The Great and Terrible Crocodiles of Denial



Why do we continue to eat when we are full? Why do we smoke cigarettes when we know they cause cancer? Why do we not exercise more when so many studies link exercise to a myriad of long term benefits?
 
Above is Chinatown’s Doyer Street. I took this picture a couple of weeks ago on a quiet Saturday morning. This humble corner––purported to be the only curved street in all of NYC––is sometimes known as “the Bloody Angle.” Back in 1909, it was the deadliest spot in the city, even more notorious than the Five Points of Scorceses’s The Gangs of New York.

By this time, in the face of persecution and a shameful degree of government neglect, the Cantonese population in Manhattan had organized itself around a series of merchant associations, or tongs. Many tongs were truly concerned with providing much-needed services to the community. However, the On Leong and Hip Sing, two of the most powerful groups, would’ve put the Godfather to shame.

The Bloody Angle was where the the On Leong and Hip Sing attempted to resolve their differences, mostly using hatchets. This, no fooling, is where the expression “hatchet man” comes from. The period also saw a sudden resurgence in chainmaille, the linked metal armor so in vogue during the reign of King Arthur. For a well-off hatchet man, it was a pretty good investment.

In the early 20th century, a famous comedian named Ah Hoon used to perform just around the corner from the Bloody Angle, in the Chinese Theatre. (You can see a glimpse of The Chinese Theatre in the photo. It is the edge of the green building, just past the curve.) Ah Hoon was like the Cantonese Bill Maher. A member of the On Leong tong, much of his material skewered the Hip Sing.  Although no written record of any of his routines survive, I imagine the jokes went something like:


Q: How many Hip Sing does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: None, because they’re too busy getting chopped up with axes. Zing!

You get the idea. And so did the Hip Sing, because they posted on the community wall (kind of an early low-tech internet) that the next time Ah Hoon performed at the Chinese Theatre, he would be assassinated.

You would expect with this proclamation that Ah Hoon would skidaddle out of town, but he couldn’t afford to lose face in the middle of a gang war, and anyway, as any performer will tell you, the show must go on. On that fateful night in December, he showed up to a standing room only crowd (nothing like rumors of murder to boost ticket sales) and performed his act. He did, however, cut out the Hip Sing jokes, and make sure to bring a contingency of bodyguards on stage with him, including several NYC cops.

Not being complete idiots, the Hip Sing chose not to take him out during his performance. After the show, the On Leong celebrated with a parade. Ah Hoon’s bodyguards escorted him back home to his Chatham Square boarding house and stood guard in front of his door. The apartment seemed particularly secure, given that it only had one tiny window in the back that looked out onto the brick wall of a building that stood no more than six feet away.

The next morning, of course, he was dead.

In the middle of the night, the Hip Sing had lowered an assassin down in a boatswain’s chair between the buildings to that single window, and that man shot Ah Hoon through the head.

It’s possible that Ah Hoon sincerely believed, given all the precautions he had taken, he was perfectly safe. Much like how millions of us climb into our cars each day and believe we won’t die in a fiery crash. Much like how smokers believe it’s the other guy that will get cancer.

Human beings are hardwired to live in an almost constant state of denial. Neuroscientists tell us it’s partially responsible for keeping us from falling into the pit of despair on a regular basis.

Right now I’m jonesing to stick my spoon into a cold creamy pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey; it turns out there’s a little Ah Hoon in all of us. How bad can it really be? Besides, my great grandmother on my mom’s side lived into her nineties….

Check out Robb’s new book and more 

Comments

  1. UnknownAugust 10, 2012 at 9:05 AM

    Well Robb, I could not deny the Chunky Monkey any longer...I did for more than a year...I have officially purchased and spooned. :)

    ReplyDelete

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