“109. Chinese Merchants, San Francisco, Calif.” c. 1890 – 1899? Stereograph by Nesemann Woods Gallery, Marysville CA (from the Wallace B. Chung and Madeline H. Chung Collection of the University of British Columbia Library).

Merchants of Old Chinatown

In the late 1840s and the 1850s, Chinese merchants and traders made their initial foray into California. By February 1849, the number of Chinese had increased to 54 and by January 1850, historians would count 787 men and two women in San Francisco. In December 1849, the Alta California newspaper reported that 300 Chinese convened a meeting at the Canton Restaurant on Jackson Street for the purpose of organizing the “Chinese residents of San Francisco” and engaging the services of lawyer Selim E. Woodsworth to “act in the capacity and adviser for them.”

In his book, Genthe’s Photographs of San Francisco’s Old Chinatown, historian John Tchen wrote about the vanguard of old San Francisco Chinatown’s merchant elite as follows:

“These pioneers hailed primarily from the Sanyi (Saam Yap) or Three Districts [三邑], as well as the Zhongshan area in the immediate vicinity of Canton. It’s important to note that Nanhai (Namhoi) and Panyu (Punyu) stood out as the most prosperous districts within Guangdong Province. Their economic pursuits ran the gamut from cultivating fertile agricultural lands, breeding silkworms and fish, to crafting silk textiles, producing ceramics for both domestic and international markets, and engaging in various other commercial endeavors.

“What set apart the merchants and artisans from Sanyi and Zhongshan was their mastery of a more refined city dialect compared to their Siyi (Sei Yap) counterparts, who mainly consisted of poorer, rural communities. Remarkably, over 80 percent of Chinese immigrants in North America originated from the Siyi [四邑] region. A noteworthy portion of these Sanyi merchants belonged to the emerging class of compradores, individuals who facilitated business transactions on behalf of Western trading companies. These California-based Sanyi merchants thus brought prior experience in dealings with Western entrepreneurs, and California was seen as a promising arena to expand these lucrative connections.”

With the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad in May of 1869, the more sophisticated and adventurous members of San Francisco’s pioneer Chinese merchant community would begin exploring other cities in the United States in search of opportunity.

“Sing-Man, Chinese Merchant, San Francisco” and “Choy-Chew, Chinese Merchant, San Francisco,” Harper’s Weekly, September 4, 1869, wood engraving on paper. Artist unknown, artist after a photograph by Mathew Brady, 1869 (from the collection of the National Portrait Gallery).

For example, in the Harper’s Weekly article (Sept 4, 1869, page 574), the reporter identified merchant Choy Chew as a San Franciscan and a talented linguist of sufficient intellect and stature to be invited to give a speech at a European-American banquet. He reportedly visited Chicago with a fellow merchant, Sing Man, before traveling to New York where the pair were regarded as “representatives of Chinese industry and commerce.”

At the banquet in Chicago, Choy Chew delivered the following remarks:

”Eleven years ago I came from my home to seek my fortune in your great Republic. I landed on the golden shore of California, utterly ignorant of your language, unknown to any of your people, a stranger to your customs and laws, and in the minds of some an intruder — one of that race whose presence is deemed a positive injury to the public prosperity. But gentlemen, I found both kindness and justice. I found that above the prejudice that had been formed against us, that the hand of friendship was extended to the people of every nation, and that even Chinamen must live, be happy, successful and respected in ‘free America.’ I gathered knowledge in your public schools; I learned to speak as you do; and, gentlemen, I rejoice that it is so; that I have been able to cross this vast continent without the aid of an interpreter; that here in the heart of the United States I can speak to you in your own familiar speech, and tell you how much, how very much, I appreciate your hospitality; how grateful I feel for the privileges and advantages I have enjoyed in your glorious country; and how earnestly I hope that your example of enterprise, energy, vitality, and national generosity may be seen and understood, as I see and understand it, by our Government …

”We trust our visit, gentlemen, may be productive of good results to all of us; that the two great countries, East and West, China and America, may be found forever together in friendship, and that a Chinaman in America, or an American in China, may find like protection and like consideration in their search for happiness and wealth.“
– from the Scientific American, new series, vol. 21, no. 9, p. 131 (August 28, 1869)

The founding in 1888 of the Merchants’ Exchange in old San Francisco Chinatown represented the logical culmination of several decades of robust business operations by the pioneer Chinese merchants in the city and beyond.

“Chinese Merchants’ Exchange, San Francisco.” Lithograph from Harper’s Weekly, Vol. 26, 1882 (from the collection of The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

In his book, A Guide Book to San Francisco (published by The Bancroft Company in 1888), John S. Hittell described the Chinese Merchants Exchange as follows:

“At 739 Sacramento Street are the new rooms of the Chinese Merchants’ Exchange. They are fitted up in the ordinary Chinese style, and though presenting no special attraction to the visitor, the business transacted there is of considerable importance. A Chinese merchant, contractor, or speculator never starts on any enterprise alone. He always has at least one partner, and in most cases several. He makes no secret of his transactions, but converses about them at the exchange, and often goes there in search of capital when his own means are insufficient. He sometimes applies to that institution to find him a capable man to manage a new business which he is about to start. If, as often happens, one be selected who is in debt to other members, they make arrangements which will not interfere with the new enterprise; and the debtor is not unfrequently released from his obligations.”

Fung Tang

Fung Tang, c. 1870. Photo by Kai Suck (from the collection of the California Historical Society).

The address of the Merchants’ Exchange at 739 Sacramento Street was hardly surprising, as it shared the same building which had housed the mercantile house of a legendary merchant, Fung Tang. Historian York Lo, in his article for The Industrial History of Hong Kong Group website, described Fung as “a native of Jiujiang (Kow Kong) in the Nanhai county (南海九江) in Guangdong, Fung Tang followed his uncle Fung Yuen-sau (馮元秀) to California in 1857 at the age of 17 and worked at Tuck Chong & Co (德祥號辦莊), a trading business founded by his uncle and his fellow Nanhai native Kwan Chak-yuen (關澤元).” In the Langley San Francisco directory of 1868, the Tuck Chong & Co. is listed as “(Chinese) merchants” located on Chinatown’s first main street at 739 Sacramento Street.

“In his spare time,” York Lo writes, “he learned English from Reverend William Speer and became fluent in the language. With his linguistic skills, he became a bridge between the Chinese and the white community in San Francisco and even befriended Peter Burnett, the first Governor of California, who described Fung in his memoir as ’a cultivated man, well read in the history of the world, spoke four or five different languages fluently including English, and was a most agreeable gentleman, of easy and pleasing manners’.”

As such, Fung Tang must be considered as a logical client for the pioneer Chinatown photographer, Kai Suck. A professional studio portrait would have conferred respectability in the eyes of the non-Chinese businessmen and politicians with whom he interacted. In fact, Fung appears to have deployed the same portrait now reposing in the collection of the California Historical Society as part of his commercial advertising in Hong Kong.

An advertisement for Fung Tang’s flour import business in the Sheung Wan district of Hong Kong.

For more details about Fung’s business exploits and his public service, including his election to the board of directors of the Tung Wah clinic (the original predecessor organization of the future Chinese Hospital), readers are encouraged to read York Lo’s piece here: https://industrialhistoryhk.org/fung-tang-the-firm-the-family-the-transpacific-metals-trade-and-tin-refinery/?fbclid=IwAR3DU6pEcaEw6w2uH1OZvFBFL8vg-Rl4keBS-VkbcttFuHKlx973g3ZjcY8

Tchen asserts that the influx of British and other Western imperialist powers into China’s major treaty ports transformed the status of merchants engaged with Western trading companies. Rather than operating on the margins of Qing-era society, the merchants gained unprecedented prestige and influence. Beyond China’s borders, they experienced far more freedom to engage in trade and amass substantial profits without the worry of state-imposed restrictions. They rapidly acquired the necessary language skills and business acumen to navigate their newfound opportunities.

San Francisco’s early Chinese merchants swiftly grasped the English language and American business practices, excelling in American-style transactions, and developing strategies for fostering positive relations with the general San Francisco populace. The local press affectionately labeled them “China Boys.” They made conscious efforts to participate in the celebrations of significant American holidays, further endearing themselves to the San Francisco community.

This approach significantly bolstered their rapport with the local population, as evidenced by the California Courier’s glowing praise: “We have never seen a finer-looking body of men collected together in San Francisco. In fact, this portion of our population is a pattern for sobriety, order, and obedience to laws, not only to other foreign residents, but to Americans themselves,“ declared Cornelius B. S. Gibbs, a marine-insurance adjuster, in 1877. Gibbs emphasized the high esteem in which Chinese merchants were held among white business circles. “As men of business, I consider that the Chinese merchants are fully equal to our merchants. As men of integrity, I have never met a more honorable, high-minded, correct, and truthful set of men than the Chinese merchants of our city.”

Attempts to participate in mainstream society, however, were not always welcomed by lower-class elements of white society as evident in this news account about Fung Tang’s appearance in San Francisco’s California Theatre in September 1869:

Clipping from the San Jose Mercury News, September 18, 1869 (vol. I no. 42)

Fung Tang’s transpacific success in San Francisco was hardly unique among the ranks of Chinatown’s early merchant class. He exemplified the business acumen of his fellow pioneering entrepreneurs and their establishment of transpacific trading posts in strategic locations.

Lai Chun-chuen and Chy Lung Co.

The story of the pioneer business of Chy Lung & Co. predates the history of San Francisco Chinatown itself, and its establishment spurred the rise of Chinatown’s first commercial strip, Sacramento Street (唐人街; canto: “Tohng Yahn Gaai”) or “Chinese Street.”

An enlargement of the stereograph taken by Carleton Watkins for the Thomas Houseworth & Co., and “[e]ntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866 by Lawrence & Houseworth, in the Clerk’s office of the District Court of the United States, for the Northern District of California.”

“Among the early Chinese settlers were merchants like Lai Chu[sic]-chuen,” the late historian Judy Yung wrote in her pictorial book, San Francisco’s Chinatown (published by the Chinese Historical Society of America). “Upon arrival in 1850, he opened Chinatown’s first Bazaar at 640 Sacramento Street, importing teas, opium, silk, lacquered goods, and Chinese groceries.”

"Chy Lung & Co., Sacramento St., San Francisco. 1796” c. 1866. Photograph by Carleton Watkins for his Watkins’ Pacific Coast stereograph series (from a private collection).

Chy Lung’s founder, Lai Chun-chuen (a.k.a. Chung Lock), came to San Francisco in 1850 from Nam Hoi county. According to UC professor Yong Chen, the business founded by Lai and, his partners Xie Mingli, Fang Ren, Sheng Wen, and Chen Nu, appear in the earliest business directories for San Francisco. A “Chyling, china mer, 188 Washington” appears in the Parker directory for 1852-1853. The Colville’s directory of 1856 lists a “Chy Lung (Chinese) mcht, Canton Silk and Shawl Store, 166 Wash’n,” and the business would remain on Washington Street (moving to 612 Washington St. by 1858) until 1863 when it relocated to 642 Sacramento Street. By 1865, the Chy Lung & Co. had either expanded or taken over the address of 640 Sacramento Street.

Portion of the stereograph “No. 391 Chinese Store. Chy Lung & Co.,” c. 1866. Published by Lawrence & Houseworth (from in the collections of the Society of California Pioneers, Wells Fargo Corporate Archives, and the Library of Congress).

“He imported Chinese prefabricated houses and cargoes of Chinese goods, teas, silk, lacquer and Porcelain wears, and even opium,” historian Phil Choy wrote. “The drug that made American merchants millionaires in the China trade now found its way to California for both the Chinese and American markets Chy Lung was one of only two Chinese businesses at the time that advertised in an American newspaper, the Daily Alta California.”

“No. 391 Chinese Store. Chy Lung & Co., Sacramento Street.” c. 1866. Published by Thomas Houseworth & Co. (from in the collection of the New York Public Library).

Lai Chun-chuen is remembered not only for his business acumen but also as the principal author of the objections to the anti-Chinese movement in California and plea for civil rights as published in the pamphlet, Remarks of the Chinese Merchants of San Francisco, upon Governor Bigler’s Message, and Some Common Objections (San Francisco: Whitton, Towne, 1855).

The preface to Remarks of the Chinese Merchants of San Francisco upon Governor Bigler’s Message, and Some Common Objections of 1855 (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). The second line of the first paragraph identifies Lai Chun-chuen as “a Chinese merchant of this city, connected with the respectable firm of CHAI LUNG.”

Chy Lung & Co. continued to play a leading role in the Chinese merchants exchange until Lai Chun-chuen’s death on August 30, 1868. The business remained a fixture of the Chinatown business community for the rest of the 19th century, and it adopted the new communications technology of the telephone, as shown by the Pacific Telephone directory for the Chinese Exchange in 1902.

The listing for Chy Lung & Co. as it appeared in the Wells Fargo directories of Chinese business for 1878 and 1882.

The Chy Lung & Co. business, and others established by Chinatown’s merchants, soon comprised a source of both tangible and symbolic power within the rapidly growing Chinese community in the American West. As the Chinese immigrant population swelled, businesses catering to their specific needs diversified and expanded. A hierarchical structure emerged, influenced by both economic factors and the district of origin. The wealthier Sanyi individuals typically presided over larger, commercially successful enterprises, including import-export firms. Those from the Nanhai District dominated the men’s clothing and tailoring sector, as well as butcher shops. The neighboring Shunde District populace exercised control over overalls and workers’ clothing factories.

“S.F. Chinatown 1898 C12”. Photographer unknown (from the Martin Behrman Collection of the San Francisco Public Library). A well-attired merchant and possibly his son walk south on Spofford Alley from Washington to Clay Street.

Meanwhile, Chinese hailing from the Zhongshan District, which represented the second-largest Chinese population in California, were prominent in the fish and fruit orchard businesses, as well as in the production of women’s garments, shirts, and underwear.

“Quan Quick Wah”

“Merchant and Bodyguard” c. 1896 – 1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress). A descendant of the large, confident man shown in traditional robes identifies him as San Francisco merchant “Quan Quick Wah.” Based on other photographs of this Chinatown location, the pair appears to be walking on the west side of Waverly Place toward its intersection with Clay Street. In his book about Genthe’s Chinatown photographs, historian Jack Tchen wrote about this imposing figure followed by a bodyguard as follows: “The powerfully built man dressed in traditional silk robes has been described as a tong leader. Whether he was a tong leader, a wealthy merchant, or both, his dress and carriage convey a strong presence. Tong leaders came to rival the power of wealthy merchants. The man following the merchant or tong leader is said to have been his bodyguard, protecting him from the attack of a rival tong. In the photograph the two are passing under ornate cloth lanterns that indicate a pawnshop business.”

“Merchant and Bodyguard” c. 1896 – 1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress). This full photograph in the Library of Congress shows that Genthe’s image fortunately included a portion of the sign for the entrance to a basement restaurant. The signage (which appears in other photographs of this area), indicates that the merchant and bodyguard were photographed walking on the west side of Waverly Place (at about no. 23 and 25 Waverly) and toward the southwest corner of its intersection with Clay Street. Tchen’s guess that the background store frontage was a pawnshop is probably correct, as the “Qung Hing Art Co.” pawnshop occupied space at 25 Waverly during the 1890s. The headquarters of the merchant-controlled, Ning Yung district association was located at 23 Waverly.

Yee Ah-Tye

In old Chinatown, merchants’ personal use of bodyguards or alliances with fighting tongs were common. The organization and fragmentation of district and clan associations, along with sharp business competition, often placed lives, as well as livelihoods, at risk. For example, the Kong Chow association traced its origin to about 1853, when the influential community leader, Yee Ahtye (a.k.a. “George Athei”) persuaded members of his Yee clan of Sunning, which had remained in the Sze Yup Co. (after a number of clans split off to organize today’s dominant Ning Yung Association), to finally secede. The action by the Yee clan was joined by clans from Hoiping and Enping counties after a dispute over the presidency of the Sze Yup Co. in 1862. The resulting new association, the Hop Wo, soon challenged the merchant Ah-Tye for the custody of a piece of land on which Ah-Tye had allowed the Sze Yup Association to build a headquarters building. Yee eventually deeded the land to a new Kong Chow Association, which his fellow Sunwui merchants founded in 1866. The dispute over this property raised to such a level that Yee and his associates were compelled to organize a secret society, the Suey Sing Tong, to protect the asset and enforce his decision.

Portrait of Yee Ah-Tye (courtesy of the Chinese Six Companies). Yee was an elite merchant of Chinatown and was considered a co-founder of the Suey Sing Tong.

Born around 1829 in Guangdong province, Yee Ah-Tye had arrived in San Francisco just before the gold rush at around 20 years old. In spite of his humble beginnings, Yee had learned English in Hong Kong and swiftly ascended to a position of authority within the influential Sze Yup [pinyin: "Siyi”] Association. The Sze Yup Association, along with similar Chinese district associations, played a crucial role in assisting newly arrived Chinese immigrants during the 19th century. The organizations provided accommodation and job opportunities.

Aside from his many business accomplishments, Yee famously cross paths with the legendary, San Francisco madam Ah Toy. The conflict arose when Ah Toy accused Yee of demanding a tax from her prostitutes on Dupont Street. Despite her origins in China, Ah Toy had by then lived in America for three years and become familiar with its legal system. She boldly threatened to take legal action against him, a move she would not have dared to undertake in China.

The August 1852 report in the Daily Alta California newspaper highlighted Ah Toy’s shrewdness, emphasizing her knowledge of living in America and her ability to navigate the legal system. She resided close to the police station, fully aware of where to seek protection, having faced legal proceedings herself numerous times. The reporter gleefully suggested that Yee use caution about overstepping his authority, warning that he might lose his dignity and end up in custody.

A year later, Yee faced legal trouble himself, being arrested for assault and grand larceny. The San Francisco Herald alleged Yee “inflicted severe corporeal punishment upon many of his more humble countrymen … cutting off their ears, flogging them and keeping them chained for hours together.”

After moving to Sacramento in 1854, Yee also relocated his business activities in 1860 to La Porte, California, where hydraulic and drift mining operations for gold occurred. Yee acquired a partnership in a store called Hop Sing & Company which supplied merchandise and Chinese contract laborers. By 1866, it was the richest Chinese store in that town, with a value of $1,500 (about $36,000 in 2005 dollars).

According to one of his descendants, Lani Ah Tye Farkas, the pioneer Yee Ah Tye reportedly lived thirty-four years in La Porte as a successful merchant, running the Hop Sing and Company store and representing the Chinese community in the area. He had three wives and four children, three of whom were girls. Unlike most other Chinese fathers at the time, he invested in the education of his daughters – he even bought a piano for his youngest daughter, Bessie, who became an accomplished pianist. As a leader in the Hop Sing Association, he founded a small hospital to serve the elderly Chinese men of La Porte.

