As retold by Bruce Lowitt

Walking through Chinatown, Melvin Glickman notices a storefront that reads: Moishe Plotnik's Chinese Laundry.

"Moishe Plotnik?" he wonders, and goes inside and sees your basic Chinese laundry and, because of the uniqueness of the name, racks of T-shirts, mugs, baseball hats and so on emblazoned with Moishe Plotnik's Chinese Laundry. The souvenir business is brisk.

Glickman goes to the counter, where an old Chinese man is standing.

"Excuse me," Glockman says, "but can you tell me how this place got a name like Moishe Plotnik's Chinese Laundry?"

"Ahh... Everybody ask that," the old man says, his Chinese accent quite thick. "Is name of owner."

"Is he here now?"

"He is right here," the old man says. "He is me."

"Really? How did you ever get a name like Moishe Plotnik?" Glickman asks.

"Simple," says the old man. "Long time ago when come to United States, standing in line at Documentation Center. Man in front is Jewish gentleman. Lady behind desk look at him and say, 'What your name?' " He say, 'Moishe Plotnik.'

"She write name and send him to next window. Then she look at me and say, 'What your name?'

"I say, 'Sam Ting.'"