Urban Exploration

Agenna Shipyard Relics (阿根納造船廠遺址)

Today, I’m going to introduce a historic shipyard in northern Taiwan that has been abandoned for quite some time - and was for quite a while been a favorite for local urbex photographers.

In recent years, this ‘secret’ location (which has been hiding in plain sight) came to the attention of the world at large, and has arguably become the most popular abandoned site in the entire country. It’s transformation from an obscure property into an overnight social media sensation however has been interesting to watch while it has also become somewhat of a contentious issue for the local government, given that there are some serious safety concerns involved.

It’s safe to say that a number of factors contributed to turning this ruin into a social media sensation, but what I find most interesting is that in a city that features a long list of beautiful tourist attractions - this dilapidated structure has the ability to attract a wide range of visitors ranging from local Instagram celebrities to tour buses full of senior citizens. 

It has also helped to promote the Urban Exploration hobby, with a growing community of local explorers, who have started out here and gone on to discover some very photogenic ruins across the country!

Nevertheless, with the shipyard’s newfound popularity as a tourist attraction, you’d think that there would be a multitude of resources available with information about its historical significance, yet even though you can find numerous Chinese-language articles about it, few of them feature little more than basic facts.

While I’d like to help alleviate that problem with this article, I first have to give some major props to my friend and fellow blogger, Alexander Synaptic, who was one of the first people (in any language) to write extensively about the shipyard with an article (linked below) that I strongly recommend you take some time to read.

I highly doubt that my attempt could ever be as good as his article, but I’ll do my best!

Link: Agenna Shipyard 阿根納造船廠 (Spectral Codex)

Below, I’ll provide an introduction to the history of the shipyard, and its current predicament and conclude by providing some info about getting to the area, which is something I rarely do when it comes to my urbex-related posts. Although, I’m not really sure if this one can really be considered urban exploration anymore.

Feel free to debate that one amongst yourselves!  

The Agenna Shipyard Ruins (阿根納造船廠遺址)

Located within Keelung’s Zhengbin Fishery Harbor (正濱漁港), just next to the bridge that crosses the Bachimen Channel (八尺門海峽) to Peace Island (和平島), the Agenna Shipyard was constructed on a historically significant plot of land that dates back as far as the Qing Dynasty.

Predating the shipyard by almost a century, the development of the shoreline along the channel is somewhat unclear, but archaeological evidence suggests that industrial activity started in the area decades prior to the arrival of the Japanese in Taiwan in the late 1800s.

Looking at maps of the area from the 1920s however, we can see that a branch railway was constructed to transport coal from nearby mines to the first iteration of a port, which shipped the coal back to Japan. 

As the amount of shipping traffic increased at the primary port of Keelung, the colonial government planned to have the commercial and fishery industries split between two ports with the “inner" port of Keelung servicing commercial traffic, and a newly re-developed “outer” port area near (what was then known as) the ‘Hasshaku-mon Channel’ becoming the newly established 'Keelung Fishery Port’ (基隆漁港 / きいるんきーるん) in 1935, which at the time was Taiwan’s largest fishery port having enough space to dock four hundred boats in addition to processing facilities and a market along the shoreline. 

Note: Today, several of the larger buildings constructed during in the 1930s for the fishery port are in the process of being restored and re-opened to the public as tourist attractions, making this area of the city an attractive one that will provide an excellent experience for tourists. 

While construction on the fishery port was taking place, the Nippon Mining Company (日本礦業株式會社) was simultaneously in the process of constructing a twelve kilometer-long branch railway, which became known as the ‘Kinkaseki Branch Line’ (金瓜石線 / きんかせきせん). The narrow-gauge line stretched from Suinando Station (水湳洞駅 / すいなんどうえき) to Hasshaku-mon Station (八尺門駅 / はしゃくもんえき), running along the northern shoreline transporting gold and copper ore to the harbor, where it was loaded onto barges to be sent across the harbor and then back to Japan. 

The significance of the branch railway, especially with regard to this article, is essentially because Hasshaku-mon Station was strategically located next to where the shipyard would eventually constructed. During the Japanese-era, the land was used as an ore dock, creating the first iteration of a dock in this location.

Interestingly, the Japanese authorities had some lofty development plans for the area, especially with regard to Sharyo-to (社寮島 / しゃりょうとう), the island we know today as Peace Island (和平島), with maps from the 1930s showing how the area would have been developed. Coincidentally, the island we know today was originally a collection of three islands, Sharyō-to (社寮島), Nakayamako-tō (中山子島), Okeban-sho (桶盤嶼).

If you look at the historic map provided above, you can see the red lines that indicate planned development, which would have artificially connected two of the islands. In the decades since, it’s apparent that those plans carried over with the new regime as it is currently a single island. 

When the Japanese-era ended in 1945, and the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, the newly established regime sought to continue to capitalize on the island’s natural resources, with the assistance of the already established infrastructure. Yet just over a decade or two of Chinese Nationalist control, almost everything of value had already been taken from the ground and with the mines depleted, the branch railway became unnecessary with the section between Badouzi Station (八斗子車站) and Bachimen Station (八尺門車站) suspended. 

With service on the branch railway officially coming to an end on August 26th, 1962 (民國52年), the ore dock and the space that Hasshaku-mon-turned-Bachimen Station occupied was suddenly freed up, and the Taiwan Metals Mining Company (臺灣金屬鑛業股份有限公司) lost interest in maintaining the property. 

The solution to their problem came a few short years later when in 1966 (民國55年), Thomas Hsueh (薛國航), an US educated engineer and entrepreneur, leased the land and opened the ‘Argonaut Shipbuilding Company’ (阿根納造船廠). Specializing in the construction of luxury yachts, Hsueh made use of his network of business contacts in America, and Taiwan’s cheap and skilled labor to earn a fortune with the shipyard.

Working as a sub-contractor for the Florida-based Chris Craft Industries, the shipyard specialized in the construction of smaller pleasure-craft, and was able to quickly adapt to Chris Craft’s transition to constructing ships with fiberglass in the 1970s and 1980s.

