Chinawoman's Chance

by James Musgrave

  “And justice was served,” said Kwong.

  “Justice can be a cruel mistress, Mister Kwong, as you and your fellows know so well. I must admit, I have been aware for some time about the way your people and other indigent poor are treated in our courts. I have even been working with others to propose a possible new office of the Public Defender, paid by the City, to address this flagrant imbalance in representation.” She pointed at the American flag in the corner.

  “Our Constitution’s Fourteenth Amendment does say, after all, ‘equal justice under the law,’ but it applies only to persons born here. I believe it should apply to any person who is lawfully living and employed here because he or she must answer to the same laws that natural born citizens must obey. I must admit, however, that I have a certain personal prejudice about you and your people. Are you not part of the problem in our society instead of being part of the solution? Your business treaties are between your rulers, the Manchu, and our Federal Government, are they not? How can you demand your rights in our local courts?”

  Clara wanted to be honest with these men. After all, she had never really explored their side of the immigration and civil rights issues. She wanted to know more about them.

  After Andrew Kwong had translated what she said to his fellows at the table, they talked amongst themselves for quite some time. Finally, Mister Kwong spoke for them.

  “We believe you will help us because we are in a similar predicament as your other minorities, the Negro and the aborigine. We are also very like your majority, the female population. It is true, we are bound by our Manchu leaders back home because they negotiated the treaty which binds us in most of our contracts for employment in America. They are, as you said about your husbands, our lord and master. However, we, unlike you, must serve two masters. Not only are we bound by the contractual arrangement which we did not negotiate, we are also bound by your criminal and administrative justice systems, which we did not democratically approve. Therefore, can you wonder why we have needed to circumvent both masters to survive in America and have any future chance to assimilate into your society?”

  Kwong straightened his necktie. “I have converted to Christianity in the Methodist faith and learned English, but I am not any closer to citizenship than my Buddhist and Taoist friends. Perhaps I can mingle with the whites a bit more easily, but my civil rights are still forbidden. I have read about your Suffrage Movement. I understand you often take steps that are forbidden to you by the law, such as birth control and pressing the authorities for equal employment. You have forced the hand of the California legislature to permit women to be employed in the legal profession, have you not?”

  “Why, yes, I and my sisters have accomplished this. We also argued successfully so that women can attend Hastings Law School. But I have not been able to attend because I must work to support my five children and my parents. I am still proud to see other women attend, however. Are you suggesting you and your brethren want the rights of American citizens? Do you hope to become citizens?”

  Andrew Kwong answered quickly, “Yes. We would like to marry the female of our choice and have children. Why can’t we be ordained citizens, even without a birthright? If we promise to uphold all the laws in these United States, then we should be granted citizenship, no?”

  Clara was becoming more interested in the plight of her captors. Their argument equating to her cause of women’s suffrage was a good one. How many years have women been virtual slaves to their master husbands simply because the American laws forbid women the right to vote and to enter into contracts on their own behalf? These poor Chinese have faced a similar dilemma.

  “I like your argument. What is it you want me to do for you? How much are you willing to pay?”

  Clara was a good negotiator. She knew the law of politics also. She had argued and spoken out for Republicans, Labor Independents, and Democrats. Usually, she was attracted by the party’s specific stand on Women’s Suffrage, but money had also often swayed her. She believed leaders in America were the ones willing to take a risk and speak out about issues that affected the population. Most followers were gladly willing to allow these leaders to speak for them, although sometimes it was to their detriment.

  “Simply stated, we want you to argue for us in San Francisco criminal courts. Right now, fourteen men are being held without bail in your jail on Kearny Street. Tomorrow, we are being visited by Captain of Detectives, Isaiah Lees. He is investigating the murder of a Caucasian prostitute named Mary McCarthy. She was killed inside one of our apartments in Chinatown. The fourteen Tongs who were arrested are suspects, and I would assume Captain Lees will be looking for more. We want you here to represent us. We are willing to pay you the sum of one hundred dollars per hour for your representation.” Andrew Kwong looked to his right and left, and the other men nodded their approval.

