Twice Burned

They came again the next weekend, but Joe locked the door before they could enter. The young men shouted at him through the glass, but eventually moved on.

The next morning, a man came to visit. He politely introduced himself as Peter Chong, and apologized for the rude behavior of the boys the night before. "I tell him I never want to see those boys again," Joe says. "They smoke, they drink, they not pay."

Chong reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a thick wad of bills, and placed it on the table, Joe recalls. It was a stack of bills, 1 or 2 inches thick. Five thousand dollars. Chong asked Joe if it would be enough to cover the tab from then on.

"I tell him, 'Yes -- but no drink and no smoke,'" Joe says, laughing. He peers out the window, grinning at the memory. "Five thousand dollars," he says with a shrug.

Before Chong's criminal connections came out in the newspapers, he made a name for himself in Chinatown as a generous if somewhat shady businessman. He quickly became a familiar face, always unassuming, always keeping his bodyguards at a good distance. He could be seen in the city's parks playing cards, or simply strolling along the streets, passing out his business cards to merchants and restaurant owners, according to police. He was especially popular among the working class, the waiters and street vendors who knew him from the gambling dens. Chong always tipped generously, and would sometimes give money to the waiters to help them pay off their gambling debts.

"There was the perception that he had a good heart, almost like Robin Hood, robbing the rich to feed the poor," says a former director of the Chinatown Youth Center. "We called him the Social Worker Gangster."

Chong helped the nonprofit, which is partially supported by city funding, fulfill its mission, the former director says, by quelling street violence and even keeping kids out of gangs. The Wo Hop To's inclusiveness brought the city's myriad street gangs under one roof, calming, at least temporarily, their bitter rivalries. And when staff at the Chinatown Youth Center identified individuals who were doing well in school, or simply wanted out, Chong would release the kids from their gang obligations at the nonprofit's request. "In a sense he was an ally," the former director says.

Chong also had an indirect relationship with city government in former Police Commissioner Pius Lee, who now sits on the Port Commission. Tony Poon, a top official in the Wo Hop To, according to investigators, was Pius Lee's brother-in-law. While Lee was serving on the Police Commission, Poon was shot four times in the melee outside the Purple Onion. He was also caught in a police raid, allegedly managing one of Chong's gambling dens.

When Poon was later called to testify before Congress, he was asked if Lee had ever told him to keep his nose clean. "When he came to visit me in the hospital [following the shooting], he mentioned once," Poon told the panel. "He suggested I be careful, and not work in Chinatown."

Lee says he has heard of Chong from the Chinese newspapers, but says he has no knowledge of his brother-in-law's activities and has no recollection of visiting him in the hospital.

Chong had a business in North Beach called New Paradise Investment Co. and a bar in Oakland called the Marigo, both named after massage parlors run by the Wo Hop To in the nightclub district of Hong Kong. He sponsored a number of concerts around town, one featuring Amy Yip, the so-called "Madonna of Hong Kong," as well as a series of Cantonese opera performances at the Pagoda Palace. He also did charity work, such as a fund-raiser he put together called the People's Republic of China Flood Relief Campaign, which landed him on the cover of a Chinese newspaper lauding him as a community hero.

"It was all a part of projecting an air of legitimacy," says Sgt. Dan Foley. "We'd be talking to Chong and he'd be telling us what a great job we're doing, then he'd hand us his business card. 'Call me if you need anything,' he'd say."

Chong's primary business, however, was the Wo Hop To. He ran it like a corporation, building a solid management structure, stressing efficiency, and constantly pushing his subordi-nates to put aside their differences and work as a team.

"There was one focus: to make money," says Gilbert Jue, another former employee of the Chinatown Youth Center. "Before the Wo Hop To, one group was doing the gambling stuff, another was handling drugs and prostitution. Then Chong came along and said, 'Hey, let's do it all. It's not about fighting for honor or the name or reputation, it's about making sure that no one else comes in and tries to take your money.'"

Chong made himself the chief executive officer of the Wo Hop To's western branch. He became the figurehead whose name lent the organization prestige. When the Wo Hop To's top man in Hong Kong came to visit America he stayed with Chong, according to federal law enforcement officials. Chong also played host to Wayne Kwong, the reported head of the On Leong gang in Boston, when he came to San Francisco to forge an alliance with the Wo Hop To.