Why Beijing Vendors Who Built Silk Alley Feel Hung Out to Dry
BEIJING -- Zhu Dingya, a merchant in Beijing's Silk Alley, sees himself as one of China's first entrepreneurs. When he quit a steady job with the Beijing No. 1 Construction Co. to open a stall selling silk clothing and curios to tourists in 1984, he says, "My family was so upset they didn't speak to me for a year."
That didn't stop him, or 147 other merchants, who in two decades have built Silk Alley, an open-air market of makeshift stalls abutting the U.S. Embassy in Beijing's diplomatic district, into one of the city's most popular tourist destinations. Each day, an estimated 10,000 visitors squeeze into its crowded passageways to search for bargains on knockoffs of top designer labels, including fake Prada handbags, North Face parkas and Ralph Lauren polo shirts. The market generates tens of millions of dollars in sales each year.
Now a plan to tear down the strip and move the stalls indoors to a new high-rise mall next door has ignited a battle over Silk Alley's future. The fight pits Communist Party apparatchiks and developers who hope to profit from the move against the market's 148 merchants, who complain they're being forced out of a business they created. Also weighing in is the U.S. Embassy, which views the move as an opportunity to nudge China to crack down on the sale of counterfeit and pirated goods.
The Silk Alley tiff highlights the perils that face many business ventures when they grow too big or successful in China's go-go market economy: Everyone wants a piece of the action.
Crowds make their way past stalls at Beijing's Silk Alley, popular with tourists for inexpensive knockoffs.
"We built this place with our sweat and blood, and now they want to take it away," says Mr. Zhu. An auction for space in the new mall made headlines in early June when five-year leases on some six-square-yard stalls went for as much as about $477,000, making it some of the most expensive commercial real estate in China. Few of the current vendors in the outdoor market bid on the new space. "First, we can't afford it. Second, it's not right," says 58-year-old Zhang Xiuqin, who has teamed up with Mr. Zhu to mobilize merchants against the closing of the outdoor market. After paying taxes and fees, Mr. Zhu and Ms. Zhang say their Silk Alley stalls generate income of about $600 per month -- enough to put them squarely in the middle class but not enough to pay for a spot in the new mall.
The tussle over Silk Alley's future has kicked up boisterous public hearings and exposés in the local press uncovering conflicts of interest. One controversy surrounds Guo Liwen, the Communist Party head of the administrative office that oversees the market. Ms. Guo and her allies have branded the outdoor stalls illegal and decried them as a fire hazard to the local press, while touting how the new mall will "raise up the Silk Alley brand."
Ms. Guo's critics allege that she also stands to gain personally. She is a shareholder in both the property-management company that will collect rent for the new market's developers, and in the company that has registered a trademark for the market's Chinese name. That company has licensed the Silk Alley brand to the developers. Ms. Guo's office declined to comment on the matter.
Silk Alley already is a cash cow for the tiny subdivision of the city government that Ms. Guo runs. It collects $600,000 in management fees and $1.3 million in taxes each year from the vendors. But a new market could generate even more. When completed at year end, the new mall will be able to house more than 1,000 stalls, nearly triple the current number, and also sell jewelry and antiques.
The private merchants allege that Ms. Guo and her allies want to demolish the current market to make room for large buses that will deliver tourists directly to the new mall from hotels.
In June, a local party office announced that it would hold a hearing on Silk Alley's future but canceled it at the last minute when it became clear that angry merchants and representatives from the U.S. Embassy wanted to be heard. Instead, it held a closed meeting of government officials. "A hundred merchants showed up, but they wouldn't let us enter," recalls Mr. Zhu, who eventually elbowed his way inside but wasn't allowed to speak.
But someone else spoke up for the vendors, a local legislator named Li Jiantong. "You can't say the market is illegal," he scolded. "It conformed to every standard when it was first built." Mr. Li should know: In 1985, as an official in charge of the district, he personally approved the establishment of Silk Alley. He put it more bluntly: "The government should not be wiping the b-t of this developer," he quipped, a line that Beijing tabloids reported with delight.
