The  Wing Luke Museum’s Chinese Heritage Tour of the American West takes place this week – and I’ll be helping the Seattle institution devoted to the Asian Pacific American experience file blog dispatches from the road.

Please visit the museum’s travel blog. Among the places tour participants and I will visit in Washington state, Oregon, Idaho and Nevada will be the mines where Chinese immigrants once searched for gold.

It will, I think, be good stuff all around. And yes, please pass on the word about the journey and travel blog.

I should say upfront that the old Immigration and Naturalization Service building in Seattle – which has office space for lease and has neoclassical architectural touches from the 1920s and 1930s - sits on a centrally-located piece of land.

It rests at 815 Airport Way S. on the border of the city’s International District (and across the street from Uwajimaya, the big Asian supermarket) and within walking distance of the sports stadiums, restaurants and bus stops.

So, yes, it is easy to see why the building will be a draw for people in 2010 and beyond. But keep in mind: This 77,000-square-foot building, which opened in 1932 and completed under the supervision of architect James Wetmore, has plenty of history.

As in: It once housed Chinese immigrants – who were detained under the Chinese Exclusion Act, the country’s first racially-specific immigration law to block people from entering the United States.

HistoryLink.org notes that Alvin “Creepy” Karpis – a 1930s gangster and member of the Ma Barker Gang – called the building a temporary home (involuntarily, of course). He also spent time on Alcatraz. He apparently was a real-life public enemy.

On the upper floors, employees once processed gold – by 1955, nearly 1,000 pounds of it, federal officials said. Miners from the Klondike Gold Rush stopped at the office with what the precious metal. The U.S. government wanted to boost its gold reserves.

When I toured the building in 2006 with Hing Chinn, a Seattle resident who was detained there under the Chinese Exclusion Act, I spotted cramped rooms, tiny offices and holding cells – all of which undoubtedly will change with renovation efforts.

Now, as they say, all of this can be yours – or at least a slice of it if you lease office space in the building. This sign photographed below sits in front of what officially was called the United States Immigrant Station and Assay Office.

The leasing is a continuation of the sale of the building for $4.4 million by the federal government. INS Holdings LLC, comprised of a group of Seattle-area investors, purchased the building in an online, eBay-style bid.

At one point, the city of Seattle had hoped to receive the building for free from the federal government. There was talk about using the building to house travel and trade offices and some type of Asian Pacific center.

The city later pursued a sale of the building at a price tag of at least $998,000.

That idea, though, of the city taking ownership of the building fell through and the online bid process surfaced. The initial bid was $2.2 million and INS Holdings LLC won the day.

Urban Visions, a Seattle-based developer, envisioned using the space for environmental projects. 

At one point, the Highline School District, the Department of Veterans Affairs, the Salvation Army and private developers also expressed some interest in using the building, a federal official said.

Shawn Jackson of Holden Street Partners LLC is taking calls regarding office space at (206) 510-2576. A2 – Anisoglu Associates – or A2 – of Bainbridge Island is the architecture firm working on the renovations.

Cihan Anisoglu of Anisoglu Associates and a development partner said that the new owners plan to have space in the building to mark its place in Seattle and U.S. history.

Last year’s poor economy apparently delayed the posting of the office lease sign until recent months in 2010.

So: Will people rent space in the building?

I can see how people who support urban density could gravitate toward leasing space in the building, which required millions of dollars in renovations to bring it up to safety code. The building, as I’ve said, is close to Uwajimaya, restaurants and office buildings.

Jen Graves of The Stranger notes on the Slog that some artists already are in the building.

In terms of architecture, well, there are touches that people won’t see in the shiny, new steel-and-glass skyscrapers in the city. There is an Old World charm to its light fixtures, what with all the metal framing and ornate styling, as well as a modern touch with the energy-efficient bulb.

The building is on the National Register of Historic Places – so the owners need to keep much of the structure as it is.

The other day, after I spotted the office lease sign, I stood near the building and realized that its gate was open. A parking company is using the back lot.

I had never looked behind the building – I always saw it from the front, just as a facade and history marker in many ways. Well, here are some images from the other side of the building.

In 2005, the federal government issued a quick history of the building – including the fact that a safe-cracker who plied his gingerly trade during the Depression Era once was locked up inside.

Like I said before: This place has lots of history.

