Studs got me thinking about Hong Kong...that sounds a little dirty.

I was very psyched to hear that NPR is broadcasting a collaborative collection of Studs Terkel's interviews from his legendary book Working. No one did the job of collecting real stories from real workers with real empathy better than Terkel. Just hearing a portion of a single interview from "The Working Tapes" made me question just about every interview I ever conducted in anything like a similar vein. I suspect anyone who's ever attempted to capture such portraits feels the same tinge of a respectful burn. As a tribute to him, I'll offer a semi-relatable example from my trip five years ago to Hong Kong.

I was told long ago to seek somewhere to get an actual "chop" made. Chops (or signature seals) are the Chinese ink stamps dating back to 1000 B.C. that are used to personalize and formally sign everything from business documents to personal correspondence. When I arrived in Hong Kong, I knew I only had a handful of days to do so. One of my guide books said that over on Hong Kong Island...a totally manageable subway ride across Victoria Bay from the Kowloon District where we were staying...there was a place called "Chop Alley" where dozens of merchants still worked at the craft of making chops out of marble.

I made the mistake of showing up on a Saturday evening, when many of the merchants were shutting down. Soon enough, however, I found a pair of obvious Westerners in business attire walking in the same direction. I struck up a conversation and, sure enough, they were heading to pick up some chops they'd had made by a man who they recommended highly. They were lawyers from the U.S., and spoke Cantonese. Score one for random luck.

Soon we were talking with their guy, a gruff-looking pro who I'd never have picked in a million visits to Chop Alley. He was initially puzzled by the awkward nature of converting "Eric" to the appropriate characters. He used a diary-sized book with all the translations for what seemed like countless Western names. I easily found ones for my wife and daughter. I was even able using my new friends to pick the "most auspicious" version of my wife's name, which is still one of my favorite useful details from the exchange. But no Eric. So with some creative coaching from my friends, we got him to understand how to phonetically translate my name. They even wrote that translation in English, Cantonese and Mandarin along the margin.

I was told that he didn't work on Sundays, but he make an exception to meet me early the next morning. I showed up at the appointed time, just a few hours before needing to hop our bus to the airport. After paying the non-negotiable price...a detail I loved in comparison with the often haggling-obsessed nature of most Chinese transactions...I hung around and watched him work on some others. Carving out characters from marble is amazing to see done. Along the way, he explained what he was doing. I didn't understand a word, but I would've loved to stay there for hours. When I realized I had to hoof it back to the hotel, I made all the universal gestures for "gotta go" and offered up my thanks. He patted me on the back, repeatedly saying "Eric" with an increasingly clear pronunciation. I couldn't repay the compliment because I never got his name. I think I kept saying "Friend" as I repeated the gesture. Because I meant it. Here's a few pics of the actual handover of the finished product.

My "friend" the chop maker, surrounded by his wares, testing one of the chops made to order for me.

I can only hope another "Eric" shows up at some point to put my friend's pronunciation to the test. 

I regret not being able to do full a Studs Terkel-type interview with a translator to better understand this man's work. Since Hong Kong was my port of exit before heading back to the States, this was really the final interaction I had on a trip that was largely driven by a desire to understand the manufacturing and culture there. Broadly speaking, I like to think that I learned much about China on that trip. I can only imagine what's observable differences have characterized the past five years, given the dizzying pace of constant change there. Here's hoping I get to go back soon to test that hypothesis. And to head back to Chop Alley.

The view of Hong Kong Island from the deck of a boat on Victoria Bay, on our last night's excursion to the fishing and restaurant-filled community on Lamma Island.

And on the way back to Hong Kong City that same night. Until my next visit, China...take good care of yourself.

Safely tracing a path back to Shanghai

PEN America yesterday released a chilling, illuminating report on the increasingly difficult environment foreign journalists face when reporting from present-day China. When I was there precisely five years ago, I wasn't working as a journalist or trying to post anything to a blog or Facebook or Twitter or a newsy site in any form. Nonetheless, I couldn't access any of those sites or the like given the "Great Firewall" the Chinese government relies upon. According to PEN America's study, it's since gotten a helluva lot worse for people trying to pursue and publish stories. What better time for me to offer a taste of what I was pursuing then, as I continue to research and write about it from a safe distance.