“The temple ruins at San Francisco’s Lincoln Municipal Park Golf Course was once part of the Lone Mountain Cemetery, a gift of Ah Tye,” Lani Ah Tye Farkas wrote in 2000. “Other glimpses of his life in America can be seen in deeds, mining claims, tax assessments, newspaper articles, and land that he once owned. Yee Ah Tye’s legacy, however, is in his descendants. Many Chinese with common last names like Chan, Lee, and Wong may have no relationship with one another. However, the descendants of Yee Ah Tye have borne his unique last name through six generations, in the words of the Yee family genealogy, ‘spreading like melon vines, increasing continuously’” Yee died in 1896. (see: https://scholarworks.calstate.edu/downloads/pc289j76z)

Contract Labor

At the lower end of the business hierarchy, the Siyi or Four District residents comprised the largest and least affluent group of Chinese immigrants. They typically occupied occupations such as laundries, small retail shops, and restaurants and the bulk of the laborers in the contract labor system.

In the period preceding the Civil War, there was a concerted effort by certain individuals to introduce contract laborers into the United States. A letter penned by C. V. Gillespie to Thomas Larkin on March 6, 1848, sheds light on this initiative. Gillespie expressed a keen interest in the idea of bringing Chinese emigrants to the country, suggesting that a variety of skilled workers and laborers could be sourced:

“One of my favorite subjects or projects is to introduce Chinese emigrants into this country,… Any number of mechanics, agriculturists and servants can be obtained. They would be willing to sell their services for a certain period to pay their passage across the Pacific….”

The practice of importing contract laborers to the United States began in the late 1840s and continued through the 1850s. However, enforcing labor contracts proved to be a challenging endeavor on American soil. A case in point involved an Englishman who, upon bringing fifteen Chinese laborers to the country bound by a two-year contract, found that they immediately reneged on their agreement upon arrival. Authorities, at the time, were reluctant to intervene in such disputes.

In 1852, Senator George B. Tingley introduced a bill in the California State legislature aimed at legalizing and facilitating the enforcement of contracts allowing Chinese laborers to sell their services to employers for periods of up to ten years at fixed wages. This proposal, however, faced significant public backlash and was ultimately defeated after a heated debate. The subsequent year saw members of Chinese companies admitting that they had initially imported workers during the early years of the Gold Rush. Yet, due to unprofitability and difficulties in enforcing labor contracts, they abandoned this practice.

“San Francisco Chinese Merchant” no date. Photographer unknown, possibly by Ann Ting Gock (from a private collection). This rare and unusual image suggests that the individual might not have been a mere merchant at all, but a member of the Chinese consular staff. He is seen wearing his 清代官帽 (canto: “ching dai gwun moe”) or official’s headwear. The Qing official headwear or Qingdai guanmao (Chinese: 清代官帽; pinyin: qīngdài guānmào; lit. ‘Qing dynasty official hat’), also referred to as the “Mandarin hat” in English, is a generic term which refers to the types of guanmao (Chinese: 官帽; pinyin: guānmào; lit. 'official hat’), a headgear, worn by the officials of the Qing dynasty in China. The merchant is attired in a “changshan” or “changpao” or long robe. The robe worn in the photo was derived from the Qing dynasty-period “qizhuang” (the traditional dress of the Manchu people). Changshan were, and are, traditionally worn for formal pictures, weddings, and other formal Chinese events.

Credit-ticket System

Beyond the initial years, it became widely acknowledged that Chinese immigrants arrived in the United States voluntarily, free from any servile contracts or duress. Many emigrants either financed their own passage or received assistance from relatives and friends already residing in California. The prevailing method for the majority of Chinese immigrants during the 19th century was the credit-ticket system. Under this system, an emigrant would receive financial support for their passage in a Chinese port. Upon reaching their destination, the emigrant was expected to repay this debt using their future earnings. It is important to note that this system differed from the contract labor arrangement, where laborers were bound to serve for a specified duration.

The precise origins of the credit-ticket system remain uncertain. However, merchant brokers in Hong Kong were established to provide advanced passage funds, approximately forty dollars, to the emigrants. Corresponding entities in the United States were responsible for collecting these debts and aiding the newly arrived immigrants in finding employment.

Two merchants with pipes. No date, photographer unknown (from a private collection).

The stores and offices that the merchants of Chinatown had opened starting in the mid-19th century became the basis of real and symbolic power in the growing regional community of Chinese living in the American West. That power, including the ability to mobilize for social change within the narrow role afforded Chinese in the society, manifested itself in the family and district associations headed by local merchants.

“The merchant class has traditionally been the one sector of Chinese society able to foster unity and bring about social change,” wrote historian Thomas W. Chinn about the role of the merchant class in San Francisco Chinatown (and beyond). “The merchant-directors of the Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association must be well-established businessmen in the local community as well as outstanding members of their own family associations. They have already played a leading role in their own social circles before becoming merchant-directors, and they enjoy a great deal of respect… Thus the friendly corner grocer may simultaneously be the president of his family association and his district association as well as a merchant-director.”

Lew Kan

“Children of High Class” c. 1900. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). Merchant Lew Kan (a.k.a. Lee Kan) walking with his two sons, Lew Bing You (center) and Lew Bing Yuen (right). According to historian Jack Tchen, “Lew Kan was a labor manager of Chinese working in the Alaskan canneries. He also operated a store called Fook On Lung at 714 Sacramento Street between Kearney [sic] and Dupont. Mr. Lew was known for his great height, being over six feet tall, and his great wealth. The boys are wearing very formal clothing made of satin with a black velvet overlay. The double mushroom designs on the boys’ tunics are symbolic of the scepter of Buddha and long life.” The photograph appears to have found the trio walking down the south side of Sacramento Street below Dupont Street.

By the time photographer Arnold Genthe had photographed merchant Lew Kan and his two sons on Sacramento Street (as well as two other earlier photos of their four sisters in Portsmouth Square), Lew had already attained legendary status as one of Chinatown’s leading merchants. Born in 1851, Lew entered the US in 1866.

Author Roland Hui (in his biography of pioneer Chinese American industrialist Lew Hing), wrote about Lew Kan and his dry goods business called Lun Sing & Co. at 706 Sacramento Street as follows:

“He started Lun Sing, one of the oldest businesses in Chinatown, around 1867, a year after he immigrated to the U.S. In 1896, the business gained notoriety by harboring a young Chinese revolutionary named Sun Yat-sen during his first visit to the continental United States. Sun advocated overthrowing the Qing monarchy and establishing a Chinese republic. His ideas were too radical for the politically uninitiated Chinese community. Kang Youwei, the architect of the ill-fated “Hundred Day Reform” in China in 1898, favored establishing a constitutional monarchy around Emperor Guangxu. Forced into exile after the power-hungry Empress Dowager crushed his reform, Kang launched the Chinese Empire Reform Association, also known as Baohuanghui (Save the Emperor Society), the following year in Victoria, Canada. Baohuanghui quickly gained widespread support among overseas Chinese since the idea of having an emperor at the top of the social order who ruled with the Mandate of Heaven had been ingrained in the Chinese psyche for thousands of years. The San Francisco Baohuanghui chapter was founded in 1899 at 146 Waverly Place. Lew Kan supported Kang’s political agenda despite having met Sun several years earlier, and in 1901 became the president of the San Francisco chapter of Baohuanghui. Many scholars observed that Baohuanghui was the first organization that evoked the patriotic sentiments of overseas Chinese. And when Liang Qichao, Kang’s most famous student, stopped over in San Francisco during his 1903 America tour, thousands of Chinese flocked to listen to his speeches. As the man who organized these community-wide activities, Lew Kan’s stature and influence in San Francisco Chinatown must have been substantial. In addition, he was one of the wealthiest Chinese merchants, reportedly owning several general merchandise stores with an estimated net worth of $2 million. That was an astronomical sum in those days. In addition, he was a director of the Kong Chow Company, a district association representing Xinhui.“

Decline of Merchant Influence

The organizational expression of Chinatown’s merchant elite, the Chinese Six Companies, wielded considerable authority within San Francisco and beyond. The Six Companies and its constituent district associations comprised the quasi-government of Chinese America, offering social services, mediating disputes, and representing the community’s interests to external forces. With the enactment of the Chinese Exclusion Act in May 1882, their grip on power began to weaken.

Portrait of a merchant with fan and scroll. No date, photograph possibly by Shew’s studio (based on the detail of the end-table), from the collection of the Stanford Libraries.

The decline of the Six Companies’ influence can be attributed to various reasons. One significant factor was their inability to adapt swiftly to the evolving socio-economic landscape within Chinatown. As the community faced new challenges, including the punitive extension of Chinese exclusion with the Geary Act of 1892, the Six Companies struggled to effectively navigate these changes, leading to a loss of faith among the populace in their ability to address emerging issues.

The Geary Act of 1892 extended and strengthened the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, requiring most Chinese Americans – native and foreign-born – to carry an internal passport in the form of certificates of identity or face arrest and deportation. It intensified discriminatory measures against the Chinese community, fostering widespread discontent and resistance.

In response, the Six Companies initiated a national boycott against the Geary Act. The boycott aimed to unify Chinese immigrants and their supporters across the United States, urging them to refuse compliance with the law as a form of protest. It gained substantial momentum, with significant participation from Chinese communities in various cities, voicing opposition to the Act’s discriminatory provisions.

The board of directors of the Chinese Six Companies, no date. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). Based on the screen panels in the background (which remain in the Six Companies’ meeting hall at 843 Stockton Street in San Francisco), the photo appears to have been taken after 1906.

Despite its initial vigor, several factors led to the ultimate collapse of the national boycott against the Geary Act. First, the federal government intensified its efforts to enforce the Geary Act. Authorities conducted widespread raids and inspections, threatening deportation and imposing harsh penalties on those failing to comply. The fear of reprisals and the potential disruption to livelihoods coerced many Chinese immigrants into reluctantly acquiescing to the Act’s demands.

Second, the broader American society exhibited little sympathy or support for the Chinese community’s plight. The prevailing anti-Chinese sentiment in the country and the lack of significant political backing from other institutions diminished the effectiveness of the boycott. Without widespread solidarity, the Chinese American community struggled to sustain its resistance.

Finally, the decision by the US Supreme Court in Fong Yue Ting v. United States, 149 U.S. 698 (1893), dealt a major legal setback to Geary Act resistance and undermined the credibility of the Six Companies. The decision validated the Geary Act and created an environment of fear within the Chinese American community. The inability to overturn the Geary Act by legal means diminished trust in the Six Companies’ capacity to protect the community’s interests.

Photograph of a merchant from Chinese Business Partnership Case File for Quong Lee Company, c. 1896. Photographer unknown (from the files of the Department of Justice, Immigration and Naturalization Service, San Francisco District Office). The immigration investigative case file indicates that the individual in this photo was certified as a business partner certified as a "merchant” and “able to travel to and from the U.S. as a ‘Chinese subject of exempt class’ under the ‘Chinese Exclusion Acts’ (1882-1943).” The Quong Lee & Co. (a.k.a. Quong Lee, Quong Lee Sing) operated what business directories from 1875 to 1905 variously described as a “tailor,” “general merchandise,” “clothing,” and “dry goods” business continuously at 828 Dupont Street. By the time this merchant sat for his photo in 1896, the national boycott led by Chinese merchant organizations against the Geary Act of 1892 had collapsed, and studio portraits such as this became an essential pieces of evidence to support applications for the coveted merchant exemption from the extended Exclusion Act.

This heightened sense of vulnerability played into the hands of tongs, which, capitalized on the weakened merchant community. Amidst the faltering influence of the Six Companies, tongs emerged as influential entities that would come to dominate Chinatown’s socio-political structure and shape mainstream society’s perceptions of the Chinese community for the next three decades.

“High-binders Retreat” no date. Photograph by Goldsmith Brothers (from the Cooper Chow Collection of the Chinese Historical Society of America). Tong members at ease in front of their fraternal order’s headquarters.

Tongs, in contrast to the Six Companies’ diplomatic approach, adopted a more assertive stance in responding to discrimination and persecution faced by the Chinese community. Their readiness to protect their members (which also included merchants), and defy external pressures resonated with many disillusioned residents.

“A Haunt of the Highbinders in Chinatown.” Harpers Weekly, February 13, 1886 (from the collection of the Bancroft Library).

Moreover, the tongs during this period had begun to diversify their activities beyond traditional, illicitl sources of income such as prostitution, gambling, and drug distribution. Tongs began engaging in both legitimate businesses, including labor contracting for the Alaskan canneries. This diversification allowed them to accumulate resources, expanding their sphere of influence within Chinatown and beyond as alternative community governance structures, while still reserving often violent means to protect their interests.

Chinese salmon cannery works in Astoria, Oregon, c. mid-1880s. Drawing from West Shore, June 1887, from the Special Collections, University of Washington). The early 20th century would be marked by violent struggles between tongs such as the Suey Sing and Bing Kung for control over the labor contracting business for the canneries.

The ascendancy of tongs at the turn of the century coincided with the republican movement in China. Historian Phil Choy wrote that the Chee Kung Tong, the original triad society, had been evolving in response to revolutionary movements in mainland China:

“Chee Kung Tong returned to its lofty political ideologies in 1900 when both Kang Yu-wei’s Reform Party and Sun Yat-sen’s Revolutionary Party sought its assistance. Originally the Chee Kung Tong supported Kang Yu-wei, but as Dr. Sun’s ideology gained popularity, the Chee Kung Tong, switched allegiance. When in 1904 immigration officials did not allow entry to Sun, the leader of the Chee Kung Tong, Wong Sam Ark, and the Tong’s attorney Oliver Stidger, along with Reverend Ng Poon Chew and Reverend Soo Hoo Nam Art, worked successfully for his release. Sun stayed at the Chee Kung Tong headquarters and used the society’s newspaper, the Chinese Free Press, to propagandize his revolutionary cause. Accompanied by Wong Sam Ark, Dr. Sun went on a nationwide tour to generate support and contributions.”

The tongs’ economic power and their active involvement in fundraising for the republican movement not only showcased their financial strength but also demonstrated their ability to wield influence as an overlapping and sometimes counter-force with the merchant elite. This dual role as (1) economic powerhouse within the local community, and (2) significant contributor to a revolutionary cause overseas underscored their influence. The growth of that influence came at the expense of the merchant elite in shaping both local and international affairs.

Merchants, however, would continue to exert influence through clan organizations, tongs, business associations, Nationalist Party of China chapters, and Chinese “consolidated benevolent associations” in San Francisco Chinatown and communities across North America through the exclusion era, war, and peace.

The meeting hall of the Chinese Six Companies, c. 1920 (by then incorporated as the Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association) at 843 Stockton Street in San Francisco. Photographer unknown (from the Jese B. Cook collection of the Bancroft Library).

Chinatown’s merchant community would face new challenges to their capacity as civic leaders when the political center of gravity across US Chinatowns would shift again in the last quarter of the 20th century.

[updated 2023-12-28]

“4226 Chinese Accountant, Chinatown, San Francisco, Cal.” c. 1889. Photograph by Isaiah West Taber (from the collection of the Oakland Museum of California).

Abacusmasters: Accountants of old Chinatown

By the time pioneering photographer Isaiah West Taber had released his catalog of “Pacific Coast Scenery, including Alaska and Mexico,” in 1889, his photograph of a duo of San Francisco Chinatown “accountants” and their young helper had already been in circulation, and the image was being reproduced for tourist postcards.

Chinese accountants at work in their store in San Francisco Chinatown. This reprint of I.W. Taber’s photo appeared in Chinese Practices - Indelible Photographs, a small booklet published by Adolph Wittemann and Joseph Hofmann (both publishers of souvenir albums) in 1892.

All three individuals appearing in the photograph confidently gaze into Taber’s lens. The right hand of the man in the center is poised over his abacus[算盤; canto: “shuen boon”], while his colleague at right has paused making entries into a ledger with a Chinese brush pen.

The craft of accounting dates back centuries, and accountants played a pivotal role in facilitating economic activities of pioneer Chinese merchants who began to make their presence felt in California’s first years of US statehood. In professional accountants’ hands, the abacus served as a powerful tool in managing financial transactions in the growing local economy of Gold Rush San Francisco.

A storeowner uses an abacus for bookkeeping in San Francisco Chinatown. No date, photographer unknown (from a private collection).

The abacus, a counting frame with beads or stones, had been used in China since ancient times to perform calculations. Chinese accountants in San Francisco Chinatown skillfully utilized the abacus due to its simplicity, speed, and accuracy, making it an indispensable instrument in their work.

Before the catastrophic earthquake and fire of 1906, San Francisco Chinatown was a bustling hub of economic activity. The community thrived with numerous businesses ranging from laundries, boot and shoe manufacturing, cigar-making, and restaurants to herbal medicine shops and import-export companies. Accountants were instrumental in supporting these enterprises by maintaining meticulous financial records. The abacus allowed for efficient calculations, reducing the likelihood of errors and expediting the accounting process. This tool enabled accountants to manage large volumes of financial data with remarkable speed, precision, and reliability.

Many children of Chinatown’s baby boom generation recall the lightning fast use by most shopkeepers of the abacus in the legacy Chinatowns across North America, and from San Francisco to New York, as an indispensable business tool in an age before electronic payment processing systems. The sound of beads’ movement within the counting frame still resonates in historical memory.

A sidewalk merchant Chinese quarter in Los Angeles, 1915. Photographer unknown (from the Ernest Marquez collection of the Huntington Library). A Chinese man writes at a desk outside, with an abacus next to him, in Los Angeles’ old Chinatown.

“San Francisco – P.M.S.S. Co.’s Wharf- Off for China and Japan” c. 1874. Illustrator unknown (from the collection of the National Parks Gallery).

Ships, Sheds and Wharves: Chinese and the Pacific Mail Steamship Co.

The earliest history of the Chinese in America remains intertwined with the Pacific Mail Steamship Company’s sheds on San Francisco’s wharf and the broader narrative of maritime transportation, immigration, and economic development during the 19th century in California. Founded in 1848 as a response to the California Gold Rush, the Pacific Mail Steamship Company (“PMSSC”) aimed to carry US mail on the Pacific leg of a transcontinental route from the east coast of the US to San Francisco on the west coast via Panama.

Illustration of the steamship SS California, the first ship of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company. Only a few passengers were on board when the ship left New York on October 6, 1848. By the time the ship reached its stop on the Panama’s Pacific coast, word had spread of the great new find of gold in California. Over 700 people tried to get passage on the ship in that harbor. The Pacific Mail agent managed to cram 365 people aboard the ship before it set sail for California. The ship and passengers reached San Francisco on February 28, 1849, where all but one member of the crew deserted the ship for the goldfields. The ship was lost in a wreck off the Peruvian coast in 1894. (Illustrator unknown, from the collection of the US National Postal Museum)

The discovery of gold in the Sierra Nevada in 1849 produced a massive influx of people to California

from all over the world, including China. According to historian Thomas W. Chinn, “Hong Kong was the general rendezvous for departure to California. The emigrants usually stayed at dormitories provided by the passage brokers or at friends’ and relatives’ homes until the day of embarkation. The earliest ships between China and California were sailing vessels, some of which were owned by Chinese… . However, most of the ships in the early days bringing Chinese immigrants were American or British owned. At the time the shipping of Chinese to California was a very profitable business.”

