By K. W. Lee

The future of a child born of the Korean womb is already programmed at birth-bound for Harvard. Most Korean moms would gladly give their own right arms to have their children enter the narrow gate to that ultimate success.

The Harvard mystique-the key that opens the door to fame and fortune-runs deep in the Korean and Korean American psyche: SAT, Harvard, six-digit-figure income, Ph.D.s and M.D.s, Wall Street addresses, CEOs, tenured professorships and a Mercedes-Benz

Korean cram schools for admissions to Harvard, Yale and Princeton in that order make up a thriving enterprise in major Korean settlements across the continent. Educational tours of select Ivy League colleges are annual affairs. And preparatory schools make appeals to immigrant parents through ads in ethnic dailies, which also run daily sections on prestige colleges.

Many parents have gone to the extreme by naming their sons (never daughters) Harvard and Yale as an abiding psychological incentive. I personally know at least three sons who bear the names of Harvard.

The crowning jewel of the Harvard moniker belongs to Harvard Jee, former honorary co-chair of the National Democratic Convention in San Francisco and fugitive from justice for defrauding three banks in California of $34 million.

The Democratic National Committee’s announcement of Jee’s co-chairmanship appointment was aimed at helping Jee raise at least $350,000 from the Asian American community..

The mystery international businessman with alleged ties to the dreaded Korean Central Intelligence Agency (KCIA) had nursed a lifetime ambition of making it to Harvard-without success. Instead he was, as a steadfast fund-raiser, linked to the presidential campaigns of Walter Mondale, as well as to former House Speaker Thomas P. "Tip" O’Neill, Jimmy Carter’s 1976 and 1980 presidential campaigns and to former California Gov. Jerry Brown, the late Sen. Alan Cranston and other politicians.

Jee was indicted on 15 federal counts of cheating Bank of Lloyds and Korea Exchange Bank and Hanil Bank, Ltd. to the total tune of $34 million, a week after a three-part series of exposes on the intricate machinations of the aspiring Harvardman was published in the now-defunct Sacramento Union. It wasn’t until The Union’s investigative reporters began looking into Jee’s affairs that the Democratic committee announced that Jee’s appointment had been both premature and a mistake.

At one bankruptcy hearing, the judge said it appeared that Jee was deliberately trying to "cheat, steal and defraud."

Shortly he fled to South Korea then under military strongman Chun Doo Hwan and has been reported being seen on both sides of the Pacific. Some in the Asian ethnic media began referring to the mess as "Harvardgate" which still remains unresolved.

And another kind of Harvardgate with new high-tech trappings is brewing.

In the past decade, to my unbelieving eyes, I came to bear witness to the rapid rise of neo-Yangbans (read neo-Mandarins) emerging from the breeding grounds of Harvard and other Ivy-League colleges at a time when the other Korean America-seething and-bleeding-cries out for defenders, fighters and healers for social and racial justice.


No matter. I count it my blessing that I have been a secret Boswell of a remarkable young woman from Harvard whose life has come to demonstrate the very opposite of that Harvard elitism so long embedded in the Confucian mindset of not only Korean but other Asian Americans.

Her name is Joan Kim, a friend, mentor, tutor and healer among the most wretched people in America’s inner-cities, who has been a source of inspiration for this aging FOB.

Joan Kim would easily qualify for the ideal candidate for the Harvard model: Whitney High School, valedictorian, National Merit Scholar, Robert C. Byrd Honors scholar, Los Angeles Times Outstanding Student Award.

After Harvard, the world would be her oyster.

One scorching June afternoon, a decade ago, a skinny, shy girl slung with a huge shoulder bag tiptoed into my dingy cluttered newsroom in Koreatown and, in an inaudible whisper, asked for an intern job during the summer break. She said she was just out of high school and college-bound that fall. At first glance I was struck by her ethereal quality-a wispy figure as fragile as a flower petal. In a curious way I felt a spiritual presence. (And my newshound’s sense turned out to be on target.)

