Don’t Forget Chinatown

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” I’d often used that expression ironically. But I’d never once visited the place itself. In New York or San Francisco, it’s virtually impossible for any first-time visitor to avoid a tour of Chinatown. But somehow, in more than 10 years of living in Los Angeles, I never got around to Chinatown. In fact, I didn’t really know where it was--someplace “downtown,” a remote freeway-shadowed region that even the native Angelenos I knew didn’t visit often.

But I knew I missed the rich multicultural mix that other, more geographically compact cities offered. My maxim about L.A. is that there is a “there” there, you just have to look for it. So with Chinese New Year coming up, I was determined at long last to discover Chinatown for myself.

I didn’t know anyone named Jake, so I was forced to fall back on my friend Tom, who mentioned that he frequently goes to Chinatown to pick up Chinese herbal medicines. We set out to go exploring, a couple of absurdly conspicuous blonds in a milieu I know only from movies. It’s ridiculously easy to get there. We take the Pasadena Freeway to the Hill Street exit, helpfully marked by a large sign reading “Chinatown Next Exit.” Heading away from Dodger Stadium and down Hill Street, we come to a pedestrian plaza with a large Chinese-style gate at the entrance with “Chinatown” on it. “This must be Chinatown, Jake,” I say. (Tom said it was OK to call him Jake if I really had to.)

The whole place seems suffused with a ‘30s ambience. Later I discover the reason: The central plaza was built in 1938 as a replacement for Old Chinatown, which was almost completely demolished to make way for the construction of Union Station. The last remaining structures of the original Chinatown are now part of the Olvera Street complex.

Strolling through the plaza, we stop first at Sincere Imports, 483 Gin Ling Way. While I admire the realistic stuffed tigers, Tom wonders if there’s another store called Sarcastic Imports down the block. Besides the usual array of generic souvenirs, I come across a few sincere bargains, like Bee & Flower sandalwood soaps at three for a dollar and a set of velvet-upholstered dollhouse furniture that would charm any little girl for only $8.95.

I’m also tempted by the “Emperor Fan” for $10.95: “hand-painted on both sides of the fan, one side is viewed during winter and the other during summer.” Instead I settle for the most all-encompassing of holiday toys, a metal Easter egg that, when spun, opens to reveal a tiny Santa at its center, a bargain at $1.50.

Next stop across Gin Ling Way is the Chinatown Wishing Well, an elaborate outdoor diorama with signs indicating where to direct your wishes, in the form of tossed coins, for “Long Life,” “Love,” “Promotion,” “Wealth,” “Health,” etc. I manage to hit “Money”--after squandering quite a lot of it in trying. The live carp in the pool seem adept at dodging falling coins. Oddly enough, “Vacation” is the toughest target. Tom says that’s because everyone throwing money is already on vacation.

In a guidebook, I find the information that “in back of the well, visitors will note the stump of a willow tree, presented to the plaza by Paramount in honor of actress Anna May Wong, who planted it herself. Miss Wong’s name in Chinese means ‘frosted yellow willow.’ ” There’s no word as to why the willow is now merely a stump, but it may be for the same reason that the wishing well is guarded on both sides by barbed wire.

In Golden Dragon Imports, next door at 452 Gin Ling Way, we meet Ginger Wong, who’s been there since 1952, but now only part time, since her son, Dick Wong, has taken over. She tells us that the Chinese New Year will begin the Year of the Tiger. According to her chart, people born in Tiger years have “a magnetism that is often difficult to resist.” I find out that I’m a pig or, as I prefer to say, a wild boar, while Tom was born in the Year of the Rooster.

Plenty of Chinese New Year cards are available in the lucky color red and, although we can’t understand their sentiments, we get the gist. We learn that different foods served at this time have symbolic value: fish for abundance, chicken or duck for renewal, nuts and seeds for fertility and noodles for long life. Why fireworks? To help scare away evil spirits.

I’m sure I could chase the blues in a red rayon full-length robe with dragon embroidery for $33.99 or a red pure silk Chinese-style dress for only $65.99 but, alas, I’m too big to fit into most Chinatown garments. I have to resign myself to acquiring the same thing from Nicole Miller at four times the price.

If you’re as petite and willowy as Anna May Wong, however, there are real deals to be had. Plus adorable PJs for the kids. I reluctantly tear myself away from the classic men’s rayon bathrobes for $22.99, which even I might be able to squeeze into.

*

We’re getting hungry, but, sadly, the oldest restaurant in Chinatown, General Lee’s (originally known as Man Jen Low) is closed and shuttered for good. Bypassing the stand advertising “Pizza Chicken Burger” opposite the statue of Sun Yat-sen, we pass through the East Gate, erected in 1938 and dedicated by attorney You Chung Hong to his mother and all mothers everywhere. We know Mom would want us to eat a little something.

We turn right on North Broadway. I want to stop anywhere with barbecued ducks hanging in the window. But Tom has a goal in mind: Sam Woo, at 803-807 N. Broadway, open Sundays through Thursdays until midnight, Fridays and Saturdays until 1 a.m. It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday, but still we have to wait 10 minutes for a table, always a good sign.

