A Century of the Kuo Family

Written by Peter Li-Chang Kuo

In 1926, many significant events took place. Kuo Biao, the richest man in Tainan, assisted the Taiwan Governor-General’s Office in completing the Tainan Canal, which was opened to navigation and became an important symbol of the city’s modernization. In the same year, his third son, Kuo Kun-Cheng — my father — was born. That year also marked the death of the Taishō Emperor and the enthronement of the Shōwa Emperor.

According to the statement of my grandmother, Kuo Chen Shu-Chen: my grandfather devoted both financial resources and personal effort to assist the Japanese in completing numerous major infrastructure projects, including land reclamation of the Taijiang Inner Sea, canal construction, reservoirs, and light rail systems. In 1926, to celebrate the enthronement of Emperor Shōwa and the birth of his son, he hosted a grand banquet stretching from the canal to the He-Mei headquarters on Ximen Road, with continuous feasting and decorations, entertaining guests from all over. This scene reflected how, in colonial-era Tainan, local life, political atmosphere, and personal destiny were often deeply intertwined.

Fig 1: The Kuo family of seven in harmonious happiness

For the Kuo family, the year 1926 was not only the beginning of a new life but also mirrored the completion of major local infrastructure. The opening of the canal symbolized a new urban order and industrial logistics system, while the birth of a child marked the continuation of the family line. Major historical events and private lives coincided, forming a memory embedded with a strong sense of the era.

However, this timeline did not proceed peacefully. In September 1936, the militarist Kobayashi Seizō was appointed Governor-General of Taiwan and began aggressively promoting three major governing policies: “Japanization (Kominka), industrialization, and the transformation of Taiwan into a base for southward expansion.” Kobayashi’s predecessor, Nakagawa Kensō, had been a sworn brother of Kuo Biao. At its peak, Kuo Biao’s business network extended north to Japan, west to mainland China, south to India, and as far as Paris, France.

Admiral Kobayashi took an interest in Kuo Piao’s He-Mei shipping fleet and offered him a “major business opportunity” to transport military supplies, including so-called “Comfort Women.” Unexpectedly, Kuo Biao refused the offer on the grounds that it was "immoral." This refusal deeply insulted the proud Japanese militarists. Compounding the situation, the son of a servant raised in Kuo Biao’s household incited further hostility. As a result, in 1937, Kobayashi ordered the confiscation of Kuo Biao’s entire estate.

According to my father (known as A-Kun): “I was born into a wealthy family. However, when I was in the fifth grade, my life took a dramatic turn. I was suddenly driven out of our family mansion in 6-Chome, Ximending. My mother, my older brother, and I were forced to move into a shabby house in a narrow alley on Chong-An Street. We were so impoverished that we could not even pay my school tuition. My Japanese teacher slapped me and rebuked me, saying, ‘You little brat! Aren’t you Kuo Biao’s son? How is it that you can’t even afford your tuition?’” To make matters worse, the twin grandsons of a servant — my former companions — cut off ties with me.”

A-Kun described his fifth and sixth grade years as the most painful of his life. After graduating from Baogong School, he apprenticed at a dental clinic on Mi Street, learning to make dental molds and dentures. After three years of training, just as he was ready to begin his career, at the age of 15 — in 1941 — he was conscripted into the navy. It was said that Zero fighter pilots were to begin training at age 15 and be deployed at 16.

Before this, his eldest brother had already died from poisoning. His second brother, who had impaired vision in one eye, was conscripted into the army and was later said to have died in the battle of Papua New Guinea. A-Kun himself was assigned to a “Kamikaze unit” — clearly suggesting that someone intended to eradicate the Kuo family line.

According to my grandmother’s recollections, during the Pacific War, with her sons gone, she survived on thin porridge every day. During air raids, the shelters were far away, and Chong’an Street was on a slope; her bound feet made it nearly impossible to move quickly. Every air raid siren brought a sense of impending death. Yet her deepest anguish was the uncertain fate of her sons, who might never return.

In 1941, at just 15 years old, Kuo Kun-Cheng was conscripted into the navy. While this appeared to be standard wartime mobilization, the twin grandsons of the servant were instead sent to study in Tokyo, where they changed their surname to Matsumura and took over Kuo Biao’s property in Setagaya. They never experienced conscription or the fear of life and death separation.

Fortunately, A-Kun’s exceptional craftsmanship saved his life. Had it not been for his second brother’s prior death in the South Pacific, his team leader would not have recommended him to take the entrance exam for the sheet metal division of the Gangshan Naval Air Factory, and he would likely not have survived. It was only because he returned home safely after the war that future generations came to exist.

From this perspective, the completion of the Tainan Canal, the enthronement celebrations of the Shōwa Emperor, and the forced conscription of a young boy are not unrelated historical fragments. Rather, they are intertwined outcomes under the same historical order, demonstrating how local society and family destiny were deeply entangled. This memory reminds us that the modern history of Taiwan is not solely one of development and prosperity, but also one of the heavy costs borne under structures of power.

