Suburban Samurai -The Asian Invasion of the San Gabriel Valley

By Carl Schoner

In the author's words, "A friendly invasion is an invasion nonetheless." This is a humorous personal perspective of how the new wave of Asian immigrants pouring into the San Gabriel Valley has transformed life there. As seen through the eyes of the Artist/Author, this book paints a picturesque exposé of the rapidly changing demographics of the Valley that is as sensitive as it is funny. The contents provide a wild ride of essays and cartoons that touch upon such topics of interest as Samurai Image and Wealth, Politics, Samurai Restaurants and Dining Experiences, Music and Entertainment, Feng Shui, the Dating Disparity Issue, the Asian Intellectual Superiority Myth, Karaoke Clubs, Samurai Supermarket Adventures, and much more! This perspective is essential reading for anyone interested in contemporary American or Asian American studies!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781304836564

Book preview

Suburban Samurai -The Asian Invasion of the San Gabriel Valley

Suburban Samurai

The Asian Invasion

of Southern California’s

San Gabriel Valley

by

Carl Allen Schoner

Copyright, 2006

All Rights Reserved

Published by Carl Allen Schoner

CAS Associates

P.O. Box 4462

Diamond Bar, CA 91765

[e-mail]

[e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-304-83656-4

www.lulu.com/carl_schoner

All original artwork by Carl Allen Schoner

© Copyright 2006, by Carl Allen Schoner

All copyrights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced or copied in any way without the express written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

117371-81

This book is dedicated to my wife Elaine

and to Suburban Samurai everywhere.

A friendly invasion is an invasion nonetheless.

- Carl Allen Schoner

INTRODUCTION

In 1964 when I was a sixth grade student at Westmont Elementary School in Pomona, California my small home class consisted of 15 whites, 3 Hispanics, and 1 Pacific Islander girl. That distribution was not typical of the entire school, for there were only 2 Pacific Islander girls (sisters) enrolled at the entire school back then, and there weren't many other Hispanics that I can recall other than the ones who were part of my home class. I remember them because I sometimes traded my peanut butter sandwich for some of the corn bread they brought to lunch. But other than these few interactions, my world during elementary school was a whitewashed homogenous suburban twilight zone where most everyone looked and acted the same. That was all about to change in the summer of 1965.

In 1965, shortly after the Watts riots redefined Los Angeles, a large number of blacks moved to Pomona in the areas surrounding Ganesha High School in the northwestern part of the city, Marshall Junior High School just down the street, Pomona High School in the Southeast section, and also Freemont Jr. High School several blocks away. I first attended seventh grade at Freemont in 1966, then transferred to Marshall Junior High the next year, and finally to Ganesha High the year after that. During all of those years my world was roughly a three way split between whites, blacks, and Hispanics. There was scarcely an Asian in sight except for TV’s Charlie Chan, but he wasn’t really Asian so he really didn’t count.

In 1975 I was a twenty-two year old cowboy, employed but still in college and renting a condominium my parents had purchased as an investment in Diamond Bar, California. At that time Diamond Bar wasn’t big enough to be called a town, not commercial enough to be considered a genuine city, and in retrospect, not even attractive enough to be considered a nice place to call home if you harbored any hint of metropolitan affinities. Diamond Bar back then could best be described as a bedroom community of perhaps 20 thousand homogenous inhabitants. The town had one major intersection surrounded by several thousand homes nestled at the interchange of the Orange and Pomona Freeways. Pomona, with its population of about 150 thousand, was just over the hill from Diamond Bar, but it might just as well have been on another planet. This was because the hill provided a kind of insulation - a natural barrier - that kept most of the inhabitants of Pomona in Pomona, and most of the inhabitants of Diamond Bar in Diamond Bar except when students were bused between Diamond Bar and Pomona for school. To the east of this tiny community lay a range of hills called the Phillip’s Ranch, although I knew these hills by the name of the smaller stables found at the base of the hills at the end of Wright Street, called the "Brea Canyon Boarding Stables. The open expanses of undeveloped land in these hills was about as close to Green Acres as any cowboy or farmer at heart could ever desire, and yet little did I know that the permanence of these hills was an illusion, for they were about to be razed by big yellow CAT tractors that would rip the soil and trees from the ground to make way for a huge new wave of people moving into the Valley from abroad. My peaceful little Green Acres" was rapidly becoming a modern Suburbia.

