by Helen Zia
Pausing occasionally between volleys, she’d stop to look at the baby. Then she’d start again. Bing said nothing, suddenly flashing back to her days as a young girl trying to survive Ma. I don’t miss this about Ma—or Elder Sister, Bing realized.
When Elder Sister finally calmed down, she told Bing that Kristian had convalesced slowly while she waited in Copenhagen with Ole and Peter. It hadn’t taken long for Betty to conclude that she could not possibly live in Denmark. “The food is terrible; the weather is bad; it’s dark all day long in the winter. That’s why the people are pale as ghosts. I can’t live like that—and I won’t.”
Kristian didn’t want to stay in Denmark either. He feared that the Cold War with the Soviet Union could heat up into another war in Europe. He’d always wanted to move to Australia—and so they’d hit the same impasse as when they’d plotted their escape from Shanghai. This time they’d decided to split up. Kristian would take the boys to Australia, and Betty would return to the United States. He wouldn’t contest a divorce should she seek one.
Bing was stunned to learn that Elder Sister was actually going to end her marriage. Bing had thought Betty had been bluffing all along with Lee, the San Francisco man who had paid their expenses for months. In a small voice, Bing asked if this meant Elder Sister was going to get together with Lee. Elder Sister looked blank. “Oh, him? He’ll get over it.” Bing marveled at Elder Sister’s ability to land on her feet, whether in San Francisco, Denmark, or occupied Shanghai. Now she was going to take on New York.
Kristian and the boys left Denmark for Australia via Italy. As Elder Sister had predicted, Kristian was allowed ashore when the Italian liner pulled into Sydney Harbour in January 1951, but his biracial Eurasian sons were not. One Australian newspaper headline queried: “CAN THESE TWO STAY HERE? Immigration officers today temporarily banned from landing two Danish-Chinese children who arrived by ship from Genoa with their Danish father.”
Australia’s white supremacist policies were so politically charged that the arrival of Peter and Ole, seven and eleven, had violated those race laws. It was big news. After some bureaucratic juggling because of the boys’ youth, the national government in Canberra decided to allow them to join their father temporarily until the national government could decide whether to let the half-Chinese boys remain. When Elder Sister learned of her sons’ ordeal, she was incensed—and vindicated. “Can you believe how those Australians treated my boys? They’d never have let me off the ship. And I’d never let them treat me like a second-class person. I was right not to go there!”
Elder Sister rented an apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, near Columbia University and the cluster of educated uptown Shanghainese. This came as no surprise to Bing, knowing how much appearances mattered to Elder Sister—she could never live downtown. Bing was pleased that Elder Sister was close enough to visit and far enough to keep John calm.
Bing was caught unaware, however, by the stream of surprised questions from her Chinatown friends after they met Betty. “Are you really sisters?” they asked. “You’re so different in every way.” Yes, they were sisters, the two assured everyone.
Elder Sister reminded Bing not tell anyone—not even John—that she was adopted: “People can be cruel. Don’t give them reasons to look down on you. Me and you, we’re as good as blood sisters.”
With all her heart, Bing felt that Betty was a true sister. When friends got a bit too curious, she’d throw them off with a quick answer. Bing’s close friend Maybing especially liked to probe.
“Where in Shanghai did you live?” she asked.
“Off Avenue Joffre,” Bing had answered truthfully, naming the biggest and longest street in the former French Concession.
“Which school did you attend?”
This was harder to answer because Maybing had been a teacher in Shanghai.
“I had to start and stop school several times during the war,” Bing said.
Bing was accustomed to saying little when conversations got personal. She’d been so invisible as a child, it wasn’t hard to make herself small. When she couldn’t evade a question, she gave a casual shrug and said, “Those are bad memories of wartime.”
That was an answer that would stop even the most curious questioner. Every Chinese knew how devastating the eight-year war with Japan had been. Few had been untouched by the suffering, misery, and loss. Among Bing’s circle of Shanghai friends, no one wished to rekindle wartime nightmares. Not even her husband. After those tragic war years, everyone had painful stories they’d rather forget. This was the time to look to the future.