Note: There is a bit of confusion with the naming of the site, so let me take a minute to explain: The name we currently use for the site, “Agenna Shipyard” is simply the romanization of the Chinese-language name. More specifically the pinyin is ‘ā gēn nà zào chuán chǎng’ (阿根納造船廠). Does that name have any meaning in Chinese? No, not really. The name was actually a direct transliteration of the English word “Argonaut” into Chinese. The Taiwanese-American owner of the business essentially required an official Chinese-language name to register the company here in Taiwan, as well as an English name to register the company in the USA. This is a common business practice for multi-national corporations in Taiwan.

Architectural Layout of the Shipyard

Working primarily with Chris-Craft since its inception, the shipyard constructed several of the company’s flagship yachts for a number of years. Unfortunately, the fate of the Argonaut Corporation, and the shipyard were tied too close to that of Chris-Craft back in the USA. So, when economic recession hit the US in the late 1970s and global sales declined, that company was forced to restructure, with its assets and trademarks sold to another investment group in 1981. 

Link: Chris-Craft Corporation (Wiki)

Faced with a loss of its most important partner, and coupled with a worldwide economic downturn, the Argonaut Corporation was left frantically searching for new partners. Ultimately, the company’s poor management structure served as the final nail in its coffin, and after a couple of years of inactivity it closed its doors completely in 1987 (民國76年).

With the end of Argonaut’s business operations, the land once again became a burden to the Taiwan Metals Mining Company, which had also fallen on hard times and was going through bankruptcy in the late 1980s. With most of that company’s assets sold off to pay off their creditors, what little remained of the company was merged with the prosperous Taiwan Sugar Corporation (台灣糖業公司), the current owner of the property.

In the four decades since, the land has been leased to a number of businesses, each of which didn’t end up last very long. Then, in 2008 (民國97年), the land was put on a 20 year lease to a local industrial company (阿諾瑪實業公司), which made national headlines when they did what many other corporations around the country had done in the past, and rolled up onto the property with a bunch of construction equipment and started an illegal demolition of the shipyard.

Link: Agenna Shipyard demolished for safety, firm says (Taipei Times)

The sudden demolition of the historic property was widely condemned, with the mayor of Keelung threatening hefty fines for failing to secure construction permits. The Keelung City Council likewise moved quickly to have the site granted heritage status under the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (文化資產之保存), which was passed by the Taiwanese legislature that same year.

Unfortunately, by the time demolition was halted, considerable damage had been done to the shipyard, which is one of the reasons why the site is considered to be unstable and unsafe for the amount of people visiting on any given weekend. 

The future of the historic shipyard remains unclear with the Keelung City Government hoping to eventually have it restored, but given that the land remains is the property of the Taiwan Sugar Corporation, there are a number of legal matters to be resolved before anything can be done. The shipyard has lingered in its current condition for a number of years and is essentially one or two large earthquakes from falling over on its own.

As I mentioned earlier, there were a number of factors that contributed to the shipyard becoming Taiwan’s most widely-visited and most popular abandoned ruin. One of those factors was the widespread media attention (and condemnation) that came as a result of the short-lived demolition of the ruins. What was probably the number one factor in bringing the shipyard to the attention of the public at large was when Captain America himself, Chris Evans filmed a trailer for one of the Call of Duty games on-site in 2014.

All it took after that were some clever Instagram posts to help the ruin achieve overnight popularity. 

Link: Actor Chris Evans spotted in Taiwan filming commercial at Keelung Shipyard (ICRT) 

To conclude, it’s important to remind readers that a visit to the area doesn’t have to be just to see the abandoned shipyard - While there you can also enjoy the view of the equally Insta-famous rainbow colored buildings at Zhengbin Harbor (正濱港口彩色屋). You could also visit the historic Sheliao East Fort (社寮東砲台), Peace Island Coastal Park (和平島海角樂園), and many of the other tourist attractions within the downtown core of Keelung City. Don’t make a trip to the area just to visit the shipyard, make sure you enjoy some of the city’s other excellent tourist spots! 

Getting There

 

Address: Lane #116 Zhengbin Road, Keelung City (基隆市中正區正濱路116巷)

GPS: 25.153660, 121.771810

Something I rarely do when I write about urbex-related ruins is provide an address or a location.

With this one, there isn’t much point in not sharing that info with you - The shipyard has become so popular that there is a spot marking its location on Google Maps, making it relatively easy to find on your own.

Located next to Keelung’s Zhengbin Harbor (正濱港口), just before you cross the bridge to Peace Island (和平島), the shipyard is a relatively easy one to reach, but is a bit of distance from the city’s railway station.

This means that if you don’t have access to a car or a scooter you’ll have to make use of public transportation. It’s important to note that the narrow road along the harbor is home not only to the shipyard, but also the popular Zhengbin Harbor Rainbow Buildings (正濱港口彩色屋), and acts as the entrance to the Peace Island Coastal Park (和平島海角樂園). The area can be quite busy on the weekends and during national holidays. 

With that in mind, I’ll preface this by letting you know if you’re driving a car, you’re likely going to have some trouble finding parking near the harbor - The very narrow road that leads you to the harbor and across the bridge to Peace Island wasn’t ever set up with cars and buses full of tourists, so I’d highly recommend you find somewhere to park well before you arrive at the harbor. 

Of course, it’s not impossible to find a spot when you arrive, so if you are traveling to the area and are feeling brave, you can turn into the harbor, and then make another turn on Lane #116 where the shipyard is located and attempt to find a roadside parking space near the Keelung City Indigenous Cultural Hall (基隆市原住民文化會館), a short walk past the shipyard. Given that there are a number of buses that stop at the harbor, the traffic situation can be quite precarious meaning that if you turn in, you may find yourself stuck in a line of traffic that moves very slowly.

If on the other hand you’re in the area with a scooter, you shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a spot on the side of the road near the shipyard where you can park for a short time.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s time to talk about public transportation. 

Once again, I’m going to preface this by saying that I love Keelung, it’s one of my favorite cities to visit in Taiwan - It is however a far cry from what most tourists would consider a convenient place to visit.

The traffic in the downtown core of the city is often congested, and unlike other major Taiwanese towns and cities, you (currently) don’t have access to YouBikes, GoShare, WeMo, etc.

If you have a drivers license, I highly recommend renting a scooter for the day near the train station. If not, you’ll be stuck relying on public transportation, which isn’t very efficient or reliable.