At the time of this writing, I still live in Diamond Bar, although it is a vastly different place. Today, Diamond Bar is not only incorporated as a city, but it is also a focal point in the Valley due to its major freeway interchange. Everybody who is anybody must travel through Diamond Bar on their way both to and from significant places, creating one of the worst points of traffic congestion in the entire Southland, and this is one of the few attributes that makes Diamond Bar significant. And those who don’t have to travel through will do so anyway, just to see what all the fuss is about, and this creates a kind of cruising mentality on the streets except none of the vehicles are actually moving. As a result, it now sometimes takes me more than an hour just to get out of Diamond Bar on my way to my office.

Needless to say, the crime rate isn’t all that significant in Diamond Bar because thieves can’t get into the city for all the freeway and street congestion, and if they did there would be no easy way for them to make a quick and easy get-away.

Despite its designation as a city and the congestion of its busy streets by commuters who only want to pass through, Diamond Bar still has fewer big business establishments than the surrounding communities. There are no really great centers of entertainment, that is, unless you are dull enough to consider the local bowling alley, the K-Mart, the County golf course, or a small number of BoBa tea shops entertainment. The only theater in town is closed at least 8 months out of the year, and the local Denny’s restaurant hasn’t had any live entertainment in eons. As far as amusement is concerned, Diamond Bar is a pretty dull, boring place, except for the many freeway chases, traffic collisions, and sigalerts where the 57 and 60 freeways merge, and these are always a welcome form of entertainment.

But the larger area surrounding Diamond Bar, Rowland Heights, and Walnut is remarkable for a number of reasons, and in many ways the region has become the focus of global attention. The transformation of the city and the surrounding area is much greater than the sum of new freeways and surface street congestion. Even more so, the transformation is one of rapidly changing social demographics. In the unincorporated neighboring community of Rowland Heights, for example, the local McDonald's sign is prominently displayed in English, Chinese, and Korean. I can’t read the latter two very well, but I know what they represent. It means we are rapidly becoming a global economy and that as things get more Westernized in the Far East, we should also expect to see more Eastern influences taking shape in the West. I understand that today in China and Taiwan fast food outlets such as McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, Burger King, Carl’s Jr., Seven Eleven, and many other Western establishments are all the rage, and can be found everywhere. Imagine the consternation of those poor Western adventurers who travel all the way to China just for the food!

Anyway, a great many of the familiar signs I remember in Diamond Bar from the past have long been replaced by a glowing, dizzying array of colorful neon signs written in very strange and (at least to my eyes) alien characters. The aroma of Marie Calendar’s Pies and Sizzler’s Steaks has been usurped by the smell of pork dumplings, soy sauce, and stinky tofu. The sound of elevator music and all-American "Rock and Roll that used to fill the airwaves has been jammed and replaced by music of a different sort, and while it may elevate and even rock" from time to time, it certainly isn’t the music I grew up with. What’s more, it often isn’t even in the English language. In fact, not only are the languages being spoken in Diamond Bar different, but many of them don’t even contain familiar sounds like those found in English. Instead they consist of impossible to pronounce syllables such as the following (and you have to imagine all of these as having a kind of rattling ‘r’ sound at the end): zhi, chi, shi, ri, zi, ci, si, or how about ch’ing, chiu, ch’iu, chiung, or other words such as k’ai, kan, kang, and k’ang. Listening to people speak these languages is a little like listening to a record player playing backwards with a broken needle and a lot of weird popping-spring sound effects.

And these people look different from the people I grew up with, too. Of course, all people look different when you get right down to it, but these people look really different. They are not only of a slightly different build and skin complexion than the whites, blacks, and Hispanics, but they have a different shape to their eyes, bigger mouths with lots of teeth and thick,  jet-black hair (if not always straight). Even their clothing seems to have come from another time and place, or perhaps another planet far, far away. I discovered that something very strange indeed was happening in the Valley. To my astonishment and utter disbelief, my suburbia had been invaded by Samurais!