  One hundred dollars per hour. Clara had never been offered so much money by anybody. Once, a wealthy dentist paid her to travel to the state legislature to get a bill passed which would allow him a refund of the money he had bequeathed the University of California. She had to fight him, tooth and nail, for every cent he paid her, and she ultimately had to take him to court to win a small judgement. That fiasco had taken up thousands of hours of her time and effort, living frugally on bread and cheese, and sleeping in the halls of the Sacramento Congress.

  “Gentlemen. You shall have your representation. What time should I be here tomorrow?”

  “Please be here before Captain Lees arrives at 1 PM,” said Andrew Kwong.

  “I will be here at noon. I have a lot of questions of my own to ask. The intrigue is just beginning, I expect. You can also be assured, Gentlemen, that once Clara Shortridge Foltz is on your side, she becomes a tenacious tigress protecting her young.”

  When Mister Kwong translated what she said, every Company leader at the table smiled, and Clara was pleased.

  Clara had no escorts for her return to her lonely residence on Montgomery Street. She had moved into the small apartment after the dentist and his wife, with whom she had been residing while doing his bidding, cast her out. She used the money from her judgement against him to rent her new place, wherein she also had her business office as well as her bed.

  Her parents, Telitha and Elias Shortridge, still lived in San Jose with the five children. The goal she had was to make enough money to be able to move her family to San Francisco, but since the economy had taken a downturn, she thought that was probably not possible. But now, surprisingly, she was again invigorated with the prospect of making enough from the Chinese Companies to afford the move.

  Clara had learned the law while working for a judge, Richard Warren, who was a friend of her father, from the time when her father practiced law. He merely sat her down inside his library and told her to study “the codes,” as he called them, as well as the old books he had when he attended law school. Clara had poured over the rules and laws about contracts, criminal law, civil law, wills, torts, and compensation. Her father had early on recognized his daughter’s gift for argument and her almost photographic memory.

  But it was Clara’s belief in herself and her abilities that gifted her with the initiative and drive needed to pass the bar on her first attempt. Even though she had not sat in a college classroom for more than one hour, she was able to become an attorney in California, something many men were never able to do.

  If it were simply a matter of passing the bar, Clara’s feat might not have been so noteworthy. However, she, along with her close friend and fellow attorney, Laura Gordon, successfully argued with the California State Legislature to pass the ordinances which made it legal for women to pursue the profession of law, or any other profession, and to attend law school.

  Although Clara wished she had the time and the money to attend law school, she now realized she had to put her mind and legal talents to work at providing the best possible defense for her new clients in Chinatown. What came to her first, as she w
alked along the breezy sidewalks of San Francisco, deeply inhaling the cool air, was the fact that she would need a different translator.

  Even though Mister Andrew Kwong seemed quite polite and educated, she knew his inevitable alliance would always be with his comrades. Therefore, he could not be trusted to always give her the truth. Clara realized she needed somebody to work with her who would not be biased. She knew of one Chinese who spoke perfect English, and who had successfully worked in a profession, albeit illegal, that was in direct conflict with the men.

  Her name was Ah Toy, former prostitute and Madam, and the only Chinese woman to make it out of the confines of Chinatown and become a wealthy entrepreneur. Clara had successfully assisted her in suing a Tong leader who was trying to extort payment from her for his protection. When the 1854 Anti-Prostitution Law, aimed at the Chinese and not others, and the California Supreme Court decision in People v. Hall, which prevented Chinese from testifying in court, were established, Ah Toy retired from her brothel business. She began investing in real estate and took up residence in Santa Clara and San Jose.

  However, Clara knew, Ah Toy was presently visiting San Francisco and living in the giant Mark Hopkins Mansion up on Nob Hill, the highest point in San Francisco. Mark Hopkins had been one of the “Big Four” owners of the Central Pacific Railroad (along with Leland Stanford, Collis P. Huntington, and Charles Crocker).

