Growing Up Jewish in China

By Dolly Beil

A colorful memoir of Jewish life in China during the first half of the twentieth century.

Dolly Beil spent the first part of her life in the Chinese cities of Tsingtao (Qingdao), Mukden (Shenyang), Harbin, and Tientsin (Tianjin). Her father, owner of a jewellery store and a businessman, descended from the prominent family of Solomon Guterman, who owned an estate in Irkutsk, Russia. Her mother was one of three daughters of Grigory Lazarovich Gershevich, who built the first hotel in the northern city of Harbin, located on Pacific Road.

The year of Dolly's birth -- 1927 -- meant that she and her family, part of the country's small Jewish community, would live through events that would change China, and them, forever:

• The Japanese occupation
• Liberation by Americans at the end of World War II
• Civil war between Nationalist and Communist forces
• The flight of foreign nationals from an increasingly closed society

Beil's entertaining stories will draw you into an unusual blend of European and Asian life in the country of her early joys and sorrows: China, the country that she loves so much to this very day.

Includes seventy black and white photos.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BPS Books
• Release date: Jun 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781927483176

Dolly Beil

Dolly Beil is a writer and speaker. After immigrating to Canada, in 1952, she owned and managed a successful jewellery and antique store, importing jade and other artefacts from China. She lives in Toronto.

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From Russia

with

Love

The City of Tsingtao

In Shantung, a northern maritime province in China, notable in that country’s history as the home of Confucius, there is a lovely port city called Tsingtao. This is where I was born, on December 25, 1927.

Shantung Province is dotted with lakes and intersected by the Yellow and Chiaolai rivers, and the Grand Canal, and opens to the Yellow Sea. It was opened to Western trade as a result of China’s 1858 treaty with Great Britain and Germany.

Shantung became a centre of international conflict in 1898, when Germany forced China to lease Kiaochow, including Tsingtao, to it and to grant it railway concessions. Just after the outbreak of World War I, Japan seized Kiaochow and obtained a secret agreement from Allied powers, recognizing her claims over Shantung. At the peace conference of 1919, the representatives of the Allied powers admitted Japan’s claim. There were strong protests from China, and, at the Washington conference in 1922, Japan agreed to withdraw her troops from China. Then, before 1937, Japan twice sent troops to Shantung, occupying it until 1945.

Tsingtao is one of several ports that have played a significant role in China’s foreign relations. It was known as a very prestigious summer resort – a playground for the wealthy. It was inhabited mostly by Germans. The city was quite prosperous: It had its own industry, and many foreign ships docked in its harbour. Industrialists established themselves there, aided by Prussian military might, and took advantage of cheap labour, natural resources, and the city’s deep all-weather port.

The German residents of Tsingtao built a city of sturdy, spacious houses, with a vast cathedral and a popular shopping district. They made Tsingtao into a prosperous, middle-class Bavarian settlement.

Tsingtao’s natural setting is appealing. Its many sandy beaches and mountainous islands provide a backdrop of exceptional beauty. In close proximity to it rises Laoshan, a small but wondrous mountain, the principal river of which provides water for China’s best beer, Tsingtao beer. Our family often visited Laoshan during the summer, enjoying lavish picnics among the tall grasses and wild flowers of this lovely retreat.

Tsingtao’s beaches were the main attraction for tourists. During the summer months, they were filled with vacationing families. The city also included wealthy Chinese, some English residents, and numerous other nationalities. It was prosperous, with many foreign ships, including ones from America, docking at its harbour.

China’s Rich and Colourful History

China has a very long and colourful history. While that history includes the presence of Jews, they were a decidedly tiny minority, a speck in a sea of Han Chinese. The Han are indigenous to China and are the single largest ethnic group in the world. They constitute ninety-two percent of the population of the People’s Republic of China, and about nineteen percent of the entire human population.