Below, you’ll find a list of bus routes that’ll get you to Zhengbin Harbor. I’ll provide links to each of the buses so that you can click on them to find their route map and schedules: 

Zhengbin Harbor Heping Bridge Bus Stop (和平橋頭站)

Located next to the harbor, you’ll simply get off the bus at the station before crossing the bridge to Peace Island and walk up Lane #116 to find the shipyard. 

  • Keelung Bus #101 (Peace Island 和平島)

  • Keelung Bus #102 (Peace Island 和平島)

  • Keelung Bus #109 (Tianxian Temple 天顯宮)

  • Keelung Bus #205 (Peace Island 中信 - 和平島)

Zhongzheng - Zhengbin Intersection Bus Stop (中正路正濱路口站)

Located along an important road between Keelung and Badouzi, getting off at this stop requires you to walk into the harbor area and then up Lane #116 to the shipyard. The distance between this bus stop and the one above is only about a two minute walk, but not all buses turn into the harbor area. 

  • Keelung Bus #103 (Badouzi 八斗子)

  • Keelung Bus #104 (Xinfeng Street 新豐街)

  • Keelung Bus #108 (Chaojing Park 潮境公園)

  • Taipei Bus #791 (Guojia New Village to Fulong 國家新城 - 福隆)

  • Keelung Bus #1051 (Rueifang to Guojia New Village 瑞芳─國家新城)

I can’t personally vouch as to whether or not you’ll be able to enter the former shipyard and explore the ruins as they’ve started preventing people from visiting. Whether or not this is constantly enforced, I’m not particularly sure. Still, you need to keep in mind that a visit to the shipyard might result in disappointment.

You can still view it from afar, but descending the old stairs to the old workshop area might not be an option.

If that’s the case, don’t worry too much. While in the area you’ll also be able to enjoy the beauty of the harbor as well as crossing the bridge over to Peace Island, which is pretty cool place to visit. 

As a historic structure, it would be nice to see the local government do something to fix the area up in order to keep the ruins available for the foreseeable future. That being said the structure would likely require quite a bit of public funds to clean up. Currently, its existence and popularity are an accident waiting to happen and an insurance nightmare for the city, so if its closed when you arrive, don’t be too surprised. 

There are an incredible number of abandoned structures throughout Taiwan, so if this kind of thing interests you, I suggest you start exploring and finding things on your own! It’s actually surprisingly easy to find some really cool places to visit. Stay safe if you do, and most importantly remember to keep these places to yourself, otherwise they might end up like the shipyard. 

To conclude, I’m going to doing something I rarely ever do, show a picture of myself striking a pose at the ruin.

Yours truly.


Khóo Tsú-song Mansion (許梓桑古厝)

Over the past few months I’ve spent quite a bit of time either in or around Taiwan’s northern port city of Keelung, one of my favorite places to visit. While some might argue that it’s an old, uninteresting city that is constantly raining, I tend to see it in a different light as these things are part of its romantic charm.

Walking around Keelung never fails to be a rewarding experience, and you can learn much about Taiwan’s history while exploring the city. This is especially true in recent years as the city has invested quite a bit in its history, with the restoration of a number of historic buildings that have been reopened as cultural attractions.

With historic attractions spanning from Dutch and Spanish Formosa, the Qing Dynasty, the Japanese-era and the post-war period, a visit to Keelung puts travelers in a unique position to be learn about places of interest that span a wide variety of Taiwan’s history.

With so many historic buildings being restored and re-opening as cultural attractions, especially those from the Japanese-era, I have a long list of places to visit, as well as a long list of places that I need to write about. So, I’ll happily be spending a considerable amount of time exploring the city over the next few years as it seems like there is always something new to see and do in Keelung!

Today, I’ll be introducing an historic Japanese-era mansion that sits atop a hill within the downtown core of the city. While it has received a bit of attention in recent years, the long abandoned mansion, once home to a prolific local political figure, lays ruined as decades of abandonment have been rather unkind. While only a short walk from the city’s popular night market, the mansion remains somewhat obscure and is surprisingly only popular among those interested in history or urban exploration, like myself.

Unfortunately, even though the Keelung City Government has invested a considerable amount of public funds restoring historic buildings within the city, it doesn’t seem like this beautiful old mansion is on the list of properties to restore. There are of course a number of reasons for this, which I’ll detail below.

Thankfully, local civic groups have taken an interest in its upkeep, and have striven to clean it up and maintain the grounds until the time comes when it can receive some official attention.

Until recently there has been very little coverage about the mansion in the English language, save for an excellent article by my friend at Spectral Codex, I figured it was about time to provide my own take on the mansion and its history. I highly recommend anyone reading this to take some time to read his piece on the mansion as he’s a much more thoughtful writer than I am.

Link: Khoo Tsu-song Old House 許梓桑古厝 (Spectral Codex)

Before I start introducing the mansion, I think it’s important to first offer a brief profile of the prolific figure who lived in it, so that you can better understand its historical significance.

Khóo Tsú-song (許梓桑)

Walking nearby the historic mansion today, you’ll find one of the typical brown road signs that indicates a cultural or historic attraction. The sign reads, “Xu, Zi-Sang Historical Home (許梓桑古厝).”

Likely to confuse most foreign tourists, the name “Xu Zi-Sang” is the pinyin romanization of “Khóo Tsú-song,” who arguably happens to be one of the most prolific Taiwanese-born figures in Keelung’s modern history, known locally by another name: the First Person of Keelung (基隆第一人).

Why they chose to go with the pinyin romanization rather than using the Taiwanese-Hokkien pronunciation is a head-scratcher - it’s certainly not how anyone would have addressed him while he was alive.

Born in Keelung in 1874 (同治13年), Khóo was brought up by his mother, who was widowed when he was quite young. The heir to the Khóo family and its fortune, as a young child he was afforded the opportunity of receiving a private education, at a time when a formal education was a rare thing in Taiwan.

Preparing for years to take the Civil Service Exam (科舉), Khóo was highly regarded for his literary prowess, especially when it came to poetry. Suffice to say, by the time he was prepared to take the exam, China found itself at war with Japan, resulting in an embarrassing defeat, and the loss of Taiwan in the process.

When Japanese forces arrived in Keelung to take control of the island, many of Khóo’s intellectual contemporaries, couldn’t accept being ruled by a foreign power, so they hopped boats with other Qing officials and left the island. The reality of Khóo’s situation however was a bit more complicated. As the twenty-one year old head of his clan, it would have been difficult for him to abandon his family, their fortune and their land holdings here in Taiwan.

