pages 71-138 of Naruta 2006
Previous Archaeological Research on
Chapter 3: Previous Archaeological Research on California Chinatowns Archaeological excavations of sites related to Chinese Californians have been occurring for well over two decades. Nearly all have been in association with construction projects, and undertaken to comply with the California Environmental Quality Act or, when federal money has been involved, the National Historic Preservation Act. Perhaps the first overview of work on such sites outside of a compliance-driven Cultural Resource Management report comes in a 1993 chapter, “Old approaches and new directions,” by archaeologist Greenwood. She notes the difficulty of sharing information contained in what frequently are unpublished or otherwise hard-to-obtain reports. Now, with more than a decade of new CRM work conducted since Greenwood’s review, the need to understand the excavation sample is growing. This chapter evaluates previous archaeological research on Chinatown sites in California. Included are the results from excavations at Sacramento (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982, 1990, 1997), San Jose (Roop 1988; R. Allen et al. 2002), Los Angeles (Greenwood 1996; Costello et al. 1998, 1999), and Riverside (Great Basin Foundation 1987). For each of the four cities discussed in this chapter, discussion of historical information is followed by description of the archaeological project area and its modern context. Significant depositional events are identified. To aid in understanding present-day aspects of how the archaeological samples have been derived, relevant points of the excavation technique are discussed. The location of the curated artifacts is identified, when known. A detailed description of the contexts archaeologically sampled is followed by identification of some of the archaeology’s interesting results. For Oakland, Chapter 4 discusses the results of previous cultural resource mitigation excavations in areas associated with the Chinese American community, assesses their success in addressing potentially significant archaeological remains, and synthesizes previous and new research to design a practical framework for compliance excavations of Oakland’s earliest Chinatowns sites. Most excavations of Chinatown sites have used a common research theme, that of investigating what’s referred to as “ethnic boundary maintenance” (e.g. Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 30). Following the introduction of data from around California, and, in Chapter 4, new data from Oakland, Chapter 5 returns to examining this research topic. In reviewing the previous archaeological research, the emphasis is on understanding the nature of each project’s archaeological samples. Therefore, attention is paid to the mechanics of how the sample was recovered, that is, how excavation and other research methods shaped the observed data. The second main issue is what the data represent. Emphasis is placed on understanding the associations the archaeologists were drawing between observed deposits and the persons or portions of the community who made them. In looking at the excavation samples from throughout California, a keen focus on the data’s temporal and intra-site context is necessary to counteract any tendency to consider all deposits as potentially equivalent representatives of an essential “Chineseness” that might be expressed to a greater or lesser degree. A similar issue also arises from the nineteenth-century legacy of essentializing. Those whites who worked with and contributed to constructing a Chinese race with inherent negative characteristics also framed a “Chinatown” as a natural formation of the unassimilable and temporary presence of this race. This study acknowledges that what makes a Chinatown is an often complex process of identification by community members, outsiders, or both. As discussed further in Chapter 5, this process of social identity formation, then, is in itself an important area of study. Therefore, this chapter’s discussion of archaeologically recovered remains from each Chinatown is situated in the context of the development and life history of that community. For each city discussed in this chapter, a summary of the Chinatown’s development in its larger community precedes each section’s discussion of archaeological data. The information on community development also forms the basis of the discussion in Chapter 5 of the importance of community spatial data in developing Chinese American archaeology. One result of the orientation to the time period of the sample and its relation to the community’s development is to highlight what a small sample has thus far been obtained. While the information recovered through archaeological research has been invaluable, it has been derived from excavation samples that represent a very small geographical portion of the community. Comparing excavation samples to community histories also highlights what small slices of time had been sampled. To point out an extreme example by way of illustration, the archaeological sample from San Francisco Chinatown, continuously occupied from 1849 to the present (Yip 1985; Choy and Yip 1979), seems to include only excavation of portions of a Gold Rush era Chinese store that Pastron (1990: 17, 5) notes his firm discovered in the redevelopment of the 600 California Street site near the intersection of Sacramento and Kearny Streets. To aid in putting the samples in perspective, Figure 3-1 plots the excavation samples and site duration for each city sampled. Solid outlines indicate the duration of a particular Chinatown as confirmed by primary evidence, and dotted lines indicate probable time durations not yet confirmed. Solid fill marking out the time range at a site indicates that it has been sampled with an archaeological excavation of deposits with discrete temporal and geographical association. An example is a privy for which the beginning and ending dates are able to be determined, and it has been possible to establish the relationship of the deposit to a portion of the community, such as a household, store, or group of workers. A cross-hatch fill marks where the archaeological sample is associated with the general Chinatown population, or with some portion of the population of unknown size over a broad period of time. Examples here include deposits built by an unknown number of individuals over time depositing refuse at a town dump. While the archaeological excavations recovered remains associated with non-Chinese residents, this dissertation focuses on deposits linked with Chinese Californians, in order to best aid in understanding what constitutes the current sample of Chinatowns. The temporal and geographical bounds on each sample raise the issue of appropriate use of the sample in making statistical comparisons and other observations. This is discussed using examples from the data in the concluding sections of synthesis and new results. Recognizing the geographic and temporal bounds of the archaeological sample is also relevant to cultural resource management decision-making personnel who may have to make decisions about a resource’s uniqueness in a compliance environment, such as under the California Environmental Quality Act. With such a small excavation sample of sites related to early Chinese Californians, and small samples within those sites, we are still at the stage where, until excavation and analysis can determine otherwise, the vast majority of potential deposits that might be encountered would have to be considered potentially unique and legally significant. This review focuses on major archaeological projects on sites identified as Chinatowns in existence during the period 1850-1910. It is not an exhaustive review of all archaeology at sites associated with historic Chinese populations. For example, Costello and Maniery’s (1987; also Maniery and Costello 1986) reports on the 1915 community of Walnut Grove, California, that later founded Locke, California (Gillenkirk and Motlow 1987: 9-10), make a major contribution to understanding a time period just after this dissertation’s study period. Archaeological excavations of the historic Chinese community of Woodland, in Yolo County, retrieved deposits dated 1870 to 1885 from a Chinese laundry of that rural area (Orlins 1982: 4; Felton, Lortie, and Schultz 1984). Archaeological research on the shrimping work sites (Schulz and Lortie 1985; Schulz 1996) contributes to understanding the development of early industry during California’s first years as a state. Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 31-30) provide a history of the earliest development of archaeology on sites associated with Chinese Americans, and in a later work (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1990: 15) provide a list, adapted from O’Connor, Speer, and Dondero (1986), of the 1970s and 1980s archaeological projects in the western states which involved Chinese American sites. Archaeologists Schulz and R. Allen (2002) compiled and maintain the widest ranging single resource, a bibliography entitled “Archaeology and Architecture of the Overseas Chinese.” Their information-sharing goals are echoed in Wegars’ work collecting manuscripts and archaeological data into the Asian American Comparative Collection at the University of Idaho (Greenwood 1993: 398; Wegars 2004). This dissertation’s focus on California’s Chinatowns, as defined by residents or contemporary outsiders, narrowed the focus away from examining excavations of the Chinese laundries found in various locations throughout cities. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century, Chinese laundries were often symbolic and practical targets of discriminatory ordinances, and the idea that of all buildings they were especially fire prone led to the Sanborn Fire Insurance Company clearly marking their locations on their nineteenth-century city-wide surveys. Consequently, compliance excavations have investigated the remains of numerous Chinese laundries in California. For example, in San Francisco, along the waterfront near the intersection of Howard and Stewart Streets was found an 1880s Chinese laundry (Archeo-Tec 1988; see also Pastron 1981, and guiding historical framework developed by historians Olmstead and Olmstead (R. Olmstead et al. 1979, 1981, 1982; N. Olmstead 1991). Remains of the 1870s Fat Yuen Laundry, located south of Market Street, were found in the Moscone Convention Center site during an Archeo-Tec excavation mentioned in Pastron (1990: 17). In Oakland, the Cypress Freeway Project excavations uncovered features and artifacts related to a Chinese laundry at 1813 7th Street in West Oakland that operated between the late 1880s and the first decade of the twentieth century (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 2004: 249; Yang 1999). Sacramento’s San Fong Chong Laundry, which operated from 1895 through 1954 at 814 I Street, is the subject of its own archaeological Report (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1990). In Stockton, an exceptionally dense deposit was recently recovered from the Sing Lee laundry, which operated there possibly as early as 1886, though it was definitely established and operating from the turn-of-the-century through 1936 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 2004: 249; Waghorn 2005). Other sites and time-spans sampled include a Chinese laundry of 1890s Ventura (Greenwood 1980; Bente 1976, as cited in Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1990: 11-12, 10) and Sacramento’s 907 Front Street from about 1882 to 1895. The results of these archaeological investigations of Chinese Californians who lived and worked outside of Chinatowns hold great potential for painting a fuller picture of nineteenth and early twentieth century life in California. SACRAMENTO CHINATOWNS History As the Gold Rush brought people from all over the world to Northern California, part of the Gold Rush trail to Sutter’s Fort grew into Sacramento’s “main thoroughfare and center of trade,” J Street (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 9, citing Brienes, West and Schultz 1981a: 31). After passing through Sacramento, then the powerhouse of commercial activity for the interior of the state, the road branched into the many roads leading to the mines. One block north of J Street, the city grid was interrupted by a freshwater lake or slough formed by a former oxbow lake of the American River (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 275, 1997: 8). Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1997: 17-18) note this lake had “limited possibilities of flushing by the Sacramento River,” and that it indeed became a health hazard. Development along the shore—along I Street—was less desirable, and the lake’s historic names—Sutter Lake, China Slough, and China Lake—reveal the association of this area with Sacramento’s early Chinatown. While the initial date for Chinese settlement of Sacramento is not clear, and locations of places of residence prior to 1854 are similarly unknown, documents show the center of Sacramento’s Chinese community in the 1850s through at least the 1860s was located in downtown Sacramento immediately south of Sutter Lake (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 7, 9, 62; 1982: 13-16). An 1854 drawing entitled “I Street, ‘Chinadom,’” depicted the historic Chinese district, also called “Little China” as centered on I Street between 5th and 6th Streets (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 62, 15, reproducing a drawing from Barber and Baker 1855). Following a frontier style, the buildings were constructed of a variety of materials: wood, canvas, brick, and iron (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 12). Some settlers built further into the slough, in extending beyond the levee Chinese workers had constructed around the town and dealing with the flooding marsh environment by building up on stilts (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 12; 1982: 11, map adapted from Brienes 1979: 12). In a project focused on the block bounded by the streets named H, I, 5th, and 6th, Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1997: 98-99, 284, 64) found that the HI56 block in 1855 was home to offices and boarding houses of four of California’s then-Five Chinese Companies, the Ning Yeung, Sam Yap, Sze Yap, and Yeung-wo Associations (where these spellings are consistent with those used in the Reverend William Speer’s contemporary English language newspaper, The Oriental). To give an idea of the types of services the Association provided: the Sacramento union noted the Sze Yap Association’s House at 519/511 I Street contained a “hospital” (Sacramento Union, 4 July 1855, quoted in Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 284). The prominence of the Sacramentans in California politics is indicated by the fact that among the associations’ agents were men who had signed petition letters to “His Excellency, Governor Bigler” of June 1852, and also on an earlier occasion of the governor speaking negatively of Chinese Californians (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 283-284; C. McClain 1994: 10-12, 17-18, 22-24). Much of what is known about the early years of Sacramento’s Chinatown comes through enumeration of losses from a fire that swept Sacramento in 1855 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 19-20, 98-99, 62). The fire of July 1855 actually came on the heels of a fire in July of the previous year, and the researchers note that the Sacramento City Council took action following the second fire, holding “an emergency meeting in which they amended an ordinance fixing the limits wherein only fire proof buildings could be constructed to include the ‘Chinese burnt district’” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 134, quoting Sacramento Daily Union, 11 July 1855). The researchers relay the newspaper report that within a week of the fire, the Chinese quarter was beginning to be rebuilt, with “six substantial brick buildings” to line both sides of I Street already being planned. While the profile of Sacramento’s early Chinese community is by no means complete, important information has been recovered. Researcher Sucheng Chan compiled data from federal census schedules for 1860, 1870, and 1880 to provide the context of “occupational structure and social stratification” of the Chinese population in both Sacramento city and county (Chan 1981), and this data was abstracted into a table in Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 14-15; see also map in Chan 1986: 50). Later researchers fleshed out the development of Sacramento’s Chinatown over the next twenty years using data from sources such as city directories, property tax assessments, and the business license day book to form a chronology of Chinese businesses facing I Street between 5th and 6th in the period from 1854 to 1873 (HI56 block table in Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 98-99). This extends the earlier research focused on the development of the other side of I Street (IJ56 block, 1982: 25), which, being situated closer to Sacramento’s main commercial thoroughfare of J Street, was dominated by the businesses and residences of Chinese merchants. In all, I Street between 5th and 6th streets hosted Chinese merchants, lodgers, entertainment venues, a doctor’s office, and at least one butcher shop (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 9, 102). Demographic shifts began in the 1860s. Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 21) report that I Street’s Chinese businessmen declined in number “as the occupational and residential patterns of their former clientele shifted from independent miners in the northern Sierra to wage laborers throughout the state.” Another shift came from the impacts upstream hydraulic mining had on the Sacramento Valley. Brechin (1999: 48) documents how the hydraulic mining debris that had been affecting the river systems as early as 1855 accumulated to cause massive flooding of Sacramento in the winter of 1861-1862, so much so that “Governor-elect Leland Stanford had to be rowed from his home to his inauguration.” The city and its streets were raised block by block, and as this massive project reduced flooding on the blocks of the Chinatown district, property values went up and Chinese merchants and residents were pushed out (Brechin 1999: 48, Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 9, 21). This process of community displacement seems to have occurred by 1870. Examining an 1869 bird’s-eye view of the city (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 53) reveals a portion of the railway that crossed the HI56 block (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 26, 68, 22). Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 22; 1997: 67-68, 26, 139) found that this increased the value of the area for railroad warehouses, and by the time of the 1869 drawing, one section of I Street’s wooden buildings were replaced by a wood and coal yard. Concluding that by 1870 this former center of the Chinese community “was also no longer occupied by Chinese,” Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 22) draw attention to the fact that “within a 15-year period, the ethnic makeup and economic orientation of the half block neighborhood had changed completely.” By the 1870s, the new geographic focus for Chinese Sacramentans was further out on I Street, in the “less desirable neighborhood” between 5th and 2nd Streets (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 139, 26; 1982: 22). Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1997: 26) note that the areas of the former “Little China” that did remain residential “constituted one of the most ethnically and racially mixed sections of the city.” Still, the area of the early Chinese quarter underwent further changes linked to the railroad. Praetzellis and Praetzellis (274) record that by about 1910, the Southern Pacific Railroad Company filled in China Lake to create more land for their use. The new Chinatown site continued into the twentieth century, and today community members are working on ways to further develop the Chinatown core, in the area encompassed by 3rd, 5th, I, and J Streets, in a manner that meets current community needs while attending to the area’s “traditional cultural and symbolic role” (Chinatown Renaissance Project 1998). A new federal courthouse at the site of the original Chinatown was designed to include an exhibit of artifacts and the historical account of those early Sacramentans (Praetzellis 1999). Archaeological Project Area and Modern Context Sacramento’s early Chinatown has been sampled by Sonoma State University’s Anthropological Studies Center in two projects. Excavations of the HI56 block were charged with investigating the non-rectangular block bounded by the modern-day 6th Street, I Street, and extensions of 5th and H streets, a modern context “entirely covered by fill, asphalt, and buildings” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 7, 1). Excavations of the IJ56 block investigated its north half, an area bounded by 5th, I, and 6th Streets and the center ally, and with modern conditions of “mixed soils and demolition rubble” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 5, 49). Significant Depositional Events This site’s significant site formation events and processes include a number of natural and human actions. Fires twice destroyed structures of the Chinatown, in the summers of 1854 and 1855 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 96). The area along China Lake was used for “ad hoc refuse disposal by residents” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 7) and the lake itself was documented to have flooded a number of times in the 1850s and 1860s (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 10, 37). Sacramento’s raising the city’s streets and filling lots provided the 3 to 5 foot deep layer of fill soil covering historic ground surface in the project area (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 7,1). The business district around J and K Streets was raised in 1853, and this was just the beginning of a twenty five-year project that raised the city streets from 4 to 16 feet (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 10, 36). This street raising left many lots with sunken areas, some of which were used as alleys, and some, at least as late as 1885, were used as cesspools (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 11). Building demolitions occurred, as Praetzellis and Praetzellis trace in their documentary histories of each lot. The Southern Pacific railroad company introduced fill in the area as it filled in China Lake to use the land in the early twentieth century (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 274). Excavation technique All excavations conducted on the Sacramento Chinatown site were areal exposures excavated stratigraphically. The earlier project recorded observations and deposits using the feature and layer designation system (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 50), which had been abandoned by the time of the later excavation for the more effective and efficient Harris matrix system of recording (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 37, 41-42). In both projects, deposits were often cross-sectioned as a diagnostic method, and all material was screened through either 1/4-, 1/8-, or 1/16-inch mesh. For the second project, this meant wet-screening six tons of soil at the lab (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 5). For both projects, recording geomorphological data and processing and analyzing the artifacts all the way through determining crossmends within and between layers provided data necessary to accurately interpret the deposits. Curation The archaeological assemblage and associated documentation are permanently housed at the Archaeological Collections Facility of Sonoma State University, Rohnert Park, California (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 42). Contexts sampled Excavations of the HI 56 block (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997) recovered deposits of the 1850s associated with the Yu Chung Company, the Yeung-wo District Association boarding house, and the Sang Lee Company, and, in the form of the accumulated trash deposit on the shore of the slough, potentially the entire community. Excavations of the IJ56 block (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982) also recovered a deposit with some degree of a general community association, and dating prior to 1855, as well as a deposit from 1854 to 1855 associated with merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat. That the deposits are associated with narrow time ranges and historically identified portions of the community make it worth enumerating them. In this way it becomes clear how small is the archaeological sample to date. Two recovered deposits are associated with the Yu Chung Company of 513/515 I Street (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 286). The fire of July 1855 produced a deposit, layer 903, of burned remains that archaeologists find date to “probably 1848 until mid 1855” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 100, 108-109, 267, 258). Into this fire destruction layer was dug a pit, pit 953 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 100, 94-95). As the pit was sealed by alluvium from the flood of 1861 (layer 902), its contents date to 1855 through 1861, a period associated with the activities of the Yu Chung Company and its lodgers. The Yeung-wo District Association boarding house at 525/527 I Street (formerly 153/155 I Street) provided temporary lodging for people about to be frontier miners (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 59, 284-287). Archaeologists recovered one artifact bearing deposit associated with the boarding house. Pit 16 was filled with debris (lots 59, 60, 63, and 86) after the fire of 1855 and “prior to the construction of wood frame tenements on the lot” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 258). The pit itself “was probably a wood-lined well used by the Chinese occupants whose property was destroyed by the fire of July 1854” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 66, 258). After the Yeung-wo Company established water service, the well was no longer used. The pit was burned and then used as a repository for refuse from the fire (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 66-67). After the 1855 fire, Praetzellis and Praetzellis found, the Yeung-wo Company “apparently did not rebuild in Sacramento” (1997: 64-65). Afterward, a building valued at $100, which, by 1869, was followed by tenements along 6th Street, was constructed by a dressmaker turned property owner, Lucinda or Lorinda Washburn (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 65). The late deposit of pit 16 (contexts 59, 60, 89) are associated with Miss Washburn’s tenants in the late 1850s, who numbered both Chinese and European Americans (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 65, 67-68). The archaeologists note that this late deposit likely results from a household cleaning event, as the assemblage is comprised of “a large number fragments, especially ceramics,” that represent “a relatively small number of objects” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 67). Above the remarkably intact herringbone-patterned brick floor of the Sang Lee Company of 507 I Street (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 132, 143, 286) was excavated “a relatively small area of” the burned layer from 1855 (context 702, Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 138). Also associated with the Company was a filled pit (pit 719), the ceramics of which the archaeologists noted were “found either whole, semi-whole, or as multiple mending sherds,” suggesting that matched sets of ceramics were discarded directly into the pit (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 139). Finding that the pit was intruded on by a “the footings of the brick building constructed at the rear of 133 I Street after the flooding of 1861-1862,” the archaeologists conclude the contents of the pit were likely deposited “concurrent with the change of use at 133 I Street in the early 1860s,” when the arrival of the railroad coincided with the removal of many Chinese businesses from I Street between 5th and 6th to the “less desirable” neighborhood between 2nd and 5th (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 139). Archaeologists recovered from a location on the shore of China Lake that historically would have been “only seasonally exposed” portions of a deposit dating from circa 1848 until the fire of July 1855 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 102). The deposit produced a “very large collection of artifacts, dominated by domestic ceramics and food remains” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 102, photo 1997: 110). An analyst noted that by the end of the period of the deposit, the occupants of the neighborhood “were Chinese, but the remains from the earliest years were presumably left by transit immigrants of various origins” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 258). Additionally, the deposit may be mixed with the layer that overlays it, layer 993, due to “much trampling by livestock after the fire.” The other deposit with an association no less specific than an unknown portion of the area’s population was discovered on the IJ56 block. Feature 3 was the designation given to an unlined privy found on a parcel associated with “the general Chinese community” of the period up to 1855 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 156). That the recovered artifact assemblage was comprised of small objects led the archaeologists to conclude the assemblage was deposited gradually over the span of the privy’s use. Merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat lived at the rear of their stores at 144/146 I Street (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 289; Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 289). Archaeologists working on this lot uncovered a pit dug and filled “almost exclusively” with pork bones that was later cleared out and used as a disposal place for “household refuse, damaged stock, and construction debris from the previous wood/iron building” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 155). The archaeologists named the earlier pit and pit fill Feature 11, and the later pit and pit fill Feature 5 (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 155-156, 61-64, 68). Working with evidence from geomorphology, ceramic sherds that crossmend between features, and historical records allowed the researchers to date the later Feature 5 deposit to 1854-1855, which associates it with one of the Chinese merchants’ households that occupied the portion of a lot “both before and after landowner Tyron’s 1855 construction of a brick building on the lot” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 