Preservationists in Beijing awoke last weekend to find that the house of the famous architects Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin had been reduced to rubble.

BEIJING — Even in its prime, the house at 24 Beizongbu Hutong was no architectural jewel, just one of countless brick-and-timber courtyard homes that clogged the labyrinthine heart of this ancient imperial capital.

But for seven years in the 1930s, it sheltered one of modern China’s most fabled couples, Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin, Ivy League-educated architects who had returned home to champion the notion that a great nation should hold dear its historic patrimony. It was Mr. Liang, the debonair son from an illustrious family of intellectuals, who urged the victorious Communists to preserve Beijing’s Yuan dynasty grid and its hulking city walls. Mao, the country’s unsentimental leader, thought otherwise.

So when architectural preservationists awoke last weekend to find that the couple’s house had been reduced to rubble, there was a predictable wave of outrage, but also a sense of helplessness that an official “immovable cultural relic” could be so easily dispatched by a government-affiliated real estate company.

The cultural bureaucrats who oversee the preservation of historic sites in the Dongcheng district neighborhood were not particularly moved by the building’s demise, which took place furtively during the Lunar New Year holiday, a time when much of the country shuts down.

“A replica will be built,” one official unapologetically told the state news media.

In a city that has watched its centuries-old, low-rise fabric steadily be supplanted by soulless glass towers or, in some cases, pastiche recreations of the past, the destruction of 24 Beizongbu Hutong was a cruel irony given the passions of its former occupants. In a flurry of articles and editorials last week, the national news media denounced the demolition as a wanton violation of the country’s laws and an affront to Chinese history.

Even the normally stolid state news service, Xinhua, was sharp in its criticism. “House Demolished, Culture Wounded” was the main headline on its home page on Thursday. In one of several articles and editorials, Xinhua attacked the municipal government’s complacency.

“A cultural relic is destroyed and a new phrase is born,” said one commentary, a sarcastic reference to the city official who had described the destruction as “renovation through demolition.” The editorial noted that of 533,000 landmarks documented by the National Bureau of Cultural Relics last year, 44,000 had already disappeared. “Behind such cold figures, hundreds and thousands of pages of historical information have vanished alongside these buildings,” it said.

Even if distraught by the loss of a house he had tried so hard to save, He Shuzhong, one of the city’s best-known preservation advocates, said he had found some solace in the unusually vociferous public uproar. The outrage, he said, was tied not only to the realization that Beijing had lost too much of its past, but also to a sense that the city’s frenetic pursuit of modernization and material excess had left many citizens feeling adrift.

“Liang Sicheng and Lin Huiyin, after all, promoted the ideal that intellectuals and experts should commit themselves to improving society and the nation,” said Mr. He, whose nonprofit group, the Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center, successfully fought to have the house designated a historic landmark in 2009. “I think people find that modern China lacks that sense of devotion, which is why the loss of this building means so much.”

The lives of Mr. Liang and Ms. Lin, typified, in some ways, the experience of many Western-educated Chinese who were determined to help build the new China — but were often rewarded with great hardship.

After studying at the University of Pennsylvania, they returned in 1928 and carried out the first exhaustive study of China’s architectural history, scrambling across the tiled roofs of millennium-old temples to decipher long-lost building practices.

They established an architecture school in the northeastern city of Shenyang and turned their Beijing home into a salon for the city’s leading philosophers, poets and artists. Mr. Liang represented China on the team that designed the United Nations headquarters in New York.

After Mao asked him to come up with a new urban plan for Beijing in 1949, Mr. Liang, inspired by the painstaking preservation of European capitals, proposed building a new urban development adjacent to the walled metropolis and turning its towering ramparts into a linear park. Mao rejected the idea, deciding that the imperial city and its brooding walls were unwanted symbols of China’s feudal past. The night before the demolition began, Mr. Liang sat atop the wall and wept.

In the years that followed, Mr. Liang went on to foster a new national style of architecture that married Chinese and Western motifs. His most recognizable contribution to the city may be the Monument to the People’s Heroes, the sobering stone obelisk that anchors the center of Tiananmen Square.

