Monday, October 19, 2015

Independent magazine stands up to a billionaire. It cost them $650,000

Mother Jones is an American investigative magazine published by a non-profit organization. 
They took on the big guys -- and were proven right in court -- but it ate up three years of their life and US $650,000.
This case shows everything wrong with how media is funded - and why only the biggest, most commercial firms can continue to do critical news journalism.
(Or, better put, how most media is not funded, thanks to a generation of readers who won't pay the cost of a cup of coffee for their daily news. But that's another blog post.)
Whether you are in a democracy like America, a quasi-democracy like Hong Kong, the greatest restraints are often not direct government censorship, but financial pressures.
Below is "MoJo"'s message. 
If you want to donate, go here.
Here's a link to the original 2012 article that got them in trouble. 
We stood up to a billionaire political donor and won. But it cost us greatly.

Mother Jones was sued by a wealthy conservative activist with a record of intimidating journalists. After a long battle, the judge dismissed the case just before it went to trial.

Frank VanderSloot was one of Mitt Romney’s national finance co-chairs in 2012, when we published a story about his political contributions, his record of opposing LGBT rights, and his company’s regulatory woes. (See more here.) When we wouldn’t retract the story, he sued. But we fought back because it’s not just about us. It’s about making sure you can trust someone to go after the truth, whatever it takes. It’s a monumental win, and we need your help to cover the $650,000 out-of-pocket expenses the lawsuit has cost us. And because we’re not done with this fight: VanderSloot issued a statement saying he is establishing and pledging $1 million to a legal fund for people seeking to sue Mother Jones and other members of the “liberal press.”

Make your emergency, tax-deductible donation using the form below—please give as generously as you can, and spread the word after you have. This is truly urgent, and we need you with us.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

#BuyHK - Breakfast at Open Kitchen

There are different ways of supporting a city.  You can protest on the streets, or you can do it with your wallet. (Or both!) With my new #BuyHK campaign, I am going to try to support as many local enterprises as possible, especially in occupied areas.

It's easy to end up at Starbucks, Pret a Manger or McDonald's without thinking about it. They dominate every mall, street and MTR downtown  -- and are the fast, cheap option for busy working folk.

My friend Yenni - a fellow working-mom journalist - and I often go to Open Kitchen in IFC for pre-work breakfasts like this.

 For the same cost as Starbucks, I'd rather get this cappuccino in the elegant China cup and the handmade pastry.

Today, I returned to Open Kitchen for take-out before my newsroom shift. I got a pear pastry and a box of roast pumpkin and green salad. It was HK $70 (US $9), which is a fair price. Also, they use environmentally-friendly cardboard boxes and paper bags with a pretty pink design.

Open Rice is part of the Simply Life chain opened in Hong Kong in 2007.

Photos are mine. Please credit and link if you use them.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The #BuyHK campaign starts at a Mongkok street market

I was returning from the Mongkok protests when I stopped by a wet market.

It's not a big one -- just a line of stalls on the way to Tai Kok Tsui. The roast pork (both "siu jook" and "char siu") looked mighty better than the ones I usually pick up at my local mall Cafe de Coral. The fruits and vegetables were fresher and more varied than the sad, plastic-wrapped, decaying ones at Park N Shop. I got meat, chives and green-skinned plums that were surprisingly sweet.

I chatted with the vendors, who all said they were suffering because of the Occupy protests. Because their stuff is fresh everyday, and nothing is refrigerated, they don't have the storage flexibility of a big supermarket. Either they order less - and their customers complain - or they waste food when nobody guys it at the end of the day. As much as I support Occupy, I have to admit this is a real problem.

Walking an extra 15 minute to pick up groceries is not a big deal. But it made me think about how we can make a change doing what we do basically all day long -- which is consuming.

There are different ways to support Hong Kong - and sitting on the streets is only one of them.

So, starting today, I am going to try to buy local Hong Kong products - from independent vendors, particularly inside the occupy zones - as much as is realistic. I'll be logging it all on my Twitter feed @JoyceLauNews under the new hashtag #BuyHongKong.

All photos by Joyce Lau. Please credit & link if you're going to use them.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Feature on tycoon Lui Che-woo

I've worked so long for the NYT, where everything goes online, that it now feels weird -- wasteful even -- to work for print-only publications.

The Peak, an SCMP glossy, doesn't post full stories online. That is their choice. If they want readers to pick up and pay for what they read, I don't want to deter that by posting everything on this free site.

However -- speaking personally  -- I have fun doing profiles, and am proud of my work. I want my articles to be out there in the public record, especially when I can flex my writing muscles in long-form features.

I've decided on a compromise: For magazines like The Peak, I will reprint my articles in full well after they've moved onto the next month's issue.