I should be more specific: I spotted the Wong Family Association office in Seattle’s International District – when I had my digital camera with me.

The surname is the same as mine. I might have walked into this association once years ago. But I don’t go here regularly.

For generations of ethnic Chinese, family associations have been a place in which to gather and a way to help people from the same area of China adjust to life in the United States. As we know, the Chinese in America have done a range of interesting jobs, including ones as aviators and singers, musicians and filmmakers.

It is Friday, right?

My thanks to Gil Asakawa for posting this on his blog, Nikkei View. He also gives his thoughts about Akebono, sumo wrestling and the clip.

Yes, I remember Akebono, the sumo champ who was born in Hawaii. He made it, um, big in Japan.

I admit that I owned albums (as a kid) by Journey. But I’ve never watched “Glee.”

Oh, yes. This video, in a way, reminds me of the fun exhibited in this trailer, which is part of the Chinatown Film Project in New York City. And Asakawa spotted the Akebono clip on Angry Asian Man.

UPDATE: The original video that I saw on Nikkei View has been removed by the YouTube user. I’ve posted the same video from another YouTube user. AsianCorrespondent.com gives context on the issue of Akebono, the former sumo champ who sings, if you’re interested.

The Seattle museum named after Wing Luke has changed its name. Photo source: Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience via Facebook.

The Wing Luke Asian Museum, one of Seattle’s most well-known institutions, changed its name, representatives announced Wednesday.

It is now the Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience – and has taken “The Wing” as a shorter version.

Museum Executive Director Beth Takekawa explained the change in a statement:

As the decade begins, the 43-year old Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience has entered a new world….Having opened the doors of a major building expansion and lived in it for two years, we have welcomed 50,000 visitors in our first year and are on track to bring in at least that many in our second year. Living in a world of 50,000 visitors is a 350 percent increase over our previous highest visitation years of 13,000-15,000. Our newly populated world has confronted our institution and the Asian Pacific American communities whose stories we tell, with a real opportunity to engage and interact deeply with the American public and culture.

As part of the expanded name, the museum also unveiled a new logo on its Web site.

On Saturday, the museum will celebrate the 100th birthday of its current home in the East Kong Yick Building in Seattle’s International District.

The museum’s old logo can be seen in the announcement below.

Wing Luke was the first Asian American to hold elected office in the Pacific Northwest, according to his biography posted on the musem’s Web site.

He served on the Seattle City Council.

And that it hailed and rained Friday morning in the Seattle area. When it did, my wife remarked that it sure would be nice to share some of our rain with that part of China.

It’s especially hard to find balance in thought when, well, you see an appealing advertisement for chocolate-dipped fortune cookies.

But I’ll admit: In this case, the advertising at Uwajimaya, the large Asian supermarket in Seattle, worked.

Just take a look for yourself.

My family and I had finished shopping at Uwajimaya the other day – when I waited for my wife and son right near the eyeglass store and bank.

For some reason, I looked up and spotted the advertisement that you see in the photograph above.

The tease in English: “missing something Sweet?”

But the chocolate covered cookie – in the famous fortune cookie shape – is what prompted me to say: “Hey, check this out.”

My wife and son had arrived. I gestured to the sign.

I finally walked around to the chocolate area to hunt down what the advertisement had conveyed to shoppers and visitors.

This is what I saw:

Very nice, I thought.

The thought of rich chocolate mixing with the crispness of the cookie quickly came to mind.

Then, I looked around and spotted this box below.

Wow, I thought – a richer taste because it’s dark chocolate that you’re eating.

More thoughts swirled in my mind: “This is getting even better!”

That is, until, I saw this box – which reminded me of all my sweet-tooth moments when I would go to the store and buy Orange Milano cookies.

Now, if the mood strikes, I can buy dark chocolate orange fortune cookies.

Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

At Uwajimaya, the 3.5-ounce package of six dipped cookies sells for $4.99 before taxes.

Yes, I spotted the advertisement hanging from the ceiling.

I walked over and surveyed the delicious-looking treats.

But no, I didn’t plunk down any money for them on that visit.

My wife reminded me that Mother’s Day is coming up – and that might be a good moment to try some.

I wonder if the cookies are similar in taste to some of those European ones that are dipped or partially-bathed in chocolate.

I’ll just have to find out at one point, likely in May.

