Koiso’s 1943 Strongman Tours: Surprise village inspections to intimidate local leaders and impose Japanese language and culture all over the Korean countryside

Ever since Imperial Japan annexed Korea in 1910, subduing the countryside proved to be one of the most difficult tasks. The Imperial Japanese central government in Seoul struggled to exert control over traditional rural communities, which remained bastions of Korean language, culture, and identity. Imposing Japanese language, culture, and ideology on these far-flung regions was a daunting challenge.

Original Caption: Governor-General Koiso gets into a truck at Gapyeong Mine

By 1942, Governor-General Koiso Kuniaki (1942–1944) sought to accomplish what his predecessors had failed to do: win the “hearts and minds” of Korean villagers and persuade them to accept Japanese rule, abandon Korean culture, and adopt Japanese language and Shinto practices.

In the February 1943 inspection tour, Koiso asked the local myeon (township) chief in Gapyeong whether he had been conducting “rensei” (錬成, “training”). This was not mere vocational training. Rensei was a euphemism for ideological indoctrination: compulsory bowing toward the Imperial Palace every morning, mandatory visits to Shinto shrines, adoption of Japanese language, Shinto purification rituals like misogi, and other practices intended to transform Koreans into loyal imperial subjects. The myeon chief—often a local villager chosen for his charisma and leadership—was expected to shepherd his people into these unpopular and humiliating activities.

In the October 1943 inspection tour, Koiso makes a surprise visit to a random hamlet in a rural part of Southeastern Korea. He startles the Korean hamlet leader, named Mr. Toriyama, and peppers him for 40 minutes with questions about cotton production and food preservation. Koiso encourages to report to the myeon leader, county leader, provincial leader, or even to him personally if there is "anything troubling". Mr. Toriyama is described as being overcome with emotion as he struggles to find words.

The surprise nature of these visits conveys the following ominous message to the Korean people: We are watching you, and you better be at your best behavior, because you won't know when we will be paying you a visit.

The format of these inspection tours will feel familiar to anyone who follows North Korea today: the “Great Leader” style of visiting factories, farms, and villages, giving advice, and presenting himself as the wise teacher and commander. In the 1943 article, Koiso is portrayed arriving in remote villages, inspecting workplaces, lecturing officials and workers on everything from farming to mining, and dispensing “guidance” in a paternalistic tone.

The key concept repeated in these articles and throughout the news coverage in this period is 末端行政 (mattan gyōsei), meaning “grassroots administration.” By 1943, the colonial regime recognized that real control had to be enforced at the lowest levels—hamlets and townships. So, they began reinforcing staffing at this level and making more inspection tours to make its presence felt more palpably in everyday life. For rural Koreans, this must have felt like the government was constantly breathing down their necks, pressuring them to abandon their culture and conform to Imperial rule.

TLDR: Imperial Japan conducted surprise "Great Leader" inspections all over Korea to keep Koreans on their tiptoes in a state of fear, even at the grassroot level. Governor-General Koiso fashioned himself as a hands-on, fatherly strongman who gave “guidance” on everything from farming to mining.

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijo Nippo) February 26, 1943

“Harmony between the township and the police”
Governor-General preaches local administration in Oeseo-myeon

The Governor-General rode a truck into the mountains for an inspection. This was no idle outing. Wherever war-related material is being produced, he ventures even into the remote mountains to comfort and encourage the industrial warriors, determined to contribute even a little to strengthening the war effort. We must recognize both Governor-General Koiso’s firm resolve and the gravity of the war situation that brought it about. Fierce battles are being waged here too.

This was the Governor-General’s frontline command, his angry determination to annihilate the U.S. and Britain exploding as he ventured into the first line of defense of the home front. On his shabby work desk, the medal ribbons that tell of many military achievements shone brightly. On February 25th, Governor-General Koiso, accompanied by Governor Seto of Gyeonggi Province and Secretary Kobayashi, left his official residence at 9:30 a.m. and headed for Asano Cement’s asbestos mine in Gapyeong-gun, Seorak-myeon.

Before the Cheongpyeong Dam of the former Han River Hydropower was built, the river could not be crossed, so remote was this mountainous region that even the county governor had never once set foot there.

At 11:00 a.m. the Governor-General arrived at the Seorak-myeon office. He was welcomed by the governor of Hansan-gun and Police Chief Mr. Kuwana, entered the office, received a report on local conditions, and gave instructions to township (myeon) staff.

He asked in a friendly tone, “Well now, myeon leader, are you conducting training?” The Governor-General explained the essence of training in plain language: “For agricultural production, the landlords must work diligently. Since the myeon is the grassroots of administration that directly touches the masses, you must work thoroughly. To do that, you must put yourself in the place of those you govern and carefully look after them.”

After 11:00 a.m. he changed vehicles and boarded a truck. Sitting heavily beside the driver, he stared intently ahead. What was he thinking? Perhaps in his heart he was saying: “Warriors who sacrificed themselves at Kwajalein and Roi-Namur, rest in peace. The home front, burning with anger for vengeance, is rising.”