The voyage in sailing vessels across the Pacific varied from 45 days to more than three months. Chinese passengers typically spent most of the voyage below decks in the overcrowded steerage. Conditions aboard the ships varied with the ship and shipmaster. In March 1852, 450 Chinese arrived in the American ship Robert Browne bound for San Francisco objected to the captain’s order to cut off their queues as a hygienic measure. They rebelled, killed the captain and captured the ship. According to Chinn, “health conditions on the bark Libertad were so bad that when she sailed into San Francisco harbor in 1854, one hundred out of her five hundred Chinese passengers and the captain had died during the voyage from Hong Kong.”

In 1866, the Pacific Mail Steamship Company (“PMSSC”) entered the cargo and passenger trade to and from the Orient. As the sole federal contract-carrier for US mail, the PMSSC became a key mover of goods and people and a key player in the growth of San Francisco, California.

“257. Pacific Mail Steamship Company’s Wharf” c. 1869 -1871. Photo and stereoview by Eadweard J. Muybridge (from a private collection). The Pacific Mail’s wharf at the foot of Brannan Street in San Francisco at the approximate location of its old Pier 36. This was the first waterside view of the city for virtually every Chinese immigrant making landfall in San Francisco.

For the first six decades of the Chinese diaspora to the US, the sheds provided the first experience for every Chinese immigrant on California soil.

“Chinese Emigration to America,” no date. Illustrator unknown (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). This illustration shows life aboard a Pacific Mail Steamship Co. ship making the passage from China to San Francisco.

Amidst the Gold Rush and burgeoning industries like mining, agriculture, and construction, Chinese immigrants from southern China flocked to California. The PMSSC’s sheds, located along San Francisco’s waterfront, played a crucial role in handling cargo, passengers, and immigrants who arrived via steamships. Serving as pivotal infrastructure, they provided storage space for goods, customs processing areas, and waiting areas for passengers.

Pacific Mail Steamship Co. dock, c. 1864- 1872. Photograph by Carlton Watkins, probably derived from Watkins Mammoth Plate CEW 611. (from a private collection, the Roy D. Graves Pictorial Collection, Bancroft Library; and the San Francisco National Maritime Museum). In this elevated view east from Rincon Hill to the Pacific Mail dock, sidewheel steamer vessels identified by the SF National Maritime Museum as the SS Colorado (built in 1865 and scrapped in 1879), the steamer SS Senator at right (1865-1882), and various sailing ships are seen with Yerba Buena Island in the background. The Oriental Warehouse (built 1867 and still standing at 650 Delancey Street) is at left. The opensfhistory.org site identifies the three-part wooden structure at center as the Occidental Warehouse, used for grain storage, with blacksmith and boiler shops to the left. Ads for C.C. Hastings & Co. Clothing at Lick House can be seen on the fence.

Even as the Gold Rush waned, the PMSSC initiated in 1867 the first regularly scheduled trans-Pacific steamship service, connecting San Francisco with Hong Kong, Yokohama, and later, Shanghai. This route facilitated an influx of Japanese and Chinese immigrants, enriching California’s cultural diversity.

Pacific Mail Steamship Co. docks, c. 1871. Photograph by Carleton Watkins (from a private collection).

“Disembarking.” Painting by Jake Lee (from the collection of the Chinese Historical Society of America). In this watercolor, one among a suite of paintings commissioned by Johnny Kan for his then-new Kan’s Restaurant on San Francisco’s Grant Avenue in Chinatown, artist Jake Lee depicted a stylized unloading of mostly male passengers at the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. wharf in San Francisco.

When a ship dropped anchor at the dock in San Francisco, the emigrants finally set foot on American soil. A journalist for the Atlantic Monthly in 1869 described the debarkation of 1,272 Chinese as follows:

“… a living stream of the blue coated men of Asia, bearing long bamboo poles across their shoulders, from which depend packages of bedding, marring, clothing, and things of which we know neither the names nor the uses, pours down the plank…. They appear to be of an average age of twenty-five years… and though somewhat less in stature than Caucasians, healthy, active and able bodied to a man. As they come down upon the wharf, they separate into messes or gangs of ten, twenty, or thirty each, being recognized through some to us incomprehensible free-masonry system of signs by the agents of the Six Companies as they come, are assigned places on the long broad shedded wharf [to await inspection by the customs officers].”

A detail from the “Bancroft’s Official Guide Map of San Francisco” of 1873. The lower right corner of the image locates the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. pier at the foot of First Street (at Townsend) running in a southeasterly direction. According to local historian Garold Haynes, “that was before the seawall realignment of the waterfront in the late 1870s.”

“Chinese Immigrants by The San Francisco Custom House” Harper’s Weekly, February 1877. Illustration by artist Paul Frenzeny (from the collection of the Library of Congress). Chinese immigrants wait for processing in the Pacific Mail Steamship Co.’s sheds while more arrivals from China disembark from the gangway seen in the background.

For many of the immigrants arriving on Pacific Mail steamships, the sheds served as the initial point of contact with the United States. Additionally, the sheds served as immigration processing areas, where Chinese immigrants underwent inspections and screenings. The sheds were a crowded and unsanitary place. Immigrants were often forced to wait for days in the sheds before they could be processed. They were also subjected to medical examinations and interrogations by immigration officials.

As the Atlantic Monthly writer described in 1869 described after each group passed through customs, “…They are turned out of the gates and hurried away toward the Chinese quarters of the city hv the agents of the Six Companies. Some go in wagons, more on foot, and the streets leading up that way arc lined with them, running in ‘Indian file’ and carrying their luggage suspended from the ends of the bamboo poles slung across their shoulders …”

In a political cartoon (c. 1888, based on the reference to the Republican Party presidential ticket of 1888 in the upper left corner of the image), Chinese immigrants stream off ships onto the wharves of the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. and the Canadian Pacific Steamship Co. and directly into the factories of San Francisco Chinatown and beyond. Illustrator unknown (from the collection of the Bancroft Library).

“New Arrivals.” Date, location, and photographer unknown. The wagon on which the Chinese are riding, presumably having come directly from the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. wharf to San Francisco Chinatown, appears very similar to the 1877 configuration seen in the upper right corner of the preceding Harper’s Weekly illustration.

The surge in Chinese immigration led to anti-Chinese sentiments, as reported in the illustrated magazines of the era. The arrival was often violent, as hoodlum elements would sometimes throw stones, potatoes and mud at the new immigrants. After the arrival in Chinatown, the newcomers were temporarily billeted in the dormitories of the Chinese district associations (citing Rev. Augustus W. Loomis, “The Chinese Six Companies,” Overland Monthly, os. v. 1 (1868), pp. 111-117).

“Hoodlums” Pelting Chinese Emigrants On Their Arrival At San Francisco” c. 1870s. Illustrator unknown (from a private collection). A rough sketch of the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. sheds appears in the background.

In San Francisco, local efforts to stop Chinese immigrants moved beyond the sheds and onto the arriving ships, which often became the focal points for Chinese litigants in the local and federal courts.

For example, in August of 1874, the Pacific Mail Steamship Company’s vessel Japan arrived in San Francisco carrying around 90 Chinese women. The Commissioner of Immigration boarded the ship and conducted interviews with about 50 to 60 of these women. From his inquiries, he concluded that 22 of them had been brought to San Francisco for “immoral purposes,” as reported by the Daily Alta California on August 6, 1874. When the Pacific Mail Steamship Company refused to provide the necessary bonds, the Commissioner instructed the ship’s master to keep the 22 women on board.

Pacific Mail Steam Ship Company’s Steamer, Japan, c. 1868. Print created by Endicott & Co. (New York, N.Y.), Menger, L. R., publisher (from the collection of The Huntington Library). Junks in the foreground, and, to the left in the background, Hong Kong’s Victoria Peak with semaphore at top appears in the background, center right. The SS Japan is flying the American flag from its stern, a Pacific Mail house-flag from the middle mast, and a pennant with the vessel’s name from the aft mast. A flag flying from the first mast appears to be a red dragon on a yellow field. Print includes vessel statistics and the name of the builder, Henry Steers.

Promptly, attorneys representing the detained women sought legal recourse by requesting a writ of habeas corpus from the state District Court in San Francisco. For two days, legal representatives from various parties engaged in debates over whether the Commissioner’s authority under the law was valid and whether the so-called “Chinese maidens” were indeed involved in prostitution. Reverend Mr. Gibson, who claimed expertise in this area, confidently asserted that Chinese prostitutes could be easily identified by their attire and behavior, likening the distinction to that between courtesans and respectable women in the city. He concluded that only half of the women were destined for prostitution. Ultimately, the District Court ruled that all the women should remain detained and ordered them to stay on the ship.

Shortly before the ship Japan was set to depart, the County Sheriff boarded and brought the 22 women ashore based on a writ of habeas corpus issued by the California Supreme Court. Two weeks later, Justice McKinstry, in a brief opinion on behalf of the court in Ex Parte Ah Fook, 49 Cal 402 (1874), affirmed the lower court’s decision, validating the Commissioner’s authority as a legitimate exercise of the state’s police power.

“258. Steamship Japan in California Dry Dock, Hunter’s Point, San Francisco”c. 1869. A side view of the steamship Japan of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company at the dry dock at Hunters Point. Photograph by Thomas Houseworth (from the Marilyn Blaisdell Collection). The ship would become the setting for a controversial habeas corpus case involving the entry of 22 Chinese women over the objections of state authorities in the case of Ex Parte Ah Fook, 49 Cal 402 (1874).

A third writ of habeas corpus presented the matter to the United States Circuit Court, presided over by Justice Stephen J. Field and Judge Ogden Hoffman. During the oral arguments, Justice Field made it clear that he wouldn’t dismiss constitutional arguments as easily as the state Supreme Court had, emphasizing the principle of equal treatment for citizens and non-citizens.

The Pacific Mail Steamship Co. derrick and coal yard in San Francisco, c. 1871. Photograph by Carleton Watkins (from the collection of the California Historical Society).

In the ruling, Justice Field discharged the petitioners, stating that California’s statute surpasses a state’s legitimate police power and violates the principle of “the right of self-defense.” He noted that the statute could exclude individuals who posed no immediate threat to the state. Judge Hoffman, in a concurring opinion, went further, suggesting that the states should have no control over immigration due to the exclusive nature of the commerce clause.

Although the Circuit Court decision released the Chinese women, while limiting the state’s power over Chinese entry, the Japan case reinvigorated California’s efforts to deter Chinese immigration. The influx of Chinese immigrants coupled with high unemployment in the late 1870s allowed Dennis Kearney of the Workingmen’s Party to target the Chinese as scapegoats. The “Chinese must go” movement gained traction, with both the Republican and Democratic parties adopting anti-Chinese stances.

The Pacific Mail Steamship Co.’s wharf in San Francisco. Photograph by Carleton Watkins (from the collection of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco).

During the San Francisco Riot of 1877, the sandlot mob attacked the wharves of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, because this shipping line represented the primary mode of transportation for America-bound Chinese immigrants headed to California. Although the steamships were not burned, the wharves were partially wrecked. Rioters also burned the lumber and hay yards adjacent to the Pacific Mail wharves.

“The Anti-Chinese Wall – The American Wall Goes Up as the Chinese Original Goes Down.” Illustration by Friedrich Graetz in Puck of March 29, 1883 (v. 11, no. 264). The cartoon portrays a multi-ethnic coalition gathered on the wharf to halt Chinese immigration in the aftermath of the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act in May 1882.

California was able to transfer its racial grievances and resentments to the national stage, culminating in the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882. This marked a turning point in the history of Chinese immigration and had profound effects on the Chinese-American community. The Act severely restricted Chinese immigration to the United States.

The use the PMSSC’s sheds posed significant challenges to federal and state attempts to enforce the Exclusion Act (and its punitive extension in the Geary Act of 1892), against all Chinese, regardless of birth or immigration status.

As an article in the San Francisco Call of May 12, 1900, details, the chaotic scene at the Pacific Mall dock where Chinese immigrants disembarked from the ship Coptic was typical for that era. In the Coptic case, federal officials were observed allowing the landing of alleged “coolies” despite the spirit of the exclusion act, causing outrage. The detention shed, initially meant for temporary housing, had become a long-term residence for over 370 Chinese immigrants, generating substantial profit for the PMSSC. The maintenance of this facility posed several concerns, including violations of health regulations and potential disease outbreaks. The Call decried the authorities’ negligence in enforcing the law and highlighted the role of a Chinese “ring” in facilitating fraudulent practices and illegal immigration. With multiple ships arriving with more immigrants, the newspaper called for investigation and reform.

Headlines from the The Call of May 12, 1900, regarding the crowd of detained Chinese immigrants disembarked from the Pacific Mail ships Coptic and America Maru, the lack of security in the Pacific Mail sheds, and alleged immigration fraud.

Illustrations and photographs from the San Francisco Call of May 12, 1900, for its report about the crowd of detained Chinese immigrants disembarked from the Pacific Mail ships Coptic and America Maru, the lack of security in the Pacific Mail sheds, and alleged immigration fraud.

For Chinese and other immigrants and travelers from Asia, the transpacific journey, and even entering San Francisco Bay itself, posed hazards. The dangers were never more evident than in the case of the SS City of Rio de Janeiro. Launched in 1878, this steamship had been an essential component of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company’s fleet. Its routes connected pivotal locations such as San Francisco, Honolulu, Yokohama, Japan, and Hong Kong, and the ship had played a role in America’s expansion into the Far East and the Pacific in the aftermath of the Civil War and during the Spanish American War.

“A Thousand Boys in Blue S.S. Rio de Janeiro bound for Manila” copyright 1898. Published by M.H. Zahner (from the collection of the Robert Schwemmer Maritime Library). Built by John Roach & Son in 1878 at Chester, Pennsylvania, this vessel had served as a vital link between Asia and San Francisco, regularly transporting passengers and cargo. This stereograph shows its charter by the federal government for use as a military troop transport during the Spanish American War.

On the morning of February 22, 1901, the SS City of Rio de Janeiro commenced its approach to the Golden Gate and the entrance to San Francisco Bay. They had sailed with a crew that was mostly Chinese. History indicates that approximately 201 people were aboard the Rio de Janeiro, as follows: Cabin passengers 29; second cabin, 7; steerage (Chinese and Japanese), 68; white officers, 30; Chinese crewmen, 77. Of the Chinese crewmen, only two spoke English and Chinese. During the long voyage, the ship’s officer gave orders by using signs and signals. The ship’s equipment and lifeboat launching apparatus appeared to be in good working order and were capable of being lowered in less than five minutes.

Near the location of the future location of the Golden Gate Bridge, tragedy struck as the SS City of Rio de Janeiro. In the dense morning fog that obscured the surroundings, the ship collided with jagged rocks on the southern side of the strait, near Fort Point. The vessel’s non-watertight bulkheads led to rapid and unstoppable flooding. In a mere ten minutes, the SS City of Rio de Janeiro succumbed to the relentless forces of the sea.

The majority of the passengers, many of whom were Chinese and Japanese emigrants in steerage, were caught unaware in their cabins as the ship sank. The toll was staggering, with 128 lives lost out of the 210 souls on board. Of the 98 Asians reportedly on board the ill-fated ship, only 15 passengers were rescued, and 41 Chinese crewmen survived.

The SS City of Rio de Janeiro in Nagasaki, Japan, c. 1894. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park). The ill-fated ship, which transported passengers and cargo between Asia and San Francisco, sank seven years later after running into rocks near the present site of the Golden Gate Bridge. The never-salvaged shipwreck rests 287 feet underwater.

The sinking of the SS City of Rio de Janeiro represented the deadliest maritime disaster at the San Francisco Bay’s entrance, forever etching its name in the annals of maritime history as the “Titanic of the Golden Gate,” drawing a sad parallel to another infamous shipwreck. Today, the case serves as a reminder of the unpredictable forces of nature and the inherent dangers of maritime travel to which thousands of Chinese immigrants and other Asian travelers subjected themselves to gain a better life in America.

“Chinese Passengers on Deck, 1900–15,” enroute to Hawaii. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the Hawaii State Archives). Chinese passengers, some eating from rice bowls, crowd the deck of a steamship. After the Exclusion Acts, the numbers of Chinese voyaging to the US had decreased sharply.

Despite reduced immigration due to the passage of successive exclusion acts in 1882 and 1892, the PMSSC’s sheds remained operational, their purpose shifting from off-loading immigrants to facilitating trade and commerce between the east and west coasts of the US.

The Pacific Mail Steamship shed on the San Francisco waterfront at the turn of the century. Photograph attributed to Arnold Genthe. Located at the former pier 36, where Brannan Street runs into the Embarcadero, the immigration station was moved to Angel Island in 1910. Pier 36, the last of the docks at Brannan was torn down in 2012. In just one year, 1852, 25,000 Chinese entered California for the Gold Rush and other opportunities. Chinese America began here.

The convergence of the Central Pacific and Union Pacific railroads in Utah in 1869, had started the process of eroding the Pacific Mail’s profitability on the Panama-to-San Francisco route over the ensuing decades, eventually leading to the sale or redirection of many of its ships to other routes.

The Pacific Mail Steamship Co. offices on the southeast corner of Market and First streets in downtown San Francisco, c. 1896. Photographer unknown (from a private collection).

The landscape changed drastically in 1906, when a devastating earthquake and subsequent fire struck San Francisco, including the PMSSC’s wharf facilities. Although destroyed during 1906 disaster, the PMSSC’s sheds were rebuilt shortly thereafter. The sheds continued to be used for detaining and interrogating Chinese immigrants until the opening of immigration station facilities on Angel Island in 1910 for the processing Chinese and other immigrants.

A detail from the August Chevalier Map of 1915. The PMSSC sheds were located on Pier 36 at the intersection of Brannan and First Street.

The legacy of the PMSSC’s sheds, intertwined with their role at the inception of Chinese immigration to California and the US, is deeply rooted in San Francisco’s maritime and Chinese American history. Both the company’s operations and the experiences of the first wave of the Chinese diaspora arriving on American shores by steamships will remain forever part of the socio-economic dynamics of 19th-century San Francisco and the American West.

“Chinese Immigrants by the San Francisco Custom House” c. 1877. Detail of the magazine cover illustration by artist Paul Frenzeny for the Harper’s Weekly (from the collection of the New York Public Library.

[updated 2023-10-17]

Ross Alley, pre-1906, no date. Photographer unknown (from a private collection).

Legendary Ross Alley

Telling any story about Ross Alley remains difficult because so much material has been written or produced about one of the most iconic small streets of San Francisco’s pre-1906 Chinatown. The Chinese referred to the old Stouts or Ross Alley as “old Spanish lane” or 舊呂宋巷 (canto: “Gauh Leuih Sung Hong”). The literal translation today would be “Old Luzon Lane.” This may have represented the use of a Chinese colonial name for the Philippine archipelago in referring to the Spanish-speaking residents who inhabited this part of the city before the Chinese became the dominant population of today’s Chinatown neighborhood.

An urban pioneer family of four walks north on Ross Alley toward Jackson Street, no date. Photographer unknown (from a private collection). Wooden planks covered the alleyway’s surface during the 1870’s.

