In a neighbourhood nicknamed “airport” for all the Chinese newcomers it attracts, Mao Hou Chang had fast become a fixture on the sidewalks of Gerrard Street East, building his new life one orange at a time.
He could be found there most days, pointing customers to the best fruit in his bins in front of the Fu Yao Supermarket in Toronto's East Chinatown. Thursday evening was no different, until just after dark. In the place where he made his modest living, Mr. Mao wound up dead in a blast of gunfire meant for someone else. A stray bullet from a shootout in the street nearby hit him in the torso.
The death of 47-year-old Mr. Mao, the second killing of an innocent bystander in less than a week, sent a fresh wave of exasperation across Toronto, whose stone-faced mayor, David Miller, visited merchants before renewing his call for a federal handgun ban. It also echoed the Boxing Day, 2005, death of Jane Creba, a 15-year-old caught in a daytime shootout between gang members as thousands of shoppers clogged downtown Yonge Street.
Yesterday, as Mr. Mao's killer remained unknown and police made their presence felt on foot, in cruisers and on horseback, his community stumbled back to work amid a swirl of bitter winds and tough questions: Who did this? How could they? Why him?
“I think he had just come down in the front to take a look only” when the shots rang out, said William Chui, who owns a bookshop near the grocery store. “He was shot down without any purpose.”
The purpose of Mr. Mao's move to Canada two years ago was, by all accounts, a familiar one: to build a better life for his family. His 23-year-old son and 18-year-old daughter had joined him in Toronto, while his wife stayed behind in Fuzhou, a city of 2.6 million and capital of Fujian province on China's southeast coast.
His many customers knew him simply as “Mr. Mao,” a quiet and likeable man with a helpful streak running through his hard work ethic.
“He's kind,” said Trinh Huynh, a neighbourhood resident for whom Mr. Mao would measure out lettuce into a plastic bag. “He's a very hard worker, even cold time he'd work outside,” she said.
“We're all upset,” said Mr. B. Kong, who owns a flower shop just east of the grocery and sent a bouquet to the store just before noon yesterday, when police gave it the go-ahead to reopen.
“It's never happened like this; this is a safe area,” said Mr. Kong, who moved to Toronto from Hong Kong 15 years ago. “That kind of people, they come from another area,” he said, referring to the gunmen.
Like many Toronto neighbourhoods, East Chinatown has evolved markedly in the 30 years since Mr. Chui opened his bookstore, but not in a way that would explain Thursday's brazen gunfight, he said.
The Chinese population has shrunk to “two small clubs,” mainly new arrivals to Canada and elderly immigrants who find city living convenient. Gone, Mr. Chui said, are the working families who have fled to suburban Markham, Richmond Hill, Scarborough and Newmarket.
As East Chinatown has shrunk, the residential streets around it have become increasingly gentrified as young professionals move in and start families.
“Everybody's doing something to improve the neighbourhood,” said Denise McCartney, as she pointed out a new garden here, an addition there.
At the same time, rough edges remain. Yesterday, in an alley behind the supermarket, three young people ducked into a parking garage to huddle around a lighter with pipes held to their mouths, and the notorious Don Jail looms at Gerrard Street and Broadview Avenue. Last October, a man who was arrested after Ms. Creba's death was shot dead near the jail after visiting an inmate on a Sunday afternoon.
Whatever the outcome of Thursday's violence, Mr. Mao will be missed by those who had come to know him.
Dale Cheung, who as president of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce spent much of his day trying to calm the frayed nerves of merchants, spent time with him last week, and again on Thursday, just before he was killed.
In the first instance, Mr. Cheung enlisted Mr. Mao's help in hanging 40 red pennants from poles along Gerrard Street to mark Chinese New Year on Feb. 7.
“Because he's tall guy, he was good for helping me hang the banners,” Mr. Cheung said, using the present tense to describe his deceased friend, as the newly bereaved often do. “He said, ‘Okay, no problem,' ” and spent two hours doing the work for no charge.”
As evening fell on Thursday night, Mr. Cheung stopped off at the supermarket to buy some fruit. “He chose some oranges for me,” he said. “He told me the oranges are very good, very sweet.”
With that, Mr. Cheung walked down Gerrard Street to his office. He didn't hear the shots. “I didn't know until this morning,” he said. “I'm not happy to hear this news.”
With a report from Cassandra Drudi
