Settling in Shanghai
My ID card issued in Shanghai on January 9th, 1948.
Arrival
In the early morning of late January 1948 just off the coast of China the weather was overcast, cold and raw. The brightly painted red, white, and blue SS President Cleveland, steamed northeast on her maiden voyage through the East China Sea. Our family had been on board for almost 30 days since leaving San Francisco. The long trip had been magnificent and was soon coming to an end.
After a few hours, the ship altered course towards Shanghai up the Huangpu, a branch of the lower reaches of the Yangtze River. In the early hours many of the 500 passengers were already on deck to catch their first glimpses of China ...a totally new world for most of them.
As the ship entered the Yangtze estuary, passengers suddenly recoiled in the face of the almost nauseous, fetid smell rising from the sea. Looking out across the surface of the water, flotsam was everywhere as far as one could see. Massive amounts of garbage, trash, even occasional animal carcasses along with much of Shanghai’s industrial and human waste had been dumped offshore. It was as though a blanket of filth covered the otherwise beautiful sea. The ocean’s calm surface undulated almost rhythmically under the weight of the floating detritus in the dark water below. It was the putrid, acrid smell in the air that first introduced everyone on board to China. In fact, to varying degrees, the stench in the air would remain with us throughout our entire stay.
Once our ship came in sight of China’s mainland, a ragtag flotilla of tiny sampans and junks suddenly appeared ghost-like, seemingly out of nowhere. Our captain reduced speed as the ship entered the estuary. Within sight of its berth, excitement and anticipation bubbled up among the passengers standing outside on the ship’s frigid decks. As the Cleveland was being snugged in against the wharf by tugs, baggage handlers, Customs personnel, armed Chinese soldiers, myriad rickshaws, pedicabs and hundreds of curious onlookers, all became frenzied in anticipation of this long-awaited luxury liner. Prior to our arrival, most Chinese had never before seen Caucasians, much less Americans. All eyes on shore gazed up in wonder at the white foreigners craning out over the railings and waving from the magnificent vessel.
It would take hours for passengers to disembark and clear Customs. In the interim, chaos came into play on the vast, wet, concrete wharf. Customs officials began to inspect the passengers, their suitcases, footlockers and steamer trunks. The language barrier only worsened the situation. In the process, everywhere personal property was being violated. Baggage was turned upside down, their contents disgorged and strewn about by rude officials. Military commands were barked from every quarter. Whistles shrieked expressions of disapproval and threats. The treatment meted out to China’s excited, newly-arrived, western guests turned to disappointment. In some cases, mayhem led to despair. In the absence of sufficient interpreters, many passengers simply gave up and sat on the cement floor, heads between their knees. Children could be heard crying in the distance. Even in 1948, thievery remained integral to China’s Customs process. Still onboard, I became worried while witnessing the chaos unfolding below.
As most passengers had disembarked, Dad told our family to remain patient aboard the ship. In due course, an American consulate staff member arrived reporting to Dad. The family was quickly escorted from the ship to the wharf where several black cars, a large truck, a number of coolies, and several drivers were standing by. The consulate staff member cleared our diplomatic passports and papers without a hitch. Diplomatic convention precluded international inspection of diplomats and their belongings. In our case, there were numerous, sizable wooden crates containing our furniture and personal effects. The coolies loaded everything onto the consulate trucks, cleared Customs quickly and disappeared into the bustling city of Shanghai. Our car driver insisted that Flirt be hidden under a blanket. Otherwise, spotted by Customs officials she might be confiscated. Heather knew that something was awry and began to weep. Mom told her to stop and instead to smile at the Customs officers as our vehicle passed carefully through their ranks. Once through the checkpoint, our entourage likewise whisked us away from the waterfront and into the city of Shanghai.
New Perspective
The car headed for the Metropole Hotel located near the Bund where we were to stay for a couple of weeks before moving to our new home in the French Quarter. In 1948, the Metropole of 1930s art deco design was considered one of Shanghai’s grand hotels.