At 12:30 p.m. he arrived at the Gapyeong Mine office. He immediately heard a summary of the mine from Director Shōji of Asano Cement, then a detailed explanation of the current situation from Director Taniguchi. As usual, he asked questions about management and labor administration. He entered the mine tunnel, addressed the workers: “Men, do your best!” and encouraged them. Afterwards, he inspected workers’ housing and cautioned management to “study labor issues more thoroughly.”

Once again he descended the mountain by truck. At 3:50 p.m. he arrived at Cheongpyeong Power Plant, listened to explanations, and at 4:30 p.m. inspected the Government Fish Hatchery at Cheongpyeong. At 5:00 p.m. he entered the Oeseo-myeon (외서면, 外西面) office, received a report on local conditions, and gave instructions to township (myeon) staff and police officers.

A major defect of administration in Korea is that grassroots governance has not fully penetrated. No matter how hard Koiso strives, no matter how much the governor studies, it is useless unless the township (myeon) officials, who directly contact the people, do their work properly. The township and the police must cooperate in harmony.

Thus ended the third day of encouragement and inspection. He returned to the residence at 7:30 p.m.

Photo: Governor-General Koiso gets into a truck at Gapyeong Mine

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijo Nippo) October 29, 1943

“Tell Me Anything”: A Paternal Concern for Grassroots Administration
Governor-General Koiso’s Lightning Inspection of a Rural Village

Reported by Special Correspondent Sakamoto from Masan

Not long after leaving Samcheonpo, Governor-General Koiso’s car once again came to a stop. Because the schedule for this inspection tour was deliberately kept secret, the car often halted at unexpected places. This time it was at Yeha (예하, 禮下), a model hamlet in Jeonchon Township, Jinyang County (진양, 晉陽). Guided by County Governor Takashima and Hamlet Federation Chairman Toriyama, the Governor-General entered the hamlet office. He then listened for about forty minutes as Chairman Toriyama explained the hardships and efforts behind the hamlet’s construction and management.

As befitting a model hamlet, facilities such as a communal bathhouse and a daycare center were in place. Standing with Chairman Toriyama on a rice-paddy path, Governor-General Koiso remarked:

“The cotton seems to be growing very well, but are you not planting too much of it? It is not that cotton is unnecessary, but right now food is more important. Even if cotton must be reduced, food must be secured. How many bolls does one stalk bear?”

He engaged Chairman Toriyama in a detailed, technically informed conversation. Then he shifted the subject to ask closely about the state of material distribution.

“Is there anything troubling you? Feel free to tell me even when the Governor or the Chief of Police are present. If you have any requests, speak directly to me,”

he said with heartfelt sincerity. Deeply moved, Toriyama’s face flushed, and he struggled to find words.

The Governor-General continued:

“From now on, I want you to be the central figure in your hamlet and build it into the finest model hamlet in all of Korea. If there is something you cannot handle alone, consult with your township (myeon) leader. If the myeon leader cannot manage it, then go to the county governor or even the provincial governor. And if even then there is some matter unresolved, do not hesitate—consult with me directly.”

To Governor-General Koiso, who ceaselessly strove for administrative penetration to the very grassroots, the heartfelt zeal of an obscure Hamlet Federation Chairman for village management must have been truly gratifying. Chairman Toriyama was overcome with emotion.

The Governor-General pressed further:

“Do you grow potatoes?”
“Yes, we do.”
“And how do you store them?”
“We build a rack in our home’s ondol (heated floor system) and pile them there.”
“That risks rotting, does it not? Is there not a way to store them in greater quantity and for longer periods?”
“We have a communal storage facility just ahead.”
“I see. Then let me have a look.”

With a gentle gaze meeting the moist eyes of the moved Chairman Toriyama, the Governor-General returned to his car. His conviction remained firm: the farmers were dependable, the farmers were the soundest element of society. In this place too, that conviction was scarcely betrayed. Thinking constantly of food production increases and never allowing himself a moment’s rest, Governor-General Koiso’s car once again sped forward at arrow-like speed.

[Transcription]

京城日報 1943年2月26日

”面と警察が仲よく”

総督、外西面で末端行政を説く

総督がトラックに乗って山を視察した。これは一片の茶飲み話ではない。戦力物資の生産が行われるところ、どのような山奥にでも出かけて行って、産業戦士を慰問激励少しでも戦力の増強に資しようという小磯総督の固い決意と、総督にこのような決意を起させた戦局の重大性を認識せねばならない。激戦は此処にも展開されているのだ。

銃後の第一線に米英撃滅の怒りを爆発させに出かける総督の陣頭指揮だ。数々の勲功を語る略綬がみすぼらしい運営台に燦と輝いている。二十五日、小磯総督は瀬戸京畿道知事、小林秘書官を帯同して午前九時三十分官邸発、加平郡雪岳面の浅野セメント加平石綿鉱山に向った。