Like many intellectuals, his fortunes faded during the upheavals of the 1950s, and more profoundly during Mao’s decade-long Cultural Revolution. Hounded for his Western education and affinity for Chinese antiquities, he was attacked as a counterrevolutionary and died in 1972. (Ms. Lin succumbed to tuberculosis in 1955. Her great-niece, the American architect Maya Lin, designed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington.)

It took another three decades before city officials would come to appreciate — at least on paper — the ideals espoused by the man known as the father of modern Chinese architecture. It was in 2005, after nearly half the city’s 3,000 narrow alleys, or hutongs, had been erased, that the municipal government issued a plan to preserve what remained of the historic core.

That plan, however, has sometimes felt like a taunt, especially during the preparations for the 2008 Summer Olympics, when government-backed developers took huge bites out of the protected quarter. “They issued a grand plan, but the demolitions never paused,” said Hua Xinmin, a preservation advocate whose father succeeded Mr. Liang as the city’s planning chief.

It is tempting to imagine the demise of 24 Beizongbu Hutong as Beijing’s Pennsylvania Station moment, when outrage over the demolition of the iconic rail terminus in New York City catalyzed the preservation movement in the United States.

But judging by the pessimism of the architecture students, history buffs and ordinary Beijingers who made a pilgrimage to the rubble-strewn site last week, there is little reason to expect any change in the status quo.

The visitors, though, were nothing if not determined as they tried to maneuver around a scrum of young guards in their quest to photograph a skeletal wood entryway, the only remains of the house.

An old man silently watched the hubbub, but once prompted, he eagerly dispensed details about the house and the neighborhood in which he was born.

“This hutong used to be filled with famous people,” said the man, 76, a retired postal worker who gave only his surname, Ma.

He gestured behind him to a stretch of debris and then in front of him, to his home, also marked with the Chinese character for demolish. Not far away thrummed the Second Ring Road — the highway that replaced Mr. Liang’s beloved city wall.

“Everyone is gone,” Mr. Ma said with a wave of his hand. “When the government says it’s time to go, you go.”

Click here to read the article at the New York Times website

Introduction

Hougulouyuan Hutong is a winding alley running generally north-south. It starts at Gulou East Street in the north, and ends at Qiangulouyuan Hutong to the south. Nanluoguxiang lies to the east, and Di’anmenwai Street to the west.  It is 225 meters in length and average 4 meters in width. The house numbers on one side range from 1 to 27, and from 2 to 40 on the other. During the Xuantong period, it was called Hougulouyuan because that it was adjacent to Qiangulouyuan Hutong.  This name continued to be used after the founding of the Republic of China. In 1965, when the government modified the place names, Daheng Hutong was merged into it, and the entire alley was called “Hougulouyuan Hutong”. After that its name changed several times, until it regained its former name in 1979. The buildings in the Hutong are primarily residential.

Qiushi High School:

According to the Brief Guide of Beijing edited by Yao Zhuxuan, Qiushi High School was in Hougulou Yuan outside Di’anmen.

Qiushi High School was one of the earliest private high schools established in China. The address of the school for boys was No. 202, Gulou East Street, and the school for girls was in No. 18 in Hougulouyuan Hutong, which has now become the 23^rd High School in Beijing (No. 152 in Gulou East Street). In the 27^th year of the Guangxu Emperor (1901), the school was established by Jiang Wuxing, who was the head of the editors of dynastic history.  Wen Bin, along with Bao Xi, and other editors were collectively called the “Qiushi Academy”.  In the following year, Wen Bin became the headmaster of the school, and changed its name to “The Eight Banners of Jueluo Middle School”.

The school changed its name to “Qiushi Middle School” around the 30^th year in Guangxu Emperor.  In 1912, After the revolution, this school received its present name of “Qiushi High School.” The school consisted of a primary school and a middle school, and contained its own dormitory.  In 1929, girls were allowed to attend this school. The tuition for the normal primary school was one yuan per month; for the advanced primary school was two yuan, the middle school three yuan. The fee for the dormitory was two and a half yuan per month. The school was funded entirely by tuition fees. If these were not enough for operating costs the founders would contribute their own funds. According to the rules, the graduates of Qiushi were given equal opportunity with public school graduates to enter the ranks of government after graduation.  In short, Qiushi High School was one of Beijing’s most outstanding private schools.

