On a late autumn night during my senior year in college, I was hunkered down in my dorm room, hard at work researching for my history thesis…by watching a movie. For my project, I was studying 1970s-1980s Asian American Seattle, and attempting to understand the emergence of one of the most contentious issues in Asian American discourse: the model minority stereotype. To analyze such a complex social problem, I divvied up my project by looking at individual case studies, each framing some aspect of the social atmosphere in the community. As part of the research of these cases, I had to engage with a diverse set of sources, including the film I watched that night for one gory case study.
Having a movie night for research sounded fun compared to the previous hours I spent combing through digital newspapers and books. However, this film wasn’t a documentary or an award winning production that changed cinema. Instead, it was a painfully hard-to-watch, unknown, low-budget 1980s Chinatown crime drama. On the surface, the film offers little to no value as a historical source and appears to be more of something you’d only watch if you’re a masochist. Still, the story and impact of this film reveal a real-life Chinatown tragedy that was pivotal to the changing politics and identity of one of the country’s oldest and most unique Asian American communities.
Figure 1. Headline from the Seattle Times the day after the murders.[1]
The Wah Mee Murders
The movie I watched that night was Michael Chu’s 1987 The Border of Tong (also titled Massacre or Chinatown Connection in some other versions of the film). The film is loosely based on the real-life Wah Mee murders, more colloquially known as the Wah Mee Massacre. In February of 1983, three young Chinese Americans, Keung Kin “Benjamin” Ng, Kwan Fai “Willie” Mak, and Wai Chiu “Tony” Ng (no relation to Benjamin), attempted a heist on the Wah Mee club, a popular gambling establishment among the older Chinese community in Seattle’s the International District (ID), a historic pan-Asian neighborhood.[2] The masterminds behind the robbery were Willie and Benjamin, with Tony as an extra hand. They planned to enter the club, bind the occupants at gunpoint, take any money and valuables, and then execute everyone. Their plan was calculated and ruthless, sounding more akin to a movie plot than an actual crime. Their idea unfolded as they had scripted, and by the end of their robbery, 13 people were left dead, all shot by Willie and Benjamin, while Tony stood by watching as an accomplice to the carnage.[3]
However, in another movie-like twist, an improbable soul survivor would bring the three to justice. An elderly card dealer Wai Yok Chin had been shot and left for dead like the other victims that night. However, miraculously he survived the gunshot after it missed his head and struck him in the jaw, rendering him unconscious. Chin was able to come to some time later and made a full recovery from his brush with death. He would later provide key eyewitness testimony since he knew Willie and Benjamin due to their notorious reputation in the district.[4] Tony had a cleaner record, and it took time for authorities to identify him. By the time authorities pinned him as their top suspect, Tony had fled to Canada and it took a year-long manhunt and a stint on the FBI’s top ten most wanted list to finally find him.[5] Tony along with Benjamin and Willie were put on trial and convicted for various crimes, including armed robbery, assault, and murder. Benjamin and Willie got life sentences, while Tony received 30 years and was eventually paroled in 2013, before then immediately being deported to Hong Kong despite having lived in the US for over four decades.[6]
This crime sent shockwaves through the community, and it would take the ID years to fully recover. Like Yok Chin, the 13 victims had all been older Chinese Americans who had been pillars within the community.[7] Outside of losing so many well-known and respected friends, family, and loved ones, the media blitz and criminal trials that followed prolonged the suffering and put the community on the defensive against misinformation and prodding journalists. Outsiders were fascinated by the murders and the ruthless almost unbelievable events that transpired. This was egged on by Willie during his infamous trial, where he spun a lie that had entangled the entire community within it and fed into the public fascination with Chinatown criminality. The jury didn’t buy his fabrication, but many across the country did, including Michael Chu who made his film based almost entirely on Willie’s story. Chu’s choice to make a dramatized film based on a lie about such an unfathomable horror for an entire neighborhood brings to light a fascinating case of Asian Americans trying to profit off of the criminalization of other Asians, which would unite the ID in unexpected ways.
