The Ripple Effect of Forgiveness

by Kathryn van der Pol

Years ago, I wrote a story about a young man who was brutally murdered. He was killed before I was born, but when I stumbled upon his story and that of his parents, it made such an impact on me that I began doing further research, my husband might say obsessive research.

The murder happened in Philadelphia, so I interviewed reporters, obtained court records, found old newspaper reports, and ended up travelling to Philadelphia to interview the murdered man's first cousin, who had become a city councilman. He even took Sybren and me out to dinner.

Then I conversed briefly with one of the eleven murderers.

This journey began by reading two pages in a book from my church library.

At the time, I was taking classes at a three-day conference sponsored by the Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard. My research became the product of my first serious attempt at narrative journalism.

I was teaching journalism to my students, so I justified my obsession in this case by saying, "I am leading my students by example." The newspaper at St. John's School had over fifty students on staff at the time of my tenure. That is a high percentage for a high school of just 450 students.

I encouraged my students to dig deep, search for truth, and share multiple perspectives. Not surprisingly, there were adult conversations about how I should censor these students. Censorship in a private school is quite legal, but I could not justify it. Encouraging curiosity, teaching students to honor the truth, to exercise the First Amendment, to do proper research, to write clearly, succinctly, and grammatically mattered much more to me. My mission was to uphold the First Amendment, to instill high standards of journalistic integrity, to build their intestinal fortitude, and to armor them to face the real world of issues and problems needing sunlight. I am proud to say that the newspaper received too many national awards to list and produced multiple college editors and professional journalists.

You can tell I am proud of my students.

But I digress.

I used the story I am about to tell you as a teaching tool to help my students. I never actually submitted it for publication. Some of the things I learned were so personal, so private that I held back. One day, I will share those things, too. But today, I am going to share part of this story.

Here is the short version.

The name of the murdered man is In Ho Oh. The year is 1958.

In Ho Oh was one of many first-generation Korean Christians in the United States. His uncle had founded the Korean Christian Church in Philadelphia.

In Ho Oh had won a full-ride scholarship as a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania to study political science.

His parents were still in Korea and had sacrificed everything for their son’s education. His father, a devout Christian, led the resistance against the Japanese occupation while his uncle was held prisoner. They were originally from North Korea, which had been home to a large community of Christians until the Communists drove them out. The Communists destroyed their churches and killed their pastors. Sound familiar? They left with nothing but their lives and traveled on foot into South Korea. As Christians, they wanted their son to become a “Christian statesman.”  The best place in the world to study and become that was the United States.

And that was why In Ho Oh was here.

He was murdered by a group of young men for 35-cents.

It happened in a way no one could have foreseen. On a late Friday afternoon, In Ho Oh, who lived downtown, walked from his uncle's apartment to drop a letter in the mailbox to his parents. He lived near Hamilton and 36th Street.

Douglas MacArthur Clark, 15, had been itching to go to the Friday night church dance at St. Andrew's. Upset because he did not have the 35-cent admission, and the doorman, Herman Rice, the future founder of the drug rehab program, Mantua Against Drugs, would not let him in.

Clark saw opportunity in a short Asian man with thick glasses dressed neatly in blue trousers and a white pressed shirt. He "rolled" him, that is, tripped and grabbed him. In Ho Oh put up a resistance, and Clark shouted for help.

Within minutes, ten African American boys aged 15 to 19 punched and kicked In Ho Oh to death. One used a soda pop bottle, another a blackjack. Witnesses to the crime later said they heard only thuds, no screams.

When one of the boys got his wallet, he shouted, "I've got his wallet. There's no money in it!"

Then the boys split.

In Ho Oh was crumpled on the sidewalk, his spectacles in the street. He was still breathing. He died within minutes of his arrival at the hospital. Police would find his research paper-- blood splattered--30 feet from the body.

The death of a foreign student in Philadelphia made international news. The citizens were outraged and ashamed by the senseless violence. Public pressure compelled the courts to have all eleven teenagers tried as adults. The judge, Sydney Hoffman, told the youths, "Your crimes deny you the right to be tried by our Juvenile Court. The nature and pattern of your crime was adult, and you must be expected to be tried by your peers in an adult court, and if convicted, receive the same punishment as meted out to adults."