Jizu Temple

According to the record The History of Temples in Beijing, Jizu temple was located at No. 18 in Hougulouyuan Hutong, and was built in the 24th year of the Kangxi Emperor, during the Qing Dynasty. The temple took up 7 acres in area. There were 30 rooms including the temple gates and the main halls. One part of the temple was rented to Qiushi High School but the temple no longer stands.

yingbi screen carving in restored courtyard in Hougulouyuan Hutong

Reference:

Zhong Jianwei. The History of the Place names in Dongcheng District, Beijing

LI, Tiesheng, Zhang Endong, editor. The History of Nanluogu Allay

LI, Tiehu. A Glimpse of the Middle Schools in Beiping under the Domination of the Japanese Puppet Government. 1996. 04

Two western journalists, annoyed by what they saw as sensational and sloppy reporting about the destruction of Beijing’s old neighborhoods, have shot a series three short videos intended to add nuance to the issue.

The resulting project, A Vanishing World, portrays the dilemmas faced by residents who are reluctant to leave their old single-story courtyard homes, but at the same time crave conveniences such as modern heating, hot water, and indoor toilets.

The filmmakers find:

1. Despite regulations in place to protect the historic neighborhoods, known locally as hutong, the destruction continues.

2. Although people being relocated have a right to complain, there is no board to complain to.

3. Residents don’t have enough money to renovate the overcrowded homes, even though the government is funneling hundreds of millions of yuan into these old neighborhoods.

“The problem is this money is not going to the right places,” said Jonah Kessel, who made the videos along with Kit Gillet.

The measures in place are “kind of for show,” Kessel said. “Make something to appease a public demand, but the reality is not there.”

Better life

Despite these findings, Kessel said that reports characterizing the government’s actions as a simple land-grab are missing an important point: The residents want and deserve a better quality of life. “These people are not feeling the benefits of modernization,” he explains. “They are dealing with problems that are very basic, Heat, Toilets, Emergency vehicle access.”

These problems are complicated by the crowded conditions in the old neighborhoods. For example, building an indoor toilet means someone needs to move out to make room for it.

Kessel said the project started with him complaining to the Asia Society In New York about media coverage in particular of the redevelopment issue.

“I read things in Western newspapers that said things like, “The Chinese government wants to Disney-fy Gulou,” he explains.

“That type of editorializing doesn’t help tell people what’s going on,” Much of the reporting, particularly video and photo slideshows on the web, seemed to leave out the most important part of the story—the residents, he said.

“I wanted to give them a voice—but I also wanted to give the voice of their reality. The area has tremendous cultural value; however, the living conditions of the area are not that of a modern society. The real question is: How can you modernize at such a rapid pace and preserve your culture.” The Asia Society funded the project, and Kessel and Gillet spoke to current and former residents, city planners, professors, activists and lawyers who deal with displacement cases. They found several competing agendas at work.

“You have the developers and the officials who seem to be holding hands down the aisle—they have a clear agenda to create revenue—quickly.” On the other hand, the government invests millions of renminbi every year into the old city. “But how that money is spent is an elusive and questionable topic,” Kessel said.

Wang Youyin, lawyer from Beijing Shengyan law Firm said, “Currently a large portion of China’s GDP comes from revenues raised in land sales. The government earns income by selling the land, and the construction companies earn money by investing in the Land and developing it.”

A hutong resident Zhang Wei expressed his doubt, “They (the government) told us that the hutongs had to be torn down due to road construction but they just really wanted more commercial expansion.”

Beijing’s model

Kessel supports the work of the Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center(CHP), which is screening the films on Saturday. However, preservation group did not give any money to his project. “CHP is not trying to stand up to the government, saying we have to stop this.” Instead, they are trying to educate people about the value of preserving Beijing’s old neighborhoods.

