An Oral Historian’s (and Former Archaeologist’s) View of Heinlenville

It is always bittersweet for me to go into the field and watch archaeologists do the work I did in my youth. Due to injuries I no longer excavate. I miss it. I miss grubbing around in the dirt. As a child my mom would compare me to Pigpen in the Peanuts comic strip. As an adult working on a dig, I often had the distinction of having the dirtiest face at the end of the day. I miss the anticipation and hope of what the next shovelful of dirt will uncover. Usually it was more dirt; but when I found an obsidian flake, a pottery sherd, or a bone fragment I felt like I had discovered a treasure. I miss the camaraderie of working with a crew. And yet, being an oral historian has rewards of its own.

I feel the same sense of discovery when I interview “old-timers” about their lives. What will a former resident of Heinlenville remember about going to temple? About playing games in the streets? About celebrating with the community? Combining peoples’ memories with the archaeology and the historical research can bring the story “alive” by adding a richness, a vibrancy, a tie to the next generation that archaeology alone can lack.

When cousins Edward Chin and Vincent Chan were reminiscing about their childhood in Heinlenville, Edward Chin laughingly told me about the mischief of his youth. As a prank the boys would get rotten eggs and place them on their teacher’s chair in Chinese school. When the teacher chased them with a switch they would run like the dickens. The boys were prepared for this event, explains Mr. Chan, they would wear heavy clothing like leather jackets to protect their backs. A person’s more mundane memories are equally valuable. Tad Kogura, for example, remembered where residents dumped their trash, which is of vital interest to archaeologists.

Several months ago, due to the much appreciated effort of Hatsue Shiroyama, I had the opportunity of interviewing some members of the Japanese Reunion group about their memories of Heinlenville and Nihonmachi. (Ralph Pearce videotaped this interview, a copy of which is archived in the Japanese American Museum in San Jose.) Interviewing six people at once—a first for me—was quite an experience. It was fascinating to watch and hear the members bounce their memories off each other. Hatsue Shiroyama, for example, recalled the experiences of her family running the bathhouse an important institution in the Japanese community.

Elaine-Maryse Solari
ASC Oral Historian

A Graduate Student's View of Heinlenville

As a first year graduate student in Sonoma State’s Cultural Resources Management masters program, I was thrilled to get the opportunity to participate in the excavations done in San Jose’s Heinlenville Chinatown. As this was my introduction to urban archaeology, I was able to learn a lot about how the pro’s from the ASC approach the archaeology of a large city block- as well as receive a few valuable pointers of the fine art of trowel manipulation!

Over the week we were able to step back in time as our trusty backhoe driver skillfully peeled back the modern layers of asphalt and gravely fill and revealed the humble traces of the once thriving community of Heinlenville. Although much soil was scraped away during the construction of the recently demolished buildings, we were still left with a map illustrating decades of occupation and use long buried beneath the modern surface.

Patches of the original building foundations were neatly preserved, as well as several “robber’s trenches” where the valuable bricks had been removed for re-use after the razing of the buildings. In one pit, one could see the “evolution of the sewer pipe” as evident from the progression from redwood (yes, wood!) sewer lines, to the more familiar terracotta pipes that can still be seen today.

This project not only offered me a chance to learn more about archaeology as a science, but I was able to witness first hand how important archeology is to the community. Long time residents eagerly watched our progress and offered up historical anecdotes, and Connie Young Yu was able to witness the unveiling of her grandfather’s store. After half a century under asphalt, she was able to see and touch the remnants of a place she had heard stories of her whole life.

I had the good fortune to be enlisted as a tour guide on our “Public Day”, and was able to connect with hundreds of enthusiastic visitors and neighborhood residents interested in the history and archaeology of San Jose’s early Chinese and Japanese populations. People who waited in long lines, braved the rain and cold wind, and yet were still cheery and full of good questions. Although I manned my post as tour guide for five hours straight, the energy and enthusiasm of the participants made my job fun and engaging.

At the tail end of the last tour, while overlooking the foundations of Connie Young Yu’s family store, a young boy earnestly asked, “Is that the Great Wall of China?” While the modest brick foundation may not have the illustrious reputation of China’s great wall, the wonder in the little boy’s eyes was undiscriminating. It is that same wonder that makes the blisters, sunburns, aches and pains, and inevitable coating of grime all worth while!

I was so happy to have been a part of such a fun and community supported project! The people were interested and friendly, the neighborhood had great food (we particularly loved the Ethiopian restaurant across the street), and everyone enthusiastically shared the common goal of bringing the town of Heinlenville back to life.