The brand sold at Uwajimaya is Emily’s Chocolates and is from the Puget Sound region – Fife, in this case.

Yes, there’s a peppermint chocolate flavored fortune cookie, too.

The company is part of AMES International.

I should note, as I’ve done before, that fortune cookies are often associated with Chinese restaurants in the United States.

They’re the crispy treats with the sometimes amusing fortunes stuffed inside.

But one working theory goes that a Japanese family might have actually introduced them in California.

Around the time I wrote about fortune cookies in the Seattle area a few years ago, I talked with a person who makes chocolate-covered fortune cookies.

As I recall, she had a small business and wanted me to include her in my newspaper article.

We chatted on the phone and I asked where she made her cookies.

She paused and declined to say. That gave me a strange feeling since, well, journalists like honesty when a simple is asked.

When I worked as a journalist, I was aware that some people – but not all – wanted to get their name or company in print as a form of institutional validation or free advertising.

Yes, there are times when what you do at your business is interesting in and of itself – such that a news feature would let others know of what you do. 

In this case, I already had enough information for my article and proceeded with what I had.

When I was in graduate school in New York City, I went to a fortune cookie factory in Brooklyn to do research for a paper I wrote for a class.

The manager was kind enough to talk with me.

I told him how I always enjoyed walking through the alleys of San Francisco Chinatown as a kid and looking in the fortune cookie factories to see the process.

I watched older Chinese women, who reminded me of my grandmother, sit behind tables and insert fortunes inside the cookies and fold them.

I recall that they had fingertip coverings for protection because the cookie can be hot.

The manager in Brooklyn told me that his factory uses a specialized machine and the cookies never touched a human hand.

It went from baking to folding to being wrapped in a plastic bag in an automated process.

My thought: Wow.

Times change.

I asked to go inside the factory to see his machines since I was accustomed to cookies being folded by hand.

He politely declined my request, saying that the fortune cookie business is competitive in the United States and his technology, essentially, was a trade secret.

Again, I thought: Wow.

Times change. It’s only a fortune cookie.

I asked how many cookies his factory churned out each year. I forgot his exact number but I know it was hundreds of millions.

We chatted for a bit about who writes those fortunes.

He said he has hired freelance writers in the past.

One memorable fortune, as he told me, was when someone typed up and inserted into cookies this message: “Help! I’m being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.”

I laughed when he told me.

Since then, I’ve heard of similar messages being found in fortune cookies.

So, I don’t know if what he told me was urban legend – or if it actually happened at his factory.

Or, others might have just retold the story that he recounted such that it became widespread.

The manager, though, said a police officer called him up once and inquired whether anyone actually needed help.

If you are interested in seeing a video of how fortune cookies are made, The Seattle Times recently posted this clip.

Yes, I obviously hope the drought will end in China’s southwest – obviously, because millions of innocent people are being affected.

And I suppose that it is possible to hold a variety of thoughts in your head at one time.

Fortunately, what Homer Simpson once said is not always true:

Every time I learn something new it pushes something old out of my brain.

Finally: If you have eaten chocolate-covered fortune cookies, please let me know how they taste.

Thanks!

We all know that change happens – sometimes for the better and sometimes when there’s no opinion at all.

But it’s always good, I think, to pause to remember a place and its role in a community.

This time, the news involves China Gate, a restaurant in Seattle’s International District that stayed open late at night and dished up old-style and tasty dim sum.

It is now closed. Nancy Leson of The Seattle Times has all the details about the closure on her blog, All You Can Eat.

In the International District, I’ve covered a few closings, including the Yick Fung Co. and Kong Sun Co.

They’re the kind of places that you certainly know when you see the building or hear the name. But they might not come to the top of your mind every single day.

In my neighborhood in the past year or so, a market has closed as has two coffee stands, an old-style drugstore, a printing shop and a movie rental business.

I was in the Seattle neighborhood recently and thought I’d stop by to see the building, which has ornate dragons on top, a rich red facade with a yellow sign and a few spots of chipped paint.

This place once was a bustling restaurant - and even attracted Bruce Lee, before he moved to California to pursue his Hollywood career and show more people his martial arts prowess.

His wife told me that when I had the opportunity to chat with her years ago and I mentioned his ties to Seattle and its Chinatown.

From the looks of it, if a restaurant owner wants to move in and open in China Gate, the opportunity exists.