Between the various Han subgroups in China, there is substantial linguistic, genetic, cultural, and social diversity, mainly because of thousands of years of regionalized assimilation, throughout China, of various ethnic groups and tribes.

The land of my birth was a region comprising the northeastern portion of China, known to the Chinese as Tungpei and to the West as Manchuria. The Manchus had established the Manchu dynasty from 1644 to 1911. The people of present-day Manchuria, however, are mainly Chinese. The great majority of Manchus have adopted Chinese names, customs, and language. Many Chinese refer to themselves as descendants of the dragon. Han Chinese are traditionally symbolized by the colour of red, though the Emperors wore the colour of yellow, known as Imperial Yellow.

Shortly after the Opium War that ended in l892, China was forced to open some of its ports for trade. Before that time, the country was self-sufficient. In fact, it had been ahead of most countries for centuries. It had prospered under a succession of dynasties and would have been perfectly content to be left alone. China abhorred all outsiders, calling them foreign devils.

Nevertheless, superiority in weaponry enabled foreign powers – primarily England, France, Germany, and Russia – to enter the port of Canton and proclaim victory, forcing the Chinese to cede territory.

European countries sent their representatives to form small legations in the port cities. Later they invaded more cities and set up concessions, areas in the cities where they could freely establish businesses, strengthen trade ties, and develop their community. Over time, Russian, German, Italian, French, and British concessions were formed. This gave them an open door to China.

The Second Generation

Though Jewish, I am second-generation Chinese, for my mother was born and raised in China. Further, I lived there for the formative years of my life, in the cities of Tsingtao, Mukden, Harbin, and Tientsin, with extensive trips to other parts of the country and to Japan.

My grandfather on my mother’s side, Grigory Lazarovich Gershevich, was born in Russia in l874. He travelled to China from Vladivostok to Manchuria in l892 looking for opportunities when construction of the Trans-Siberian railway was starting. In l903 he became a contractor and supplied railroad ties for the Trans-Siberian railway. A few years later, he built the first hotel in Manchuria, which he named the Grand Hotel. Prior to this, all of the engineers and supervisors and some government officials, primarily Russian, lived in makeshift tents surrounded by mud, exposed to the elements and wild animals. Not exactly an ideal situation.

The Grand Hotel, a luxury hotel with a gourmet restaurant, offered all of the amenities. It was completed in 1905.

That year, my grandfather returned to Achensk, Russia, in search of a bride.

The Beautiful Bride

In that city was a beautiful young woman, Sarah Mihailovna Shvetz. She and her brother were the only children of a widow.

The young bride Sarah.

There had been a tragedy in the life of this young woman with an aspiring spirit and brilliant mind. While attending university, she had met a bright and handsome young man named Michael who was studying at the same university and was planning to enter a medical faculty to become a doctor. He courted Sarah and the two quickly became inseparable. Everyone commented on what a handsome couple they made. Sarah knew they would marry once they completed their studies.

One summer evening, Michael’s comrades invited him to accompany them the next day for a picnic and perhaps some hunting. Being a good sport, he agreed.

As the young men sat on the grass after a brief lunch, one of them asked Michael to go hunting with him. Jokingly, he pointed a pellet gun at Michael’s face and pretended to shoot. He thought the gun wasn’t loaded, but to his horror a load of pellets hit Michael’s face full blast, blinding him. All his friends rushed to his side and half-carried him in a race to the hospital.

The doctors did their best to save his eyesight, but alas, Michael was blinded for life.

Sarah collapsed when she heard the terrible news. She wrung her hands and wept as all of her friends tried to comfort her. She resolved never to leave Michael.

Sarah’s mother, Maria Shvetz, had also suffered a tragedy. Her husband, while on leave from the Russian army, into which he had been conscripted as a child soldier, stopped at an inn to get out of a storm. As he tied up his horse and started to retrieve his luggage, a bolt of lightning struck. His horse, spooked, kicked him in the stomach and he died within a few hours.

