Aizu- Wakamatsu's Samurai Should Have Come to Indiana

 One of the channels on our local tv network is called Grit. Grit broadcasts cowboy-themed movies and tv series from the 50’s through the 90’s. I switch it on from time to time to watch familiar shows from my youth such as Bat Masterton, Tales of Wells Fargo, and spaghetti westerns starring Clint Eastwood. The infamous whistle and wa-wa trumpet background is still there. If you don’t know the reference, then you don’t know Clint Eastwood westerns.

A regular offering on Grit is Death Valley Days, hosted by various actors including Stanley Andrews (“The Old Ranger”), future president Ronald Reagan and later by Dale Robertson, of previous Wells Fargo fame. As I watch the reruns, I notice that actors who star in one western, often show up in other series as well. Sometimes as the hero and sometimes as the villain. Or, Hollywood’s favorite, the outlaw hero, perfected by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I suppose there is a certain type casting of western stars as it would be strange to see Gunsmoke's James Arness on Gomer Pyle, or with his brother Peter Graves on Mission Impossible. 

In any event, I don’t remember being a big fan of Death Valley Days as a boy. For some odd reason, I found space exploration and missions to the moon more exciting than 20 Mule Team Borax laundry soap commercials which was Valley’s sponsor and opening scene intro. Can you imagine taking care of twenty mules and driving them through the Nevada desert? No thank you.

Youthful dreams of space travel aside, I turned on my trusty Grit the other morning while making coffee (which consists of pressing the button on my Nespresso machine) and host Dale, caught my attention with the story of the first Japanese settlement in America started by a group of samurai from Aizu-Wakamatsu (now Fukushima Prefecture) fleeing the collapse of the Shogun government in Japan and thus out of work and on the run. Interesting. First time I had seen a Japanese-themed western since Charles Bronson got tossed around by Toshiro Mifune in Red Sun.

 “The Dragon of Golden Hill,” episode 15 from season 18 of Death Valley, recounts the short-lived history of the Wakamatsu Tea and Silk Farm Colony near Placerville, California. It started in 1869 with the intention of growing tea bushes and mulberry trees. Tea for market in San Franscisco and mulberry trees as food for the silkworms. Unfortunately, the samurai colonists ran into a lengthy drought in an area known for drought and the withdrawing of promised funding from Japan. Despite importing fifty-thousand mulberry trees, all withered and died thus leading to the closing of the colony in 1871. Some of the samurai returned to Japan, while others stayed in America working for the new landowners or drifting to new opportunities. One of the original colonists was a 17-year-old Japanese girl named Ito Okei. She came as a maid then stayed to work for the Veerkamp family that bought the land after the colony folded. Unfortunately, she died of a fever at age 19 and is recognized as the first Japanese woman to be buried in America. Her grave is still on the original land and the colony was proclaimed a California Historical Landmark in 1969 by then Governor Ronald Reagan. Figured there had to be a connection somewhere.

Meanwhile back at the Wakamatsu ranch, our episode begins with expat samurai Matsu and Okei, the 16-year-old maid, forced to make the long trip to town on foot to check for funds from Japan because they have sold the wagon to keep the colony afloat. Matsu, played by Soon-Taik Oh, looked familiar and upon further investigation saw that he appeared on the series MASH and Kung-Fu, while Okei played by Momo Yashima, appeared on Star Trek. Meanwhile, cowboy villain Daniel Turner, played by William Smith also appeared on Kung-Fu. So much for my western genre typecasting theory. I guess once you start doing tv westerns, space dramas and Korean War sitcoms is an easy transition.

