Keeping time in Joseon: Part 3

According to one early Western observer, the establishment of the trolley system in Seoul in the late 19th century taught even Korean yangban (noblemen) the value of time: the trolley waited for no one. Robert Neff Collection

Long before smartphones — and prior to them, pagers — became an integral part of our daily life, there was “Korean time.” When I first arrived in Korea as a young soldier, the only way to contact and meet my Korean friends was by the ambiguous public payphones. As I remember, a local call cost only 20 won — even then, a very small sum of money. Although the calls were affordable, standing in the long lines to use the phone was particularly annoying. And, even worse, you could only call the person at their home, business or at a prearranged phone number.

Adding to the misery of the communication problem was traffic. Bus and train tickets on the weekend were often sold out and, even if you did manage to get a standing-only ticket, there was no guarantee the bus or train would arrive on time due to frequent breakdowns or traffic jams. Even taxis were difficult to catch and "hapseong" (sharing a taxi between strangers) wasn’t uncommon, despite being in the gray area of the law. Thus, being on time for appointments and promises was often difficult, and it was expected — according to the informal laws of “Korea time” — that people would wait 30 minutes or more for the tardy person to arrive.

I still recall the horror of one of my friends when he arrived some 30 minutes late for our appointment, and discovered that I was not there. I didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note on the nearby bulletin board informing him that I had left. In my own defense, I was unaware of the rules.

Jinju in the early 20th century / Robert Neff Collection

Now, however, those days are gone and it seems no one possesses Korean time. The smartphone has made society extremely aware of punctuality and messages sent with the various apps are expected to be answered immediately. Failure to do so is met with condemnation.

It is interesting to compare Joseon Korea with Korea in the 1980s.

As mentioned in the previous article, George C. Foulk, a naval officer attached to the American Legation in Seoul, lost his watch to a thief in the summer of 1884. It was a tremendous loss to him, not so much monetarily, but because it “was the very best time keeper” he had ever seen. He was forced to replace it with a watch he bought for $65. As Foulk declared to his parents, “I cannot get along without [a watch] in my duty.”

An old family watch / Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

At first he was quite pleased with his new watch and took every opportunity to show it off. In late September, while at Gaeseong (in present-day North Korea), he showed off his watch and quite a few other little trinkets that apparently impressed his Korean hosts.

“I then showed these officers my watch, pistol, photograph, etc., and they examined them with wondering delight, like babies with new toys. My outfit is a good one and all I showed them was really first class. A mirror I had was particularly interesting to them. They looked in it, smiled, pulled their beards and seemed to admire themselves immensely.”

About a month later, while in Jinju (South Gyeongsang Province), Foulk’s smugness lagged, much like his watch. In his journal he wrote, “My watch has stopped. It is about a half hour slow now.” His patience quickly faded as his watch ticked ever slower — by the end of the day it was running more than an hour slow.

William R. Carles, a member of the British diplomatic service in Korea, had a completely different experience with his travels in the northern part of the country in October 1884. In his description of a visit to a local governor, he wrote:

“There were several small European trifles in the room, and among them a watch. The Governor lost no time in asking for the correct time, and, strange to say, our watches agreed to a minute. The incident ought to prove a good advertisement to watchmakers anxious to find a sale for their wares in Hwang-hai Do.”

Apparently watches were quite popular in that area. In 1887, an American missionary reported: “A few foreign articles, such as cotton cloth, paints and watches, were exposed in the shops. We asked a dealer how the trade was and he replied, very good.”

One of the Oriental Consolidated Mining Company’s camps in northern Korea in the early 20th century / Courtesy of Diane Nars Collection

For one missionary, coming to Korea was especially difficult as she was unable to spend time with her family. In a letter to her sister she wrote of her longing to spend time together — even if they were separated by several thousand miles:

“I have yet the home time by my watch — when we are going to bed you are getting up. I always have rather a sad feeling to think we sleep away the best part of your day.”

Time occasionally stopped, and getting watches and clocks repaired was no easy matter. Fortunately, in 1885, there was at least one watch repairman in Korea — a Japanese man in Fusan (modern Busan) known only as “Mr. Koto — watchmaker.”

In 1895, a member of the Anglican mission in Jemulpo (modern Incheon) ecstatically wrote:

“A Corean man has just set up as a watchmaker! He has repaired and cleaned a little clock for a shilling so that it goes better than ever. It is the little one with an alarm which you sent out; you will soon be sending to Korea all the Community watches and clocks to be mended and cleaned!”

In 1900, Rush McCargar, an American working for the Oriental Consolidated Mining Company (OCMC) in northern Korea, had trouble keeping his own clocks and watches on time. He was extremely amused when his Korean houseboy noticed the clock had stopped several times and opined to the miner that the clock was sleeping because it was running all the time and needed to rest. The OCMC had little patience with tardiness so many of the employees, foreigners and Korean, purchased clocks and watches but were unfamiliar with the maintenance they required. McCargar realized he had an opportunity to make an additional income by repairing their time pieces.

Many of the watches and clocks brought to him were “beyond redemption” as it was impossible to make new pivots and wheels with his “14 inch file and a jack knife.” He further complained that his Korean customers tended to pull their watches and clocks apart while the Chinese lost “half the pieces and then expect [me] to make them run the same.”

This general ignorance of timepieces wasn’t confined just to the mines in northern Korea. In 1905, Yun Chi-ho (whom we spoke about in the previous two articles) visited Hawaii and wrote:

“That the Korean does not save is the universal complaint everywhere. What is left to him after deducting his store debts is sucked dry by Japanese prostitutes, Japanese liquor dealers, and Japanese stage drivers. The first thing a Korean buys is a gold watch, so called. He does not know how to handle it even. A Japanese sharper would tell him to wind it only partly. The watch stops. The simple goose of a Korean goes to the Japanese and asks him to doctor it. The Japanese takes it, looks at it inside and out then winds it to its full. The watch goes all right again. The Korean pays $1.50 or $2.00 for this trick. At home or abroad, on the land or on the sea, the Korean is the meat and bread of the Japanese!”

Yun Chi-ho’s opinions of the Japanese and their treatment of Koreans would waffle back and forth between positive and negative — depending on the year and what position Yun held in the government.

I would like to close this article with an amusing and cute anecdote from 1893. A Korean boy named “John” worked at the residence of Clarence Greathouse — an American legal adviser to the Korean government — running errands and performing light household duties. Greathouse’s mother took an intense interest in him and was determined to teach him English, as well as how to tell time. He apparently was very interested in learning English but he was fascinated with time. According to her diary:

“John is a very ingenious boy — he made the face of a watch inscribed in a tin case and it looks from a little distance just like a real watch — [he’d] rather make watches than learn his lessons this morning.”

Take time and do something special this weekend for yourself or your family. Giving time, taking time and keeping time are the most important things in our lives.

My appreciation to Diane Nars for her assistance and for providing me with some of her images.

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