Pekalongan Forgotten Conglomerates and the City That Stayed Quiet
javaprivatetour.com – Pekalongan forgotten conglomerates never announced their success with monuments or public celebrations. They built industries instead. Quietly. Patiently. And often, anonymously.
Along the northern coast of Java, Pekalongan grew as a city of labor. Not of power. Not of politics. It did not house governors or royal courts. What it had were factories, workshops, water infrastructure, and people who understood how systems worked.
Among them was a figure whose legacy still shapes the city, even if his name is rarely spoken aloud today: Hoo Tjien Siong.
A Working City on Java’s North Coast
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Pekalongan was defined by production. Batik workshops filled kampungs. Trade routes connected inland regions to coastal ports. Sugar, textiles, and everyday goods moved steadily through the city.
This was not a place for spectacle. It was a place for discipline.
The entrepreneurs who thrived here were not aristocrats. They were organizers of labor, managers of water, and builders of industrial routines. From this environment emerged Pekalongan forgotten conglomerates.
Hoo Tjien Siong, Also Known as Babah Zing Zong
Hoo Tjien Siong was a wealthy Peranakan Chinese merchant from Kedungwuni, Pekalongan. Within the community, he was respectfully known as Babah Zing Zong.
These were not two different identities, but two layers of the same man. One reflected his formal role as an industrialist. The other reflected his social standing and responsibility within the local community.
His business focus was clear and specific: ice and soft drinks.
Ice as Modern Industry
In the early twentieth century, ice was not a household convenience. It was modern technology.
Producing ice required machinery, technical knowledge, and above all, reliable access to clean water. Without control over water, ice production was impossible.
Hoo Tjien Siong owned an ice factory that supplied Pekalongan and surrounding regions. This industry supported food preservation, trade, and daily commerce, making it strategically important.
The factory employed many local workers. Around it grew secondary economies: transport services, food vendors, and housing for laborers.
Sumur Umbul and the Control of Water
The heart of Hoo Tjien Siong’s industrial operation was Sumur Umbul, located in the Doro area of Pekalongan.
Despite its name, Sumur Umbul was not a traditional well. It was a water channel constructed with a domed structure, designed so flowing water appeared like a waterfall. This structure became an icon of the area.
The water originated from the Tapak Menjangan Dam and was channeled through underground tunnels before being collected at Sumur Umbul. From there, it supplied the ice factory with a stable and continuous water source.
Built around the 1930s during the colonial period, this infrastructure demonstrates industrial foresight. Control over water meant control over production, quality, and reliability.
When the ice factory eventually disappeared, the water system did not. Today, it is used for agricultural irrigation, quietly continuing its function.
Dua Merpati, the Soft Drink That Renamed a Place
Beyond ice, Hoo Tjien Siong also produced bottled soft drinks under the brand Dua Merpati, known locally as Doro.
The drink became widely popular. Its presence was so strong that it reshaped local identity.
The area once known as Kaso gradually came to be called Doro, directly referencing the Dua Merpati soft drink. Commerce did not merely operate within the city. It renamed it.
This is a rare example of industrial branding leaving a permanent mark on geography.
A Mausoleum That Speaks Quietly
Unlike many Pekalongan forgotten conglomerates, Hoo Tjien Siong left behind one visible structure: his mausoleum.
The tomb complex, located in Dusun Kaso Gunung, Desa Doro, occupies approximately 1,500 square meters, with a building area of 568.85 square meters. It stands as a rare architectural statement in an otherwise understated legacy.
Documented in De Indische newspaper dated July 20, 1929, the mausoleum was commissioned by Ir. Han Tiauw Tjong for his father-in-law, Hoo Tjien Siong. The structure was designed by an Italian architect, G. Racina, and completed in 1929, one year before Hoo Tjien Siong’s death.
The architecture reflects a fusion of Chinese and Dutch styles. The building is dominated by white tones, supported by 24 marble-clad pillars, and surrounded by a tall fence with floral Chinese ornaments and tower-like corners.
Construction reportedly involved 137 workers, making it a major architectural undertaking for its time.
According to oral history, Hoo Tjien Siong’s body was once preserved in a thick glass coffin within the mausoleum. The remains, along with marble elements and valuable objects, were later relocated to Semarang by his heirs.
Today, the mausoleum remains standing, quiet, intact, and largely unknown.
Legacy Without Noise
Hoo Tjien Siong did not leave behind monuments meant to glorify power. He left infrastructure. Water systems. Industrial memory. Place names.
This is how Pekalongan forgotten conglomerates shaped their city. Through systems rather than symbols.
Pekalongan Today
Pekalongan does not dramatize its history. It does not compete for attention.
For those willing to walk slowly, to look beyond facades, the city reveals layers of quiet achievement.
Here, history is not distant. It is embedded in daily life.
Walking the Story
Stories like this cannot be fully understood from text alone. They must be walked, observed, and discussed.
Java Private Tour designs heritage walking journeys that are personal, unhurried, and deeply contextual. These are not general tours, but specialist explorations for those who want to understand cities through their forgotten builders.
If you are ready to explore the legacy of Pekalongan forgotten conglomerates, visit our request page at https://www.javaprivatetour.com/req or chat with us on WhatsApp at https://wa.link/wk2hur.
With Java Private Tour, you are not just visiting a destination. You are walking through the systems that once made it thrive.
And sometimes, the quietest stories are the ones worth hearing.
