Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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The Son Of Wong Sing by Edith Tannenbaum 0 N a remote street in Chinatown, Wong Sings unpretentious antique shop was interesting only to those who studied Chinese antiques - and Wong Sing had discovered that few people do! Wong Sing had come to America to make his fortune. I-le was the seventh son in a noble Chinese family. Seventh sons do not receive much notice in China. A man's fortune must be of unbelievable size to warrant a noticeable heritage to a seventh son after all the more important sons have been properly looked after. Thus after his father's death Wong Sing found himself practically destitute. His only conceivable method of revenge was to go to America with his motherless infant, make his fortune, and finally return to China in royal state. I-le was determined to make good! On his arrival in America Wong Sing was befriended by another Chinese merchant who craftily induced him to invest the little money he had in a small antique shop. After a year of this. innocent Wong Sing realized that his friend was becoming a rich man through some of his enterprises which were unknown to Wong Sing, while Wong Sing was scarcely earning his bread. Wong Sings son, Wong Som, was now getting older and with his advancement in years VVong Sings desire to be able to support him also advanced. The father and son, entirely alone in a strange world, had developed the sort of companionship coveted by every father. To Wong Som his father was perfection personified and Wong Sing would rather have lost anything than the devotion of his son. Although, for a time. their every day life was serenely happy poverty and hunger gradually threatened them. This induced Wong Sings friend to introduce him to his own unlawful but money making occupation. Wong Sing had been reluctant to accept this life because of his son. Although it would afford Wong Som an opportunity for a better education, his father feared that as the boy grew older he would understand and lose faith in his father. Also, connection with illegal occupation was frightening. Wong Sing feared he could never bear the separation from his son which would be the inevitable result of discovery. fifteen

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P l he and HOssie would stage marathon races, although he knew full well he had no chance of winning. Perhaps it was the exercise that killed him, perhaps my late neglect of him, who knows? At any rate, he is gone, and Ossie is now living alone, but enjoying his more spacious quarters immensely, never once giving thought to his poor deceased friend. But after all, what could you expect of a turtle? A Store Window by lean Libman IT was a small inconspicuous store facing a wide brightly illu- minated thoroughfare. Gay laughing crowds filled with the joy and good spirits of the festive season hurried through the streets. Some looked at the many beautifully decorated store windows while others hastened on. But none cast a second glance at the tiny florist's shop on the corner. This little store did not attempt to compete with the large one featuring orchids, rare blooms and fancy prices, that the gay crowd patronized. There were no glaring lights or crashing colors in this window. Instead, it was a little section of nature's own fields transferred to the cold city street. There were no modernistic, flame-colored elephants bearing cactus plants on their backs, or silly dogs with purple striped leaves for tailsg but in the foreground of the window was a tiny field of daffoa dils demurely bowing their yellow heads. Behind them was a pot of iris, a splash of royal purple contrasting with the golden glow of the daffodils. The ground was carpeted with a velvety grass, while here and there a for-get-me-not shyly peeped out. To one side was a small rose-bush turning itself about a miniature trellis, while a tiny humming-bird buried its head in one of the fragrant pink blossoms. The arrangement of the whole window was so realistic that l was almost led into believing that the merry couples and the noisy traffic on the street were a dream, that only the garf den existed. l came again and again during the next few days, never tiring of watching the little window. for l Uhad found at last where the summer goes, fourteen

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V I Nevertheless, in a short time, Wong found himself in such a terrible financial condition that he was forced to accept the only way out. He was induced to cast discretion to the winds and take up a life of perpetual fear. Then the antique shop became merely a blind to the police. The inner part of VVong Sing's shop was the scene of uninterrupted activity. Day by day, business increased, The depression brought new patrons who wished to forget their grief and troubles through Vxfong Sings pipes of pleasant dreams. Money became Wong Sing's god! But in the midst of the joy of increasing fortune all the pleasure had gone out of his life, Wong Sing missed the pleasant mornings when he and his son rose early to put the shop in order and then, with renewed hope each ensuing day, awaited the first customer. He realized that his son too, resented this abrupt ter- mination of their former proximity and did not understand it, He allowed VVong Som to care for the outer shop but did not allow him to enter the inner portion. To each of his son's queries about the lolling music and queer noises from the rear of the shop Wong Sing maintained a pained silence, Within Wong Sing's grasp was unlimited wealth and he had not the strength of character to terminate his activities. Wong Som was the only probable agent by which Wong Sing could be forced to relent. Deep in the heart of this Chinaman who had once been noble but had succumbed in the unrelenting battle against penury, this deep love for his son was so strong that at times he had been near the point of allowing his love to overpower his greed, but life had gone on without offering sufficient excuse for a definite change in his mode of living. On his son's birthday in the early part of Iune, Wong Sing, slightly stirred by the occasion, was again attempting to settle the question of his future, He realized that the heavy brass door which separated his legal and illegal occupations was also the only barrier between the certainty and uncertainty of his son's love, If this barrier was ever passed by his son or any other feared individual! . . . . Wong Sing got no further in this debate with his conscience because from the outer portion of his shop Wong Sing heard a loud crash. The police! In an instant Wong Sing had quieted the music and lowered sixteen