旧漢江水電の清平ダムが出来るまでは河を渡れなかったので、この地方には郡守にも遂に一度も足を踏み入れずに過ごした者があったほどの山奥である。

十一時雪岳面事務所着。韓山郡守と桑名警察署長の出迎えを受けて事務所に入り、管内情況の報告を受け面吏員に訓示を行った。

『どうかな面長さん、錬成やっとるかい』といった。ざっくばらんな調子である。総督は錬成の本質を説き、『農業生産には地主さんというものがよく働いてもらわねばならぬ。面は大衆に接する行政の末端であるから、しっかりやってもらいたい。それには治められる者の身になってよく人々の世話をすることだ』と易々しく説明する。

十一時過ぎ車を替えてトラックに乗る。総督は運転手の横にドッカと坐って前方を睨む。何を見つめているのだろう。恐らく心ではこう云っていたであろう。

『クエゼリン、ルオットに散華せる勇士よ、安らかに眠れ。復仇の怒りに燃える銃後は立ち上がっているぞ』

十二時三十分、加平鉱山事務所着、直ちに浅野セメント荘司理事から山の概略を聞き、更に谷口所長から現況について詳細な説明を聴取した。そのあとで例によって経営、労務管理に対する質問を発する。坑道に入る。労務者に訓示。『諸君しっかりやって下さい』と激励する。そして後に労務者の住宅を見て山を辞したが、『労務者の問題をもっと研究するように』と注意を与える。

再びトラックで山を降って、三時五十分清平発電所着、説明を聞き、四時三十分清平の総督府養魚場を視察。五時外西面事務所に入って管内情況を聴取し、面吏員、警察官を訓示する。

朝鮮に於ける統理の一大欠陥は末端行政が十分に滲透していないことだ。小磯が如何に努力しても、また知事がどんなに勉強しても何にもならないので、大衆に直接接触する面の方々がしっかりやってもらわねばならぬ。面と警察とが仲よくせねばならないのです。

こうして激励と視察の第三日は終わった。七時半帰邸。

【写真＝トラックに乗り込む小磯総督ー加平鉱山にて】

京城日報 1943年10月29日

何でも私に話せ：末端行政に細かい親心
小磯総督農村を電撃視察

【馬山にて坂本特派員】三千浦を出て間もなく小磯総督の自動車がまたとまった。何処を視るのか最初から予定を伏せている視察行だけに時ならぬ所でよく停まる。此処は晋陽郡井村面礼下模範部落だ。高島郡守、鳥山部落聯盟理事長の案内で部落の事務所に入った。鳥山理事長から部落の建設経営苦心談を約四十分に亘って聴取する。

模範部落だけあって共同浴場、託児所などの施設が整っている。田の畔道に小磯総督は鳥山理事長と並んで立った。

『綿花が非常によく出来ているようだが、作付段別が多過ぎはしないかね。綿が不必要というのではないが、それよりも現在は食糧の方がより大切だ。綿を減らしてでも食糧を確保しなければならない。これは一本に幾つ実をつけるかね』と専門的知識を傾けて鳥山理事長と綿々問答。今度は話題を変えて物資の配給状況をこまごまと訊ねる。そして、『何か困っていることはないかね。知事さんや警察部長さんがいても宜いから、希望があったら私に話しなさい』と真情こめて語れば鳥山理事長は感極まったが顔を火照りして言葉をつまらせる。

『今後とも部落の中心人物となって全鮮一の模範部落を作って貰いたい。自分で出来ないことがあったなら面長さんに相談しなさい。面長さんで駄目なら郡守さんでも知事さんでも宜しい。それでも判らない問題があったら遠慮はいらないから私に相談しなさい』と総督はいう。行政の末端滲透を希求して止まない小磯総督にとって名もない一部落聯盟理事長の部落経営に対する熱情はこよなく嬉しかったに違いない。鳥山理事長はただただ感激するばかり。総督は更に話をついで、

『芋は出来るかね』
『出来ます』
『貯蔵の方法は』
『自宅の温突に柵を作ってそこに載せています』
『そんなことでは腐る恐れがあるんじゃないかね。もっと沢山長期に貯蔵出来る方法はないかね』
『部落の共同貯蔵所がこの先にあります』

『そうかね、では見せて貰おう』と感激にうるむ鳥山理事長の眼差しを優しく見返しながら自動車の人となった。農民は宜しい。農民はもっとも健実だという総督の抱懐はここでも殆ど裏切られることがなかったのであろう。食糧増産を念じて心休まる暇とてない小磯総督を乗せて自動車はまたも矢のようなスピードで驀進する。

Source: National Library of Korea, Digital Newspaper Archive 

March 1945: Taxis in Seoul nearly vanish, rickshaws exploit passengers, yet Japanese and Korean collaborator elite still get chauffeured drunk to bars and brothels

In the last months of World War II before Imperial Japan’s surrender, the public transportation infrastructure in Seoul was in a state of near total collapse, as described in this March 1945 article of Keijo Nippo, the main newspaper of colonial Korea. Vehicles of all types, including trains and streetcars, were breaking down. Due to fuel shortages and repair difficulties, taxis had become so scarce that only a handful were running, mostly reserved for weddings, funerals, or by those with enough money and influence to supply their own fuel. Human-powered rickshaws came to replace the taxis, but they largely ignored the needs of the ordinary citizenry, tending to concentrate around the entertainment districts to serve rich and powerful customers (Japanese and Korean collaborator elite) who didn't mind paying exorbitant black-market fares. This article describes how, while there were plenty of rickshaws willing to carry drunken men to the red-light districts, none were willing to help elderly women who were stranded at the train station with heavy luggage. Even bicycle-powered rickshaws were rare luxuries, since parts and repairs were nearly impossible to obtain in the war economy.

