Hatchet Men: The Story of the Tong Wars in San Francisco’s Chinatown (37 page)

But the police were stuck with Chin Poy and Wing Sing. New witnesses appeared to identify them as the killers. One man, D. S. Hutchings, repeated his story time after time without deviating; right up through the course of the trial his account never varied. Chief Crowley placed great faith in this witness. Hutchings’s story went as follows: “I was in Chinatown on the night of the shooting when Little Pete, otherwise known as Fong Ching, was killed. I saw the defendant [Wing Sing] standing in the door of the barbershop and heard the shots fired... As soon as the shooting was over, the defendant here ran by me. He had on a Chinese-made blouse with long sleeves... I did not see a pistol in his hand and did not see the flash of the shots. As soon as the shooting was over I started toward the barbershop and met this man Sing. He was wearing a fedora hat. There was another man with him, a Chinaman who also had on a fedora hat. [Hutchings never did positively identify the other man as Chin Poy.] When the shooting was finished, the defendant ran away rapidly.”

Hutchings was apparently an honest man. He told the court what he saw as he remembered it. He never did say he actually saw Wing in the act of shooting Pete, for all the coaxing he received in that direction. He refused to incriminate Chin Poy. But he did stress the point that Wing Sing was at the scene of the crime and that he had hurried away immediately after the shooting occurred. Hutchings had had a good vantage point on the northwest corner of Washington and Waverly when the murder was committed and when he saw Wing fleeing from the shop.

The fact that Wing and Chin Poy would hurry away from a shooting was not surprising. Hutchings admitted that practically everybody broke into a run in one direction or another when the shots were fired. He had done so himself. But the two suspects doggedly stuck to their story that they had not even left their lodging that evening. Special Officer Welch could add little information. He had followed two men in fedoras from the scene of the crime and had arrested the only two men in the rooming house who were wearing slouch hats.

Two more men, a Pullman porter named James Briggs and a dishwasher and bartender, James Daly, then came forth to corroborate Hutchings’s testimony. During the trial both Daly and Briggs were able to single out Wing Sing from the numerous Chinese in the courtroom, as the man they had seen fleeing the murder scene. But when Counsel Murphy asked Daly if he had actually seen pistols in the men’s hands he admitted that he had not. He said their hands were concealed by the sleeves of their blouses. “Then, how do you know that one of them dropped a pistol?” asked Murphy. “Because I saw it dropped. The man in front—the smaller of the two—dropped it.” The defense scored by weakening Daly’s testimony at this juncture. Two brothers, Edward and Charles Johnseon, were called as surprise witnesses. They made it clear to the jury that Daly was remembering more and more as time wore on. Immediately after the murder he had said to them, “I was in Chinatown last night and if I had been five minutes earlier, I would have seen the shooting.”

Before the trial of Wing Sing and Chin Poy began, four other Chinese were arrested. The police collected a small arsenal from them—three knives, a cleaver, a .45 Colt, and two hatchets—but could not implicate them. Still another suspect was found in late January—Gee Pon Jin, a Suey Sing member with a reputation for recklessness. He was identified by another new witness, Frank Mason, as one of two men he had seen fleeing the barbershop as he emerged from Ross Alley to see what had happened after he heard the shots.

Crowley, who would have been content with one killer, now found himself with an embarrassment of riches. He had seven suspects. But not one of them was ever to be convicted of a part in the crime. The solution of the murder of Little Pete remains a mystery to this day.

The really hot suspect was never arrested. He was Big Jim. Although he was a See Yup and a social and business rival of Pete, he was thought by most people to have been friendly with him. But many, including Captain Thomas S. Duke of the police department, considered him the chief conspirator in the crime, if not the executioner. The press, on the other hand, felt the friendship between Little Pete and Big Jim to have been genuine and that Big Jim was not implicated. Guilty or not, Big Jim soon found himself in grave danger as a scapegoat at least. Rumor was that there was a price of $5,000 on his head immediately after Pete’s murder. On Wednesday, January 26, in fear for his life at the hands of Little Pete’s hatchet men, he fled the city, taking only his bodyguard along. He hid out on a farm near Fresno, but when word trickled into Fresno’s China Alley that there was $1,000 available for anyone who would do Big Jim in, he did not wait. He left the Fresno area on February 23, on the Oregon express. His departure, though hurried, was a well-kept secret, as he did a masterful job of covering his tracks. While he quietly converted his bulky cash into checks at two different banks—one for $50,000 and the other for $44,000—he let a story circulate that he was going to visit a Northern California mine in which he had an interest. Instead he went straight to Victoria with his white wife and family. There he caught a steamer for China and safety.