62). The archaeologists note the potential difficulty of distinguishing domestic refuse from commercial refuse when, as has been common over much of U.S. history, the place of residence and place of business are the same (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 47). These recovered deposits so far comprise the entire archaeological sample from Sacramento’s Chinatown. In addition to the small size of the sample, the recovered deposits were generated by “quite different” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 156) formation processes. Therefore, as Praetzellis and Praetzellis noted, the examined deposits should be considered “complementary and not comparable units” in analysis. Selected Results of Analysis The Sacramento excavations report a number of results where archaeology was able to characterize contexts of life in the early Chinatown through information not available in the documentary record. Analysis of fish bones recovered Chinese yellow croaker fish heads (layer 111), which would indicate the foodstuff was imported dried from China (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 159, 83). A list of food items imported from China did not record trade in dried fish until the 1870s, and this finding establishes it had already begun at least twenty years earlier, by the 1850s (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 83, citing Spier 1958: 130). Analyst Schulz (1997: 267) relays the fish bone remains in every deposit indicated the “local product was more important than the imported one,” and notes that the presence of dried Chinese yellow croaker fish heads at the site may reflect labor efforts being placed into mining rather than raising or catching local food resources (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 159). In this case, this would echo the known practice of early miners sending laundry overseas to be washed (e.g. Chinn, Lai, and Choy, 1969: 63, citing McLeod 1947: 111), and emphasizes a focus by early immigrant Californians on pouring work efforts and supporting capital into the mines. By the time of the 1854-1855 deposit associated with Chinese merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat, locally expensive Sacramento perch was being consumed (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 85). Again, while the sample is too small to make definitive statements, there is suggestive evidence of a mid-1850s change in community economics. Praetzellis and Praetzellis note recovered deposits dating to the middle 1850s lacked any remains of the dried yellow croaker, and interpret it as the result of a shift to local “Chinese fishermen [supplying] the market with local species.” Similarly, the archaeologists interpret a deposit’s plant remains to indicate “that Chinese truck gardens had also been established by this time” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 159), further documenting the rise of a diversified workforce and economic base. The assemblage recovered from the deposit on the shores of the slough further paints a picture of Gold Rush-era economics. The sample from layer 945, which dates from 1848 to 1855, was dominated by cattle bones (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 249-255). Comparison of these bones with an assemblage dating from 1870 to the 1880s from excavations in “Old Sacramento” showed that the cattle represented in the 1848 to 1855 sample were slaughtered at a much younger age — by two years of age, as opposed to the later period’s four years of age. Cattle grazing had long been established as a mainstay of the Spanish mission economy (e.g. Lightfoot 2005: 59, 86-87), and the archaeologists interpret this earlier slaughtering pattern as a response to sudden high demand due to the Gold Rush’s influx of population, where cattle from local areas, Southern California, and as far as the Midwest were sold in the Gold Rush economy, earning high profits and saving the cost of an additional year’s feed (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 251). Among the recovered deposits, the one exception to the pattern of faunal remains being predominated by beef bones was the deposit associated with Chinese merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat, where the earliest part of the deposit was a pit filled “almost exclusively” with pork bones (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 255; 1982: 155). Archaeological deposits also produced evidence revealing characteristics of the early life history of the city. For example, two shallow trenches approximately 20 feet apart and both abandoned by late 1855, were observed to be of similar size and shape, and orientation to the city block grid system, and may indicate “the edges of a land tenure unit recognized before surveyed . . . construction began” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 57, discussing Features 1 and 6). Other changes observed included a shift from constructing ephemeral structures, to investing in permanent brick buildings, and a shift from unlined to wood lined privies indicates another area of greater investment in infrastructure (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 159). In addition to increasing emphasis on building Sacramento for a long duration, a significant change is also represented in the adoption of the city grid system. Its twin tools of structuring navigation in the city and establishing a system to allow for the tracking of property ownership and easy subdivision of parcels, influenced how residents interacted with each other and with their environment, and structured the possibilities for the same. Praetzellis and Praetzellis found city ordinances and enforcement records revealed more about how some were attempting to shape the town’s appearance and population. After suffering devastating fires, Sacramento City Council set “fire limits” in its downtown, drawing boundaries within which brick construction was required (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 10; 1982: 21, 57). Searching historic documents, the archaeologists discovered the City’s newly imposed building materials ordinance which specified the use of brick in this part of town was evidently selectively enforced. While some “combustible shanties,” especially those occupied by Chinese, were dismantled by fire wardens as soon as they appeared, violations by Euro-Americans, like Martha French, were often overlooked (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 57). Selective enforcement, then, allowed what seemed to be a neutral safety measure to be used as an anti-Chinese ordinance. The archaeologists also uncovered a newspaper item revealing the strength of the association some made between Chinese persons and fire. Praetzellis and Praetzellis noted that in the early days of Sacramento, while some residents were investing in building infrastructure, others “still camped around China Lake.” Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1997: 96, quoting Sacramento Union, 5 November 1852) write that just after the fire [of 1852], a large party of Chinese were evicted from the campsite [the Sacramento Union described as being] “under the levee near H street in the immediate vicinity of a large number of frame dwellings and other combustible material.” It’s understandable for people who have experienced a major fire to worry about the occurrence of another one, and it’s expected that people would take steps for prevention. But in this case, what was removed was not a “large” amount of “combustible material,” but nearby Chinese people. The action indicates some held a view that the people themselves were potentially a sort of spark that would cause conflagration, and therefore should be removed. Ceramics recovered from the archaeological excavations provide some observations of early Sacramentans’ social worlds and worlds of commerce. Three deposits associated with Chinese Sacramentans contained fragments of British ceramics (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 289). The archaeologists noted that the deposit believed to be associated with Chinese lodgers of the Yu Chung Company, layer 903, contained the highest proportion of British ceramics of the three. It consisted mostly of “flat forms, such as plates and soup plates,” as well as a fragment of a willow patterned plate that “bears the same kind of incised Chinese character ... relatively common on Celadon vessels” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 100, 289). The deposit associated with Chinese merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat contained vessel forms not represented by the boarding house deposit, such as “an anomalous transfer printed hollow form,” a tea pot, and large basin (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 289). Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1982: 161) also wrote that bottles recovered from the deposit indicated a preference for “western liquor” over “Chinese rice ‘wine,’” a preference they find was also reflected in deposits recovered from later sites in Ventura, California, and Lovelock, Nevada. Two of the recovered deposits associated with HI56 block white working-class tenants of the late 1870s to the early 1880s contained fragments of Chinese ceramics (privy 500 and pit 83, Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 46, 68, 88). Archaeological investigations of Sacramento’s early Chinatown proceeded with the research theme of investigating the degree to which residents engaged in practices designed to evoke “ethnic display and boundary maintenance” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 24-25). The application of this research theme involved determining the country of origin for ceramics found in deposits linked to Chinese Sacramentans. Praetzellis and Praetzellis’ 1997 report anticipated extending a line of thought from the earlier research, where the Chinese and European ceramics recovered from deposits associated with Chinese merchants “show[ed] how the merchants attempted to create a traditional Chinese environment in Sacramento and used ethnicity as a tool by which to maintain and enhance their influence on both the Chinese and white communities” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 25, citing Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982). Praetzellis and Praetzellis saw the British transfer-printed hollow form vessels associated with Chinese merchants Wing Lee and Quong Fat as having been items the merchants used in making impressions on members of Sacramento’s white establishment, during interactions such as a 26-course banquet to which prominent Chinese merchants invited other Sacramento businessman and a reporter from the Sacramento Bee (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 295, 16, quoting Sacramento Bee, 7 December 1861). Praetzellis and Praetzellis open another line of inference about the Chinese merchants and Associations based on the ceramics recovered from associated deposits. The archaeologists look at historic documents indicating non-Chinese employees of the associations, such as Connecticut-born Josiah Gallup, often made purchases for their employers from San Francisco wholesalers (Praetzellis 1999; Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 282-288). Praetzellis and Praetzellis (1997: 288) ask “why should the Chinese district Associations have instructed their [non-Chinese] agents to buy tablewares for their boarding houses?” They point to a “relative heterogeneity of Chinese ceramic types from early contexts” and interpret it has “a problem with [the companies’ and associations’] supply networks,” a “temporary problem [that] forced the Chinese agents to turn to their [non-Chinese] counterparts to purchase whatever tablewares were available from [non-Chinese] wholesalers.” They hypothesize this “problem... was solved” by the late 1850s, seeing at that point an “increasing homogeneity” in the ceramics. The shift they described is seen as the achievement of a long deferred goal: they write “by 1860 the Chinese Associations’ supply conduits to California were well established and there would have been no need to go outside of it for these kinds of goods.” We have, of course, the caveat that comparison among the samples with “quite different” formation processes is highly speculative, as the deposits should not be considered “comparable units” for analysis, but instead form complimentary samples (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1982: 156). Yet such chronological comparisons are tempting, and the issues the archaeologists raise are worth examining. In discussing household ceramics, Praetzellis and Praetzellis point us to a useful topic for consideration, the social significance of purchasing decisions such as from whom does one purchase needed items in this category of goods. Household ceramics form a useful dataset for this investigation. They can come in all price ranges, and so may be selected from according to plan or to whim. While in general the consumer expects a given ceramic item to last a while, the fact that ceramics break and need to be replaced is also within all users’ experience. Ceramic goods may therefore be thought of as semi-durable and semi-consumable, and consumers may experiment in their selection of particular items for reasons including aesthetics or novelty. In assuming a heterogeneity of an assemblage of tablewares indicates failure of a particular company’s or association’s supply networks, Praetzellis and Praetzellis build on an unarticulated assumption that it was the company’s or association’s goal to conduct business by themselves importing needed goods, so as to achieve maximum profits. This business approach would echo what Sidney Mintz (1985: 66), in his study of the role of sugar in the development of capitalism, identifies as mercantilism’s goal of an economic role between a colony and an imperial power where goods, shipping, and profits move in a closed circuit to maximize profits for the colonizing power. Looking to maximize profits by owning or controlling as many as possible of the industries related to a venture has been a strategy identified by its 1990s and early 2000s corporate practitioners as vertical integration or synergy (for examples, see Klein 1999: 147-149). But working to have all components of a venture directly generate profits is just one approach to conducting business. In discussing banquets Chinese merchants of Sacramento gave for their white counterparts, Praetzellis and Praetzellis raise the importance of developing guanxi, a network of business relations and obligations. The idea of building guanxi is roughly equivalent to “networking,” with an emphasis on building working relationships that can be mutually beneficial. With this in mind, it seems there is an alternate explanation at least as likely as the idea that the ceramic assemblage from the early deposit was the result of “a problem with [the companies’ and associations’] supply networks” that “forced the Chinese agents to turn to their [non-Chinese] counterparts” (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997: 288). We may instead be looking at archaeological evidence of early Chinese Sacramentans building relations in a multi-ethnic setting. Absent further evidence, we have to hold open the possibility the early ceramic assemblage indicate business relations more focused on developing guanxi than emphasizing vertical integration. (Additional lines of inquiry are then opened up for Praetzellis and Praetzellis’ [1997: 