* * *
—
IN THE SUMMER OF 1951, John surprised Bing by coming home from work at lunchtime. He knocked on the door, and Bing was puzzled as to why he didn’t use his key. When Bing opened it, he staggered in and collapsed on the bed. Bing couldn’t rouse him. Panicked, she didn’t know what to do. Finally, she put the baby in his crib and ran to the nearest doctor’s office, a few blocks away. The doctor was in, and he rushed back with her to Henry Street. The baby was crying, and a neighbor had come into the unlocked apartment to comfort him.
John had suffered a massive stroke. He was alive but unresponsive. The doctor called an ambulance to take John to nearby Gouverneur Hospital in Chinatown. Three weeks later, John died. From his death certificate, Bing learned for the first time that her husband had not been in his forties but in his fifties. Still, it was a shocking death for a seemingly healthy middle-aged man.
An onslaught of emotions swept over Bing: grief, anxiety, fear. Some of John’s friends blamed her for failing to call an ambulance to take him to Bellevue Hospital, which they viewed as much better. But Bing knew nothing about American ambulances, hospitals, emergency rooms. Then came all the people who claimed to be friends and associates of John’s. She’d never heard John mention most of them, but because he had worked at the Bank of China, they all seemed to think he had a lot of money. Now they contacted his widow, saying that John owed them.
Bing’s friends stood by her, helping her with the baby. John’s boss and close friend Berne Lee was John’s executor and Henry’s godfather. He helped Bing sort out John’s finances. Elder Sister comforted Bing and watched out for her interests too. John had owned a life insurance policy, a savings account with a small amount of cash, and some stocks—mostly worthless. After paying for the hospital, funeral, cemetery, and various debts, there was enough to put aside a couple thousand dollars for Henry’s education and for Bing.
Widowed at twenty-one, in a strange country, with a child not even a year old, Bing faced her new reality. Some people in Chinatown clucked that she was unlucky, that fate was unkind to her. Bing didn’t care—they had no idea how much bad luck she had already overcome, and it had made her strong. Now she was grateful for their tenement apartment. She wouldn’t have to worry about paying the eleven-dollar rent.
But there were other problems. Everyone in Chinatown knew how the INS and the FBI were hunting for Chinese to arrest and deport. Under orders from Director J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI conducted raids on Chinatown organizations and publications while openly tailing suspected Communists throughout Chinatown. At Mrs. Fung’s curio shop, the Shanghainese worried that Chinese like themselves would come under greater scrutiny. News reports said that some Chinese were being held on Ellis Island. What if they were deported—and to where? Back to Shanghai to live under the Communists?
Bing’s friends asked her if John had taken care of her immigration status. John had been a naturalized American citizen and everyone, including Elder Sister, had figured Bing would readily become one too. John had even hired a Chinatown lawyer to apply for her permanent resident status as the wife of a U.S. citizen. Concerned, Bing’s friends urged her to straighten out her status. But with so many other more pressing matters to attend to after John’s death, her immigration matters had to wait.
* * *
>
—
A FEW MONTHS AFTER John’s death, Bing ran into a Shanghai man named Frank Hsieh at Columbus Park, where she often took little Henry to play. She and John had purchased a crib from Frank, the owner of a baby-furniture store in New Jersey. Frank spoke flawless English, having studied at St. John’s University, and had lived in America for more than a decade. He had been a translator at the United Nations for a time and held a number of odd jobs before buying the baby-furniture store.
Bing was impressed by how much Frank Hsieh knew about America. He began to call on the young widow. When Bing told him about Elder Sister’s plan to get a divorce, he suggested that she file in Florida. He had been through a divorce himself and knew that courts moved faster in Florida than New York. Frank offered to take Elder Sister and Bing to Florida in his car for a short holiday. Elder Sister encouraged Bing: “Why not? He’s sweet on you, and if he’ll take us there for free, let’s go!”