Original caption: Rickshaws scrambling for passengers at the front of the train station

The article also highlights how rickshaw pullers received no special food rations, despite their physically grueling work. In wartime Seoul, wages in yen mattered far less than access to special food rations. The fact that barbers received food rations while rickshaw men did not was cited as fueling black-market pricing and disorder in the transportation sector.

Through this article, we catch a glimpse of how colonial Seoul’s public life was breaking down under the combined strain of shortages, corruption, and inequality. The transportation system became a mirror of the larger wartime crisis: a city where even getting across town required pleading, connections, or bribes, and where basic mobility revealed the stark divide between the privileged Japanese and Korean collaborator elite and the ordinary people.

TLDR: By spring 1945, taxis in Seoul had nearly vanished due to wartime shortages, becoming luxury vehicles for special occasions, largely replaced by rickshaws which gouged customers and mostly catered to Japanese and Korean collaborator elite in entertainment districts. Even bicycles were scarce luxuries, and rickshaw pullers, denied adequate food rations, turned to black-market practices, showing how food rationing mattered more than cash in those days.

[Translation]

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijo Nippo) March 26, 1945

Let's Display Fare Tables Inside Rickshaws!
Disorder from Rickshaws “Pooling Together”
Sunday Paper Inspection: Vehicles

Lately, streetcars can no longer be relied upon, so in the end, people with urgent errands and elderly passengers, women, and children have to rely upon automobiles, hand-pulled rickshaws, and bicycle-powered "welfare" rickshaws for transportation. But can passengers actually ride these rickshaws comfortably? Let us cast an inspector’s eye on the situation.

Hand-Pulled Rickshaws

In the days when taxis were flourishing, the shabby hand-pulled rickshaw had been forgotten, regarded as a relic of the past, and had all but disappeared. But now, when taxis are nearly impossible to access, the reality is that one must bow and plead to be allowed to ride in a rickshaw. Even after persuading a puller and setting off, when the time comes to pay, the puller will suddenly demand “Please be more generous,” and insist on double or triple the regulated fare.

According to the fare revision of February this year, even if one were to ride across Seoul from end to end, the maximum fare should not exceed five yen. For example, from Dongdaemun to Yongsan Station is four yen, while from Seoul Station to Chōsen Industrial Bank is fifty sen. Even these revised fares represent roughly a doubling of the earlier prices.

Looking at the Honmachi police district, where there are the most depots, there are ten depots and 261 rickshaws registered. Excluding broken rickshaws and shortages of pullers, about 220 are actually in operation. Some depots have “pooling” arrangements, where pullers who own their own rickshaws gather together to form joint depots. These so-called “pooled” depots easily disrupt order and ought to be dissolved and transferred to regular depots.

The fare problem remains. If every puller had the chivalrous temperament of the legendary outlaw “Muhōmatsu,” illegal fares would not run rampant. To be sure, the difficulty of repairs and food shortages are matters for sympathy, but still, dishonest pullers should not be tolerated. The February fare revision abolished the earlier meter system, and since most passengers do not know the regulated rates, they are easily exploited. Authorities currently require the fare table to be posted only at depots, but why not make small versions and require them to be posted inside each rickshaw? A receipt-slip system, recording distance and amount, exchanged with the fare, would also be good. In fact, Seoul Station depot is about the only one implementing this properly. Other depots should quickly adopt a mandatory receipt system.

Pullers complain that, despite the labor involved, they receive no special food rations. This is one cause of the black-market fares. If even barbers receive special food rations, surely men who run around pulling passengers all day should be considered as well. If food rations are too difficult, then all pullers should be enrolled in the Labor Service Association and allowed to use the association dining halls.

As a rule, rickshaws are forbidden to pick up passengers outside designated stands, but this rule is scarcely observed. It is outrageous that there are rickshaws to carry drunken men to the red-light districts, yet none to carry elderly women stranded late at night with heavy luggage at the station. Ghostly pullers loitering in suspicious quarters outside stands must be strictly suppressed by the authorities. Likewise, the dishonorable “gentlemen” who, relying on their wealth, recklessly throw down bills far beyond the proper fare and thereby disrupt order, should engage in serious self-reflection.

Passengers too must not simply pay the dishonest fares that are demanded by the puller, but should always insist on receiving a receipt listing the operator, the puller's name, distance, and payment amount as proof for later. The murky state of rickshaw operations should not be blamed only on the pullers. As in other spheres, the unscrupulous attitude of the nouveau riche- “as long as you have money, anything goes” - has naturally helped create this climate.

Welfare Rickshaws and Automobiles

In place of hand-pulled rickshaws, the “welfare rickshaw” (bicycle-powered) has emerged in step with the times. However, since bicycles themselves cannot be shipped in reliably and repairs are difficult, the number of welfare rickshaws operating in Seoul is only about fifty, which are too few to matter. In terms of fares and treatment, they may be regarded the same as hand-pulled rickshaws, since the standard fare is identical. Their transport companies should also adopt a receipt-slip system.

