by Helen Zia
By November 1948, newspapers were headlining the mass exodus under way:
CHINESE RUSH TO GET OUT OF SHANGHAI: The stampede to get out of Shanghai gained momentum yesterday….At the North station an unprecedented crowd fought to purchase tickets and get aboard trains which were already jam-packed….In the afternoon four persons were trampled to death during the rush to board the train. On the Bund, crowds were prevented from climbing aboard overladen ships by seamen with firehoses who played streams of water and kept them back.
* * *
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AS THE NEW YEAR APPROACHED, Elder Sister and Kristian decided it was time to go. They ended their debate and opted for Denmark, their surest path. They’d go by boat to the States, then by train to New York and take another boat to Denmark. There was a lot to be done: Find tickets for a ship out of Shanghai; obtain Danish passports and U.S. visas; purchase a required five-hundred-dollar bond for each of them in case the U.S. government needed to deport them.
Getting their Danish passports and U.S. visas from the consulates in Shanghai was easy, while getting tickets out, even for a foreigner, was near impossible. Ticket agents at the train stations, airports, and shipping docks were mobbed with people fighting for a seat to anywhere. “Who do you know?” became the most valuable currency of all as desperate people sought help from every friend and acquaintance.
Bing read articles in Kristian’s English newspaper about panic selling:
MOTORCARS, APARTMENTS, CHEAP, BUT NO BUYERS
The steadily worsening political and military situation has brought a sharp increase in the local supply of apartments, houses, motorcars, electric refrigerators and household goods. Many Shanghai residents who are in a hurry to leave before the storm breaks have found that their properties formerly valued in the thousands of American dollars have suddenly melted away.
Panic filled the hotel room when, on January 31, 1949, the Red Army seized Beijing not long after taking the nearby port city of Tianjin. Bing had never seen Elder Sister so anxious. Now there was nothing to keep the Communists from pushing south to the capital in Nanjing—and then to Shanghai.
In a great stroke of good luck, the next day Elder Sister connected with a business agent she’d known during the occupation. In exchange for almost two thousand U.S. dollars, some fine English furniture that she procured from a vacant apartment, and several bolts of cloth, she bartered and bought four first-class tickets on the General Gordon, departing on May 4, 1949, bound for San Francisco.
As the family celebrated its good fortune, Elder Sister whispered to Bing, “Don’t worry. I will find a way to bring you too.” Bing shrugged, not knowing how she could get a passport when she didn’t even know her own birth date. But Elder Sister surprised her by producing a blue Republic of China passport—with her name and photo in it! It listed Singapore as her birthplace and a birth date that added a year to her age. Elder Sister said one of her dance-club friends had helped her get the passport as a special favor.
Inside the passport was another surprise: a tourist visa for America! Elder Sister bragged that to get the visa she had visited another dance-club friend—an American who worked at the consulate. The midlevel clerk had invited Betty and her girlfriends to parties at his apartment a few times—and sharp-eyed Elder Sister had noticed that he brought the visa stamps home each night for safekeeping. She arranged another visit to his place, and while her girlfriends distracted him, Elder Sister stamped Bing’s passport with an official visitor visa. “Now I just need to find a ticket for you—and I will!” Elder Sister declared. Though Bing remained skeptical, she couldn’t help feeling an electric thrill.
But Elder Sister and Kristian still had more to do for their own exits. Getting the required five-hundred-dollar bond through an agent recognized in the United States was proving more difficult than getting the tickets. With time growing short, Kristian decided to trust a European friend who said his relative could get the bond. Kristian gave a few thousand U.S. dollars to the friend’s relative. Then the man disappeared. After a frantic search, Kristian could only conclude that his friend’s relative had absconded with the cash. Bing had never seen him so furious, his pale face bright red, with his veins bulging out of his neck. After many angry words, Kristian’s friend paid back half of the stolen funds. The rest was lost, but at least the family eventually managed to obtain the necessary bonds.
The Communist forces had almost reached the Yangtze River by April 1949. Nationalist general Tang Enbo, the Nationalist commander in chief of the defense of Shanghai, decided to build a ten-foot wooden wall around the city’s perimeter. The beleaguered citizens scoffed at such folly, saying the only purpose of the fence was to enrich Tang’s friends in the lumber business. It was evident to all that a wall would do nothing to stop the Communist advance.
By May 2, the panicked clamor to escape had become so intense that the China National Aviation Corporation announced that it had suspended its flight schedules, allowing passengers to board almost immediately and planes to depart as soon as they were full.
As the Communist armies made their way south toward Shanghai in 1949, boats large and small were overloaded with people and cargo on the Huangpu River along the Bund, trying to get out of the city.
As the family’s departure date approached, the Red Army captured several nearby cities including Suzhou, Hangzhou, and Nanjing. Elder Sister and Kristian anxiously awaited their May 4 sailing date, as the Communists now seemed poised to encircle Shanghai.