Unfortunately, the origins of Ross Alley have been muddled, even by mythologizing by Chinatown organizations in the 20th century when Ross and other alleyways were remodeled and several historical plaques were installed. Contrary to Chinatown revisionism, the Chinese did not create and construct Ross Alley.

Street in Chinatown, San Francisco. Completely Burned. No. 2168,” published c. 1906. Photographer unknown for the Photo. Co. of America, Chicago. The street is the pre-1906 pawnshop row along the north side of Washington Street at the southern entrance to Ross Alley. The pawnshop signage for the On Wing (安榮) store at 828 Washington appears in the center of the photo.

In an attempt to dispel the confusion about the alleyway’s origin story, Hudson Bell writes in his walking tour blog as follows:

“While it is true that an exploration of Chinatown reveals a maze of alleys unlike other districts of San Francisco, the reason has nothing to do with the factors mentioned on Ross [Alley’s historical] plaque. The truth is that most all of the alleyways in Chinatown date back to the time of the California Gold Rush of 1849, when the exploding population was centered around and pushing out from the Plaza, that is Portsmouth Square, otherwise known as ‘the cradle of San Francisco.’

“Ross Alley is named for Charles L. Ross, one of the city’s pioneer merchants, who built a house next to where the alley is all the way back in 1847, when the town was still known as Yerba Buena. The alley itself was not instituted until the later part of 1849 however, and was originally called Stout’s Alley, as at the time Dr. Arthur Breese Stout, one of San Francisco’s pioneer physicians, had turned the old Ross residence into a hospital.”

Bell’s concise article about Ross Alley’s origins may be read here: https://fernhilltours.com/2016/06/28/ross-alley-the-truth-about-chinatowns-side-streets/

The southern entrance to Ross Alley on the north side of Washington Street, flanked by pawnshops. Photographer unknown, no date (from a private collection).

The alley was a hub of activity for Chinatown’s underground economy, with at least 21 gambling houses operating openly by the time the City of San Francisco released its “vice map” in July of 1885.

Ross Alley as depicted on the July 1885 map commissioned by the San Francisco board of Supervisors (from the Cooper Chow collection at the Chinese Historical Society of America).

“The Street of the Gamblers (by day)” c. 1896 -1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). For this southerly view of Ross Alley from Jackson Street, historian Jack Tchen wrote as follows: “As evidenced by the traditional papier-mache garlands hanging above the doorway on the building to the right, this photograph was taken around New Year’s, when seasonal workers were laid off, inundating Chinatown streets with thousands of idle workers. Their cotton tunic tops and cloth shoes are Chinese, but the pants and felt homburg-style hats are strictly Western. Genthe’s title … is accurate insofar as Ross Alley had many gambling rooms, but it unfairly ascribes a sinister quality to these men.”

“The Street of the Gamblers (by night), c. 1896 – 1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). Based on the position of the lanterns and small awning structures, the nocturnal view of Ross Alley appears to look northerly toward Jackson Street. As befitting the gambling locale in Chinatown, Genthe captured in the lower left corner of the frame small signage bearing the Chinese maxim: 接財梅引財神, literally “receive the God of Wealth” (canto: “zeep3 choy mui yan choy sun”). Historian Jack Tchen writes about this photo as follows: “Genthe tried to capture scenes of Chinatown’s active nightlife with shots like this of Ross Alley. Here he was able to photograph who were obviously in a relaxed, happy mood. In [his book] As I Remember, Genthe writes about Ross Alley’s ‘rows sliding solid iron doors to be clanked swiftly shut at the approach of the police’.”

“Dupont St. Wood Carriers of Chinatown Sf Cal.” c. 1890. Photograph by A.J. McDonald (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection). Wood carriers appear poised to turn left onto Ross Alley from Washington Street. The signage in the upper left-hand corner of the frame advertise the location of the Hang Lee & Co. pawnshop or “Pervasive Profit” pawnshop (亨利押; canto: “hung lei aap”), at 830 Washington Street, at the northwest corner of Washington Street and Stouts (or Ross) Alley. Also, the barely discernible signage for the On Wing (安榮) pawnshop slightly down the eastern incline of the street at 828 Washington can be seen in the upper center of the photo.

The residents of old Chinatown preferred to hold liquid assets in the form of gold or gems because of the relative ease with which they could arrange loans from pawnshops when they needed cash urgently. The neighborhood’s pawnbrokers located their shops in strategic proximity to houses of gambling and/or prostitution, with particular concentrations of shops on Washington and Jackson Streets.

The below-street grade location of the Hang Lee & Co. pawnshop at 830 Washington Street on the northwest corner of the intersection of Washington Street and Ross Alley, c. 1900. Photograph by Henry H. Dobbin (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection).

“Ross Alley from Washington Street (Arnold Genthe’s title: “The Alley”). A pawnshop’s sign appears at the right of the image. Historian Jack Tchen wrote about this image as follows:

An underground culture flourished along the narrow alleys and in the back rooms of Tangrenbu.[*] While the merchants controlled the major avenues of commerce and transportation, the tongs controlled the alleys. Ross Alley was lined with establishments for playing popular gambling games, such as pi gow* (baigepiao) – lottery tickets, or the “the white pigeon ticket,” much like the American game of keno – fantan [*], in which bets were waged on how many of a pile of beads would be left when reduced by fours; and caifa, a riddle guessing game… . For many outsiders, this underground culture had an air of the sinister about it. For the Chinese it was simply an everyday fact of life, bound up with the survival of the community.”
– From Genthe’s Photographs of San Francisco’s Old Chinatown, Selection and Text by John Kuo Wei Tchen. [Notes: * 牌九 = (canto) paai4 gau2; ** 唐人埠 = (canto) tong4 yan4 faauh; *** 番攤 = (canto) fan1tan1]

“Ross Alley Chinatown 1904.” Photograph by Henry H. Dobbin (from the collection of the California State Library). At right, the sign for the 巨興 (canto: “Geuih Hing”) or “Great Prosperity” pawnshop can be seen.

The sheer volume of press accounts of gambling and homicides occurring on Ross Alley complicates understanding of the alley’s history. Throughout the early 1900s, Ross Alley remained embroiled in gang-related activities, including several high-profile assassinations and robberies involving prominent members of the Chinese community. The alley was a hotspot for gambling dens and opium use, which attracted the attention of law enforcement, leading to numerous raids and arrests.

As documented in a representative sampling by Andy Chan (a former CHSA.org registrar) from news articles from the San Francisco Call newspaper between 1900 and 1906, Ross Alley became the focal point of conflicts between the Hop Sing Tong and Suey Sing Tong, two rival Chinese organizations vying for power and influence. Police collusion with the criminal combines hampered public safety management of the escalating feud, as the police were suspected of accepting bribes from Chinese men, leading to the suspension of patrolmen.

In March 1900, a high-profile murder occurred in Ross Alley when Chin Ah Suey, a member of one of the Tongs, was assassinated by a “highbinder” (a non-Chinese term for Chinese gangsters). This incident brought attention to the growing violence and crime within the Chinese community. The tensions between different Chinese factions and the police corruption issues in Chinatown came to a head in 1903 when several Chinese merchants and community members filed lawsuits against the Chief of Police, accusing him of being involved in fraudulent activities related to gambling dens.

“164 Highbinders’ Retreat SF. Calif”c. 1890. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the San Francisco Public Library).

In 1904, another major event occurred in Ross Alley when Lee San Bow, who claimed to have information about a Chinatown scandal, disappeared mysteriously. In 1905, a tong war erupted between the Hop Sing Tong and the Hep [sic] Sing Tong, resulting in several murders and a wave of violence in the area. The police were implicated in providing protection for gambling dens, thereby fomenting more distrust between the Chinese community and law enforcement. The Louie Poy homicide as reported in the San Francisco Call on September 27, 1905, typified the cases in this era (and also illuminated one of the occupational hazards to pawnbrokers who advanced bail money).

From the San Francisco Call of September 27, 1905:

Louis Poy, one of the most desperate and feared Highbinders in Chinatown, was shot and instantly killed last night in Ross Alley near Jackson Street by Highbinders. The murders had their plans well laid and made their escape without leaving a clue.

Poy was walking along Ross alley at about 7 o'clock in the evening when two highbinders stepped out of a doorway, and one of them fired point blank into the victim’s head. The bullet entered his right temple and he fell face forward to the street. To be sure of their prey they stood over their victim and fired two more shots at Poy as he lay lifeless on the sidewalk. One of them entered his back and the other penetrated his hand. The highbinders made their escape through a pawnshop nearby. Detective McMahon, Sergeant Ross and Policeman George Downey were on the scene a few minutes afterward. It was evident that the plot was well laid as the homicides made good their escape. The only evidence left behind was the 44-caliber revolver which was used to do the deed.

Poy lived with his mother and sister at 742 Washington street, and was 26 years old. He was considered one of the most desperate Highbinders and had been one of the ringleaders in many tong wars that have occurred in the Chinese quarter for the last eight years. He was a member of the Suey Sing Tong for many years until a few months ago, when he and twenty other Highbinders were expelled from the organization.

The police believe he was murdered by Suey Sing Tong highbinders. Though they called a meeting last night and offered a reward for his layers it is though that this is done to mislead the police. He recently testified for the prosecution in a case the Educational Society was prosecuting and this is believed to have led to his death.

In March 5, 1900, in the trouble with the Suey Sings and Sing Luey Yings, Poy was a ringleader. A Sing man was killed by a Ying highbinder and a suspect was arrested. He was afterward released on bail. The Suey Sings suspected Tuck Wo, a Jackson street pawnbroker, as having furnished the bail money. Wo was killed shortly afterward and Poy was suspected of having done the deed.

In March 29, 1904, Poy and another highbinder, Quan Yim, fought a pitched battle with Low Ying and Low Sing on Baker alley, in which fifty shots were exchanged, but no one was wounded. Poy was accused of having shot at Yup Sing last January.

The police have connected him with numerous murders in Chinatown, but were unable to convict him. Invariably when a good case was against him the witnesses were bought off and would leave the city or refuse to testify.

Despite law enforcement efforts to combat gambling and other illegal activities in Chinatown, the situation persisted, leading to further arrests and clashes between different Chinese factions. The history of Ross Alley during this period is characterized by a complex web of rivalries, violence, police corruption, and illegal activities, making it a notorious part of San Francisco’s Chinatown. It serves as a reflection of the challenges faced by the Chinese community in the city during the early 20th century, as they struggled to maintain their cultural identity while dealing with exclusion, segregation, discrimination in virtually all aspects of American life, and the resulting social and political pressures.

“Ross Alley from Jackson Street,” c. 1898. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). Historian Jack Tchen has written about this photo as follows: “The wooden box affixed to the wall on the left was for disposing of paper scraps. [Arnold] Genthe inaccurately entitled this photograph “Reading the Tong Proclamation.” According to many guide pamphlets and books written during this time, these notices proclaimed who would be the next victims of tong “hatchet men.”* In actuality, they reported a variety of community news.”
[*斧頭仔; canto: “foo tau jai”]

In 1906, the San Francisco earthquake and fire devastated the city, including Chinatown. The neighborhood was slow to recover, and Ross Alley was no exception. Practically all of the buildings were destroyed. In the years that followed, the neighborhood struggled to regain its former vibrancy.

Two northerly views on Ross Alley toward Jackson Street, June 8, 2022, and October 3, 2021. Photos by Doug Chan.

Today, Ross Alley is not only a means for Chinatown residents to move efficiently to the neighborhood’s principal streets but also a popular tourist destination and a symbol of the vibrancy of San Francisco Chinatown’s once and future street life.

Southerly view of Ross Alley, July 22, 2023. Photo by Doug Chan. Today, the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory draws visitors to the alley and Chinatown from around the world.

Coda: Ross Alley’s Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory

The northerly view of Ross Alley from mid-block during tourist season, July 22, 2023. Photo by Doug Chan. Patrons line up to experience the Golden Gate Fortune Factory. At center, red-colored saw horses used for lion dance routines help maintain pedestrian circulation through the alleyway.

In his book, San Francisco Chinatown: A Guide to its History & Architecture, the late historian Philip P. Choy wrote about the precursors to Ross Alley’s most prominent business in the late 20th and 21st centuries, the Golden Gate Fortune Cookies Co., as follows:

“Today Ross Alley is famous for the Golden Gate Fortune Cookies Co. [sic], where the only remaining old-fashioned fortune cookie machine in Chinatown is still use [sic]. This is a “must-see” for tourists.

“With the popularity of Chinese dining came the fortune cookie. Like “chop suey,” no one knows when it was introduced into Chinatown. Both the Chinese and Japanese take credit. Thus the legend of the Chinese fortune cookie crumbles.

“Jennifer B. Lee, in her article in the New York Times (1/16/08), reported the researcher in Japanese confectioneries Yasuko Nakamachi uncovered an 1878 book illustrating a man attending multiple round iron molds with long handles resting on a rectangular grill over a bed of charcoal, much like the way fortune cookies were made for generations by small family bakeries near the Shinto shrine outside Kyoto, Japan.

“Confectionery shop owners Gary Ono of the Benkyodo Co. (founded 1906) and Brian Kito of Fugetsu-do of Los Angeles (founded 1903) claim their grandfathers introduced the fortune cookie to America. Erik Hagiware-Nagata mentioned his grandfather Makato Hagiware [sic] made the cookie at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. The daughter of David Jung claims her father the cookie at their Hong Kong Noodle Co. founded in 1906 in Los Angeles.“

Locals and tourist mix outside the Golden Gate Fortune Coookie Factory, the last of its kind in San Francisco Chinatown, July 26, 2023. Photo by Doug Chan.

“At one hundred years old, Eva Lim remembered that while visiting the Tea Garden in the 1920s, her father bought her a package of the cookies but they were flat, not folded, without the fortune. She was fascinated watching a woman baking the cookies with two waffle-like irons through the window of a market at the northeast corner of Dupont and Pacific Avenue.

“Originally the batter was baked in individual molds made In Japan, and the cookie was folded by hand when it hardened. The late dentist Dr. Gene Poon described his father’s home operation in the early 1930s, with seven to ten electrically heated units set in a U-shaped assembly line. Each unit was like a waffle iron with two round castings. During World War II, his father, Bing Cheong Poon, went to work in the shipyard but continued making cookies at night. Gene used to deliver them Fong Fong Bakery (established 1937), Eastern (established 1924), and the sidewalk stalls.

“Apparently in Chinatown, fortune cookies were a homemade commodity until the mechanized carousal [sic] machine was invented by the Japanese and manufactured in Los Angeles. Kay Heung Noodle on Beckett Alley (founded 1933) by Charles Harry Soo Hoo used such a machine, which had multiple molds placed in a roughly seven-foot-diameter circle. Workers sat outside the circle, individually picked the soft pliable cookie, and folded the fortune. Eastern Bakery bought the machine began to make its own cookies in 1940.

“Coming to America in 1952, Franklin Yee worked for ten years before saving enough money to go into business for himself. Yee started his Golden Gate Fortune Cookies Co. in 1962, when most existing fortune cookie bakeries had already switched to a completely automatic system. Lacking funds, Yee stayed with the old-fashioned machine. He remembers clearly that in his initial operation, his sales were only $5.00 a day. From this humble beginning, he turned the business into a main tourist attraction.

“How and when the Chinese fortune cookie remains a mystery but it is clear that the Chinese made the cookie.”

Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory proprietor Kevin Chan (in ball cap) poses with (l. to r.) CHSA president Doug Chan, Myron Lee, and documentary producer Contessa Gayles during filming of the Vox documentary about San Francisco Chinatown’s aesthetic as part of its “Missing Chapter” series. (see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiX3hTPGoCg)

As old as Chinese America itself, Ross Alley remains a testament to the resilience of the city’s Chinese community and a reminder of the important role that Chinatown played in the history of San Francisco.

“Ross Alley, Chinatown” 1886. Oil painting by Edwin Deakin. The painting depicts a Chinese New Year’s celebration at the southern end of Ross Alley as viewed from Washington Street and the pawnshops flanking the entrance to the alleyway. Deakin included at the top of the painting the triangular standard of the Qing emperor flying from atop a building on Jackson Street.

In its latest incarnation, legendary Ross Alley is known now as one of Chinatown’s "cute date” venues. See reporter Han Li’s feature here: (or go to the following URL: https://sfstandard.com/2023/08/15/chinatown-date-ideas-san-francisco-cookie-boba-art/?fbclid=IwAR2IHBKCMJff2QZWEA7_3u5m9jKcjpv-3gTnRYl8P9vhsN4EQjGqAARh1vI)

“Jewish Balloon Man” c. 1896 – 1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). Two Chinese men and a child inspect the offerings from a balloon seller at the northwest corner of the intersection of Dupont and Jackson streets, just outside the Globe Hotel.

Balloon Men of Old Chinatown

In the 21st century, online research is more likely to produce a plethora of entries about a Chinese spy balloon rather than the balloon sellers of pre-1906 Chinatown. Nevertheless, the photographic images of the non-Chinese balloon and toy vendors remain worthy of examination and consideration.

Toy balloon vendors plying their wares in old Chinatown, in addition to the storefronts of non-Chinese owned or operated businesses, provided a modest counter-narrative to the perception that the neighborhood represented an entirely foreign enclave. Historian Jack Tchen has written that “[s]everal white novelty peddlers on Dupont Street sold to tourists visiting Chinatown and the Barbary Coast. In contrast to the the often antagonistic relations between the Chinese and the irish and Italians, little conflict occurred between Jews and Chinese. Reportedly, two German Jewish brothers, known as the ‘Sa Ling Brothers,’ ran a store on Dupont Street and even spoke fluent Cantonese.”

Even a notorious exoticist as Arnold Genthe, who went to great lengths to crop or scratch out non-Chinese figures and businesses from his photos of old Chinatown, could not resist taking his own photographs of balloon sellers catering to the whimsy of the 1,000 to 2,0000 children who lived in old Chinatown by the turn of the 20th century.

Buying Balloons or “The balloon man” c. 1897. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collections of the California Historical Society and the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). In this wider angle shot, a balloon seller working in Chinatown shows his wares to two boys and four girls. Based on the children’s attire (especially the headdresses worn by the girls), the photo was probably taken around the New Year holidays when children were seen walking freely around the neighborhood.

“The Balloon Man” c. 1897. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collections of the California Historical Society and the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).