Both friends and rivals of Pete’s either fled town or secured bodyguards after his death. One of the former, Ung Hung—nicknamed the Russian—was warned of a $2,500 reward for his life. He had to die, it was said, because he knew too much about the murder. The Russian did not leave town but he did hire Tom Douglass, son of Police Captain Douglass, as his personal bodyguard. Another close friend of Pete’s, Sin Goon, learned that there was a $2,000 price on his head. Like the Russian, he hired a white gunman for a shield.

Just four days after Pete’s death the rumor swept Chinatown that Dong Gong, police interpreter and informant, had been shot to death. A later report had him only shot in the leg. When Sergeant Jesse Cook investigated he found Dong at home unharmed, but under guard. He was a frightened man. He never went out without his bodyguard and was seldom seen in the streets in the future.

While Dr. Morgan was performing the autopsy on Little Pete the Sam Yups were hurriedly holding a powwow. They met in the rooms of the Wah Ting San Fong tong at 820 Jackson Street. Couriers had sped throughout the Quarter to round up members for the strategy meeting. Soon the rooms were crowded. The conference lasted all night and ended with the declaration that some prominent See Yups would have to die to expiate the murder of Little Pete.

Meanwhile the rumor was spreading that Pete’s assassins were after Vice-Consul King Owyang. The latter, an old hand at being death-listed, smiled stoically when he heard of it.

More and more rumors rolled into the police department. Crowley was soon swamped with them: Pete had been murdered for accepting a $40,000 fee for destroying the See Yup Company, and had already been paid $10,000 on account; Vice-Consul Owyang had been backing him, as he had the Sam Yup Company; Pete was to have taken the Sam Yup Company from the defensive in the boycott and put it on the offensive. There were many more and there may have been a grain of truth in each. For one thing, a completely illegal raid reminiscent of the Chinatown squad’s savage forays had made a shambles of the See Yup Company headquarters before Pete’s death. The ax-wielding raiders had been led by a private eye named Ferdinand Callundan. The police had quickly arrested him but the See Yups were convinced that Pete, not Callundan, had brainstormed the raid. Whether he was guilty or not, Pete had found
chun hungs
posted with rewards for his head. But there had been no takers at the $1,000 price. The figure was doubled but without success. The price was upped to $3,000. This brought results. Pete was shot to death the next night.

Other stories noised abroad were that the Sam Yups had hired hatchet men to man the roofs of Chinatown after Pete’s death and to shoot down a policeman and see to it that the See Yups were blamed. This was a good story. It was so good that it was shortly revived, but with the roles reversed. This time the See Yups were said to be on the roofs and the Sam Yups destined for trouble. Another startling rumor was that certain highbinders were building up a cache of arms and ammunition in a Pacific Street basement. According to the tale, these underground stores were for the use of a subterranean army which would spring up should the
fan kwei
dare to interfere in the blood bath which would have to follow Pete’s murder. The police found this to be completely untrue.

Both the white community and Chinatown were of two minds over Little Pete’s passing. But it was a eulogy of sorts which
The Chinese Recorder
printed right after his death: “Little Pete, as he was commonly known, was the most famous man among us. He may have had his faults, and more than the average man, but his good qualities were more than sufficient to counterbalance the evil part of his nature. He has furnished more work to those in need than any man that can be named. When he had no work to give he furnished sustenance to the needy. The list of his bad traits does nowhere contain the word ‘miser.’ It is to be hoped that the police will succeed in catching the murderers and that they will meet with speedy punishment. It is not generally believed, however, that the two men under arrest are the guilty ones.”

But Crowley was not about to accept a Robin Hood characterization of Little Pete. He agreed more with the
Call
which said: “Little Pete had not been a credit to the city in which he lived.” And with the French language paper
l’Impartial
which stated that “characters of his stamp will not be missed.” Indeed, Crowley went far in damning Pete. He blamed him for
all
of the trouble in Chinatown since he had reached a position of power, saying:

Little Pete was unquestionably the cleverest Chinaman on the Pacific Coast and probably in the United States. He was a born organizer and was full of schemes and deviltry. Until his advent there were no highbinder societies or tongs and the Chinese were quiet, orderly and peaceable. He was the first to organize a tong and finally he had fifteen or sixteen of them at his command. They levied blackmail upon houses of ill fame and upon inoffensive merchants, and by that means Little Pete became a rich man.