Having suffered such a loss, Sarah’s mother urged her daughter to abandon her blind lover and seek someone else. She reasoned that Sarah would not have a normal life with a blind man. He would not be able to make a living for himself, let alone support a wife; eventually, they would both be miserable.

This was when Grigory Gershevich appeared on the scene seeking a bride. He was told of a beautiful young woman in town, the daughter of a widow, a jewel worthy of a man of his status.

Grigory asked some friends to arrange a meeting with this lovely young woman. They approached Sarah’s mother and told her there was a prestigious and very wealthy man who wished to meet her daughter, and that marriage was on his mind.

Sarah’s mother, Maria Shvetz.

After a quiet dinner, Maria carefully approached her daughter, excited by the news she had to share.

Sarah burst into tears upon hearing her mother. She did not want to see any other man, she said. Her heart would always belong to her blinded lover.

Maria tried to reason with her, but to no avail.

Eventually it was arranged that Grigory Gershevich would get a glimpse of her. When that moment came, he immediately fell in love with her and could not get her out of his mind. Time passed but Sarah was still in grief over her lover’s plight and was as determined as ever to stay with him. Grigory Gershevich would not give up that easily, however. He understood the challenge he was up against. He decided he would win Sarah slowly and patiently.

Friends of Sarah’s mother arranged a small tea-gathering for Sarah and told her that this was an opportunity of a lifetime, and that in this small community she would never get such a chance again. Moreover, if she married Grigory, she would have life of plenty and luxury, and her mother, a poor widow, would have an easier life.

After much persuasion, Sarah finally agreed to meet Grigory. After their first meeting, Grigory was even more enthralled with her beauty and her charm. He started to court her in earnest, telling her interesting things about China, and finally she agreed to accompany him back to Harbin, China.

As soon as they arrived there, Grigory started to make lavish preparations for their wedding. He ordered Sarah’s trousseau from the Catholic convent where the nuns embroidered her initials on lovely batiste underwear, nightgowns, and negligées in pastel colours, as well as on sheets, pillowslips, and comforter covers made of the finest linen.

My maternal grandparents, Sarah and Grigory, on their wedding day.

The wedding was a very posh affair. Sarah wore a magnificent gown, custom designed and detailed for her. Her silky raven hair was swept back and contrasted with her turquoise-blue eyes, naturally pink cheeks, and milky white skin. She wore diamonds, for Grigory was a very generous man. However, many of the wedding guests said that the tears in Sarah’s eyes outshone the diamonds she wore.

The Grand Hotel

By this time, the Grand Hotel, situated on Pacific Road, had been completed. Grigory and his young bride took the entire upper floor of the hotel as their residence.

The Grand Hotel became popular and gave Grigory a good living. Sarah now had a life of luxury, something her poor widowed mother could have only dreamed about.

Soon afterward, Sarah became pregnant. She gave birth to her first child, a daughter named Bassia, in l907. Then came another daughter, Eva, in 1908 and a third, Lucy, in 1909.

Three years after Lucy’s birth, a terrible catastrophe happened.

A guest arrived at the hotel and took a palatial suite on the third floor. Everyone was impressed with his entourage of servants. After a few days had passed, the hotel staff wondered why no one had seen this person since his arrival, or any of those who had come with him.

The situation was brought to the attention of Mr. Grigory Gershevich, who immediately made it his business to investigate.

Taking one of the staff with him, he knocked on the door to the third-floor suite several times, but no one answered. Grigory ordered the door to be unlocked. When he entered the darkened suite, he noticed that it was abandoned and was horrified to find the man lying on the luxurious double bed of one of the bedrooms, apparently dead. He asked for the heavy drapes over the windows to be parted and saw that the bed was soaked with blood.

Grigory immediately summoned the police to investigate, and they were followed by the coroner. He determined that the man had died of the dreaded pneumonic plague, which had reached epidemic status in Harbin. The authorities immediately ordered all of the furnishings on the entire floor of the hotel to be burned in the courtyard. They also ordered the Grand Hotel to be closed for quarantine.