We hope more people can pay attention to the heritage protection in Beijing. And people can express their own views after watching the film,” said Zhang Pei, a media coordinator from CHP.

Founder and chairman He Shuzhong of CHP, where the film will be showing, told some officials’ attitude. “Before most government officials of a lower rank took pride in taking and displaying photographs of them with bureaucrats ranked higher than them. Now the trend is for the bureaucrats to pose with important businessmen and developers, and to display those group shots in the most prominent position.”

Kessel said the government faces three main choices: gentrifying, redeveloping or renovating.

The videos will also be posted on the Asia Society’s website, along with two slideshows and a digital hutong tour, created by mounting a steadicam on a rickshaw.

“We found almost all Beijingers were against gentrification,” he said.  ”Person after person told us how much they disliked fake hutong, and particularly the Wanfujing area.”

Residents were also against redevelopment, but at the same time did not have money to renovate. Many felt economically trapped.

“They want better living conditions but are powerless unless the government relocates and compensates them,” he said. “Then you have conservationists, whose agenda is to keep old Beijing real.”

“Compensation was another big issue. With rising real estate prices, the compensation isn’t enough and residents are often forced to move Io areas far outside the city center. Ten years ago, the money was enough, but now residents feel cheated.” he said.

Apart from the compensation issue, residents find it can be hard to get their views heard. “Within the timeframe, according to the current laws, there is a hearing allowance process, where the individuals directly affected by the demolition retain tire power to express their opinions or opposition to the construction plans. But since there are no committees to sit on the hearings, the reality is that the opportunity to protest is lost, and those affected rarely have an actual venue to express their opposition towards the destruction of their homes,” said lawyer Wang Youyin.

The filmmakers feel the issue’s relevance goes far beyond Beijing and China. “How Beijing deals with redeveloping its old neighborhoods will be a model for other cities in China. This problem exists throughout the country and the developing world,” said Kessel.

Introduction

Qiangulouyuan Hutong runs east to west. It starts at Nanluoguxiang in the east, and ends at Nanxiawazi Hutong in the west. It is 261 meters in length, and 6 meters in width. The house numbers on one side ranges from 1 to 19, while on the other side range from 2 to 14. In the Ming Dynasty, it belonged to the Zhaohuijinggong District, and was called Gulao Hutong because it was a home for the elderly (gulao meaning old).  In the Qing Dynasty, it belonged to the Bordered Yellow Banner, and was called Qiangulou yuan , during the Qianlong Period.  During the Xuantong Period, the name was changed to Qiangulouyuan. This name remained for a short period of time after the founding of the PRC.  Afterwards, its name changed several times, until it regained its former name in 1979.  Now the No.8 and No. 9 courtyards are Cultural Heritage Protection Sites, while the others are mostly residences

No.8 and No. 9 Qiangulouyuan Hutong:

These courtyards were built at the end of the Qing Dynasty, and are now private residential buildings.  The residence was divided into three courtyards, oriented from north facing south. Preserved buildings include a Manzi Gate, located in the southeast corner of the courtyard with a Yingshan style roof.  Inside the gate, there is a sheltering wall. The first courtyard features a seven-hall reversely-set wing, and a Yidian Yijuan style Chuihua Gate to the north. Looking at the both sides, you can see that there are patterns in the tile and carving of the characters “Fu” and “Shou.” However, both of characters are now difficult to distinguish. The second yard has five rooms in the north wing with a covered walkway at the front and back of the yard. There are two side rooms attached to the north wing. There are east and west wings of three rooms each on the east and west. A sideroom attaches to each of the rooms at the south. A covered walkway links the rooms in the four directions. All the roofs of the rooms in the second yard are Yingshan style, and there are qiaoti between the pillars in the central bay. In the third yard, there are seven rooms behind the main rooms, of which the roofs are Yingshan style.

The courtyard’s layout is quite precise and the buildings exquisite.  It is a typical medium-sized traditional courtyard in Beijing, and was well protected. This courtyard was announced as a Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Site on March 8^th, 2001.

