Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1921-01-09

got to Chatham Square I told the
| chauffeur to turn into Mott street
| and park in front of one of them
| big Chinese stores.
Let's see" says I. maybe I'd bet
| That's my old chop suey joint, and
there ought to be somebody there
that remembers me-"
| You know, there's nothing very
| terrifyin' about Mott street at 5 pm.
| It's just wide. busy street and fair
~ clean. Course. at night. with the
| josshouse and the tourist restau-
| rants all lighted up. and the natives
| loaf1n' around thicker on the side
| walks; it does look a little strange.
Bangor and Terre Haute and Grand
| Rapids gawpin'.
! When we turned into Pell street.
though, I noticed that Mrs. Jerry
trotted pretty close to my elbow and
side. For Pell is different. It's mar
! row and dirty and all Chinese. Also
that long, dark flight of stairs up to
Mon Lay Wongs amt specially in
within. r.
"oh" saueals Mrs. Jerry. Must
NO says I. You and Pinckney
can wait here while i"
| wen co. says Mrs. Jerry prompt.
But up in the restaurant I finds an
entlre new set CT CnlnkS In charge.
Not even one of the old walters was
I left, and the slit-eyed party behind
/, the cashiers desk acted like he'd
never heard of Charlie Hen. who used
to be one Of the proprietors. five
| years ago.
"No ChaIie Hen." says he. you
! like Chinese suppe-nice chow main,
chicken mushroom suey. moon cakes.
| Ii chez nuts?'
mo. thanks" says I. s'We're
flookin' for half-blood by the name
of-let's see. what was it he called
Young? Oh. Lee Yung Fat. that was
lit? Know him. do your
The Chirk stares at me stupid and
shakes his head. What you want
Lee Fat?" he asks.
Then you do know him. eh?"
mo" says he, grouchy. mo know
Lee Fat
There" whispers Mrs. Jerry.
"See, he doesn't. And please can't
we go?"
might as well. I expect" says l.
"Well have look over on Doyers
street. There's poolroom. there
where all the young sports hang out"
"But-but that was where the
shooting took place!" Clasps Pinck-
Eyes. I know" says I. at amt
a continuous performance. though.
can park you in the doorway Of the
mission house, nearby. Here we are.
This is what they used to call Bloody
Angle, you know"
me by the arm. Tim sure it looks
it. And I know Suey Sam would
never turn to such place as this"
Maybe not" says l. I'll have a
peek upstairs, anyway. Here! You'll
be safe in this doorway until I come
down."
It's a good deal like any third
class poolroom that you might find
on Sth avenue, or down on West
, street. or up in the Bronx, except
| the rice cake bakery underneath. and
that on the walls you can see posted
! the bulletins Of the Hip Sing tong.
| which is secret society SO secret
that / expect no white man ever knew
just what it was for or why
young Chinatown hicks don't look SO
tough; nothing like the ones that
| used to SLOUGH around there when
Chuck Corners and Bat McGlory was
to look twice at Bat. in that dirty
white sweater belted inside his pants.
and with them broad shoulders and
the old scar down his jaw. to know
that he was a hard-boiled one. But
! these wasp-wasted, putty-faced shrimps
didn't look equal to landin' knockout
on a sick ribbon clerk. didn't know one
Of 'em by sight.
Just as l was turnin' to go, though
/ saw somebody slouched down in q
corner chair and thought he looked
! familiar. AS luck would have it he's
Spider Quinn. one Of Swiftly Joe's old
side kicks. Course. he remembered me.
whats the word. Shorty" says
he. unlimberin' his long legs.
Looking for Lee Yung Fat" says
I. "or Sam Young, as he calls him.
I self since he was turned loose from
the A. E. F. Seen him around here
!, lately?"
Spider squints up at me cautious
and then at the nearest bunch of pool
shooters. you got on Lee Fat?"
he asks quiet.