The Bankruptcy

This was the most horrible circumstance in Grigory Gershevich’s life. The epidemic eventually died out, but everyone avoided the Grand Hotel once the news circulated that a plague victim had died there.

Grigory had to declare bankruptcy. However, he was a resilient and resourceful man. He began to look around for new property to develop for a new hotel. Meanwhile, he settled his family in a little rented house.

At that time, a newcomer arrived from Russia. His name was Leonid Solomonovich Guterman. He was a dashing, elegant young man of good standing. He was looking for a place to stay. He was introduced to Grigory Gershevich, who took a liking to him and offered to rent him a spare room in his house. Leonid was quite pleased with this arrangement. After moving in, he quickly fit in with the family.

Meanwhile, Grigory continued to investigate the real estate market. Luckily, he came upon a property owned by an Anglican priest. It was a large, impressive building with a huge courtyard that also included a spacious house. Grigory proposed to rent the building and the house from him, with the intention of refurbishing the large building into a formidable hotel. The priest agreed and the deal was struck.

So my grandfather, Mr. Grigory Gershevich, once again became the proprietor of a hotel, which he called Hotel Central for its central location. He then settled his family in the large house in the courtyard. Once again he became prosperous, with his new hotel doing very well.

By that time, Sarah’s old, widowed mother, Maria Shvetz, had come to China and had taken up residence with them. Members of the family had all of the luxuries, including servants and their own chef. They also employed a German governess by the name of Fraulein Amalia, who looked after the children. She was strict but fair, and the children really liked her.

All of the meals were served in the elegant dining room. Grigory enjoyed entertaining and often invited important guests to dinner.

At that time, Sarah began to take an interest in dentistry. She studied in the faculty of dentistry in Harbin, which was very much up to the standard of similar European establishments. The faculty offered courses in anatomy as well as standard courses in dentistry. On its premises, cadavers were dissected, as medical knowledge was essential for dentists. Sarah often complained that she could not eat after sessions in anatomy. She took her studies seriously – indeed, there is a dramatic photo of her studying in front of a human skull (see opposite).

In 1915, after completing her studies, Sarah took preliminary exams in Harbin and was given a certificate of excellence. On the strength of that certificate, she travelled to Moscow, where she completed the Tsarist exams in the Russian faculty of dentistry. She won an honorary Tsarist diploma and a gold medal for extraordinary achievement. She happened to be the only woman in the faculty.

Sarah (left), studying with a fellow dentistry student.

Leonid Guterman.

Upon returning to Harbin, Sarah shared a practice with the renowned dentist Dr. I. Iruga, for about four years. She quickly became well known and successful.

During that time, Leonid Guterman, who was still staying with the family, made an impression on Sarah. Suave and brilliant, he entered into many interesting conversations with her. She found him fascinating – much more so than her husband.

Sarah and her three daughters.

The store in Tsingtao. At centre are Sandy (left), an employee, and the owner, Leonid.

However, Leonid Solomonovich Guterman was himself a married man, and his wife, Elisabeth, and his daughter, Vera, who was one year older than Bassia, soon joined him in Harbin. Leonid found a comfortable apartment for them.

Sarah could not resist being in Leonid’s company. While Grigory hosted important dinners in his hotel for visiting dignitaries, she spent cosy evenings with Leonid.

Though Sarah was doing very well in Harbin, she heard that the beautiful port city of Tsingtao was really the place to be. It was an elite city, where prestigious foreigners lived, and was classified as one of the most beautiful resort cities in China.

Sarah began plans to relocate to Tsingtao. By that time, she was having a full-fledged affair with Leonid. She had fallen head-over-heels in love with him, as he had with her.

Finally, in the year of 1919, Sarah was ready to move her dental practice to Tsingtao.