There’s no shortage of reading material in the waiting area, where we’re greeted by an entire wall of stringent injunctions such as: “No Checks,” “Cash Only,” “We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone.” But the friendly service belies the initial stern impression. We pig out--after all, that’s my birth year--on nourishing noodle soup, feather-light dumplings and mixed barbecued duck and pork, all for $20 with tip. Live lobsters and crabs in the tank hold out promise for another visit.

But I can’t help scanning the menu for those frightening items that scare many people away from Chinese food: Beef Offals in Special Sauce, Pork Blood and Intestine With Green Leeks Soup, Deep Fried Large Intestines. My friend Suzanne, who’s worked in a Chinese restaurant, says it’s just a question of menu language. Most Chinese menus are translated by the printers, she says, no students of the effect of terminology on taste buds: “Give it a fancy French name and they’d order it.”

Later, when I rave about my Chinatown discoveries to friends whom I consider fairly sophisticated, they’re skeptical. They wonder if it’s safe there: “What about the Chinese street gangs?” I assure them that the only gang they’re likely to encounter is a gang of little old ladies scrambling to take advantage of a special on plastic sandals. Unless you’re scared by the sight of a barbecued pig snout or the live chickens in cages at Canton Poultry at 717 N. Broadway, there’s nothing to worry about. And where else in L.A. can you park in a secured lot all afternoon for $3?

Plus, our stop for dessert, Phoenix Bakery, validates parking at the bank next door. “Master bakers since 1938,” Phoenix Bakery, at 969 N. Broadway, offers another good reason to visit Chinatown: for its reasonably priced fancifully decorated Western-style birthday cakes, ranging from $30 for a two-layer quarter sheet to $95 for the full sheet. For a handful of future predictions--keep eating until you get one you like--fortune cookies are $2.50 a bag.

*

To reverse the effect of the macaroons I’ve been scarfing, we decide to stop into the Van Hoa Ginseng & Herbs Co. at 823 N. Broadway for some traditional Chinese medicines. I opt for the pills I know from my acupuncturist: Da Bu Wan for energy at $2.59 a bottle of 50, Xiao Yao Wan for relaxation at $1.99 for 200, 24 doses of Yin Chiao for flu and cold relief at $3.75, all about a third of the price I’d pay at my neighborhood homeopathic pharmacy.

But Robert Rand, a real estate agent and contractor, and his mom, Jane Rand, a clinical psychologist, are two non-Chinese customers we encounter who are going for the real thing: plates of mysterious substances solemnly measured out and wrapped up in pink paper packages by the Chinese pharmacist. I don’t want to inquire too closely, but I do spot dried shark’s fin, snakeskin and tiny sea horses in trays below the counter.

As the Rands explain it to us, you visit the doctor in the back of the store for a $10 fee, no appointment necessary. Based on his examination of your tongue, pulse and blood pressure, plus a description of your symptoms, he gives you a prescription for the pharmacist, who doles out your packages of medicine. Each package costs around $5 and needs to be boiled down into tea in a special ceramic kettle, which can take as long as two hours. You use one package a day for 10 or so days--and voila, you’re cured.

The tea is reputed to taste as nasty as you might expect. But the Rands swear by it. As for Tom and me, we agree that if we ever get hit by the dreaded Hong Kong chicken flu, we just might try it. Desperate times require desperate measures.

Meanwhile, I require a different restorative. We stop in at Hop Louie’s Jade Pagoda, formerly the Golden Pagoda, back on the plaza at 950 Mei Ling Way. Hop Louie’s--”The place to eat in Chinatown!”--is hard to miss because its pagoda tower, lighted with neon, is the tallest structure around.

The bar gives new definition to the term “dark bar.” It’s like a dark bar inside a cave inside a coal mine. The bar is tended by Ethel Wong, who tells us that her Chinese name is Sun Toy and that she was born in Old Chinatown, which would make her at least 60. She reminisces about the good old days of vanished restaurants like the Grandview Gardens and Jerry’s Joint, which was “very elite. They had valet parking.”

Leaving Sun Toy to flirt with Tom, upstairs I discover a large, almost empty peach-and-green dining room and an octagonal private room, with a view of Sincere Imports, where Jake Gittes would feel right at home.

It’s impossible to sample the food, because we’re already more than replete, but at $4.50 for a luncheon special, it would be hard to complain. Passing the wall of signed celebrity photos on the way downstairs, I discover that Hop Louie’s has something else to recommend it: It must be the only restaurant in L.A. to enjoy the patronage of Al Martino, Jackie Chan and LeAnn Rimes.

*

It’s time to go, but Chinatown has gotten under my skin. I come back the next day, Sunday, by myself, to soak up more atmosphere--and eat more food. That’s when I discover the Chinatown Heritage & Visitors Center at 411 and 415 Bernard St., open only on Sundays from noon to 4 p.m. At the moment it’s a small collection of exhibits in a pair of partially restored Victorian houses, but the Chinese Historical Society, an all-volunteer organization, has big plans for the future.