289] observation that among the three recovered deposits mentioned above as being associated with early Chinese Sacramentans, the recovered deposit believed to be associated with Chinese lodgers of the Yu Chung Company contained the highest proportion of British ceramics.) It could also be hypothesized that a later period switch to internal supply networks reflected the post-Gold Rush environment switch from independent mining to corporate and other large capital mining, for which the San Francisco Stock Exchange Board formed in 1862 (Brechin 1999: 48-49, 34-37). While further contextual data would be needed to evaluate the accuracy of either possible explanation, the orientation to understanding these social and economic networks within which individuals acquired and used items of material culture is useful. The research theme of investigating the degree to which people living in a multi-ethnic setting engaged in practices designed to create and emphasize ethnic boundaries carries through in other archaeological excavations of California Chinatown sites. Following the discussion of data from around California, and, in Chapter 4, new data from Oakland, I return in Chapter 5 to examine this research topic. SAN JOSE CHINATOWNS History City assessment records show the first buildings of San Jose’s Market Street Chinatown, also known as the Plaza Street Chinatown, were constructed at Market and San Fernando Streets in 1866 (R. Allen et al. 2002: 16-17). Historic research has uncovered that the residents “petitioned for policemen to patrol their town,” which the authors find was “likely in an effort to protect themselves from outside hostility” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 17, citing Laffey 1993: 17). In 1870, a fire of unknown origin burned down the Market Street Chinatown. While the city block on which the Market Street was located also included non-Chinese residents, only Chinese buildings were burned. Assessment records made six months after the burning of the Market Street Chinatown show a replacement Chinatown, at Vine Street near the river, having developed 88 buildings (R. Allen et al. 2002: 64). However, the Guadalupe River’s flooding during the next two winters prompted a move back to the Market Street location. Market Street Chinatown structures were built of both brick and wood, with a tendency for buildings of each type to be clustered together. In 1887, an act of arson destroyed the second Market Street Chinatown (R. Allen et al. 2002: 1, 38). Residents left this site, and two separate Chinatowns were then constructed. Well represented in the historic record, and subject of Connie Young Yu’s 1991 history, Chinatown, San Jose, USA, was Heinlenville, a planned development designed by one of San Jose’s leading architects to be situated on the lands of fellow German immigrant John Heinlen (R. Allen et al. 2002: 64). Heinlenville stood at 6th and Taylor Streets, and its brick construction and planned street layouts are described in Yu (1991) as well as R. Allen et al. (2002: 64-67). For safety, the residents found it necessary to construct around the entire city an 8-foot-high wooden fence topped with barbed wire, and to employ a watchman (R. Allen et al. 2002: 64, 19-20). In 1888, merchants and district associations constructed a temple, Ng Shing Gung, with an altar on the second floor, and a ground floor community center and classroom (Yu 1991: 41-42, 51-52; R. Allen et al. 2002: 66). The landowner’s heirs went bankrupt in the 1930s, and with leases no longer valid the residents moved out (R. Allen et al. 2002: 67). In 1941, despite local protest, Ng Shing Gung was demolished (Yu 2001: 84, 109-110). Today the temple has been recreated as part of the Chinese History and Cultural Project, and the site of the Heinlenville Chinatown is now known as San Jose’s Japantown (R. Allen et al. 2002: 67). R. Allen et al. (2002: 21) note that at the time of Heinlenville’s establishment, in the second Ward, the area “was surrounded by many property owners, including ‘respectable’ established white neighborhoods and ‘nice’ homes.” The San Jose Daily Mercury (28 June 1887, cited in R. Allen et al. 2002: 21) publicly advocated that Chinese San Joseans instead settle in the newly forming Woolen Mills Chinatown. The Woolen Mills Chinatown was near Taylor and San Pedro Streets in “an industrial enclave” of the mill and cannery, away from the center of main town, and close to few landowners (R. Allen et al. 2002: 19, 21, 38). The town’s layout was oriented parallel to the Guadalupe River, rather than to the town grid (R. Allen et al. 2002: 73). To build the Woolen Mills Chinatown, Chinese San Joseans procured six hundred thousand bricks—two fifths of what they would initially need—from the burned Plaza Chinatown (San Jose Daily Mercury, 28 June 1887, cited in R. Allen et al. 2002: 22). Voluminous information about the town’s layout, development, and histories of the residents was uncovered by the authors from sources including census, local newspapers, and Immigration Department files produced under the Chinese Exclusion Act (R. Allen et al. 2002: 19-34, 38, 67-77, appendices A and C). Established as a planned community of 15 blocks by entrepreneurs Ng Fook, Chin Shin and others, by just 1889, 11 of the 15 blocks had been developed, including four blocks of single-story frame residences, four commercial blocks with brick facade stores on Dupont Street, and the Chinese theater and temple (R. Allen et al. 2002: 38, 83). Residents of the Woolen Mills Chinatown suffered two economic blows around the turn-of-the-century. A major employer, Chin Shin’s Garden City Cannery, relocated to Portland, Oregon (R. Allen et al. 2002: 229; Chinn 1999). A major employer and white European-American advocate of the community, the owner of the Woolen Mills, Robert F. Peckham, died in 1896 (R. Allen et al. 2002: 32). Simultaneously, the wool processing industry suffered, as low wool prices and fencing of land for farming drove sheep raising down to the Santa Clara Valley, forcing the mill to have to pay shipping costs for raw material. By the turn of the century, residential development and the local commercial district had taken a hit, and the San Jose Woolen Mill would finally have to close in 1910 (R. Allen et al. 2002: 38, 32). In 1902, the Woolen Mills Chinatown was destroyed by fire (R. Allen et al. 2002: 32). Some residents moved to other Chinatowns in California, while others joined the Heinlenville community, which had a more diversified economic base (R. Allen et al. 2002: 32, 29). Archaeological Project Area, Modern Context, and Significant Depositional Events Of San Jose’s three historic Chinatowns, the Woolen Mills Chinatown has so far received the most extensive archaeological investigation and reporting. The bulk of this section therefore focuses on archaeological research into the Woolen Mills Chinatown. Archaeology of the Market Street Chinatown and the Heinlenville Chinatown is briefly discussed at the end. The Woolen Mills Chinatown was destroyed by fire in 1902 (R. Allen et al. 2002: 32-33). The area kept its industrial character, and after the 1920s transitioned to residential and agricultural uses. R. Allen et al. (2002: 32-34) report the residential neighborhood “remained intact” until about 1966, when the neighborhood was leveled for construction of a “temporary expressway” as part of the Guadalupe Expressway project. In 1989, a Historic Properties Survey Report for the area was prepared by Basin Research Associates, and, in 1997, at the request of the California Department of Transportation’s Office of Cultural Resource Studies (Caltrans), was revised from its previous conclusion that the area lacked prehistoric and historic archaeological resources to reflect additional data (R. Allen et al. 2002: 3, citing Busby and Tannam 1997, Anastasio et al. 1989). Additional study by Caltrans determined the Woolen Mills Chinatown site, CA-SCL-807H, was potentially eligible for the National Register (R. Allen et al. 2002: 4, citing Hylkema 1998). In 1998, Army Corps of Engineers’ work included “excavation of an access road” into an area of the site, “despite excavation prohibitions stipulated by Caltrans” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 4). Basin Research Associates collected two boxes of artifacts and prepared a report of the event, estimating that 50 cubic yards of soil were disturbed (R. Allen et al. 2002: 52, 1, 14, 4, citing Busby 1998). Archaeologists estimate this disturbance “may have destroyed what remained of [a] cooking feature” in a portion of the Woolen Mills site (R. Allen et al. 2002: 114). In 1999, R. Allen et al. excavated portions of the Woolen Mills Chinatown site according to the 1999 historic properties treatment plan for the upgrade of the Guadalupe Parkway (R. Allen et al. 2002: 4, citing R. Allen et al. 1999). The archaeologists found the remains of the Chinatown anywhere from 1.5 to 4 feet below the modern ground surface (R. Allen et al. 2002: 1, 46). Excavation Technique Archaeologists conducted areal excavations of locations that extensive documentary research (R. Allen et al. 1999) identified as likely to contain legally-significant archaeological remains (R. Allen et al. 2002: 43-46). Although the authors sometimes refer to the excavated areas as “trenches” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 51), the field methods involved using a backhoe to scrape off introduced fill and expose wide areas for examination (R. Allen et al. 2002: 49, 51). R. Allen et al. (2002: 45, 124) report data were recorded using the Harris matrix system and specific guidelines, given in Medin (1999), which were developed from those used in the Oakland Cypress Freeway Replacement excavation (McIlroy et al. 1995), and Los Angeles Metropolitan Water District headquarters project (Costello et al. 1998). Archaeological features were documented on field recording forms reported to have been developed by the Department of Urban Archaeology at the Museum of London and further refined by Sonoma State University (R. Allen et al. 2002: 48, citing Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1993; McIlroy et al. 1995). To enable macrobotanical analysis, archaeologists took from each encountered layer a two-quart soil sample for flotation, as deemed appropriate by a specialist (R. Allen et al. 2002: 46). Excavated soils were screened through 1/4-inch mesh, with deposits found to have high integrity and high interpretive potential wetscreened through 1/8-inch mesh (R. Allen et al. 2002: 46). In the lab, collected artifacts were cleaned, stabilized, and cataloged according to practices articulated in the Cypress Replacement Project “How To” Manual by McIlroy et al. (1995) and the University of Nevada’s 1995 field school manual, with Baxter (1999) also compiling a lab manual specific to the site. To allow accurate understanding of the artifacts and deposits, the assemblages were analyzed from crossmends within and between layers (R. Allen et al. 2002: 55-56, 137, 165). Recovered artifacts were also analyzed to determine the minimum number of individuals, or MNI, as detailed in Costello et al. (1998: 35-36; R. Allen et al. 2002: 59). Members of the public were allowed to come on-site and take a tour of the excavation, and it’s reported that the field director encouraged the crew to talk with interested visitors (R. Allen et al. 2002: 191). In fact, due to substantial interest, the archaeologists reported, each week approximately twenty staff hours were devoted to site tours. Additionally, an opportunity was offered where members of the public could volunteer to excavate in the town dump deposit (see also Medin et al. 1999). Curation Artifacts are curated at History San Jose facilities, where they are available to researchers (R. Allen et al. 2002: 61). Contexts Sampled Archaeological sampling of the Woolen Mills Chinatown site recovered a great deal of data relating to the infrastructure of the planned town. These included the redwood-lined drains and ceramic pipes of a sewer system, a fire hydrant system, and gravel streets (Baxter and R. Allen 2002: 390, R. Allen et al. 2002: 42, 90, 89, 40, 82, 39, 50-51). Also discovered was a “circular brick firebox” with an internal diameter of 2 feet, the location of which coincided with a “roasting kettle,” according to the 1891 Sanborn map (Schulz 2000: 2). The feature is thought to have been part of a communal wok, as it would have been located “behind a house and along the river bank.” From this feature was excavated 4.5 cubic feet of soil. Noting the “vast majority” of the bones recovered from this feature were not burned, and that the layers of soil, while ashy, were not consistent with primary deposit ash, Schulz concludes the fill of this feature was placed there after the feature’s abandonment. The excavation sample also found “almost a complete absence of backyard trash pits” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 202), the exceptions being one shallow sloping pit 6.5-inch deep at its maximum, and one sheet refuse deposit (R. Allen et al. 2002: 127-128). Both were at the rear of lots on Dupont Street, and both contained few artifacts. Trash disposal was instead handled through a community town dump at the end of Taylor Street, near the riverside (R. Allen et al. 2002: 122-126, on discovery: 49, 52, 55, 125-126). With the dump having only been in use for thirteen years, the authors note the potential of artifacts recovered from it to provide information about patterns of life in a community over a relatively short period of time (R. Allen et al. 2002: 39, 151). From this refuse deposit stratigraphic excavations removed 304 cubic feet of soil (about 190 gallons), all of which, like the soil from the “roasting kettle,” was wet-screened through 1/8-inch mesh (Schulz 2000: 2). Selected Results of Analysis In March 1887, the San Jose City Council followed its string of ordinances meant to disproportionately affect Chinese, such as rules against using a shoulder pole to carry baskets, with an order declaring the Chinatown to be a “public nuisance” (Yu 2001: 28-30, citing City Council Order of March 25, 1887). The previous March, the San Jose Evening News (11 March 1886, quoted in Yu 2001: 28), in an article entitled “John will go,” had noted “the removal of Chinatown outside [the downtown] district would add 25% to the value of all that property immediately.” Now, within two months of the City Councils’ resolution, the Market Street Chinatown was destroyed in a fire which the San Jose Evening News (5 May 1887, quoted in Yu 2001: 30) said was “no doubt...of an incendiary origin.” The paper’s attitude towards the arson can be gauged by its editorializing soon after, when it referred to San Jose’s Chinese and Chinese Americans as a “terrible incubus in our midst” (26 July 1887, quoted in R. Allen et al. 2002: 18). Neither did City officials decrease anti-Chinese statements following the arson. Mayor Breyfogle’s annual message of 1888 included the statement “we have a right to be proud, gentlemen, of the fact...