The California Historical Society’s Director of Exhibitions, Erin Garcia, wrote about CHS’ copy of Genthe’s published print of his photo, The Balloon Man, as follows:

“In The Balloon Man, one of many photographs by Arnold Genthe (1869–1942) in the California Historical Society’s collection, we find ourselves transported to San Francisco’s Chinatown at the dawn of the twentieth century on a holiday. Children dressed in finery and group of men gather on a street corner around a balloon seller. Floating near their heads are three shiny orbs, rendered with a metallic luster on the gelatin silver photographic paper. The image is strangely dark and moody despite the festive subject matter and this piques my interest. The children should be delighted, but we cannot see their faces. The somber tone continues throughout the composition with the children surrounded by a mass of men in dark clothing. The balloon vendor is so darkly printed in his black coat and hat that he is practically indistinguishable from the background. All we see of his bouquet of balloons are the two attached to his stick; the rest hover above, beyond the frame of the photograph. We are not permitted to see the spectacle nor the reaction of those watching it. Instead Genthe wants us to focus on the children, in their bright clothing, like lights shining amid an indistinct darkness.“

A child and a balloon man, c. 1889. Photographer unknown (taken in the manner of Sam Cheney Partridge?) from the Jesse B. Cook collection at The Bancroft Library. A third identifiable balloon seller working in Chinatown shows his wares to a boy

The Balloon Man” c. 1896 – 1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). Genthe’s close-up print of a wider angle image. Two Chinese men and a child inspect the offerings from a balloon seller at the northwest corner of the intersection of Dupont and Jackson streets, just outside the Globe Hotel. The residential hotel would gain notoriety as the location where the first case of bubonic plague would be diagnosed in 1900.

One can only speculate how language barriers and cultural differences might have made communication more difficult, but the wonder of a rubber balloon to a child probably transcended such barriers for the sale.

Two girls and a boy speak with a balloon seller, no date. Photographer unknown (from a private collection). The façade seen in the background in the left was probably the entrance and second floor balcony of the Yoot Hong Low restaurant at 810 Clay Street. The vague outline of cable car tracks appears on the cobblestone street seen behind the girl at left.

“Two Girls with Balloons” c. 1900. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). The girls seen bringing home their balloons are probably attired for, and during, the Chinese New Year holiday. The older girl is wearing Qing-era platform shoes intended to emulate the walking style of a bound-foot woman.

“The Toy-Balloon Man” c. 1896. Illustration by Theodore Wores for his magazine article, “Children of Chinatown in San Francisco.”

Artist Theodore Wores wrote for the magazine St. Nicholas, vol. 23, no. 7 (May 1896) about New Year’s time and balloons as follows:

“About the time of the Chinese New Year Chinese children are particularly favored, and the fond fathers deny them nothing. The little ones always appear to be well provided with pocket-money to buy toys and candies.

“As a result, not only the Chinese shopkeepers, but peddlers of other races, reap a rich harvest about this time by selling toys and novelties. The seller of toy-balloons seems very popular, and is surrounded by boys and girls eager to buy the fascinating rubber globes.”

A detail from the photo “Returning Home” c. 1896-1906. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). The father and daughter holding a balloon are walking west up the hill on the 800-block of Clay Street.

After the devastating 1906 earthquake and subsequent reconstruction of San Francisco’s Chinatown, balloon sellers made a pleasant return to the streets, perhaps symbolizing resilience and continuity. Their reappearance undoubtedly conveyed a sense of familiarity and nostalgia, reminding the returned families of joyous moments, past and those to come, on the streets of old Chinatown.

A mother and four children examine the wares of a balloon and toy peddler at a corner of Grant Avenue, c. 1910. Photographer unknown (from a private collection).

The presence of non-Chinese balloon sellers in pre-1906 San Francisco Chinatown added an extra layer of diversity and charm to the community. Their presence represented the intermingling of cultures, fostering a sense of curiosity and wonder among residents and visitors alike. Thanks to the pioneer photographers of the old neighborhood, balloon sellers became part of the vibrant visual tapestry of old Chinatown, offering to a new generation perhaps a glimpse of the broader world beyond Chinatown’s segregated borders and introducing a new form of entertainment.

“Balloon Man of Chinatown San Francisco 1904.” Oil painting by Mian Situ. Arnold Genthe’s "Jewish Balloon Man” photo taken at the northwest corner of Dupont and Jackson streets (including the architectural detail of the old Globe Hotel at the top-center of the image), served as the inspiration for this work by modern artist Situ.

“A group photograph of Lepers, taken at the ‘pest house’" c. 1880s. Photographer unknown, albumen print with Schoene’s imprint (from a private collection).

Chinese Lepers and San Francisco’s “Pesthouse”

The rare photo of a group of Chinese quarantined ostensibly for leprosy remains notable not only for its profound sadness but also serves as evidence of the shameful weaponization of public health and medical scapegoating of the early Chinese community in San Francisco.

“To the sanitarians of the 1870s,“ Joan B. Trauner wrote in 1978 for the California History journal, “Chinatown was more than a slum. It was ’laboratory of infection,’ peopled by ‘lying and treacherous’ aliens who had minimal regard for the health of the American people. The general acceptance of the germ theory in the 1880s did little to dispel the popular belief that epidemic outbreaks were directly attributable to conditions within Chinatown. As before, medical theorization was inseparably linked with social attitudes and prejudices… . Proposals to quarter the Chinese outside of the city limits of San Francisco were advanced at this time, primarily under the sponsorship of the Anti-Chinese Council of the Workingmen’s party. Similar proposals had been set forth since the 1850s and would recur again in the 1800s and at the time of the bubonic plague crisis in the early 1900s.”

The Wasp, Vol. 8, No. 304, published on May 26, 1882. Created by George Frederick Keller (from the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum).

In the last quarter of the 19th century, local officialdom deflected criticism of their repeated failure of sanitation programs and policy by attributing various outbreaks of smallpox, syphilis and bubonic plague to the residents of San Francisco’s Chinatown.

Thus, the presence of lepers in the Chinatown area produced great concern for both the medical community and the general public. It was observed that by 1875, a significant number of lepers with particularly repulsive appearances had migrated to San Francisco from different parts of the state. Although a few sought treatment at the Twenty Sixth Street Lazaretto (at Army Street), public health officials believed that the majority were concealed in underground dens of Chinatown.

During the 1870s and early 1880s, according to Trauner, very little was known about the causes of leprosy. It was assumed to be hereditary, contagious, incurable, more prevalent among males than females, and possibly something that could be eradicated through improved hygiene. One city health officer, John L. Meares MD, suggested in 1876 that leprosy among the Chinese population was “simply the result of generations of syphilis, transmitted from one generation to another.”

Others believed that leprosy was inherent in the Chinese people and had been spread to the Caucasian race through the smoking of opium pipes that had been handled by Chinese lepers.

“5964 White women in Opium Den, Chinatown, S.F. Copyrighted by I.W. Taber, May 31st 1892 (from the Marilyn Blaisdell Collection). This and another photo were staged with an actor playing a Chinese man, looking at two women asleep on couches.

“5965 White women in Opium Den, Chinatown, S.F. Copyrighted by I.W. Taber, May 31st 1892 (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). This and another Taber photo were staged with an actor playing a Chinese man, looking at two women asleep on couches.

As early as 1871, the Chinese were accused of introducing the feared “Mongolian leprosy”” to the West Coast. During the leprosy scare of the 1870s, health officers decided that lepers should not receive hospital care at the city’s expense. Dr. A. B. Stout, a prominent physician on the Board of Health, supported the admission of Chinese individuals to the city hospital. He believed there was no reason to exclude Chinamen and argued that they had an equal right to demand hospital admission. However, others strongly objected, considering it an outrage to mix Chinese individuals, suffering from various unclean and incurable diseases, with civilized citizens. Although local authorities were hesitant to admit Chinese patients to municipal facilities, they were also reluctant to provide sanitary services within Chinatown.

Instead, they insisted that the Chinese associations should take care of them and send them back to China. Thus, each district association (or “wui gwun”) in San Francisco maintained a small medical facility for their elderly or sick members. The facilities were often simple and minimal, consisting of just a few empty rooms furnished with straw mats. Despite violating city health codes, local officials permitted their operation. In 1876, an amendment to California’s general police law was passed, making it illegal for individuals with leprosy to have regular contact with the general population. It stipulated that such individuals should be confined to “lazarettos” or lepers’ quarters. From August 1876 to October 1878, known lepers were housed in these Chinese “hospitals.”

Professor Guenter B. Risse, MD, PhD, who has written extensively about the politicization and weaponization of public health and about disease throughout San Francisco and US history, wrote about the fear-mongering and racialization of leprosy against the Chinese as follows:

On the morning of September 19, 1878, Charles C. O’Donnell, a physician with dubious credentials and the leader of the rabidly racist Anti-coolie League, seized a Chinatown dweller grotesquely afflicted with highly visible leprous sores. Forcing the man to mount an open delivery wagon, this practitioner turned politician proceeded to parade the disgraced individual through the streets of San Francisco. Stopping at several key downtown intersections before reaching Market Street and reaching the swanky Palace Hotel, O’Donnell harangued a growing and terrified crowd, emphasizing the great danger of contagion posed by his repulsive “moon-eyed leper ” At the same time, pamphlets were distributed featuring the drawing of a Chinese face ravaged by the disease and proclaiming the existence of “a thousand lepers in Chinatown.”

The pamphlet issued in the Fall of 1878 by Charles O'Donnell of the Anti-Coolie League (from the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library of Yale University).

In 1878 and again in 1883, health authorities took action in Chinatown, identifying the lepers and relocating them to the Twenty-Sixth Street Hospital. This decrepit facility, also known as the “Leper Asylum” or “Pest-House,” primarily served the purpose of housing Chinese patients with leprosy and smallpox. This policy accomplished the purpose of segregating Chinese patients to this hospital and eventually repatriating all Chinese lepers to China.

“A Group of Lepers at the Door of the Pesthouse,” Drawing published in the San Francisco Call, July 1, 1896. Illustrator unknown (from the California Digital Newspaper Collection).

“Pesthouse Annex.” Drawing of the isolation establishment with a view of the surroundings, trees, and fence, as well as two inmates. The rickety building housing chronic cases, notably leprosy sufferers, is propped up with supporting beams; the roof is caving in and there are holes in the walls. Drawing published in the San Francisco Call, January 3, 1896 (from the California Digital Newspaper Collection).

The city-sponsored “pesthouse” remains a little-known and unattractive part of San Francisco history. The usage of terms such as “lazaretto” or even “hospital” was calculated to mask an undesirable disease and the offensive affliction of a despised segment of the population. Administrators began referring to the institution as the “leper hospital” and eventually simply as the “26th Street hospital.” However, and as author Guenter B. Risse has observed, one frustrated health official, Martin Regensburger, the president of the San Francisco Health Board, proclaimed in the early 1890s that the Pesthouse was aptly named, as it truly represented its nature. Upon seeing the deplorable state of the 26th Street compound, Regensburger protested and suggested that it would be better to keep afflicted individuals in their homes rather than send them to a dilapidated facility.

“Patients Awaiting the Coming of the New Remedy in the Corridor of the Pesthouse.” Drawing published in the San Francisco Call, July 1, 1896 (from the California Digital Newspaper Collection).

As Trauner wrote 35 years ago, the federal quarantine law of February 15, 1893, gave the United States Marine Hospital Service direct responsibility for administration of port quarantine. The new federal law triggered a series of jurisdictional disputes between the quarantine officer of San Francisco and officers of the Marine Hospital Service into the next century and hindered effective administration of quarantine procedures.

Unfortunately, the politicization of disease and demonization of Asians has continued to this day – heard in the rhetoric of a US president who repeatedly referred to COVI-19 as the “China” virus and the “Kung Flu” to applauding crowds around the country.

A Board of Health inspector meets with patients at the San Francisco Pesthouse. Drawing published in the San Francisco Call, January 3, 1896 (from the California Digital Newspaper Collection).

As for the Chinese men seen in the old Schoene photo, little is known about their fate. Out of the 128 lepers admitted to the 26th Street lazaretto between July 1871 and April 1890, 115 were classified as “Mongolians,” and, ultimately, 83 of them were sent back to China.

For further reading:

Trauner, Joan B., “The Chinese as Medical Scapegoats in San Francisco, 1870-1905,” California History, Vol. 57, No. 1, The Chinese in California (Spring, 1978), University of California Press.

Risse, Guenter B., Driven By Fear: Epidemics and Isolation in San Francisco’s House of Pestilence (Univ. Illinois Press 2016).

“St. Louis Alley – Chinatown San Francisco,” 1898.  (Painting by J.H.E. Partington from a private collection).  

St. Louis Alley and Chinatown’s Colorful Past

To the Chinese of old San Francisco Chinatown, St. Louis Alley or Place was known as 聖路易巷 (canto:  “Sing Low Yick Hong”).  The origin of its alternate name, 火燒巷  (canto: “Faw Siu Hong”; lit. “Fire Lane”) may have been coined because of the occurrence of numerous fires in the alley.  

“Court in Chinatown San Francisco,” 1886.  Painting by Edwin Deakin (from the collection of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Bequest of Edith Clark Mau).  This painting has been identified elsewhere as St. Louis Alley, and its general features appear to match an illustration by J.H.E. Partington made a dozen years later.  Partington’s image depicted a steeper street incline, consistent with Jackson Street’s east-to-west slope.  

Theresa Salazar of The Bancroft Alley wrote about St. Louis Alley as follows:

“One of the most fascinating collections at The Bancroft Library are the scrapbooks compiled by Jesse Brown Cook, who served in the San Francisco Police Department from the late 1880s to the 1930s. Before the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake and Fire he was the sergeant of the “Chinatown Squad,” which patrolled Chinatown. His scrapbooks document life there, from the everyday activities of its immigrant inhabitants to the more exotic and forbidden conduct behind its hidden, secretive inner walls. Cook went on to serve as Chief of Police after the 1906 earthquake and was later appointed to the Police Commission. In his reminiscences about San Francisco’s Chinatown before the earthquake, he provides descriptions and anecdotes about the names given by the Chinese community, including St. Louis Alley:  ‘Duncan [Duncombe] Alley is off Jackson Street, below Stockton, and is known as Fay Chie Hong, or ‘Fat Boy Alley.’  This was named after a young boy living on the street who, at fifteen years, weighed about 240 pounds. A little way below, on the opposite side of the street, was St. Louis Alley. In the early days of Chinatown there was a large fire in the alley which burned up quite a number of houses. The Chinese, therefore, called it ‘fire alley,’ or ‘Fo Sue Hong’" (San Francisco Police and Peace Officers'’ Journal, June 1931).

Prior to the quake and fire of 1906, St. Louis Alley could be accessed from Jackson Street in the heart of San Francisco’s Chinatown.  Starting at Jackson Street, St. Louis Alley extended southward, running parallel to Dupont Street and Ross Alley for a portion of its length. In the middle of the city block, the alley made a left turn to the east, becoming narrower while leading towards Dupont Street where it terminated between stores occupying 921 and 923 Dupont. 

“Shop in Chinatown SF Cal.” c. 1892 - 1895. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the San Francisco History Center of the San Francisco Public Library).  A boy stands outside the Tuck On Long & Co. (德安隆; canto: “Duck On Loong”) general merchandise store located at 921 Dupont Street in old San Francisco Chinatown. The history of this shop, situated at the left side of the entrance to St. Louis Alley from Dupont Street, has been lost to historical memory.  However, the identification of the business (a.k.a. “Tuck On Lung”) is made possible by the appearance of the three-character Chinese signage seen above the boy standing in the entrance to the store. The Chinese name was traced to the Horn Hong & Co. directory of 1892 with cross-referencing to the San Francisco Municipal Reports of 1892 (p. 172) and the 1895 Langley directory’s Chinese business listings. Barely visible along the right edge of the frame is a partial view of the corner and northern side of the building facing the narrow passageway of St. Louis Alley which ran east to west from Dupont Street between the buildings located at 921 and 923 Dupont (before a 90-degree turn right in the mid-block to the north toward Jackson Street.

Detail from the Official Map of Chinatown from July 1885 commissioned by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors (from the Cooper Chow collection of the Chinese Historical Society of America).

“A High Binder, San Luis Alley, San Francisco, Cal.” c. 1902.   Photographer unknown (from the Cooper Chow collection at the Chinese Historical Society of America).  The photo’s title was derived from its appearance on page 17 of the January 1902 issue of the Railroad Trainmen’s Journal, a union publication. (see here)  Given the narrowness of the alleyway shown in the photo, one can surmise that the photo was taken with an easterly view from the alleyway toward its terminus on the 900-block of  Dupont Street, with a lookout man posted at an entrance to a longtime gambling den on the south side of the alleyway or the right of the photo.  

This configuration of St. Louis Alley placed it strategically in close proximity to the bustling main thoroughfare of Chinatown, allowing easy access to the various shops, businesses, and other establishments that populated the area.  

As the city’s 1885 map depicts, those other establishments on St. Louis Alley included at least several gambling operations which figured prominently in the life of the alley, as well as in other parts of Chinatown.  The gambling houses offered to a largely bachelor society a variety of games such as fan-tan, poker, and mahjong as places of entertainment and recreation.  

“Gambling Den at San Francisco,” no date.  Illustrator unknown (from a private collection).  Fan-Tan, or fantan (traditional Chinese: 番攤; pinyin: fāntān; Jyutping: faan1 taan1; lit. ‘repeated divisions’) is a gambling game long played in China. It is a game of pure chance.  The game is played by placing two handfuls of small objects on a board and guessing the remaining count when divided by four. After players have cast bets on values of 1 through 4, the dealer or croupier repeatedly removes four objects from the board until only one, two, three or four beans remain, determining the winner.  The name “fantan” emerged in the mid-nineteenth century, prior to which the game was referred to as “掩錢” (yǎnqián) meaning “covering coins,” “攤戲” (tānxì), “攤錢” (tānqián), or “意錢” (yìqián). It gained prominence during the Late Qing and Republican period in Canton and the Pearl River Delta region. Following 1850, due to substantial Cantonese emigration, fantan found its way overseas, including America, where it became particularly popular among Chinese migrants, primarily of Cantonese origin.

Jacob Riis, in his famous book about the underbelly of New York, How the Other Half Lives (1890), wrote of entering a Chinatown fan-tan parlor: 

“At the first foot-fall of leather soles on the steps the hum of talk ceases, and the group of celestials, crouching over their game of fan tan, stop playing and watch the comer with ugly looks. Fan tan is their ruling passion.” The large Chinatown in San Francisco was also home to dozens of fan-tan houses in the 19th century. The city’s former police commissioner Jesse B. Cook wrote that in 1889 Chinatown had 50 fan-tan games, and that “in the 50 fan tan gambling houses the tables numbered from one to 24, according to the size of the room.”

“Tan Gamblers Surprised” no date. Photograph by Sam Cheney Partridge. 

The San Francisco Call newspaper on July 25, 1899, described one well-known gambling parlor as follows:

“On St. Louis alley, six doors from the corner of Jackson street, is a tall building with heavily barred windows and massive doors.  This is the home of the Fook Tai lottery and so certain is this company that it can violate the law with impunity that its doors are wide open and throngs of Chinamen pass in and out, buying tickets and watching the daily drawings.  St. Louis alley is a narrow runway which winds around from Jackson to Dupont street – so narrow that four people can scarcely walk abreast through it.  Go there between 9 and 10 o’clock in the evening and the alley will be found so crowded with Chinamen that it is almost impossible to force a passage way through.  These Chinamen are there for the purpose of purchasing tickets to the drawing which takes place at 10 o’clock.  There is no attempt to disguise the nature of the place, and while white men are barred by the man at the head of the stairs it is not a difficult matter for a white man to so disguise himself that he will be admitted.”  

