Bedtime stories about Ping On

I'm writing this post for a few reasons. First Lai Chan gave me an old photo. I look almost exactly like Jonah, I am at an protest for Oak street, and there is a sign hung around my neck that says, "My Mommy needs Oak Street for English Classes." My mother, born and raised in Philadelphia, who told people she was of German-Irish descent, because that's what she looked like, and who hid that she was Polish (because that was not cool in her neighborhood growing up) and who by death bed confession from Great grandmother found out she was French (the horror! {sarcasm}) did not need English classes. In fact for a woman of her time she was quite educated. She was a chemist before the periodic table had been filled out.
My father, who was partial owner in a gambling house until "too many people won." did not speak English very well. And I don't think he was going to any classes. By the time the picture I was looking at was taken however, he had already passed away. But when people saw my white face with a hint of slant at the eyes, the sign around my neck was what made sense.
So that's the first thing.
The second thing is there was an article in the news yesterday. It was about a white guy who was part of a Chinatown gang. The person writing the article said that this was a difficult thing to accomplish because Chinatown, which is in Boston, which is in America, was a closed society unto itself and that it would be difficult for a white person (like my mother?) to be a part of it.
Finally, the article also had the words Ping On and the word notorious next to each other.
When I first heard these two words together on the street, I cringed inwardly. Because after my father died among the many bedtime stories about the Hobbit, or Robin Hood, their were sprinkled family history, about her, my dad, and also about her travels and my other relatives in Philadelphia. My dad was part of Ping On, before it got "taken down" by the FBI. In fact my mother worked in one of the clubs that was opened by it's members and she spoke a little Chinese. Enough that one time a schmuck of an FBI agent started talking to her and tried to get her to be an informant. He was saying this inside the club, and gave her his card. He only saw a white woman working in this club. He probably didn't realize she was with my dad. She took his card and told one of the brothers (not the blood kind, the other kind) what had happened. He replied by saying, "Oh yeah give him my card I'll tell him if I see any criminal activity." This particular brother was a felon. An example my mom gave was one time she was helping him and this other woman set up a house. Move furniture around etc. She noticed the woman, a Korean American from Providence who my mom didn't really know seemed to keep touching and adjusting herself and didn't really seem to care that there were other people in the room. My mom thought that was odd. Later she realized that the woman was a prostitute and that she had just set up a temporary brothel.
Was my mom part of this world? Not really. At least she didn't feel so. She complained that they never let her into the gambling halls. No women allowed. But she knew of another woman that was allowed in there to gamble. When she said this to my dad he would say something along the lines of "that's different." My mom felt left out. Not that she wanted to gamble. Just that she wanted to be part of the club. For the same reason she was mad that as a girl her Uncle would take her brother to the boxing fights in Philadelphia, but she never got to go.
Did my dad get in trouble with the police? My mom says that about once a week, walking home she would see Baba in the back of a patty wagon because the police had raided the gambling house (usually without warrants or for whatever reason it always came to nothing) It just meant that he would be late getting home.
"If you're son ever has to see you in the back of a wagon like this!.. " well so that "job" stopped. Sort of.
She would tell me about how the Ping On kids used to do lion dance on new years but just banged on the drum and didn't even have a head and had shirts with the words "Ping On" on it in big English letters and that my Dad made them take the shirts off before the Police saw and scolded them about it. She told me about how those kids used to regularly borrow her van, having gotten permission from my Dad. But then when they came to her she would yell at them because whatever they went and did with that van, they never filled the gas tank back up. So they would run back and fort between my dad at the gambling house and my mom at the apartment asking one and then the other.
But most of all she would tell me about the time the electricity went off in Chinatown for two weeks. The police wouldn't come to Chinatown. So "Ping On" had people stand outside the businesses to make sure there was no looting. She would then say she saved the articles that demonized the gang, and while she was sure there were terrible crimes committed, people killed, that that wasn't the whole story. The way my mom told it,my dad and others like him were like the Knights of the Round table. Propaganda to boost my youthful opinion of my late father to be sure. But still, I thought I would share it.
"With working at the restaurant and the money coming in form the gambling your dad almost made as much as a white guy." She said.
And then when the gang was "taken down" my mom said she saw the same people on the street, doing the same things, just using a different name. So that FBI take down was all for show to boost a few egos of some young agents but they didn't actually accomplish anything.
Is Chinatown better now? yes. But not because of one big take down. Chinatown is better now because more white people, more white women, and more asians with money live in it. At first my mother viewed gentrification and the building of University Campuses right in Chinatown with suspicion too. But the results were, students walking around which made for safer and friendlier streets. But more about that later.