Those were unsettling times with escalating "black-Korean conflict" fanned by marathon race baiting by the local media. Commonplace were everyhour shootings and robberies and everyday murders haunting "holes-in-the-wall" mom and pop storekeepers in the mean streets.

By the end of that summer, Joan Kim proved to be the best among some 20 interns, mostly Ivy League students and graduates, and much older regular staff members. For her age, she had produced extraordinary stories for the initial editions of the Korea Times English Edition weekly, which debuted on Aug. 15, the liberation day.

Her investigative pieces on festering inner-city gangs and violence, rapidly shifting demographies and inter-ethnic conflicts continued to be front-page attractions throughout her all too-brief summer stint. For days and nights, she would disappear into the turf-war territories and came up with the first insider view of the Koreatown-grown gangs. What unnerved this veteran crime reporter most was her utter disregard of the ever-lurking danger in the nation’s most violent Wilshire District that embraces Koreatown. She was utterly fearless-almost to a reckless degree.

Seeing was believing. I was invited to one of her many sittings with her gangbangers only to find her serenely at home with her trusting subjects as if she had been their lifelong buddy and sister. And she was turning 18 years old.

Come September, she was gone with the wind. Bound for Harvard. Soon came Sa-ee-gu and the demise of the weekly English Edition. I was in semi-hibernation after a liver transplant.

Four summers later, I heard from her that after Harvard she had settled with a social engineering job at Price Waterhouse in the nation’s capital but decided to move ahead for a medical missionary career.

"UC San Diego School of Medicine," she wrote in August 1996, "accepted me for the upcoming year, largely because of your letter of recommendation.
"However, I won’t be going this year. Another door opened-one that might interest you. A Korean merchant named Joon Park bought a strip bar/parlor right above his (discount) store and turned it into a taekwondo studio (on 14th Street NW).

"He did it for the low-income kids in the neighborhood (who are mostly African American). Since the kids can’t pay, he’s paying their scholarships. He hired a sixth degree blackbelt with a master’s degree in theology to teach.

"The Washington Post did a story on him last week. They interviewed the neighbors, who said that they could really see a difference in those kids. Mr. Park simply said that he wanted to be a good friend and offer a more constructive alternative to the streets.

"This Mr. Park used to go to our (Global Mission) church. Our church has been looking for the ways to become more involved in the community and reach out to other ethnic groups in our local area.

"We talked to Mr. Park’s son (Steve), who manages the studio. Steve reported that the studio had just re-opened, that they were forming great relationships with the kids and the parents. A community was forming there, Steve said. The family sees this as their ministry, a way of sharing God’s love to their neighbors. They are working to help bring racial reconciliation.

"Steve also said that they really want to start an after school/tutoring program for the kids in the neighborhood, to get them off the streets. This is where our church could come in. However, right now, no one has stepped forward to lead our church’s efforts in community outreach.

"I left Price Waterhouse last week, planning to go to medical school. However, after our meeting with Steve three days ago, my plans have changed!

"The decision was really, really tough for me. What clinched it was a question my friend asked me-"What would Jesus do?" My answer was immediate-"He’d be working with those kids." That made my decision clear.

"I’m not going back to Price Waterhouse since it just takes too much time. I can’t do both. I’ll be looking for flexible/part-time work pretty soon so that afternoons could be free for me to volunteer.

"However, for now, I’m just praying, and starting to talk with others to start moving our church into our community.

"This is really exciting. Thanks for your example, which has always inspired me to become more involved in race relations in our cities. I’ll keep reporting as things develop!

"Hope your health is holding up. Please take good care of yourself. Love, Joan Kim (with a smile sign)."

That was five summers ago-just the beginning of a long journey into the darkest heart of America. And her UNICEF card informing me of her deliberate decision opened my eyes to the hidden side of Joan Kim, the Harvard prototype.

And this latter-day Joan of Arc is not alone. She’s very much part of the underground urban revolutionary movement with love silently under way in pockets of the bleak urbanscape of this country.

Stay tuned for the next columns, especially for those Korean moms who still dream of the American Dream in crimson color.