calm exterior, the senator’s penetrating grey eyes were measuring everything in his vision. Next to him, Peter Winthrop also calculated the possibilities of the scenario. While Lee Chang was playing the role of gracious host, all sides knew it was a wad of cash in a brown envelope that was the main motivation behind the welcoming committee.
The senator looked around at the afternoon sky and spoke. “It would be great if we could get a tour and pick our spots for filming.”
“Of course, Senator. This way please.”
Lee Chang sugarcoated the tour of the facilities as he walked, the live performance of a rehearsal perfected earlier in the day. He kept his visitors moving, answering the senator’s questions as the cameraman took notes and the entourage lugged equipment and whispered among themselves.
“Chang Industries is truly a global success story,” Lee Chang said, his hands sweeping in a grand gesture away from his body. “Our workers are the epitome of the success of globalization. The standard of living and wages we supply our workers will deliver them and their families from the poverty of some of the poorest countries in the region.” Lee paused for effect. “And, as you all know, everything produced here on Saipan is officially made in the U.S.A.”
“Everyone wins,” the senator said aloud.
“Everyone wins,” Lee Chang repeated.
“Could you tell us more about your employees?” Peter asked, knowing the response before it was given.
“Our girls are very well cared for,” Lee said. “We run the cleanest facility on the island. As you are about to see.”
Lee Chang briefly glanced around the property for his missing guard and then continued his tour. “There are three main buildings here at Chang Industries, in addition to several smaller structures where we store chemicals, tools, excess material. The building on the left houses an infirmary and an office on the first floor. My personal residence is above the infirmary on the top two floors. My home is not very large, but it is more than adequate for my simple tastes. The building in the middle is the workshop floor. Two warehouses are located in the back of the workshop at the rear of the building. On a busy day we have over a hundred workers in here, making everything from winter parkas to khaki shorts.”
As the group approached the front doors of the workshop floor, Lee Chang continued. “The large building to the right is the seamstresses’ living quarters, which I will show you momentarily.”
The cameraman asked the entourage to hold their position in front of the building. He snapped several still frame shots and filmed a minute of footage with the senator and his chief-of-staff surrounded by Lee Chang, Peter Winthrop, and the large Chang Industries employee.
Lee Chang led the smile-brigade until the cameraman dutifully said, “cut.” The light on the video camera clicked off, and Lee Chang forged ahead. “As I mentioned, the building we are about to enter is the main floor of the manufacturing facility. Twenty-five thousand square feet of efficiency.”
The tour of Chang Industries took just over two hours. They filmed inside the main doors to the facilities and next to the entrance to a scrubbed and sterilized warehouse. Long tables stretched from one end of the work floor to the other, the hard benches made from mismatched planks of wood tidily tucked under the tables, out of sight. Flower bouquets stood at the end of each row of workbenches.
“Can we film in the seamstresses’ quarters?” the senator asked.
“Of course. Of course,” Lee Chang answered.
The crowd walked through the double doors of the seamstresses’ quarters, past a pile of neatly stacked shoes and slippers near the entrance. Lee Chang led them to the first room on the right. The movie set was built and waiting for the camera.
“This room is typical of the housing here at Chang Industries. Each worker has her own bed, TV, air conditioning, and desk. There is a shared bathroom at the end of the hall that was remodeled last summer.”
Peter took his turn giving orders. “Film this room. Be sure to get the TV and the air-conditioning.” He turned toward the senator and winked. “This room is better than most college dorms, and we pay twenty grand a year for our kids to have that privilege.”
The camera crew set their equipment in the hall and filmed directly into the room. “Where are the workers now?” the cameraman asked, earning him a scowl from the senator.
“I arranged for the workers to have the afternoon off in the city. I thought it would expedite your filming efforts.”
The cameraman knew he was being lied to. What he didn’t know was that upstairs, packed eight to a room, a hundred seamstresses from a dozen Southeast Asian countries were huddled behind locked doors. Sweating through another tropical afternoon, they took turns rubbing each other’s backs, putting hand lotion on their calloused knuckles, nursing various ailments that came with carpal tunnel syndrome and the occasional on-the-job beating. They didn’t know who their visitors were, or why they had spent most of the day cleaning a hole-in-the- wall sweatshop. But they would know when their visitors left. They would be back at their machines before the front gate closed.
Filming concluded with shots on a knoll behind the main manufacturing area, the slight elevation allowing the camera to focus over the barbed wire fence for an unobstructed view of a brilliant sunset over the waters of the Pacific. With the proper angle, proper lighting, and proper focus, the cameraman followed his orders to perfection. The fifteen thousand dollars he and his men had received for immortalizing lies in the lens of his camera wouldn’t weigh on his conscience. He didn’t have one. Fifteen grand for eighteen hours in a plane, a few hours of camera work, and two days in the sun. It was easy money.
The senator’s filming entourage milled about near the main gate, whispers floating between them. Lee Chang eyed the group as he walked past. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to join you and the senator for dinner this evening, Peter,” Lee said flatly, approaching Peter from the side. “I have some urgent business that needs my attention.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Peter replied. “Maybe you and I can get together on my way back from Hong Kong next week?”
“It’s possible. I have some business trips planned, but if you let me know your schedule, I’ll see what I can do,” Lee Chang answered. “Meanwhile, I’ve taken the liberty of reserving your favorite table at The Palm. I assume that is acceptable for you and the senator.”
“That’s fine. Thank you for the trouble.”
“No trouble at all. And if you like, Chow Ying can drive you over and see to it that you make it back to the hotel safely,” Lee Chang offered, gesturing toward the large Chinese man who hadn’t strayed far since their arrival. “He’s very reliable. And not only does he drive but he’s big enough to keep you out of trouble, should you find any,” he added with a laugh.
The senator looked at his all-star aide. “Scott, take the night off.”
The senator’s chief-of-staff looked around. In Washington, he would have protested for the opportunity to stay awake for another twenty-four hours in the name of career advancement. But looking around, he saw no one to impress. And he couldn’t imagine any restaurant on the island with a who’s who reservation list.
“Yes, sir. I’ll grab a beer in the hotel bar and hit the hay. Getting up early to go waterskiing tomorrow.”
The senator rubbed his hands together. “Well, then, that’s settled.”
Ten minutes later, with the white van packed, Lee Chang, Peter Winthrop, and Senator Day waved the senator’s public relations filming entourage goodnight.
As the van pulled away in a small cloud of dust, the senator inspected the main guard booth and the now present guard. Lee Chang took Peter by the arm and stepped away. The sweatshop boss dropped his voice to a whisper and looked over Peter’s shoulder as he spoke, “Interested in the usual companionship?”
Peter, in turn, looked over at the senator who looked back and nodded in approval to the conversation he couldn’t hear but fully understood. “Is Wei Ling available?” Peter asked as if ordering his favorite wine from the menu.
“Yes, of course. Wei is available. Shall I find a companion for the senator as well?”
“Yes, the senator would enjoy some company. Someone with a good command of English. I don’t think he wants to spend the evening playing charades,” Peter responded.
“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Lee Chang smiled, nodded, and barked at Chow Ying in Chinese. The large subordinate walked across the front lot of Chang Industries, down the side of the main building, and vanished into