As for taxis, they no longer resemble their former selves. Of about sixty taxis in Seoul, only twenty are barely running, hampered by fuel shortages and repair difficulties. Fares remain by charter or by meter, as before, but in practice they are used only for exceptional cases such as weddings or funerals. Some operators even demand that passengers bring their own fuel, extracting hefty profits, but such operators ought to reflect on their conduct. With fuel and materials growing ever scarcer, taxis may soon be forced to disappear altogether. [Photo: Rickshaws scrambling for passengers at the front of the train station]

[Transcription]

京城日報 1945年3月26日

乗り物：俥内に賃金表を

秩序を紊す『持寄り』

日曜紙上査察

このごろの電車も仲々あてにならないし、結局急ぎの用とか、老幼婦女子の足を確保してくれるのは自動車、人力車、厚生車などであるが、果してこれらの俥に気持ちよく乗れるかどうか査察の眼を向けて見よう。

人力車：かつてタクシー華かなりしころ、うす汚い人力車は昔の遺物のごとく忘れられ、すっかり影をひそめていたが、タクシーなど思いもよらぬ今となっては平身低頭してやっと乗せて貰えるというのが現状。さて拝み倒すようにして挽子を納得させた上、俥を走らせ料金を払わんとすると、挽子は『もっと考えてやって下さい』と居直り規定料金の二倍、三倍を要求する始末である。

今年の二月改正になった規定料金でゆけば京城府内の端から端まで乗り廻って見ても五円以上の料金をとられることはない。例をとると東大門から龍山駅前までが四円、京城駅から鮮銀前までが五十銭となっている。これでもこの改正料金は従前の約二倍の値上げを行っている。

最も帳場の多い本町署管内を中心にしてこれらの現状を追求して見る。本町管内で帳場が十ヶ所、台数が二百六十一台その中で故障俥や挽子不足による動かない俥を除けば現在二百二十台が走っている。さてこの帳場の組織であるが、中には俥を持った挽子がお互いに寄り集って一つの共同帳場を形成しているものが相当ある。所謂『持ち寄り』というのだが、これなどはとかく秩序を紊しやすいから解体し、他の帳場に移るべきであろう。

賃金の問題であるが挽子の全部があの無法松のごとき気質の持ち主であれば闇賃金なぞ横行しないであろう。そうはいかない修理難、食糧不足など同情すべき点もあるが、そうかといって不正挽子の横行は許さるべきではない。二月の改正料金によって以前のメーター制は撤廃されているが、客が規定料金の基準を殆ど知っていないということが、挽子に乗ぜられやすい一つの弱点である。当局は規定料金表の明示を帳場のみに指定しているが、その料金表を小型にして各俥内に掲示しておくようにしてはどうか。距離と金額を記載した領収証となる伝票を料金と引き換えに受け取る伝票制もよいが、現にこれを大体確実に実施している帳場は京城駅内の帳場位であろう。他の帳場も絶対伝票制を速やかにとるべきである。

挽子の悩みであるのは労働の割に食糧の特配がないことだ。これが闇賃金を醸成する一つの原因である。理髪業の職人が特配食糧を受けているくらいならば一日中走り廻っている挽子なども当然考慮さるべきであろう。食糧の特配が面倒なら挽子を全部労務奉公会に加入させ、所属食堂の利用を許しては如何。

原則として指定の駐車場以外で客を拾うことは出来ないが之がさっぱり遵守されていない。千鳥足の酔漢を遊郭に運ぶ俥はあっても深夜の駅前で荷物をかかえ途方にくれる老人婦女を乗せる俥がないとは言語道断である。駐車場以外の怪しげなる界隈をうろつく幽霊車夫は当局が断乎粛正すべきであろう。また金のあるにまかせて料金以上に札ビラを切っての世界を紊す不徳紳士も猛省すべきである。

客も又挽子の要求する不正料金をいうが儘に払わず営業者、従業者氏名、距離金額を明載した伝票を必ず後日の証拠として受け取ることだ。人力車の不明朗な現状をただ挽子の責とすべきではない。他の場合もそうであるが、得てして金さえあればという道義心のない成金的な義が自然とこういう世界を作りあげているのである。

厚生車・自動車：人力車に代る厚生車が時代の波に乗って登場して来たものの、肝腎な自転車の入荷が当にならないのと、修理難でいま府内で動いているのはせいぜい五十台ぐらいを数えるのみで全く問題にならないが、料金をはじめ待遇など人力車と同じに見做してよい。基準料金も人力車と同一であるから交通会社も伝票制にすべきだ。

同じくタクシーも昔日の面影はなく京城府内約六十台のタクシーが燃料の欠乏、修理難のため、その中二十台辛うじて動いている状態である。料金は貸し切り、メーター制で以前のままであるが、これを利用するのも結婚、葬式など余程やむを得ない場合が多い。一部の業者は燃料を持ってくれば動かすという条件で相当ボロイ儲けをしているが、業者の反省を促したい。これから益々燃料、資材の逼迫によってタクシーもやがて姿を消さざるを得なくなるであろう。【写真＝駅前で奪い合の人力車】