On the restaurant’s Web site, valet parking is still available.

When you look up at the magnificent red facade – which I admit, buildings don’t have as much these days – you spot a Chinese dragon and the Chinese characters, which are pronounced in Mandarin as ”long men jiu jia.”

“Long” means dragon in Chinese. And dragons have long symbolized that country.

Below this dragon – and another one on the other side of the yellow sign – is a note of busier times.

That’s right: Karaoke for customers and the masses, all days of the week.

There’s also a framed restaurant review from Seattle Magazine. The article, published in 2000, talked about top places to eat and included China Gate.

Here’s the text from the framed review:

It’s facade brings to mind a Hollywood backlot set. Inside, China Gate offers a Hong Kong-style menu with a couple hundred choices and dim sum that, while not all stellar, can be quite good. This large eatery offers two dim sum services per day, from 10:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. and again from 9:30 p.m. to about 2 a.m.

I like that 2 a.m. part.

Yes, I’ve heard that many people don’t feel as safe in Seattle’s International District late at night (or early in the morning) these days.

When I was younger, I’d get hungry at all hours of the day – and dim sum or noodles would enter my mind.

One summer, I lived in Berkeley, Calif. Chinese restaurants in Oakland’s Chinatown stayed open late – and I’d go after I watched David Letterman host his old show on NBC.

At China Gate, what patrons also found inside was an old-style Chinese restaurant.

I’ve visited a few times and ate there once. I recall high-backed booths, which I recall were pure vinyl.

The cash register looked as if it hadn’t been replaced in decades – all shiny metal, buttons that you really have to push to make everything work.

Interestingly enough, those upside down Chinese characters - which are pronounced “fu” in Mandarin Chinese – and are on those red pieces of paper mean good luck and are popular, especially during Lunar New Year.

I recall that the dim sum was filling.

One time, a few years ago, I dropped by and talked with the owner about story ideas in Chinatown.

He was talking with some Chinatown restaurant owners and business leaders – all of whom were seated around a table.

I had never met these business leaders and one asked why he hadn’t seen me more in Chinatown.

The owner was kind enough to offer me some dim sum, which I respectfully declined given that I was working as a journalist.

The place also offered people a chance to see upturned eaves - always great to see (I like big boxy buildings, too).

Of all the comments left on Leson’s blog, I like this one, by a writer who goes by the handle “westsidemarc,” the best:

This is sad news. My grandfather built the ornate Gate for the original owner with whom he was friends for many years and I can recall grand family dinners there as some of my first memories when I was a young boy. I hope that a new owner is found and that they bring the China Gate back to the glory days of the past.

It’s funny how life goes.

It would be great to chat with, if possible, this man who helped build the fancy red gate at China Gate.

Years ago, when I was in college, I chatted with a woman whose relative helped build the pagoda that you see on the Tsingtao Beer label.

Is there value in chatting with people who helped build interesting structures?

In terms of money, no.

But in terms of understanding more about a place, yes.

As for food, after I saw China Gate on my trip to the International District, a friend and I met up at Hing Loon.

I’ve mentioned that I like the place, especially its curry over rice.

We dined on a hot pot dish with salted fish, chicken and tofu ($9.50).

It hit the spot.

The winning entry to redesign Bruce Lee's house in Hong Kong came from a Hong Kong team. Image source: bruceleeresidence.com

When organizers announced in July that there would be a competition to redesign Bruce Lee’s house in Hong Kong, the news made a global splash.

Tourism and business leaders in this free port are quite savvy. The name Bruce Lee is recognized worldwide. When he was alive, his skills were lightning fast.

I blogged about the competition, since Bruce Lee once lived in Seattle and met his wife in the city and taught some of his first students in the International District.

In fact, his first martial arts studio was in the basement of the red building in this video. And Jesse Glover, a Seattle resident, was his first student.

I kept checking the Hong Kong organizers’ Web site from time to time for the design winners – and just realized the winning drawings have been out since January.

I’ve included two images here, the winning entry and second-place entry from the winning group. It really is better, though, to visit the organizers’ Web site (go to “updates” at the bottom) and see the images directly.

