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Strategies & Market Trends : China Warehouse- More Than Crockery -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: RealMuLan who wrote (3335)7/11/2004 8:07:44 PM
From: BubbaFred  Respond to of 6370
 
Restaurant a slice of China's history
Duck from Beijing's Quan Jude has fed premiers, presidents, actors and dictators for the past 140 years

By Ching-Ching Ni
Tribune Newspapers: Los Angeles Times
Published July 11, 2004

BEIJING -- George H.W. Bush. Yasser Arafat. Fidel Castro. Kim Jong Il. These are only a few of the luminaries who have eaten at Quan Jude, China's legendary roast-duck restaurant.

Far less known is Yang Zongman, a compact, serious 54-year-old woman, who is an assistant manager at the government-owned culinary landmark. Standing next to the restaurant's tall, animated hostesses in their slinky evening dresses, she might be mistaken for a midlevel manager hopelessly behind the times.

But Yang isn't likely to leave the restaurant any time soon. She is the great-great-granddaughter of the man who opened Quan Jude in 1864 as a tiny family restaurant.

"Many guests ask to see the descendant of the original owners," said Yang, whose business card includes the word "descendant" as if it were a job title. "I work almost 365 days a year. A lot of our steady customers come because of me."

Yang's story, and the story of Quan Jude, in many ways reflects the ups and downs of China's business enterprises over the past 14 decades.

Yang's great-great-grandfather Yang Quanren was a small-time peddler who sold live poultry in the market at the foot of the walled city where Chinese emperors lived. One day, a store selling dried fruit went out of business. Yang Quanren seized the opportunity to open a small restaurant.

He soon added roast duck to his repertoire.

When he died, his children took over. They put new dishes on the menu, perfected the open-pit roasting style and turned Quan Jude into a full-fledged restaurant and one of the best-known names in old Beijing.

Business ebbed and flowed as China made the transition from centuries of imperial rule to a wobbly republic and years of civil war. By the late 1940s, the economy had collapsed and the streets were all but empty of potential customers.

Communist saviors

According to official accounts, it was the communists who saved Quan Jude from extinction.

After Mao Tse-tung's army took over China in 1949, his new government abolished all private property. Restaurants were no exception, although initially, officials called Quan Jude a "joint venture" between the public and private sectors.

In 1952, Yang Zongman's father, Yang Fulai, became the assistant manager in charge of Quan Jude's daily operations. His boss was a communist, who monitored the activities of his new partner and the political leanings of the staff.

Business started to increase. But then the radical Cultural Revolution started in 1966, and Quan Jude became a target of the attack on traditions.

Yang Fulai was branded a capitalist and was banished to the countryside to raise pigs. Guilty by association, Yang Zongman, too, was sent away. Her destination was the frozen northwest.

"I was only 17," Yang Zongman recalled. "We did the dirtiest work and slept in a pigsty. I saw no hope in sight."

That life lasted 10 years. Thinking she might never again go home, she married her brigade leader and gave birth to two children on the farm.

Duck diplomacy

As the Yang family languished in obscurity, Chinese Premier Chou En-lai was turning the roast-duck restaurant into his own unofficial political banquet hall.

In the early days of the People's Republic, the Chinese capital lacked sophisticated restaurants to service the catering needs of its new leaders. Ever the graceful host and charming politician, Chou saw the diplomatic potential in the traditional Peking duck.

According to official accounts, Chou often took specially prepared duck from Quan Jude to entertain guests on his overseas trips. Comedian Charlie Chaplin was said to have tasted the Chinese delicacy in Geneva in 1954. Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh received a special delivery of the dish in the 1960s while recovering from illness in Hanoi.

And then there was Henry Kissinger.

President Richard Nixon's special envoy went to China in 1971 to begin secret discussions that eventually led to a detente between the United States and China. According to a Chinese tale, a 12-course lunch featuring duck from Quan Jude helped put Kissinger at ease during the first encounter with Chinese leaders. Chou personally showed Kissinger how to wrap the Chinese crepe around the thinly sliced meat.

The next year, Nixon made his historic trip to China to normalize relations.

Yang Zongman said, "Who knew our little duck restaurant could also play a role in global politics?"

Chou's duck legacy continued as the nation opened to the outside world, with Quan Jude playing a special role as the culinary face of new China.

As a result, the old storefront was no longer big enough for the job. In 1979, the government opened a six-story banquet hall designed to accommodate the swelling ranks of the restaurant's international visitors.

With China's economy rising, another branch was later opened to meet the expanding tastes of the country's emerging middle class. Customers poured in for a bite of old Beijing. Today, China has 51 restaurants bearing Quan Jude's gold-on-black logo. Together they serve about 3 million ducks a year.

chicagotribune.com



To: RealMuLan who wrote (3335)7/12/2004 1:19:11 PM
From: RealMuLan  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 6370
 
Grinding The Rust Off China's Northeast
Beijing aims to revive the region by dumping state factories for software, tourism -- even organic farms

It has been a long downhill slide for China's industrial northeast. The region, first developed by colonial Japan, was championed by Mao Zedong, who worked with his Soviet allies to build sprawling mines and gleaming factories churning out coal, chemicals, steel, trucks, ships -- in short, everything that an industrializing communist powerhouse needed. The region's cities were showcases of the new workers' state, with leafy parks and "cultural palaces" for opera and dance performances. Workers in the northeastern provinces of Heilongjiang, Jilin, and Liaoning were among the most favored in China, earning hefty salaries and benefits. By the 1980s the northeast accounted for nearly one-fifth of China's industrial production, although it was home to just 8% of its citizens. Advertisement

These days, all that seems so, well, 20th century. Many of those once-shiny factories are rusting hulks. The coddled workers? More than 28 million of them have been laid off in the past five years. Real unemployment tops 20%. In the far-northern city of Harbin, grubby men loiter on street corners, soaking up the coal-scented air and looking for day labor. In nearby Daqing two years ago, thousands of them took to the streets to protest unpaid pensions and layoffs.