Source: National Library of Korea, Digital Newspaper Archive 

See also:

• Imperial Japanese and Korean collaborator elite partied in brothels and luxury restaurants while ordinary Koreans starved in wartime Seoul, early 1945 (link)

• April 1945 Seoul dining: the public endured price-gouging and scraps, while privileged Japanese and Korean collaborator elites drank and feasted behind closed doors (link)

• Imperial Japan’s railway system in Korea was falling apart by early August 1945 with severe overcrowding, parts and labor shortages, exhausted staff causing more accidents, train conductors gone rogue … (link)

[Rough comparison of 1945 rickshaw fares to 2025 taxi fares in Seoul]

Out of curiosity, I compared Seoul rickshaw fares in March 1945 to equivalent taxi fares today in modern day Seoul. To do my estimates, I assumed that 1 yen in wartime 1945 Korea would be roughly equivalent to 25,000 Korean Won today. I came up with this rough conversion by noting that each morning edition of the Keijo Nippo of 1942 was priced at 6 sen, and each morning edition of Asahi Shimbun is priced at 160 Japanese yen today. This conversion isn't perfect, so this will be just one imperfect metric to help understand the amounts of money mentioned in this article.

A rickshaw trip from Dongdaemun to Yongsan Station was quoted as 4 yen, roughly equivalent to 100,000 Korean won today. According to KakaoMap, a similar taxi trip would cost 14,700 Korean won today, about 7 times less expensive than over 80 years ago. 

A rickshaw trip from Seoul Station to Chōsen Industrial Bank (now Lotte Department Store Avenuel Main Branch) was quoted as 50 sen, roughly equivalent to 13,000 Korean won today. According to KakaoMap, a similar taxi trip today would cost 9,400 Korean won, a difference of only around 4,000 Korean won.

April 1945 Seoul dining: the public endured price-gouging and scraps, while privileged Japanese and Korean collaborator elites drank and feasted behind closed doors

As Imperial Japan’s war effort was collapsing in spring 1945, life in colonial Seoul grew increasingly desperate. Ordinary Koreans were suffering under brutal rationing, food shortages, and the pressures of forced labor, while the colonial press in Seoul still tried to project order. In April 1945, the Keijo Nippo newspaper ran a rare, scathing exposé on the city’s restaurant scene in Jongno and Honmachi (本町), a major shopping and entertainment district along a major thoroughfare bordering today’s Myeongdong. It described ordinary diners facing overpriced scraps and scams, while Japanese and Korean collaborator elites with money or connections went to exclusive spots for liquor and feasts, highlighting both the corruption of wartime society and the everyday struggles of those left outside.

The accompanying photo shows a line of men waiting in line in front of a sign saying "本日売切中候", or "sold out today".

TL;DR: In April 1945, Seoul’s Japanese daily Keijō Nippō blasted restaurants in Honmachi and Jongno for gouging prices, serving lousy food, and only letting in elites with connections. Ordinary diners were turned away or scammed with fake charges and watered-down booze. The paper claimed “nine out of ten” places were frauds and demanded state-run canteens to feed the city fairly.

[Translation]

Gyeongseong Ilbo (Keijo Nippo) April 23, 1945

Restaurants: Trampled in Quality and Quantity (Daytime)
Resentment over the connections-only drinking scene (Nighttime)
Sunday Paper Inspection

These are the times we live in. Nobody expects to eat their fill or drink plenty of liquor, yet even a fraction of that modest wish is rarely satisfied when one walks around the restaurants of Seoul day or night. Displeasure, indignation, and despair—these are the only words that fit the present state of these establishments.

Some voices in the streets are already saying, “They should all be shut down.” If so, then shut them down. If not, at least operate them with some semblance of honest business. That is why this Sunday inspection turns once more to the restaurants.

Honmachi Area

As readers saw in a previous letter to this paper, daytime meals are abysmal—no need to belabor the point. Only those who wander from shop to shop tasting the food can truly grasp it. At its worst, there is the case of a certain restaurant near the police station, whose lunches are so deplorable they defy comment. A careful comparison with the official fixed prices would surely reveal profiteering severalfold. That such a deplorable state of affairs exists even in the vicinity of the very police station that ought to be enforcing the rules shows plainly what can be expected of other shops

Worse still, it is not just that customers are served fraudulent meals; the proprietors act as though they are “allowing” one to eat, with sullen faces, rather than serving them. Not every place is so bad—there are a few conscientious shops, but they are like oases in a desert. The situation is beyond words. So let us leave the daytime scene aside and look at the nighttime scene.

Restaurants fall broadly into two classes: so-called “elite dining” (snow-grade) and “dining for the masses” (moon-grade).

• Snow-grade: with tatami rooms, charging about 1 yen in the morning, 1 yen 50 sen at lunch, and up to 3 yen at night.
• Moon-grade: ordinary eateries, charging about 80 sen in the morning, 1 yen at lunch, and up to 1 yen 50 sen at night.

