“The year 1871 was not particularly important in the development of Shanghai as a physical place, but was noteworthy when it comes to historiography…the Oxford English Dictionary singles it out as the year during which “to shanghai” began to appear in newspapers.”

Jeffrey Wasserstrom,

Global Shanghai, 1850-2010: A History in Fragments

Currently enthralled with all manner of 19th Century appurtenances, San Francisco is home to a second golden age of handlebar mustaches and historic cocktails served in period-specific bars.  Luckily for 21st century patrons, the fascination is all surface: absent are the trapdoors and opium-laced cocktails that made the city’s storied drinking holes famous for shanghaiing.  Precious little romance was involved in the process, as quite a number of men died while being taken, and unseasoned civilians were just as likely to fall to a drugged drink or truncheon.  Once aboard, a man dared not tell how he came to be there–his hope lay in being able to jump ship or find his fortune at the end of the line in Shanghai.

Also called “crimping,” the system was essential to early San Francisco’s maritime trade for the simple reason that more money could be made from the land than from the sea.  A sailor shipping out of San Francisco could earn many times more than at any other port of call, yet very few chose seagoing toil when a potential fortune was to be found on land.  The shortfall was made up the hard way.

The practice was hardly unusual or mysterious–the British impressed enough American sailors into their navy so as to cause ill feelings between the two countries.  But in its inimitable way, San Francisco found a way to put its own mark on this ignominious history.

For San Franciscans, Shanghai Kelly may conjure the image of a sports bar at Polk and Broadway.  Today, the only potential danger at that bar comes from drunken pick-ups.  But there was in fact a Shanghai Kelly, and his bar was reputed to have been built at the intersection of either Pacific or Broadway (albeit a bit closer to the Bay).  So many fabulous stories are associated with the man that it is nearly impossible to separate fact and fiction.  Whatever the truth, Kelly successfully found employment for a great many men who were not otherwise disposed to go to sea.

The oft-recounted tale (with little or no basis in fact, but enjoyable nonetheless) is that three ships sat in the bay, unable to sail with partial crews.  The captains of these vessels were so terrible that no conscious sailor would willingly sign on for what promised to be a hell-voyage.

Enterprising businessman that he was, Kelly saw opportunity.  He hired a paddler and invited anyone who wished to celebrate his “birthday” to come along for the ride–drinks on him.  The next day, all three ships set sail with full crews, and Kelly’s reputation as King of the Crimps was sealed.

If you’re searching for a truly pedigreed history, The Old Ship Saloon at Pacific and Battery offers a direct line to the city’s dark past.  When I first visited the bar on the pretext of rumor (who doesn’t want to drink in the hull of an old ship?), I was a little disappointed to find a quiet bar–a nice-looking bar, all warm wood and big windows–but certainly no 19th Century three-master.

Nevertheless, the bar you see today is built upon the ruins of the Arkansas after it was hauled off of the rocks of Alcatraz (then Bird Island) in 1849.  A door was cut in its side, casks rolled in, and for many years it served as a cornerstone of crimping history.  Curiously enough, James Laflin, the Arkansas’ former cabin boy, tended bar in the saloon–and for the next 50 years sent men to sea with his special cocktails.

Wild measures for wild times were the rule, but by the turn of the 19th century the city was changing, trade began to shift from the old wooden vessels, and San Francisco was striving to be a little less Wild West and a little more Paris of the West.  Gradually, the Port of Oakland and the Port of Los Angeles supplanted what had been one of the busiest ports in the world.  As the great Chronicle newspaperman Robert O’Brien recalls the story as it was told to him by his predecessors, “the earthquake and fire of April 1906 in Frisco [sic] would wipe out the shanghaiing warrens of the city.  And they would never be rebuilt.”

If you didn’t get enough qipao in the Shanghai exhibition (it is a broad survey, after all), I recommend you see what Softfilm was up to at the Hong Kong Museum of History.  Nearly 300 examples of the classic dress are on view and not one that can be tried on–talk about heaven and hell.
Many thanks to Dave for the great photos!

