The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  “Of course. I wore this just for her,” Dolly said with a wink.

  “My husband says I can work here once a week,” Mei Lien said. “I will help with anything you ask of me.”

  “Thank you,” Dolly said. “We’d love to have you.”

  Not long after Mei Lien entered, Ah-Peen Oie walked in with her husband and her adopted baby, a child who had been abandoned at the mission home. Ah-Peen Oie had been quick to take over the care of the child. Dolly watched the interaction between Mei Lien and Ah-Peen Oie as they exclaimed over each other’s children.

  Dolly couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two women interacting. She knew that only by the grace of God had the former slave and slave owner been able to discover their paths of forgiveness.

  Among all the speeches, the Chinese girls sang two of Dolly’s favorite songs: “Just One Touch” and “That Man of Calvary.”

  In response to the spoken and sung accolades, Dolly concluded with, “As we begin to enumerate our blessings they appear to multiply. There are so many bright and hopeful things in this work we should never be discouraged. With God all things are possible.”

  With the dedication over, Dolly spent the next days and weeks helping Tien prepare to travel to Philadelphia for her college education. Tien had promised over and over she would return to the mission home. Dolly could only pray that her dear young friend would. Time marched forward, and the moment of farewell had arrived as Dolly and Mei Lien faced Tien on the train platform where she would begin the first leg of her journey. Miss Ferree would travel across the country with Tien, then return to the mission home.

  Dolly hugged Miss Ferree and said, “Thank you for taking her, and I will see you in a few weeks.”

  Next, Mei Lien and Tien embraced. “You have been a light in my life,” Mei Lien told the young interpreter. “If only I can be like you someday.”

  Tien beamed a smile, then wiped at the tears on her face. “Don’t let your babies forget Auntie Wu.”

  “I won’t,” Mei Lien said.

  Next Tien turned to Dolly and grasped her hands. “I will return. You will see.”

  Dolly smiled, although the tears had already started. “I am so proud of you. From the first moment I met you, I knew there would be no stopping your ambitions.”

  “I gave you such a hard time,” Tien mused, her expression contrite.

  “You were a child,” Dolly said. “A child who’d been crushed in body, but never in spirit.”

  And then the two women were embracing and crying. Dolly had been through many emotional upheavals in her life, but this one was the most bittersweet. She was so happy for Tien, yet her heart already ached with the many years that would pass before they were reunited.

  Tien drew away first, her dark eyes flashing with determination. “I will pray for you every day, Lo Mo.”

  And Dolly knew she would. “We will all be praying for our dear Tien.”

  Dolly stood arm in arm with Mei Lien as the two of them watched Tien walk toward the waiting train. Just before she boarded, she turned and waved. Her countenance glowed with new opportunity and the fortitude she’d been born with.

  Mei Lien, patient as always, waited with Dolly as the train pulled out of the station and the crowds disappeared. Only when they were the last ones on the platform did Dolly turn. One step forward, and then another. It was all she could do—all she could ever do. But her heart brimmed with happiness for Tien.

  Her step paused when she saw Officer Cook standing near the train office. Smoke trailed from his cigarette, and his expression was grim. Was he here by coincidence? Or had he come to see Tien off? If so, he’d just missed her.

  Dolly led Mei Lien to where Cook waited.

  “We have an urgent situation,” he said in a low voice, his gaze moving from Dolly to Mei Lien.

  “You can speak in front of Mei Lien,” Dolly said. “She is a volunteer at the mission home now.”

  Officer Cook’s brows furrowed. “Can she interpret?”

  “I speak English well enough,” Mei Lien said. “I can help.”

  Dolly snapped her gaze to Mei Lien. “You don’t have to—this is far different from teaching music or—”

  “I want to help,” Mei Lien insisted. Her luminous eyes focused on Dolly. “Please.”

  Dolly still hesitated.

  But Cook had no such reservations. “The tong rivals are fighting over a girl,” he said. “They are in negotiations right now. Whatever happens, whoever comes out on top, the girl will lose.”

