Memoirs: from Old Shanghai to the New World

By Anatole Maher and Tani Maher

In the U.S.A, the land of immigrants, Where do you come from? is often asked. When Tani Maher couldnt answer questions about her father, she posed her own. With its South American twist, told with puns and witty tales, Anatole Mahers Memoirs takes the reader on his personal voyage through life where he witnesses many of the major historical events of the 20th century.

During the high-flying, war-torn epoch of Old Shanghai, into a cocktail of languages, culture and people, Anatole Maher is born. While the British toast the Queen at the exclusive Shanghai Club, the French hold soires at the Crcle Sportif Franais, and other foreigners sashay through Shanghais numerous ballrooms, the Chinese are often treated like third-class citizens. The Japanese want to conquer all of Asia, but the Americans intervene until Maos revolution overruns China, putting a stop to everything.

In Memoirs: From Old Shanghai to the New World, Anatole Maher relates his early years in the Pearl of the Orient, a city where strong racial and social lines separate people, the pure bloods from the locals and mixed races, the rich and powerful from the lower, poorer classes. The youngest of seven children whose parents are of Macanese-Japanese descent, Anatole grows up in the culturally diverse International Settlement under the over-protective watch of his eldest sister. Despite the humble, lower-middle class origins of the Mahers, the family have two Amahs and a cook who live with them. Anatole attends the St. Francis Xavier College, becomes an active member of the Foreign YMCA, and graduates with First-Class honors from the Henry Lester Technical Institute. From early on, various battles and wars disrupt his life. His neighborhood in Hongkew is bombarded several times, but Anatole survives the Japanese Occupation and World War II unscathed. After WWII, he works on a Danish freighter ship to see the world. When he returns to China, the Communists are not yet in Shanghai but are winning one battle after another. Anatole finds a job and waits out the situation until the Communists finally kick him out. Japan is the closest country to take in him and his family. After a short stay in Tokyo, Anatole finds a job, but under the American Occupation all the privileges he once enjoyed in his native Shanghai vanish. In search of a better existence, he decides to join many of his Shanghai buddies who have immigrated to the country of the future, Brazil. In Rio de Janeiro, he marries a Brazilian girl in 1955 and starts a family. His record of quitting jobs is no asset. When the Brazilian military dictatorship becomes increasingly oppressive, he runs into bad luck and gets fired. Under a politically repressive regime, with unstable personal finances, Anatole decides to abandon Brazil in 1967 for the Vietnam-War-fatigued United States.

He settles in Jacksonville, Florida, a city with many geographical and climatic similarities to his birthplace Shanghai. As if to compensate for changing jobs and residences so often in the past, he remains at his first job in the U.S., Maxwell House Coffee, for 20 years until his retirement and never again moves from Jacksonville. With 16 grandchildren and six great grandchildren, Anatole and his wife Nair are still enjoying their retirement in the Sunshine State.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 4, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469119144

Book preview

Copyright © 2008 by Tani Maher & Anatole Maher.

ISBN:                  Hardcover                  978-1-4363-4265-0

ISBN:                  Softcover                     978-1-4363-3138-8

ISBN:                  Ebook                         978-1-4691-1914-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

48607

Contents

My Roots and Shanghai’s History

Our House in Hongkew, St. Francis Xavier College and the 1932 Manchurian Incident

Ghosts, Cricket Fighting, Climbing the Alps and Running for our Lives in 1937

The Foreign YMCA, the Henry Lester Technical Institute and the Japanese Occupation

The World War II Years

Post-World War II and the Americans

Life at Sea: Electric the Klutz,

the Wan Sze and the Leise Maersk

The Communists, Jardine Matheson and Immigrating to Japan

The Voyage to Brazil,

Obtaining Residency and Settling In

Working and Socializing in Rio de Janeiro

Wedding Bells and Traveling

through Brazil

Volta Redonda, Campinas

and Brazilian Politics

Financial and Employment Worries

Settling in the United States

Sources

A special thanks to Nair Maher, Josefina Hansen, Diana Maher and Frances Maher for picking their brains and remembering, to Marlene Merkt for her critical first read and to Tani’s husband Oliver Adler for his continuing support.