Yet a most unexpected couple believed that the murderers could be redeemed and given another chance. That couple was none other than In Ho Oh's parents.

In fact, his parents learned of their son's death from those very same news reports. Grief-stricken, yet walking in faith, they wrote a letter to the regional Red Cross that was published in the Philadelphia newspaper in 1958. This is what they wrote:

Dear sir:

We, the parents of In Ho Oh, on behalf of our whole family, deeply appreciate the expressions of sympathy you have extended to us at this time. In Ho had almost finished the preparation needed for the achievement of his ambition, which was to serve his people and nation as a Christian statesman. His death by an unexpected accident leaves that ambition unachieved.

When we heard of his death, we could not believe the news was true, for the shock was so unexpected and sad, but now we find it is an undeniable fact that In Ho Oh has been killed by a group of Negro boys whose souls were not saved, in whom human nature is paralyzed. We are sad now, not only because of In Ho’s unachieved future, but also because of the unsaved souls and paralyzed human nature of the murderers.

We thank God that He has given us a plan whereby our sorrow is being turned into Christian purpose. It is our hope that we may somehow be instrumental in the salvation of souls and in giving life to the human nature of the murderers. Our family has met together, and we have decided to petition that the most generous treatment possible within the laws of your government be given to those who have committed this criminal action without knowing what it would mean to him who has been sacrificed, to his family, to his friends, and to his country.

In order to give evidence of our sincere hope contained in this petition, our whole family has decided to save money to start a fund to be used for the religious, educational, vocational, and social guidance of the boys when they are released. In addition, we are daring to hope that we can do something to minimize such juvenile criminal actions, which are to be found, not only in your country, but also in Korea, and we are sure everywhere in the world.

About the burial of the physical body of him who has been sacrificed; we hope that you could spare a piece of land in your country and bury it there, for your land, too, is homeland for Christians and people of democratic society, and it is our sincere hope that thus we will remember your people, and you will remember our people, and that both you and we will more vitally sense an obligation for the better guidance of juvenile delinquents whose souls are unsaved, and who human natures are paralyzed. We hope in this way to make his tomb a monument which will call people’s attention to this cause. We think this is a way to give life to the dead, and to the murderers, and to keep you and us closer in Christian love and fellowship.

We are not familiar with your customs, and you may find something hard to understand in what we are trying to say and do. Please interpret our hope and idea with a Christian spirit and in the light of democratic principles. We have dared to express our hope with a spirit received from the Gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ, who died for our sins.

May God bless you, your people, and particularly the boys who killed our son and kinsman.

Ki Byang Oh (father), Shin Synn H. Oh (mother)

Two uncles, two aunts, five sisters, two brothers, and nine cousins also signed the letter.

In Ho Oh was buried in Philadelphia at Old Pine Church alongside soldiers from the American Revolution. Hundreds of people attended his funeral. The mayor, a war veteran, spoke and wept at the service. Oh’s headstone read, “to turn sorrow into Christian purpose,” a quote from the letter.

You might wonder why he was buried here. It may have something to do with the fact that In Ho Oh had been a translator for the American Army, fighting the communists in Korea.

What happened to the teenagers?

Because they were tried in adult criminal court, the murderers initially faced the death penalty. Their sentences ended up ranging from probation to life in prison. All of them were out by 1974.

The man I interviewed, who was also one of the murderers, never knew about the letter In Ho Oh's parents wrote. By the time I spoke to him, he was seventy. "Young and dumb," was what he said. I read him In Ho Oh's parents' letter. "I wished I had known," his voice cracked. If he were still alive, he would be in his eighties today.

The murder of In Ho Oh and the subsequent eleven trials increased racial tensions in Philadelphia. The citizens of Philadelphia exhaled alternate breaths of vengeance and remorse. Cracking down on juvenile delinquency became a top priority for the police department. Offering Korean scholarships to the University of Pennsylvania alleviated the community's collective guilt. But while many wanted to bring some good out of In Ho Oh's tragic death, they seemed unwilling to try the third path offered by the murder victim's parents. That was the path of forgiveness.

