How a gangster became a cop and now collects amazing stories about the life of the New York mafia

Armed with an iPhone, a microphone and connections to former cops and criminals, Michael Moy aims to capture a piece of New York's forgotten history. CNN.

My YouTube channel is called Chinatown Gang Stories, which he launched six months ago. The channel features long interviews with former gangsters. They talk about their lives as members of the youth gangs that terrorized New York's Chinatowns in the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s.

The videos lack professional lighting and sound quality. But their shortcomings are a reminder that the canal is the project of an amateur historian trying to capture a forgotten history with limited means.

From thug to cop

Moy, 53, is not a journalist or videographer. But he has a unique opportunity to collect these stories - as an ex-cop and ex-gang member.

In retirement, Moy used his experience on both sides of the law to convince former mobsters to come forward on camera. So that they don't take their stories with them to the grave. Its purpose is to record the oral history of these gangs. In general, it will give an accurate picture of the era and will explain to future generations the dangers and pitfalls of bandit life.

“My mission is to preserve history,” Moi said, “and perhaps help someone along the way.”

Living in fear

Mine was born in 1969 and spent the first five years in a small apartment on East Broadway, within walking distance of the historic heart of Manhattan's Chinatown. Eleven members of his family were crowded into an apartment on the top floor of a six-story building, where there were only four beds. Most slept on bamboo mattresses on the ground, from where they could hear the chaos of the Chinatown gangs outside.

In 1972, when Moyu was three years old, there were at least four shootings in his area.

Two cases occurred in July and August. Two more shootings, one in March and another in November, took place in theaters on East Broadway. Each of them was a stone's throw from Moya's apartment.

My parents feared for the safety of their son. The violence was a concern. But they were also concerned about reports that older teens were forcing younger children to join gangs by force. So when Moyu was 5, the family moved to Brooklyn and enrolled him in a school.

“I didn’t understand then how dangerous and powerful gangs are and how they affect society,” Moy says.

Banditry has plagued Chinatown periodically since the 1890s, when Chinese-American communities called tongs, formed to support immigrants from China through legal and illegal means, went to war over control of the area's illicit economy - opium dens, gambling parlors, and prostitution.

Two tongs, "On Leong" and "Hip Sing", fought a fierce battle for territory and profit. The conflict eventually subsided, but the tongs themselves never disappeared. Their leaders continued to accumulate power and prestige in society through legal and illegal enterprises.

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By the time the Moya family moved to Brooklyn, the Tongs had outsourced the dirty work of racketeering and protection to youth gangs. Such a scheme provided the Tong with a semblance of legitimacy and some protection from criminal prosecution. Even if everyone knew the truth about who was in charge here.

By 1973, there were about six teenage gangs in Chinatown, which included almost 200 people.

Teenagers and young people were given weapons and roamed the streets as executors of orders. Weapons and uncontrolled power ended up in the hands of impressionable teenagers. The ensuing increase in violence was inevitable.

“The whole society was seized with fear of these gangs. But they didn't talk about it publicly,” Moy says.

Moving to Brooklyn allowed Moi to step back a bit from danger. However, as Moi got older, he felt excluded from the Chinese American community, especially at school. He was one of the few Asian students. And they found fault with him because he looked different.

“It was pretty traumatic. I went through a lot of bullying,” Moy said.

Mine felt like he had nowhere to turn. Teachers either didn't understand the extent of bullying or didn't want to deal with it. His parents couldn't help either. They worked constantly and were never at home. At school in Brooklyn, Moy had only one good friend. They studied together, and after school they played video games or billiards in a smoky and dirty billiard room.

Dai-ma, a recruiter for a Chinese gang, saw Moi (at that time a short, thin 16-year-old teenager) and immediately realized that he was vulnerable. And then one day, when Moy was walking to the billiard room, a dai-ma approached him, offering him the protection, respect and fellowship that he so craved.

Moyu was to spend the next nine years as part of a Chinese-American gang.

The decision to change the path

Initially, being a member of a gang gave him the protection he was looking for and the close-knit community he lacked. The bullies who had once mocked Moy no longer wanted to have anything to do with him. According to him, life has become more exciting and full of adventures.

“It was a real boost,” Moy says. “It gave me confidence. It gave me a sense of power.”

However, doubts gradually crept into my soul. The friends were killed or sent to prison, caught in the net of federal investigators and prosecutors who hunted down Chinese organized crime using the same tools that helped them take down the Italian mafia.

With each friend killed or imprisoned, Moy became more and more concerned about his future.