  Mister Hopkins had died in 1878, so his wife and first cousin, Mary, was left with the property. She was a great lover of art and sculpture, so when Missus Sherwood Hopkins, age sixty-six, saw the many Chinese art objects that Ah Toy owned, she arranged for this meeting to buy some from her. Mary was not the typical “snob” on Nob Hill, so doing business with a former brothel madam did not phase her one bit. Besides, most of her husband’s fortune could be traced to the employment of cheap Chinese male labor, so Missus Hopkins was impressed by this attractive Chinese woman’s success and determination.

  Clara took the cable car, even though inventor Hallidie’s wire rope did not assuage her fear. She held onto the seat in front of her for dear life, as she heard the groan of this rope being stretched while her clanging car mounted the steep incline on California Street toward One Nob Hill. The looming presence of the Victorian giant on the hill cast a shadow over her as she stepped down from the steps. To Clara, who spent most of her life in wood cabins on the Iowa plains, or crowded city apartments, it was quite monstrous. She had read that they painted all of the redwood to resemble stones.

  This was the gaudiest mansion in all of San Francisco. It took up the entire block, and it was one mass of cupolas, turrets, and flying buttresses. Clara supposed there were also gargoyles hiding in the rafters somewhere leering down at her. There were dozens of balconies and bay windows, and if the mansion were white, it would have looked like one of those sugar confection castles seen in a Nob Hill bakery shop window. Instead, it was a very depressing gray-black.

  As Clara walked up to the main gate, she saw the private security guard house. When a man armed with a Winchester rifle slung over his shoulder stepped out of the shadows, he startled her. “Madame? Who do you wish to visit?”

  She supposed the guard was there because of the railroad labor strikes that were going on. When she looked closer at him, she smiled. He was wearing a gray-black uniform, including a ridiculous-looking British Bobby hat with a black plume sticking out of the top. “I’m here to see Miss Ah Toy. I believe she’s a guest of Missus Hopkins.”

  “And, who are you? I need to communicate your identity up to the house.”

  “Clara Shortridge Foltz, Esquire. I don’t think Miss Ah Toy is expecting me, but if you can contact her, I am certain she will vouch for our friendship.”

  The guard stepped back inside the guard house and returned momentarily.

  “You may go up, Missus Foltz. Miss Ah Toy will be expecting you. Just tell the butler, Hannigan. He’ll answer the door.”

  As Clara walked inside the gardens, she could look out over the hill. The entire City of San Francisco lay at her feet, and she understood why the wealthy wanted to be so high above everything. It gave one a God-like perspective. However, as she walked up the steps leading to the front entrance, the darkly ominous presence of the giant house cast a spell over her.

  After raising the large brass ball knocker and letting it fall against the redwood, the door was immediately opened, and a short, thin and red-haired man dressed in black tails and a ribbon necktie, stood before her. “Missus Foltz?” She nodded. “Please follow me. I’ll be escorting you to Miss Ah Toy’s room on the second floor.”

  The inside of the house was also dark, and she almost wanted to grab onto the butler’s tails so she wouldn’t get lost, but her eyes gradually became accustomed to the shadows. He took the stairs on the left, but before following him, she briefly looked down another gas lit flight of stairs in front of her. She could see that it led to the main drawing room below, and there were various paintings hanging on the walls, with two rows of benches for viewing the artwork.

  The butler opened the door, and her old friend stood there to greet her. “Portia of the Pacific! My knight in shining armor! How are you, my dear friend?”

  Clara knew not to hug the woman, as she was a reserved Chinawoman, raised in the old Chinese traditions. However, her speech was never reserved, as one would assume of a former “woman of disrepute.” She was as tall as Clara, about five feet nine, and she had a respectful, sideward glance that made her brown eyes glisten when she raised her head to look at you.

