When I first moved to Phoenix, I spent a lot of time driving up and down Central Avenue. Whenever I had the chance, I would head toward South Mountain. That part of the city reminded me a lot of my old neighborhood in Tucson.
As I explored South Phoenix, I visited the shops along the avenue, ate at family-owned restaurants, and studied at what was, at the time, the only coffee shop in the area.
But there was one building I could never quite figure out. I wasn’t sure if it was open, closed or abandoned. The only clue to what it held inside was a weathered sign that read “Phoenix Produce Co.” That mystery lingered — until I came across the story featured in this edition of the newsletter.
This week, I spoke with Reia Li, a recent addition to The Republic’s newsroom who focuses on writing service journalism, data-driven stories and reporting on trends as the Arizona Life reporter. She shared a bit about her experience reporting on this story, how she first came across the Hom family and the importance of writing about the missing chapters in our collective community history.
With that, here’s what Reia had to say.
Rich history of early Chinese immigrants in AZ
Your story highlights the lesser-known history of the Chinese community in Phoenix. You devote a significant portion to discussing how migrant Chinese workers who settled in the city contributed to its growth. Why did you feel it was important to provide this historical context for our readers?
Reia: My own family comes from a very different immigration history than the Hom family — my father came here from China in the 1990s. Growing up a mixed Chinese American in Tucson, where the Asian population is very small, I always felt like an aberration. When I first learned about the century-long history of Chinese people there for a story I wrote for Arizona Luminaria, I was shocked. And then I started wondering: Why had no one ever talked about the rich history of early Chinese immigrants in Arizona?
Part of the reason, I believe now, is that it doesn’t fit the neat narratives we have about the state. They were not “pioneers” or agents of U.S. empire in the same way that Anglo settlers were. They also weren’t native here, and their numbers were small relative to the entire population.
To sum it up: given that Asian Americans are often seen as perpetual foreigners, I wanted to help shift the narrative, ever so slightly, by showing their long history and connection to Phoenix, whether that’s the Chinese community I wrote about, or Japanese American flower growers or Filipino migrant workers (so many stories to write!).
Something that I was, and still am, nervous about, though, is that reclaiming a spot in Phoenix’s history means participating in the violent erasure and dispossession of Native people here. Ultimately, this city was built on land stolen from the Akimel O’odham, Xalychidom Piipaash and other Native nations.
My hope is that writing about the histories of the Chinese American community can serve as a window to ask some critical questions about the history of our state. How does it change our understanding of Phoenix, and of Arizona, if we think about its history from their perspective?
Connecting with the last noodlemaker
You profiled Samuel Hom and his family, who have owned a business and mastered the art of noodlemaking for more than 50 years. His story mirrors the evolution of Phoenix, as the city transformed from the post-World War II era into the vast desert metropolis it is today. How did you first hear about the Hom family?
Reia: I inherited this story from a former reporter at The Republic, Priscilla Totiyapungprasert. She’s a whiz at sniffing out sources and she’d stumbled across a podcast on Facebook called Arizona History Happy Hour, hosted by historian Marshall Shore. Tony Ce, who I interviewed in the story, was the guest on the show and he talked about some of the history that I go over in the article, like the two different Chinatowns. He also mentioned a tantalizing tidbit: that there was somebody named Sam who was still making noodles. He mentioned the major cross streets of Sam’s building.
That’s all I had to go on — I had no idea if Sam was still alive. The podcast was from 2021. So I headed out to check. I found what I thought was the building, on Central and Lincoln and just walked in. Jenny Hom, Sam’s daughter, was standing at the counter, reading that day’s edition of The Arizona Republic.
As soon as I saw that, I had a gut feeling that the story would work out. And it did!
The legacy
A major theme in your story is the idea of legacy. You explain that Hom is proud of the work his family has accomplished since he arrived in the country, particularly because they no longer struggle for food or money. However, the legacy of Phoenix Produce isn’t just the Hom family’s — it’s also woven into the broader history of the Asian American community in the Valley. How will this legacy, and the memories tied to it, be preserved?
Reia: I wish I had the answer to that question. But unfortunately, I think that people of Sam and Jenny’s generation are just now realizing that younger folks like me are hungry for stories of how they built a life for themselves in the desert. And as Evangeline Song, who grew up in her parents’ grocery store, pointed out to me, “We were too busy to take photos.”
There have been various efforts over the years to record this history. A lot of interesting records are contained in a book about the Phoenix Chinese community called Gold Mountain in the Desert. I relied on it a lot while researching this story.
There are also hundreds of archival photos housed at The Arizona Science Center that are in the process of being organized.
In Tucson, artist and activist Feng-Feng Yeh is doing really cool work with her Chinese Chorizo Project, which highlights a fusion food that is the legacy of Chinese grocers serving their mostly Hispanic/Latino customers. And for my senior anthropology thesis, I made this websitewith pictures and stories of Tucson’s Chinese community.
So basically, efforts to preserve this history are up to us, the young generation. But outside of formal records, the legacy of the early Chinese community lives on in the memories of the families and in the connections that they built with their neighbors.
Get tickets to our exclusive dinner with Kid Sister
Before we head out, I want to tell you about an exclusive subscriber-only event that our food and dining team is hosting in collaboration with Phoenix restaurant Kid Sister . Limited to just 30 attendees, this dining experience includes small bites, a family-style dinner, dessert and a beverage — all chef-selected and served in Kid Sister’s intimate dining room, a space that lends itself to conversation and camaraderie.
Click here to learn more and register for the event.