Here's my profile of Lui Che-woo, one of the richest men in Asia. I spent half the day following him around -- though a photo shoot, interview and lunch -- and found his rags-to-riches backstory fascinating.

The copyright remains with The Peak and the South China Morning Post Group. This came out in August.


Some tycoons build skyscrapers. Lui Che-woo helped build the very land on which the skyscrapers stand.

Lui, now 84, looks out the window of his penthouse office at North Point’s K Wah Centre – named after the K Wah group he founded in 1955– and gestures across the water at the vast sweep of East Kowloon that did not exist when he was a boy. Almost all of it, from the new cruise terminal up to the old airport, from Lam Tin to nearly Tsim Sha Tsui, was reclaimed from the ever-shrinking waters of Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong’s bid to create more land.

In the distance, Lui can even see Tai Sheung Tok, the peak on the border of the New Territories that is home to the Anderson Road Quarry, where K Wah has spent decades extracting materials which have been used to make the concrete jungle of Hong Kong. “We opened up the very mountains,” he says. “It used to be done with picks, by hand, but we brought machines in.” On a clear day, you can see the deep indents marring the terraced hillside – though Lui concedes that, in today’s more environmentally aware times, there are now plans to replant and beautify the area.

While Lui has long been among Hong Kong’s rich, it was only quite late in life that he was catapulted into the realms of the world’s super wealthy. His business empire – which is now truly global, with 25,000 employees – has its roots in Hong Kong construction, property development and hospitality – and recently, Macau casinos.

According to Forbes' World Billionaires List on June 20 (the list is now updated daily), Lui's estimated personal net worth was US$17.3 billion, making him the third-richest person in Hong Kong. About three years ago, when the Galaxy Macau complex opened, he was ranked 14th in Forbes' annual Hong Kong rich list. He's since risen up the ranks – to No 8 in 2012 and No 5 in 2013 – largely because his family owns about 50 percent of Hong Kong-listed Galaxy Entertainment Group.

In many ways, Li Ka-shing – who remains the wealthiest man in Asia, known as “superman” in Hong Kong – and Lui, both well into their 80s, come from similar roots. Both fled as child refugees from mainland China in the 1930s and arrived in the then British colony of Hong Kong, where they made their fortunes by taking advantage of the city’s extraordinary boom in the 1960s, ‘70s and ‘80s. And both have given back to the community with extensive charity work, particularly in the field of education.


Lui’s philanthropy work began in the early 1980s, when he was the chairman of the Tung Wah hospital group.  Over the decades, his charitable causes have branched out from Hong Kong to mainland China and overseas – with a particular focus on higher education.

His name graces the law library at the University of Hong Kong (HKU), a historic complex at Fudan University in Shanghai, and a medical research lab at Stanford University in California. The Chinese University of Hong Kong named its Clinical Sciences Building after Lui Che-woo in 2012 following a HK$100 million donation. Lui was also one of the major donors who supported the building of the new University of Macau campus.

In addition to funding, Lui has used his experience to lend professional expertise to Hong Kong’s hotel and tourism schools, which barely existed a generation ago. Along with its stakes in Galaxy’s casinos and hotels in Macau, his family owns 13 hotels in the United States, including seven Hiltons.

“We have benefited from Lui’s invaluable insights and advice in developing our hotel and tourism programmes,” says professor Kaye Chon, dean of Hong Kong Polytechnic University’s School of Hotel and Tourism Management. “Dr Lui has also played a pivotal role in facilitating our efforts in raising hotel management standards in mainland China. As academics, we constantly seek to explore new frontiers, new endeavours and to pursue research excellence.”

One of Lui’s most prominent philanthropic roles is as a long-time patron of HKU. Its law library – which holds Asia’s most complete record of United Nations materials – has been named after him since 1997, the tense year that Hong Kong was handed over from British to Chinese rule.

When the library was moved to the HKU’s new Centennial Campus in 2012, it was dedicated to Lui once again. “His name will be associated with one of the finest law libraries in the world,”  professor Johannes Chan, dean of HKU's law faculty, said at the 2012 ceremony. “The law library is the cradle of the guardians of our rule of law.”


Lui usually uses "Dr" before his name, in a nod to the honorary doctorates that universities have bestowed on him. But he is actually a high-school drop-out; and while he now engages in rarefied hobbies like writing Chinese calligraphy, he is basically self-taught.

Lui Che-woo was born on August 9, 1929 in Jiangmen, which is roughly between Macau and Guangzhou in Guangdong Province (still known at that time as Canton). Like many Cantonese of that generation, his family escaped the turmoil and poverty of the mainland and came to Hong Kong.