“Fook Tai Lottery Office,” as drawn for a news article in the San Francisco Call newspaper of July 25, 1899.  

Prostitution was another unfortunate reality in St. Louis Alley and the broader Chinatown district. Chinese immigrant women, often lured or forced into the trade, worked in brothels or as street prostitutes. They faced exploitation and lived in deplorable conditions, driven by economic hardships and limited opportunities for respectable employment. The presence of brothels and the commercial sex trade underscored the difficult circumstances faced by Chinese women and the social inequalities prevalent during that time.

A report from the July 25, 1897, edition of the San Francisco Call was typical for this era in Chinatown’s history:

Two Chinese girls under 16 “Kept as slaves in a vile house on St. Louis alley”  The Society for the Protection of Children

“St. Louis alley is one of those blind alleys so numerous in Chinatown, and is especially adapted to the hiding of girls.  It runs in from Jackson street toward Washington, but stops half way and joins a cross alley, known as Nun Kuk alley, which runs in from Dupont street.  These two alleys are a various levels, and it is necessary to ascend and descend several short flights of steps in traversing them.  At the junction are piles of lumber and debris of various kinds. The entire alley is lined with dens of different kinds, and communication by electric bells is had from house to house.  When the raid was made these bells could be distinctly heard ringing in the other houses and lights went out as if shut off by an electric switch-board.”

Fortunately, artist Charles Albert Rogers captured a pair of scenes of everyday life in the small L-shaped street.

“Chinese Carpenter at Work, St. Louis Alley, 1901.”  Painting by Charles Albert Rogers (from the collection of the Bancroft Library).  Based on newspaper descriptions, the carpentry shop in St. Louis Alley was located at the junction of St. Louis Alley with the narrow east-west passageway which connected the alley with Dupont Street.  Theresa Salazar, a curator for The Bancroft Library, has written about this painting as follows:  “Charles Albert Rogers chooses a more serene moment for his painting, depicting a sole Chinese artisan at work. The view of the alley accurately captures Chinatown’s makeshift buildings, which were typical of structures predating the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, reflecting not only quick rebuilding after the numerous fires that plagued the city, but the rapid growth of the area in the second half of the nineteenth century.” 

“Chinese Kitchen, St. Louis Alley,”  1902.  Painting by Charles Albert Rogers (from the collection of the Bancroft Library).  The kitchen shown in Rogers’ painting might have been the same kitchen shown on the city’s 1885 map at the west end of the alleyway from Dupont Street before the small street turned north toward Jackson Street. The 1901 telephone directory for the Chinese phone exchange shows at least one Chinese restaurant located in St. Louis Alley.

“No Likee” c. 1896 -1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  According to historian Jack Tchen, this photo supposedly is “looking north toward Jackson Street.  Many migrant workers lodged here during the off seasons.  The man in the foreground is shielding his face from the camera, obviously uncomfortable with a stranger taking his picture.”    

The devastating earthquake and subsequent fire that struck San Francisco on April 18, 1906, brought widespread destruction to Chinatown, including St. Louis Alley. The neighborhood was ravaged, and much of its infrastructure was reduced to rubble.  However, the short stretch of north-south alleyway was rebuilt at its original location in the community’s rush to reestablish itself in the same location before the city could move its Chinese population elsewhere. When entered from its northern end on Jackson Street, the alley dead-ends in the middle of the block, as its east-west passageway to Grant Avenue was built over.  

St. Louis Place as viewed from its northern “end” at Jackson Street, June 8, 2023.  Photography by Doug Chan

Today, St. Louis Alley is known as the home of Leung’s White Crane Dragon and Lion Dance Association at 32 St. Louis Place and the Lim family association. 

One of the operational lion heads used by Leung’s White Crane Dragon and Lion Dance Association at 32 St. Louis Place in San Francisco Chinatown, July 23, 2021.  Photograph by Doug Chan.

St. Louis Alley appears to hit a dead end at the southern end of the alleyway where the entrance to one of San Francisco Chinatown’s many clan association buildings. (Photograph by Doug Chan, December 26, 2023). However … 

 The easterly view and passageway from the southern end of St. Louis Alley in San Francisco Chinatown. (Photograph by Doug Chan, December 26, 2023.)  When Chinatown was rebuilt after the disaster of 1906, the reconstruction of the buildings fronting on St. Louis apparently preserved a portion of the west-east alleyway that formerly provided an egress onto what is now Grant Avenue.  The alleyway appears to run into the west-facing rear of the building at 915 - 925 Grant Avenue are occupied (at its uppermost floors), and presumably owned, by the Suey Sing Chamber of labor and commerce” (formerly the Suey Sing Tong).  

As its street sign attests, its Chinese name 聖路易巷 (canto: “Sing Low Yick Hong”) survives to this day.  The operations of the lion dance troupe assure that St. Louis Place remains a part of Chinatown’s present as a vibrant cultural enclave, showcasing the resilience and contributions of the Chinese community in San Francisco.

[updated:  2023-12-12]

“Clay St. West of Kearny SF 1873 - First Cable Car in the World”
In this elevated view west on Clay Street to the Clay St. Cable RR cable car at Kearny Street Terminus, Portsmouth Square can be seen on the right. Signage for the R. Cutlar Dentist, H. Traube watchmaker and jeweler at left.   This photo is a detail from Carleton Watkins’ stereo card number 2368 (Variant) under the original title: “Clay St. Hill R.R., San Francisco, Cal. Run by A.S. Hallidie’s patent Endless Steel Wire Rope and Gripping Attachment. Overcomes an Elevation of 307 feet in a length of 2800 feet. Worst grade, one foot in six”  (from the Marilyn Blaisdell Collection).  The photo is also notable as one of the very few photographs showing a pre-1906 Chinese resident in the same frame as a cable car.

Chinatown at the Advent of the Cable Car

This year San Francisco marks the sesquicentennial of its cable car system.  In the late 19th century, San Francisco experienced rapid urbanization and faced the challenge of its hilly terrain. Traditional horse-drawn streetcars struggled to navigate the steep inclines, necessitating an innovative transportation solution.

In the predawn hours of August 2, 1873, Andrew Smith Hallidie introduced the first successful cable car system in the world. The cable cars utilized an underground cable mechanism to propel the cars along tracks, overcoming the city’s hilly landscape. This new mode of transportation revolutionized urban mobility and played a pivotal role in San Francisco’s development.

California and Montgomery streets, c. 1889.  Photographer unknown (from the Martin Behrman Negative Collection / Courtesy of the Golden Gate NRA, Park Archives).  The view is west on California across Montgomery, as an Omnibus Railway Co. horsecar #11 passes the Parrott Building, or Parrott Block (1852, Architect Stephen Williams) seen in background.  A Chinese man is walking south at the northeast corner of the intersection.  The signs for the offices of Equitable Life and Dr. William F. McNutt at 405 Montgomery are visible at right.  

The introduction of cable cars in San Francisco had a profound impact on the Chinese community. Several cable car lines conveniently passed through Chinatown, allowing Chinese residents to access transportation. The cable cars provided a reliable means of travel for the community, connecting them to other neighborhoods and employment opportunities initially for domestic workers serving the mansions atop Nob Hill and eventually throughout the city.

Clay Street Cable Car, c. 1873.  Photograph by Carleton Watkins and published as “Pacific Coast. 2369″ and by Taber Photo (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection).  In this startling image, patrons and car operators can be seen posing on or alongside cable cars on Clay near Jones Street, except for at least two Chinese men seated in the car at left.  Their faces were lost to history because one man placed his hat over his face, while the other inclined his head to avoid the camera’s lens. Watkins’ image may be the only extant image showing urban pioneer Chinese actually riding an early cable car, possibly to their jobs as domestic servants for the mansions on Nob Hill.

Watkins’ stereo card bears the legend: “Clay Street Hill R.R., San Francisco, Cal. Run by A.S. Hallidie’s patent Endless Steel Wire Rope and Gripping Attachment. Overcomes an Elevation of 307 feet in a length of 2800 feet.  Worst grade, one foot in six. 2369”  Photograph by Carleton E. Watkins (from the collection of the San Francisco Public Library).

“At the Corner of Dupont and Jackson Streets” c. 1896 -1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  A cable car on the Jackson Street line can be seen at right.  “Two girls wearing embroidered holiday wear are crossing the street,” as historian Jack Tchen wrote in his book about Genthe’s Chinatown photos.  “The store behind them is a ‘Chinese and Japanese Curios’ store located at 924 Dupont Street, southwest corner.  The good-quality, expensive vases in the window display and the sign in English indicate that the store catered especially to tourists.  Some such stores were owned by Japanese, but the main reason that both Chinese and Japanese goods were sold in the same store was that the general public could not distinguish between the two cultures.”   (NOTE:  Tchen’s location of the address at 924 Dupont appears incorrect, as the photo depicts the west or odd-numbered side of the street. The building bearing an address of 943 Dupont actually occupied the southwest corner of the intersection with Jackson Street.  Directories of the time indicate that the Tong Yuen Lai confectionary operated at the 943 address during the 1890’s.  By the 1905 publication of the Chinatown phone directory, the Jong Mee Cigar Store had either co-located or operated solely at the address.)    

The cable cars, particularly the Clay, Sacramento, California, and Jackson street lines, had played a significant role in fostering economic growth within Chinatown. 

“B 3096 Clay Street Hill, Chinatown, San Francisco” c. 1885.  Photograph by Isaiah West Taber (from the Marilyn Blaisdell Collection).  In this view east on the south side of Clay Street, and just above Dupont, the trees of Portsmouth Square can in the distance at left, a horsecar can be seen on Kearny and an original Clay Street cable car.  The large billboard for Globe Business College and Conservatory of Music in distance. The large vertical sign in Chinese denotes an herbalist or apothecary store.

The view east on Clay Street, c. 1888. (Photographer unknown from the collection of the California Historical Society).  A cable car is in the process of crossing Dupont Street and heading west up the hill.  The balconies of the Yoot Hong Low restaurant appear at left. 

“161 Street Scene in Chinatown,” no date.  Photographer unknown (from a private French collection).  A cable car can be seen traveling west on Clay passing Stockton Street. 

“Chinese Quarter, San Francisco, Cal.” c. 1891. Photograph by A.J. McDonald (from a private collection).  A cable car is seen passing the 800-block of Clay Street between Dupont St. and Waverly Place.  The decorated balconies of the Yoot Hong Low restaurant can be seen at center.  

“Carrying New Year Presents” c. 1900-1905. Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, The Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). A cable car can be seen on the hill just behind the head of the young woman in the photo.  She appears to have been a servant to the family of prominent merchant Lew Kan. The boy in the photo is Lew Bing Yuen, the older son, who also appears in Genthe’s well-known photo “Children of the High Class.”

After transformation of post-1906 Chinatown into the “Oriental City,” this urban transit network remained crucial the neighborhood’s integration with the citywide economy.  Tourists and locals utilized the cable car system, and Chinese-owned businesses along, and in proximity to, the cable car lines experienced increased patronage. This urban mobility represented by the cable car system, even after its reduction to only two lines, has sustained the Chinese community from it pioneer beginnings to this day.  

“San Francisco Cable Car Lines at the Fullest Extent of Operation (1890s)”  (courtesy of the Cable Car Museum). As the Cable Car Museum advises here, “Clay Street Hill Railroad was the sole cable car company for 4 years. A former horsecar company, Sutter Street Railroad, developed its own version of Hallidie’s patented system and began cable service in 1877, followed by California Street Cable Railroad -1878, Geary Street, Park & Ocean Railroad -1880, Presidio & Ferries Railroad -1882, Market Street Cable Railway -1883, Ferries & Cliff House Railway -1888, and Omnibus Railroad & Cable Company -1889.”  At its peak, the San Francisco companies had laid “53 miles of track stretching from the Ferry Building to the Presidio, to Golden Gate Park, to the Castro, to the Mission.”

For the Chinese families who began to populate the eastern slopes of Nob and Russian Hills (and the garment workers in the small sewing factories along Pacific Avenue west of Stockton Street), the cable cars served as their principal transit system until the establishment of bus routes such as the Pacific Avenue shuttle (championed by Phil Chin and his Chinatown Transportation Improvement Project crew a half-century ago), and now known as the no. 12 Folsom/Pacific line.  The clang of cable car bells and the snap of the cable in the tracks remain an integral part of the soundtrack of at least two generations of Chinese children who grew up in the greater Chinatown area. 

Cable cars symbolized the vital role of urban transportation in fostering connections and opportunities – providing convenient travel options for the residents of Chinatown, maintaining the neighborhood’s economy during hard times, and tying the segregated Chinese community to the larger city.

“Convergence of Cultures” oil painting by Mian Situ.

[updated 2023-8-14]

“161 Street Scene In Chinatown” c. 1885.  Photograph by A.J. McDonald (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection and the Oakland Museum of California).

Fatherly Images from Old Chinatown

Fatherhood is a timeless concept that transcends borders and cultures. Within the vibrant tapestry of San Francisco’s Chinatown during the pre-1906 era, the fathers of the community played a vital role in shaping the lives of their children and preserving the rich heritage of their ancestral homeland. Through their dedication, sacrifice, and unwavering commitment, these fathers navigated the often daunting challenges of a hostile, white supremacist polity while preserving their cultural traditions and nurturing a sense of identity within the first of what would be several new native-born generations produced by successive waves of the Chinese American diaspora. 

“A Street Scene in Chinatown.  San Francisco. Cal.” c. 1890.  Stereograph by A.J. McDonald (from the collection of the OMCA).

Life in San Francisco Chinatown during the late 19th and early 20th centuries represented a complex tapestry of adversity and opportunity.  The city’s first Chinese Americans faced discrimination, segregation, and the weight of economic privation. Yet, despite these obstacles, at least the photographic record presents the fathers of old Chinatown as beacons of strength and resilience for their families.

“B 4227 Chinese Tenement house, San Francisco, Cal.” c. 1884. Photograph by Isaiah West Taber (Martin Behrman Negative Collection / Courtesy of the Golden Gate NRA, Park Archives also from the California State Library).  A Chinese father (or, as some viewers have more sinisterly implied, a “guardian”) for seven children and mother, posed on stairs leading to second floor entrance. A second man stands to left of the bottom of the stairs.

“B 5404 An Alley in Chinatown, San Francisco, Cal.” c. 1885.  Photograph by Isaiah West Taber (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection).  

Cigar-smoking father and child crossing from what appears the northeast corner of Waverly Place and Clay Street, c. 1889.  Photographer unknown (from the Jesse B. Cook collection at the Bancroft Library).  In the background, the lanterns and façade of the Tin How temple appear on the west side of Waverly Place.  

“Exterior View of Chinatown, San Francisco,” c. 1889.  Father and child crossing a street.  Photograph by Sam Cheney Partridge and printed by W.B. Tyler (from the collection of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco).

“Exterior View of Chinatown, San Francisco,” c. 1889.  Father and child crossing a street, probably Dupont.  Photograph by Sam Cheney Partridge and printed by W.B. Tyler (from the collection of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco).

Merchants in Chinatown carried the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. They built successful businesses, often establishing general stores, herb shops, or import-export enterprises. These fathers not only provided for their families’ needs but also played a significant role in fostering economic stability within the community. They managed the intricate dynamics of trade, built networks, and navigated the challenges of language and cultural barriers. Through their entrepreneurial spirit, these fathers demonstrated perseverance, resourcefulness, and a commitment to creating a better future for their children.

“Children of High Class” c. 1900.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Merchant Lew Kan (a.k.a. Lee Kan) walking with his two sons, Lew Bing You (center) and Lew Bing Yuen (right).  According to historian Jack Tchen, “Lew Kan was a labor manager of Chinese working in the Alaskan canneries.  He also operated a store called Fook On Lung at 714 Sacramento Street between Kearney [sic] and Dupont.  Mr. Lew was known for his great height, being over six feet tall, and his great wealth.  The boys are wearing very formal clothing made of satin with a black velvet overlay.  The double mushroom designs on the boys’ tunics are symbolic of the scepter of Buddha and long life.”

Father and child c. 1889.  Photographer unknown (from the Jesse B. Cook collection at the Bancroft Library).  

On the other hand, fathers working as laborers in Chinatown faced arduous working conditions and limited job opportunities. Many found employment in industries such as laundries, restaurants, or as laborers on the Central Pacific Railroad. These fathers toiled tirelessly to ensure their children had a better life than their own, often enduring long hours and physically demanding work. They displayed immense determination, resilience, and selflessness as they braved harsh conditions and discriminatory practices.

Young girls crossing the cable car tracks on Clay Street at the northeast corner of its intersection with Dupont under the watchful eye of their father, c. 1890.  Photographer unknown (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection). 

“S.F. Chinatown 1898.”  Photographer unknown (from the Martin Behrmann Collection of the GGNRA).  The daughters’ festive attire suggests that this image was taken during the Chinese New Year holidays.  The incline of the hill, the appearance of the lanterns hanging from the double-balcony façade of the Yoot Hong Low restaurant at the right of the photo, and the cable car tracks in the background indicate that the trio were walking east on Clay Street and crossing Dupont Street from the southwestern to the southeastern corner of the intersection.  

Regardless of their occupation, fathers in Chinatown shared a common goal: providing for their families and instilling values in their children. They recognized that education was the key to unlocking doors of opportunity and breaking free from the confines of poverty, if not segregation. Despite facing language barriers and limited resources, these fathers encouraged their children to pursue knowledge and acquire skills that would help them succeed in the ever-changing landscape of America.

Chinese American men and child in front of building with hanging lanterns, Chinatown, San Francisco, c. 1896 - 1906.  Father and infant conferring with a smoking man on the sidewalk in front of a store.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).

Fatherhood in old Chinatown was also a testament to the unwavering support and sacrifice made for the well-being of the family. Many fathers left their homes and families behind in China, enduring years of separation to seek better opportunities in the United States. Their commitment to their families was demonstrated through their remittances, which provided financial stability and, for a lucky few during the Exclusion era, allowed their loved ones to join them in the new world.

“A Holiday Visit” c. 1897.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  According to historian Jack Tchen:  “The baby is wearing Western shoes.  The girl with the balloon is a member of the SooHoo family.  She was one of three sisters and four brothers.  She later married a Jung and had eight children.  After the earthquake, her father was a carpenter for white families who needed skilled craftsmen to restore their houses.”

Father follows two children with another father and infant seen on the corner in the background, c. 1900.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection). This image has been corrected from the opensfhistory.org website. 

Father and child walking north on Dupont Street, c. 1900.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection).  The darker signage in the upper right reads: 仁安堂衛生鋈酒  (canto: “Yan On Tong wai saang yook jau”; lit. “Benevolent Peace hall hygienic liquor”).

“New Year’s Day in Chinatown” c. 1900.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  “Nearly half of Genthe’s Chinatown photographs were taken during some community holiday,” historian Jack Tchen has written.  “The merchant and child are walking westward up Clay Street just above Waverly Place. The lantern directly in line with the boy’s head is a sign for the Siyi [四邑; canto: “sei yap”], or Four Districts, Association located at 820 Clay Street.”