That evolving social and cultural Mecca known as the San Gabriel Valley is no longer dominated by the young white bubble gum chewing Valley Girls that made the Valley famous in the mid-eighties, nor is it dominated by the Hispanic migrant workers laboring in the strawberry fields or bouncing up and down the boulevards in their pearl-white enameled Chevy low-riders equipped with hydraulic lifters. Those days are gone forever. Now, a powerful new Asian force is at work and play in the Valley, moving swiftly and deliberately, creating a high and proud profile. They are unlike their inner-city Chinatown and Little Tokyo predecessors who ventured to urban America primarily to escape poverty. There are other factors driving and drawing the new immigrants to America, including tensions in Asia, greater affluence, the desire to preserve their wealth, and elevated expectations about life in American Suburbia. They are generally wealthier, more educated and more resourceful than their predecessors, and - just like Samurai warriors - they are quick to take advantage of any opportunity and exploit any weakness that presents itself. These new suburban warriors see a whole new world of opportunity in the small towns and cities that make up the greater San Gabriel Valley, and the wave of new Samurai immigrants entering the Valley shows no signs of receding as they search out more desirable, more prestigious environs. Where there is little space left for new immigrants in already populated Valley cities, so their next tactical move will be to target the surrounding, untapped communities that are still largely white, black, or Hispanic to continue their quest into these areas. Yes, the Suburban Samurai are on the move!

I am not writing this book as a social scientist, because I am not such, and I would not have titled this book "Suburban Samurai" if that were the case. Instead, I am writing it only as an individual who has miraculously survived this wave of new immigration, and has been affected greatly by these changes. I will try to paint as broad a picture as I can of these rich new Asian immigrants who have made the San Gabriel Valley their home, discussing such varied topics as their incredible impact on the local economy, schools, and politics, to lighter subjects such as Asian restaurants and dining, entertainment and music, image and status, and feng shui. I will also touch upon some hot emotionally charged topics such as the dating disparity issue and the Asian superiority myth. At the same time, I hope that by writing this book I will dispel some of the more common and pervasive stereotypes and misunderstandings that exist today concerning these new immigrants and how they live in America. To distinguish between the two groups, I think of all Asians residing in the United States as Asian Americans, while I think of those rich new Asian immigrants who live in the tightly knit all-Asian suburban enclaves of the Valley as Suburban Samurai, regardless of their original nationality or legal status with the Immigration and Naturalization Service.

Of course, it is always possible when writing a book of this type with the intention of dispelling certain stereotypes that I might also unintentionally taint the book with other elements of my own personal prejudices and misconceptions. I am sure there are numerous readers already screaming that I am fanning rampant racist emotions through my careless use of terms like "Asian Invasion and Suburban Samurai," but if you think I am racist then you really don’t know me. Lighten up! Besides – how many real Samurais have you seen terrorizing the Valley?

There is the ever-present danger of misrepresentation of fact when writing an expose such as Suburban Samurai in the absence of genuine scientific, empirical research followed up by years of additional study and laborious and contentious scrutiny and criticism by Professional Behaviorists who engage in this sort of behavior. Happily, what I write will rely almost entirely on my own personal experiences and observations. I should add that I have a degree in the Behavioral Sciences, and so I do know how to conduct field observations and speculate on what I have observed. I have also watched a lot of TV in my life, including Sho-Gun and Kung-Fu Soccer, and I think these factors should be taken into consideration when one ultimately mulls over my qualifications to author a landmark sociological study such as Suburban Samurai. It should be quite apparent to readers that I am indeed fully qualified to approach this subject as only a professional could, but instead I will tackle it as an amateur purely for the fun and entertainment value of doing so.

As a Westerner, or "wai guo ren," which translates to outsider in Mandarin Chinese – I’ll explain all of this later, I have been simply awed (an oxymoron?) by the incredibly rapid demographic transformation of the Valley. And my personal life was also turned completely upside down by this incredible collision of East meets West, eventuating in my marriage to a Taiwanese Samurai and becoming step-father (father, really) to her two young children. I may be a wai guo ren to most Asians, but to the extent that I am married to a Samurai, and living in a Samurai community, and to the extent that I have been engulfed by this conflagration from the beginning, I am a veteran. I am not now nor was I every a wai guo ren, for I have always been an insider. As such, I also consider myself to be at least part Suburban Samurai, and also at least part Asian American.