Figure 2. Cover for the DVD release of Michael Chu’s film.[8]
The Border of Tong
Michael Chu was a Chinese American filmmaker from Los Angeles, and he was inspired to make a film based on the Wah Mee murders following Willie’s trial and the FBI’s hunt for Tony. He was particularly drawn to the involvement of tongs in the crime. Tongs are Chinese American organizations, which peaked in the late 19th and early 20th centuries for providing lifelines for some Chinese immigrants struggling to adjust to living in the US.[9] However, tongs were also often heavily tied to organized crime, corrupting those who joined their ranks. Willie and Benjamin were two of many examples of young immigrants struggling to adapt who were swallowed up by these groups.[10] Willie, who was a member of the Hop Sing Tong with Benjamin, cited in his defense that he was sent to target some members of the rival Bing Kung Tong at Wah Mee.[11] He further embellished the power of tongs in the community by accusing some of his victims’ families and district leaders of having ties to them. However, tongs were not the scary boogeyman in Seattle that Willie claimed. All the people Willie implicated had no connection to tongs, and Willie and Benjamin had planned out the crime all by themselves.[12] They had actually boasted about their supposed foolproof plan to their friends in the weeks leading up to the robbery.[13]
Despite the proven falsehoods in Willie’s story, Chu drank the kool-aid, since according to him, the public felt “there is a certain mystery about what happened” and that the “people feel some of what happened” at Wah Mee “was affected by the tong.”[14] Chu began production for his film before Tony had even been sentenced, and centered the plot around the hunt for Tony, using Willie’s account to fill in the details.[15] He depicted Chinatowns as dangerous, with a secret order of tongs dictating the community, feeding the public curiosity about the mysterious Chinatown. Some examples include having the main antagonist be a tong leader and owner of the fictional version of Wah Mee. This leader also happens to be a city councilman, modeled suspiciously off of real life ID councilwoman Ruby Chow, who had been falsely accused by Willie of having tong ties. Chu expanded his stereotyping to Calgary Chinatown, where the fictional version of Tony spends most of the film hiding out. There he introduces some of the other antagonists, a group of Vietnamese pimps who run a brothel of trafficked Vietnamese women. The women are saved when the film’s main protagonist, a White Seattle police officer, shuts down the operation.
Chu’s stereotyping of Asian American and Asian Canadian communities is puzzling considering his background along with his almost entirely Asian American production team and cast.[16] Why would Chu slander fellow Asian Americans? Adding more to the confusion, was the social context of Asian American identity at this time. This was during the height of the Asian American Movement, which had been a decades long civil rights movement of progressive Asian American activists consolidating with other minority groups and rejecting the model minority stereotype. These activists had been in a local battle with conservative Asian American groups in Seattle like the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) and the Chong Wa Benevolent Association (Chong Wa), who were catalysts for assimilationist identities within the ID. This conflict was one of the main focuses of my thesis, so with that knowledge, trying to contextualize Chu’s film in this environment was difficult. He appears to be resisting the model minority stereotype like Asian American Movement activists, but he was doing so by replacing one stereotype with another.
One of the reasons behind Chu’s choice to glamorize these crimes and the supposed underground society of Chinatowns was the financial possibilities. The nation was captivated by these murders, and it was widely covered in some of the largest news publications in Seattle and across the country.[17] He realized there was a business opportunity to make off of these murders, and pounced on it, which explains why he decided to start making the film a mere two years after the tragedy occurred, a stark contrast to other dramatizations of criminal activity.[18] However, the film ultimately was a financial failure for Chu, due to the objectively poor quality of the product and the criticisms the ID community levied against it. Another explanation for the film’s messaging is Chu genuinely believed tongs ran the ID and other Chinatowns. This is highlighted by him inviting ID community leaders and activists, such as Ron Chew, who was an advocate in the district and the chief editor of the district’s newspaper the International Examiner, to watch his film’s premiere in California.[19] He could have thought he was servicing the ID, bringing attention to a secret struggle within Asian American neighborhoods.
Further analyzing Chu’s intentions, it also is not entirely clear if he was attempting to refute the model minority stereotype by pushing other stereotypes. The idea of “model minorities” is based on assimilationist rhetoric. While the concept of Chinatowns and Asian neighborhoods runs counter to assimilation, providing ethnic enclaves for these communities to celebrate and practice their native cultures. By demonizing these neighborhoods, Chu highlights that these unassimilated Asian communities are hubs of crime and chaos because of their foreign qualities. So in an indirect method, Chu supported model minority behaviors that he initially appears to be counteracting. However, this is further complicated considering many people who were part of pro-assimilation organizations like the JACL and Chong Wa found the film offensive and sought to protect the ID’s image. Therefore, it’s not entirely clear why Chu made the film, outside of the financial prospects. Interviews with him during the film’s production suggest he could have genuinely supported assimilation and wanted to bring to light these “secret” societies in North American Chinatowns, but they also could be attempts by him to play on the public fascination with the murders. Whatever his intentions were, the ID did not view the film the same as he did.