* * *
—
BING PREPARED HERSELF TO be left behind again. She didn’t care, she told herself. Still, she was aware that Elder Sister continued searching for another ticket even as she prepared to leave, asking everyone she knew if they had a single ticket on the General Gordon. Bing never expected Elder Sister to find one.
Then just a day before the ship was due to depart, the telephone rang. One of Elder Sister’s contacts had a relative who had changed his mind about leaving and was having trouble finding someone with a passport and visa to buy his ticket. Elder Sister snatched it up for three hundred U.S. dollars. When she returned with it in hand, she was ebullient. “I got you a ticket—you’re coming to America with us; start packing!” she shouted.
Bing couldn’t trust herself to respond to Elder Sister’s announcement. Incredulous, she could only ask, “But what about Ma?”
Elder Sister had a ready answer. “Everything is set. Ma has her sisters here. She thinks it’s a good idea for you to come along with me, to help me with the boys.”
It was true. When they went to Ma’s place that afternoon, she was waiting for Bing. “You should go with Elder Sister. You can help take care of each other.” Then she reached under her bed and pulled out a small weathered valise. “I carried this when I first came to Shanghai. Now I give it to you.”
After so many harsh words from Ma, Bing was unprepared for this kindness. In the ten years that Bing had lived with her, there had been only a few moments of softness when she had shown that she cared. Then again, the mother who had given birth to Bing in Changzhou had abandoned her. And so had Mama Hsu. Ma was the one who had not only kept her but also taken her back after she ran away. Bing felt a twinge of sadness at leaving, but at least Ma wouldn’t be alone.
Then there was Ah Mei. Saying goodbye to her one and only friend would be the hardest. Bing would not only miss the birth of her best friend’s child, but the two might never see each other again, since Ah Mei and her Iranian Jewish husband were planning to go with other Jews to Israel after the baby came. But Ah Mei was happy for Bing’s good fortune, chiding her friend, “Don’t be sad—we’re both starting our new lives.”
Bing had few regrets about leaving Shanghai and China. She knew that once she was on the ship she would never see her baba again. Bing felt that familiar stab to her heart. But now she had to think about herself. She had never
dared to dream before. In Denmark, or America, or wherever she landed she’d make a fresh start. Now it was time to leave the bad luck behind. The very thought offered her an unfamiliar feeling: hope.
The next day, everyone rose early on their final morning in Shanghai. They had to get to the American President Lines docks on the Huangpu River with enough time to get through customs. Ma said goodbye to them at the apartment. She patted the boys on their heads and nodded to Kristian. She told Elder Sister to write and send money when she could. Then Ma surprised Bing by reaching for her hand. “I know you only remember the times that I cursed you,” Ma said. “It was for your own good. Don’t forget what I taught you. You’ve been a good daughter; take care of yourself.”
Bing tried to say something back, but her words stuck in her throat. She nodded goodbye to the only mother she’d really known.
With that, Elder Sister, the two boys, and Kristian piled into the car that he had arranged. The four had so much luggage that there wasn’t room for Bing. Instead, she took her valise and climbed into a pedicab headed toward the Bund.
* * *
—
BING ARRIVED AT THE SHANGHAI Hongkou Wharf late and flustered after almost getting struck by a car driven by some college boy on his way to Taiwan. When she found Elder Sister, just in time to check in for the voyage, Bing could finally calm herself. Standing in line to check in, she scanned her surroundings slowly, trying to etch these last moments in Shanghai into her memory. Everyone looked charged with emotion—alive with excitement for the imminent journey, anxious for an uncertain future, relieved at the chance to escape. Kristian was actually jovial to be leaving the chaos of Shanghai. “It was a great city, but it’s become a hellhole,” he declared, his parting words.
From out of nowhere, Ah Mei and her husband appeared. Somehow Bing’s heavily pregnant friend had managed to make her way through the crush until she found Bing and the family. Bing and Ah Mei clasped hands and remembered how they had held each other tight during their first years together as two lonely, abandoned girls. They promised to meet up again one day, knowing it would probably never happen.
Once on the deck of the General Gordon, Bing could see the skyline of the Bund stretched before her. She almost expected to be put ashore and told that there had been a mistake. Before that could happen, she found her way down to the third-class deck, where there were only hammocks left to choose from. She didn’t know how she would manage to climb into one. Deciding she’d worry about that later, she took the stairs to the first-class level to see Elder Sister’s cabin. Like the third-class deck, it was cramped, with six others in the small room in addition to Elder Sister and Peter: a German matron and her three half-Chinese daughters, plus a Chinese woman from the Philippines with her daughter. Kristian and Ole went to their similarly crowded cabin in the men’s section.
Standing back on the main deck near Elder Sister, Kristian, and the boys, Bing was surrounded by a jubilant crowd of Europeans, Americans, and Chinese. To the shy teenager, the other passengers seemed so sharp and sophisticated, speaking English, French, and Mandarin in cultured, high-class tones. There were Americans on their way home, some born and raised in Shanghai, others who had come seeking fortune and adventure in the arms of the Paris of the Orient; nuns dressed in long black habits that looked so heavy and hot, leaving behind a lifetime of missionary work; Jewish refugees from Europe who had escaped the gruesome Nazi death camps only to find themselves in Shanghai, now finally on their journey to freedom in America. And so many fancy-looking Chinese in Western suits and beautiful dresses.