So, instead of becoming a refugee from his place of birth, he made the decision to instead work with the incoming regime as the Japanese authorities sought out local scholars to work together to assist in stabilizing the political vacuum left by the outgoing regime.

This is where opinions on the man diverge as some would point their fingers and call him a traitor, while others would laud the great contributions he made over a life as a public servant - No matter what political side you take, it would be an understatement to say that Khóo’s legacy continues to reverberate in the city today, and his efforts to maintain local cultural traditions have ensured that we are still able to celebrate those traditions today.

Starting his career as a public servant at the age of twenty-one, Khóo assisted in the effort to maintain social order with the income regime, and was quickly appointed as an official in the Keelung City Office (基隆街庄長事務所書記). Keeping in mind that the Japanese used the port city as a staging point for their armed forces to make their way further inland, it was of the utmost importance that Keelung remained stable, and Khóo played an important role in ensuring that the transition went smoothly.

Having been afforded a private education while growing up, Khóo took it upon himself to adapt to the new reality by establishing a Japanese-language school (國語訓練班) for locals, and hired a private tutor to accelerate his own learning process. For his efforts, in 1901 (明治34年) he was awarded a ‘blue-ribbon’ award (藍綬紳章) by the Governor General, a highly prestigious award for someone of his youth.

Amazingly, in 1903 (明治36) at the age of twenty-nine, Khóo was appointed to a position that was essentially mayor of Keelung (基隆街庄長), and as time went by his career continued to advance as the mayor of Keelung District (基隆區長), and as congressperson of Taipei Prefecture (臺北州協議會員), receiving numerous commendations from the Governors Office in Taipei throughout his career.

Still, it’s important to keep in mind that apart from his career in public service, Khóo remained in his role as chief of the Khóo clan, as well as a prominent member of society making time to take part in local literary societies as well as serving as head of one of Keelung’s most important places of worship.

As one of the administrators of Keelung’s Qing-an Temple (慶安宮), Khóo’s influence ensured that the temple’s Mid-summer Ghost Festival remained the most prominent religious celebration in the city throughout the colonial era. Thanks to his political power, the scale of festival was larger than any of the other local religious festivals, especially those held by the local Shinto Shrines. This is one of the areas where Khóo’s influence continues to reverberate today as the annual Ghost Month celebrations in Keelung continue to be one of the busiest times of the year in the city, steeped in tradition that goes back hundreds of years.

Note: If you find yourself visiting Keelung checking out the mansion and the night market, I can’t recommend enough that you also stop by the beautiful Qing-an Temple, one of the prettiest and most historic places of worship in the city, dating back to 1780 and is one of the three most important temples in Keelung (基隆三大廟).

Interestingly, despite all of his achievements, little is known about his personal life, and even though he constructed a giant mansion for himself in the middle of the city, much of his prominence came crashing to the ground when the Japanese were forced to surrender Taiwan at the end of the Second World War.

Given the atrocities that took place when the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan in the post-war era, its safe to say that Khóo saved himself quite a bit of misery by instead passing away at the at the age of seventy-one that same year.

Despite all of his achievements, his collaboration with the Japanese throughout his career would have landed him in a precarious situation with the nationalists and he would have likely ended up being just another one of the nameless faces floating face up at the port of Keelung.

In retrospect, one could argue that even though he worked with the Japanese to advance his career, he spent a considerable amount of time and effort working to preserve Taiwanese culture and traditions at a time when things like this were frowned upon - and given the era for which he lived, the architectural design of his mansion is arguably a pretty good indicator of what kind of man he was.

Qìngyú Hall (慶餘堂)

Growing up in what we’d consider prime real estate within Keelung, the Khóo family constructed their family home in what was known during the Qing Dynasty as ‘Hsintien town’ (新店街), stretching from the harbor front and encompassing much of the city’s historic economic district. Home to three of the city’s most important places of worship, Dianji Temple (奠濟宮), Qing’an Temple (慶安宮), and the City God Temple (城隍廟) as well as the Kanziding Fish Market (崁仔頂魚市), it would have been the most important section of town prior to the city’s expansion during the Japanese-era.

Within a few short years of the Japanese occupation, the colonial government proposed some pretty ambitious urban renewal and development plans (市區改正) for many of Taiwan’s major towns and cities. In the early 1900s, planning for Keelung was finalized, and with Khóo at the helm, the government went ahead with some unpopular land-expropriation initiatives. Little is written on the subject, but I can imagine that official messaging on the touchy subject went over a little smoother when citizens realized that not even the Khóo’s family home would be spared in the process.

Link: 臺灣日治時期都市計畫 (Wiki)

Having little to no public works in the city, the renewal plans essentially re-shaped Keelung and modernized it by improving roads, adding an electricity grid, and constructing public works that took care of sanitation and sewage as well as offering citizens access to clean running water for the first time.

In 1909 (明知42年), the family moved to a new home where they would live for the next two decades. It was in this home that Khóo famously held his poetry and literature society meetings, promoting Chinese classics and Taiwanese literature.

At the age of 57, close to retirement, Khóo had a new mansion built for his family on a nearby hill, nicknamed by locals as “Major-General’s Mountain” (少將腳), given that it was also home to one of the Japanese forces commanders in Keelung.

Note: It’s reported that when was asked why he constructed his mansion on the hill, he remarked that in his golden years that he hoped for peace and quiet and a house constantly full of visitors couldn’t really achieve that. Basically he wasn’t just retiring from a life as a civil servant, but also as a public figure.

Completed in 1931 (昭和6年), the Khóo family mansion was officially named ‘Qìngyú Hall’ (慶餘堂), a pretty common title for traditional residences, hailing from an ancient Chinese idiom about ‘longevity’ and ‘greatness’ (積善之家,必有餘慶). In this specific case however, I find the name of the mansion interesting given Khóo’s background as an administrator at the nearby Qing-an Temple (慶安宮), which shares the same first Chinese character as the name he chose for his mansion. Coincidence? Possibly.

While technically located within the same area of the city as the family’s original residence, this time the mansion was constructed on a hill overlooking the commercial district and the port. With other well-off neighbors, the hill would have been a nice spot to live with great views of the hustle and bustle of the city.