Figure 3. International Examiner headline mourning the murder victims.[20]
The Fallout
Chu’s film was met with a blistering response by the ID community, who attempted to refute all of Willie Mak’s lies that he had disseminated through the big screen. Ron Chew, who had been invited by the other Chu to watch his film, wrote an International Examiner article criticizing Chu’s film while it was still in production.[21] He also joined with other community leaders to seek legal action against Chu and stop the filming he was conducting in Seattle.[22] Others, such as Maxine Chan, a specialist for the Seattle Police Department who served as a liaison between the Asian community and police, criticized Chu for playing “into what people think Chinatown is.” She further found it unsettling that Chu was an Asian American spreading harmful stereotypes about other Asians.[23] Ruby Chow, the city councilwoman who had been possibly portrayed in the film as the main villain also put out a response, voicing her displeasure with how her community was portrayed.[24] Interestingly, Chow, Chew, and Chan all represented different parts of the ideological spectrum of the Asian community. Chow worked in Chong Wa leadership, representing the conservative faction, while Chew and Chan worked with activists in the community who not even a decade earlier had been battling it out with the conservatives over issues such as the Kingdome.[25] If Chu’s intentions were pure, then he had helped unite the community like he wanted, however, instead of uniting against the mysterious tongs, they banded together against him.
The community uniting to reject Chu was just one example of how the Wah Mee murders had muddied the political waters of the community, bringing together the neighborhood and ignoring the political intracommunity divisions at the time. Willie Mak’s trial resulted in intense blowback from the entire community, and the media blitz that peddled stereotypical narratives to the public about the murders also led to resistance by the ID.[26] One of the results of this consolidation of the community was the changing social politics going forward. As examined further in my thesis, this event was a turning point for the community that led to a strengthening of assimilationist behaviors. Progressives like Ron Chew had rejected the label “model minority,” however, with the murders turning attention to the community’s public image, some of the more liberal parts of the community began to align with conservatives like Ruby Chow. They leaned into the assimilated image to divert attention away from these negative stereotypes of their community, inflating positive qualities that emphasized the ID’s orderliness, achievements, and safety. The response by the community mirrored how some Asian Americans reacted during the Stop Asian Hate movement, where some responded to increasing violence against Asians with conservative anti-Black sentiment.[27] Thus, Chu along with Mak, Tony Ng, and Benjamin Ng, left a lasting impression on the community that transcended the loss of human lives and lack of respect for those lives. They contributed to the changing political and social course of the community to aim toward an assimilationist identity that others during that time had been trying to redirect away from.
Reflections
When I finished the movie that fateful night, instead of realizing that Chu had influenced Asian American identities of one of the nation’s oldest Asian communities, I instead felt relief that the movie was finally over. The poor acting, script, and cinematography made the movie straight-up bad, instead of “so bad, it’s good.” It explains why the movie was unable to gain traction like other Hollywood B movies that can build cult followings from their charming laughably bad appeal. It instead faded to obscurity, only to be unearthed again when some college student with a lot of interest in Asian American communities and too much time on his hands decided to watch it. However, despite how unconventional The Border of Tong was as a movie and a historical source, the context and responses it received from the ID highlight the important part it played in a larger identity shift occurring in Asian American communities during that era. So next time you decide to research for that next history paper or project, read or watch that unorthodox source because, behind its ridiculousness, there may be connections to larger historical trends that are not apparent at first glance.