The captain sounded several deep, plaintive bellows of the ship’s horn, and the General Gordon pulled away from the dock. Bing mustered a halfhearted wave toward shore.
“Goodbye, Baba.” Bing felt her chest tighten in that empty place. “I’ll never find you now,” she whispered.
“Goodbye, Mama Hsu. I hope you made it safely through the war years.
“Goodbye, Shanghai.”
Bing’s eyes grew watery, but no tears fell. She wished to leave behind the bitterness and struggle, bad luck and loss, that she had known in Shanghai. No one would ever call an abandoned girl like her lucky, yet good fortune must have touched her. After all, she had made it this far, she mused, squaring her shoulders. Shanghai had offered her a refuge from the worst cruelties of the war years. Now it was time to go.
* * *
—
THE MORE THAN THREE WEEKS at sea passed by in one sickening blur. Each morning, Bing gingerly climbed off her hammock after a fitful night of swaying to the roll of the ship. On good days she managed to swallow some hot tea and a bite of the unappealing foreign food in the third-class mess hall. Then she headed to the first-class level for a woozy day with Elder Sister and the boys. By dinnertime, she was ready for her hammock deep below the main deck.
Bing couldn’t wait to reach land. But when the ship pulled into San Francisco Bay, the immigration inspectors took her to the purser’s office and refused to let her disembark. Bing felt her body freeze in fear. Did they notice that her passport and visa were fake? Would she be hauled off to jail in America? Or worse, sent back to Shanghai?
When Bing failed to appear at the departure area, Elder Sister stormed through the ship until she found her. Flashing her friendliest smile as she sized up the immigration agents, Elder Sister said in her most dulcet tones, “My young sister’s English isn’t so good, sir. Can I help you in any way?”
Unimpressed, he answered brusquely: “We have no record that your sister possesses the five-hundred-dollar bond required to enter the United States. She’s young and Chinese—if she goes illegal, we’ll catch her and need the five hundred dollars to send her back. Without it, she can’t get off the ship.”
Suddenly the problem was clear: Bing’s ticket had been purchased in such haste that there had been no time to get the bond in advance of sailing. Elder Sister had hoped the oversight would go unnoticed. Now they needed to get a bond for Bing as soon as possible, before the ship headed back to sea. If they didn’t, Bing would have to stay on board, sailing on to points unknown.
Kristian was dispatched into the city to find an agent who could issue the five-hundred-dollar bond. Purchasing the bond for Bing would require digging into the family’s limited cash. Elder Sister and the boys waited on shore while Bing was detained on the ship.
Hours later, as the sun fell behind the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, Kristian returned triumphant. Bing was unceremoniously released after the immigration inspector marked her passport with a visa for a six-month stay. “Welcome to America,” one agent offered flatly.
Elder Sister had not sat idle. As her boys chased seagulls nearby, she had managed to strike up conversations with friendly men eager to assist a beautiful damsel in distress. Through their leads, she learned of an inexpensive rooming house on nearby Columbus Avenue where the family could spend the night.
When they reached the house, Bing was surprised to find that the proprietors were Japanese. At first Bing tensed up. The terrible memories of war were still fresh in the mind of every Chinese. There had been few Japanese left in Shanghai once they were rounded up and repatriated. But these Japanese were American, speaking English with American accents. Elder Sister and Kristian didn’t seem worried. Bing relaxed.
After dropping off their bags and freshening up, they set out for dinner. Passing by a newsstand, they were stunned to learn that two days earlier the Communists had taken over their city. Shanghai had fallen! Elder Sister kept repeating, “Oh my God!” and Kristian kept muttering in Danish as they pored over the reports. They gave thanks upon learning that the takeover had been largely peaceful. Bing closed her eyes with thoughts of Ma and Ah Mei, grateful that the city had been spared the mass destruction it had suffered during the Japanese war.
They soon found themselves in an area called Chinatown. Bing admired the strangeness of Ame
rica: Compared to Shanghai, the streets were clean, and the air smelled fresh, and when she had stepped off the ship, the sun had been so strong, her eyes had hurt. There were no crumbled buildings, no bomb craters, no façades riddled by machine-gun bullets. Not a single hint of war.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she held on to Ole’s and Peter’s hands. “Can you see how different this place is from home? Not even this Chinatown is like China. Welcome to America,” she said, smiling at their bright-eyed faces.
ANN ARBOR, JUNE 1948
From the moment Ho Chow arrived at the University of Michigan in September 1947 to pursue a PhD in engineering, his life in Ann Arbor had gone smoothly, almost without a hitch. Having met several other graduate students on his ship from Shanghai, Ho rented an apartment with five other Chinese students at 428 Cross Street, near the campus. Then it was every man for himself, since neither he nor any of his roommates had ever cooked or cleaned for themselves before.
