1876
CHINESE THEATER TRAGEDY (SAN FRANCISCO)
In
1876, San Francisco’s Chinatown was a cramped world of narrow,
lantern-lined streets and alleys, shops, restaurants and theaters. Scarcely
a quarter-century old, it had arisen during the gold rush as the business
and cultural for Chinese who flocked to the mines. It had become an
insulated world, infrequently visited by whites (many of whom loathe
the presence of any Asians in the United States), and often ignored
by the rest of the city.
The
theater provided a means of escape from the sense of isolation that
often pervaded Chinatown. In San Francisco there were two Chinese theaters,
with the Chinese Royal Theater at 622 Jackson Street, near Dupont, being
the most popular. Across the street was the Chinese Thespian Temple.
Chinese plays were rather dull affairs to the American eye, but the
Chinese enjoyed them. Usually they were representations of historical
events – a consecutive nightly presentation that might last three
months. In the traveling companies, only men could appear on stage and
any female parts were played by a male. When a character died on stage,
after giving his last grasp, he simply got up and walked off stage rather
than bringing down the curtain to signal the event. In fact, there was
no curtain.
Lawsuits
by Chinese Actors
N.Y. Times / July 21, 1877 |
In June, 1876, a company of nine Chinese dramatic
artists arrived in the port of San Francisco under a year's engagement
to Ngn Fun Choy, lessees and general managers of the Royal Chinese
Theatre on Jackson-street. The contract had been prudently made
in China, where the laws regulating even the employment of theatrical
people are as severe as those of New Jersey in regard to prize
fighting, and as unalterable as those of the Medes and Persians
and other people in that vicinity. . . . . . . . . .
.
. . . . the troupe had learned that for the regulation Asiatic
tragedy in 5,000 acts, with which they proposed following up their
little humorous representation, they could make much more profitable
terms with the Luk Suhn Fung Company, managers of the Oriental
Academy of Music, directly opposite the Chinese Royal Theater.
Between the two theaters there is a bitter rivalry, wherein, as
in most other things, the Chinaman is not an exception to any
other nationality. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . Upon gaining their freedom they have each
instituted action in the Fifteenth District Court to recover from
the company $1,200 for false imprisonment, and the lessees of
the Academy of Music have, in the same Court, likewise commenced
an action to recover from the same company $5,000 for preventing
the fulfillment of their contract. A week or two ago the released
artists opened at the opposition theater. The
excitement in Chinese circles had been intense, with the sentiment
all in favor of the oppressed actors . . . . . Upon examination
it was found to proceed from a piece of punk which communicated
with a slow fuse, and which, in turn was connected with a deposit
of from 10 to 12 pounds of powder so tamped and arranged that
it would, on its explosion that night, have blown Messrs. Luk
Suhn Fung Company’s Academy of Music and their talented
histrionic celebrities and their patrons even further from China
than they are at present. This well laid plan of wholesome murder,
which was so accidentally averted, is not the only evil growing
out of the contention of the theatrical companies.
|
The
Chinese theaters were unusual in other aspects, too. The stage was simple,
sets were minimal and, aside from a few box seats, the audience sat
mostly on benches. An orchestra consisted usually of five or six musicians
playing gongs, drums, oriental fiddlers and other assorted instruments.
There was no shouting or yelling by the audience, as in American theater.
The Chinese patron was content to merely nod or sigh in reflecting emotion.
Special
police were employed by the Chinese – white men who were members
of the police force, but paid by the Chinese property owners. They kept
order in the “Quarter,” and did what they could to hold
down vice, but frequently were compromised to overlook dozens of gambling
and opium dens, as well as the bordellos of Chinatown. The theaters
could also be trouble spots. There had been several recent near-riots
in a Chinese theater, when individuals wanting free admissions would
yell “fire” in a theater window. In the resulting exodus
they either purloined a ticket, or re-entered unnoticed with the returning
crowd of regular patrons. The San Francisco Chronicle reported:
“The
terror-stricken audience, not delaying to look around and determine
the truth or falsity of the cry, would rush for the door over the benches
and in the greatest confusion. The policeman who was watchful would
quickly swing open the closed doors and, drawing his club, push his
way in until he reached a bench where he would stand frantically waving
the crowd back and applying his club vigorously to the ones in front.
The sight of the officer would immediately allay the fears of the Chinamen
in the rear and . . . . . .
On
the sidewalk, a hoodlum asked if any white men had been killed. When
he was assured that only Chinese had died, he replied, motioning with
his foot toward the many bodies, “Good, it don’t matter
about these.”
The
dead were all laid out at the coroner’s office on Sacramento Street.
A huge crowd of curious whites attempted to view the bodies and, finally,
it was announced that only Chinese would be admitted to identify the
nineteen victims. The verdict of the coroner’s jury was that the
theater deaths were accidental, but it was recommended that the grand
jury look into “the construction of said theater as regards its
means of egress.”
The
bodies were placed in express wagons and taken to various homes, while
others were prepared for shipment back to China. As Chinatown mourned,
the rest of San Francisco fast lost interest in the tragedy and went
back to work. \
1876
MARK TWAIN & BRETE HARTE'S "AH SIN
Harte and Twain's Ah
Sin is perhaps the most influential of plays that satirized the
Anti-coolie clubs, anti-Chinese movements and benigh stereotypes through
their the mischievous, gibberish-speaking Ah Sin.