My Roots and Shanghai’s History

During the high-flying, war-torn epoch of Old Shanghai, into a cocktail of languages, culture and people, I was born on July 9, 1923. In a small house on Albury Lane, a Chinese midwife assisted in the routine business of birth while Amah, one of our Chinese maids, yelled out at my siblings in her pidgin’ English, telling them to stay bottomside (downstairs) until tiffin (lunch) was ready. Chop, chop! Savvy? Amah’s brusque voice, clanging with more urgency than usual, pierced the tension in the house, becoming louder as if the louder she spoke, the faster the birth would proceed. Springing through the kitchen in her tiny slippers, trying to fulfill her chores with quick, efficient movements, she conversed in Shanghai dialect with our other maid. Josefina-Amah nodded in consent as she anxiously shuffled back and forth from the kitchen to the master bedroom topside where my mother lay, straining with the grueling pains of birth. I would be her seventh and last child, actually the eighth. The first-born child, my eldest brother, died many years earlier as a baby. My parents had never forgotten that sad day but the subsequent birth of six healthy children had partially made up for it. By the time I arrived, my father had become accustomed to the fuss about newborns but to him, they were all the same: miniature, wailing humans, shriveled up little faces like bald old men, yet another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, another mind to educate. He sat as far away from the commotion as possible near the wide open window in the sitting room, trying to remain cool in the overwhelmingly sticky summer heat. From past experience, my father knew to stay out of the way but within reach. As he read the North China Daily News, a few pestering flies buzzed about his head. They entered through the screenless windows, whizzed from one end of our row house to the other, oblivious to birth, death or history in the making.

My name is Anatole Maria Maher. Don’t let the Maria in my name fool you. It was a tradition in our Catholic family and didn’t reflect the gender of the child. My four sisters and two brothers were all baptized with that middle name. In fact, I continued the tradition with my own children. Since July 9 is St. Anatole’s Day, I was, according to Catholic custom, named after the patron saint of the day. Although I wasn’t the first-born male but boy number three, the Maher family had been considered blessed because in a very male-oriented Asia, boys were and still are held in higher esteem than girls. The Mahers were lower middle-class with Macanese roots from my father’s side and Japanese from my mother’s. An unusual combination, you may think, but considering Shanghai at that time, I was just one of many mixed breeds in the booming metropolis.

On my father’s side, I can trace my family back to northern Portugal in the 18th century to a certain Guilherme Maher. Oddly enough, my family name should have been Lourenço and not Maher. Guilherme’s only child Paula Gomes Maher married José Lourenço, my great, great, great grandfather, around 1750. Since Paula was an only child, some suspect that José adopted her last name to prevent the Maher line from dying out. Name buffs claim that my family roots stem from the United Kingdom since Guilherme is a translation of the English William and Maher can also be an Irish name. I doubt that. In my case, Maher is probably Arabic, having arrived in Portugal with the Arab conquest of the Iberian Peninsula in the eighth century. Intermarriage between the Portuguese and Arab people occurred through the centuries. In countries such as Egypt, Maher is a common name. It’s even found in the Old Testament, in Isaiah, 8. The Lord said to me: Take a large tablet and write upon it in common characters belonging to Maher-shal’al-hash’-baz. A rough translation of Maher is skilled or capable, maybe someone you might consult for advice or even call to fix your plumbing. And Anatole, more specifically Anatolia, translates as orient. Appropriate, some say, since I was born in China. So my name Anatole Maher can mean skilled one from the orient." I am quite sure that my family has Arabic blood because some of my second cousins, with their thick, black, wavy hair and swarthy complexions could have passed as Arabs. Except for my dark skin, I, however, don’t look at all Arabic. With my slanted, dark brown eyes, fine, straight black hair, protruding chin, and small build, I can blend in with the general Chinese population. But in China, I was not considered Chinese. I was a foreigner, to be exact, a Portuguese citizen.

