the Dragon's Beard, an ancient sweet created for China royalty. In this ballet of the arms, he stretches a hockey puck of dark molasses into thousands of delicious, delicate white threads later mixed with chopped peanuts or other toppings. These strands form the dragon beard appearing on the customers’ chins upon consumption.
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Since its inception, Chinatown has welcomed young and old, poor and rich, anonymous and famous. Kung fu legend Bruce Lee was born at the Chinese Hospital in 1940, and there’s a plaque in the lobby in his honor. John Lennon and Ringo Starr escaped for a late-night drink at the Ricksha nightclub during the kickoff of the Beatles’ American concerts in 1964.
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Today, anyone can find a reason to come to Chinatown. First-timers learn to use chopsticks while regulars scan delis, searching for thick strips of char siu, barbecued pork. Next time you visit, poke around the alleyways. Read the fine print under the landmarks. Converse with a tea merchant. This community is eager to be relevant to a new generation. As it says in Chinese on the Dragon Gate arch, “All under heaven is for the good of the people.”