The Chinese came to Santa Barbara in the i86o's, somewhat later than they did to Northern California. Their interest was in Jobs: farming, fishing and domestic work. As a Barbareno, I must insist that the climate brought them too, but their impact here was much the same as on other parts of the state: here were the Chinese houseboys (who worked 16 hours a day, seven days a week, for $25 a week, sending home to China as much as they could spare); the Chinese New Year celebrations with their dragon and fireworks, the tongs, the laundries and restaurants, and the occasional character who was long remembered in the little Channel city. ~ One of the oldest local families is that of Jimmy Lee Chung, who to this day runs a restaurant on Canon Perdido Street in the heart of town. His grandfather came in 1862, and the family has never moved from Santa Barbara's Chinatown. This region, surrounding the old Presidio, is today and was in my boyhood, an area of little houses and Buddhist churches perched defiantly on the edge of the town's cultural and shopping center. I can myself remember the green dragon being carried in the Fiesta parade, and the house marked KUO MIN TANG OF CHINA, that no one was ever seen entering or leaving. ~ ~ But as comparative newcomers to the city, we didn^t know the half of our Chinatown. Old records preserve the memory of Gin Chow (1837-1933), prophet and son of a prophet, who left his native Singcheng near Canton to come to Lompoc in Santa Barbara County. He battled the Southern Pacific Railroad over the price of his land—and won; he issued weather predictions superior to those of the U.S. Weather Bureau; he predicted the Tokyo earthquake of 1923, and in 1924 posted a prediction on the bulletin board of the post office, announcing that Santa Barbara would be struck by a severe earthquake on 29 June, 1925. At 6:3o that morning the earthquake arrived with a rumble and roar and demolished every house on State Street. After that, Barbarenos walked in awe of Gin Chow; when he issued an almanac in 1932 it became a best seller. He climaxed a brilliant (if mystifying) career by correctly predicting the day of his own death. ~ Tong is a word that most Americans have assumed refers to an institution of the past. But the tongs still exist, though as peaceful benevolent associations; two still operate in Santa Barbara. In 1923, the city had its last long war which happened as follows: Two tongs, the Hop Sing and the Bing Kong, ruled the city's lotteries, fan tan games, and laundry-men from a big joss house and Chinese Masonic Temple at 27 East Canon Perdido Street. They took turns, year by year, leasing the property. One autumn night the Hop Sing long met in the joss house, and faced with the expiration of their lucrative lease, decided they were not going to give it up. The Bing Kong, meeting across the street, got word of their rival's plans, and had determined to thwart them. Accordingly, they hired two hatchet men from San Francisco and installed them in a parked car, watching the exit door of the joss house. Meanwhile the Bing Kong were meeting with a young white criminal lawyer, W. P. Butcher, asking him to defend the two Chinese on a murder charge—before the murder had been committed. ~ Around midnight, as the lawyer and his clients debated the problem, a crackle of gunfire was heard, and they all rushed outdoors. Sprawled in front of the joss house lay the body of Gin Han, President of the Hop Sing long. As it happened, the Rose Theater next door had Just let out its last patrons; consequently, twenty-five persons witnessed the shooting and saw the assassins toss their gloves and revolvers into the street and speed away. ~ Next day the getaway car was located, two Chinese were found hiding in a nearby barn, and the case seemed solved. However, there was more to ~ ~ ~ ~ From a lithograph courtesy of John Howell. Chinatown location index added. ~ come. At the grand jury hearing, the defendants pleaded not guilty, claiming they were victims of mistaken identity. When the district attorney protested that he had twenty-Eve witnesses to the crime, the defendants' lawyer sent the prisoners into the Jury room, along with eight other Chinese, none of whom had any connection with the case. ~ The Witnesses looked into the ten Chinese faces, and when they were asked to pick out the guilty pair, a long silence ensued. In the end the district attorney had no choice but to release the entire group. For once the law, that most inscrutable institution of the Occident, had come face to face with the inscrutable Orient. ~ ~ The next year, 1926, the Chinese Six Companies outlawed long wars, and the Santa Barbara Chinatown entered a quieter era. The two tongs are still active, but the Chinese population has scattered elsewhere in town. Today only a few small shops and import houses recall the days when this was the only center of Chinese activity in the city. ~ Further details of the life of Santa Barbara's Chinatown will be found in the Noticias of the Santa Barbara Historical Society, v. 13, no. 4, for Autumn, 1967. Part of their museum in the Old Mission contains a Chinese room, with Han scrolls and early pioneers' equipment, given by a distinguished resident. Material for this essay was provided by Ms. Jan Mullen of the Reference Staff of the Santa Barbara Public Library, to whom the writer wishes to express the most grateful thanks.