Some time before 1777, Paula and José immigrated to Macau, a Portuguese Settlement off the Chinese mainland, maybe looking for adventure, perhaps hoping to strike it rich. After reaching Macau, they had two sons, Jeronimo Lourenço Maher and João Nepomuceno Maher. The latter, my great, great grandfather, married Leonor Pereira in 1793. With the birth of João’s first son, Triphon, the Maria began to appear as a Maher middle name. A month before his 21st birthday, Triphon married Joana Escolástica Coelho in Sé, Macau. They were very prolific and had 10 children. Their eighth surviving child, Agapito Maria Maher, my paternal grandfather, was born in 1847. Agapito wed Maria Luciana Xavier, 11 years his junior. Despite her very Iberian-sounding name, she had some Chinese ancestors, probably from her mother’s side. My Chinese blood can be traced back to her. One of Agapito and Luciana’s offspring was my father Conrado Maria Maher. In 1880, Agapito moved his family from Sé, Macau to Shanghai in search of a better existence. I never knew my paternal grandparents. Both died before I was born. In a nutshell, that’s how I inherited the Maria middle name and my Portuguese passport, which would come in handy later in my life.

My mother’s side adds an additional oriental twist. Unfortunately, I can’t trace her roots back far at all and only know that she came from a farmer’s family in Yokohama. In the early 1900s, Tani Yokomiso left her mother Kano, father Sadahachi and three brothers in Japan and arrived in Shanghai via Harbin and Vladivostok, where she had been employed as domestic help in a Russian household. One of her responsibilities was to take care of a child. Once in Shanghai, my mother lived with her paternal aunt, I believe she was called Mrs. Roberts. There as well my mother helped look after the children. She and my father lived in the same neighborhood. How they met exactly, I don’t know. In those days, parents didn’t share such information with their children. Somehow their paths crossed. I like to imagine them noticing each other on the street, perhaps as my mother was going to market and my father to work. An innocent encounter, a brief exchange of glances may have brought them together. In 1904, they married. I mentioned earlier, their first child died as a baby. Six years later, my mother gave birth to Irene Maria Maher, my eldest sister. She played a very influential role in my upbringing.

When I was born in Shanghai, a real mishmash of languages, an Anglo-Euro-Asian potpourri, struck my ears. Although my mother was Japanese, at home she mainly spoke English, mixing in a few Japanese words. I considered English not Chinese my native tongue. My father added a splash of Portuguese to his English. The help spoke to each other in Shanghai dialect but communicated with us in pidgin’ English. Despite the hodgepodge of languages, we managed to understand each other. This mix of languages was not at all unusual for Shanghai but reflected the many different cultures and the intermarriage of many nationalities in the city at the time. Although my father and siblings physically looked Chinese, none of us could speak Mandarin, odd but true. Unfortunately, during my 28 years in Shanghai, I never learned Mandarin at all, which I regret until this day.

When my parents married, my mother abandoned her Japanese Shinto religion and adopted Catholicism, my father’s religion. She became more devout than the Pope and never failed to attend mass at Sacred Heart Church on the first Friday of every month, on Sundays, in fact, every morning of the week, rain, sleet or snow. Only illness prevented her from going to church. If she wasn’t at home, we knew where she was. Despite converting, I think she retained some of her Shinto beliefs, especially when it came to spirits. She was very superstitious. My siblings and I were all brought up Catholic and attended Mass regularly, as was expected in the Macanese community.

In 1923, our family lived in Hongkew, in the northeast section of Shanghai. Originally, Hongkew was part of the American Settlement, but when I was born it had been incorporated into the International Settlement. Our house lay north of the Suzhou Creek, a natural boundary within the International Settlement. The creek flowed east into the Huangpu River, which unlike most rivers, flowed north. Many Macanese families like mine lived in Hongkew, but there were many other nationalities there as well. The Japanese would control this area later. The Mahers were a sort of cocktail and many of our friends were Eurasians, for instance the offspring of Japanese or Chinese mothers and European or American fathers. I was just one of many foreigners, a mixed breed, in Shanghai so I didn’t think much about it.

In the Shanghai of the 1930s, out of three and a half million inhabitants, approximately 36,000 were foreigners. A small portion, you might think, but this minority played a very influential role in the city. Foreigners dominated commerce, business and culture. They controlled a large part of city affairs. You could even say that Shanghai, the Pearl of the Orient, was one of the in places in the world at that time. The city had a reputation for being the Paris of the East, swinging with nightlife.

