Monday, Feb. 25, 1952

Democracy in Southwood

The white bungalow with the pink shutters in San Francisco's Southwood subdivision was just what Sing Sheng and his family wanted. With their second baby coming soon, they needed more room than they had in their little house on Eagle Street, and Southwood was only ten minutes away from Sing's job as a mechanic for Pan American World Airways. So Sing, a 26-year-old former Chinese Nationalist intelligence officer, scraped together $2,950 for the down payment, and began buying furniture. Then he got a phone call. Their future neighbors, all white, didn't want them to move in. "I was not born in America, and I don't understand," said Sing. "I didn't know about any race prejudice at all."

Nothing Personal. Sing, a U.S. college graduate who took refuge in the U.S. when the Communists came to power in China, thought surely that a problem like this could be solved in a democracy. He asked to see some of the neighbors, and was pleased as could be when the first man who showed up was Charles H. ("Harry") Carlyle, a fellow Pan American employee. Sing and Carlyle had met at the plant, and Carlyle had fondly recalled the Chinese friends he made in China before the war. But Harry quickly made it clear that he was not on Sing's side. Nothing personal, he said, but the property owners didn't want the area overrun by non-Caucasians and the value of their homes lessened. The other neighbors added that they had clauses in their deeds forbidding sales of properties to non-Caucasians.

Sing knew that the U.S. Supreme Court had declared such clauses unenforceable. What would happen if he insisted on his rights and moved in? Well, said the neighbors, the children might be inclined to throw garbage on his lawn and break his windows. Sing said he didn't see how children would do things like that unless their parents told them to, and that hardly seemed like a good way to bring up children in a country dedicated to the principles of Washington and Lincoln.

At that point, Les Clements, construction supervisor for Williams & Burrows, Southwood home builders, stepped up to straighten out Sing's thinking. "Look," said Clements. "You've been to college and been taught to think that the U.S. is just like the America of Washington and Lincoln that they write about in history. But that's not the whole picture. There are other things to be considered, and people must stick together to protect their property rights."

"Please Vote for Us." Then Sing proposed a "democratic" way out: let the neighbors vote on whether his family should move in, and he would abide by the decision. The residents agreed, and a ballot went to every Southwood home. With great hope, Sing sent each resident a letter: "Before you reach any decision as to how you will vote in the ballot, allow us to tell you our opinion. The present world conflict is not between individual nations, but between Communism and democracy. We think so highly of democracy because it offers freedom and equality. America's forefathers fought for these principles and won the independence of 1776. We have forsaken all our beloved in China and have come to this country seeking the same basic rights. Do not make us the victims of false democracy. Please vote for us." A real-estate development company also sent out a letter to South-wood's home owners: protect your property, keep the non-Caucasians out.

Last week, in Harry Carlyle's garage, the votes were counted: 174 objected to Sing Sheng and his family; only 28 did not, 14 had no opinion.

Sing, neatly dressed in a double-breasted dark blue suit, rose to speak to the neighbors while his Chinese-American wife wept. "Thank you very much for your decision," said Sing bitterly. "I hope your property values will go up every three days."

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