Regarding my first impressions of China, namely, its filth, foul smells and the frightening wharf scene, I was more impressed by a different China. Excitedly, I couldn’t stop describing the wonderful differences I was seeing: roads filled with hundreds of rickshaws pulled about by muscular, but seemingly undernourished, runners; thousands of waterfront laborers, some even with queues, carrying 300 pound loads up gangplanks; and, myriad sampans everywhere in the harbor on which impoverished families existed during their entire lives. To a ten year old American boy, China was fascinating.
Modern China
For centuries, Shanghai had been one of China’s dominant trading ports. In the mid-19th century it underwent substantial change as a result of its defeat in the First Opium War. Under a forced treaty, the Qing Dynasty permitted the United States, Britain, France and a few other nations to establish “Shanghai International Settlements” (treaty ports) for international trading purposes. Each settlement was permitted to be wholly self-controlled. In each, the type of business, its street signs, architecture, language and the like, reflected its country of origin. For over 100 years, strong western influence was evident within the various international settlements abutting the city walls of “Old Shanghai.” Soon, the city itself would become known throughout Asia as the “Paris of the East.”
China’s last emperor was forced to abdicate in 1912, following Sun Yat-sen’s republican revolution. The end of 267 years of Manchu rule and 2,000 years of imperial rule were replaced by the tyrannies of warlords and endless tumult.
Various warlords ruled much of China until the 1927 civil war between the Kuomintang (KMT) government of the Republic of China and the Communist Party of China (CPC). Later, the civil war was superseded by Japan’s attack on Shanghai in 1937 leading to World War II. Eventually, the extraterritorial privileges of Shanghai’s international settlements were dissolved under a treaty signed in 1943.
As our family arrived in China, the country appeared to be in a medieval time-warp still wrapped in its ancient culture. Its turbulent history of many decades was fast approaching a defined political solution. Nevertheless, for an American youngster (me), China seemed a great place to be.
Post-War Transition
It has been difficult researching my father’s Foreign Service career from the beginning of World War II until his second China assignment in 1947. The first China (Hong Kong) assignment was 1931-1932.
At 38 years of age, 1945, he was named assistant to the newly appointed Secretary of State, James Byrnes. In 1946, he accompanied Secretary Byrnes to the Paris Peace Conference orchestrating Germany’s surrender ...and its future.
Later that year, President Truman established the Central Intelligence Group (C.I.G.), the precursor to the C.I.A., which was to replace the wartime O.S.S. Dad was appointed as Section Chief of the Central Intelligence Group’s Interdepartmental Coordinating and Planning Staff (ICAPS). He reported directly to Lt. Gen. Hoyt S. Vandenberg, Jr., Director of C.I.G. In late 1947, the new C.I.A. was created around the time Dad was appointed Consul to the U.S. Consulate General in Shanghai.
Our New Home
Initially, and for a short period of time, we resided in Shanghai’s Metropole Hotel, a 1930s high-rise located near the center of the city. There my primary responsibility was to walk Flirt several times a day. Quite by surprise, my deep fear of being alone on the crowded streets of Shanghai began to dissipate. As Flirt swaggered down the sidewalks heeling at my side, most of the approaching Chinese pedestrians fearful of large dogs would cross to the other side of the street. True, in those years most Chinese simply did not own dogs as pets. Rather, they were considered delicacies - or used as guard dogs. Soon, I realized Flirt was seen as a fearsome dog, one not to be approached without care.
Our family’s first China home was located in a walled compound within the former French Settlement on Route Doumer (now Donghu Road). Five to seven Western families were housed in these multi-level apartments within spacious, walled surroundings including parking and a sizable playing area for children and dogs. Back in the corner of the compound, not too far from the main gate, was a superb three story replica of a pagoda. The eight or nine foot stucco walls surrounding the compound were capped with glass shards for security. The main gate was guarded around the clock by renowned, fearsome Sikhs, Indian warriors with their exquisite uniforms and turbans. We children were told never to leave the compound without a designated, responsible adult. Western amenities were abundant within the compound. Outside however, China’s world was experiencing tumultuous change -- and, for the worse.
