Lynch men also used the porch roof of John Goller's wagon shop at Los Angeles and Commercial, a block from the south entrance to the Alley.
Goller was a model citizen, a former city councilman, respectful husband and dutiful father. He objected bitterly as the Chinese were hoisted outside his windows. There are small children inside, he protested.
Negro Alley, where the massacre began
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"You dry up, you son of a bitch," growled a teamster as he leveled a rifle at Goller.
As the Chinese were hauled up, a man on the porch roof danced a jig and gave voice to the resentment many Americans felt over the Chinese willingness to work for low wages. "Come on, boys, patronize home trade," the man sang out.
The bloodlust was not only in the men. A woman who ran a boardinghouse across the street from Goller's shop volunteered clothesline to be cut up for nooses.
"Hang them," she screamed.
A boy came running from a dry goods shop. "Here's a rope," he called helpfully.
Of all the Chinese in Los Angeles, Dr. Gene Tong was probably the most eminent and beloved among both his countrymen and Americans. He could have made much more money hanging his shingle in the American part of town. But Tong stayed in the Alley, dispensing both traditional and modern cures from a small shop in the decrepit Coronel Building.
As Tong was dragged along the street, he tried to strike a bargain with his captors. He could pay a ransom, he said. He had $3,000 in gold in his shop. He had a diamond wedding ring. They could have it all.
Instead of negotiating, one of his captors shot him in the mouth to silence him. Then they hanged him, first cutting off his finger to steal the ring.
The next morning, the citizens of Los Angeles filed past the town's jail building to view the bodies of the dead laid out in double rows. There were 17. It was the largest mass lynching in American history.
When word of the massacre reached the outside world, the reaction was universal horror. In the East, citizens asked what sorts of ghouls had taken up residence on the West Coast. Turning its gaze from heathen lands, the Methodist Conference started raising funds for missionary work in Los Angeles.
Frontier apologists blamed the massacre on the "dregs" of California society, an assortment of thugs and highwaymen who slouched into town every fall from the mines in the north and the lawless Mexican territory to the south.
"American hoodlum and Mexican greaser, Irish tramp and French communist all joined to murder and dispatch the foe," wrote poet and historian A.J. Wilson.
The truth was different. While the looting and murder were carried out mostly by hoodlums, the deeds required the tacit approval and occasional intervention of the town's elite. What's more, the vast majority of those responsible could not have escaped punishment without a legal cover-up.
To begin with, the Massacre was not spontaneous. Events had been building toward violence among Chinese factions in Negro Alley for several days — and tensions between Chinese and Angelenos also were on the rise.
The cause of the shooting of Choy, whom Bilderrain had seen lying in the street, was the kidnapping by a Chinese company of a woman belonging to a rival Chinese company. These companies were a kind of club or gang that offered support and structure to the Chinese in America.
The kidnapped woman was a striking, moonfaced beauty named Yut Ho. Evidence only recently brought to light by historian Scott Zesch indicates she was a properly married woman who was kidnapped by a company to be sold into marriage.
That company was led by a master manipulator named Yo Hing, whose ability to curry favor with the white power structure was second to none in L.A. One businessman who knew him better than most called him a "guttersnipe Talleyrand."
The lovely Yut Ho belonged to a rival company, one led by a shopkeeper named Sam Yuen.
Determined to restore the young woman to her husband, Yuen imported from San Francisco several tong warriors, basically hit men.
Choy was one of the hit men, which was understandable, given that Yut Ho was his sister.
After disembarking from the steamship in San Pedro and making the kidney-jarring stagecoach ride to Los Angeles, Choy lost little time tracking down Yo Hing. Choy spotted Hing in Negro Alley on Oct. 23 and fired several shots at him.
Hing escaped injury and he swore out a warrant against Choy, who was promptly arrested.
As testament to Hing's influence with whites, Choy's bail was set at a staggering $2,000 — an amount far more than that for men accused of murder.
When Yuen showed up to post bail for his man, Hing's attorney was stunned. The attorney sputtered that Yuen could not possibly have that much money. The Chinese were known to be thrifty, but that amount of money was supposed to be beyond their reach.
A policeman accompanied Yuen to his shop in the Coronel Building, where he verified that Yuen had the bail money, and a lot more, hidden in a trunk.