Here are easy links for the professional group winners, which includes the top name from a team:

1. Yuen Gi Tsun Jimmy of Hong Kong
2. Witold Opalinski of Poland
3. Wang Shanxiang of China

 Here are the winners for the open group:

1. Lau Chun Yiu Agnus of Hong Kong
2. Wong Wai Shan of Hong Kong
3. Sum Chi Wai of Hong Kong

 You also can enlarge them to get a better sense of what details might go into a renovation of the martial arts’ star house.

As you can see in Yuen Gi Tsun’s winning entry, visitors would be able to go under the house.

I think Sum Chi Wai’s icons of the martial arts star, who also was a writer and read a great deal of philosophy, are noteworthy.

This time around, though, the January announcement of the winners didn’t seem to make as loud of a media splash. CNN had a short blog post.

AFP move a February story, which pointed out that:

A local design contest ended last month, but the memorial’s final look, building costs, who will pay them and when it opens remain unclear. The tourism board is hoping the attraction can draw visitors from inside and outside the city, and boost Hong Kong’s hard-hit film industry.

The article also noted that the owner of the house, located at No. 41 Cumberland Road Kowloon Tong, had wanted to sell it. People balked.

The owner, Yu-Pang Lin, offered to donate the house – which reportedly is or was a love hotel – in his honor.

From the AFP story:

Yu has said the home should be renovated to include a museum, library, a cinema and martial arts area. Others, including Bruce Lee Club chairman, Wong Yiu-keung, want the original floor plan preserved so visitors can imagine how it looked when the actor lived there. ‘It should be a memorial house. After all it’s his former residence,’ Wong said.

Since it appears that money to support the renovation project is an issue and the direction might have hit an obstacle, that might explain why there wasn’t as much fanfare as compared to the unveiling of the design competition.

It does look like Shannon Lee, the daughter of Bruce Lee, supports the project, according to the AFP story.

On the 35th anniversary of Bruce Lee’s passing, his family traveled to Seattle to mark that date and talk with his supporters.

They also unveiled drawings and more details for a three-story Bruce Lee Action Museum, which they hope would be built in Seattle and cover an entire city block.

As much as $50 million could be devoted to the musem and its construction.

I haven’t heard of any update since I talked with the family at that event in 2008.

But the family’s architect said – at that time – that they looked around for open pieces of property in Seattle. Raising money, certainly, remained a goal.

Given how the country’s hard economic times are still being felt, including in Seattle, I know one thing: If the family does go forward with a Bruce Lee Action Museum in Seattle, secures the money and breaks ground, there will be many smiles in the city.

And just how fast was Bruce Lee?

At one point, he talked with a journalist with the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, my former employer.

Lee asked the journalist to hold out his open palm with a coin in it.

Lee told the journalist to close his fingers and hand as fast as he could. Lee said he would try and swipe that coin out with his hand.

The journalist shut his hand, making a fist as fast as he could.

Lee raised his hand and showed the journalist the coin.

I read about it in an archived story in the P-I.

The second place entry for the professional group came from Witold Opalinski of Poland. Image source: bruceleeresidence.com

Sum Chi Wai of Hong Kong placed third in the open competition to redesign Bruce Lee's Hong Kong house. Image source: bruceleeresidence.com

In 1996, after I had visited China twice and pedaled my mountain bike 1,200 miles on a solo trek through the country, I wanted to know – firsthand – what life as a Chinese peasant was truly like.

So, I went to the Taishan area of Guangdong province – the same region my grandparents and relatives on my mom’s side left in the 1910s and 1930s – and scouted out a village to lend a hand.

I didn’t go directly to my mom’s village, which only had dozens of people at the time and didn’t have much money, because I knew people there might ask for financial help to make their lives better.

I stopped by the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office in the city of Taishan, the main hub of this rural area, and asked about places to go. I also worked with a translator because I cannot speak the Cantonese dialect that people in this part of Southern China use on a daily basis.

The officials suggested that I visit Shui Bu, which was more developed than my mom’s village of Long An. Paved roads enabled cars and trucks to get there quickly from Taishan city. There was a hotel where I could stay.

The government also had a cafeteria where I could eat.

So, off we went in a black sedan, courtesy of the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office.

In Shui Bu, at that time, there was a tower in one part of the village. Locals told me that it once was used a fort of sorts, given that the region has seen Japanese forces sweep through. I’m sure decades ago there also were marauding groups who bounced around, just looking for items of use.

When I was there in 1996, the local police force used it as the headquarters. As I remember, there was only one officer there. My translator and I hung around with this officer and when we went with him to shoot pool at night.