I learn about them and get a capsule history of Chinatown, today and yesterday, from Eugene Moy, an erudite urban planner. His knowledge is fascinating, and so are the sparse exhibits, including antique Chinese spoons, bowls and coins from Old Chinatown recently unearthed in the Metro Rail tunnels. The historical society is happy to arrange tours for schools, groups and even individuals. To take advantage of the society’s fount of knowledge, call (213) 621-3171 or check out its Web site at https://www.chssc.org

Moy introduces me to another volunteer, Cy Wong, who describes himself as “Chinese and black and Native American.” His great-grandfather was one of the first Chinese in Louisiana. He’s a sometime actor (“General Hospital,” “The Young and the Restless”) and musician, now teaching metal fabrication at a private trade school in Gardena.

Wong takes me under his wing and gives me his own personal tour of Chinatown. The highlight is a visit to the Kong Chow Benevolent Assn. at 931 N. Broadway, upstairs from the Standard Savings Bank. The caretaker ushers us past the meeting hall, which looks like your standard Lions Club, to the temple: a room lined with hundred-year-old carved wooden shrines, dark with smoke.

I’m thrilled. It’s just the kind of thing I hoped to find up there. The fierce-looking fellow with the droopy horsehair beard and mustache inside the largest shrine is Gen. Kuan, the god of war. According to a book on Chinese deities at the Heritage Center, he also looks after medicine, rain and bean curd sellers.

The thought of bean curd reminds me that I’m very, very hungry. When I first arrived at the Heritage Center at 1:30 p.m., I hadn’t eaten. It’s now 5 and I still haven’t eaten, although I’ve had my head stuffed full of stories about Chinatowns past and present. I excuse myself and, on a tip from Wong, make for the Golden Dragon Seafood Restaurant at 960 N. Broadway.

There I encounter Pedro Chan, entertainment director and part-owner of the Golden Dragon. Chan, who has a doctorate in engineering, is delighted I have found him and makes me feel the same way. It turns out he’s an amateur magician who stages magic shows with his friends in the back of the restaurant every Saturday and Sunday at 12:30 p.m. At $12.50 for adults and $6 for kids under 12, a dim sum lunch with magic sounds like a great kids’ birthday party.

Unfortunately I’ve arrived too late for the show, but Chan insists on performing for me right at the table. Donning a red- and white-striped hat similar to the one worn by Dr. Seuss’ Cat in the Hat, he performs the dangling dollar trick, then embarrasses me by lighting “special indoor fireworks” in a ceramic swan while he makes all the waiters sing “Happy Birthday.” Who cares that it’s not my birthday? Certainly not Chan.

At long last I finally get to eat--ostrich with mixed vegetables, a specialty of the house. It tastes like a cross between veal and chicken and, though I don’t exactly love the idea of eating ostrich, I have to admit it’s delicious. Sipping tea with Chan and his lovely wife, Peck--he’s from Macao, she’s from the Philippines--is a great way to top off my weekend in Chinatown.

Of course, I’m going back--this weekend as a matter of fact--with five friends to enjoy the Chinese New Year celebration on Saturday, starting with a special dim sum brunch at the Golden Dragon at 11 a.m., followed by VIP seating for the parade, topped off by yet another tour of Chinatown. And all this for only $45 a person, $25 for kids under 18, courtesy of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce. If you want to join us, call Chan at (213) 721-0774, and if there are any places available, he’ll try to squeeze you in.

But even if you don’t make it to Chinatown this weekend, go soon. Because it’s so much more than just Chinatown. It’s a whole world, and if we don’t take advantage of it, it just might fade away. And that would be very, very sad.

Anne Beatts writes the weekly humor column Beatts Me! for the Sunday Life & Style section.

BE THERE

Year of the Tiger events in Chinatown include the Golden Dragon parade Saturday, noon to 2 p.m. along North Broadway; a carnival, Friday through Sunday, 10 a.m. to 11 p.m. at 601 N. Broadway; a street fair, Friday through Sunday, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. at 940 N. Broadway and a New Year banquet on Feb. 27 at Ocean Seafood Restaurant, 747 N. Broadway. For information on all events call (213) 621-3171.

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North Broadway and Beyond

Los Angeles’ Chinatown features stores, restaurants and other points of interest. here are some:

1. Sincere Imports, 483 Gin Ling Way.

2. Chinatown Wishing Well, Gin Ling Way

3. Golden Dragon Imports, 452 Gin Ling Way

4. Sam Woo restaurant, 803-807 N. Broadway

5. Canton Poultry, 717 N. Broadway

6. Phoenix Bakery, 969 N. Broadway

7. Van Hoa Ginseng & Herbs Co., 823 N. Broadway

8. Hop Louie’s Jade Pagoda, 950 Mei Ling Way.

9. Chinatown Heritage & Visitors Cntr., 411 & 415 Bernard St.

10. Kong Chow Benevolent Assn., 931 N. Broadway