From Canton to Calgary by Lexie Angelo

Ho Lem was a Calgary businessman and a leader in Calgary’s Chinese community. Arriving in Vancouver in 1901, he was attracted to Calgary by the Chinese Mission’s free English classes. He initially found employment as a dishwasher, which led to Ho Lem eventually operating his own restaurant (or two), the Savoy and Belmont Cafés. Historical records about when the two cafes and an associated rooming house were in operation are conflicting, but we do know that Ho Lem successfully grew his small business to the point that he expanded into the laundry and wool-knitting mill businesses, as well as erecting the Ho Lem Block in the third and current Chinatown in 1911. 

Illustration by Jarett Sitter

CURATOR'S NOTE

Museum research is always ongoing, and as new information arises we make updates to reflect these changes. We Were Here: Stories from Early Chinatown was researched and curated in 2021 using the City of Calgary Chinatown Context Paper, published in 2018. In 2022, several updates were made to the paper, including the updating of the Ho Lem name.

The story "From Canton to Calgary" tells the tale of Ho Lem's involvement in early Calgary history and his place in the building of the current Chinatown. Although this story refers to ‘George Ho Lem’ in the original text, the name 'Ho Lem' should be used to refer to this pioneer and founder of Calgary’s third Chinatown. Ho Lem should not be confused with his son, George Ho Lem, who was an MLA from 1971-1975.

George Ho Lem: From Canton to Calgary by Lexie Angelo, read by the author

It was a warm Spring afternoon in 1906 and the rooming house above the Savoy Café was nearly full. Mr. George Ho Lem stood behind the counter as a queue of dishevelled and exhausted men came looking for a bed. The two o’clock train from Vancouver had just arrived, and George had managed to fit eight additional mattresses in the attic.  

“It’s two dollars for the week,” George said in Cantonese. The young man across the café counter had thin eyebrows, full cheeks and wore a Black button top with a red stripe along the collar. He pushed two crumpled bills forward.  

George swept the cash into the register, recited the rules of the boarding house and pointed upstairs, but the young man didn’t move. He asked where he could find work. 

“Chong Lee’s laundry is two blocks from here and he’s looking for six men. It’s seven days hard work for a strong ox like you,” George said. “It pays twenty-five dollars a month.” 

The young man shook his head. He didn’t like the laundry work he did in Vancouver. He wanted to be a cook. 

“You need English if you want to work in a café or on a ranch,” George explained in the familiar dialect. He handed him a church flyer that read Mr. Underwood expands church services and English classes at Chinese Mission and urged him to begin classes the following Sunday. 

 The following week, the owner of the Savoy, Mr. Thomas Warren, arrived unannounced with a bundle of paperwork and a look of frustration. As soon as George saw him, he set down his mop, and brought a cup of coffee to the table where Mr. Warren had already unfurled a map. 

“George, I tell you one day I’m going to run for council so I can have a real say in this city. Did you hear today’s announcement?” He gulped his coffee and motioned for George to sit. 

Above them, the ceiling creaked and groaned with movement. Mr. Warren cautiously glanced up, but George ignored the undulations of the rooming house. He focused his eyes on the intersection Mr. Warren had circled: Tenth Avenue and First Street. “What is this?” he asked. 

“Canadian Pacific is planning a mammoth hotel and depot right by the train station,” said Mr. Warren. “And our mayor has already promised them a generous tax exemption.”  

“A new hotel means more jobs for the men here,” George gestured at the staircase leading up to the communal rooms. “Everyone wants work.” 

“But what about the men who’ve yet to arrive? Already the boarding houses and hotels are full. How many have you got here now?” 

“Almost thirty.” 

“My God.” 

George let the silence hang in the air. “Sir, what if we opened a second café? I have enough men to cook and clean a full restaurant, and we could house another forty men.” 

Mr. Warren paused. “It’s not a bad idea, George. Let me talk to Hugh.” 

By the following Spring, most buildings surrounding the train station had sold. The wealthy landowners wasted no time capitalizing on the excitement of the new hotel, and rumours swirled on both sides of the tracks that properties were selling at three times their original price. Developers promised the mayor a new era of business blocks, forcing the laundries, gambling houses, and bordellos to either move or shut down.   

“Wing Sun is looking for new premises for his grocery,” George said in Cantonese. It was late in the evening and George was with his two friends, Harry Lee and Luey Kheong, in the storage room tucked at the back of Luey’s restaurant. Obscured by bags of grain, the men squatted on short wooden stools around a makeshift gambling table.  