After spending close to a week in Beijing, I traveled with my group of 40 foreigners to Shanghai. We were officially there to see the Chinese part of the global fur trade. We spent our days being spoon-fed locations that surely were allowed for only with government approval. One particular excursion from our temporary base in Shanghai gave me a chance for some off the leash wandering. We were taken by tour bus to a small coastal city named Yuyao. It would have been indistinguishable from the other sprawling population centers radiating out from Shanghai, had it not been for the existence of a major fur garment manufacturing facility plopped amidst the maze-like residential "hutongs" and rapidly gentrifying blocks of factories. What we saw inside that facility and the adjacent "wholesale mall" of retailers was unlike anything I saw up close in China. In my book Pelting Out, you will learn much more about what I saw and learned there. For now, here's a few pics to whet your appetite.

Just in case visitors are confused about what the majority of the goods they're buying comes from, the China Fur Market in Yuyao offers a reminder. It felt and looked like an empty outlet mall. 

Up in the main manufacturing warehouse, workers match cut pieces of pelts to larger garment patterns.

This type of manufacturing requires lots of nails, and lots of precision.

I was struck by the diverse workforce...drawn from many parts of China from what I was told...populating this specialized manufacturing trade.

After some touring as a group within the factory, our group was encouraged to go shopping within the connected mall. I used this open time to wander into the nearby neighborhood. This wasn't approved...or formally discouraged...yet it didn't take long for me to feel unwelcome. A few blocks of shops radiated out from the China Fur Market, getting shabbier as the distance from the center grew. Soon the fur goods shops ended and what I came to recognize (not by experience, I assure you) as sex worker shops began. These mini-brothels all had the same sliding glass patio doors behind which stood women ready to greet visitors. The doors would open with that signature "swoosh," that is the universal sound of a sliding door running along its track. When the workers caught sight of me...a pale Westerner with my Canon camera slung over over my shoulder...the sliding chorus was all I could hear over the neighborhood traffic. Not long after, I garnered a few curious men tailing behind me. I could sense I'd ventured a bit too far into the unguided, so I turned back toward the security of the business-lined blocks. Along the way, I noticed fur garment patterns nailed to plywood outlines laid out in every available area. There weren't any customers. And there definitely weren't any other Westerners.  

Any available surface is a good enough surface for the neighborhood's workers to lay out patterned goods in process.

Luckily nothing unwelcome or unkind happened to me while exploring around China in pursuit of my chosen subject. According to PEN America's reporting, however, way too many other writers haven't been so fortunate while trying to work there. Here's hoping everyone working in a safe locale this Friday evening raises their voices and glasses to those in China and elsewhere endeavoring to tell stories that matter. Wherever you're exploring, I look forward to sharing new stories with y'all next week.

Made Right Here goods for the discerning Lumbersexual

My mind has recently been on the manufacturing side of the fur trade. Since it would take a whole lot more effort to travel back to China to see where much of that occurs, there seemed to be no better time than today to visit one of Seattle's own garment manufacturers to see the action. C.C. Filson's Pioneer Alaska Clothing and Blanket Manufacturers opened here in Seattle in the 1890s..now you can just call them Filson...eventually fueled by the Klondike Gold Rush and the demand for goods to equip those often futile dreamers needing gear to stave off death. Long before Velcro or GoreTex or REI Cooperative or the broad categories of competing goods and manufacturers were close to seeing the bushels of money to be made from selling a "lifestyle", Filson made a name for themselves making quality survival/adventure gear. Thanks to a recent infusion of private equity and the influx of consumer interest in the trappings of the modern lumbersexual, Filson is seemingly thriving. So much so that they offer a cute but at best cursory tour of their factory a few times each week. Here's a quick peek at the manufacturing going on just downstairs from their seriously sexy retail showroom.

I love the splash of floral color amidst the otherwise industrial sewing stations.

The main product seen in production here was Filson's line of luggage and messenger bags. Much of their apparel is made in another factory, also located in Seattle. 

Their retail store also features the "Filson Restoration Department" doing the work of turning many old, less-functional products into new, even-more-overpriced one-of-a-kind keepsakes. I'm not complaining...this sort of bespoke manufacturing is something I believe bespeaks of worthy reclaimation...although the $150 canvas and leather-bottomed "Ditty Bag" did chafe my mast a bit. The larger point being, seeing goods made close to home is worth the trip. No matter what materials are being used.