When Matsu and Okei finally get to town, a group of rowdy cowboys accuse Matsu and the colonists of causing the fever going around and the cowpokes get pushy until the local sheriff and more understanding locals step in. Later, the bad hombres show up at the colony and start tearing down tents and destroy a Buddhist alter. Matsu, who has seen enough, takes on the offenders and plants a couple of nice kicks and elbow strikes plus a Seionage judo throw to the rowdies. That gets the cowboys attention and when things are finally sorted out, everyone shakes hands, and the good old boys ride off. Matsu, with Okei’s encouragement, decides to stay in America and make another go of it. The scene fades and host Dale returns to tell of Okei’s death due to fever shortly thereafter and the eventual closing of the colony. Unfortunately, Gold Hill, California, wasn’t the place to grow mulberry trees, at least not in 1869. Now if the Samurai had come to Indiana, things would have been different.

As the show credits run, I look out my kitchen window—painstakingly brewed double espresso in hand— and my view is obscured by the branches of a pernicious mulberry tree that won’t take no for an answer. As if to show me who really owns the land my house sits on, said tree grows faster than I can fire up my Swiss-made espresso coffee computer. The tree, along with his mulberry cousins, are found in every nook and cranny around the yard, along neighborhood sidewalks, in the nature preserve next door, and in the movie theatre parking lot around the corner. The damn trees are everywhere and good luck trying to pull the roots out or cut them down. Needless to say, I never planted one the interlopers.

Considered an invasive species in many communities due to the high pollen content of the male trees. (Why is it always the man's fault!) Mulberries are everywhere in Central Indiana, and I do mean everywhere. A game I play during evening walks is to count how many new mulberry trees I see pushing through cracks in someone's driveway, fence line, or any other spot that doesn't have 2 feet of concrete or asphalt over it. I might live in Shiloh Farms, but it could be more accurately named Mulberry Hell. 

So, if the Aizu Samurai had come to my neighborhood, things would definitely been different. If French nuns can open Saint Mary of the Woods women's college in the wilderness of Terre Haute, Indiana in 1840, and Kwai Chang Cain could "Walking the Earth" of the old west with no dough or shoes, then Japanese Samurai could certainly have made it to the Crossroads of America. They could have had all the mulberry trees they wanted and could have sold their silk and tea at the Chicago Merchandise Mart just up the road. Who knows, their descendants might have become IU basketball, or IndyCar fans. It all would have worked out if only the samurai would have become Hoosiers. 

 

Hattori Hanzo comes to 

Avon, Indiana

 

Living on the west side of Indianapolis in the fast-growing town of Avon, it comes as no surprise when I see another mega-sized warehouse popping up in what was previously a cornfield. Indy being at the center of the country and aligned with I-70 east-west from Baltimore to Utah, I-65 north-south from the Gulf to Lake Michigan, and I-74 heading to Davenport and Rock Island, it’s the perfect location to put up rows of warehouses for manufacturers and cargo haulers. Plus, there are lots of cornfields to plow under. So, when I saw yet another row of white boxes going up a couple of miles down the road near I-74, I thought, well, there goes another cornfield. Little did I know that one of Japan’s most famous samurai ninjas from the 16^th Century was about to show up in Hendricks County and may very well hang out at the Starbucks at Interstate exit #68. If you had the awful mental image of a garish-looking plastic feudal-era warrior planted in front of Star B’s ala Ronald McDonald, let me set your mind at ease.

In an effort to connect the east to west routed interstates of I-65, I74, and I-70, the Ronald Reagan Parkway Project was started about ten years ago. Unfortunately, the northern-end connection to I-65 currently terminates in another Indiana cornfield about ten miles short, but I’m not here to quibble about never ending road construction projects when sword-wielding samurai and American presidents are on the docket. As mentioned, warehouses are springing up on either side of Ronnie R., like destroying angels in the backyard after a week of rain. So, it was on the southside of I-74 behind the newly opened McDonalds and Starbucks, or Staba, as the Japanese call it, that I saw Hanzo and it appears he is now in the warehouse business.

Actually, it was the “Hanzo” signage on the side of an iceberg-sized warehouse that caught my attention. Hanzo, hmm, I guess that makes sense. Han can mean shipping, or transport in Japanese and so, or zo can mean to send, so transport company seemed logical. There are several Japanese logistics firms in the area, and this looked like another one serving the automotive and warehousing industries. Nevertheless, I’ve learned from experience that my preconceived notions about Japan are often wrong despite having lived there at various times over the past five decades. Time to pull out my trusty Farmer’s Almanac and find out what this Hanzo business is all about and why he's hanging out with Hoosiers.

