彰化楊全故居

Changhua Yang Quan Mansion

March 6th, 2015

During the Japanese colonial era the liquor trade in Taiwan—along with tobacco, camphor, and several other goods—was tightly controlled by the Monopoly Bureau. Alcohol was sold exclusively through a network of authorized distributors, many of whom were well-connected local Taiwanese who became quite wealthy, as this crumbling yet majestic ruin in the back alleys of Changhua City might suggest. Located along a small laneway just off Mínshēng Road (民生路), this two-storey red-brick mansion is the former residence of Yang Quan (楊全), who held the liquor concession for Changhua until 1936. He inherited it from his elder brother Yang Fan (楊番), who died in 1924; sources vary on whether Yang Quan took over immediately or only in 1925 or 1926.

An abandoned mansion in back alley Changhua City.

A sidelong view of the old mansion back in 2015.

An inscription is faintly visible over the main entrance.

A stylized emblem representing the family name appears on the gable of the building, and a poetic inscription reading Yángliǔfēng (楊柳風) appears over the main entrance. It translates to something along the lines of “wind in the willows”, while also incorporating the Yang family name. The mansion doubled as the wholesale distribution depot for liquor in Changhua, which earned its owner the local nickname “Liquor Quan” (燒酒全)¹.

Stepping through the main entrance reveals this scene. This corridor leads straight through to the back of the building with windows and doors on either side.

Beyond the façade the conditions of the interior are completely decrepit. It is possible to climb to the second floor along a rickety old staircase but there’s nothing to see up there—the roof has caved in. Rotting wood lays strewn about and mosquitos pour out of every nook and crevice lusting after human blood. This place has the appearance of a home that has been abandoned for decades.

A little deeper into the structure the extent of the decay is more apparent. There was also a second floor to explore but nothing seemed safe to stand on.

The remnants of a calendar that once covered this darkened window. The year, at top, reads 1977.

Mantras line the walls of an inner chamber.

Peering up at the roof coming apart at the eaves.

Only about half of the interior was open to exploration when I first visited in 2015. Most of the west side of the building had collapsed inward, covering whatever artifacts may have remained in a pile of wooden debris and rubble. Brambles, vines, and stunted trees grow out of this abscess: new life in the ruins of old.

Through a keyhole, darkly. The room beyond could not be reached.

I’ve been learning to read between the lines when exploring colonial era residences in Taiwan, many of which were abandoned early into the many years of KMT authoritarian rule. You have to stop and wonder: how would you figure KMT officials might treat locals who prospered under the Japanese? As with Jùkuíjū (聚奎居), another colonial era residence in central Taiwan, the owners of this mansion may have suffered hard times under the new regime².

Not much clearance in this cramped laneway. There isn’t very much room to capture the impressive scale of the place.

Half-demolished on a return visit in 2016.

When I first published this piece not long after my first visit in 2015 there was almost nothing written about it online³. This has changed in subsequent years. The owner’s descendants gathered in June 2016 and resolved to demolish the mansion; the Changhua County Cultural Affairs Bureau halted the work that July by declaring the building a provisional monument, but the review committee declined to grant full monument status in October, citing the loss of the building’s integrity. By the time the county listed what was left as a historic building at the end of 2017, formally registering it the following year, roughly three quarters of the mansion had been demolished. The surviving façade and walls now stand braced by a steel frame, awaiting a restoration and reuse plan.

The nickname uses sio-tsiú (燒酒), an everyday Taiwanese Hokkien word for liquor, and not the Japanese shōchū (焼酎) it superficially resembles. ↩
The bloody 228 Incident was a direct result of the enforcement of the monopoly system (which was not fully abolished until 2002). Incidentally, Taiwan Beer (台灣啤酒) is still manufactured by the corporate successor to the state-run monopoly. ↩
In the original version of this post I lamented the fact that I could only find a single source for this entry—and it was hosted on Xuite, a group blogging service that went offline around 2022. I’ve included the link in this footnote on the off chance it can still be found via the Wayback Machine. ↩

Warning: this location is abandoned, hazardous, or otherwise neglected and may be unsafe and even dangerous! Exercise appropriate precautions when visiting.

警告：此處已廢棄或長期無人管理，可能存在潛在危險。造訪時請務必提高警覺，並做好相關安全防護措施。