Even those who don’t follow the art market know that major Chinese contemporary art is priced out of the the means of most apartment-dwelling San Franciscans, so the question “How much is it?” is a question not asked casually.

tilt-shifting courtesy of TC

If you’ve seen the Shanghai exhibition, Zhang’s work is the one comprised of bricks from dismantled shikumen, as well as life-sized silicon rubber scholar’s rocks and an unsettlingly flesh-hued vessel.  For those of you who require a little more  background, see this earlier post.

Happy news for those of us who like to buy art and afford lunch, as Zhang has proven in a multiple charting the disappearance of old Shanghai.  His Vestiges of a Process: Shanghai Shikumen, consists of an enevelope of nine photographs of the rapidly disintegrating past and a wee paper boat to help you travel the waters of memory.  Both the folded boat and envelope are fashioned out of a painted composite map of Shanghai showing the restlessness of the landscape.  The best part?  This artist’s work is $15.

(very not-to-scale)

There’s little chance that I’ll ever be able to buy anything that we exhibit in the museum–minus what’s in the museum store.  I’ll take what I can get, until someone wants to gift me one of the great rubber scholars rocks.

Shanghai-ed | Shanghai In a Minute from Joe Nafis on Vimeo.

photo courtesy of Bunky's Pickle © used with permission

Although 1940s Shanghai had lost considerable luster courtesy of occupation, war, and revolution, another Shanghai was angling to take its place.  In the same fashion that Hollywood had been responsible for inspiring glamor the world over, nightclubs in search of their own golden era underwent a certain Shanghai-ification.  The city offered a powerful syllogism, an invocation that promised delight and unparalleled decadence.  Even pre-Castro Cuba with its tropical,  imperialist-friendly allure was home to a theater christened “The Shanghai.”

And then there was Oakland. 

I’ve spoken with a few patrons who fondly remember Fong Wan’s New Shanghai Terrace Bowl.  Possessing everything mid-20th century Americans could want–a nightclub, a bowling alley, and a Chinese restaurant–it was a popular destination, vaguely exotic for its fare, but safely American in its capacities for serving up sport and booze.

Charlie Low’s Forbidden City is perhaps better known to later generations, in part because of Arthur Dong’s excellent documentary on the San Francisco caberet, or perhaps thanks to Flower Drum Song.  I know it well because I get my hair cut on Sutter Street; a modeling school now occupies the second floor space that once housed the club.

Fong famously purchased the vacant building across the street from Low’s Forbidden City, installing a massive sign directing patrons down the street to his own club, a savvy move that helped cement his reputation as a hard-driving businessman.

But this is only the tip of the research iceberg.  Interested in multiple Chinatowns?  Chinatown Time Travel is a good place to start.  As you can tell from the above photo, Bunky’s Pickle has a fascinating archive.  Likewise, Dizzy Atmosphere offers up a native view of our own sinful city.  There’s plenty more to be seen if you trust in a combination of accident and vigilance in your photographic archaeology.

But not all is history: I’m anxiously awaiting Trina Robbins’ June 24th lecture about San Francisco’s Chinese nightclubs, co-presented by the Art Deco Society of California.  Stepping from the past and onto the stage the same evening will be the high-stepping ladies of the Grant Avenue Follies.

It’s almost impossible to imagine an era when chop suey was as adventurous as the Szechuan treats served up on Clement Street today, or an era that wouldn’t have read the above image as the pretext for an argument against orientalizing.   I’m no apologist, but I do know that if we didn’t have Chinatown and its nightclubs this city would be a very different place.  What can’t be forgotten is that culture goes both ways.  I’m saying this as someone who was taught to use chopsticks by a Chinese aunt–at Benihana.

It made me think anew about the rapid changes China has undergone over the past 40 years. When asked for his predictions for the future of China, Jeffrey said he expects China to keep surprising us since all predictions have been off base for a long time. Jeffrey, who is professor of History at UC Irvine, will be at the Asian introducing some films about contemporary China on September 5 at 11am and 2pm, and at 12pm will be signing copies of his books, including his latest Global Shanghai, 1850–2010.