Clubs such as the Ciro and Venus abounded where elegantly dressed dance girls whisked away patrons while encouraging large purchases of champagne. Those with limited budgets frequented Blood Alley, popular with Shanghai’s many servicemen who could pick up exotic gals in dives such as the Monk’s Brass Rail or George’s Bar. Western buildings, such as the Astor House, Palace Hotel and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank Building, were spread throughout the city. The two stone lions at the Shanghai Bank were supposed to roar when a virgin crossed its portals. As I recall, these lions remained silent for many years during Shanghai’s apex in the 20th century. Not only western architecture, but western traditions also flourished. British pastry shops provided tarts and mutton pie. For those wanting gardening advice, The China Journal ran a column that gave tips on the best methods to maintain a velvety, weed-free lawn. In case gambling and not gardening was the preferred hobby, one could place bets on the ponies at the Race Course before a night out at the Cathay Hotel for a tea dance. Perhaps a social event at one of the many clubs such as the Deutscher Garten Klub, the Lusitano Club or the Cércle Sportif Français was on the agenda. Some spent their free time attending cricket games before breaking for high tea with scones. Golf was also popular. Americans could tee-off at the Columbia Country Club. The British and other westerners preferred meeting at the more exclusive Shanghai Club. Reserved for the crème de la crème of society—important public officials, prominent businessmen, Sirs or those aspiring to be—the club was reputed to have the longest bar in the world. Located along the Huangpu River in the business section of the city known as the Bund, the Shanghai Club, a neo-classical building, had 40-foot-high ceilings, six Ionic marble columns, and a marble floor to boot. To be a member of the Shanghai Club was quite a privilege indeed and everyone in the city knew it.

The British had a long history in China. During the heyday of the British Empire in the 19th century and through its East India Trading Company, the English became the world’s leading traffickers of opium. The company had a royal charter to import from Afghanistan and India to China and in return sent silk, tea and other Chinese products back to the United Kingdom. In the 1800s, the most important Chinese import was opium. Starting in the 1820s, this steady supply created a flourish in opium dens not to mention numerous Chinese addicts. The addiction cut through all ranks of society from Chinese Imperial soldiers to the well-off merchants and the revered Taoists. The drug had dire effects on Chinese society. Although the British were the main traffickers of opium, it was, ironically, illegal in England. Eventually, the Chinese government followed the English lead and also made opium consumption illegal, but even so, many local officials were bribed to ignore the trade. Eventually, the government fought back, bringing it into a head-on confrontation with British merchants. This dispute combined with a disagreement over sovereignty regarding prisoners and trade issues in general resulted in the First Opium War in 1839.

The Chinese had no chance to defeat the British, however. The antiquated Chinese junks posed no challenge to the technologically superior British fleet and army. The Chinese lost the First Opium War and signed the Treaty of Nanking in 1842, which stated that the British were exempt from Chinese law and forced the Chinese to cede ports in Canton, Fuzhou, Xiamen, Linbou and Shanghai to foreign powers, ultimately opening up the country to international trade. Once China was opened up to trade, the opium dealings continued. Also as part of the treaty, China surrendered Hong Kong to the British. One clause in the Treaty of Nanking stated that the Chinese had to provide housing for the British merchants and their families in those five port cities. Imperialistic nations moved in to profit. In 1856, another battle occurred where the French allied themselves with the British against the Chinese. China was then forced to amend the Treaty of Nanking, giving all countries that dealt with China the same status as the British. In 1860, the Chinese signed the Treaty of Tianjin putting an end to the Second Opium War and opening up additional ports to foreigners in China. Foreign settlements spread, especially in Shanghai, which, because of its strategic position near the mouth of the Yangtze River, became a prosperous center for trade.

In 1854, the Shanghai Municipal Council was created to manage the many foreign settlements in the city. In 1862, the British Concession and the American Settlement joined to form the International Settlement, which was in the north and east of the city. In addition to the British Concession and American Settlement, a small area in Pudong, which was mostly farmland, was also included in the International Settlement. The Municipal Council originally consisted of one German (before World War I), two American, and six British members who administered the Settlement. Later, the Japanese and Chinese also became members, bringing the total number of administrators to 14. These members were elected annually by foreigners who were property-owning taxpayers in the Settlement. In effect, the Municipal Council was a