That being said, the family were only able to live in the mansion for about a decade until the Second World War brought with it allied bombing campaigns and Keelung one of the most important targets. For their own protection, the family moved to another location on what they thought would be a temporary basis, however even though the mansion escape destruction, Khóo Tsú-song never returned.

Passing away just as the war ended, the mansion became home to several families of Chinese refugees who illegally squatted in the building for quite a while, and as time passed by, the ownership rights of the family seems to have deteriorated, and weren’t recognized by the new government. While it is not entirely supported by evidence, there are claims that the ownership rights of the family were disregarded by authoritarian government of the time as Khóo was considered a ‘collaborator’ with the Japanese Colonial Government and was a traitor, despite his legacy being one that is fondly remembered by locals. Nevertheless, the continued confusion as to the status of the mansion’s ownership is one of the main reasons why the Keelung City Government has been powerless to have the site fixed up.

When the mansion was ultimately abandoned is unclear, but it’s been empty for decades and the years have not been kind as much of the wood has rotted, the roof caved in, and anything on the interior was looted. As mentioned above, local civic groups however have taken an interest and over the past decade have been organizing volunteer groups to assist in cleaning up the site, which attracts quite a bit of garbage.

But its not likely that we’ll see much official effort to restore the building for the foreseeable future.

Architectural Design

As mentioned above, what remains of the mansion today is merely an empty shell of its former glory. Nevertheless, from what little remains and with the assistance of historic records, we can get a pretty good idea of how the mansion would have appeared in the 1930s.

Before I go into detail, I think it’s important to point something out that I briefly touched on earlier - I haven’t really seen this mentioned in any of the articles I’ve read about the man, or the mansion while researching for this article, so I’d like to point out that the narrative that Khóo Tsú-song was somehow a race traitor is a questionable one.

Khóo was a highly-educated man and especially gifted when it came to Chinese literature. However, when it came time for him to take his Imperial exam, the Japanese took control of Taiwan and the Qing Dynasty ended shortly thereafter. As a young man having to adapt to Japanese Colonial control, he dedicated his life to a career of public service and the development of the city he called home.

When it came time for Khóo to start considering retirement, he constructed a new mansion in his home town. Built during the Showa-era (昭和), when construction techniques in Taiwan were at their most refined, he could have easily had a Japanese-style mansion built for himself, and it would have been beautiful given the views of the city and the port at the time - But he didn’t do that - he paid homage to his heritage and constructed a traditional Fujian-style mansion on that hill almost as if he was making a bold statement about his cultural heritage.

That being said, Keelung is and always has been an international city, so even though the mansion takes most of its architectural inspiration from the traditional Fujian-style architecture that is so common in Taiwan, it is also an eclectic mixture of Japanese and Western influences in addition to making use of modern construction materials and techniques.

A traditional three-sided courtyard building (閩南式三合院建築), Khóo’s mansion is a two-floor structure that also included a basement. Essentially a three floor building, it was constructed with a mixture of brick and concrete using the ubiquitous Taiwan Renga (台灣煉瓦株式會社) red bricks made during the colonial era.

Note: These famed bricks can be found in many of the buildings from that era and amazingly remain in great shape today. So, if you look closely while touring the mansion, you may find bricks with “TR” printed on the top of them.

Suffice to say, the vast majority of the three-sided courtyard houses that you’ll find in Taiwan these days are single-floor buildings. This one remains quite special because it was constructed on the side of a mountain, which was carved in a way that allowed it to have a basement and two floors. The top floor was where the traditional design was most prevalent featuring a main section and ‘guardian dragon’ wings (護龍) on the left and right as well as a courtyard in front.

Interestingly, the ‘courtyard,’ here appears similar to its contemporaries, but is mostly just a flat section of the roof that covers the floors below. With this in mind, the top floor of the mansion is considerably smaller than the two floors below, but is also the most ornate part of the building. Likely used by the family as an ancestral shrine (given Khóo’s position as the head of the family) as well as providing a living space for the family’s servants within the wings, the architectural prowess used here was quite genius in its design.

Note: The Neihu Red House (內湖紅樓) might be of interest regarding brick Japanese-era mansions constructed with a fusion of architectural design.

Like many Hokkien-style buildings, the mansion was beautifully decorated with ornate cut-porcelain carvings (剪瓷雕) of flowers and birds and features some pretty cool bamboo windows (竹節圓窗) on either side of the door on the main wing. Similarly, one of the distinctive design features of the building are the ox-eye windows (牛眼窗) that you’ll find on each of the wings, which are Western Baroque-inspired inclusions.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about the design of the floors below as they have been pretty much emptied out. The stairs and anything else that once existed inside on both the first floor and the basement have disappeared over the years as the mansion was left to rot and open to looters.

The last thing I’ll highlight about the design is the stone-washed triangular staircase located in the center-front of the building that allowed visitors to reach the top floor from the outside. Today, this set of stairs is pretty much the only method for visitors to reach the top floor of the building as the wooden stairs within the interior of the building have rotted away and were removed at some point over the past few decades.

The stairs are part of a network of stairs that were constructed especially for the mansion as there are two paths from ground level that were constructed for the building.

In the records that I’ve seen, it was reported that when the mansion was under construction, it was far too expensive to have laborers carry the bricks for the building up the hill, so Khóo enlisted the help of local children who were paid a cent for every brick that they carried up the hill.

Today, the mansion lies in ruins with the roof having already caved in and the staircases between floors taken away (likely by volunteers for the safety of those visiting). Although it is an empty shell of its former self, the building has interestingly been overtaken by nature with trees and roots growing along the outer walls of the mansion reminiscent of the popular Anping Tree House (安平樹屋) in Tainan.

The Keelung City Government for its part has set up some plaques with information about the mansion’s history, and the set of stairs that leads you from ground level to the mansion has been adorned with some interesting murals depicting the building in its original state. Unfortunately for the reasons mentioned above, that’s about the extent of what they’re able to do at this point until the legal situation of its ownership is settled. Visiting the mansion is pretty easy as it is a simple detour from the popular Miaokou Night Market area, so if you are planning on enjoying a day exploring the city, it shouldn’t take you too long to get there to check it out.