I’d like to share my pictures from the Shanghai Municipal History Museum. It’s located in Pudong, on the less “interesting” side of the Huangpu River (more developed, boring), in the basement of the iconic Oriental Pearl TV Tower.

The museum’s name, though bland, is self-explanatory. I didn’t know what to expect, but it left an indelible impression. I loved it! Some people frown upon dioramas, perhaps because the worst kinds forsake content, quality, and depth for spectacle and cheap thrills, and they tend to be hokey. True in many cases, but not so for this particular museum. I can’t vouch for its scholarship, and maybe I’m just lazy, but I learned a lot about the rich history of Shanghai from the  amazing, elaborate, impressive dioramas.

Half the time I wore a huge childlike smile, taken by the clever methods used to tell a grand story. A lot of ground was covered in Shanghai’s tumultuous history, and the many ugly realities weren’t sugarcoated. They used frighteningly realistic figures, miniature cardboard cut-outs of real people, photo backdrops, music and ambient sounds, video installs, etc. Sure, I’ll admit, there was a teeny bit of cheesiness, but in the best way possible. Who doesn’t love a bit of cheese? (and if you want pure chintz, the Shanghai Sex Museum is around the corner from this one).

What do you think? Are dioramas ever okay in museums? Can exhibits be too immersive? What are some fine examples of terrific diorama museums? (I’ll chime in: the War Memorial of Korea has some).

And now, I’ll let the photos speak for themselves:

We blogged about this upcoming addition to the neighborhood some months ago, and are now thrilled to actually see it going up right outside our doors!

The fifteen ton copper sculpture will officially debut next week, but first it needs to be put together. Because of its size, the sculpture was created and shipped in multiple sections, to be assembled on site.

One of six arms pulls up in front of the museum

Each section must be carefully fitted onto the sculpture’s torso. The bright orange interior armature of the statue is clearly visible in these image, but will be hidden once the sculpture is fully put together.

Moving an arm into alignment

The completed sculpture will be dedicated on Wednesday, May 12, 2010 at 10 a.m. That same evening, the San Francisco Arts Commission and the the Asian Art Museum will present a public program featuring Zhang Huan in conversation with museum director Jay Xu.

Three Heads Six Arms (2008) will be on view through 2011.

1. The images were for commercial use, and
2. The majority of them date to the 1920s and 1930s.

I am curious to understand why that is. So in this multipart series (I don’t even know how many blog postings I will need!), I will attempt to make connections that may have been missed or misread, using the artworks and the available texts in the exhibition, such as object labels, wall panels, and exhibition catalogue. But right off the bat, I must say, I am having fun with this topic and it is an incredible challenge!

Here is a sample spread of this controversial group of images:

Distinguishing Local Flavor, 1890s

Gliding Like Celestial Beings, 1930s

The Young Companion, 1935

Moonlight over Huangpu River, 1930s

What should we be seeing in all of these images? I’m guessing that what should be seen in these depictions of women is different from what some people are actually seeing. A wall panel in the exhibition offers this suggestion: “Chinese women appeared in Shanghai’s popular media in several guises…. Seen in the posters, magazines, and film clips presented in this gallery are various idealizations of the Chinese modern woman, such as homemaker, celebrity, and sex object.”

The key concept here is modernity. Beginning in the late 1800s and into the early 1900s, there existed a craze to modernize all aspects of Shanghai society. For example, in technology, as illustrated by the painting below, “Shanghai was the first Chinese city [in 1882] to have electric lighting installed on its streets.”

Wandering Eyes Giving Way to Wandering Thoughts, 1890s

In commerce, as described in the exhibition catalogue, the Big Four department stores (pictured below) introduced new trends to the Chinese retail experience, such as “set[ting] fixed prices to prevent haggling, and … emphasiz[ing] individual and friendly customer service.”