As an eminently qualified armchair behaviorist, theorist and social commentator (a conclusion I am certain you have reached by now), and at least part Samurai, I am also a fairly good cartoonist and humorist, so don’t be too surprised if the cartoonist and humorist in me comes out swinging on occasion as I exercise my artistic license to paint my picture and tell my story as I would have it, rather than as others might like to hear it. I will throw in a lot of editorial opinionating and subjective bitching and complaining too, because it is quite impossible not to, really. Besides, what else is a cartoon-illustrated book titled "Suburban Samurai" all about, if not to invite controversy? I simply enjoy viewing social phenomena in weird and strange ways. That is, after all, what cartoonists, humorists, and even social scientists do, right? As a behaviorist I know well that the cartoonist in me will never be able to sketch a simple cartoon without also offending someone, somewhere. Cartoonists are offensive by nature: they poke fun at people, and some people don’t like to have fun poked at them. In fact, I once drew a very mild cartoon poking fun at hip-hoppers, who are not in the least bit offended by the lewd, antisocial, and hateful lyrics that their idols spew out to them through pounding speakers, and yet a group of hip-hoppers found my cartoon offensive!

So I would be a fool to think I could delve into any of the really emotionally charged issues such as China vs. Taiwan politics without offending or angering someone, somewhere, or to discuss why so many Westerners think Asians are incredibly loud, rude, abrupt, and obnoxious, without really pissing off someone, somewhere. Nor could I tackle raw issues such as the perceived glass ceiling that Asian Americans feel prevents them from advancing in Corporate America, or the equally raw-nerved and hypersensitive interracial dating disparity issue (to be discussed later in this book) without raising the rank and ire of someone, somewhere. Knowing I can't please everyone, the best I can hope for is to please myself and maybe some of my readers, too, by saying what I want to say, being as fair as possible when saying it, and then allowing the chips to fall where they may. After all, I am the one writing this book, and I suppose that fact alone entitles me to express my own thoughts and opinions within these pages, wouldn’t you agree?

So this book should not be considered as a sociological study so much as it is a sociological caricature. I would never expect even my most bellicose critics to judge this book as an honest stab at journalistic excellence. This book is certainly not going to win a Pulitzer Prize or earn me a much coveted guest appearance spot on the Tonight Show. And while this book may be registered in the Library of Congress, it certainly won’t be required text in any graduate programs offered by universities backed by regional accreditation. Instead this book is simply my attempt to convey to readers a very broad-stroke feel for what I have seen and experienced as these new invaders have conquered my little corner of the world. I hope I will succeed in painting a picture of these immigrants that is rich, colorful, enlightening, and entertaining enough that you will read it from cover to cover, and also informative enough that you will refer to it often. That is my goal, for this is my own personal exposé, my own account of what it means to live in a place transformed by a new wave of friendly invaders, but invaders nonetheless: the Suburban Samurai of the San Gabriel Valley. 

SUBURBAN SAMURAI THE INVASION BEGINS

The new invasion began with the first really big wave of Samurai immigrants and refugees from South Vietnam just as the long Vietnam War was drawing to a close. These people didn’t come here looking for an easy life; rather they came here to work hard to build new lives in places like Westminster, where they struck first by taking over all the donut shops and nail salons (really, it was the Cambodians who conquered the donut shops). There was also a wave of Japanese immigration that began in the late sixties and continued on through the early eighties. This big wave was launched with a fierce and steady bombardment of cheap Japanese toys, gadgets, electronics and small appliances into American homes, and then escalated into corporate takeovers and buyouts of American corporations by rich Japanese holding companies ruled by Samurai Directors and CEOs. But the momentum of the invasion faltered when the invaders failed to fill supply lines with enough batteries to keep all the cheap electronic toys powered up and entertaining.

It didn’t take long after this initial wave struck that an even greater wave of Chinese, Taiwanese, and Korean Samurai began arriving around