[1] “13 Dead in Chinatown Massacre,” Seattle Times, February 20, 1983, 1
[2] Todd Matthews, “Wah Mee Massacre leaves 13 dead in Seattle’s Chinatown International District on February 19, 1983,” History Link, February 18, 2021
[3] Ron Chew, “Wah Mee jury hears opening remarks,” International Examiner, August 1983, 1
[4] “What happened down here on February 19,” International Examiner, March 1983, 5
[5] Ron Chew, “Fugitive Wah Mee suspect placed on FBI ‘Ten Most Wanted’ list,” International Examiner, June 1984, 3
[6] US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, “Paroled ‘Wah Mee Massacre’ conspirator deported to Hong Kong,” ICE.gov, May 14, 2014;
Mike Carter, “Parolee in 1983 Wah Mee massacre deported to Hong Kong,” Seattle Times, May 19, 2014
[7] “We lost thirteen,” International Examiner, March 1983, 3
[8] Michael Chu, Massacre, CPG International Film Production Company Inc, 1987
[9] Scott D. Seligman, Tong Wars: The Untold Story of Vice, Money, and Murder in New York’s Chinatown (New York, Viking, 2016)
[10] Ron Chew, “What Willie Mak did to Chinatown,” International Examiner, October 1983, 2-3
[11] Ron Chew, My Unforgotten Seattle (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2020), 326;
Ron Chew, “Wah Mee murder suspect will say robbery was not motive,” International Examiner, September 1983, 1
[12] Chew, “What Willie Mak did to Chinatown,” 2-3
[13] Chew, “Wah Mee jury hears opening remarks,” 1
[14] Ron Chew, “Film company will make movie based on Wah Mee murders,” International Examiner, April 1985, 1
[15] Ibid, 1;
Ron Chew, “Jury convicts Tony Ng of first-degree robbery,” International Examiner, April 1985, 1
[16] Chu, Massacre
[17] Wallace Turner, “20-year-old is Convicted in Deaths of 13 in Seattle,” New York Times, August 25, 1983, 12;
Wallace Turner, “13 Slain in Seattle’s Chinatown,” New York Times, February 20, 1983, 26;
“Around the Nation: Trial Opens Today In Seattle’s Killings,” New York Times, September 12, 1983, 14;
“13 Dead in Chinatown Massacre,” Seattle Times, February 20, 1983, 1;
Jack Hopkins, “Those gambling clubs run day and night,” Seattle Post-Intelligencer, February 20, 1983, 1
[18] A recent example of dramatizations of criminals or well documented crimes includes the Netflix TV show Monster that explores the lives of serial killer Jeffery Dahmer and the Menendez Brothers whose infamous murder of their parents has been subject to many debates. This show came more than 30 years after Dahmer’s and the Menedezs’ killings, but they were met with plenty of criticism for dramatizing real life tragedies and glamorizing criminals.
Hugh Montgomery, “Monster: Jeffrey Dahmer: Did TV go too far in 2022?” BBC, December 30, 2022;
Mary Whitfill Roeloffs, “Prosecutors Could Back Resentencing Menendez Brothers Today—As Controversial ‘Monsters’ Stays High On Netflix Charts,” Forbes, October 24, 2024
[19] Chew, My Unforgotten Seattle, 329
[20] “We lost thirteen,” 3
[21] Ron Chew, “What Willie Mak did to Chinatown,” International Examiner, October 1983, 2-3;
Chew, “Film company will make movie based on Wah Mee murders,” 1
[22] Ibid;
Chew, My Unforgotten Seattle, 329
[23] Chew, “Film company will make movie based on Wah Mee murders,” 1
[24] Ibid.
[25] The Kingdome was a domed stadium built next to the ID in the 1970s. It had been met with intense protests by progressive factions in the ID, while conservatives who were longtime leaders of the neighborhood remained quiet on the issue, leading to infighting in the community. This issue was the focus of my first chapter of my thesis.
[26] Chew, “What Willie Mak did to Chinatown,” 2-3;
“The temptation to lapse into stereotype and insensitivity,” International Examiner, March 1983, 4;
Maleeha Syed, “How WA’s worst mass shooting isolated Seattle’s Chinese Americans,” Crosscut Cascade PBS, February 15, 2023.
[27] An example to illustrate this was the movement by Asian Americans in San Francisco to recall the city’s progressive district attorney, Chesa Boudin, due to his restorative justice attitude and refusal to pursue hate crime charges against Antoine Watson for his murder of Vicha Ratanapakdee.
Claire Wang, “How San Francisco’s D.A. recall election shows a rift in the Asian American community,” NBC News, June 10, 2022