Editorial:
Chinatown powerhouse Rose Pak wasn’t about left or right, but what she felt was best for the neighborhood.
Rose Pak could be hard edged, tough talking and ready to take on anyone who crossed her, friends included at times. When she savored a cigar and the smoke curled up under appraising eyes, it was a warning sign of her coiled strength.
She was a City Hall powerhouse, though she never held office, served on a commission or commanded a political club. Her strength came from connections and a willingness to speak bluntly about what matters most: the interests of her Chinatown neighborhood, which felt walled off from decision making.
The results were an ever-changing mix. She backed a failed waterfront condo project because it could spin off subsidies for below-market units elsewhere. She arm-twisted donations for a hospital rebuild that’s now finishing up. A multibillion-dollar subway project now burrowing under Chinatown might as well be named after her.
Hers was never a left-versusright political dynamic. It didn’t much matter who the ally of the moment was. It was all about what she thought the neighborhood needed. She fought with nearly every mayor in the past 40 years, though she could turn around and become an ally the next instant. The one constant: She wasn’t afraid to wield her power like a blowtorch.
One of her proudest moments was ushering in San Francisco’s first Asian American mayor. She eagerly pushed interim Mayor Ed Lee to dump his pledge to serve only temporarily as a fill-in leader. Pak persuaded him to “Run Ed Run” for a full term that he won. Then she crossed Lee by rejecting the mayor’s pick for a district taking in Chinatown and backed Aaron Peskin, who won.
Extreme power may be corrupting, but in Pak’s case there’s no evidence. She lived simply and alone, an almost monkish existence in a city that glows with wealth. Still, she enjoyed her public stature, grabbing the microphone at the Chinese New Year Parade to offer acid comments as each float and arm-waving political figure passed the grandstand from where she looked down.
For over a year she battled renal failure and had a kidney transplant in China. When she returned here in May, she was greeted at the airport with lion dancers, the mayor and a half dozen other electeds. Even with shaky health, she commanded respect and a motorcade back to town.
Pak had no use for polls, publicists and collegial networking, and was the polar opposite of conventional decision-making. Her monolingual neighborhood with its crowded streets, struggling businesses and scarce housing needed answers, not drawn out studies. Her all-elbows style went directly to the decision point without any delays.
With any powerful figure’s passing, the inevitable question is who might fill the vacuum. That’s not likely to happen anytime soon. Pak required neither a mentor nor a successor. She was her own distinct creation.