At Shui Bu, I met an Overseas Chinese official who ran the village magazine to inform all those who left for lives in other countries about what was going on in their ancestral home. I understand that – ancestral ties are important for people worldwide.

You can blend in to any new home country as best as you can. But really, if you remember where your parents, grandparents or great-grandparents once lived, you’re much richer for that knowledge and what people had to overcome to make it to a new destination.

So, this Overseas Chinese official asked me to write about my experience as a Chinese American from California who came back to hang out in a village and work with a peasant. My translator helped turn my words and ideas into Chinese.

Before I left, the official asked for my address and said she would send me a copy of the magazine to my house in California. I found that to be thoughtful.

The magazine highlights village developments, red-ribbon opening ceremonies of schools and offices and donations from Chinese living abroad.

What I’ve learned, too, is that the Overseas Chinese officials enjoy staying in touch with other Overseas Chinese – and I guess I can include myself in the group – such that they have never stopped sending me the magazine.

They’ve been sending me the magazine for nearly 15 years now.

It’s pictured above.

I credit them for their consistency over the long run because each time I visit my parents, I pick up the brown envelope in the old mail pile, tear it open and pull out a copy of the Shui Bu magazine.

Keep in mind that one use of this magazine, besides keeping people with Shui Bu roots informed, is to, well, seek donations for Shui Bu.

The interesting thing is that this is not my ancestral home in China. It’s Long An – which locals call “3-8″ in their Cantonese dialect.

In fact, Shui Bu is actually the ancestral home of U.S. Commerce Secretary Gary Locke. He once served as governor of Washington state.

How do I know this?

My translator and I were hanging around that fort-like tower with the police officer when someone spotted us and ran toward me waving a newspaper article.

The person placed it in front of me and asked whether I knew the person in the picture. It was Locke.

At the time, I had never met Locke and replied so. But I said that I was familiar with him because of his work in U.S. politics.

The answer came back from the people around me that this was his ancestral hometown.

Each time I see the Shui Bu magazine, I still look at it. It has a glossy cover but newsprint inside. The back of the cover that you see above has photographs of a new building, a dental clinic and people in black suits standing in front of a sign for an elementary school.

In fact, in the recent December 2009 edition, there’s a photograph of Locke.

I do credit Shui Bu Overseas Chinese officials for sending me the magazine for so long.

I figure that remembering someone – or at least not removing a name from a mailing list – for five years would have sufficed. Even 10 years is a good point to quietly stop dropping a copy of the magazine in the mail.

But 15 years really must mean something, I guess.

I mean people make a huge fuss – and rightfully so – when a couple’s 25th wedding anniversary rolls around.

So, I want to publicly say thank you to those officials. They really are taking the idea of Chinese-American friendship seriously.

Or they really take seriously the idea of staying in touch with ethnic Chinese who can trace their roots back to the Taishan area of Guangdong province.

In the future, I should return to Shui Bu and find the Overseas Chinese Affairs office and walk inside and announce: “Hi, it’s me. I’m back! After all these years! It’s great to see you!”

Well, you can probably guess what the initial response would be.

That is, until they realize that I’m the grandson of two Chinese people who left the Taishan area decades ago.

In the interim, the next time I return to visit my parents in California, I’ll be looking for that glossy Shui Bu magazine in the pile of old mail.

If you’re interested in reading my essay about working in the fields with a Chinese peasant – officials put me in touch with a nearby village chief – it was published in a book, Cultural Curiosity: Thirteen Stories about the Search for Chinese Roots, from the University of California Press.

I can tell you this: Other peasants who saw me working in the fields and realized I was from the United States kept asking why I wanted to do such labor-intensive work.

As my translator told me, one said: “If you like this work so much, would you like to stay here and join us?”

I’m easing back into blogging while my family and I are visiting my parents in California.

One nice note that my mom told me about was John Jung’s new book, Sweet and Sour: Life in Chinese Family Restaurants.

Jung, a retired professor, wrote and published the book, which looks at the families that ran these establishments, the themes that emerged from them and why the independent restaurants surfaced in the United States.