[of] the eradication of Chinatown which had for twenty years depreciated the value of the neighboring property...” (Daily Evening News, 17 April 1888, quoted in R. Allen et al. 2002: 18; also in Baxter and R. Allen 2002: 384). Some idea of Breyfogle’s social and economic networks is gained from learning what other ventures he was involved in: Yu (2001: 29) notes that after serving as mayor of San Jose, Breyfogle went on to found the San Jose Building and Loan Association, and served as president of the Garden City National Bank. Contemporary newspaper reports offer additional indications of the potential value of further research into the life histories of Chinatowns. Of the origin and eradication of the Market Street Chinatown, the San Jose Evening News reported that the actual property owners were a number of prominent non-Chinese San Joseans, and reported rumors that the property owners for the last two weeks “had been adding heavily to their fire insurance” (Yu 2001: 30, citing the Evening News, 5 May 1887). Historian Connie Young Yu (2001: 30, 38) notes that within ten days of the arson of the Market Street Chinatown, eleven Chinese, themselves barred from owning land, signed an agreement with former farmer John Heinlen to lease land at 5th and Taylor Streets, each placing a $300 deposit to support formation of a new Chinatown. Yu (2001: 34-36) has detailed some of the harassments to which John Heinlen and his family were subjected following Heinlen’s application to the city council for the permits to create the Heinlenville Chinatown. Historical documents and archaeological data reveal the social and economic complexity of the creation of the Woolen Mills Chinatown, and demonstrate how even basic infrastructure can play a role in creations of social identities. Following announcement of the construction of the Woolen Mills Chinatown, an advertisement appeared in the San Jose Daily Mercury (22 June 1887, quoted in R. Allen et al. 2002: 22) announcing those opposed to the Chinatown should come to a “indignation mass meeting” in front of the courthouse. Peter O’Connor had sold a portion of his tract to Woolen Mills Chinatown landowner Louis M. Hoefler, and afterward objected “no mention of the Chinatown was made.” The archaeologists found that “in response, O’Connor had built a nine foot tall fence separating his remaining property from view of the Chinatown” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 22, citing San Jose Daily Mercury, 25 June 1887). For its part, the San Jose Daily Mercury newspaper favorably noted it would be at least 300 feet between any building of the Woolen Mills Chinatown and the closest thoroughfare, San Pedro Street, from which “Chinatown will not be visible” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 22, quoting San Jose Daily Mercury, 20 June 1887). It was more than once suggested that the residents of the Heinlenville Chinatown ought to be moved out of sight of the main town, to the Woolen Mills location (R. Allen et al. 2002: 21-22; Baxter and R. Allen 2002: 385). On June 25, 1887, the San Jose Daily Mercury reported that it had been informed by City Councilman Dunlop that at the following City council meeting he would offer a resolution to try to kill the Woolen Mills Chinatown development by laying on “aggravating” costs (R. Allen et al. 2002: 88). One such cost would be to require the Chinatown leasees, at their own expense, to lay full sewer infrastructure between the main sewer, nearly 1000 feet away, and all houses. R. Allen et al. found that while the mayor of San Jose declared the resolution to be out of order, by October 1887, the city engineer was instructed to prepare specifications for such a sewer (R. Allen et al. 2002: 88, citing City Council Minutes 1887: 490), and “a deputy was appointed to notify the property owners that they were to connect with the sewer” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 88, citing City Council Minutes 1887: 544-546). Similar ordinances would not be seen for other parts of San Jose until 1890, and it wasn’t until 1896 that the city-wide sewer and wastewater system was completed (R. Allen et al. 2002: 90, 86, also 87-89). Water was not supplied by the City, but obtained from artesian wells (R. Allen et al. 2002: 102, 86). The archaeologists found no evidence that water was piped inside residences, and note the Sanborn maps indicate toilets housed in small structures in the backyards, likely flushed by hand using buckets of water (R. Allen et al. 2002: 102). During the 1887 fire that destroyed the Market Street Chinatown, fire fighters at the scene had found they had “poor hose” and too “low water pressure” (Yu 2001: 29-30, quoting San Jose Evening News, 5 May 1887). Yu reports that afterwards it was discovered that the firefighters’ water tank “for the first time” had not been filled and was nearly empty, raising the likelihood that someone drained the tank. Looking at the 1889 and 1891 Sanborn maps, R. Allen et al. (2002: 91-93) found the Woolen Mills Chinatown had made firefighting preparations, constructing numerous hydrants fed by artesian wells. Additionally, the archaeologists discovered numerous elements of the cast-iron hydrant pipe system that had not been documented. While at this period in history, disposing of refuse in backyard trash pits was “generally so common in urban settings,” excavations of the Woolen Mills Chinatown showed “almost a complete absence” of any indications of this practice (R. Allen et al. 2002: 202). Instead, the Woolen Mills Chinatown organized a community waste disposal system, disposing of refuse in a communal “town dump” at the foot of Taylor Street, ahead of any such sanitary development by the City of San Jose (Baxter and R. Allen 2002: 311-312). The archaeology provides evidence in direct contradiction to the then-common allegations that Chinese San Joseans were less sanitary than others. Artifacts recovered from the town dump provide some general impressions of how community members chose and interacted with material culture and foodstuffs. The archaeologists found that overall, the artifacts did not reflect the residents making large investments in material culture (R. Allen et al. 2002: 185). Ceramic remains were mostly of the type Sando and Felton’s 1993 study of inventory records from a nineteenth century Chinese store in Marysville, California, found to be the less expensive variety (R. Allen et al. 2002: 185, 136). While the archaeologists caution it’s unknown whether this result should be attributed to dietary preference, or better site preservation, more variety of fish remains were found than have been recovered on the other archaeological sites related to Chinese Californians (R. Allen et al. 2002: 185). And while artifacts recovered from the town dump do not reflect residents making high investment in consumable material culture, other evidence demonstrates more than the basics of subsistence were attended to. Archaeologists found fragments of writing slate tablets and graphite, along with a brush fragment with green paint, and cobalt pigment (R. Allen et al. 2002: 133). Calligraphy or other brush work is suggested, though the archaeologists caution “the evidence [is] too fragmentary for further discussion.” One of the prominent stereotypes of Chinese Californians was that they were mere sojourners, clannish, unassimilable foreigners extracting from the local economy jobs and other financial resources, and returning nothing. In fact, the owner of the Woolen Mills found himself having to testify against this perception in an 1876-77 Senate hearing (R. Allen et al. 2002: 202). One of the ways in which the archaeology of the Woolen Mills Chinatown site refutes the stereotype is by demonstrating some of the ways in which Woolen Mills Chinatown residents were interconnected with the local and wider economies. The archaeologists found British ceramics, which they note “have been found on every urban Chinese site excavated in California” (R. Allen et al. 2002: 139, 148, citing Felton, Lortie, and Schulz 1984: 52-30; Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997; Costello et al. 1999). The town dump deposit also produced remains from commercial food products of English, national, and local origin: Mason, Ball, and other brand home canning jars and lids; bottles of Tabasco Sauce, Heinz sauce, Bass Ale, Guinness Stout; bottles from locally produced soda water; and a local milk pint jar (Baxter and R. Allen 2002: 393-394; R. Allen et al. 2002: 141-142, 150-151). Market Street Chinatown A century after the destruction of the Market Street Chinatown, its site was redeveloped for a project that included construction of the Fairmont Hotel and the Silicon Valley Financial Center (Voss 2002-05). An archaeological contracting firm conducting monitoring of the site noted the existence of 25 features and collected nearly 18,000 artifacts during monitoring in 1985 and 1986 (R. Allen et al. 2002: 39, 108, citing Roop 1988; Voss 2002-05). News of these archaeological remains led to the formation of the Chinese History and Cultural Project (Chan and Beasley 2005: 88-89). Although as recently as 2002, archaeologists wrote that the deposits and artifacts “have never been analyzed” (Greenwood 1993: 376-377; R. Allen et al. 2002: 39), the collection was recently retrieved from storage and taken to Stanford University, where the Market Street Chinatown Archaeological Project is currently working to catalog, analyzed, and curate the collection in a manner that will allow it to be used for research and education (Chinese Historical and Cultural Project 2005a; Voss 2002-05). The few artifacts which the Chinese History and Cultural Project already has on display in its reconstructed temple are tantalizing. While the San Jose Evening News (20 June 1887, quoted in R. Allen et al. 2002: 40) had described the Market Street neighborhood has “a nuisance and eyesore to this community,” recovered artifacts include a delicate and ornate glass-like ornament representing a peach and the legendary monkey character. The cataloging and analysis of the full assemblage is looked forward to for the further data it can bring to bear on the contradiction between historical allegations and archaeological evidence. Heinlenville Chinatown It’s recently been determined that the site of the Heinlenville Chinatown will be redeveloped, and the City and community members look forward to an archaeological excavation in 2006 or 2007 (Chinese Historical and Cultural Project 2005b). LOS ANGELES CHINATOWNS History Archaeologist Greenwood (1996) records the development between 1860 and 1930 of two Chinatown areas in the core of the city, the Plaza area of Pueblo de Los Angeles. The earliest Chinatown neighborhood was formed adjacent to and immediately south of the Plaza, and this was joined in the 1880s by an expansion across nearby Alameda Street. The federal census enumerations provide an outline of community growth. Los Angeles Chinatown’s population was recorded at 172 in 1870 and in 1880 had jumped to 605 (Costello et al. 1999: 208). In 1890, the census recorded two thousand residents, and the population did not dip below that number until the 1930s, when the Chinatown was demolished to make way for the Union Station railroad passenger facility (Costello et al. 1999: 208; Greenwood 1996: 137). The earliest Los Angeles Chinatown, and, from the 1860s to the 1880s, what’s thought to be the city’s only Chinatown, developed in an area 50 feet wide that ran between the Plaza and old Arcadia and Aliso Streets, and extended south of the Plaza at least one block (Costello et al. 1999: 1; Greenwood 1996: 10; see also photo in Smith 2001: 9-10). Formerly a neighborhood of Mexican Americans, its name Calle de Negros was Anglicized to Negro Alley. Today Negro Alley is under Los Angeles Street, which has actually been its official name since 1877 (Greenwood 1996: 10; Costello et al. 1999: 51). Greenwood notes that throughout the 1870s, this area was a multiethnic neighborhood, with the block between the Plaza and Alameda Street having been settled by well-known pioneer Hispanic families (Greenwood 1996: 10). The Spanish colonial and Mexican periods of Los Angeles left imprints on the infrastructure of the city: the very streets around the Plaza were irregular as they jogged around to accommodate existing adobes and the Zanja Madre, a channel that ran parallel to Alameda street. The property to the east of Alameda Street was owned by a native of Chile, Juan Apablasa (also known as Apablaza), who had immigrated prior to 1848 (Costello et al. 1999: 40). He died in 1863, leaving his property to his son. After the son’s death, the widow remarried and moved, and the family leased the property to Chinese Angelenos, who expanded the old Chinatown eastward, to the east side of Alameda Street (Costello et al. 1999: 40, Greenwood 1996: 8-9, 16). A major economic activity engaged in by residents of the Chinatown was wholesale and retail produce dealing (Costello et al. 1999: 208; Greenwood 1996: 24). Wholesale dealers would coordinate with outlying farms, and door-to-door retailers known as vegetable peddlers would daily offer fresh produce to homes. Chinese Angelenos who worked in the vegetable trade were organized early on. In 1880, the Anaheim Weekly Gazette (31 July 1880, quoted in Lawton 1987b: 72) reported that the vegetable peddlers were going on strike in protest of the discriminatory levying against them of license fees in the amount of $400 to $500 per license. It seems a plan of the vegetable peddlers to take the matter to court proved unnecessary: their strike was successful. Mason’s 1976 community history relays that in 1886 and 1887 fires struck the old Negro Alley section of town, and notes arson was thought to be the cause (Smith 2001: 24; Greenwood 1996: 11). After the second fire, a Los Angeles Times article referred to a “withdrawal of insurance from the Chinese quarters” and anticipated that “Chinatown will be removed very shortly” (10 August 1887, quoted in Greenwood 1996: 11-12). In addition to the first Chinatown location immediately south of the Plaza, a second Chinatown began to develop to the east of the first, on the east side of Alameda Street. Greenwood reports the Los Angeles area’s shortage of wood contributed to a shift to constructing brick buildings, and describes in detail physical changes of the street infrastructure that accompanied and fostered the creation of the new Chinatown on the east side of Alameda Street (Greenwood 1996: 10-13, 16, 48). By the time of the 1888 Sanborn map, the second Chinatown center had grown at least as expansive as the first location immediately around the Plaza, and the map also identified “Chinese quarters” immediately north of the Plaza. Research has provided detail of the context around and development of the Chinatown areas. The area along Alameda Street between the two loci of Chinatown, Greenwood (1996:20) writes, was used by European immigrant and non-Chinese American “prostitutes who plied their trade in single story cubicles.” Adjacent to and to the south of the second Chinatown location, a pipe manufacturer, fruit company, vineyard, and winery and distillery took advantage of a spur of the Southern Pacific railroad, “enticed” Greenwood notes, by “City and County subsidies” (Greenwood 1996: 6). Other immediate surroundings included stables, hotels, the City water company, “colored tenements” near North Main and Macy Streets, and additional distilleries. The poultry yard in the Los Angeles orphan asylum at North Alameda and Macy Streets was positioned between the asylum and the nearest “Chinese quarters.” The move of the orphanage in 1890 may have been encouraged by the coming of the railroad, though the orphanage’s Sister Mary Scholastica Logsdon had “lamented [the growing numbers of Chinese] posed a ‘more objectionable feature’” (Greenwood 1996: 8, quoting Engh 1991). In contrast, the greater Chinatown community did not express a racial exclusivity. Multiple non-Chinese households in Chinatown were recorded in the census of 1900 and a survey of 1914, including Japanese, Mexican, Korean, Cuban, Armenian, “Chinese and American,” German, and Irish immigrant households (Greenwood 1996: 20). At least one 1910s shop was home to a Chinese Californian and his white wife (Costello et al. 1999: 52). Finally, additional demographic evidence counters another stereotype: investigation of an area that had hosted male boarding houses populated by non-Chinese working men demonstrated that working men living together in single sex households was not a practice exclusive to the Chinese (Costello et al. 1999: 298). By the mid 1890s, the fruit processing buildings surrounding the railway spur from Alameda Street were gone (Costello et al. 1999: 43, citing Sanborn 1894). The lands instead had been turned over to be “occupied by the brick cribs of prostitutes.” This was, the archaeologists report, “a much more lucrative enterprise for landowners.” In the early 1900s, further development of the vegetable selling trade influenced a shift in land-use economics. The occupation of vegetable selling, which had begun in the 1870s, grew substantially in the first decade of the 20th century, with the number of federal census respondents identified as Chinese and listing “vegetable peddler” as their occupation having almost doubled, from 21 to 41 percent (Greenwood 1996: 24; Costello et al. 1999: 208, 219). The census reported all the vegetable sellers spoke English and, if not having been born in the United States, had been in the U.S. for many years, the length of time for each quantified in the 1910 census as between 17 and 35 years (Costello et al. 1999: 219, 234). In 1904, Los Angeles’s crib district was closed (Costello et al. 1999: 220, 50, citing Los Angeles Daily Times, 20 December 1904). The landowners, the Shafers, demolished the cribs, and began entering into lease agreements with Chinese vegetable sellers. The agreements gave the Chinese entrepreneurs the right to build on leased land, with the agreement stipulating this size of the buildings and that the construction be of brick (Costello et al. 1999: 220; citing Los Angeles County leases, book 43: various pages). In contrast to previous times, when “the vegetable selling establishments...