By that time, Grigory knew Sarah was having a serious affair with Leonid. He dropped to his knees and implored her not to leave him. He proclaimed his eternal love and told her that she was the one and only woman in his life.

Sarah was unmoved. She had immense strength of character; once she reached a decision, she resolved to keep it.

So, in the year of 1920, Sarah Shvetz opened her brand new dental clinic in Tsingtao. She rented a very large and beautiful mansion at a prestigious address, setting up an office in one of its wings. The windows of this majestic mansion overlooked a lovely garden, used in the summer for lavish garden parties, including her own birthday, which happened to be on July 12.

Sarah was an immediate success. Patients flocked to her and she quickly made a reputation as an excellent dentist.

Meanwhile, Leonid Solomonovich Guterman followed her to Tsingtao, leaving his wife and daughter behind in Harbin.

Leonid was no less enterprising than Sarah. Upon moving to Tsingtao, he opened a large and exquisite jewellery store. He equipped it elegantly, ordering custom-made, lacquered redwood counters with crystal glass panels, and erecting cabinets to house his elegant wares and precious jewellery. On the outside, two large ceiling-to-floor display windows flanked the entrance. Above the entrance was a sign bearing his name in large gilt letters. In addition to jewellery, he also carried imported Parker fountain pens with fourteen-carat gold nibs, as well as a large collection of high-quality imported hand-cut lead crystal from Czechoslovakia. He sold diamonds, as well as precious stones set into rings, brooches, and bracelets. Leonid and his store also acquired a great reputation.

While all of these events were taking place, Sarah had sent her three young daughters to the Holy Ghost Catholic convent. Although she was Jewish, she felt that good schooling and excellent discipline would benefit the girls. In addition, she would not have to worry about them; they would be well looked after and she would see them on weekends.

Sarah with her three daughters and husband, Grigory, in Japan.

The Illustrious Guterman Family

During this time, young Mr. Alexander Solomonovich Guterman entered the scene. He came to join his older brother, Leonid, in the jewellery store and was welcomed into Sarah’s household. He was as handsome and dashing as Leonid. He also had a very sharp wit and a keen sense of humour – a family trait.

The Guterman family originated in Irkutsk, in the district of Siberia, Russia, at the beginning of nineteenth century. Though the name sounds German (there may have been a German connection in the distant past), Solomon Guterman was the founder of this Russian-Jewish clan. He and his wife, Anna, had seven children: Sarah, Leonid, Grigory, another daughter (who died of disease in infancy), Avram, Alexander, and Olga.

The Gutermans had a vast estate in Irkutsk. They owned stables, which included some purebred horses and some excellent working horses.

By order of the Russian Czarist regime, Siberia was the only part of Russia where Jews were allowed to own property.

Alexander often narrated episodes from his childhood, of how his father, Solomon, mounting his massive sleigh drawn by a team of magnificent horses, took him to the Great Market. In these stories it was always freezing cold, many degrees below zero, and the sleigh was open, with furs serving as blankets.

Young Alexander looked forward to these trips, for his father bought him new valenki (native peasant Russia boots), which were made of pressed cotton flax and were very warm. They also shopped for many other things, including food products and some small household items.

Once, when he was about seven years old and was in the market with his father, he wanted to choose his own valenki. He had spotted a pair of white ones with a lovely design. He looked at them, imagining how wonderful it would be to own them and how handsome he would look wearing them. His father, however, said they were too fancy and bought him black ones instead.

Little Alexander cried all the way home.

Upon their arrival, his father downed a small glass of vodka to warm himself from the biting cold – the temperature was forty degrees below zero – while young Alexander was given a sweet warm yeast bun topped with sour cream, fresh from the oven.

Alexander always remembered the mouthwatering scent of those buns being baked in the great oven and how their delicious aroma filled the house. A small table in the corner of the room was always covered with a white lace tablecloth and bore a large samovar on a tray that was ready to dispense aromatic black Russian chai (tea).

