Clattering Sparrows (5 page)

4

JUNE 1948 MARKED THE end of elementary school for us. It was hard to believe seven years had passed since we moved into our houses on Oates. Our friendship grew stronger as we often confided the trials and tribulations of our pre-teen years in one another, and on our last day at Wheatley, Judy, Billy, Jenny, Tony, and I dubbed ourselves
The Fabulous Five
. We were all excited about attending Eliot Junior High in the fall, but first more immediate on our minds were our summer plans with our families and each other.

My father surprised us and bought our first television set, a Philco 1000. It was a large cumbersome piece of furniture with an antenna on top, and it was almost comical to see all of us sitting around watching the small ten inch screen. It wasn’t long before everyone was talking about “rabbit ears” and “snowy reception” and “TV test patterns” in everyday conversations.

There were a host of new shows that debuted that year and the
Texaco Star Theater
, a comedy/variety show on NBC, proved to be one of the first hugely successful examples of American television. Remembered best as the show that made Milton Berle a household name and earned him the title of “Mister Television,” it kept audiences glued to their sets for an hour each Tuesday night for eight seasons. When Ed Sullivan’s
Toast of the Town
debuted two short weeks later on CBS, guests Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis wowed millions of viewers and earned the show a strong following who continued to watch each and every Sunday night for years.

Because of the Polio epidemic, the public pools were closed and the many beaches on Chesapeake Bay were off limits. We managed to keep busy. We read books (the Nancy Drew mysteries were my favorite), went to movies, rode the Wilson Line to Marshall Hall, took the streetcar to the Washington Monument to see the 4
^th
of July fireworks display, and in August our family went on vacation to the Catskill Mountains in New York. All too soon the summer was over.

The next three years transformed us into young adults. Our steps toward independence had advanced to a trot. We entered Eliot as children and left as teenagers, thinking more about the future and what we wanted to do with our lives. And thanks to the Friday night dances in the gym, we discovered “boys!” Whereas in elementary school we were limited to friends in our immediate area, junior high school offered the chance to meet friends living miles away who had attended other elementary schools. This opened a whole new world for us.

Unlike Wheatley where we had one teacher and remained in one classroom for the entire day except for assemblies and field trips, at Eliot we had a homeroom where we started each day, and went to a different class with a different teacher for each subject. And unlike elementary, we now had physical education and home economics classes. Our beautiful homeroom teacher was Celia Dail, who also taught Science. Although quite unusual, we remained in her homeroom for the entire three years of junior high. We rode public transportation buses to Eliot, but since it was only a little over a mile to the school, on nice days we walked home stopping at People’s Drug Store on Benning Road for a cherry Coke or ice cream soda from their fountain.

We traveled by bus to the Kalorama Roller Rink for roller skating and to the Chevy Chase Ice Palace for ice skating. We learned how to play tennis on the courts at 16
^th
and Kennedy, and Glen Echo Amusement Park was a frequent weekend destination when it opened for the season each April. We often went swimming in the Park’s pool when it opened from Memorial Day to Labor Day each year.

Whenever my cousins came to visit, my father would take us sightseeing downtown where we visited the seemingly endless monuments and museums. In season we never failed to take a ride on the Swan Boat or rent a pedal boat from Fletcher’s Boat House. Miniature golf at East Potomac was also a favorite of ours. But a must see each year were the Cherry Blossoms along the Tidal Basin when they exploded into full bloom in early April.

Most Saturday afternoons would find us at the Beverly Movie Theatre where for twelve cents we could see a double feature, news of the day, and the current week’s episode of the Oater Serial. There was no popcorn, but we purchased candy from a machine by inserting a nickel in the slot.

We only “dated” for special dances which were far and few between, but rather “hung out” with our friends attending sports events and parties in groups. However, that did not deter us from having a “crush” on any particular boy at any particular time. I went through periodic crushes all through junior high, but Judy only had eyes for Tony Russo. Tony was drawn to her as well and she adored him.

The years seemed to fly by, and as June 1951 approached, we were impatiently looking forward to graduation and attending Eastern Senior High School in the fall.

In early May, as Judy and I walked to Su Ling’s house for our regular Wednesday afternoon Mahjong game, we were busy talking about our graduation dresses and our gowns for our first big formal dance that was coming up. “Have you told your parents that Tony asked you to the Prom?” I asked.

Judy shook her head, “No, I haven’t. I don’t know what I’ll do if they won’t let me go with him. I know he’s not Jewish, but we’re only going to a dance. We’re not getting married! They would have a fit if they knew he is the only person I dance with at the Friday night dances in the gym.”

As we approached the Columbia Laundry on the way to Su Ling’s house, there were several police cars in front of the building, and the handcuffed employees of the laundry were being ushered into a large police van. Unable to pass the police barricade of the laundry and the crowd that had gathered, Judy and I crossed Bladensburg Road and walked up the street on the other side, allowing us to cross back over to Su Ling’s house. We rang the doorbell and waited.

After a short while, An Lei answered the door and said, “Today is not a good day. We will have our game another time.” She quickly closed the door.

The next morning, the newspaper headlines screamed, “DIRTY LAUNDRY HUNG OUT TO DRY!” Beneath the bold headlines there was a picture of Hu Chen and his wife being led to the police van in handcuffs. The story went on to say that for years, the laundry had been a front for smuggling illegal drugs and workers into the United States. The sudden collapse and death of two underage workers brought the laundry’s operations to the attention of health officials, whose early findings prompted them to turn over the investigation to the FBI.