A father holds his child as he converses with two men whose faces are shadowed in front of a sidewalk stall.  No date, photographer unknown (from a private collection).

“Paying New Year’s Calls” c. 1900.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  The two men and children appear to be walking south on Dupont Street and crossing to the southeastern corner of its intersection with Clay Street.

One can infer from the many photos that Arnold Genthe and other photographers took of fathers and holiday-garbed children that the photographers captured activities around the second day or “beginning” of Chinese New Year (開年; canto: “hoi nien”; pinyin: “kāinián”), including paying visits (or 拜年; canto: “bye nien”) to relatives for the renewal of family ties and to close friends for relationship-building.

“Scene in Chinatown San Francisco” c. 1900.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection).

Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Historian Jack Tchen wrote about this image as follows:  “… In [Genthe’s book] Old Chinatown this photo was entitled ‘He Belong Me.’  The bull’s-eye sign further down Washington Street indicates a shooting gallery. This block was only half Chinese.”  The window signage seen in the immediate background shows W.D. Hobro, “Gas & Steam Fitting,” at 728 Washington Street, across from Portsmouth Square, ca. 1897.  “Hobro ran a lucrative plumbing business serving the Chinatown area,” Tchen has written.  “Chinese were not allowed into the plumbers’ union until the late 1950s.”

“A Family from the Consulate, Chinatown, San Francisco,” c. 1900-1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.  A father and son (with a balloon), attired as befitted a merchant family, walking west on the north side of Clay above Dupont Street. More modestly-dressed passersby stare at the pair, perhaps in recognition of the man’s status as a consular official.  The long vertical signage parallel to the drainpipe in the left-hand part of the image has been damaged.  Other photos from this period show the complete sign as 包辩酒席占点心餅食俱全  (canto: “bow bin jau jik tin dim sum behng sihk geuih chuen”) or 包辦酒席 “= can host banquet;” 點心餅食 “= dim sum bakery;” 俱全 “ = both or complete.”   The writing on the lanterns at the ground floor identifies a restaurant as 悦香酒樓 (canto: “Yuet Heung Low”).  The shuttered storefront of the Yoot Hong Low restaurant’s premises at 810 Clay Street indicates that the building was closed for the New Year holiday.  

A father walks with his family north on Ross Alley, no date.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection).

Ross Alley from Jackson Street, c. 1898.   Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Historian Jack Tchen:  “The wooden box affixed to the wall on the left was for disposing of paper scraps.  Genthe inaccurately entitled this photograph ‘Reading the Tong Proclamation.’  According to many guide pamphlets and books written during this time, these notices proclaimed who would be the next victim of tong ‘hatchet men.’  In actuality, they reported a variety of community news.”

A Chinese merchant with his two children in Ross Alley of pre-1906 San Francisco Chinatown, c. 1902. Photograph attributed to Charles Weidner (from a private collection).

Chinese merchant and his children.  Photographer possibly by Charles Weidner (from the Cooper Chow collection at the Chinese Historical Society of America).  This image appears to be a continuation shot of the same trio of father, daughter and son Weidner took in Ross Alley.  All three are wearing the same clothes and posing in front of what is probably the father’s business premises. Outside of his store, the merchant shows more of a smile as he looks directly at the camera lens, perhaps more familiar with the photographer.  Even his son has started to show the beginning traces of a smile.  This implies that the photographer either followed the trio from Ross Alley to the father’s place of business or encountered the merchant and his offspring for another photo.  Prominent advertising signage appears above the doorway to the business which reads from right to left as follows:  廣珍號珍珠玉器金銀首飾男女新衣蘇杭發客 or roughly “Guangzhen Pearl Jade Gold and Silver Jewelry Men’s and Women’s New Clothes Suzhou and Hangzhou” (pinyin: “Guǎng zhēn hào zhēnzhū yùqì jīnyín shǒushì nánnǚ xīn yī sūhángfā kè “; canto: “Gwong Zun ho sunjiu yok hay gam ngan sau sik nam neuih sun yee so hong faat haak”).  The barely discernible calligraphy on the upper-right pane of the store window frame bears the probable business name, 廣珍 (“Gwong Zun”).  Magnification of the window reveals at several photographs that can be seen through the window.  At least four framed photos are visible on a wall behind a desk.  On the most discernible of the photos, a figure appears to be seated and holding a fan – a pose commonly used by Chinese subjects in the studio portraiture of the late 19th century.  The figure could be an ancestor or even the merchant’s wife, as photos became essential evidence to overcome the hurdles to the effective denial of entry to the US by Chinese females after the enactment of the Page Act of 1875 which purported to bar the immigration of prostitutes.  A couple of wooden shutters appear behind the merchant and his son.  The panels would have been used to cover the window as a security measure.  A similar set of shutters also appear at the far right of the photo frame, indicating the merchant shared this alleyway or street with other businesses. Unfortunately, the signage (appearing in the upper right-hand corner of the frame), for what appears to be a street number or street name is illegible.  

The fathers of old San Francisco Chinatown were unsung heroes who forged a path for future generations. Whether as successful merchants or hardworking laborers, their contributions to their families and community were immeasurable.  Their legacy is deeply ingrained in the history and fabric of modern-day Chinatown and the mythology of Chinese America itself, where their sacrifices and contributions are remembered and celebrated.  

A father escorts his two children across Dupont Street, heading west down the hill on the south side of Clay Street, c. 1900.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection).  The trees of Portsmouth Square park can be seen in the distance. 

Today, the descendants of these fathers continue to honor their heritage, proudly embracing their Chinese American identity while embodying the resilience and determination that their fathers instilled in them.

“A Proud Father” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  A  father and child are seen crossing Dupont Street at its intersection with Clay Street from the northeastern to northwestern corner.  The lanterns and balconies of the Wauy Sin Low restaurant at 808 Dupont can be seen in the background at right.   According to historian Jack Tchen, “[a] man’s elbow has been etched out of the photograph.  The object hanging above the street is an electric street light attached to a pulley.  When the bulb burned out, the light would be pulled over to the side of the street and changed.”

“Man and boy walking on street” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Based on his dress, the man appears to be a merchant. The boy’s festive dress indicates that the photo was taken during a holiday. 

“Man and children walking down a street,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“Man and two boys walking along a street,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Based on his dress, the man appears to be a merchant. The boy’s festive dress indicates that the photo was taken during a holiday. 

“Man and two children crossing a street,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“Man and a young child walking,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“Man carrying a child accompanied by another child,”  “Man and two children crossing a street,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“Boy and a man smoking a cigar crossing a street,” “Man and two children crossing a street,” c. 1900-1905.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“Waiting for the Car” c. 1904.   Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Historian Jack Tchen writes about this photo as follows: “The Sue family at a Dupont Street corner.  Mrs. Sue is shown with her eldest daughter, Alice, with Elsie sandwiched between them.  Her brother-in-law is holding Harris.  Alice is wearing strings of pearls and semiprecious stones on her head dress.  Mrs. Sue is wearing a black silk-on-silk embroidered outfit.  Married women generally wore dark, subdued clothing that distinguished them from prostitutes.  Elsie and Harris are wearing leather shoes; however, Alice and her mother wear Chinese-style footwear.  Mr. Sue, who died after the 1906 earthquake, ran a doc sic guun, or “boarding house,” which fed male workers at nine in the morning and four in the afternoon, while Mrs. Sue took in sewing.  (Information provided by Alice Sue Fun.)”

Father and two children walking downhill (probably Sacramento Street), c. 1904.  Photo by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division). The girl’s festive dress indicates that the photograph was taken during the New Year holidays.   

A sidewalk store proprietor/operator with his children, c. pre-1906.  Postcard variant of a lithograph (from the collection of the Society of California Pioneers).  Other card variants bear the caption “Chin Kee and family, Chinese Street Merchant, Dupont and Washington Sts. Chinatown, San Francisco”  such as  the card by Britton & Rey, Lithographers, San Francisco 515 (from the private collection of Wong Yuen-ming).  To read more about the sidewalk stalls of old San Francisco Chinatown, go here. 

“Dressed for a Visit”  c. 1896 - 1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  Historian Jack Tchen:  “This photograph happens to capture the sign for the ‘Chinese Newspaper/War Kee’ at 803 Washington Street, just west of Dupont Street.  The War Kee was founded in 1875.  Although the names J. Hoffman and Chock Wong appear as the publishers of the first issue, a Yee Jenn has been cited as the founder.  The War Kee, which was the first successful Chinese weekly published in Tangrenbu, folded in 1903.  [Note: The Langley directory for 1876 contains a listing in its newspapers section for “Oriental (Chinese) Chock Wong & J. Hoffmann, 817 Washington.” This address would have placed its first offices on the south side of Washington Street across from the southern entrance to Ross Alley.]

Chinese American men and three children in traditional dress standing on a street in Chinatown, San Francisco, c. 1896 - 1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division).  

“The Proud Father” c. 1905.  Photo by Mervyn D. Silberstein (from a private collection).  Silberstein specialized in photography of San Francisco Chinatown residents and producing hand-colored reproductions in “actual Chinese color combinations.”  Silberstein’s own ads for his “Chinee-Graphs”  promoted “[m]ost of these pictures were taken during the Chinese New Year festivities many years ago when the ancient customs were adhered to.”  

[updated 2023-6-30]

“Chinatown, San Francisco California, 1895.”  Photograph by Wilhelm Hester (from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections).  This photo shows a view north up Washington Place, a.k.a. Washington Alley (“Fish Alley” to English speakers) or “Tuck Wo Gaai” (德和街) to old Chinatown’s residents.  

Washington Place:  Chinatown’s “Fish Alley” 德和街

The street on which one of my grandmothers was born in 1898 had already begun to acquire a rich photographic legacy as an iconic alleyway whose south-north axis connected Washington to Jackson Streets in San Francisco’s old Chinatown.   Prior to the Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906, the city had designated the short street as “Washington Place.”  

The photographers of old Chinatown often called the street (which would later be re-named Wentworth Place after the quake), as Washington Alley and “Fish Alley.” Chinatown residents referred to the alleyway as “Tuck Wo Gaai” (德和街; lit.: “Virtuous Harmony St.; canto: “Duck Wo gaai”), the name of a well-known business which was located at least as early as 1875 on the southwest corner of the “T” intersection of Washington Place with Jackson Street.

Fish Alley must be considered one of old Chinatown’s most famous streets, the images of which were captured by various photographers and artists during the 19th century.  While far from complete, this article attempts to identify the businesses at each identifiable address from photos that are available online. The businesses operating on Washington Place during the latter decades of the 19th century established the small street as one of the iconic alleyways of the pre-1906 community.  The photos are grouped roughly in the order they would have appeared to a pedestrian walking north on Fish Alley from Washington to Jackson streets.

“In the Heart of Chinatown, San Francisco, California” c. 1892. Photographer unknown, stereograph published by J.F. Jarvis (from the Robert N. Dennis collection, New York Public Library).

“In the Heart of Chinatown, San Francisco, U.S.A.” c. 1892. This enlarged photo from the original stereograph looks north up Washington Place or Alley, a.k.a. “Fish Alley,” from Washington to Jackson Street.

At least one motion picture of life on the street has survived to this day, a “Mutoscope” from April 1903.  (See, e.g., https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53DTuc6-1hI&ab_channel=LibraryofCongress)  

A portion of the hand-drawn map by immigration officer John Lynch from 1894. Washington Street at the southern end of Washington Place appears at the top of the image.

The attempts by local historians to identify various places on Fish Alley has also been helped by the preservation of a hand-drawn immigration officer map from 1894 (the “1894 Map”), as well as numerous business directories showing the names and addresses of the businesses operating on this street prior to the destruction of the neighborhood in 1906.

“Chinatown, San Francisco, Cal.” C. 1890.  Photographer unknown (from the Marilyn Blaisdell Collection). This photo was taken from Washington Street looking north up Washington Place (a.k.a. Fish Alley) toward Jackson Street.

“Street in Chinese Quarter – San Francisco” c. 1870s.  Photograph possibly taken by the studio of Thomas Houseworth & Co. Image courtesy of Wolfgang Sell of the National Stereoscopic Association.  This stereocard shows Emperor Norton (at right) on Chinatown’s “Fish Alley” a.k.a. Washington Place (looking north toward Jackson Street).

By the 1870’s, Fish Alley or Washington Place had already acquired its status as a destination to view in old Chinatown.  No less than a local celebrity such as Emperor Norton would pose for a photo on an ever-busy fish and poultry venue.

Untitled photo of Washington Place (a.k.a. Fish Alley), no date. Photo produced by the studio of Isaiah West Taber (from the collection of the California Historical Society). The Tuck Hing meat market appears at the left on the northwest corner of the T-intersection of Fish Alley and Washington Street.  The identity of the photographer holding his camera and tripod at the left-center of the image is unknown.

“B 2689 Provision Market in Alley in Chinatown, San Francisco” c. 1891.  Photograph probably by Carleton Watkins but printed as a [I.W.] Taber Photo (from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection).  This photo shows a view north up Washington Place (a.k.a. Washington Alley or “Fish Alley” to English speakers) or “Tuck Wo Gaai” (德和街) taken sometime between 1880-1891.  In a travel book in which the photo “The Provision Market [etc.]” appeared, the writer observed that the market “supplies a better class of food to customers than the markets in China itself.  In China the shops sell, rats, mice, dogs, cats and snails; poultry is sold by the piece – so much for a leg, so much for a wing.  In San Francisco food is more easily obtainable and money is not so scarce, so that the Chinaman lives better than in his own country… .”

“Chinatown at Night” published by Britton & Rey (from the collection of Wong Yuen-Ming).  The postcard image was derived from the Taber Photo “B 2689 Provision Market in Alley in Chinatown, San Francisco” c. 1891.

The above photo and derivative postcard in this series was sold by Isaiah West Taber under the title “Provisions Market in Alley in Chinatown, San Francisco,” but the image was probably captured by Carleton Watkins and acquired by Taber in the aftermath of Watkins’ bankruptcy. The identity of the store shown at the left in the photo is well-known as the Tuck Hing meat market.  The market appeared frequently in Chinatown directories from that era and the living memories of Chinatown’s oldest residents.

Listing for the Tuck Hing meat market at 746 Washington St. from the Horn Hong & Co. Chinatown Business Directory and lunar Calendar for 1892.

According to the directories and 1894 Map, the corner market was operated under the name “Tuck Hing Butchers” in a brick building at 746 Washington Street and its alley address at no. 2 Washington Place (in the Langley directory of 1895).  The Tuck Hing meat market operated for about a century from 1888 to 1988 at the same northwest corner of the intersection of Washington Street with Washington Place (later named Wentworth).

Across the street from Tuck Hing, on the northeast corner of the intersection of Washington Place and Washington Street, a visitor to Fish Alley around the turn of the century would see another corner store, the Sun Lun Sang Co. at 1 Washington Place.

Fish Alley, no date.  Photograph by Turrill & Miller from the Marilyn Blaisdell collection).  The Sung Lun (or Lung) Sang, a.k.a. Sun Lung Sing (新聯生; canto: “Sun Luen Saang”) general merchandise store appears at right.

Listing for the Sun Lung Sang market at no. 1 Washington St. from the Horn Hong & Co. Chinatown Business Directory and Lunar Calendar for 1892.

“One Washington Place,” c. 1892-1896.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).  The store signage for Sun Lun Sang company (新聯生; canto: “sun luen saang”) appears along the left of the frame.  The trees of Portsmouth Square and the tower portion of the Hall of Justice are visible through the open, south-facing window along Washington Street frontage.

Historian Jack Tchen identified the store at the northeast corner of Fish Alley and Washington Street as the Sun Lun Sang Co. (新聯生; canto: “Sun Luen Saang” )  “Caged chickens are clearly visible on the right,” Tchen writes.  “The photograph was probably taken during New Year’s, because the children are dressed in fancy clothing.  The simply dressed woman looking on is probably a house servant to a wealthy merchant family.”

“One Washington Place” c. 1897.    Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).   “In this view, taken sometime after 1897,” Jack Tchen writes, “the store sign reads ‘Yow Sing & Co., No. 2.’The man in the basement stairwell is holding a Chinese scale (cheng).  The wooden panels on the left are used to board up the storefront after business hours.”

“Chinatown – fish market, circa 1900.”  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  A fishmonger talks to a young shopper while cleaning a fish at his sidewalk cutting board probably at no. 5 or 6/12 Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley.  

“Fish Market, two men,” c. 1900.  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  The same fishmonger talks to a male shopper in front of the store at 5 Washington Place.  The window of the barbershop has been scratched out at the right of the frame.

D.H. Wulzen’s photos of a fish store serving a child customer and a lone man fortunately captured a faint images of its business signage, i.e., 昌聚魚鋪 = (lit. “Prosperous Gathering”; canto: “Cheung Jeuih yu poh”; pinyin: “Chāng jù yú pù”).  The small store had apparently established itself after the preparation of the 1894 immigration map and by the turn of the century, its address at no. 5 or 6-½ Washington Place can be determined by its neighbor, whose business name on its window can be read as 同德 (canto: “Tuhng Duck”), a barbershop located at no. 3 Washington Place.

Listing for the “Tong Tuck” barbershop at 3 Washington Place from the Horn Hong & Co. Chinatown Business Directory and lunar Calendar for 1892.

Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley, no date.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection on eBay).  The image looks north toward Jackson Street, and the store at left appears to be the store located at no. 4 Washington Place. 

Several photos of Arnold Genthe provide the basis for a reasonable guess about the Chung Hing & Co. poultry store’s probable occupancy of the space at no. 4 Washington Place.

“Fish Alley, Chinatown, San Francisco” a.k.a. “Booth, Fish Alley, Chinatown, San Francisco” undated [c. 1895- 1905].  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).  “Freshly killed chickens are hanging from the rack,” writes historian Jack Tchen, “with wooden chicken crates visible in the background. Fish as redisplayed on the table to the right.  An American-made scale is hanging in the upper left-hand corner of the photograph.”

In addition to his Fish Alley photo which appeared in two editions of his photos of old Chinatown, Arnold Genthe took at least two other wider-angle images of the Chung Hing & Co. store.

“Two women and a child walking down a sidewalk between crates, Chinatown, San Francisco” c. 1896- 1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).  

This clumsily-named photo of a man and probably two daughters walking past a poultry store appears to be the same shop depicted in Genthe’s “Fish Alley” photo, at no. 4 Washington Place.  Although two large lanterns adorn the entryway, the work table (at left), the scale and the basket of eggs suspended to the left of its entrance are identical.

“Vendors and a horse and cart on a street, Chinatown, San Francisco,” c. 1896- 1906.  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).  This photo represents the third image captured by Genthe of the poultry store probably located at no. 4 Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley. The presence of the pair of lanterns over the entryway to the store indicates that it was taken closer in time to the preceding photo of a man and his daughters walking past this store.  