Getting There

 

Address: #15, Lane #2 Aisi Road, Keelung (基隆市仁愛區愛四路2巷15號)

GPS: 25.127360, 121.744070

Situated on a hill that overlooks Keelung Harbor, the long-abandoned mansion is currently obscured by all of the modern buildings that have been constructed around it. For decades it has been hidden in plain sight within close proximity to the city’s famed Miaokou Night Market with most unaware of its existence.

These days, it is a bit more well-known, but still somewhat of an obscure tourist site within the city that the vast majority of tourists tend to miss.

The area around Keelung Harbor is very walkable, so if you find yourself in the city looking for something to do before the sun goes down and the night market comes to life, a stop by this historic mansion is a pretty great option given its close proximity.

In a departure from my usual style, I’m only going to be providing walking directions for this one. The reason for this is because the mansion is in pretty close proximity to the night market, so if you take the train to the city, you can get there pretty easily. On the other hand, if you’re driving a car, you’re going to have to park in one of the parking garages near the night market and you’ll end up walking from the there.

The narrow roads near the night market don’t really make the route to the mansion accessible most of the time, and if you attempt it, you’ll likely find yourself stuck for quite some time, without any opportunity to find a parking spot nearby. So, if you’ve got a car, park it somewhere near the harbor and walk around the downtown core. It’ll be a far more enjoyable experience, I promise you.

Walking through the night market area on Rensan Road, you’ll make a right turn on Aisi Road (愛四路) where you’ll continue walking until the narrow road starts to curve right. When it does you’ll notice a set of stairs on the left side of the road with a brown sign that (probably still) reads “Xu, Zi-Sang Historical Home.”

From there you’ll simply walk up the hill where you’ll find the mansion at the end.

Along the way you’ll want to take note of some of the murals on the walls that depict how the mansion originally appeared.

Once you arrive, you’ll want to be careful of where you’re walking as you explore as some of the sections of the mansion aren’t as stable, especially in the areas where the stairs between floors once existed.

Watching over the modern development of Taiwan’s Northern Port City for almost a century, the old Khóo mansion is one of the city’s historic treasures, and even though it is in pretty bad shape, its continued existence is an important look into the history of the city. While it might seem like a somewhat obscure tourist destination, if you find yourself in Keelung and have a bit of time, visiting won’t take too much of your time, and you’ll be rewarded with a nice view of the city when you’re there.



Baiyun Police Station (白雲派出所)

It’s a rare occasion when I’m able to combine my interest in the Japanese Colonial Era with another one of my interests, Urban Exploration. Today’s article will feature a bit of both. I’m also going to be touching on an unfortunate event that took place a few short years after the Japanese left Taiwan, and has had lasting repercussions on this beautiful country.

Today I’ll be introducing an abandoned Japanese-era police outpost in the mountains that dates back to the early 1920s. More than a century old, the station has played several roles over the years, but is most notably remembered for the suppression of both the indigenous people of Taiwan, and then later against those who opposed Chinese Nationalist rule.  

For some, the station is a dark reminder of an authoritarian history and the violent suppression of Taiwan’s indigenous people and the empty shell of a building that remains standing today is a fitting reminder of that history.

Recently recognized as a protected heritage building by the New Taipei City Government, funds have been available to clean up and preserve what little remains of the station. Still, it remains a skeleton of what it once was, and it doesn’t seem like there are any plans to restore any of the pieces that have been lost.

So, even though the historic police station is a somewhat obscure destination in the mountains of New Taipei’s Xizhi District, I’m not entirely convinced that I should consider it to be the type of ‘urban exploration’ that I’m usually interested in.

Sure, its an abandoned building, but its not abandoned in the same sense of other places that I visit. 

I’m going to try to keep this one somewhat brief in that I’ll spend a little less time introducing the history and architecture of the building than I usually do. However, given that I’m publishing this during the annual 2/28 Memorial Holiday, I will spend a short time introducing the events that made the police station a focal point for some unfortunate incidents that have become a stain on Taiwan’s modern history.

Given that 2022 marks the 30th anniversary of what many consider the formal end of Taiwan’s four-decade long period of White Terror (白色恐怖), which saw hundreds of thousands imprisoned and a still unknown number executed by the state - it’s important that these stories continue to be told and the crimes of the past continue to come to light.

Baiyun Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所)

When the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, opposition campaigns sprouted up with the Hokkien, Hakka and Indigenous inhabitants forming armed rebellions all over the island. To quell these movements, the Japanese authorities reacted violently, and as those who opposed their rule were pushed further into the mountains, the Japanese followed suit with a militaristic presence in areas that were once thought to be uncontrollable by the previous Qing rulers. 

For the first few years of Japanese rule, these opposition movements persisted around the island, but as was the case with almost every powerful colonial regime throughout history, they were violently silenced by the more powerful, and better equipped rulers. 

In 1920 (大正9年), the Jusanfun Police Branch (十三分警察官吏派出所) was set up as a mountainous outpost under the direction of the Shiodome District Branch of Taihoku Prefecture’s Police Bureau (臺北州警務部七星郡警察課的汐止分室). Located in the mountains of Shiodome (汐止街/しおどめまち), or what we refer to today as New Taipei’s Xizhi District (汐止區). Geographically located at the intersection of Nangang (南港), Shiding (石碇) and Xizhi (汐止), the outpost was meant to help keep keep the ‘Kypanas’ (峰仔峙社) of the Ketagalan tribe (凱達格蘭族) under control as well as to protect the local farmers as the area was famed for its tea production as well as its coal mines.

By the 1920s Japanese rule in Taiwan had more or less stabilized, so from the time it was constructed until the end of the Second World War, not all that much happened at the station. Records as to what happened after the Chinese Nationalists took over however remain a bit convoluted as resources about the station tend to provide conflicting accounts. Some of the historical information you’ll find about the building argues that it was occupied by the police until the late 1960s, while others argue that it was instead used as a dormitory for the principal of the elementary school next door. While I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case at some point, from everything I’ve seen I think its safe to say that the building was used as a police station and dormitory for the police until the late 1960s. 

What we do know for sure is that when the tragic ‘Luku Incident’ took place in 1952 (民國41年), the station was still in use as a branch of the Xizhi Police Station.