Alexander also recalled trips with his father to the Russian banya (sauna). The banya, frequently visited by men in the community, consisted of several relatively small rooms. Each room had wooden benches along the walls. The floor consisted of wooden planks. Water was thrown on large stones heated in huge blazing stoves, creating steam and raising the temperature as high as one hundred forty degrees Fahrenheit. The higher on the shelves a person sat, the hotter they got. Some men took veniks – brooms constructed from flexible twigs – and thrashed one another to promote circulation. Typically, a father performed this operation on his son, purifying him by causing him to sweat profusely.

After a good sweat, the men ran outside and rolled in the snow. This process was repeated several times. The men felt relieved of their tensions, and, indeed, their skin glowed with health.

Luckily, Alexander was never thrashed with a venik, but he was often forced to climb to one of the higher shelves. Though told it was healthy for him, he always cried and resisted with all his might.

He hated the trips to the banya, and often sought the protection of his mother, who drew him close to her bosom, telling her husband that Alexander would accompany him the next time. Relieved, Alexander remained at home, happily waiting for his favourite sour cream buns to come out of the oven, which he could partake of if he was a really good boy.

The Guterman family fared well and were in want of nothing – until the Russian revolution of 1917, that is, when many Jewish families were forced to flee the country. Mother Anna, older daughter Sarah, Leonid, and the youngest daughter, Olga, moved to Harbin, Manchuria. The youngest son, Alexander, would follow them later.

It is not known what happened to the founder of the family, Solomon Guterman, and his two remaining sons.

Auntie Lucie (left), Grandmother Sarah, and me at a garden party in Tsingtao.

After spending a few years at the convent, the three girls – Bassia, Eva, and Lucy – came home to live with their mother, Sarah. They were fine children, obedient and polite, but Leonid did not particularly take to them. They were proficient in English, so now Sarah enrolled them in a fine Russian school in the city.

Life was idyllic in Tsingtao. The climate was ideal. During the summer months, the city and its beaches overflowed with tourists.

Sarah was famous for her garden parties. Her birthday on July 12 was an opportune occasion for a lavish celebration. She was a beautiful hostess who dressed elegantly and expensively. Her exquisite jewellery complemented her gowns; her azure blue eyes, naturally pink cheeks, milky-white skin, and raven hair made her a real beauty. She bore herself like a countess.

By this time she was openly living with Leonid, although she maintained her financial independence.

Meanwhile, Grigory Gershevich, who was still living in Harbin, was heartbroken that his beloved and beautiful wife had left him. He decided to sell the Central Hotel and live a quieter and less stressful life. He had met a fine lady named Sonia. Soft-spoken and gentle, she was well past her youth and had remained a spinster. She was not very attractive but possessed beautiful, auburn hair, which was naturally thick and shiny and reached well below her waist.

Grigory started to see Sonia often and, after a short courtship, decided to marry her. She was a very fine and dedicated wife. She doted on him and they had a happy, quiet life together.

Leonid Visits His Wife

While enjoying his life in Tsingtao, Leonid Guterman received a letter from his wife, Elisabeth, and daughter, Vera, who were still in Harbin. Elisabeth wrote that his daughter missed him, and that they both were anxious to see him. Would he visit them?

After thinking about it, Leonid decided to take the trip.

When he arrived in Harbin, he was met with great enthusiasm by his wife and daughter. He planned to stay with them for about a week.

As it happened, Elisabeth still loved him and enjoyed his company. One evening while they were together, she begged him to make love to her.

As he stated later, at first he refused, but after she wept and fell to her knees, pleading with him, he felt compassion for her and decided he could no longer deny her.

Thus Leonid made love to his wife Elisabeth, and she became pregnant, bearing him a son. He also was named Alexander, for this was the favourite name within the family. He was called Shura in Russian, or Sandy in English.

When Sarah found out that Leonid’s wife was pregnant, she was indignant