From his preface:

Although the title, Sweet and Sour, suggests a popular style of Chinese restaurant fare, the focus on this book is not on Chinese food, but on the difficult lives of the Chinese immigrants and their families that made their livelihoods operating countless small restaurants during most of the past century often in small remote places all over the U.S. and Canada. These restaurants, which provided the primary, if not the only, experience with Chinese food for most non-Chinese people were a major source of self-employment for earlier generations of Chinese immigrants and their families from villages in the southern China province of Guangdong.

Jung also explains in the book that the title gives a nod to that combination of hard and rewarding times for the families and restaurant staff who had to make the food, serve it, clean up and, at times, deal with the poor treatment from some customers.

He writes:

Sweet and Sour serves as an apt metaphor for the often, contradictory experiences of Chinese restaurant families. The long hours of never ending work each day made for harsh lives, which was soured by the hostile reception they often faced as foreigners in a racially prejudiced society. Yet, they persevered, and through painstaking labor enabled their children to have a better education that afforded them better options in life.

I’m glad Jung, who I chatted with by email before about his previous work, has pursued this work.

Why?

These stories need to be told, especially as the United States sees newer immigrants from China arrive.

It’s easy to focus on contemporary immigration issues, and especially on newer residents in Silicon Valley or the Seattle area who have high technology jobs.

Of course, that’s good.

But in this rush to focus on that slice of Chinese immigration to the United States, it’s easy to overlook – and actually ignore – what other Chinese have experienced in the United States.

We should remember, and learn from, history.

Central themes – which can be handed from generation to generation – emerge. And colorful, often humorous stories do, too.

We see what ideas immigrants keep from their home countries and what they change, often to survive, after they arrive.

I should note, too, that Jung asked my mom, Flo Oy Wong, to contribute a chapter about the family restaurant named Ai Joong Wah, and my aunt, Nellie Wong, to submit work, as well. My aunt wrote two poems for the book.

My mom writes:

Our jobs? We served countless bowls of soup from the steam table to waiting customers. We wrapped won tons, our fingers deftly folding the soft won (ton) pay around bits of pork, green onions, water chestnuts, into a shape resembling a tiny hill. We set out pans of cold iceberg lettuce to make salads, made jello for dessert, stacked loaves of doughy Kilpatrick bread in the blue and white checkered bags on top of the refrigerator. After each of us had learned to type we all took turns typing and printing the daily menu. At the end of each day one of us would wash the coffee urn. We poured hot water into the urn and brushed away the old coffee grinds inside of the tubes….Our entire lives for 18 years centered on Ai Joong Wah, which was our anchor, our center, our womb.

I should say, too, that my mom taught my sister and I how to wrap won ton when we were kids.

So, of course, since my mom and aunt contributed to this book, you really do need to go buy a bunch of them!

I’m just joking. Buy it if you like. Or keep an eye out in the library for it. Or keep an eye out if Jung is in your city to talk about his work.

Jung includes photographs of Chinese restaurants in his book – including images from the dining areas to those great, old neon signs that told people passing by of the Chinese and American food inside.

It’s hard to believe but these signs – as well as Chinatown photos – have become a genre in and of themselves – partially because as families leave the restaurant business, their signs are slowly coming down.

Jung also notes how family-run Chinese restaurants shaped the perception of some when they saw ethnic Chinese:

Chinese were so strongly associated with these livelihoods that they became stereotypical images of all Chinese to the general public even after many Chinese entered other occupations and professions.

But I am glad, as I think others are, that there is sweetness to this slice of U.S. history.

Jung has a good point about how these restaurants also popped up in areas outside of large U.S. cities.

Once, I drove from the U.S. West Coast to the East Coast for a travel writing assignment. I stopped in small cities in the Midwest for lunch. I would find a small Chinese restaurant and talk to the staff about how they arrived at what they were doing.

Speaking of other Chinese immigration stories, my uncle, Bill Wong, just interviewed Joan Chen, the actress and director, for the Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation. She was in the movie, The Last Emperor. He says it shows another slice of the history of people moving from one place to another to pursue new opportunities.

And I’ve linked to my story about Yick Fung Co. in Seattle’s Chinatown before. It was family run and is now part of The Wing Luke Asian Museum.

But if you’re inclined to read about a Chinese family that operated what was a hub of a meeting place for Chinese in Seattle, have a look. It’s one of my favorite stories that I wrote about as a journalist in Seattle.

One reason why I like the store so much is that, in my opinion, it was a genuine place.

And you can’t beat that.