The U.S., meanwhile, sees the squabble as a platform to debate the ethics and legality of allowing the sale of counterfeit goods, an issue that some charge China has been slow to address. In July, the U.S. Embassy issued an open letter saying it expects that any decision regarding Silk Alley's future will consider "the decision's symbolic statement regarding China's commitment to intellectual property." The embassy declined to elaborate. But Joseph Simone, a partner at Baker & McKenzie who is advising the embassy on the issue, is more direct. "People say the market is fun, but hey, they could say the same about prostitution. What these people are doing is illegal," he says.
A recent study commissioned by his law firm put the daily sales value of counterfeit goods at between $181,159 and $301,932, or more than 90% of the market's revenue.
The U.S.'s opposition has confused the vendors. "Most of our customers are Americans," says vendor organizer Ms. Zhang. Among them: former U.S. Trade Representative Charlene Barshefsky, once the country's top official in charge of fighting piracy, who in 1998 surrendered at U.S. Customs 40 pirated Beanie Babies, which she had bought at the market.
The final fate of the original Silk Market remains unclear, awaiting a decision from the district government. Every Thursday before dawn, merchants arrive at the district government office to wait in a long line of aggrieved citizens to voice their complaints.
Ms. Zhang has even imprinted the question: "Do You Like the Silk Alley?" on scrolls of cotton, and invited customers to leave their opinions. "YES!" scrawls one shopper. "I love the Silk Alley and hope it never moves inside."
Meanwhile, tourists continue to flock to the market. On a drizzly morning adjacent to the new Silk Alley's concrete-and-steel shell, Los Angeles-based sculptor Fred Maslavi spent almost $10 for a white "Tommy Hilfiger" sweater, half the price initially offered by the vendor. It was Mr. Maslavi's third trip to Beijing, and he made sure to stop again at Silk Alley.
"I've been to indoor markets, but this is different," he says. "If Silk Alley turns into an indoor market, then it would be just like all the others."