[grew] organically as a series of additions,” the leasees constructed the new complexes “as integrated warehouses and stables,” which were serviced by a nearby blacksmith shop. Change was rapid: while no vegetable sellers’ yards were depicted on the 1888 Sanborn map, by 1906, two vegetable selling complexes were completed, and by 1910 these had grown to as many as 10 or 12 (Costello et al. 1999: 220, 232). Costello et al. found that by about 1910, “more than half of Chinatown’s acreage” was devoted to warehouses, stables, and residences of the vegetable sellers (Costello et al. 1999: 208, 230-231). A profile of the early vegetable selling industry upon which the archaeologists draw (Costello et al. 1999: 218-222) has been provided by the historical research of Yee and Yee (1986). Proposals for “vacating” the Chinatown had been floated in 1913, but were not carried through until the 1930s (Greenwood 1996: 35-40). Greenwood (1996: 36) notes the 1913 Supreme Court decision in support of the Chinatown as occupying land “to be vacated,” in the words of the Los Angeles Public Works Commission Report of July 19, 1913, may have encouraged Chinatown’s residents to relocate. She found that by the 1930s people had begun to move away, so that by the time of demolition Chinatown’s population had decreased from its previous high estimated by contemporary newspapers as “anywhere from five to fifteen thousand inhabitants” (Greenwood 1996: 37). Demolition of the Chinatown came about after a struggle between some of the land-owning families and the railroad companies (Greenwood 1996: 435-436, Costello et al. 1999: 48-51). In 1931, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the railroad companies, clearing the way for land of the Chinatown to be redeveloped as Union Station. Smith (2001: 35) notes the economic hardship of the dislocation, which occurred during the Great Depression. Contemporary observers reported that “some old timers held out even after their water and power were cut off” (Bingham 1942: 133, quoted in Greenwood 1996: 38). Demolition occurred in 1933 (Costello et al. 1999: 51, Greenwood 1996: 2; Smith 2001: 74). Community members developed two replacements. China City, a “self-consciously ethnic” quarter, opened in 1939 in the area between Ord, North Spring, Macy, and North Main (Greenwood 1996: 40). It was later destroyed by fire, but its layout is indicated in a 1981 memory map (Smith 2001: 65-66). A few blocks northwest of the original Chinatown location, Peter Soo Hoo, an engineer with the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, found some vacant railroad land for sale, and he and a group of 28 other Chinese Americans formed a corporation to develop a new Chinatown (Costello et al. 1999: 51; Greenwood 1996: 38). It opened in 1935. These two developments, Greenwood notes, eventually “merged into what is now called Chinatown,” creating a community that continues to thrive (1996: 38; Costello et al. 1999: 51). And today, the Los Angeles Metropolitan area city Monterey Park is the city whose population has the highest percentage of Chinese and Chinese American residents of anywhere in United States—44.6%, according to the 2000 census (Chinese Historical Society of America 2005)—a significant example of the later pattern of development between the Chinatowns of large urban centers and their satellite areas (Chow 1974; see also Greenwood 1996: 144-145). At the site of the original Chinatown, two of the buildings historically used by the Chinese community are today part of El Pueblo Monument (National Park Service 2004). In 1890, French immigrant and businessman Garnier had built the building that bears his name, leasing it to Chinese American merchants just prior to its completion. With leading fraternal and social organizations, schools, and religious institutions on a second floor, above one and half levels of commercial space, the Garnier Building was considered the unofficial “City Hall” of Chinatown. In the late 1940s the state of California took over the building, and about a third of it was demolished to make room for a highway (National Park Service 2004; Mak and Wong 2005). In 1972, the building was listed in the National Register of Historic Places, as part of the Los Angeles Plaza Historic District. In 2003, the Chinese American Museum opened in the newly renovated Garnier Building and its historic neighbor at 425 North Los Angeles Street. Archaeological Project Area, Modern Context, and Significant Depositional Events Two archaeological projects have investigated deposits relating to the second Los Angeles Chinatown site. In 1987, construction of a portion of the Los Angeles Rail Rapid Transit Project revealed historic artifacts related to the Chinatown, launching archaeological excavations conducted just ahead of and during construction (Greenwood 1996: 3). The archaeological project area consisted of four loci around the Union passenger terminal (Greenwood 1996: 41-42, 50): the intersection of the main passenger tunnel and metro rail station (locus 2); the station’s emergency exit 10 (locus 3, Greenwood 1996: 56); an area under a temporary passenger bridge (locus 1, Greenwood 1996: 44); and the end of the station’s west entrance (locus 4, Greenwood 1996: 58; see also 1925 Sanborn map in Costello et al. 1999: 233). The Union Station block was designated archaeological site CA-LAN-1575-H (Greenwood 1996: 3). A second compliance-oriented archaeological project was conducted prior to construction of the new headquarters facility of the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California (Costello et al. 1999: 1; 1998). On the south side of Union Station, this area also included a sample of the vegetable sellers’ compounds and non-Chinatown areas. The depositional history of the site and its modern context were thought to have erased remains of the Chinatown, but in fact created a sealed cultural horizon. Greenwood (1996: 4) writes the second Los Angeles Chinatown site was created in the 1880s on land which previously had no U.S.-period occupation, and was “continuously occupied until its destruction in 1934 for the construction of Union Station.” The cultural horizon was then buried by as much as 17 to 18 feet of fill brought in from Fort Moore Hill, and over the site ran active railroad tracks (Greenwood 1996: 41, 139, citing Los Angeles Times, 23 December 1993). A pair of photos in Greenwood (1996: 138) show the Chinatown area immediately before demolition, and following demolition and filling, and the contrast is dramatic. Yet archaeological fieldwork “successfully relocated deposits, structures, and roads that had been considered destroyed” (Greenwood 1996: 66). Significant archaeological deposits were even discovered underneath the Union Station building itself. These included “an intact Chinese deposit underneath the elevator shaft inside the station and another within the baggage handling area” (Greenwood 1996: 3). Excavation Technique In the original archaeological sampling of the site, multiple discovery methods were used. Shovel test pits were dug .5 meters in diameter, between .7 and 1.2 meters in depth, and sometimes augmented by auger borings (Greenwood 1996: 43). Hand-excavated units of 1x1 meters square provided “the primary means of excavation to yield evidence of chronology,” and deposits were designated with the feature naming system. All recovered soil was dry screened through 1/4-inch mesh. Early archaeological monitoring also collected diagnostic artifacts from disturbed upper soils, which the archaeologists noted helped predict the location of subsurface features, when correlated with historical maps. With the heavy construction schedule already underway, Greenwood notes, the archaeological investigations were tightly “conditioned in both time and space by windows of opportunity” (Greenwood 1996: 3). The second archaeological sampling of this site, conducted after Greenwood’s work had established it as an intact and significant site, was conducted by Costello et al. (1998, 1999) prior to the commencement of construction. Excavation was stratigraphic, recorded with the Harris matrix system, and proceeded according to the guidelines developed for Cypress Freeway Replacement Project (McIlroy et al 1995) and additional guidelines tailored to the Los Angeles Metropolitan Water District headquarters project (Costello et al. 1998). The specifics of the excavation and lab methods are discussed in the section detailing excavation technique used for San Jose’s Woolen Mills Chinatown site. Curation Artifacts from the original archaeological sampling are curated in the collection of the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California, and an online searchable database provides access to photographs and other information descriptive of more than 1000 objects from the excavations (Chinese Historical Society of Southern California n.d.). Contexts Sampled In the first archaeological sampling of the site, investigation of four loci uncovered and sampled “59 distinct features ... many [of which] contained unprecedented numbers and densities of artifacts” (Greenwood 1996: 3). Of the 59 identified cultural deposits, more narrowly dated associations than the range of occupation for the site, 1880s to 1933, are not usually given. A table (Greenwood 1996: 47) provides date ranges for four material classes of artifacts—specifically, electrical, ceramic, coins, glass—recovered in each feature. This range can be rather broad; for example, the date ranges of the artifact classes recovered from Feature 29 are 1894-1911, 1905-1931, 1876-1905, and 1907-1925. Features summaries (Greenwood 1996: 66, 3) provide an idea of the diversity of objects recovered, such as figurines, jewelry, toys, ivory toothbrushes, and a wide range of household ceramics. Locus 1 sampled an area that on historic maps would correspond “most closely to the group of structures at the southeast corner of the block fronting Apablasa Street and east of Benjamin Street,” as shown on the excavation map in Greenwood (1996: 44, see also 44-50). Fifteen features were recovered, dating generally from 1880s to end of occupation in 1930s, including a Chinese Mission organized in 1896, a store, at least one dwelling, and other structures (Greenwood 1996: 48). Locus 2 included an area that would have been at the east end of Apablasa Street and the former Concha Street (Greenwood 1996: 50). From this area archaeologists recovered twenty-one features, including trash deposits and architectural features. These were thought to be potentially related to “the isolated dwelling shown on the 1889 map” (Greenwood 1996: 50, 54), possibly the Chinese Hospital, which itself was replaced in 1900 by a brick store (Greenwood 1996: 54-55). Also recovered were a number of features thought to be associated with the vegetable peddlers’ wagon shed and other structures, possibly relating to the later period of occupation, as indicated by the 1925-33 Sanborn maps (Greenwood 1996: 54-55). The deposit with the largest amount and densest concentration of artifacts was a trash pit discovered in locus 2 (Feature 29, Greenwood 1996: 53, 55). U.S. coins recovered from this deposit ranged in date from 1876 to 1905, and artifacts were of a wide array, including ceramics that would be used at table, toothbrushes, figurines, Chinese medicine vials, and candlesticks and incense burners. Different aspects of the archaeological evidence allowed Greenwood (1996: 55, see also 53) to further characterize what went into forming this trash pit: From the stratigraphy, density, precisely vertical walls and square corners, evidence of burning [of trash discarded in the pit, or burned items being disposed into it], and dateable artifacts, this massive deposit appears to represent the infilling of a basement or storage cellar associated with one of the early buildings, before the area was paved over during construction of the warehouses. Two historically identified structures are identified as possible sources of the deposit. It’s unclear whether property tax assessments are unable to provide construction dates that might aid in more closely identifying probable sources and dates of the deposit. Locus 3 referred to an area that would have been at the north end of Juan Street, as depicted on Greenwood’s map (1996: 55-56). Deposits discovered during monitoring were in an area not historically known to have had any structures, and which would have been “outside and north of an historical fenceline” (Greenwood 1996: 55). The authors note “only a very limited area was briefly available for investigation” (Greenwood 1996: 57), yet despite the limited time, five refuse deposits were recovered. The contents of the deposits appear to date between 1900 and 1920, and included demolished structural remains thought to relate to the 1930s razing of the Chinatown (Greenwood 1996: 55-58). Locus 4 included an area that was between Juan and Benjamin Streets, and north of a “contiguous row of structures on the north side of Apablasa Street” (58). The excavated areas are delineated on a map in Greenwood (1996: 58). The sampled area had been depicted on the 1889 Sanborn map as residential mixed with businesses, but by 1925, when “the entire block...was occupied by the produce market and tenements” (Greenwood 1996: 66), previous structures had been replaced by a structure labeled “Vegetable Men’s Storage” (Greenwood 1996: 58-66; also