Jinde Middle School:

According to the Guidebook of Beiping edited by Ma Zhixiang, Jinde Middle School located in No. 4 in Qiangulouyuan Hutong. Jinde Middle School was established in 1927, headed by schoolmaster Zhu Yichen. It was a basic level school compared with other private middle schools.  In late 1920s, the school moved from No. 5 in Daxiaofo Temple of Gulou East Street to No. 4 in Qiangulouyuan Hutong.

Yuqing Girl’s Advanced Vocational School:

According to the Guidebook of Beiping edited by Ma Zhixiang, Yuqing Girl’s Advanced Vocational School was located in No. 3 in Qiangulouyuan Hutong. Yuqing Girl’s Advanced Vocational School was established in 1940 by Yin Changwei Yin Meibo (who was part of the Manchukuo puppet state), and also an imperial bannerman during the Qing Dynasty. There were about 200 students there at that time. This school was a secondary education institution. Subjects of study included housekeeping, official document writing, and commerce.  After China’s victory in the War of Resistance against Japan, the Communist party took over the school and appointed Gao Guangdou as headmaster.

Almshouse for Lonely Old People:

According to Wanshu Miscellaney, there were two almshouses in Ming Dynasty Beijing. One of them, located in the Wanping District, was in subdivision west of the river channel, while the other was in Daxing, in Fuqian Gulao Hutong. That is to say, the almshouse in Daxing District is in what is now Qiangulouyuan Hutong.

During the Ming Dynasty, elderly people went to the almshouse to live together.  Some received food and clothes from the government, and lived with their relatives. According to the residence registration laws in the Family Law Section of the Great Ming Code, those who had no companion or kin and could not support themselves, and who were ill or unable to work, should be adopted by the local government and supplied with food and clothes.  Those who would not accept such assistance would be punished.  In the 19th year of the first Ming Emperor, Hongwu (1386), a law stated that those who had no relative should be given 60 pecks of rice. In the 1st year in Emperor Jianwen (1399), the amount changed to 30 pecks. Only those who had no relatives could enter the almshouses. In the 1st year of the Tianshun Emperor (1457), the government established two almshouses in Daxing and Wanping District, which provided two meals for those accepted.  In the 2nd year of the Chenghua Emperor (1466), the government gave an order that all the poor people should be taken into the almshouses.  Until the 16th year of the Chenghua Emperor (1480), the government had supported about 7,490 old people in total, and gave them more than 269,000 pecks of rice and 740 bolts of cloth.  In the 1st year of the Jiajing Emperor (1522), the emperor ordered that poor people in Beijing should be adopted.  If the censors found any beggar in the street, they were to send them to the Shuntianfu almshouse. In the 9^th year (1530), it was ordered that all the local officers should make an earnest attempt to improve the almshouses.  And in the next year the government again enjoined local officers to adopt poor people. In the 1st year of Wanli Emperor (1573), the almshouses adopted 1,080 people in total. When the emperor married in the 7^th year (1579), the almshouses adopted 500 additional people. In the 10^th year, when the emperor had his first child, 585 people were enrolled in the almshouses. The two almshouses in Daxing and Wanping had approximately the same number of residents.

According to Ming dynasty records, when an almshouse was going to adopt a person, the government should check his hometown, age, and family background carefully. At the same time, his political and moral condition would be taken into consideration. Those who displayed bad behaviors, such as stirring up trouble or regularly violating laws, could not be enrolled in an almshouse.  The specific standards were called the “Five Investigations.” These entailed “checking if he had any children, if he had any relative, if he had any property, if he had immoral behavior or violated the laws.” Only those who passed the five investigations could enter the almshouses.

Reference:

ZHONG, Jianwei. The History of the Place names in Dongcheng District, Beijing

LI, Tiesheng, ZHANG, Endong edited. The Historiette of Nanluogu Alley

We are now in the process of developing our first in-depth bilingual brochure/map to the Nanluoguxiang area, detailing historic sights, interesting stories, and other information that will allow visitors and residents to form a deeper connection to Beijing’s hutongs.  We hope to launch this by the spring, and eventually we will be developing in-depth heritage trail guides and an interactive website for several districts in Beijing’s old city.

Visit the Heritage Trail page for the latest updates!