  Dolly nodded, her jaw clenched. “Take us there.”

  “We will need backup,” Cook said. “And I don’t know how safe the rescue mission will be.”

  “If you’re still in the war, then so am I.” Dolly nodded to Mei Lien. “We already have our interpreter.”

  “Very well.” Cook stubbed out his cigarette. “We’ll take a buggy to the Hall of Justice, and I’ll get a few men to come with us for backup.”

  Dolly and Mei Lien next found themselves in the buggy with Cook traveling to the newly built Hall of Justice on Washington and Kearny Streets. Officers Green and Riordan joined them, and soon the Chinatown squad walked together along the newly built streets.

  Cook moved alongside Dolly and said, “The Chinese girl, Sai Mui, was brought from China as a paper daughter and forced into prostitution some months ago.”

  Dolly nodded, keeping her chin lifted, although her stomach had plummeted. So Sai Mui had already suffered terror and abuse.

  “She escaped the slave owner who made her work on May Fong Alley,” Cook continued, lighting another cigarette. “But she chose the wrong place to take refuge.”

  “Not the mission home,” Dolly said in a quiet voice.

  “Not the mission home,” Cook confirmed. “A rival tong group got ahold of her. Sai Mui’s slave owner demanded her back, but the rival tong refused, so the slave owner agreed to settle on a price for the girl.” He inhaled on his cigarette, then tossed it into the gutter. “The meeting should be taking place now . . . bartering over the price of a human.”

  The disgust in his voice echoed that in Dolly’s mind.

  Her step slowed as they approached the building. Officer Riordan skipped any knocking or shouting and instead tried the door first. It was locked, but he made quick work of opening it with a single strike of his sledgehammer.

  The main level was empty, and they climbed two flights of stairs as silently as possible. Before they reached the top of the landing, Dolly put up a hand to tell everyone to wait. Moving up another step or two, she spotted a guard standing before a heavy door, tightly shut.

  Dolly turned to Mei Lien. “Go up there and ask him to open the door. Tell him you have an important errand.” She could see that the brand-new interpreter was nervous, but Mei Lien stepped forward.

  After a short conversation, the guard opened the door for her. Dolly hurried up the last few stairs with the policemen, and they pushed through the unlocked door.

  “Stop there,” the doorkeeper called, but there was nothing one man could do against the five of them. So he shouted a warning to whoever could hear him in the building.

  On the floor above, something crashed, and it sounded like furniture was being dragged around. Panicked voices rose. Dolly and her group pounded up the last set of steps, and Officer Cook banged on the door with his fist. “Open up! Or we’ll break this door down!”

  The bolts slid open, and Dolly entered the sparse room.

  More than a dozen Chinese men stared back at her, most of them sitting with folded arms.

  “Where is Sai Mui?” she asked immediately, and Mei Lien translated in a trembling but determined voice. Dolly had no doubt that Mei Lien knew some of the men in this room.

  “There are no girls here,” one of the tong said in a smooth voice.

  Behind the man, t
he window was open; on instinct, Dolly rushed to it. Peering out, she saw a man below, looking up. When their gazes connected, he pointed upward. Had Sai Mui gone through the skylight? And the only place to go from there was to the next house.

  She withdrew from the window and told Mei Lien and the policemen, “Follow me.”

  They hurried out of the house and into the next, bypassing a guard who didn’t give their group any trouble. They searched every room but found no Sai Mui.

  Dolly and Mei Lien checked in every closet and beneath each bed, calling for the young woman. The policemen rumbled through the house, moving furniture and tapping on walls.

  Finally, Dolly stopped before a cupboard pushed against the bedroom wall at an angle. She wrenched the heavy piece from the wall and found a young woman crouched behind it like a mouse hiding from a cat. The young woman’s eyes were dark, her skin sallow with illness, and her lips were chapped and sore.

  Dolly stooped and held out her hand. “Come with us, and you will be safe.”