The Swastika (卍) Floor Tiles of Xiaoyao Garden

Today, after exiting the Kaohsiung MRT, my wife pointed out that the Xinyi Elementary School in front of us was where she had once studied. Behind it stood an elegant wooden structure known as “Xiaoyao Garden” (逍遙園). As we approached, water lilies in the pond seemed to beckon, as if saying, “Irasshaimase (Welcome)!”

Fig 2: Water lilies beckoning from the pond

According to the introduction on site, Xiaoyao Garden, covering more than 200 ping of building, was built in 1940 by the Japanese figure Ōtani Kōzui. Notably, upon entering the main building, one first encounters a large dining hall, followed by a “large air-raid shelter,” reportedly capable of accommodating 180 people. The second floor was constructed relying on the structural strength of this shelter.

Fig 3: The second room upon entry is the large air-raid shelter

In earlier years, I was referred to by Chiang Ching-Kuo as the “father of Taiwan’s precision industry” and was also known as a master of mold-making. As I ran my hand along the washed-stone staircase railing and ascended to the second floor, what caught my attention were the distinctive floor tiles. Among them was a type composed of repeated “swastika” (manji, 卍) motifs interconnected into a continuous pattern. These were not ordinary flat tiles; they required specially made molds filled with clay, glazed, and fired at high temperatures. I was told they belong to the Majolica tile system. Even after 86 years, they still retain a fine luster.

Fig 4: Swastika-pattern (卍) floor tiles

Ōtani Kōzui is said to have been the brother-in-law of Empress Teimei, consort of the Taishō Emperor — thus a relative of the imperial family and a member of the aristocratic class (Kazoku). In 1940, he selected this site on Liuhe Road in Kaohsiung — reportedly nearly two hectares in size — and built Xiaoyao Garden beside a massive tree. The construction used the finest hinoki cypress, and even palm-sized floor tiles came in several varieties, requiring specialized mold craftsmanship and representing high-end products. This raises the question: “Was it still possible to live in such luxury in wartime Taiwan?”

It is known that Ōtani Kōzui was the 22nd head priest of the Honganji branch of Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism and had marital ties with the imperial family. After acquiring land in Dagangpu, Kaohsiung, he established the “Ōtani Farm” along with its central villa, Xiaoyao Garden. The building extensively used Taiwanese cypress, teak, rosewood, and camphor wood, and included spaces such as a dining hall, study, bedrooms, bathroom, storage areas, and an air-raid shelter. This was not merely a residence, but a multifunctional complex integrating agricultural operations, social reception, and wartime refuge.

From the perspective of colonial power structures, Taiwanese society indeed existed within an unequal political and economic environment. Observing the second-floor kitchen and its unusually large vegetable-washing station, one can imagine that their daily life was far from subsisting on thin porridge. Photographs on display further show that the women all appeared well-nourished.

Fig 5: Group photo at Xiaoyao Garden

Ōtani Kōzui constructed Xiaoyao Garden in Kaohsiung during the Pacific War. The architecture adopts a hybrid Japanese-Western style and incorporates a variety of premium woods and diverse floor tiles, reflecting decorative elements imbued with Buddhist symbolism and East Asian auspicious motifs. This case illustrates the unequal distribution of resources between Japanese elites and local Taiwanese society within the wartime colonial context.

Fig 6: Model of Xiaoyao Garden

In Comparison with My Grandmother’s Oral History

Fig 7: My grandmother, Mrs. Kuo Chen Shu-chen (1963)

My grandfather, Kuo Biao, from as early as 1910, undertook major infrastructure projects for the Japanese, including reclaiming the Taijiang Inner Sea, constructing canals, reservoirs, and light rail systems. A striking fact was that “the Japanese did not contribute a single penny.” Kuo Biao financed and executed these works himself.

In 1937, simply because he refused to use his own fleet to transport “Comfort Women” — an immoral practice in violation of international conventions — his entire estate was confiscated by the Japanese military. By 1940, the wife of the once-prominent “richest man in Tainan,” my grandmother Chen Shu-chen, was forced to make a living by "paper cutting," living in a dilapidated alley and surviving on thin porridge. At that time, my eldest uncle had died from poisoning; my second uncle was conscripted into the army and later died in Papua New Guinea; soon after, my father was also conscripted into the navy’s Kamikaze unit. Most strikingly, all of them were required to sign “Voluntary Enlistment Forms.”

During that same period, Ōtani Kōzui lived in remarkable luxury, using only the finest materials in everything.

Fig 8: My father at age 15, a photo upon his “voluntary enlistment”

In her later years, my grandmother lay beside my work desk so that I could care for her closely. She recounted how my grandfather’s vast holdings —“thousands of hectares of land and properties” stretching from Tainan to Kaohsiung — were seized by the Japanese. “They all had property deeds,” she said.