After World War II, to contain the spread of Communism in Asia, the United States forged alliances with tribes and warlords by supplying them and their armies with arms, ammunition, and air transportation for the production and sale of opium. This resulted in an explosion in the availability and illegal flow of heroin into the States and into the hands of dealers and addicts.

Jumping at the opportunity to replace bootleg liquor sales at the end of prohibition in December 1933, many of the drug dealers were Mafia orchestrated and controlled, as they had been for years. Forced to seek new contacts in South America during the War, they now found themselves in a position of power and with heroin so readily available, the escalated sale of illegal drugs became rampant.

When Su Ling’s father purchased the Columbia Laundry, their plans were already in place to smuggle illegal workers into the country to inexpensively man the laundry, but at his new wife’s persistence, they began smuggling illegal drugs as well. Her family ties to China’s drug lords granted them direct and easy access to an abundance of drugs allowing them to readily supply their contacts in the States.

Hu Chen had been in America for many years and believed that working hard and being honest was the best way to proceed. He had seen many of his countrymen deported, and he did not want that to happen to him personally. Simply put, he was uncomfortable working on the wrong side of the law. Although he had originally agreed to the smuggling of illegal workers, after rethinking the situation, he was soon remorseful, but was unable to convince his wife to stop. However, wanting no involvement whatsoever in the unlawful drug activities, he stood his ground by exclusively taking over running the laundry while alluding all drug operations to her. Nonetheless, for almost ten years, their illegal smuggling, of both workers and drugs, had gone undetected.

The Columbia Laundry was closed and boarded up, as was Hu Chen’s house further up the street. After Hu Chen and his wife were tried and deported to China, both buildings ultimately remained empty eyesores for years, tied up in the courts as to the rightful owner of the buildings. Finding no evidence of any relatives who could come forward and claim next ownership, the buildings were eventually sold at auction, and the proceeds claimed by the Government.

Most people did not know that Hu Chen was Su Ling’s father. They simply knew she lived with her grandmother, and assumed that she was her only relative.

Su Ling did not come to school the next day, but on Friday, she returned and finished the school year. She attended the dance escorted by her cousin who lived in Chinatown, and as Valedictorian of our class delivered the Valedictory at our graduation.

Judy and I never discussed Hu Chen and his wife and what had happened at the laundry with one another, with our parents, or with An Lei and Su Ling. Many years would pass before my father related the whole story to me.

On the Wednesday prior to our graduation, An Lei set up our game in their yard and we played Mahjong outdoors. The garden was in full bloom and a cool breeze provided the perfect setting. As we played, suddenly a butterfly landed on the wall of tiles in front of me. For several moments, we sat quietly observing its beauty, but as quickly as it had come, it fluttered away.

An Lei was delighted, “Exquisite and delicate, the Chinese believe the exotic butterfly attracts good fortune. If you ever catch a butterfly or one lands on you, whisper your wish to it and set it free. The butterfly will deliver your wish to the spirits who will grant it.”

An Lei made a special blend of tea and served not only our favorite almond cookies but several Chinese pastries as well. When we had finished the game and returned the tiles to their case, she asked us to remain seated at the table.

She left the room briefly returning with a deck of Tarot cards. As she spread the cards in front of us she explained the meaning of each card and what it represented in our future. As a graduation gift, she gave each of us what she called a “reading.” Judy and I couldn’t imagine how the funny-looking sinister cards could divulge any useful information whatsoever, and although we giggled as she interpreted each and every one and told us what lay ahead, I would in due course recall that much of what she said actually came to pass.

On our way home, Judy and I agreed that it had been the best afternoon ever. There was no indication whatsoever that sadly we had played our last game of Mahjong with our dear friends. By the end of the week, just days after our graduation, Su Ling and An Lei abruptly moved away, and we lost contact with them.

Several days after they left, a package arrived at my house. It contained An Lei’s Mahjong Set, and two identical small paintings of the set resting on their beautiful altar table with a butterfly hovering above. Etched gold frames further enhanced the rich and vibrant colors she had chosen. Su Ling had captured every detail with her “magic paintbrush.” Inside was a note that read:

Dear Judy and Sara,

No one ever had two better friends than you have been.

My father has brought disgrace upon us. We can no longer stay here, and the cards indicate it is time for us to move on. Arrangements have been made with relatives to pack up our belongings, sell our home, and forward everything to us in San Francisco. We have relatives and friends there, as well, and hope to find a place to live by the time our things arrive.

We want you to share the Mahjong Set, and we hope the game will forever be a part of your lives. That way, you will always remember us and in some small measure, we will be a part of your lives as well. The paintings are my graduation gift to each of you and are symbolic of our friendship.

As your Tarot cards revealed, you have bright futures ahead of you, and maybe someday our paths will cross again. The butterfly was also a sign that many good things lie in store for both of you. We will never forget our wonderful Wednesday afternoons.

Love,

Su Ling and An Lei

When Judy and I read the note, we both cried. “I can’t imagine Su Ling and An Lei not being here anymore.” I said between sobs.

“We had no hint of their plans when we were at their house last week. Everything seemed fine. Don’t you agree?” asked Judy.

“I certainly do. We were having so much fun, and when An Lei read the Tarot cards, we were all giggling about the future and all the days ahead of us. It’s so sad; I miss them already.”

We both stared intently at the paintings and couldn’t believe Su Ling had captured every detail of the set and the beautiful butterfly. Judy ran her fingers over the red leather case. “Sara, why don’t you keep the set? I guess we won’t be using it much unless we teach two other people to play.”