秀水街何去何从 众商家牵肠挂肚
作为北京秀水街(Silk Alley)上的一名商人，朱丁亚(音)自认为是中国第一代企业家。他在1984年就大胆辞去了北京第一建筑公司(Beijing No.1 Construction Company)的稳定工作，开办了一家出售丝绸服装和古玩的旅游商店。提起这段往事，朱丁亚说：“我的家人对此深感失望，整整一年都不理我。”
但这并没有阻止他和另外147名商人勇往直前，他们在这二十年里把秀水街这个紧邻使馆区内美国大使馆的简易露天市场建设为北京最热门的旅游目的地。每天，大约1万名游客穿行在熙熙攘攘的秀水街上，寻觅价廉物美的名牌仿制品，如Prada手提包、NorthFace皮大衣和Ralph Lauren马球衫等。秀水市场的年销售额高达数千万美元。
眼下，一个把秀水市场转移至附近新建大楼的拆迁计划引发了一场关于其前途的激烈争论。这场纷争凸现了中国共产党官僚和想从动迁中渔利的开发商们与在秀水街上起家的148名商人之间的矛盾，后者抱怨说他们将被迫撤出这项他们首创的生意。美国大使馆也插了进来，借机敦促中国政府打击假冒伪劣产品。
秀水街之争也反映出了许多颇具规模或非常成功的企业在中国混乱的市场经济下面临的威胁：每个人都想分享利益。
朱丁亚说，“我们用自己的血汗创建了这个市场，如今他们要坐享其成。”今年6月初，新建购物中心的租赁拍卖成了公众关注的焦点。一个大约5平方米的摊位，5年租金竞价就高达人民币395万元，约合47.7万美元，使这里一跃成为中国最昂贵的商业楼之一。秀水现有的商家基本上都没有参与竞拍。现年58岁的张修勤(音)说：“首先，我们没那么多钱。其次，这是不公正的。”他与朱丁亚一道动员秀水街上的商人们抵制关闭这个露天市场。两人表示，扣除税金和管理费用后，他们每月的收入约为5,000元，足以让他们过上舒服的小日子，但不够支付新楼摊位的租金。
政府部门已就秀水市场的前途举行了热热闹闹的听证会，当地媒体也大肆曝光，揭露各方的利益冲突。负责直接监管秀水市场的共产党干部郭利文引起了人们的争议。郭利文及其支持者们认为户外摆摊是非法的，并在当地媒体上指责这种行为好似火灾，同时她赞扬新建大楼会“提升秀水市场的品牌”。
而反对派们认为郭利文自己将从中渔利。郭利文不但是新大楼物业公司的股东，还是注册了秀水市场商标的公司的股东。物业公司为新建大楼的开发商收取租金，而商标注册公司又特许物业公司使用这一商标并收取费用。郭本人对此拒绝发表评论。
对于郭利文所在的政府部门，秀水市场早已成了摇钱树。监管部门每年可以从商户那里收取价值60万美元的管理费和130万美元的税金。然而，新建的室内市场也许会带来更多收益。新大楼定于今年年底完工，能容纳1,000多个摊位，几乎是现有规模的3倍，还将出售珠宝和古董。
秀水街上的私营业主们指责郭利文及其同盟，说他们要拆毁现有市场，改建成一个大巴停车场，将游客直接从酒店送往新的商业楼。
今年6月份，北京一个地方政府部门宣布将就秀水市场的前途举行听证会，但在最后关头却取消了，因为愤怒的商人和美国大使馆的代表都想在会上发言。取而代之的是政府官员间的关门会议。朱丁亚回忆说：“一百名商人聚集在开会现场，但他们不让我们进去。”他最终溜了进去，但只能旁听，不能发言。
不过，也有人站出来为商人们说话，他就是朝阳区人大代表李建同。他反驳说：“你不能说这个市场是非法的，当初创建时它遵守了所有规定。“李建同当然很清楚，因为在1985年他就是负责朝阳区的政府官员，也正是他批准了秀水市场的建立。
与此同时，美国把这场争论作为质询销售假冒产品合法性的契机，一些国家指责中国政府一直拖延处理这类事件。今年7月，美国大使馆发表了新闻公告，表示关于秀水市场未来的任何决定都将是中国政府遵守国际知识产权承诺的标志性决定。美国大使馆拒绝作出具体解释。但大使馆处理此事的顾问Baker & McKenzie律师事务所的合伙人约瑟夫?西蒙(Joseph Simone)直截了当地说该市场是非法的，“人们说秀水街是个好玩的地方，但是卖淫嫖娼也可以用这个词儿。”
该律师事务所近期举行的一项调查显示，秀水街每天销售的假冒商品价值在181,159-301,932美元之间，占市场总收入的90%以上。
美国的反对令秀水街上的商户们大为不解。前面提到的那位张女士说：“大多数顾客可都是美国人。“就连美国前任首席贸易谈判代表巴尔舍夫斯基(Barshefsky)也曾光顾过这里。1998年她还因携带40个购于秀水市场的假冒Beanie Babies毛绒玩具而被美国海关扣留。
目前，秀水市场的最终命运依然是个谜，等待著朝阳区政府的裁决。每周四清晨，秀水街的商户们都会聚集在区政府前排长队，这天是市民投诉日。
张女士还把“你喜欢秀水街吗？“这句话写在长卷棉织物上，请顾客留言。一位购物者飞快地写下“是的！我喜欢秀水街，希望它永远不要搬到室内”。
正当此时，秀水街上游人如织。在一个飘著细雨的早晨，来自洛杉矶的雕刻家弗雷德?马斯拉维(Fred Maslavi)砍掉一半出价，只用80元人民币就买了一件白色的Tommy Hilfiger绒线衫。这是他第三次来北京，每次他都会光顾秀水街。
马斯拉维说：“我非常喜欢这里……我也去过室内市场，但这里气氛不同。如果秀水也变成了一个室内市场，就和其他地方没什么不同了。”