The Japanese mockingly called my grandfather a "Useless Young Master Biao," implying that he was nothing more than a fallen heir living off his family's past wealth. The Japanese authorities even ordered villagers to mark off the land surrounding "Biao's Estate" with straw ropes. Whatever property they enclosed was officially transferred to them, complete with government-issued title deeds, giving the confiscation an appearance of legality.

As a mold-making expert, upon entering Xiaoyao Garden, I immediately noticed the relationship between "materials, molds, and manufacturing methods, and their associated costs." It evoked many memories. Fortunately, after the Nationalist government relocated to Taiwan, the site was preserved and repurposed as Xingren New Village rather than demolished as a remnant of the Japanese colonial era — allowing us today to have a basis for comparison.

My grandparents had painstakingly built up the He-Mei Trading Company, accumulating real estate and wealth over time. Yet, simply because my grandfather refused to engage in immoral business, everything vanished overnight. My father, A-Kun, resented his own father for his entire life. Even though I was deeply moved by my grandmother’s account and did my utmost to repay my grandfather’s debts, A-Kun, who stopped working entirely after the age of 40, remained bitter. I registered him as the owner of Cheng Kuang Metal Processing Factory, Chairman of Baisheng Metal Industrial Co., Ltd., and President of Cheng Kuang Precision Industrial Co., Ltd. Including other companies where he served as a director, the factory sites exceeded 10,000 ping. Yet he still cursed that “Kuo Biao was Tainan's greatest spendthrift."

I still vividly remember Chiang Ching-Kuo’s astonishment during his 1974 visit to Cheng Kuang Company. President Mei Ko-Wang remarked, “Chiang Ching-Kuo specifically instructed the Executive Yuan to take note of the newly emerging precision industry in Tainan.” Although every grain of sand at Cheng Kuang was earned through my own efforts, I placed all glories under A-Kun’s hands, hoping he might find spiritual redemption. Instead, he chose the opposite path.

On March 13, 1979, I founded the “Blackstone Angel Fund” in New York, using modest capital to support entrepreneurs — one of whom later became the fathers of the world’s richest individuals. Yet A-Kun turned himself into a modern-day heart-blind elder (Gu So).

Most astonishingly, on February 21, 1980 — my wedding day — he invited the grandson of a former servant, known as “Kaku Fat Pig,” to serve as my witness. On May 4, he even initiated a “coup,” and not just once. As President of Cheng Kuang Precision Company, he elevated the servant woman — mother of Kaku Fat Pig — to the status of “ancestral elder,” overturning the entire moral order of the Kuo family.

Later, I met Mayor Su Nan-cheng at No. 1 Nanhai Road in Taipei. He told me that the originally planned Zhonghua North Road had to be altered into Zhonghua Road due to Cheng Kuang’s location. The initial plan was to route it along the Yanshui River (Salt River), north of Cheng Kuang Precision's building, but A-Kun insisted it pass along the south side. When I went back to try to persuade him, he demanded NT$30 million. I immediately presented the full amount before him, yet he still chose to demolish half of Cheng Kuang's building. Mr. Wu of nearby Zhenyao Steel Company remarked, “You still have 500 ping left; mine was completely demolished!” The neighborhood was filled with complaints.

Fig 8: The southern building of Cheng Kuang demolished

Standing on the demolished factory site, A-Kun said to me, “Ha, I’ve made an extra NT$40 million! Leave your achievements for future archaeologists to study.”

Fig 9: The tools of money-making now buried beneath Zhonghua Road

A-Kun never escaped the shadow of the family confiscation and the trauma of the Kamikaze experience. He once had the opportunity to become “the richest man in the world.” When he was imprisoned on Xinsheng Street, I started my business; within just eight years, my achievements astonished even the well-informed Chiang Ching-Kuo. By 1979, I had already expanded Cheng Kuang’s operations into the United States. The "Satellite Receiver and Personal Computer(PC)" I developed were scheduled to be launched in 1986, and during that waiting period, we could have acquired 85 hectares of land along the expanding Zhonghua Road corridor. Yet A-Kun chose instead to become a modern-day heart-blind elder (Gu So), offering a puzzling justification: “Cheng Kuang, in your hands, would endanger the world.” A company once highly regarded by both central and local governments in the 1970s was ultimately reduced to a subject of ridicule in Tainan.

Most regrettably, the plan I had developed with Kansas City Mayor Charles Wheeler to build a 10,000-hectare Cheng Kuang Precision New City in Missouri also fell through.

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Tainan Canal since 1926. What, exactly, are we celebrating?

Peter Li-Chang Kuo, the author created Taiwan's Precision Industry in his early years. Peter was a representative of the APEC CEO Summit and an expert in the third sector. He advocated "anti-corruption (AC)/cashless/e-commerce (E-Com)/ICT/IPR/IIA-TES / Micro-Business (MB)…and etc." to win the international bills and regulations.