Muggings in the Land of Morning Calm

A crowded street in Seoul in the early part of the 20th century. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, foreigners traveling about Korean streets, even in darkness, were fairly safe from crime. There were occasional scuffles and murders, but these were generally incidents in which both the perpetrators and victims were foreigners. However, there were some exceptions ― especially when it came to lesser crimes like muggings.

In late October 1897, a Western woman traveling through the Korean section of Jemulpo (part of modern Incheon) in a palanquin noticed a rather large young Korean man keeping pace with her chair. At first she thought his interest in her was "actuated by that curiosity [of foreigners ― particularly of women] which had not died out altogether even in the [open] ports."

However, it wasn't curiosity that compelled the youth to follow her but rather greed. According to a letter from a resident of Jemulpo and published in the English-language newspaper in Seoul, The Independent: "Suddenly the [young man] reached over and seized the lady's pocketbook and had it not been for her presence of mind in gripping it tight and screaming, he would have got away. In the confusion which resulted, the boy managed to escape."

The unidentified woman was lucky but others weren't as fortunate. Two weeks later, in Seoul, a Western woman was peacefully sitting under a tree at Gyeonghui Palace. This palace was better known to the Western residents of Seoul as "The Mulberry Palace" ― due to the large number of mulberry trees planted during the previous decade in a failed attempt to establish a large-scale silk industry in the capital ― and was a popular place for the foreign community to seek relief from the heat of summer or the stuffy confines of their own residences and compounds.

Carrying logs through a small street in Seoul in the early 20th century. Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

While the woman was sitting, enjoying the brisk autumn weather and brilliant fall colors, a young Korean approached her and asked if she could tell him what time it was. Without thinking much about it, she pulled out her watch and held it so that he could read the watch's dials. Suddenly, he snatched the watch from her hand and "made his escape through the openings of the Palace wall."

The woman was devastated. The double-cased gold watch with chain was engraved with the initials "K.M.A." and the date "1890." In addition, she later reported that her "seal and pencil case" ― which was inlaid with precious stones ― had also been taken by the youth. The incident was reported but the authorities were not able to apprehend the young offender. Frustrated, the woman placed an ad in The Independent in which she offered a reward of $30 to anyone who could return her goods. This was a fairly large reward when one compares the daily wage of a Korean miner at the OCMC (an American-owned gold mining concession in northern Korea) was only 25 cents. Despite the reward, the woman apparently never recovered her possessions.

According to the Jemulpo resident, "the prevalence of this kind of sneak thieving is worthy of note." Usually, Korean thieves roamed about in gangs and spread ruin and terror in their tracks and were "as bad as bad can be." Generally, lone Korean thieves did not "grab things from a pedestrian" and he surmised that this new method had "been learned probably from foreigners."

What evidence he used to support his views is unclear. At the end of the 19th century, Jemulpo had a large transient population of sailors from merchant ships and naval vessels as well as itinerant merchants ― not to mention, passengers from the steamships ― so it is not unreasonable to assume there were muggings.

Incidents involving Russians did infrequently appear in the newspapers and magazines. On January 29, 1904, officials from the Korean Foreign Office complained to the Russian legation of "the disorderly actions of Russian soldiers in the street, who caught Korean women and forcibly kissed and otherwise insulted them." The Russian legation assured the Korean officials they would take "steps to stop the outrages," but apparently not soon enough.

The Royal Italian Circus in Seoul in June 1920. Robert Neff Collection

On February 6, two Russian soldiers allegedly seized and insulted a woman near a section of Seoul in which many Japanese resided. "A crowd gathered and assumed a most threatening attitude" and the Russians drew their weapons to keep the crowd at bay. Soon, some Korean gendarmes arrived and, "after a brisk fight," succeeded in disarming the Russians and escorted them to the Russian legation. What punishment ― if any ― they received is unclear, but within days the soldiers were needed as the Russo-Japanese War began.

Some crimes associated with Russians were a little tenuous. In May 1898, Kim Hong-gyoung committed a number of "lawless deeds" against residents of Seoul. He wore Western-style clothing and identified himself as a naturalized Russian ― he also later claimed to be the brother of a powerful Korean official ― but the authorities were unimpressed and he was imprisoned.

In October 1910, The Great Russian Circus (self-proclaimed as "the greatest circus of the world") arrived in Seoul and was greeted with tremendous excitement and anticipation. According to The Seoul Press ― an English-language newspaper ― it was "the first foreign circus" to visit Seoul and attracted large crowds of visitors. It was, declared the newspaper, the "chief subject of conversation among the townsfolk."

The circus lived up to its expectation: "The wonderful intelligence shown by some beautiful horse, which performed many remarkable feats under the command of Mr. Burrousky, elicited the loudest applause of the audience, while three performing dogs and the clown gave no end of merriment."

Too soon, however, the circus was gone, and so were some other things. Someone broke into Rondon & Company's warehouse in Seoul and made off with a number of items which were then sold to a Chinese merchant for 3.50 yen who ― apparently ― informed the authorities and the thief was arrested. The thief was a Chinese man who had been formerly employed by The Great Russian Circus.

A European visitor to the Korean section of Jemulpo in 1901. Robert Neff Collection

The only muggings during this period that were perpetrated by Westerners that I can find (I am sure there are some out there but I just couldn't find them) took place in June 1908. Complaints of "robberies in broad daylight by foreigners" began to appear in Jemulpo on June 24. The attacks took place in the areas of Jemulpo frequented mainly by Chinese and Koreans, the total loss to the victims was nearly 2,000 yen.

Authorities employed "every possible means," including the dispatch of undercover detectives who quickly observed three Westerners wandering about the Korea section of the port. Through some inquiries, the detectives learned the three men had arrived from China on June 23 and were staying at an inn in the Chinese section of the port. On June 26, the men moved to the better-equipped and more expensive Steward's Hotel. The following morning, the detectives detained one of the men for questioning and then handed him over to the British consulate which soon released him.

The other two men, Snyder and Greenberg, were soon apprehended and discovered to be Russian citizens. They were detained by the Russian consul until their trial on July 14 ― witnessed by the foreign consuls, the Japanese Resident and Vice-resident ― and were found guilty. They were soon transported to Vladivostok where they were ― hopefully ― severely punished.

As in the past, Korea remains a fairly safe place (in regards to violent crime) for foreign residents ― even at night. Go out and have fun but stay aware and don't become the exception.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.