Chelsea Rose
CRM Graduate Student, SSU

Open House Heinlenville and Nihonmachi Archaeology — Sat. March 15th, 2008

The community event, sponsored by the Anthropological Studies Center (ASC) and the Redevelopment Agency of the City of San José was on the 5th day of the rotation, and there was no telling how many people would show up, especially in weather that suddenly turned inclement. While the team was setting up that morning, there was intermittent rain (plus a bit of hail). This “open house” was more like an “open field day,” with the team out there draining the ditches of water.

In the whipping wind, Annita tacked down her “exhibits,” moving easels with photos and maps and improvising alternative set-ups. Archaeologists are unfazed by anything and ready for everything, I’ve learned. An hour before the start, as our team of guides and site interpreters gathered for a briefing by Adrian and Julia, there was already a crowd with umbrellas, gathering at the gate on Taylor Street.

Then they came in, wave after wave. Families with young children, elderly residents from the neighborhood, many an official “V.I.P.,” reporters and a boy scout troop; from the South Bay, but also Oakland, Lafayette, Mendocino, and Sacramento. People responded as if it was truly a unique, once in a lifetime event. A history area set up by Leslie was a source of orientation and information. Each group was taken on a guided tour on a route that went to each of the open trench sites. Field Director Mike Meyer had marked in color Cleveland Ave. and store sites so visitors had a sense of the imprint of Heinlenville.

Tour leaders, armed with maps, explained the layout of the town and narrated the community’s unique history as well. The archaeologist, stationed at each trench site gave an authoritative but friendly presentation to each rotating group. Over and over. And answered question after question. (“Is that the Great Wall of China” asked a tiny kid of Bryan who was showing the brick foundation at 34 Cleveland.) The first trench, was at the site of the store of May Wah (head of Hop Sing Tong) where pig bones were found.

Children were thrilled for the chance to do some screening themselves and find artifacts—a hands-on archaeological experience for all ages.

Down the street was the site of my Grandfather’s store, Kwong Wo Chan, now with an easel in front with a picture of the store, photos of my dad, John C. Young, biking down Cleveland, and my grandmother with her neighbors. At the trench of the restaurant, Ken Ying Low, I noticed that people wanted to handle the porcelain pieces, and Mike S. said, “go ahead, touch it, it’s survived a hundred years.”

The last stop, where I was stationed most of the time, was the site of the Ng Shing Gung Temple, center of the Chinese community and heart of its culture. There at the corner of Taylor and 6th I had the expansive view of Cleveland Avenue and people walking towards me. The clouds had scattered and the sky was big and bright. This is the same fung swei my ancestors felt in 1887. When the visitors gathered around, I was inspired to tell them of the scene my father described: how on the eve of every feast day, the Lunar New Year or Dai Jui, people would come out of their stores with pots and bowls to go to the mui (temple) for their share of the “jai” prepared by the caretaker and blessed by two Taoist priests. I even gave the recipe, which I learned through oral history to me from my grandparents. People seemed fully engaged in the tour and impressed by the significance of what they saw.

I wanted to express how I felt about the spirit of the people who lived here, their struggle against exclusion, and how they had a home base here for 44 years because of the courage of John Heinlen, but I think they had already gotten it by now.

For me, as a historian and descendant of this Chinese community, it was a deeply involving personal experience, with even some surprising revelations. Folks told me stories—they shared their memories. A Filipino couple who used to live in the area said they had been in the temple as curious children, and described how dark and mysterious it was, with incense burning.

I guided two elderly men, Ed and Vince Chin, cousins who met up for the first time in ten years—at this Open House—to the site of my grandfather’s store. I pointed to the photos and asked questions and learned more than I expected. Ed Chin used to live on 6th street and knew my grandparents and dad. Vince lived at his family store next to my grandfather’s. He walked silently and slowly with a cane, but the place evoked his memories. He suddenly told of how he used to peek through the wooden cracks of the walls and watch my Grandmother. I asked cautiously, what was she doing? He responded vigorously, “Making whiskey!”

At the end of the Open House, working without a break, everyone on the team was hoarse, parched, hungry and exhausted, but smiling and up because of the enthusiastic turnout. Many visitors expressed their enthusiasm and gratitude upon leaving. One guest told me, how wonderful the tour was, that it was “like a PBS experience!”

“Come and See Archaeology in Action” said the announcement and 540 people came and did just that. It was an amazing day. I want to say Julia, Adrian, Charlene, Annita, Mike M., Mike S., Mark, Charlie, Chelsea, Erica, Sandra, Bryan, Maria, Leslie, Rut, Erin, Elaine-Maryse, Bryan and Anna, every single one of the crew and volunteers who made this day happen! Well done!

Connie Young Yu