According to the information available from the National Culture Database Management System, in addition to the educational resources provided on-site, the station was still occupied in 1962 (民國51年) by a patrol officer, two administrative officers and a military conscript. The patrol officer was fortunate enough to have his own separate housing to the rear of the station, but the others stayed within the shared-dormitory section connected to the station. 

If my resources are correct, the station likely ceased operating as a police outpost in 1976 (民國65年), but it apparently wasn’t completely abandoned until 1992 (民國81年). My assumption is that during the sixteen year period from when the police left and the building was abandoned, it was probably used as a dormitory for the principal of the school next door.

If that’s the case, the accounts I’ve read could both be correct, but just not precise in the dates they provide. 

Finally, in 2009 (民國98年), the Taipei County Government listed the site as a protected historic building and slated the property for simple restoration, which included cleaning up the landscape and the abandoned materials that couldn’t be saved. Despite being abandoned for more than a decade, and both the building and the landscape in terrible shape, the empty shell of the building was protected as it was atypical of the construction techniques of the era for which there are very few still remaining intact.

Unfortunately, given that what remains of the outpost is an empty shell of its former self, I’m going to provide a couple of illustrations below to offer a better description of how the station originally appeared.

Before getting into the architectural design of the station, I’m going to provide a brief timeline of historic events for the station: 

Timeline:

  • 1920 (大正9年) - Taihoku Prefecture (台北州廳) is redistricted and Shiodome machi (汐止街/しおどめまち) falls under the administration of Shichisei district (七星郡/しちせいぐん) with the mountainous area falling under Shichisei as Jusanfun (十三分 / じゅう さん ふん).

  • 1920 (大正9年) - The 13th Branch Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所) opens for service.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to an end and Japan surrenders control of Taiwan to the Chinese Nationalists.

  • 12/29/1952 (民國41年) - Security personnel set up a blockade of the village of Luku (鹿窟), a short distance away from the station using the station for logistical purposes.

  • 03/05/1953 (民國42年) - The blockade of the village comes to an end and the security forces leave the area. 

  • 1976 (民國65年) - The building ceases operation as a police outpost and ownership is transferred to the local school for administrative usage.

  • 1992 (民國81年) - Having become run down, the building is completely abandoned, and is left to the elements. 

  • 08/20/2009 (民國98年) - The Taipei County government lists the station as a protected historic site (歷史建築).

Architectural Design

When I write about these historic buildings, I usually spend a considerable amount of time describing their architectural design. In this case however, I don’t really feel like I need to spend too much time on that this time as it’s currently only a skeleton of its original self, with only the concrete base remaining. 

Interestingly, even though the history is rather hit-and-miss in terms of the information that is readily available, when it comes to the architectural design of the building we’re blessed with a wealth of information regarding how it would have looked more than a century ago.

Constructed in 1920 (大正9年), the station was built in an era when Japanese architects were taking inspiration from the Art Deco designs of Europe and fusing it with traditional Japanese design techniques. making use of a combination of reinforced concrete and wood in a style known as ‘Wayō secchū kenchiku’ (和洋折衷建築/わようせっちゅうけんち), or literally “Japanese-Western Eclectic Architecture,” this architectural style spread throughout Japan during the Meiji Restoration (明治維新), and continued with Emperor Taisho (大正) and his successor Emperor Showa (昭和天皇).  

Essentially split into two sections, the eastern side of the building was constructed with concrete and was where the daily operation of the police station would have taken place. The roof of the building was higher than the western side and features the two-sided kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) style of roof design. The western side of the building on the other hand was a traditional living space for the employees of the police station and was constructed in a more traditional style featuring a beautiful four-sided yosemune-zukuri (寄棟造 /よせむねづくり) style of roof, creating a three dimensional design as illustrated below.

One of the most important architectural elements of Art-Deco style is the inclusion of flowing geometric shapes and it would be an understatement to say that architects of the time absolutely loved fusing traditional Japanese-style ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs in these designs. These geometrically complex roofs expanded upon the Art Deco style and ensured that traditional Japanese characteristics were plainly visible. So, while it may have appeared that the building consisted of two different roofs, they were actually connected with the eastern end having an arch facing outwards towards the entrance while the western side arched in the opposite direction. 

Obviously, since the only part of the building that remains today is the concrete administrative section, the only part of the roof that we can see now is the (recently restored) two-sided kirizuma roof, which is constructed to look like an ‘open book’ or the Chinese character “入”.

The architecture of this section was regarded by designers as the primarily western-inspired section of the station, or the ‘youkan’ (洋館 / ようかん) with high ceilings and a spacious open interior. 

When you visit today, you’ll find the outline of where the Japanese-style designed ‘wakan’ (和館  /わかん) once existed, with some of the cement pieces from the base still intact. The building itself however was demolished decades ago, and I doubt that there will be any efforts to reconstruct it in the near future. That being said, the building was constructed of wood and was a ‘shared-dormitory’ style building featuring a living space, kitchen, common area and a western-style bathroom (likely added in the 1960s).

The living space would have been connected directly to the station and employees would have been able to go back and forth during the day between the station and the residence.

As mentioned above, there also used to be a separate dorm building to the rear that housed the patrol officer, and I’m assuming his family. The building wouldn’t have been all that large, but it seems like it would have been completely covered by a beautiful tree, which would have been nice. There isn’t any record as to when that particular building disappeared, so I’m assuming that it was bulldozed around the same time as the other building, but there is little evidence that it actually existed today.

Today, the station is simply an empty shell with only a little evidence of what once existed on the grounds - The station grounds cover about 1000 square meters of land (300坪), and if you walk around you’ll be able to find other objects that once existed on the site, such as an old flag pole and the stone barriers on the hill in front of the station. If you take the time to explore and know where to look, you’ll be able to find quite a bit while walking around.  

The Luku Incident (鹿窟事件)

One of the first (as well as the largest) events of the White Terror Period (白色恐怖), the infamous ‘Luku Incident' was a several month-long massacre starting on December 29th, 1952 and spread over a several month period until March 3rd 1953.

While many of the facts about what happened are still unknown, records are slowly opening up thanks to the Transitional Justice branch of the government, tasked with discovering the truth of what happened during Taiwan’s period of authoritarian one-party rule. 

What we do know is a situation the authoritarian government perceived as a threat resulted in a heavy-handed response that saw thousands of police officers marching into the mountains, blockading a village for months, and ended in the arrests of hundreds of innocent people, many of whom were imprisoned on false charges, while others were executed for crimes against the state. 