annotated 1925 Sanborn map in Costello et al. 1999: 233). The archaeological work recovered 16 features, including architectural remains, paved surfaces, two privies, an asphalt pavement, and two refuse deposits. The privies are thought to be associated with the “Vegetable Men’s Storage” area, and two features of burned structural remains are thought to have been burned “either accidentally or deliberately to clear land for new construction” (Greenwood 1996: 66). The two refuse deposits are dated, respectively, to 1903 to 1911, and 1910 to 1920, and Greenwood writes (1996: 66) they are thought to have been deposited by “different populations.” In the second archaeological sampling, archaeologists recovered 20 features meeting the criteria for legal significance (Costello et al. 1999: 72, see also map 1999: 226). The majority of recovered remains were associated with non-Chinese residents, as delineated in a table of “important refuse deposits by association and chronology” (Costello et al. 1999: 11, also 73, 89, 66-67). Only four artifact-bearing deposits were associated with the Chinese residents. Two of the four recovered deposits were two privies, privy 612 and privy 614, excavated in the area that had been a vegetable sellers’ compound (Costello et al. 1999: 220). In the 1900 census, the vegetable sellers’ compound was noted as being home to 24 men. Established by 1899, the compound was “enlarged substantially” in 1904, and operated until 1919 (Costello et al. 1998: iv; see also map 1999: 232). The privies appear to have been filled around 1919, when the vegetable selling facility was abandoned (Costello et al. 1999: 81-83). The two privies, the authors note, were among those inspected in 1915 by the California Commission of Immigration and Housing (Costello et al. 1999: 221, quoting Commission on Immigration and Housing of California 1916: 264). While the Commission reported eight “privy vaults were found and five of these were nothing but holes in the ground with a board frame,” archaeology shows both of the privies recovered on the lot were lined. Privy 614, likely built by 1899, was lined with “corrugated iron braced by vertical wooden slats” (Costello et al. 1999: 82), while privy 612, which the authors estimate was built soon after production of the 1906 Sanborn map, was lined with vertical redwood planks (Costello et al. 1999: 81-82). Also associated with this vegetable sellers’ compound was a pit constructed and filled at one episode, pit 622, which the authors find was probably constructed “to dispense with items cleaned out of the Chinese workers’ living quarters when the buildings were abandoned” in 1919 (Costello et al. 1999: 84). The pit contained remains of six shoes and 22 buttons, but otherwise, “like the two privies on this lot,” produced an artifact assemblage “dominated by domestic items related to food serving” (Costello et al. 1999: 84). Also discovered was the bottom row of bricks of a wok stove that would have been used from approximately 1904 until 1910 “to cook communal meals for the workers” of a vegetable sellers’ compound (wok stove 542, Costello et al. 1999: 239-241, 79). The final deposit the second archaeological sampling discovered related to Chinese residents was the sheet refuse 590 complex assemblage. The complex was composed of a storage pit, a portion of the foundation, and scattered sheet refuse related to “a compound of Chinatown buildings at 332-336 Marchessault Street from ca. 1890 to 1905” (Costello et al. 1999: 80-81). A large number of small artifact fragments recovered from the deposit indicate the deposit was exposed “on the ground surface for many years” (Costello et al. 1999: 81), and artifacts dating to least 1908 indicate that after the buildings were removed in 1906, “the abandoned lot accumulated trash for a few years...before being sealed under a packed earthen surface” (Costello et al. 1999: 80). Selected Results of Analysis A major result of the first archaeological sampling was, as archaeologist Greenwood (1996: 66) wrote, that the “fieldwork successfully relocated deposits, structures, and roads that had been considered destroyed....” The archaeological investigation allowed the site designation to be made, allowing protection of the site during future projects. The recovered deposits provide an aggregate sample of material culture that had currency in the Chinatown communities of the 1880s through the 1930s. With a substantial aggregate sample, analysis mainly focused on a community-level ceramics study, though other possibilities are envisioned, where, for example “horizontal distributions can be used to ascribe household or commercial units of deposition...” (Greenwood 1996: 69). Greenwood cautions that when attempting to determine relative costs of recovered Chinese ceramics, vessel form must be considered in addition to and in conjunction with vessel fabric and glaze (1996: 85). Greenwood’s aggregate sample lends itself well to this sort of analysis, as it included 787 rice bowls (1996: 142). Comparing the types indicated a diversity of goods: “bamboo, among the least costly, was almost as prevalent as Celadon, an expensive ware.” Analysis of the vegetable-seller-associated ceramics that were recovered in the second archaeological sampling provides indications of a possible contrast in this more localized assemblage. Costello et al. found the vegetable sellers’ assemblage had “a surprisingly high proportion of expensive Celadon and four seasons types, and correspondingly low numbers of inexpensive bamboo, compared with” the earlier excavation (1999: 245, see also 1999: 249). With an eye toward investigating food purchasing and consumption patterns, the second archaeological study does a second type of ceramic analysis to compare the vegetable sellers’ assemblage with a portion of the earlier recovered assemblage (Costello et al. 1999: 252-253). Costello et al. selected three features they recovered that were associated with the vegetable sellers and which were deposited at the same time, privies 612, 614, and 622. They then selected six features from Greenwood’s excavations, Features 1, 30, 27, 32, 38, and 54, “as being similar to those of the vegetable sellers in quantity, integrity, variety, and association of artifacts” (Costello et al. 1999: 252; see also Greenwood 1996: 49). While noting the aggregate nature of the earlier sample, Costello et al. reason that although these deposits “lack definite associations with specific occupations, they do provide a sense of vessel use within the larger context of Chinatown’s community” (1999: 252). The conclusion of their comparison echoes Greenwood (1996: 49), finding that the “vegetable sellers appear to have been buying and eating their food communally” (Costello et al. 1999: 253). This interpretation is based on the following reasoning. Looking at a subcategory of “Chinese food and food storage-vessels,” Costello et al. (1999: 252-253, 255) counted the numbers of “large shipping jars” and “smaller types of storage vessels.” The excavations at the vegetable sellers’ compound revealed eight “large shipping jars,” among an assemblage that totaled 32 vessels. Large shipping jars outnumbered “smaller types of storage vessels,” of which about five were recovered. Costello et al. then compare the results of the sample from the vegetable sellers’ compound with a portion of Greenwood’s excavation, the six features delineated above. These six features produced a much larger assemblage, 1309 vessels. The number of vessels recovered from each feature ranged from 15 to 82 specimens, with the marked exception of one feature, Feature 29, which alone produced 1071 vessels. Costello et al. note that among these six features, large shipping jars and smaller types of storage vessels formed 7% and 5% of the 1309 recovered vessels, and it seems to be from this lower overall representation of large shipping jars in the assemblage from Greenwood’s excavation, that Costello et al. interpret the vegetable sellers’ sample as indicating communal food purchasing and consumption. It’s an interesting line of reasoning, and further contextual study might be able to speak to the question of how this might relate to this sample’s recovering just one single vessel that had been marked with a Chinese character (Costello et al. 1999: 250). Perhaps it supports a hypothesis of communal food preparation and consumption, being analogous to the marked vessels recovered from the Sacramento boarding houses. Alternately, it could be evidence against a wholly-centralized and communal set-up, and indicate some unknown degree of individual procurement and maintenance. Testing hypotheses about degrees of communal food purchasing and consumption could be assisted by further contextual study of historic local diets, and modeling the quantities, relative proportions, and types of various vessels that would come into play in different food procurement and consumption scenarios. Costello et al. (1999: 210) note that a relative absence of decorative items in comparison to other parts of Los Angeles Chinatown or what was recovered at Riverside indicates that the vegetable sellers “lived a more Spartan existence.” This comparison from the material culture assemblage as a whole may also be indicating the need for further research to contextualize the data from household ceramics. Further complicating the picture, the archaeologists also note that although the census of the vegetable sellers’ compound listed only men, there were recovered a number of items associated with children, such as a cup from a child’s tea set, and fragments from porcelain dolls (Costello et al. 1999: 209). The aggregate sample of ceramic and glass remains, like the aggregate sample from the San Jose Woolen Mills town dump, contained numerous artifacts indicating residents’ connections with local and national economies. Analyzing ceramics’ makers’ marks, Greenwood recorded 74 of U.S. attribution, and 98 representing European manufacturers, mostly British (1996: 84-85, 142, 165-169). Archaeologists recovered a nearly whole plate of the type called “Gaudy Staffordshire or Peasant Enamel Ware,” of English home or cottage industry manufacture, and the plate’s center was found to have been marked with a Chinese character carved into it (catalog number 3539, Greenwood 1996: 84-85, also 1996: color plate six). Recovered glasswares included fragments of commercial products from local dairies, a small milk jar marked “Armour & Co / Packers / Chicago,” Mason, Ball, and other brand home canning jars, a bottle of Benedictine, and bottles from “Dr. A. Bochee’s German Syrup,” patent medicines, New York brand “David’s Red Ink,” Chicago brand Tomas ink, Hood’s Sarsaparilla from Lowell, Massachusetts, Horlick’s Malted Milk, Lea & Perrins Worcester Sauce, Tabasco Sauce, and local brands of mineral water (Greenwood 1996: 173-188). Archaeologists also recovered “Chinese language newspaper fragments that had survived discard, demolition, fire, and burial” (Greenwood 1996: 158-159). These seem to have been the only Chinese language newspapers studied in the project. Items recovered included reporting on the League of Nations, lyrics to a Christian hymn, and a portion of a fictional series. The recovery of readable fragments of newspaper indicates the exciting possibility for discovery, at this or other sites, of usable remains of newspapers from time periods for which Chinese language newspapers have not otherwise been preserved. The previous section, describing the archaeological contexts sampled, discusses how the archaeological data provides evidence directly contradicting the reported observations of the California Commission of Immigration and Housing’s 1915 survey. Further information on the history of the political context within which the Chinatown communities grew comes from archaeologist Greenwood’s discovery of a newspaper account from the Los Angeles Times (10 August 1887; quoted in Greenwood 1996: 11-12), on the 1887 burning of Chinatown: Removing Chinatown. The removal of Chinatown from its present quarters on “Nigger” alley and on the east side of the Plaza to a section more remote and less obtrusive, is a good fortune which has literally been forced upon Los Angeles. Nobody thought seriously of undertaking such a beneficent work until Col. Bee, the Chinese Consul, came here and set about accomplishing it. Col. Bee is a man of affairs. If he is not oversanguine as to the results of his negotiations, Chinatown will be removed very shortly. It is “a consummation devoutly to be wished.” Undoubtedly the late incendiary fires and the withdrawl of insurance from the Chinese quarters by the insurance companies have been the most potent influences in securing this quick result. THE TIMES denounced the lawlessness which sought to burn the Chinamen out, but the good results which have unwittingly sprung from evil causes cannot be gainsayed or deprecated. Now Los Angeles street, which has so long been held in suspense, can be put through to a juncture with Alameda street, and an unsightly and noisome quarter of town can be revolutionized. The change cannot come too quickly. Finally, in addition to symbolic and overt political contexts, Greenwood (1996: 16-17) also draws archaeologists’ attention to investigating more subtle factors, such as influences municipal neglect might have on a Chinatown’s structure and use. RIVERSIDE CHINATOWNS History Great Basin Foundation researchers report that Judge John W. North established the “Riverside colony” in 1870, and by 1871 it was documented that Chinese Californians were among those working in the area (Lawton 1987a: 2). Residents were developing Riverside’s first Chinatown by 1879, downtown on the block surrounded by 8th, 9th, Maine, and Orange Streets (Lawton 1987a: 7-8). Great Basin Foundation researchers noted that by the early 1880s, to harvest the crops in the area, such as raisin grapes and naval oranges, “several hundred Chinese were necessary,” and were was often arranged through contract labor agencies (Lawton 1987a: 21). By the mid 1880s Riverside had a ten-building Chinese quarter. It was composed of one-story wooden buildings all rented from the same landowner, E. J. Davis, a carpenter and later hotel proprietor, with some overflow housing, probably day-laborers, in tents (Lawton 1987a: 11, citing Riverside Tax Assessment Records 1884, Riverside Press and Horticulturalist, 6 September 1882, p. 2, and 22 April, p. 3; also map in Brott and Mueller 1987: 441, 442). Local industries included fruit and vegetable growing; picking, packing and canning; and retail merchandising. Research into Riverside’s early history also uncovered documentation relating to numerous Chinese laundries. The early and mid-1880s saw some individuals and groups working to turn opinion against the Chinese quarter and cause its removal. Great Basin Foundation researchers report that in 1880, newspaper editor and “leading boomer” of Riverside, Luther M. Holt, moved the offices of the Riverside Press and Horticulturalist to a location adjoining the Chinese quarter (Lawton 1987a: 4). He then took editorial swipes at Chinese Californians for years afterwards (Lawton 1987a: 44). When an 1883 fire hit the downtown area, and Chinese volunteer firefighters assisted in trying to save the power press on which Holt’s newspaper was printed, Holt publicly thanked them, and then resumed his racist attacks (Lawton 1987a: 21-22). In 1885, Holt began a “campaign to evict the Chinese from the business district” (Lawton 1987a: 4, 44-46, citing Riverside Press and Horticulturalist, 31 August 