Within Honmachi precinct there are 170 restaurants, of which 25 are elite-grade and the rest are for the masses. Each employs 2–4 workers, including waitresses and cooks.

Yet in all these many restaurants and with so many women employed, one still cannot enjoy even a single bottle of liquor in peace. But that is when one has at least something to drink. Too often one goes from door to door in vain looking for anything to drink. The wasted time is regrettable, but consider the exhausted industrial soldiers who want at least one drink before returning home—no wonder they persist. Still, about 90 percent of establishments operate on “connections only”: unless you are a familiar patron, you are turned away.

What governs these connections? Money, goods, and power. Waitresses and proprietors compete to attract nouveau riche customers with thick wallets. Salaried men, living on modest monthly wages, will never be of interest to them. Tricks abound: selling black-market foodstuffs at exorbitant prices only to familiar customers, brusquely dismissing strangers by claiming that everything is “sold out,” or by scrutinizing clothing—telling someone without kyahan cloth leggings to go home. Thus, see how a waitress working only one or two hours a night can earn 500 to 1,000 yen a month.

What of the wartime emergency measures that were supposed to stamp out such entertainments? Yet the waitresses still seat themselves proudly at customers’ sides, pouring their drinks. And once you are inside, the dishonesty of the food served leaves no doubt—nine out of ten establishments are sheer fraud in every respect. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say so. And what of the local police precinct that turns a blind eye to this situation?

Jongno Area

What of enforcement here? Out of 48 restaurants, how many conduct business conscientiously? When the wartime emergency decrees swept the entertainment districts a year ago, a rule was laid down in the Jongno district: with every bottle of beer or sake, one dish costing no more than 70 sen. Where has that initial rule gone? Suspicious “set meals” have appeared, costing 1 yen 50 sen, 2 yen, 3 yen, climbing endlessly, while the quality and quantity of the food deteriorate.

If there are no ingredients, then why not just serve none? People can drink without side dishes. Everyone understands that proprietors cannot get by without serving food, but the reality is harsher: they profiteer off each bottle as though it were gold.

One example: the customer is told, “The set meals are sold out, but would you care to at least have a beer?” The customer happily agrees. Yet when the bill arrived, there it was: a charge of 2 yen 50 sen for the set meal. If drinking bars mirror the state of society, then morality has truly collapsed. It is truly heartbreaking.

Other examples abound. Even after a short walk one runs into two shops that keep the front doors locked tight and conduct business only through hidden back entrances, invisible to newcomers. What would happen if an air raid warning were given? In one place, what they called brandy was scarcely enough for two cups, yet sold for 1 yen 20 sen—with food supposedly included. Elsewhere, one could not tell whether hot water had been poured into sake or sake into hot water. As for makgeolli, one had to spend nearly ten yen before feeling any effect. A so-called ‘bottle’ of sake contained barely six cups’ worth. The list is endless.

A Call for Public Eateries

In conclusion: between Honmachi and Jongno there are 218 restaurants. But not all open daily; they cannot operate properly because the rations are too small. Many exhaust a month’s rations in two or three days. Further ration cuts are expected. Yet even such shops still keep staff. The only solution is to swiftly switch to publicly run national restaurants. Reduce the number by half or two-thirds, but run them properly and serve lunch and dinner under a ration ticket system. Abolish meals at inns so that travelers eat at the national restaurants. If the national restaurants are managed by region and time slots, then it should be doable. Seoul could manage about fifty such restaurants.

When designating national restaurants, do not rely on past achievements; entrust them only to those proprietors who are truly conscientious. In this age of scarcity, only with careful planning and bold policy can the diet of 1.2 million residents be safeguarded.

(Photo: a view of a restaurant in the city)

[Transcription]

京城日報 1945年4月23日

食堂：質、量で（公）蹂躙（昼）
（夜）ああ怨めし情実の酒
日曜紙上査察

こういう時世である。腹一ぱい食べ、多くの酒を飲もうという欲張った気持ちは毛頭ないのであるが、現在京城府内の食堂を昼夜歩き廻ってみてもこの気持の十分の一でも果して充たしてくれる店があるであろうか。不愉快、憤慨、そして絶望という文字はまさにこれら食堂に投げかけてやりたいのが偽らざる現状である。

全部廃店すべしという巷の声も聞かないではない。廃店するなら廃店し、やるならやるで、もっと何とか善良な営業から考えてもよさそうなものである。あえてここに日曜査察として繰り返し白羽の矢を食堂部門に向けた所以である。

本町界隈：過日の本紙『的』における投書にみるごとく昼食の粗雑さはここに再びくどくどしく列記するまでもない。食べ歩き廻った者のみが分かることであるが、甚だしいのになると所もあろうに警察署附近の某食堂などの昼食に至っては全く呆れはてて論ずるに足らずと言いたい。綿密に公定価と照合して計算したら恐らく数層倍の暴利は間違いない。取り締まるべき警察署の附近に於いてすらかかる歎かわしい状態であるから、他店は推して知るべしである。それもそういうインチキ甚だしいものを客に食べて貰うのではなくて、食べさしてやるという仏頂面した営業者に及んでは言語道断である。勿論全部が全部というのではない。中には良心的な店もある。それも砂漠の中のオアシスのような有様である。お話にならない。昼はさておいて夜間に覗いてみよう。