“I was four years old when we made the voyage by boat,” he says. “I was with my mother and father and grandmother. I remember seeing Hong Kong for the first time from that boat. There were so many lights. It was so beautiful.”

Lui was the eldest of six children – the sole big brother, with five younger sisters he helped to support.

“The Japanese came to Hong Kong when I was in Form One,” he says, referring to the military invasion on Christmas Day, 1941. “We were scared. We could hear the bombs whizzing and banging. We could see the Japanese soldiers outside with their long guns. First they took Kowloon, where we lived. Then they crossed the water and took Hong Kong Island.”

His father’s business suffered, as most local enterprises did. So the boy started working and eventually left school.

“I was 13 and I wanted to do business, too. It was really just child’s play – selling peanuts and candy on the street – but it was my start,” he says. The teen looked at the long queues of people waiting for permits to leave Hong Kong and saw a business opportunity in bringing food to those hungry lines. “If I sold them things to eat, then I would eat, too,” he said. “I just needed my two meals a day.”

By the time World War II ended in 1945, it seemed too late for him to return to full-time education. “I went to evening classes,” he says. “Thank God I learned a few words of English. But I never really finished school.” He attributes his own lack of formal schooling to his focus on educational philanthropy today.

His first real job was as the stock-keeper in a car parts shop.  Eventually, he bought his boss’s company – putting down half in cash and paying the rest in installments – and learned that the best way to make money was to import parts from overseas.

His first big business deal was the modern equivalent of turning swords into ploughshares – Lui found a way of turning surplus American military equipment into hardware for helping Hong Kong, which was struggling to construct enough decent housing for the quickly rising postwar population.

“There was a stroke of good luck – a Japanese connection took me to Okinawa, where the United States had lots of equipment leftover from the Korean War,” he says. “This was good equipment for digging quarries and filling in soil for reclamation. And the US Army sold it to me for cheap.”

His business broadened out to providing the vast amounts of construction materials Hong Kong needed, whether it was concrete for roads or water pipes for houses and businesses.

At about this time, he also married and had five children – three girls and two boys.

“I was quite strict with my kids from the beginning,” Lui says. “There are so many bad influences in Hong Kong. I spent much of their childhood working. But on Sundays, I’d try to take them swimming or hiking, so they wouldn’t be running around the streets.”

Lui made sure that his children had the education that he did not. His older son, Francis Lui, who is now a 58-year-old executive director of the Galaxy Entertainment Group, got both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of California at Berkeley.

However, he was not brought up like a typical boss’s son. According to a Forbes Asia special report, when Francis Lui finished his master’s in 1979, he returned to Hong Kong to work at his father’s company as a “low-level assistant engineer” who ate rice box lunches and took the bus like everyone else.

“Francis is a good boy,” Lui Che-woo said. “He knew it was hard on me, so he came back right away after school – he didn’t even attend graduation. He had his certificates sent to Hong Kong.”


Lui’s offices are what one would expect of a top businessman  – there are gleaming wood panels, a carpeted spiral staircase, a vast conference table and an oil portrait of a younger Lui in a tux. In a corner sits a stack of materials: Chinese-language Forbes magazines with Lui on the cover and a 400-page self-published bilingual biography called “Che-woo Lui: Philosophy of an Ordinary Life.”

He had been in meetings, photo shoots and interviews all day – and now he was hungry.  He and his staff filed down to K Wah’s car park, where he took his choice of Rolls-Royce, Bentley or Mercedes-Benz. (Today, he chose the Benz). He invited his staff, who followed in a white mini-van.

A man with Lui's net worth could take a helicopter to his vast casino empire in Macau for an opulent lunch every day without making a dent in his budget.  But Lui says he only goes to Macau nowadays if he has reason to be there.

Personally, he prefers the Hong Kong Old Restaurant in the basement of the mid-priced Newton Hotel in the Fortress Hill area. He’s clearly a regular and the staff don’t seem particularly fussed about serving a billionaire – in fact, Lui was happy to hobble over to a corner table before the waiter pointed out they had a private room free.

He and his staff ate family-style, sharing vegetarian rolls, chilled pigeon in Chinese wine, fried fish and a big bowl of homemade chicken soup – Chinese comfort food. With his personal assistant, he had the sort of in-depth discussion that only Hongkongers can have over the state of the city’s wonton shops (verdict: high rents have doomed them).

He skipped wine and dessert – and he hesitated with his chopsticks before taking a piece of stewed pork layered with fat. “I’ve gained weight,” he joked with his assistant.

“You should play more golf,” she shot back.

She showed him photos on her cellphone, and he talked about his
12 grandchildren.  

Lui, who's still chairman of Galaxy Entertainment Group, says he had no intention of slowing down, even though he turns 85 in August. However, as Francis Lui takes over the day-to-day running of the business, Lui Che-woo is turning more of his focus on philanthropy.