Nanjing Road-From Series of Views of Shanghai, after 1937

Womanhood was no exception; it too felt the effects of the drive to modernize. This should not be surprising, since women’s rights were being advanced internationally at this time, such as suffrage for the American woman. In China, the first such attempt at reform came in 1898 with institutional support from the emperor and realized to an extent by men and women reformers in Shanghai. The results are impressive:  the first Chinese girls’ school, the first women’s association in China, and the first Chinese women’s journal (for more see Qian Nanxiu’s article in Modern China 29, no.4 (October 2003): 399-454).

Do the visual materials of the time reflect these notions of women’s rights? In some ways, yes; in other ways, no. In the 1880s and 1890s, we begin to see the first publicized depictions of Chinese women in the form of photo-lithographed prints. What is meant by “publicized?” Well, the tradition of painting Chinese beauties is a long one in China, as exemplified by a group of album leaf paintings in the exhibition (below right).

Ladies, 1890

Such paintings were traditionally viewed in a private setting, in someone’s studio or home garden. However, as discussed in the exhibition catalogue, a new option became available in Shanghai with the introduction of new printing technologies such as lithography. The same artist who created the private painting (above right), at the same time, painted the following public image of women:

Shining Eyes and White Wrists, 1887-1893

This painting served as the original manuscript from which photo-lithographed prints were made, then bound together into periodical form and sold in local shops for readers to peruse at home or in a park, for example. In these ways, images of Chinese women became public material.

Several aspects of this image satisfied people’s cravings for the “modern.”

1. The latest technology was employed to make its prints.
2. The formerly exclusive tradition of painting Chinese beauties became more accessible to the larger public.
3. Illustrated here is a local hotspot called the Zhang Garden, which the object label identifies as “the most famous of the new public gardens in Shanghai and was considered by contemporaries to be the city’s first modern amusement park [...].”
4. The popular European game of billiards was offered in Shanghai.
5. Chinese women are presented as having access to this new form of entertainment.
6. Chinese women are presented out-and-about in a public space.

The last two aspects concern us here. In the 1880s and 1890s, while the social reformers had their visions of modern Chinese womanhood, entrepreneurs and publishers in Shanghai advertised their own visions: modernity for women meant having greater access to the public domain and being associated with the cult of the new. And what better place to find a modern woman and all things new than in the city of Shanghai! This is how I regard this group of illustrations, as the beginning of a marketing strategy linking the Chinese woman, to Shanghai, to modernity.

That strategy was seen everywhere by the time we encounter Shanghai in the 1920s and 1930s, not only within the city limits but in Europe and the States. Hence, a good number of people all over the world are most familiar with commercial images such as this one:

A Prosperous City That Never Sleeps, 1930s

What are we being sold here by presenting a fashionable woman lounging before a skyline of Nanjing Road at night? The object label offers that “it directly links the Chinese … woman with the city and the ideals of modernity.” In other words: Come to Shanghai to find a modern woman!  So, what characterizes a “modern” woman?

Southern Beauty, 1930s

Finishing an Orchid-Water Bath, 1930s

It Often Begins with a Smile, 1930s

Facing One's Reflection with Vanity, 1930s

Viewed as a group, the commercial posters in the exhibition indeed are selling an ideal of the modern woman in Shanghai: she was fashionable in appearance, she was a adept in the home and in social occasions, she projected confidence and composure. None of this should be new to us, however, for these ideals were also advertised in America. As is identified in the gallery’s wall panel, in the 1920s and 1930s, there appeared worldwide a controversial but popular icon known as the “modern girl” icon. The icon appeared in advertising in major metropolises such as Paris, Bombay, and New York. So of course such an icon would also have appeared in Shanghai, because everything that we’ve seen so far has beaten us over the head with this one message: during this time period, the residents of Shanghai saw themselves as no less than active participants in the global phenomenon of modernization.

At this point, the issue of sex is often raised. What about the semi-naked woman in the poster? And what about the courtesans and their bound feet seen earlier? Wasn’t Shanghai called the “Whore of the Orient?” How “modern” could any of this be? These issues will be explored in my next posting.  So please come back!

While there’s plenty of excitement in all this potential energy, I’m actually more interested in what will remain after the Shanghai Expo.  We seemed to make out alright, didn’t we?

PS good job Shanghaiist!  We look forward to your reportage over the coming months.