Official records (currently) state that more than four-hundred villagers were arrested, one hundred imprisoned and thirty-six of them were executed for charges relating to treason or espionage over the four month period. For those that were arrested, interrogation and torture was pretty much a given, and if one ultimately submitted and admitted to a crime (as many do during torture sessions), it was a death sentence.

So what caused this mess? 

Reeling from their losses during the Chinese Civil War, the Chinese Nationalists were intent on eliminating anyone with communist sympathies here in Taiwan in fear that ‘collaborators’ would be able to assist those back in China in any future attack on Taiwan.

In 1949, looking for a strategic stronghold in Taiwan, the village of Luku (鹿窟) in the mountains between the port of Keelung and the capital of Taipei was selected to become a communist base of operations.

By 1950, it is estimated that the group had attracted around three-hundred followers, and named itself the “Taiwan People’s Self Defense Force” (台灣人民武裝保衛隊). In late 1952, one the members of the group was captured and gave up details of the group’s operations including those who were involved. The area was then put under surveillance, and within a month it was decided that the Security Bureau (保密局), the Security Command (保安司令部), the Taipei Garrison Command (台北衛戍司令部) and the Taipei County Police (台北縣警察局) would coordinate and dispatch a 15,000 man response to block the mountains and rout out the communist threat. 

For most people Taiwan today, the incident was one of those largely forgotten events of the White Terror period - Few actually knew what happened, nor what the government did to the people of this village. For the villagers however, life in the aftermath of what happened was never able to return to normal.

For much of the 1950s, the vast majority of the villages men had disappeared, or were dead - This left only widows, children and the elderly, most of whom were geographically isolated from the rest of Taiwan. Coupled with a sense of alienation from their fellow villagers (who were forced to point fingers at each other in their confessions) mention of what happened became taboo within the community, which was renamed ‘Guangming’ (光明里) by the government in order to erase memory of what took place.

In order to further ‘punish’ the people of Luku, the coal mines were shut down and roads in and out of the village weren’t maintained, forcing many to simply pack up and leave.

When the five-decade long Martial Law era came to an end in 1987, and the nation started to transition into a multi-party democracy, the crimes of the past started to come under scrutiny with the 2-28 Incident (二二八事件) given official recognition by the government in 1991, followed by the Luku Incident a few years later.

On December 29th, 2000, the 48th anniversary of the incident, the government unveiled the Luku Incident Memorial (鹿窟事件紀念牌) at the intersection of Luku, Shiding (石碇) and Nangang (南港) as a reminder of the horrible events and the hope that the healing process could finally start after so many years. 

Link: Luku Incident Memorial 鹿窟事件紀念碑 (Foreigners in Taiwan)

How does this terrible incident that took place 70 years ago relate to the Baiyun Police Station?

If you take into consideration the geographic location of Luku Village and the station, it’s easy to see why.

The station was used as a command center for some of the 15,000 armed security personnel who barricaded the village. It was also used for surveillance of the village for the month prior to the blockade.

Link: Gone but Not Forgotten: 7 Historic Sites to Learn More About the White Terror (Taiwan Scene)

Finally, as the village of Luku declined in the aftermath of the incident, the need for a police station in the area similarly became unnecessary ultimately sealing the fate of the building.

Today, the station, like the village above is an empty shell, but as we look back at the tragedies of the Luku Incident, it remains an important historic location with regard to remembering the mistakes of the past.  

Getting There

 

Address: #373 Xiding Road, Xizhi District, New Taipei City (新北市汐止區汐碇路373號)

GPS: 25.037180, 121.641720

Okay, so there is a bit of an issue with the address above, making getting to the area a little difficult.

Coincidentally, when I attempted to visit the station, I had thought I was going to have to jump a fence or something to get in, given the directions that I had read before departure.

The address listed above is officially the address for Linsen Elementary School (林森小學), but that’s not actually where you’re going to find the entrance when you arrive. It is essentially just the closest physical address to where you’ll find the police station given that it doesn’t have an address of its own. 

When you’re making your way up the very narrow mountainous Xiding Road (汐碇路), you’ll come across a sharp turn where you’ll find the entrance to the school on the left. If you’re arrived at the school, you’ll have already passed the entrance to the police station.

When the road curves, you’ll notice a stone set of stairs that ascends a tree-covered hill - from there you’ll simply walk up the hill for a minute until you arrive at the station. The problem for most people is that the station isn’t clearly marked on the road, so you really have to pay attention. 

If you’re driving a car or a scooter, simply input the address above into your GPS or Google Maps and you’ll be able to find your way there from wherever you’re going. A word of advice on that matter though, if you’re driving a car and you pass the entrance to the police station, it’s going to be quite difficult to turn around on the very narrow road. You’re going to have to pay close attention to your GPS and when you see the road start to curve just before you arrive at the elementary school, pull over on the side of the road where there is a grassy area that allows visitors to park. 

If you’re relying on public transportation to get to the police station, you’re in luck as there is amazingly a bus that services the (somewhat obscure) area. That being said, the bus doesn’t come all that often so you’re likely to find yourself waiting around for a while if you take that option. 

The bus is #F903 from Xizhi (汐止) to Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院), and it only services the area seven times a day which means that you’re going to have to be very careful with your timing. 

From Xizhi Train Station (汐止火車站): 06:30 08:20 10:00 12:00 13:30 15:30 17:30

From Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院): 07:10 09:15 10:40 12:40 14:10 16:10 18:10 

Not wanting to rely on the bus, I rented a GoShare from Nangang Train Station (南港車站) and made my way up the mountain and back by scooter. Unfortunately the only shared scooter services you’ll find in the Xizhi area are iRent and Wemo and they’re few and far between. 

If you were brave you could also rent a Youbike and make your way up the hill to the station, but the hill is quite steep and it’d be a pretty difficult ride, so I wouldn’t really recommend that method. 

The New Taipei City government has invested a bit of money on the preservation of this historic Japanese-era police station, but it’s certainly not a destination that is meant to attract a lot of tourists.

If you find yourself in the area hiking one of the trails, then you should probably make the effort to stop by to check it out, however I don’t think many people are as invested in these things as I am and aren’t going to make a special effort to travel all the way there just to check it out.