The Chronicles of Chow King Leong & His Family

Page 9

In August 1930, the family sailed to China on the Japanese steamship, the “Asama Maru”. In Honolulu, where the ship docked for a day, we were met by the Wong Family. Mr. Wong and his son, Richard, had hired two touring limousines preparing to give us a warm reception. A lasting impression of the deluxe tour was the visit to the Dole pineapple plant, in all probability, because we could drink all the juice we wanted to and we did.
In Yokahama, Japan, we experienced our first earthquake, a rather sizable one, perhaps a 5.5 on the Richter scale. We were in a restaurant on the second floor, finishing eating dinner, when it happened. The building swayed and vibrated, stopped for a moment and then the tremor commenced again. When the quake eventually stopped we retreated to the ship.
Shanghai, China, was the last stop before debarkation.

Aboard the Asama Maru, on the way to China, 1930 Click to view larger

At the wharf, crowds of young children competed with each other for our attention, waving and hollering in Pigeon English. The pier had the atmosphere of a circus arena – jugglers, tumblers, contortionists, all performing at break-neck speed, skillfully, artistically and electrifying the passengers on deck. We had been reminded by relatives and friends at home to buy the “Thousand Year Eggs”, a noted product of Shanghai, relished and appreciated by all in China. When we returned aboard ship, each of us was carrying a basket of the delicacy.
Uncle Wing Him Lum and his family had preceded us a year before and now they were at the dock in Hong Kong to receive us. Overcome at the sight of our cousins who we have missed for a year, we rushed down the gang plank carrying the baskets of eggs. Unfamiliar with the ways of sneaks and tricksters, naively and gently, we set down our baskets to greet our cousins. When next we looked, all of the baskets of eggs had disappeared. That was our first lesson in the art of high-jacking and light-fingered thieving – but it would not be the last.
Among the unforgettable events which took place in China, a more dramatic one occurred while we were in our village celebrating cousin Ying Lum’s wedding to Chan Yoke Lum. As was the custom, all the kinfolks gathered at the ancestral home of the bridegroom to pray and to give thanks to the gods. Before the Revolution in 1949, banditry was very much in vogue and overseas Chinese were special targets for kidnapping for ransom. When word got out that the wedding celebrants were from America, the village fathers took measures to step up security. Guards were stationed around the compound and lookouts were posted on the roof. The night before we were to depart for Guangzhou city, it happened. The sound of gongs clanging, symbols clashing and drums beating signaled the arrival of the roving thugs. Unwittingly, they made a dash into the compound belonging to the Chang family next door. Whatever the aftermath was, we didn’t stop to find out. Herding the young ones together, the adults guided and silently moved the group quickly down to the river boats. It was a narrow escape. The family did not attempt again to go into the village as a body. Being the bold one, Lau Yung did return to her own village one more time after the abortive abduction. Knowing it may be ages before she would return again to her homeland, she decided to incur the risk against the wishes of the male members of the family. Hiding her hair under a knitted cap and dressed inconspicuously in peasant clothes, she succeeded in doing her thing. She was jubilant and her heart was set at ease.
After an absence of ten months, the family returned to the United States, leaving behind Lee and Andrew, the two youngest boys to pursue the study of Chinese. Instead of seven passengers boarding the S.S. President Cleveland for the return home, there were ten of us, an additional three; Mrs. Moy Kwok Fong, wife of the pastor of the Chinese Baptist Church; Anita, her oldest daughter and Gong Jing, her oldest son. After the trip to China, or maybe because of it, Lau Yung’s asthmatic condition improved immensely and the reason for moving to Oakland merited less consideration. The greater focus on her husband’s safety crossing the bay in the fog nightly became uppermost in her mind, and the decision to move back to the city was made. At the same time, Lee and Andrew were recalled home as Japan’s invasion of China was intensifying with war imminent. Chow King bought a four unit building on Washington Street to which we referred as twelve-thirty-five. As the family expanded, first with Willie’s marriage to Anita Moy, followed by Harry’s to Lucille Yee, it was necessary to occupy twelve-thirty-seven as well, making the two lower units as one, which became the family home.

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