Bing, Elder Sister, and baby Henry piled into Frank’s Studebaker. After a two-day drive, they were in Miami, basking in the sun. It was fun for Bing, the kind of trip she’d seen in magazines and movies. They found two rooms at a cheap motel, with Bing, Elder Sister, and Henry sharing one. Frank had been right—Elder Sister’s divorce sailed through. To celebrate, they went to a little diner near the motel on their last night. Everyone was in great spirits—until Frank and Elder Sister started talking about China.
“That Chiang Kai-shek has never worked for the best interests of the Chinese people,” Frank argued. “He robbed China blind and let the people starve to death while lining his pockets with American dollars. No wonder so many Chinese turned to the Communists.”
“What? How dare you say such garbage about the generalissimo!” demanded Elder Sister. “You must be a Commie pinko!”
Bing listened helplessly with Henry on her lap as the conversation rapidly spun out of control. In Chinatown, tempers flared whenever the issue of the “two Chinas” arose. Now her sister and her suitor were going at it. Bing knew that Elder Sister would never back down—and soon it was clear that Frank wasn’t about to either. Their voices grew louder as they began cursing in Shanghainese.
“You college boys think you’re so fucking smart,” spat Elder Sister. “You’re no better than dog shit.”
“Goddamn you, big-mouth whore. What do you know?” he shot back. “I was in Chongqing during the war; I saw it all firsthand when you were screwing white devils in Shanghai. How dare you!”
Suddenly they were throwing things. Frank tossed his drink at Elder Sister, then heaved the glass, shattering it. She slapped him, knocking his wire-rimmed glasses to the ground, breaking them. The police came and hauled Frank to the station. Elder Sister jumped up to leave, practically dragging Bing and her baby with her to catch the first bus back to New York.
On the long ride, Elder Sister fumed at Bing. “If you ever see that useless mule penis again, we can’t be sisters. It’ll be over between us!”
* * *
—
FRANK MADE IT BACK from Florida and began calling on Bing again. When he was with her, he was charming and gentle. He recited couplets by China’s great poets, and Shakespeare sonnets. He wrote beautiful love letters and poems to her. There were no signs of the angry man she had seen in Miami. They didn’t talk about the ugly incident and never mentioned Elder Sister.
Some of Bing’s friends in her Chinatown community knew Frank. As word got around about the fight in Miami, her friends warned her to stay away from him. “He can’t control his temper,” they said. “Don’t get involved with that guy.”
True to her haipai Shanghai spirit, Betty (right) was always fashionable and perfectly coiffed, even on a visit to Chinatown to see Bing and her baby in their tenement flat in 1951.
Frank kept stopping by. Bing had never had such attention lavished on her, not even from John. Whereas John had been hesitant to marry her, Frank was smitten and eager to wed. John had been cautious about spending money, while Frank wanted to take her places and didn’t worry about the expense. He was handsome and athletic, with big ideas about China, politics, world peace. Though Frank was older than Bing, he was much younger than John had turned out to be. He made her feel beautiful and wanted. Special. That was something new—and Bing liked it.
Moreover, Bing was a young single mother. What about her son’s future in this foreign land? Others warned her about Frank, but would they be around to help her when the insurance money ran out? Frank might not have been perfect, but he was educated. After dating so many waiters in San Francisco, she wasn’t sure that she’d find anyone better. Maybing’s husband had turned out to be a gambler who squandered his children’s food money at the racetrack. Elder Sister was still looking for her next husband. Even if Frank had a bad temper, she had seen his kind and loving side. Surely he would be different with her.
When Frank asked Bing to marry him, he said he’d treat Henry as his own. Bing wanted to say yes, but how would she win over Elder Sister? She knew she had to make her own decisions rather than always following the commands of the two women who had dominated her life. But then the choice was made for her: Bing discovered she was pregnant. They went to a justice of the peace and were married in late 1951, with Bing radiant in a borrowed wedding gown. Frank was overjoyed to marry this beautiful young woman—and to be an expectant first-time father.