But the story of Stephen McDonald, an NYPD officer, was the main impetus for change. While patrolling Central Park in 1986, McDonald was shot three times by a 15-year-old teenager. He remained paralyzed from the neck down. Doctors believed that he would live no more than five years.

Just a few months later, MacDonald publicly forgave the teenager who nearly killed him. The officer became a symbol of compassion and mercy, inspiring New Yorkers until his death in 2017.

Moy read in a newspaper article that McDonald considered the teenager who shot him "a product of his (teenager's) environment." Moy had never heard the phrase before, and it evoked in him a deep, uneasy feeling of introspection.

“Then I was a young guy. I didn't know what that meant, Moy says. – But I delved into every word and tried to understand what he meant. Then I looked at myself. Am I a product of my environment?”

Age and wisdom, combined with Macdonald's example, fueled my sense of guilt for my actions. The more he thought about his future, the more he pulled away from the daily life of his gang.

“His words just rang in my ears. Something whispered in my ear, “You are a product of your environment. You need to get out,” Moy said.

In January 1989, inspired by the idea of ​​changing the direction of his life, Moy passed the NYPD entrance exam. According to him, after that he continued to participate in the gang, although he "took a few steps back." And in the mid-1990s, he was invited to the police academy.

When he graduated from the academy and left the area to become a police officer, he didn't tell anyone in the gang where he was going. He simply disappeared from the underworld, breaking ties with his past.

'Why not us?'

Mine was assigned to patrol the same streets he roamed as a gangster in Brooklyn's Chinatown, where his gang had moved from Manhattan. According to Moy, at first he was afraid that his former accomplices would recognize him. But the first day of work calmed him down. Mine walked past some gangsters who knew him, but his presence was silently acknowledged.

“It reduced my fears, my anxiety,” Moy said.

My career with the NYPD spanned nearly a quarter of a century. He spent nine years as an officer and 16 years as a detective. For most of the years, he worked at a station in south Brooklyn. The idea that became Moya's YouTube channel began to take shape towards the end of his career, when he started watching videos of other former New York gangsters.

He was surprised that former members of other New York gangs spoke so freely about their experiences in the 1970s and 1980s. There were former Italian gangsters, Hispanic gangsters and black organized crime members, but no Asians. Mine thought to himself, “Why not us?”.

“There is a lot of misinformation out there. And not a single person from that era — not a single Chinatown gang member in New York from that era — ever came out and talked about his experience. Nobody at all,” Moy said.

The impetus for the start of the project was a tragic reminder of their own mortality. My and several of his colleagues were the first rescuers during the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York. Years later, they developed illnesses related to this tragedy. Moi's illnesses, which were identified through monitoring by the World Trade Center Health Program, did not pose an immediate threat to life. But some of his friends died of cancer.

“Then I started thinking: “If I don’t do it now, when?” Moy recalls.

Moy took his first interview the following year, while still in the police force. At first he thought he was using it to supplement his memoirs. Gradually, over several years, he collected hundreds of hours of interviews. Moy estimates that he spent over $100 on the project, traveling the world to interview former Asian or Asian American gang members.

Moya's career with the NYPD ended in 2021

He resigned from the police force after filing a formal complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and a lawsuit against the City of New York, alleging that a small group of co-workers were racist. Moy claimed that he was racially discriminated against and then subjected to reprisals after he spoke out.

At the time, the NYPD told local media that they "take allegations of this kind seriously and do not tolerate discrimination of any kind." Authorities did not respond to an email from CNN asking for comment. The lawsuit is still ongoing.

Retirement from the police allowed Moya to rekindle long-standing friendships that he had been forced to put aside for years due to police regulations on dealing with convicted felons.

According to Moy, none of those with whom he communicates is a repeat offender. They trust his guidance as a former police officer. He explains to them issues like dual liability and statute of limitations, he said.

Retirement also gave Moyu more time to invest in his historic project. On June 2, Moy launched Chinatown Gang Stories on the Internet. And in just over six months, the channel gained more than 3 subscribers and 100 views.

With such rapid growth, Moi expected the comment section of his videos to be filled with the rage and racism often found online. However, so far the criticism has mostly been about the sound quality. Moy jokes that he learns from his mistakes based on YouTube comments.

“I have no idea what I'm doing. I just hope the interviews get better over time and the sound quality gets better,” Moy said.

Moy doesn't know where Chinatown Gang Story will go next, even though a documentary series is being made about him and some of the characters. According to him, he would like to delve deeper into the history of some gangsters. And eventually bring these stories and those who tell them together, perhaps in a group conversation.