Harry nodded but didn’t look up. Instead, he lit a cigarette and re-shuffled the deck of cards, flicking five in front of each man. Luey poured another round of Sam Suey and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The radio played a familiar song, and smoke hung above the three players just like fog over the river on a rainy evening in Canton. 

“If we owned the land for our businesses—we could be masters of our own fate,” said Luey. “There are two parcels near the hospital and new drill hall.” 

“And there will be plenty of soldiers to greet us too,” chimed George. 

Luey cracked a smile. “What do you suggest?”  

“We should hold a meeting of the Chinese merchants. We can review the parcels available and discuss this seriously. The mayor won’t consider our wishes if we don’t have a proposal.” 

“He’ll consider anything from you,” cajoled Harry. “He’s at your laundry on Tuesday, and your café every Thursday.” 

“It’s true, he is a hungry man,” George chuckled. 

The men swapped bets and cards in succession, laughing and talking loudly, when suddenly there were two bangs on the back door. Luey sucked in his breath and swept the cards and whiskey bottle into a box. Harry snuffed out the lights, but it was too late. On the third bang, a uniformed police officer kicked through the wooden door. “Stop, you there,” the officer shouted and reached for flesh in the darkness. George and Luey scrambled through the kitchen. They weaved around bags of potatoes, sacks of flour, and fled out a side door. The men ran for two blocks and stopped to catch their breath outside the King Edward Cigar Store. Harry wasn’t behind them. Luey kicked a wall and swore. “Look at us, chased through town like a disease. Will it ever stop?” 

“I’ll pay the officer in the morning, Luey. Harry will be fine. We are lucky, the new police chief doesn’t mind our gambling. He has other problems.” 

“And what will your wife think when she comes here, George?” Luey argued. 

“I will find out soon enough.” 

George sat facing the window in his new café, The Belmont. It was a cool evening in October 1910 and George was busy scrutinizing a map of Second Avenue and Centre Street. Upstairs his wife and son slept, but George stayed awake jotting down notes in Cantonese. The next morning, he was going to be meeting with the city commissioners, including Mayor Jamieson and Alderman Brocklebank, to discuss the future location of a new Chinatown. His friends, Luey Kheong and Harry Lee, would be with him, and the men hoped to walk away with an agreement to build the first of several new business blocks. Luey had an impressive plan for a two-storey commercial and residential block named after their home in Canton. George had similar plans and he prayed that night to see his dream realized. 

At ten o’clock, the men were seated around a large table, scuffed from years of debate between engineers and elected officials as they negotiated parcels of land and interrogated the prospective buyers. George wore his finest pressed Black striped trousers, polished shoes and starched white shirt. He sat opposite Alderman Dick Brocklebank, who frequently checked the time, and had a full mane of neatly trimmed white hair. To his right was Luey Kheong, and to his left sat Harry Lee. Along the wall, the gentlemen’s coats and bowler hats hung on pegs. In the far corner, a radiator rattled. Mayor Jamieson sat at the head of the table and scrutinized the drawings in severe detail. 

“It’s an undesirable parcel, yet you are motivated to purchase it. I must say, these are ambitious development plans,” Mayor Jamieson concluded. “How many letters did we receive on this file, clerk?” 

“Ten letters against, sir. One suggested council consider a more appropriate space such as one would for an isolated hospital.”  

Mayor Jamieson tapped his pencil and sighed. “It seems no matter where the Chinese merchants locate, there is opposition. What will be the fate of the laundries at this new location, Mr. Ho Lem?” 

“Sir, the laundry merchants are willing to move from their current premises to Second Avenue East as soon as construction on the first block is complete. Already there is a laundry shortage because buildings have been demolished to make way for the hotel.” 

Several men nodded in agreement. The city’s laundries were overworked, running until past midnight to keep up with the high demand.  

Mayor Jamieson cautioned the three eager businessmen. 

“If we approve this land purchase, you will each be accountable for the success of the Chinese merchant community and your reputations will be inseparable from your bargain today.”  

The men respectfully agreed to the terms. 

“I still need assurances the Chinese community will move,” barked Alderman Brocklebank turning to the mayor’s seat. “The Canadian Pacific wants to break ground in May next year.” 

Mayor Jamieson turned to the men. “Let’s agree to delay the decision on the Ho Lem block until next month,” he paused. “However, the Canton Block will be approved on the condition it must be complete before April 1911. Can I trust you gentlemen will finish on time?”  

George, Luey and Harry exchanged looks and smiled. 

“Yes sir, it will be done.” 

Illustration by Jarett Sitter