1884, 13 June 1885). Historian Lawton (1987a: 45) found that the final push to eradicate the Chinese quarter coincided with the founding of Riverside’s First National Bank in June 1885. At that time, a San Bernardino County Grand Jury was assembled and determined that a number of public nuisances were presenting a threat of “Asiatic cholera and diseases of that character” (Lawton 1987a: 45, quoting Riverside Press and Horticulturalist, 2 July 1885). The landowner of the Chinese quarter was subsequently indicted, along with a number of Chinese businessmen. Contemporary observers saw in the grand jury’s actions a motive that was political rather than sanitary. In a letter to the editor, a Dr. J. T. Jenkins railed that the grand jury’s sanitation inspection was a set up against the Chinese (Lawton 1987a: 45-46, citing Riverside Press and Horticulturalist, 22 August 1885). Dr. Jenkins noted he had submitted to the grand jury evidence of sanitation abuses throughout Riverside far more egregious than any that could be leveled against the Chinatown. He wrote that he had subsequently investigated, and found that the Riverside Board of Health’s minutes had disappeared. Dr. Jenkins’ argument that the real problem was to improve sanitation throughout the City, which, he wrote, “could be accomplished without moving any portion of the population,” went unheeded by authorities. The grand jury’s indictments were quickly followed by other actions. That autumn saw the Riverside Board of Trustees passing a number of ordinances directed at eliminating the Chinese residents of the downtown business district (Lawton 1987a: 47, citing Ordinances 36 to 44). An arson was attempted (Lawton 1987a: 47; Langenwalter 1987: 79). Finally, in the summer of 1886, notes historian Lawton (1987a: 48), the Riverside National Bank moved into its new quarters at the corner of Ninth and Main Streets, and its backside faced what was “the now mostly vacated Chinese quarter.” Work to form a second Riverside Chinatown had begun immediately. In 1886, in the month following the Riverside Board of Trustees’ ordinances aimed at the downtown Chinese quarter, a group of Chinese business partners negotiated with landowners John and Amanda Cottrell to establish a Chinatown on their site in the Tequesquite Arroyo near the Santa Ana River, southwest of Riverside’s business district (Lawton 1987a: 49, 44). In 1887, city tax rolls show the partnership Quong Nim and Company completed purchase of the property (Lawton 1987a: 49-50). A prominent local contractor constructed the Chinatown, flanking a broad main business street with “simply constructed” wooden buildings (Lawton 1987a: 51). In 1893, a fire destroyed much of the Chinatown (Lawton 1987a: 18, 51; Brott and Mueller 1987: 457). The reconstruction project included narrowing the main street. New structures included “two impressive brick buildings containing six or more shops each and a series of” false-front Western-style wooden buildings *(Lawton 1987a: 51, citing Lawton 1959). Historian Lawton notes the history of the second Chinatown community is largely unwritten (Lawton 1987a: 52), although it’s known to have thrived for decades (Lawton 1987a: 51; Brott and Mueller 1987: 452-453). The community went into decline during the depression, and Great Basin Foundation historians note that between 1939 and 1941, following the death of “the last Chinese pioneer immigrant,” Riverside’s second Chinatown “had only one remaining inhabitant,” George Wong (Brott and Mueller 1987: 452-453; Anderson and Lawton 1987: 25). George Wong, or Wong Ho Leun, a native of Gom-Benn, in the 1930s opened the Bamboo Gardens Restaurant in the “almost abandoned” Chinatown *(Lawton 1987a: 49; Anderson and Lawton 1987: 26, citing Wong and Hedge 1968; also photos Brott and Mueller 1987: 457, 462). In the 1930s, the Ku Klux Klan, which each year made a ritual of burning crosses on nearby Sugarloaf Mountain, repeatedly and unsuccessfully attempted to drive George Wong from the site. Wong relayed that in repelling their attacks, on one occasion he had to bring out a shotgun. In 1943 George Wong became full owner of the Chinatown site, which he had hoped to develop with “a restaurant, a shopping center, and a Chinese Memorial pagoda with a museum” (Anderson and Lawton 1987: 26; also Brott and Mueller 1987: 435, citing Brown and Lang 1987). George Wong lived at the Chinatown site until his death in 1974. Wong had acted as a steward of the site. The County Board of Supervisors and State of California in 1968 had recognized the Riverside Chinatown historic buildings and site as historically significant, and the City Council awarded landmark designation in 1976 (Brott and Mueller 1987: 434-435; see also photo 490). The Great Basin Foundation has chronicled the subsequent history of the site. Following George Wong’s death, the Trans-Pacific Land and Development Corporation purchased the Chinatown property and, “in violation of existing heritage protection statutes,” destroyed the remaining structures of the Chinatown, “including the west brick building of shops, built in 1893” by one of the town’s original founders, Wong Nim (Brott and Mueller 1987: 435, citing Brott and Chase 1984; Lawton 1987a: 49-51; see also photos Brott and Mueller 1987: 493, 452). Afterward, a massive public effort that included members of the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California organized, and worked to save the archaeological remains through conducting what became Riverside’s Chinatown Archaeological Project by the Great Basin Foundation (e.g. Austen 1987: 506-508). Significant depositional events A fire in 1893 burned much of the Chinatown, and reconstruction efforts included narrowing the main street (Lawton 1987a: 51). Later, the site structure was influenced by events such as the twentieth century grading and filling of the arroyo where Chinatown was built (Brott and Mueller 1987: 443). The pre-excavation site conditions are captured in a photograph, reproduced in Brott and Mueller (1987: 434), and the current topography was recorded and overlaid on the excavation site map (Brott and Mueller 1987: 442). Excavation method The site was excavated by the Great Basin Foundation in 1985, under project director Clark W. Brott of the University of California, Riverside, and Staff Archaeologist Fred W. Mueller (Brott and Mueller 1987). Trenching with a backhoe using a 30-inch backhoe bucket was used as a discovery method (Brott and Mueller 1987: 441-448). Other sampling was based on predicted locations of historic structures shown on the Sanborn maps for 1895 and 1908 (Brott and Mueller 1987: 443, 442, 439). The Sanborn maps guided the placement of excavation units aimed at recovering both structural and non-structural remains (Brott and Mueller 1987: 441-448). Excavation units were “standard” 1x1 and 1x2 meter units “excavated in arbitrary twenty centimeter levels, except where architecture dictated otherwise” (Brott and Mueller 1987: 446, italics in original). Observations were recorded using the feature designation system. No geomorphological data was recorded, deposits instead being described in terms of their constituents—for example, “yellow clay”—and Munsell color code (Brott and Mueller 1987: 454, 456). It was hoped that soil bulks left standing between excavation units (here also called “witness columns” and “Testament Bulk”) would, after excavation, provide stratigraphic information not seen during excavation to aid interpretation of the deposits. The archaeologists found this was not the case (Brott and Mueller 1987: 456). Recovered soils were dry-screened through 1/4 and 1/8-inch mesh screen. Laboratory procedure included washing materials as appropriate, sorting according to material type, “and where possible by functional class” (Brott and Mueller 1987: 450). Ceramic fragments considered to have diagnostic value—rims, bases, marked sherds, and some plain sherds—were counted, and other sherds “estimated by bulk” to produce numbers entered into a computer database. It does not appear that ceramics were analyzed for crossmends, which might have helped produce data aiding clarification of the relationship between deposits. A number of steps were taken to share with the public information about the site during excavation and to invite participation (Brott and Mueller 1987: 446-449). An on-site exhibit was maintained in a 30-foot-long trailer. Accommodations were made for “special signs, footpaths, and makeshift bridges” to allow visitors to safely traverse the site. The archaeologists reported hundreds of people came to the site. Community volunteers were also trained and employed in screening the soils recovered from the site. Contexts sampled Features recovered included refuse deposits, burned remains of a temple, and two “architectural features,” of wood and brick, respectively (Brott and Mueller 1987: 458-461). Research with historic newspapers indicated that the temple was not burned in the 1893 fire, but instead was established in 1900 and burned in about 1918 (Lawton 1987c: 313; Brott and Mueller 1987: 457, 471-474). Three refuse-filled deposits, a dirt-filled basement, and laundry-drying area were reported as possibly dating as early as the founding of the second Chinatown (Brott and Mueller 1987: 458-461). The largest quantity of artifacts was recovered from a refuse disposal deposit where, with leaving a portion of the feature unexcavated for future study, the archaeologists excavated 20 cubic meters of artifact laden deposit (Brott and Mueller 1987: 474-476). The deposit is reported as dating broadly from 1896 to 1937 (Brott and Mueller 1987: 459), and Brott and Mueller (1987: 475) interpret it as “a long-term trash pit for part or all of the [Riverside Chinatown] community.” From the site overall a wide array of artifacts was recovered, including beads, bracelets, and other ornaments (Noab 1987: 395-411, see also Brott and Mueller 1987: 465, 482). A significant resource in understanding the site, a study of The San Bernardino Guardian from 1867 to 1930, collected more than 4,000 news stories relevant to the Riverside Chinatown (Lawton 1987c: 313). At the time of the publication of the Great Basin Foundation’s two-volume report, there was some analysis still in progress (Brott and Mueller 1987: 474), and it’s possible that further study of the collections might be able to fill the need noted (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1990: 11) for a tighter articulation of the history and structure of the archaeological site and its deposits. The historic newspaper study also provided important information on how the residents of Riverside interacted with each other and with their wider landscape. For example, sometimes there were announced measures designed to symbolically and physically create a separation between Chinese and white Californians, such as “the announcement in the Riverside Press and Horticulturalist of October 16, 1880, “that the Glenwood Hack between Colton and Riverside would no longer carry Chinese passengers” (Lawton 1987a: 22). The significant results of the Riverside Chinatown Archaeological Project are highlighted when one considers what had become the firmly established account of “the disappearance of the first Chinatown” (Lawton 1987a: 44). Great Basin Foundation historian Harry Lawton had in the 1950s spoken with a few elderly white men and women who had grown up in Riverside in the 1880s, and who had firsthand memories of Riverside’s first Chinatown. Noting that most “had fond memories of Chinese servants in their households and favorite vegetable vendors and laundry men,” Lawton found that “invariably, most of these first generation descendants of Riverside’s founders recalled that the old Chinese quarter had burned down suddenly one night. The Chinese inhabitants and quietly gathered up their belongings and moved to a second Chinatown site” in the arroyo. Such remembrances stand in stark contrast to the environment indicated by such events as the editorial crusade newspaperman Holt conducted against a Chinatown he alleged was “breeding disease in the very heart of town” (Lawton 1987a: 44, quoting Riverside Press and Horticulturalist, 13 June 1885). The massive public support behind recovering long forgotten historical material speaks to residents’ interest in understanding their full history. Conclusions Examining the record of previous archaeological research on California Chinatowns emphasizes a number of aspects of the existing archaeological sample. To date, only a few California Chinatowns have been sampled archaeologically. Of cities that have been so sampled, often only one Chinatown development out of the multiple historic sites has had any archaeological investigation. Further, of that subset of historic Chinatowns, only a tiny portion of the area of the historic populations has been sampled. When considering deposits where the associated time period is well enough known to allow interpreting the recovered material culture and other data in its contextual network of historic associations and events, the already-obtained sample shrinks to a handful of deposits. Reviewing the previous archaeological work also emphasizes the relationship between the excavation and other research methods and the interpretive potential of the sample produced. Among the archaeological work undertaken in a cultural resource management compliance setting, archaeologists who were able to plan and undertake excavations prior to the commencement of any construction work reported being able to recover more useful data. Being allowed to conduct areal excavations on the site led to archaeologists being more likely to be able to derive the interrelations between deposits, and therefore more often able to derive the temporal association useful for understanding the development of the site or the city over time, and other prerequisites for making archaeological interpretations. (We haven’t yet had enough samples to allow for studying the development over time of a household or other corporal body.) In contrast, when archaeologists had to work in confined trenches, or locations opened and closed according to the construction schedule of an already on-going project, the opportunity to observe data elucidating the relationships between deposits was often severely constrained or lost. Consequently, there has been little opportunity to determine associations for deposits not associated with structures and occupations already indicated by historical records. Additionally, in such cases, being able to derive the temporal association for a deposit often depends on it containing artifacts that are clearly temporally diagnostic, or elements of the deposit being already associated with a known date. Between a pre-construction study, and archaeological work scoped to occur once construction is under way, the contrast in the resulting interpretive potential of the data demonstrates pre-construction archaeological study helps reduce negative impacts to the unique and irreplaceable cultural resource. This is no small consideration, as the vast majority of archaeological research on Chinese American sites has been conducted as a compliance-mandated mitigation to a cultural resource, and this is likely to continue to be the case for some time to come. This chapter introduced much data and raised a number of lines of inquiry. Following the introduction of new data from Oakland in Chapter 4, Chapter 5 returns to examining research topics and the issues raised in this archaeological work.
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