He was at the bottom of every blackmailing scheme and held absolute power over the highbinders of Chinatown. Four years ago when Sergeant Price and his squad demolished the headquarters of the different tongs it was Little Pete who instigated the damage suits against me and the squad in the United States District Court because, as he said, it would deter me from any further attempts to repeat the dose. In that, Little Pete made a mistake and he came to recognize the fact.

Five years ago I prevailed upon the Six Companies to employ eight responsible Chinese to act as policemen, and each of the eight carried a tag signed by me, showing their authority. By that means I thought they would be able to keep the Six Companies and myself posted as to any proposed action of the highbinders to commit murder. I have found out my mistake, as they have been utterly useless, and I will ask the Six Companies to discontinue employing them.

It has always been the case that while there was an extra force of police in Chinatown there was no shooting, but as soon as the extra force was withdrawn trouble recommenced. I have about twenty men in Chinatown now and I will keep them there… till the present trouble blows over. I can do no more with the force at my command.

Crowley’s mention of Sergeant Price, who had earned the title the American Terror from the Chinese as a result of his ax raids, sent newsmen scurrying to him for interviews. Price had no reluctance to comment, and had his own ready prescription for ending the reign of terror in Chinatown:

I regard the situation here as most serious but do not look for any great trouble until after the funeral. I understand that the Sam Yup men have imported the most desperate rascals belonging to the highbinder tongs found in the interior and coast towns to carry on the feud. One thing is certain; there was a time when I knew every highbinder in Chinatown and where nearly every individual could be found. But I can’t now. The streets are filled with strange faces. At one time I arrested thirty-five men in one day and did not make a single mistake. I was always careful not to arrest innocent men and give cause for complaint. Why, once we smashed eight thousand dollars’ worth of property in breaking up a tong meeting. It was a long time before they dared to come together again. But, you see, all these clubs are incorporated now. That is what balks us in disturbing them. When we do manage to get through to where the rascals are playing forbidden games and hatching deviltry of all kinds, they have had plenty of time to start in on some innocent game. When the police leave they return to what they were doing before.

Give me men and I can break up these tongs in two days. No jury on earth would convict a man for taking summary action in stopping such a reign of terror. They never have in the past and they will not now.

Although the large damage suits for the earlier raids were still pending in United States’ courts, Crowley gave Price the men he needed. The latter embarked on a new series of tong raids with the usual destruction of josses and furniture. First to be destroyed was the headquarters of the Suey Sing tong, for it was thought by many on the force to be responsible for Pete’s murder. Over the years both uniformed men and plainclothes’ details had been used in Chinatown, with the latter the more effective. But right after Pete’s death, to make a stronger show of force, Price outfitted his men in new bright-blue uniforms in place of the former quiet gray color. Within an hour of the resplendent squad’s lockstep entry in Chinatown
chun hungs
blossomed on brick walls, reading LOOK OUT FOR SERGEANT PRICE AND HIS MEN! THEY ARE DRESSED LIKE PEACOCKS AND ARE COMING TO STOP THE WAR AMONG THE CHINESE.

In death Little Pete was even more of a celebrity than in life, and crowds of Chinese and Caucasians gathered to see the corpse. Not all came out of morbid curiosity. Robert Ferral, one of his friends, said, “I’ve known Little Pete for years. I’ve prosecuted him and he has been my client and I have never known him to break his word.”

Pete’s widow and little son came with Pete’s brother Fong Shun to receive the deceased property. Coroner William J. Hawkins was afraid to turn over Little Petes’ magnificent diamond ring, gold watch and other jewelry to anyone else. He gave Chun Li a paper bag of belongings and then slipped the ring on her finger. As she gazed at it her composure was shattered and she sank to the floor, shrieking with grief. Her female companions and Pete’s brother were in tears, and even Coroner Hawkins was much moved by their emotion.

The body was taken from the funeral parlor in the finest casket Fong Shun could buy—one of metal covered with broadcloth. On the 25th it was moved to the morgue and there Hawkins empaneled a jury for a coroner’s inquest. The body, dressed in fine Chinese burial raiment including the so-called consular cap with gold knob worn by nobility in the Old Country, was then moved to Pete’s shoe factory. An area had been cleared where Pete could lie in state only thirty feet from where he had met his death. The building was quickly besieged by curiosity seekers. The gloomy building was bright with a profusion of flowers; colored candles and incense burned at the foot of the coffin and before an altar erected in the rear. In one corner the bereaved family and hired mourners, in blue wrappers and flowering white headdresses, kept up a continuous lament.