I have never read a more powerful letter on forgiveness than theirs. What a light of hope to see such Christian compassion!

The parents did send a fortune to the city of Philadelphia--in South Korean currency. They gave it to the mayor, who established a committee composed of the President of the University of Pennsylvania, the Regional Director of the Red Cross, and Howard Pew, founder of the Pew Foundation.

Once the money was converted into dollars, it came to $500.00. The Committee did not honor the parents' requests. Nor did they raise additional funds for the In Ho Oh Memorial fund. What happened? Had too much time elapsed? Was the amount too small?

The Philadelphia Inquirer reported at the time, "Philadelphia could not or dared not implement the Ohs' ideal."

When I met David Oh the second time, it was 2014, and I asked him this question. The members of the committee for the In Ho Oh Memorial Fund could not find a way to rise above the negative societal forces to make the fund work.

David Oh said, "The sum of $500.00 would not go far. Attitudes were different in those days, and my grandparents wished to respect the laws and customs of the country so they dd not protest."

He added that his own father who lived in Philadelphia at the time of his nephew's murder also felt pressure from the African American community. Making a big to-do about this donation helping "educate' young Black men might humiliate Philadelphians even further and perhaps create racial problems between Koreans and Blacks. Besides, in 1960, the account had only earned $20 in interest. So, what to do with the funds was hotly debated.

One idea was to donate the funds to a Boy Scout troop in Oh's neighborhood. General Wilson thought that the funds should go to programs to reduce juvenile delinquency--not to Boy Scouts or killers. Finally, in 1963, unable to come to a consensus, the committee washed its hands of its burden and donated the fund to In Ho Oh's uncle, David Oh's father, Ki Hang Oh, the founder of the first Korean Christian church in Philadelphia. He used the money to set up the In Ho Oh Memorial Center to help visiting students from South Korea. The Committee's struggle to reach the best decision for the funds was reflective of the entire city's turmoil over this case.

While turning sorrow into Christian purpose was not realized in the way that the Oh family intended, their request did alter the life of one of the killers. That was James Lee Wright. For over 30 years, he coached at The Bottoms, a community gym. Coach Wright was such a highly respected coach that even professional players visited his gym and considered it an honor to play there. People forgot that he had served two and a half years and ten years' probation for In Ho Oh's murder. He eventually received a public community award for his years of coaching.

At the time I was doing my research, Coach Wright was featured on the cover of the local Philly tabloid. How providential! The reporter never mentioned his dark past, so I contacted him. I shared my research. He was completely unaware of the young life of Coach Wright. To be certain, we spent time verifying names, date of birth, and addresses. There was no doubt. We were both blown away by the truth. I don't know if this reporter ever asked Coach Wright if he knew of the letter, but looking at how Coach Wright led his later life, I like to think that he did.

It also directed the course of David Oh's life. He studied hard in school and went to law school. He became a prominent attorney in Philadelphia. By 2004, he was running for public office. He announced his candidacy from the gravesite of his cousin. In 2011, he was elected City Councilman at Large. He said to me, "We are all God's children. Why not step up in accordance with what I believe? It's important for our community...if we are to turn around the city, we must have solid values. We must work together." He served on the City Council until 2023. He ran for mayor as a law-and-order candidate but did not win. In a bizarre repeat of violence, he was stabbed in the driveway at his home while unloading his groceries. While the attacker was caught and charged with attempted murder, he was released after ten months.

In 2016, the City of Philadelphia dedicated the street where the murder occurred to In Ho Oh. Photo courtesy of David Oh.

A third person influenced was a Quaker writer, Mary Esther McWhirter. She wrote a brief account about the parents' letter in the early 1960s in a collection of stories called Candles in the Dark. That was the book that inspired me.

While I find it sad that many of the murderers did not know the forgiveness of In Ho Oh's parents, we can see the power of one heartfelt letter and the good that forgiveness can produce.

We live in an evil age where random violence abounds. Christ preaches mercy and justice. We are all in need of forgiveness, and we all need to be forgiving.

Do not let the candle of forgiveness go out in your heart. Keep it flickering. May our sorrows today be turned into Christian purpose tomorrow.