This content was originally published on RADII; a selection has been reproduced here with permission. More spooky material in store through October.
Wukang Mansion was completed in 1924, designed by Hungarian-Slovak architect László Hudec. It was originally called the Normandie Apartments, inspired by the World War I-era Normandie battleship, reflected in the building’s looming, ship-like presence. It housed Western employees working in Shanghai’s foreign concessions, until 1942, when it was bought up by the daughter of a wealthy Chinese banker. In the years that followed it became a hotspot, and home to a string of celebrities in Shanghai’s booming film and entertainment industry.
But as the years passed by and China’s cultural landscape began to shift, the vibrant building started to sour. With Mao in power, public opinion turned against the once-adored actors and actresses in the mansion. The internationally-minded artists and intellectuals who lived there became targets of the political fervor sweeping the city, and were subject to constant harassment at the hands of their fellow citizens. The tower was renamed Anti-Revisionist Tower by the Red Guards, but locals nicknamed it The Diving Board, after the dozens of suicide jumps that occurred there.
One A-list resident at the time was Shangguan Yunzhu, who rose to fame in the swinging 1940s and was considered one of the most talented and versatile actresses in China. She was also a personal favorite actress of Mao Zedong’s. The mayor of Shanghai set up a private meeting between the two, where Mao told her he was a fan. He was said to have requested to meet with her “in private” many times.
It didn’t sit well with the prevailing cult of personality which held Mao as a savior, idol, or infallible king. Shangguan was badly beaten by followers of Mao’s wife Jiang Qing, and pressed to confess her relationship with the Chairman. At 3:00 AM on the 23rd of November, 1968, Shangguan jumped from her balcony to her death.
On Halloween morning, as I rode to meet my photographer at the mansion, President Xi was in Shanghai, and the roads were completely blocked up by police barricades. I gave up and scanned some money to my taxi driver, jumped out of the unmoving cab, and hopped onto an OFO bike to cover the remaining distance.
The neighborhood and the building itself are both jarringly pleasant. Coffee and flower shops dot the streets on either side, and you can see grandmothers and grandfathers walking small children home from school. I ran into our photographer Edward having a conversation with a smiling older woman visiting from Hong Kong.
“I live in Hong Kong but I’m in Shanghai often,” she told us. “I visit this building every time I’m here, for at least five minutes. I used to go inside but the security guards recognize me now, so I just admire it from the pavement. It’s my favorite building in Asia!”
She seemed happy that two young foreigners also found themselves drawn to the building, like she wanted to share its story with the world. As it turns out, there’s a niche group of László Hudec superfans in China, who visit his buildings regularly and share their experiences with each other on Douban. We realized we’d come across a wu fen — an abbreviation for “Hudec fan” — from Hong Kong, who was thrilled to be in her natural habitat.
“This building used to be the tallest in the area, which is why so many people came here to commit suicide!” she added, smiling, before wishing us goodbye.
Photos by Edward Evenson
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