TIP THE SCALES
As China has moved toward a market economy over the past quarter-century, the northeast has fallen further and further behind dynamic coastal provinces such as Shanghai and Guangdong. Today the northeast accounts for just 9% of industrial production. The region "fell behind because of the market reforms," says Zhang Juwei, deputy director of the Institute of Population & Labor Economics at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences.

Now, Beijing wants to tip the scales back. In a campaign that echoes the "Go West" initiative -- launched five years ago to promote development of the rural west -- there's a new drive called "Revitalize the Northeast." Officials want to restructure, merge, and sell off state enterprises and to encourage industries such as software, tourism, and even organic farming. Although the west is far from forgotten, much of the attention has shifted to the northeast. Beijing is even ushering in foreign officials, such as U.S. Commerce Secretary Donald L. Evans, to give the region a boost. "Economic progress here in the old industrial base will create more jobs and opportunities," Evans said on a June visit to Harbin.

The plan has powerful backers. Premier Wen Jiabao is spearheading the drive. He and President Hu Jintao are committed to creating opportunities for residents of China's impoverished hinterlands. Also important: If the region continues to stagnate, labor unrest could boil over. The leadership "can't ignore it," says Cheng Li, a political science professor at Hamilton College in New York. "Unemployed workers feel lots of resentment toward the rich, coastal cities."

The plan to defuse this tension is largely an exercise in labor arbitrage. China is eager to sell investors the services of well-educated workers who earn a third what those in Shenzhen do. After decades of state support, infrastructure in the resource-rich region is still good, and some manufacturers might be competitive if they could shed their welfare burdens and restructure their debts. Local governments desperate for investment often provide land for next to nothing.

The area's problems, though, are vast. Some 70% of production in the three provinces remains in the hands of the state, compared with less than 20% in Guangdong. Local companies remain saddled with pension obligations and nonproductive assets such as schools and hospitals. The political culture is among the most corrupt in China. And local officials are unsophisticated in dealings with the outside world, especially when compared with rivals in boomtowns to the south. "While local governments are interested in promoting investment, they aren't always sure how to get information out," says Emory Williams, a vice-chairman of the American Chamber of Commerce in China.

Those hurdles don't faze Beijing. So far the National Development & Reform Commission has identified some 100 projects it wants to pursue in shipbuilding, autos, petrochemicals, and other fields. Total cost: $7.3 billion. While much of that will come from Beijing, local governments will also pitch in, and foreign investors are being asked to join the party. In June more than 100 top Hong Kong and Macao businesspeople visited northeastern companies such as a machine-tool factory, an auto maker, and a food processor.

There will be plenty of restructuring, too. In May, Harbin Aeroplane Industrial Group merged with Dong'an Group, a Harbin maker of automobile engines. The new company, a behemoth with $1.53 billion in total assets and 26,000 employees, plans to shed noncore businesses and streamline the labor force. The merger "was made to echo the state's determination to revitalize" the northeast, Heilongjiang Governor Zhang Zuoji told the local press on July 1. In June three big steelmakers merged, and a megamerger that would combine several additional steelmakers may be in the works, says Yong Zhiqiang, an analyst at Shanghai-based Haitong Securities Co. "The bigger the group, the stronger they are in negotiating" raw-material purchases and sales, he says.

In some cases, Beijing has deemed local industries beyond salvation and is encouraging local governments to diversify. Take the coal-mining city of Jixi, which has been in the national spotlight in recent months following disastrous mine and steel accidents that killed scores of workers. City officials want to promote organic farming and woo tourists to the expansive forests and pristine lakes nearby. "Jixi will be no longer just a city of coal, but also a city of green environment and tourism," says Vice-Mayor Li Jiuyun.

China is also hoping to bank on the region's proximity to Japan and Korea. So far that has only happened in the port city of Dalian, a rare pocket of affluence where scores of Japanese companies have invested. Beyond Dalian, the northeast has attracted just a few foreign investors. Volkswagen and Deere & Co. are there, and Anheuser Busch Cos. says it will buy into a Harbin brewery. More may follow, though, as Revitalize the Northeast picks up steam. Multinational manufacturers "should take a serious look at making an acquisition in the northeast," says Kim Woodard, chairman of Javelin Investments, a consulting firm.

Even without foreign investment, the government is determined to reverse the northeast's slide. That is "crucial to China's future development," says political journalist and Wen biographer Ma Ling. From the streets of rust-belt cities such as Harbin, it may look like a mighty challenge -- but it's one that China and its leaders can't afford to ignore.

By Dexter Roberts in Harbin
businessweek.com