  When Mei Lien repeated the words in Chinese, Sai Mui nodded and grasped Dolly’s hand.

  Dolly pulled the trembling girl to her feet, and the women flanked her as they walked out of the room and down the stairs. “We found her!” Dolly called out so the policemen could hear.

  She didn’t miss Mei Lien’s tears of relief—and perhaps of remembered trauma. Dolly knew her own tears would come eventually.

  When Officer Cook appeared at the base of the stairs the women were descending, his expression held stark relief. He did a quick scan of the girl, who seemed to be walking fine; then he nodded.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered the other officers. “Riordan, you take the rear. There’s a crowd outside.”

  Dolly kept hold of one of Sai Mui’s arms as they stepped outside. Sure enough, a crowd had gathered. Would they be yelled at? Would Sai Mui be forced from their grasp?

  One look at Officer Cook’s tense shoulders and tight grip on his sledgehammer told her this could turn into a terrible brawl, should the crowd turn aggressive.

  “Cross the street,” Cook commanded, guiding their group to the other side so they avoided walking past the original building where the tong had been in their meeting.

  Four of the tong men stood in front of the doorway, arms folded, eyes narrowed. Above, leaning out the second-floor window, were the other tong men, watching every movement.

  Dolly’s mouth felt as dry as a desert, and her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest. She expected a fight to break out at any moment. There were simply too many people to maneuver around. But the crowd of Chinese onlookers didn’t try to recapture Sai Mui. Instead, they parted, making way for their group.

  Then, a woman shouted, “Save our girls!”

  “Let them through!” a man called out.

  More joined in until everyone in the street was calling out encouragement. Chanting began as the people cheered for the rescue.

  Dolly was stunned. The clapping, cheering, and support took her breath away and made her feel like she was walking a foot above the earth.

  Here she was, walking through the newly built Chinatown, which held the same secrets, the same depravity, the same lost souls . . . yet light had crept in and taken hold. The Chinese people were taking a stand against the corruption that had plagued their corner of the world.

  It was then that Dolly knew slavery would come to an end.

  Not that day, or that year.

  But the tong were outnumbered. The slave girls no longer feared Fahn Quai.

  Dolly’s group pushed forward, walking through neighborhood after neighborhood, leading a sort of impromptu procession. As they traveled, more Chinese came out of their homes and their businesses, curious. When they saw what was happening, they joined in the cheering. The celebration. Mei Lien beamed, tears streaking her face, and Dolly knew this moment was a triumph for them all.

  She had been thanked countless times and shown gratitude in many ways, but not until today had she understood the impact of her work upon future generations. There was no separating Donaldina Cameron from her calling to help rescue and serve her Chinese daughters. And no matter what might face her, or what might come, she planned to embrace the future.

  With her whole heart.

  By the time the policemen had finished escorting Dolly, Mei Lien, and Sai Mui to the mission home, humble tears streamed down Dolly’s cheeks.

  “We are here,” Dolly told Sai Mui as they stepped up to the double doors of the mission home.

  “Will I be safe here?” Sai Mui whispered in her native tongue, keeping a tight hold on Dolly’s hand.

  Dolly understood the simple question and replied in kind. “Yes. You are home, dear Sai Mui. You are home.”

  Donaldina Cameron continued as the director of the mission home until her retirement in 1934, after thirty-nine years with the mission. In 1942, the mission home was renamed the Cameron House. When the numbers of girls being rescued decreased throughout the late 1930s, and the Chinese Exclusion Act was repealed in 1943, the needs of the Chinatown community shifted. The Cameron House began to focus on expanding its offerings to social services for women and faith-based programs for youth (CameronHouse.org).

  In the early 1900s, Nathaniel Tooker attended one of the general assemblies at the mission home with his two sisters, Mary and Gertrude (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 74). Over the years, Nathaniel was an advocate of the rescue work, crossing paths with Donaldina many times. They attended fundraising functions together, and soon Nathaniel proposed. Donaldina accepted (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 143–47). But she received hard news in July 1911, informing her by telegram that Nathaniel had died (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 152). Another setback for Donaldina, to be sure.

