spoke little or no English and attended substandard schools. It was from these schools that the gangs plucked their recruits.
“I would have my kids go to a high school in Chinatown and look for the turkey right off the boat,” David Chong recalled. Chong was a New York cop who infiltrated the Flying Dragons in the 1980s. He was so effective that he soon became a
dai lo
, “big brother,” or leader, in the gang, running his own crew of twelve. “You want him in ninth or tenth grade, he can’t speak English, he’s got a stupid haircut. And when you find this kid, you go beat the shit out of him. Tease him, beat him up, knock him around. We isolate this kid; he’s our target. What will happen, one day I’ll make sure I’m around when this kid is getting beaten up, and I’ll stop it with the snap of my finger. He’ll look at me—he’ll see that I have a fancy car, fancy girls, I’m wearing a beeper—and I’ll turn around and say, Hey kid, how come these people are beating on you?’ I’m gonna be this kid’s hero, this kid’s guru—I’m gonna be his
dai lo.”
O ne day in 1981, a slim, handsome Fujianese teenager with hard eyes, a square jaw, and a mop of black hair arrived in New York. His name was Guo Liang Qi, but he would become known by the nickname Ah Kay. Born to a humble family in 1965, in a village not far from Sister Ping’s, Ah Kay was uncommonly intelligent, but quit school in the fifth grade. He hung around the village a few more years, but he was ambitious, and an uncle living in the United States paid a snakehead $12,000 to smuggle him over. Ah Kay traveled overland to Hong Kong and then by air to Bangkok. He had a ticket for Ecuador, with a layoverin Los Angeles. But when he reached LAX he slipped out of the terminal, a quiet Chinese kid security wouldn’t give a second look. He had no papers and didn’t speak a word of English, but he managed to make his way to New Jersey, where he stayed with his uncle. He found an entry-level job at a steakhouse called Charlie Brown’s. But Ah Kay had a taste for nightlife, and for gambling in particular, to say nothing of a series of innate leadership skills which, at Charlie Brown’s, anyway, were going untapped. He left the steakhouse by the end of 1982 and moved to New York’s Chinatown. There he joined a fledgling gang, the Fuk Ching, which was short for Fukien Chingnian, or Fujianese Youth.
In those early days, before the Fujianese boom had begun in earnest, the Fuk Ching (which is pronounced “Fook Ching”) occupied a small stretch of Grand Street. The precise origins of the gang are murky, but by the time Ah Kay arrived in New York, it existed in loose form. It was founded by a man named Kin Fei Wong, who went by Foochow Paul. He was in his mid-twenties when he and a couple of associates established the gang, which made him an elder statesman next to teenage recruits like Ah Kay. Foochow Paul had a mullet and a mustache and a stylish way about him. He surrounded himself with loyal kids, paid them off, gave them apartments in which to crash, bailed them out when they got locked up. There were a few members who weren’t Fujianese, but most of them were like Ah Kay: recent arrivals from the province, connected by myriad bonds from the country they had left behind and by a fierce entrepreneurial drive to muscle in on whatever business opportunity they could. They took to dressing in black jeans and black bomber jackets. They grew their hair into dramatic pompadours streaked with dyed strands of orange or red. They congregated in the restaurants and gambling parlors of Fujianese Chinatown, lounging on the stoops, giving hard looks to passersby always seeming to venture out in clusters of three or four.
For all their violence, Chinatown gangs were first and foremost a business, and the Fuk Ching leadership tried to colonize the Fujianese territory north of Canal and east of the Bowery. They fanned outthrough the neighborhood and quickly
“I would have my kids go to a high school in Chinatown and look for the turkey right off the boat,” David Chong recalled. Chong was a New York cop who infiltrated the Flying Dragons in the 1980s. He was so effective that he soon became a
dai lo
, “big brother,” or leader, in the gang, running his own crew of twelve. “You want him in ninth or tenth grade, he can’t speak English, he’s got a stupid haircut. And when you find this kid, you go beat the shit out of him. Tease him, beat him up, knock him around. We isolate this kid; he’s our target. What will happen, one day I’ll make sure I’m around when this kid is getting beaten up, and I’ll stop it with the snap of my finger. He’ll look at me—he’ll see that I have a fancy car, fancy girls, I’m wearing a beeper—and I’ll turn around and say, Hey kid, how come these people are beating on you?’ I’m gonna be this kid’s hero, this kid’s guru—I’m gonna be his
dai lo.”
O ne day in 1981, a slim, handsome Fujianese teenager with hard eyes, a square jaw, and a mop of black hair arrived in New York. His name was Guo Liang Qi, but he would become known by the nickname Ah Kay. Born to a humble family in 1965, in a village not far from Sister Ping’s, Ah Kay was uncommonly intelligent, but quit school in the fifth grade. He hung around the village a few more years, but he was ambitious, and an uncle living in the United States paid a snakehead $12,000 to smuggle him over. Ah Kay traveled overland to Hong Kong and then by air to Bangkok. He had a ticket for Ecuador, with a layoverin Los Angeles. But when he reached LAX he slipped out of the terminal, a quiet Chinese kid security wouldn’t give a second look. He had no papers and didn’t speak a word of English, but he managed to make his way to New Jersey, where he stayed with his uncle. He found an entry-level job at a steakhouse called Charlie Brown’s. But Ah Kay had a taste for nightlife, and for gambling in particular, to say nothing of a series of innate leadership skills which, at Charlie Brown’s, anyway, were going untapped. He left the steakhouse by the end of 1982 and moved to New York’s Chinatown. There he joined a fledgling gang, the Fuk Ching, which was short for Fukien Chingnian, or Fujianese Youth.
In those early days, before the Fujianese boom had begun in earnest, the Fuk Ching (which is pronounced “Fook Ching”) occupied a small stretch of Grand Street. The precise origins of the gang are murky, but by the time Ah Kay arrived in New York, it existed in loose form. It was founded by a man named Kin Fei Wong, who went by Foochow Paul. He was in his mid-twenties when he and a couple of associates established the gang, which made him an elder statesman next to teenage recruits like Ah Kay. Foochow Paul had a mullet and a mustache and a stylish way about him. He surrounded himself with loyal kids, paid them off, gave them apartments in which to crash, bailed them out when they got locked up. There were a few members who weren’t Fujianese, but most of them were like Ah Kay: recent arrivals from the province, connected by myriad bonds from the country they had left behind and by a fierce entrepreneurial drive to muscle in on whatever business opportunity they could. They took to dressing in black jeans and black bomber jackets. They grew their hair into dramatic pompadours streaked with dyed strands of orange or red. They congregated in the restaurants and gambling parlors of Fujianese Chinatown, lounging on the stoops, giving hard looks to passersby always seeming to venture out in clusters of three or four.
For all their violence, Chinatown gangs were first and foremost a business, and the Fuk Ching leadership tried to colonize the Fujianese territory north of Canal and east of the Bowery. They fanned outthrough the neighborhood and quickly
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