大体食堂は二つに分かれている。所謂高級と大衆向との二つである。業者側からいうと雪級（高級）と月級（大衆向）である。雪級とは店内に座敷などを有している店で定まっている。料理値段は朝一円、昼一円五十銭、夜三円以内。
月級はその他の大衆向食堂で、料理値段を朝八十銭、昼一円、夜一円五十銭以内となっている。本町署管内で食堂は百七十軒。その中高級二十五軒、残りが全部大衆向である。

そこに平均運び女及び調理人など従業員が一軒二人乃至四人の割で使用されている。これら多くの食堂であり、多くの女が使われていながら、一本の酒も中々愉快に飲めない。まだ何とか飲めるならよい。数軒の入口を叩き廻って徒労に帰する場合が余りにも多い。その浪費する時間も惜しいが、一日の勤労に疲れた産業戦士たちがせめて一本の酒でも呑んで帰りたい気持を汲めば無理もないのである。顔見知りのお得意さんでなければ絶対に入れないという情実営業が約九割占めているのであるから、ただ普通の通りががりの人が飲めないのは当然である。

情実営業を支配するものは他でもない。金と物と権力である。少しでも多くの金を客から求めんがために業者はじめ運び女はふんだんに札ビラを切る成金的な紳士の獲得に躍起となるのである。だから月に幾ばくかの給料を貰って生活している所謂サラリーマンなる者は永久的にこれら業者の眼中には入らないわけだ。情実営業にも色々と手がある。業者が闇で物資を仕入れて見知りの客と黙約し、法外な値で売り捌く。知らない者は真向から『売り切れ』と言い切って追い返す。売り切れというのがバツが悪ければじろじろと客の服装を見て、脚絆を巻いていないから御帰りなさいという手もある。だから見よ、夜一時間か二時間しか働かない運び女の収入が一ヶ月千円から五百円を下らないのだ。

さらに運び女は堂々とお客の傍らに侍り、お酌をする、あの享楽面に下された決戦非常措置は一体何のための措置であったであろうか。一たん店に入ってみても出す料理の不正、すべての点からみて業者の九割が全然出たらめであるとの断定をして過言ではあるまい。またかかる食堂の現状を看過している所轄署はどうしたことか。

鐘路界隈：所轄署の取締はどうした。四十八軒の食堂のうち良心的な営業方法をとっている店は果して何軒あろう。遊興街に決戦非常措置の旋風が吹いてここに一年ビール、酒を問わず一本につき七十銭以下の料理一皿という最初の規定（鐘路所轄下）はどこへ吹っ飛んだのか。怪しげな定食が続々と現れ一円五十銭、二円、三円と辿りつくところを知らず、それに伴って料理は量質ともに悪くなって行く。材料がないならないでいい。肴なしで酒が飲めないものでもない。勿論承知しておる。料理をださなくちゃ業者はやって行けない。だが現状はそんな生易しいものでない。かんびん一本を虎の子に暴利を貪る。なかにこんなのがあった。

『定食は切れているがビールだけでも飲みますか』と、お客は喜んだ。だが後から勘定書をもらうとちゃんと定食二円五十銭とつけてある。酒場が世相を反映するものとすれば巷はこんなにも道義に欠けているのか。嘆かわしくなる。表門を頑丈な錠で閉めてしまい、初め行った人間には到底探されそうもない裏門を専用に営業している店もちょっと歩いてみただけで二軒ぶっつかった。警報でもあったらどうするのだろう。ある店ではブランデーと称して盃二杯にもならぬ量を一円二十銭で売っていた。そのほかに料理がつく、また酒にお湯をいれたのか、お湯に酒をいれたのかわからぬ代物もある。マッカリなどでも十円位は飲まないと酔いが廻って来ない。とっくり一本というのが盃に六杯分しかはいっていない。数えあげればいくらでもある。

出でよ公営食堂

結論：食堂は本町と鐘路で二百十八軒である。だが全部が毎日やっているわけではない。配給量が少ないため満足にやれない。甚だしい店は一ヶ月分を二、三日間で売ってしまう。これから先も減配は覚悟しなければならぬ。だがそういう店も依然として従業員がいる。一刻も早く公営の国民食堂に切り替えよ。いまの半分にも三分の一にも減らしてしっかりした食堂をつくり昼食、夜食を切符制にする。そして旅館など食事を全廃して旅行者は食堂で食べる、地域別、時間別にすれば出来ないことではない。そうすれば五十軒位でも京城はやって行ける。そして公営食堂の選定にあたっては決して過去の実績によらずあくまで良心的な業者に委かすことが必要がある。乏しい食糧事情だ。緻密な計画と果敢なる施策で百二十万の食生活を護りぬこう。【写真＝街の食堂全景】

Source: National Library of Korea, Digital Newspaper Archive 

See also: Imperial Japanese and Korean collaborator elite partied in brothels and luxury restaurants while ordinary Koreans starved in wartime Seoul, early 1945 (link)