Genthe’s photos from across the alleyway affords a better view of the building elevations.  The “Vendors” photo probably depicts the west side of Washington Place or Alley on which the poultry stores operated.  From left to right, one sees the Fish Alley store occupying the larger opening of a brick building, followed by a narrower entry opening, presumably leading to a stairway to the upper floors. The horse cart is parked in front of a wooden structure which abuts a two-story brick building with a light façade which, in turn, is adjacent another brick building. This combination of buildings, i.e., “brick-wood-brick-brick” more closely fits the line of structures starting at no. 4 Washington Place and proceeding sequentially as noted on the 1894 Map sketched by immigration officer John Lynch (the “1894 Map”).

“Fish Market, Two Men,” circa 1901.  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library). Wulzen’s photo depicts the same poultry store seen in Genthe’s “Fish Alley” and related photos. The store’s poultry cages against the left wall of the interior are more visible in the background.  The stairway to the upper floors appears more clearly in the center, and the Wulzen photo confirms the wooden construction of the adjacent building at right.

Fortunately, Dietrich H. Wulzen, Jr., shared with his photographic peers a fascination with the businesses which operated on old Chinatown’s Fish Alley.  Viewing both images of the same store by Genthe and Wulzen allows the viewer to understand better the context of the built environment of Fish Alley and, in particular, the location of the poultry store at no. 4 Washington Place.

“Clerk at poultry market, chicken hanging,” circa 1901.  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library). Wulzen took another photo of the Chung Hing & Co. poultry store at 4 Washington Place from a different angle and into its interior.  The “clerk” seen dressing a bird appears to be the same man seen in the background of the previous photo in this series.

In his book Picturing Chinatown: Art and Orientalism in San Francisco, art historian Anthony W. Lee wrote about Wulzen and “Fish Market, Two Men” as follows:

“[Wulzen]  was especially attentive to Genthe’s pictures of these spaces in the quarter more frequented by the working class. Of his fifty-five plates, more than forty were shot in the alleys, including Fish Market, Two Men … photographed on Washington Place. It closely resembles Genthe’s picture of the same subject …, differing primarily in the angle of approach and the wares (fish, not poultry) that the vendor has displayed.  Wulzen even carefully registers the sloping table and the slight angles of the two washbasins beneath it, just as Genthe had done.”

Unlike the case of several of his prominent contemporaries, Wulzen’s glass plate negatives escaped the destruction caused by the 1906 Earthquake and Fire, and his son Frank donated the negatives to the San Francisco Public Library (SFPL) on the 90th anniversary of the disaster.  The SFPL added Wulzen’s Chinatown scenes to its online offerings in 2016.  Born in 1862, Wulzen became a pharmacist in 1889, studying at the Affiliated Colleges on Parnassus Heights. In the 1890s, according to the SFPL, he became interested in photography and added a Kodak Agency to his drug store. Wulzen joined the California Camera Club and became known for a photographic style which was “straightforward and realistic, unlike the dominant ‘artist’ photography of the club.”  

 “Chinese Fish Peddler, San Francisco Chinatown” c. 1900.  Photographer unknown (from the collection of the Monterey County Historical Society).  This hitherto unidentified photo also appears to be the same shop at no. 4 Washington Place which had attracted the interests of photographers Genthe and Wulzen.  

The 1894 Map identifies  the shop at no. 4 Washington Place as the “Chung King poultry & fish” store, but the business listings of the day, such as the Horn Hom & Co. directory of 1892 lists the name as “Chung Hing” (祥興; canto: “Cheung Hing”), and the 1895 Langley directory denotes the name as “Chong Hing & Co., 4 Washington Alley.”  

“The Fish Market” undated [c. 1895- 1905].  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division).  A print of this photo is also known by the title “Fish Market Scales” (without attribution to Genthe) in the collection of the California Historical Society.  Based on the small sign appearing above the doorway on the right of the image, historian Jack Tchen identified the location of this scene as the Chong Tsui store (昌咀; lit. Prosperous Assemblage”; canto: “Cheung Jeuih”) at 5-½ Washington Place.  

Examination of images by other photographers and the Horn Hom Co. business directory of 1892 indicate that Jack Tchen misidentified the store in his book about Arnold Genthe’s photographs.  The Chinese signage over the main storefront entrance of the store shown in Genthe’s photo reads from right to left as 廣興  or Quong Hing (canto: “Gwong Hing”).   The Quong Hing store was located at 7 Washington Place.

Listing for the “Qung Hing” meat market at 7 Washington Place from the Horn Hong & Co. Chinatown Business Directory and lunar Calendar for 1892.

Untitled photo of the Quong Hing store located at 7 Washington Place, c. 1892.  Photographer unknown (from a private collector item on eBay).  The sign for the store appears more clearly in the upper-right corner of this photo than as shown in the Arnold Genthe photo of the same store.

“Chinatown market, San Francisco California, 1895.”  Photograph by Wilhelm Hester (from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections).  The sign appearing in the left of the frame reads 恆昌棧 (canto: “Hun Cheung Jan”; lit. “Lasting Prosperity store”), which occupied the space at no. 7 Washington Place or Alley.

To some readers, the Chinese character “棧” could also be interpreted to be an “inn” or a boarding house.  However, the Langley directories of 1894 and 1895 (the same year during which Wilhelm Hester took his photograph of a group of men gathered outside this storefront), lists a fish purveyor, “Hung Chong John, 7 Washington Alley.”  

Hester is perhaps best known for his documenting the maritime activities of the Puget Sound Region and his time spent in Alaska during the gold rush of 1898.  According to the University of Washington archivists, the bulk of his photos of the early history of ships and shipping in Washington State were taken between 1893 and 1906.  Born in Germany in 1872, Hester moved to the Pacific Northwest in 1893. He established successful photo studios in Seattle and Tacoma, principally taking and selling photographs of maritime subjects, as ships from around the world and their crews docked at various Puget Sound ports.  

The listing for the Hung Chong John store in the Langley directory of 1895

It appears that the Hung Chong John business shared the same address as the Quong Hing store. The address-sharing was not uncommon for this building.  At least as early as 1885 (when the city prepared its “official map” of Chinatown), the building at no. 7 Washington Place was subdivided by three businesses all with the same address.

Detail showing the subdivision of the building at no. 7 Washington Place in the San Francisco Board of Supervisors official map of Chinatown, July 1885 (from the Cooper Chow collection at the Chinese Historical Society of America).

Untitled photo of the west side of Washington Place (a.k.a. “Fish Alley), probably in the morning.  Photographer unknown. The wooden structure at left probably served as the shop spaces for the Kim Kee and Man Hop stores occupying the addresses at no. 6 - 8 Washington Place.

Unfortunately, the Langley directory of 1893 omits a separate Chinese directory and appears to have excluded Chinese businesses from its general listings. Based on its omission from the Horn Hong & Co. directory/calendar of 1892, the Hung Chong John store’s 1894 listing validates the year of 1895 during which Wilhelm Hester reportedly took his set of photos of Chinatown’s Fish Alley along Washington Place.

“Chinatown – fish market, c. 1900.”  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  D.H. Wulzen’s no-nonsense approach produced vivid images of one store in particular, the Hop Chong Jan company, located at 12 Washington Place.  

D.H. Wulzen took at least three versions of his “Fish Market” photo (one of which is reversed on the SF Public Library website).  The business sign on the middle column of the storefront reads as follows: 合昌棧 (canto: “Hop Cheung Jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé chāng zhàn”). According to the 1894 Map, a business named “Hop Chong Jan & Co.” was located on the east side of the street at no. 12 Washington Place (a.k.a. Fish Alley).

Detail from 1894 map of Washington Place or Alley by immigration officer John Lynch (from the collection of the National Archives).

Listing for the Hop Chong Jan market at 12 Washington Place from the Horn Hong & Co. Chinatown Business Directory and Lunar Calendar for 1892.

“Chinatown – fish market, c. 1900.  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  The business sign on the middle column of the storefront in this image is more faint, but the Chinese characters of 合昌棧 (canto: “Hop Cheung jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé chāng zhàn”) can be discerned.

The Hop Chong Jan company store also inspired other camerapersons to photograph its daily operations.  The upper level of the building in which the Hop Chong Jan company at no. 12 Washington Place featured a wrought-iron balcony.  The balcony grillwork enhanced interest in this building, as it figured prominently in other photographs and postcards from that era.

“Fish Alley, Chinatown” c. 1900.  Photographer and postcard artist unknown, published by Edward H. Mitchell of San Francisco).  Although unidentified, the postcard depicts the Hop Chong Jan company at no. 12 Washington Place. The details seen in the card are extraordinary, as they include sidewalk items seen in the photographs of the same building by D.H. Wulzen.

Untitled, San Francisco Chinatown, c. 1900.  The sign on the column of the storefront 合昌棧 (canto: “Hop Cheung jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé Chāng zhàn”) can be seen in the center for the Hop Chong Jan fish market at no. 12 Washington Place.

“Chinatown market, San Francisco California, 1895.”  Photograph by Wilhelm Hester (from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections).  In this view of two men in front of the store at no. 12 Washington Place, looking toward the southeast from the middle of the alleyway, the sign on the column (in the right half of the frame) faintly reads 合昌棧 (canto: “Hop Cheung jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé Chāng zhàn”) for the Hop Chong Jan fish market.

“Chinatown market, San Francisco California, 1895.”  Photograph by Wilhelm Hester (from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections).  In this closer view of two Chinese and one white man in front of the store at no. 12 Washington Place, looking toward the southeast from the middle of the alleyway, the store’s sign cannot be seen.  The presence of two lanterns from under the balcony’s overhang indicates that this photo was taken of the Hop Chong Jan (合昌棧; canto: “Hop Cheung jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé chāng zhàn”) market at a different time.  Certain details such as the window at left, the hanging scale, and the display shelves are identical to Hester’s other photos of the store.

“Chinatown, San Francisco California,” c. 1895. Photograph by Wilhelm Hester (from the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections).  In this street scene showing two Chinese American men and a child in front of a market, the view is of no. 12 Washington Place, looking south down the east side of the alleyway toward Washington Street.  Certain details such as the window at left, the hanging scale, and the display shelves are identical to Hester’s other photos of the Hop Chong Jan 合昌棧 (canto: “Hop Cheung jaanh”; pinyin: “Hé Chāng zhàn”) market.

Untitled photo of Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley, in pre-1906 Chinatown.   Photographer unknown (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). The photo shows almost the full elevation of the building at no. 12 Washington Place on the east side of the short street, looking north toward Jackson Street.  To the right of the store frontage, a door and an interior stairway appears in virtually all images of the building at no. 12 Washington Place.  The stairs presumably lead to the upper floors of the building.  My grandmother, Lillian Hee, was born in one of upper apartments above this store on October 31,1898.

“Chinatown – fish market on Dupont Street, circa 1900.” Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  

Wulzen’s photo of a fish market fortunately included the signage for “Hop Sing – clams” in the left of the frame. The San Francisco Public Library’s information that this market was located on Dupont Street is probably erroneous for at least several reasons.  The 1894 Map by immigration officer John Lynch placed a “Hop Sing fish" company as located at No. 13 Washington Place (a.k.a. Fish Alley), on the west side of the street.  Lynch also included a notation that the building was of “wood” construction, and Wulzen’s photo supports that conclusion.  Moreover, the low-rise aspect of the building in the photo appears inconsistent with the higher elevation structures on Dupont Street in Chinatown.  The Langley business directory of 1895 tends to support Lynch’s finding, although it lists a “Y Sing & Co.” at 13 Washington Alley, which might have been a typographical error.

“Chinatown – fish market, circa 1900.”  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  For this close-up shot of the same Hop Sing market (no. 13 Washington Place), the San Francisco Public Library has produced no evidence backing its claim of a Dupont St. location.  

“Fish Market, One man sitting, “HOP SING CLAMS” sign,” circa 1900.”  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library). This third shot of the Hop Sing market (at 13 Washington Place shows its operator during a lull in customers.  The San Francisco Public Library also incorrectly identifies the location of the market on Dupont Street.  

“Chinatown – fish market, circa 1900.”  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  Fortunately, the photograph shows a portion of the business sign above the man holding a scale and which was largely obscured by the store’s awning.  According to the 1894 map and the Horn Hong & Co. directory of 1892, the Quong Shing (廣城; canto: “Gwang Sing”) store was located at no. 15 Washington Place.   The 1894 map described the “Quong Shing & Co.” as a small general merchandise store.

“Fish Market, a woman watches a man weigh fish,” c. 1900.  Photograph by D. H. Wulzen (from the D.H. Wulzen Glass Plate Negative Collection (Sfp 40), San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library).  From a slightly different angle as the preceding photo, Wulzen took a second shot of the Quong Shing (廣城; canto: “Gwang Sing”) store was located at no. 15 Washington Place.

“Fishmonger.”  Photographer unknown from the collection of the California Historical Society). The proprietor of a fish store provides an unusual smile in this photo taken on old Chinatown’s Fish Alley.  The only clue to the store’s location are provided by the business signage in the upper center of the image and above a handwritten number “22” on the inside left wall of the shop entrance:  a fanciful Chinese name 老倌 祥城魚棧客 (lit.: “Old Shepherd Felicitous City Fish Store”; canto:  “Low gwun cheung sing yu jahn haak”; pinyin: Lǎo guān xiáng chéng yú zhàn kè).

The store at no. 22 Washington Place was located almost in the middle of the block on the eastern side of the street.  Unfortunately, only the prior occupant of the storefront space was not noted on the 1894 Map, and the name of a predecessor business (“Tong Yuen Hing”) appears in the Horn Hong & Co. directory of 1892 at the address.  

“Discussing It In Chinatown,” 1897.  Photographer unknown (from Wasp magazine of 1897).  At left the sign of “Tuck Cheong Lung” & Co. (德昌隆 canto: “Duck Cheung Loong”; lit. “virtue and prosperity land”) appears which the Horn Hong directory of 1892 and the Langley directory of 1895 located at 26 Washington Alley or Place and identified as a grocery on the immigration officer’s 1894 map of the small street.  

The middle portion of the hand-drawn map of Washington Place or Alley by immigration officer John Lynch from 1894. The southerly end of the alleyway appears at the top of the image.

The last third of the hand-drawn map of Washington Place or Alley by immigration officer John Lynch from 1894. The northerly end of the alleyway at Jackson Street appears toward the bottom of the sketch.

A portion of “No. 145. Chinese Restaurant, San Francisco. Cal.” c. 1875. Stereograph by J.J. Reilly (from the collection of the Oakland Museum of California).  The barely discernible Chinese characters on the glass lanterns of the second floor balcony further attest to the restaurant’s name as 聚英楼 or, Cantonese pronunciation, “Jeuih Ying Lauh”). The Bishop directory of 1875 confirms that the English rendering of the restaurant’s name was “Choy Yan Low,” and its address listing read as follows:  “restaurant SE cor [sic] Washington alley and Jackson.”  

According to the maps of that era, the southeast corner of the intersection corresponded to the address of 633 Jackson Street.  As indicated by the 1894 Map, gambling establishments dominated the northern end and eastside of Washington Place (essentially the same pattern as documented in the “vice map” prepared by the city in July 1885).  Not surprising, three men can be seen standing on the eastside sidewalk of Washington Place (at right); they are positioned near the entrances to the gambling parlors.  

Detail of the north end of Washington Place from the July 1885 “vice map” of prepared by San Francisco.

Untitled photo of the northern end of Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley or Tuck Wo gaai, looking south from Jackson toward Washington Street, c. 1890s.  Photographer unknown.  The Tuck Wo (德和) market for which the short street of Washington Place was named by the Chinese, occupied the southwest corner of the intersection partially seen in the foreground and to the right of the frame (at 635 Jackson Street). The entrances to gambling parlors were located along the east side of the alleyway at the northern end of Fish Alley and across from the alleyway frontage of the Tuck Wo market.

The listing for the Tuck Wo & Co., from the 1871 Wells Fargo directory of Chinese businesses in San Francisco.

Untitled photo of the northern end of Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley or Tuck Wo gaai, looking south from Jackson toward Washington Street, no date.  Photographer unknown (from a private collection).  In this shot taken from the north side of Jackson Street, more of the Tuck Wo market’s frontage is seen at right. The suspended streetlamp is not visible in the image, so this photo may have predated the 1890′s.  

“The Butcher, Chinatown, San Francisco” undated [c. 1895- 1905].  Photograph by Arnold Genthe (from the collection of the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division). Genthe mistakenly titled this photo, as the man working over the table is fileting fish from his storefront on Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley.  

“Fish Alley, Chinatown. San Francisco, California” c. 1905. Postcard probably based on a photograph by Charles Weidner.  The view appears to look north on Washington Place, a.k.a. Fish Alley, in old Chinatown.

The status of Washington Place as “Fish Alley” as a fish and poultry destination appeared to have endured until the earthquake and fire of 1906.  The small street suffered the same fate of obliteration as every other street in old Chinatown.  As Will Irwin wrote about this lost street of old Chinatown (while offering nothing substantial about the Chinese themselves):  “Where is Fish Alley, that horror to the nose, that perfume to the eye?”

“Fish Alley, Chinatown” c. 1898.  Drawing by A.M. Robertson (from the collection of the Bancroft Library). In this artist’s rendering the markets on Washington Place of old Chinatown, the building at no. 12 is seen in the center, the birthplace of my grandmother in the same year this drawing was published.

In Chinatown today, the sign for the old alleyway still bears the old Chinese street name from the pioneer era.  

The street sign for Wentworth Place on the northwest corner of its intersection with Washington Street, June 22, 2022.  Photo by Doug Chan.  The sign still bears the Chinese name for the small street,德和街(canto: “duck who gaai”), the name of an old Chinatown business which occupied the southwest corner of the “T” intersection of Wentworth Place and Jackson Street from at least 1875 to 1906.

Wentworth Place, May 14, 2021.  Photograph by Doug Chan.  The city renamed Washington Place, a.k.a. Washington Alley or “Fish Alley,” to Wentworth Place after Chinatown was rebuilt in the wake of the 1906 earthquake and fire.  Since at least 1875, Chinatown’s residents have called this small street connecting Washington to Jackson streets as “Tuck Wo Gaai” (德和街).

Recollections of the now-legendary Fish Alley of old Chinatown have faded from living memory.  Many, if not most, Chinatown residents are unaware of the street name’s origin.  

Former Supervisor, Board of Education commissioner, and attorney Bill Maher on Wentworth Place between the rainstorms on Jan. 4, 2023, contemplates the small street where my grandmother (嫲嫲 ) was born on Halloween in 1898 as a third-generation Californian. Photograph by Doug Chan.  Once known as Washington Place and “Fish Alley” to English speakers, the street sign still bears the old Chinese urban pioneer name of “Tuck Wo St.” (德和街; canto: “Duck Wo gaai”) for today’s residents of San Francisco Chinatown.

The vitality of the small street, however, not only lives on with the stories and the old images of its past, but Wentworth Place also serves as the home of the “Lion’s Den Bar and Lounge.”  As the first genuine nightclub to open in almost a half-century in Chinatown, its establishment might one day be regarded as one of the events which sparked an economic revival in the neighborhood.

Fish Alley:  it’s where we began; it’s where we’ll begin again.

“Fish Alley Old Chinatown” painting by Charles Albert Rogers (from the collection of the Bancroft Library).