* * *
—
BING’S NEW LIFE WAS off to a good start: Frank rented an apartment in a brand-new high-rise, complete with an elevator and basement laundromat, in Irvington, New Jersey. She was finally able to move out of the tenement with the communal toilet down the hall. Elder Sister had found a Chinese businessman to marry; she put aside her differences and invited Bing to the wedding, without Frank. Elder Sister repeated her admonition to Bing: Don’t tell anyone, especially not Frank, that you’re adopted. Even without the warning, Bing had no intention of telling Frank: She figured that if he knew that they weren’t blood sisters, he’d never let her see Elder Sister. Whenever Frank asked her a question about her life in China, Bing gave her stock answer: “The war years are bad memories that I try to forget.” Soon he stopped asking.
Just when the couple was settling down after Bing had given birth to a baby girl, she received a notice from the INS ordering her to appear at a deportation hearing. Bing tried not to panic. Her marriage to Frank, coming only eight months after John’s death, had drawn considerable disapproval in her close-knit community. Had someone reported her? Frank took Bing to the Chinatown immigration attorney whom John had hired to adjust her immigration status. The lawyer had done nothing. Now the INS was accusing her of overstaying her visitor visa, which had expired two years earlier in November 1949, right after her marriage to John. His American citizenship should have led to her permanent residency, but his death had thrown her into jeopardy. Worse yet, with the Korean War under way, Communist China was America’s enemy. Politicians in Washington were raising alarms about the Chinese threat in America. Surveillance, arrests, and deportations in Chinatown continued unabated.
At least Bing didn’t have to face the immigration court on Staten Island by herself. Frank was with her at every step, able to navigate the court with his fluent English and knowledge of American ways. He testified that she was his wife and that they had two native-born American children. The immigration officials ruled that the U.S.-citizen children would be harmed if their mother were sent away. Bing’s deportation was suspended, and she was granted a green card to stay in the United States as a permanent resident.
But now the INS fixed its spotlight on Frank. He had entered the United States on a diplomatic visa and then stayed under the radar when he left the United Nations. By defending Bing, he had made himself vulnerable. The INS launched an investigation into his status and found that he had not worked at the UN in years. Federal agents went to their apartment, arrested and detained
him.
With help from John’s life insurance proceeds, Frank posted the required five-hundred-dollar bond and was released from immigration detention in Newark. However, the INS launched a “special inquiry” investigation because Frank had written numerous articles about China and was outspoken in his criticism of Chiang Kai-shek. After more than two years of hearings and legal limbo with no end in sight, Frank and Bing expected to be deported to Taiwan, a place neither had ever been. The journey would be all the more difficult because they had a third child—and another on the way.
Worn down by the stress of the immigration proceedings and exhausted by so many pregnancies in a short time, Bing became ill and was diagnosed with tuberculosis. The cost of his immigration case and expenses for the children had drained Frank’s finances, leaving him little money to pay for doctors. Most upsetting of all, health officials were threatening to take her children away. What more could happen? It seemed ages ago that she had left Shanghai convinced that her bad luck as a twice-abandoned girl was changing. Now she had to wonder—if good fortune ever came her way, would she have any strength left to hold on to it?
NANJING, 1951
In May 1951, the pink-tinged magnolia blossoms were in full bloom, and Benny was enjoying his second spring in Nanjing. He had been working at the National YMCA office for more than a year when a telegram from Annie, his elder sister, arrived. Benny braced himself.
The message was brief:
FATHER IS DEAD. GO TO THE PRISON, GET HIS THINGS.
Benny felt as though his heart had stopped momentarily. Then he said a silent prayer for his father. Benny had feared that this day would come. He left immediately for Shanghai, where he learned that his father had been executed at Tilanqiao Prison. That was all he needed or wanted to know. He had to acknowledge that it was a miracle his father had stayed alive for so long. At least I’ll never have to go into that shameful place again, he told himself.