When asked about his support of education, Lui seems more interested in talking about his grass-roots charity work than his high-profile university donations.

“Of course, you have to give to universities,” he says. “But the root of the issue lies before that. If you don’t have good primary and middle schools, what’s the point of universities?

Lui announced earlier this year that, through Galaxy, he hopes to donate more to local schools on the mainland.

“In Kunming, I saw a woman carrying her son on the edge of a dangerous road,” he says. “They were so poor ... they didn’t even have enough clothes. This area was so backward – and, with no education, they would never get out of their rut. They didn’t ask me for money, and I won’t get much credit for giving it. I gave it from my heart.”

When Lui came to Hong Kong in the 1930s there was only one university – the elite, English-medium University of Hong Kong. Now, there seven universities and a much more literate public. However, there are upsides and downsides with every development – and Lui has spoken openly to the media before about what he sees as a major gap in the city’s labour force.

“Hongkongers have high expectations in terms of education,” Lui says. “Hongkongers don’t want to do lower-level work, say, in construction or hospitality. So the Hong Kong government has a challenge – because every society needs high-, middle-, and lower-level workers. There is a reason there are so many Philippine, Indonesian and Indian workers here – because we need the workers.”

He is also critical of both Hong Kong’s exam-focused education system, as well as what he calls “new ways of teaching.”

“The government spends so much money on education; they should give some money to moral education,” he says. “So parents know that their kids will be on the right path.”

Friday, October 10, 2014

My freelance stories: When it rains, it pours

Such is the life of a freelancer. I wrote and wrote and wrote all summer. I wrote all September. Barely anything came out -- and, as a consequence, barely any money came in either.

Then suddenly today, October 9, six of my articles were published at the same time. So here they are.

Photograph by Jerome Favre, courtesy of the artist and Pearl Lam Galleries

For The International New York Times, I interviewed Gonkar Gyatso, a Tibetan artist now showing at Pearl Lam Galleries. His stuff is pretty interesting - he uses pop culture materials (for example, kids' stickers) to render Buddhist images. The story is online here. It's also in this morning's paper.


I have three lengthy features for The Peak, a glossy run by The SCMP. They don't post their stories online, so if you want to read them, you have to buy the magazine. I got my own copies from Dymocks this morning.

One is on venture philanthropy, a cross between venture capitalism and charity work. I didn't know much about this until I started researching the story a couple of months ago, but there are teams of charity-workers at private banks whose job it is to hook up rich clients with needy causes. I spoke to global giants like HSBC and UBS, as well as more boutique companies like Lombard Odier and LGT Venture Philanthropy, (loosely tied to the firm formerly known as The Liechtenstein Global Trust)

Also in The Peak is an interview with Michelle Ong, the head of the First Initiative Foundation, who works with stars like the pianist Lang Lang and the soprano Renee Fleming to fund cultural and education projects in Hong Kong. Her latest event was the Hong Kong premiere of Ann Hui's new film "The Golden Era."

Finally there's a profile of the local artist Tsang Kin-wah, whom I've been following for years. 

 Courtesy West Kowloon Cultural District Authority.

All writers have their favorite stories -- and I found this one the most fun to do. Magazines like The Peak usually focus on the rich, so visiting Tsang in his humble one-room studio/home in Fotan was a breath of fresh air. He's the guy who will be representing Hong Kong at the next Venice Biennale. 

Writers don't generally get to write our own headlines, so it's nice when a good one comes along. The Peak's headline for the Tsang story was "The Sacred and The Profane," which I love. Plus, they let me know use the f-word, which the Times does not!


I've begun a fledging culture column for Harbour Times, a niche publication that mostly runs policy news for government / diplomatic / consular types, plus certain segments of the business commnity concerned with local politics. Their stuff is usually pretty heavy. So I met with their editor in August about inserting something lighter and more cultural.  After all, government types must do something for fun. (Or, at the very least, even the most philistine must go out for dinner). And both local and foreign governments fund interesting events in town.

The latest Harbour Times issue -- out today, probably available at the Bookazine newsstand tomorrow -- is strong, due to all the Occupy Central coverage. 

This issue, I wrote about Hong Kong's love of K-pop and the  Festive Korea, which runs through November. Expats mostly hear about festivals like Le French May, but Festive Korea draws in hundreds of thousands of Hong Kongers a year. 

 Photo: Rowley Leigh outside the new resaturant. Swire Hotels.

Then there's a short article (I usually call these  "briefs") on the number of British chefs opening restaurants in town. Rowley Leigh, the Financial Times food writer, is helping out at The Continental, opening soon in Pacific Place. And, as everyone already knows, Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver have recently opened.