  Donaldina dreamed of a home for the Chinese boys, and another home for the younger Chinese girls, primarily so that they wouldn’t be influenced by the difficulties and sometimes harsh habits of the women who had come from brothels and abusive situations. Donaldina also wanted the children to be able to play outdoors in a safe environment. By 1912, there were some seventy residents at the mission home (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 157). The mission board worked tirelessly raising funds, and on Donaldina’s visit back east to her beloved friends Mary and Gertrude Tooker, they surprised her with a $2,000 donation. More fundraising continued, and the Tooker sisters donated another $5,000. At 953 East Eleventh Street, Donaldina located a large Victorian home with a fenced yard. Named the Nathaniel Tooker Presbyterian Home for the Chinese, in honor of Nathaniel, soon the place was home to thirty-two children, with Miss Nora Banks as director and Ida Lee as assistant (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 163–65).

  Donaldina also founded the Ming Quong Home for Chinese girls. It was built in 1925, and Donaldina served as the superintendent until 1930, after which Ethel Higgins took over. In addition, Donaldina spearheaded the Chung Mei Home for homeless and orphaned Chinese boys. The Chung Mei Home was first located in an old wooden building in Berkeley, but eventually it moved to a larger location.

  True to her promise, Tien Fu Wu returned to the mission home after six years of education in Pennsylvania and Canada. Tien had no problem jumping right into service and shared in Donaldina’s burdens (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 153). In 1916, Tien traveled to China to fulfill her lifelong dream of finding the family she had been abducted from. Unfortunately, the search was futile (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 176). Tien worked faithfully at Donaldina’s side, and she was affectionately called Auntie Wu by the girls at the mission home. When Tien retired in 1952, she moved into a cottage across from Donaldina’s home (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 283). On January 4, 1968, Donaldina took her last breath after being in the hospital. Her Chinese daughter, dear Tien, was at her side (Martin, Chinatown’s Angry Angel, 293).

  Today, the Cameron House continues serving the needs of imm
igrant Asian families in San Francisco. Services offered include counseling, domestic violence intervention, food distribution, support groups, youth after-school and summer programs, adult ESL and computer classes, leadership development, and volunteer opportunities. See the website, CameronHouse.org, for ways to give, donate, volunteer, or get involved.

  The National Human Trafficking website defines human trafficking as: “the business of stealing freedom for profit. In some cases, traffickers trick, defraud or physically force victims into providing commercial sex. In others, victims are lied to, assaulted, threatened or manipulated into working under inhumane, illegal or otherwise unacceptable conditions. It is a multi-billion dollar criminal industry that denies freedom to 24.9 million people around the world” (HumanTraffickingHotline.org).

  How prevalent is human trafficking in the United States? “In 2017, Polaris worked on 8,759 cases of human trafficking reported to the Polaris-operated National Human Trafficking Hotline and BeFree Textline. These cases involved 10,615 individual victims; nearly 5,000 potential traffickers and 1,698 trafficking businesses” (https://humantraffickinghotline.org/what-human-trafficking).

  What can you do to stem the tide and become aware of needs in your community? There are various organizations hard at work fighting this terrible blight on our society. Awareness, education, and support are all imperative. One organization to which I personally donate is Operation Underground Railroad: OurRescue.org.

  When Heidi Taylor and Lisa Mangum sent me this story idea in the fall of 2018, I had no notion of the breathtaking journey I would undertake through researching the life of Donaldina Cameron. I had never heard specifically about Miss Cameron or her contribution toward thwarting the slave trade of Chinatown, but each day—in fact, every hour—I was drawn deeper into the unforgettable experiences of a woman, and the remarkable staff members and volunteers at the mission home, who personified a life of sacrifice and brought hope to so many downtrodden women and girls of San Francisco.