  The attorney also knew Ah Toy’s clothing would be flamboyantly colorful and fantastic, and it was. She wore a long black silk dress called a qipao that extended down to cover her bound feet, and its front was adorned with an Asiatic, golden dragon, holding in its mouth an American eagle. The poor bird was obviously trying, quite unsuccessfully, to escape. Clara felt pristine and underdressed in her royal blue dress, with a slight bustle in the rear, that buttoned up to her neck in the front.

  They sat together on the red couch with violet grapes adorning the pattern. Ah Toy’s raven hair still shined, but it was graying at her temples, and there were white strands throughout the crown and down her pigtail. She was now fifty-six-years-old, but she had few wrinkles, and her wide smile and dazzling white teeth could still captivate.

  “Carrie, how is your most wonderful family? I trust they are healthy, and your children are attending the best schools.”

  Clara had never introduced Ah Toy to her family, but she had often told her stories about what they were doing. Ah Toy was one of the few people Clara allowed to call her “Carrie,” her given name at birth in Indiana. Family given names were very important to the Chinese. Ah Toy had begun her career as a seductress on her voyage to San Francisco from Hong Kong. Her husband had died on the trip, so she took up with the captain and become his mistress. When she landed in San Francisco, she had enough money to start her own harlotry business.

  “Yes, my family is well. They are all staying in San Jose until I can save enough to move them to San Francisco. That is actually one of the reasons I have come. I now believe I might be able to make enough money to be with my family again.” Clara leaned forward and grasped Ah Toy’s hands. She searched her friend’s face for a reaction.

  “How wonderful! Please, tell me the details.”

  “I need an interpreter for a new job. Believe it or not, I am now employed by the Six Companies of Chinatown. They are paying me one hundred dollars per hour to represent them in their legal problems.” Clara didn’t know how this news would affect her friend, but she wasn’t surprised when Ah Toy rose to the challenge immediately.

  “Of course, you do! I know those slant-eyed monkeys like the wallet inside a sailor’s bellbottoms. I have a lot of time on my hands these days. Missus Hopkins is oh so slow to choose her art! I want some excitement, and now you have appeared. What will we be working on?” Ah Toy’s brown eyes glowed.

  “I am s
orry, but I really don’t have any very specific information at this point. The only facts of which I am aware concern a murder of a white prostitute who was killed inside one of the Companies’ whore houses. Fourteen Tongs have been arrested already, and the Captain of Detectives, Jeremiah Lees, will be meeting to question the leaders of the Six Companies tomorrow at one PM. Andrew Kwong, the English-speaking leader of my employers, was the only person I had to trust as a translator. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

  “I know Andy Kwong. He has business interests all over the spectrum. Don’t let him fool you, Carrie. He profits from all the sin trade. He just converted to Christianity to trick the white authorities. That newspaper, The Oriental, is a propaganda mouth of the Methodist Church. He runs that so he can run his whore houses, opium dens, and gambling parlors. He has his son, George, do most of the reporting.”

  “You see? That is why I need you as my interpreter. You not only speak the language, but you also have inside knowledge of the community. However, they are my clients, so my profession requires me to do my best to represent their interests.” Clara stood up. “Can you meet me tomorrow at noon in the basement of the Tin How Temple? I can pay you for your trouble.”

  Ah Toy stood up and raised her right hand. “Stop! I will be there, but I don’t need your money. I am an independently wealthy dowager, Carrie. When Missus Hopkins buys my artwork, I will have even more money. I am doing this because I love you, and I want some excitement in my life again.”

  Clara was surprised when Ah Toy walked toward her, in her bound, mincing gait, and grasped her by the shoulders with both hands. “I missed you, my friend. You are one of the few women who never judged me because of my profession, and I want to thank you for that. I also thank you for including me in your new adventure.”

  “I know you will help me make the right choices. Even after what you told me about Mister Kwong, I still believe he was sincere about wanting his people to have the right to become American citizens. That would include you, of course, my dear friend.” Clara reached up and squeezed Ah Toy’s hands.