As usual, my guess was way off. It turns out that the name Hanzo has nothing to do with transport or delivery. It’s an American shipping and warehouse firm named after the 16^th Century ninja warrior, Hattori Hanzo. Well, duh, I should have guessed that. According to their website, Hattori Hanzo is their namesake due to his ability to slice through problems and tackle any shipping and warehousing challenges. I get it. Perfect analogy for freight handling. Really? Time to get back to the Almanac for further investigation on just who this Double H fellow was.

I was familiar with the name Hattori Hanzo as a figure from Japanese history and the leader of the Iga ninja. I think most Japanese would be familiar with the name as well, although probably wouldn’t know much beyond his characterization in film and video games. The Hanzo Company website describes Hanzo as a samurai who could kill with a single stroke, protect the emperor, and unify of the country. While I would certainly give kudos to these folks for coming up with an original moniker, the bio on Mr. Hanzo is not quite how things went down in the waning days of the 16^th Century. Or, as we used to say in the old neighborhood, that’s not quite your cat.

Hanzo lived during what is known as the Sengoku Jidai, or Warring States Period (1467-1568). As you might imagine, it was a period of power struggles between clans and fiefdoms for control and domination of the country. During that period and for most of Japanese history for that matter, the emperor held little power and it was not until the collapse of the feudal system in 1868 and the beginning of the modern era known as the Meiji Restoration that the emperor had any far-reaching authority. So as far as I can tell, Hanzo wasn’t protecting any emperors, or winning battles with his sword. Despite the aesthetic beauty and deadly nature of the Japanese katana, it had limited use on the Sengoku battlefield. The yari, or spear, and the newly imported matchlock were more effective in the large-scale engagements of the day.  As for the claim that he helped unify Japan, we will have to give him a bit more credit.

According to historical records, Hanzo was a samurai in the service of a regional warlord known as Tokugawa Ieyasu, Hanzo was known for his skill in military strategy, espionage, and assignation. It was Tokugawa, not the emperor, who unified Japan through savvy political maneuvering, a bit of luck, and with the assistance of Hanzo’s and his Iga ninja. Tokugawa and his descendants went on to hold power for the next three-hundred and fifty years. Not a bad run if you’re in the warlord racket. The current tv series Shogun is loosely based on the story of English navigator William Adams and Tokugawa Ieyasu. Not sure what all this has to do with third-party logistics, but maybe espionage and clandestine ops are a big thing in the freight business.

I would also give props to Mr. Hanzo for his staying power as a pop culture icon. I mean, how many sixteenth-century warlord sidekicks end up in Quinten Terentino movies running sushi bars in Okinawa, or as a bad-ass video game character who now rebrands himself as a logistics guy in central Indiana? Now that’s what I would call a diversification!

Needing a break from the exhausting work of writing humorless prose, I stopped in at the new Staba out front of Mr. Hanzo’s place of business to see if they had my favorite Nitro Cold Brew. They did and I sat down to enjoy my view of corn stubble waiting to become a warehouse. When at S&B, I try to be polite and not stare at the purple hair, neck tattoos, or laptop hobos, but it’s hard work. Having been a “hobo” myself, I know the exact timing required to purchase something before they call the cops. As I sipped my joe, I glanced to my left and saw a dark figure hunched over what looked to be battle plans depicting troop positions and castle walls. And was that a wakizashi blade at his waist?  Nah, couldn’t be. I grabbed my nitro and headed for the door reminding myself that we were, after all, in Avon, Indiana.

The Samurai on the Bus

   I recently travelled to Japan after a four-year break. I toured the Nagoya and Kyoto regions and although the trip was ostensibly for business, I kept my eyes open for hints of the historical culture that I have long studied and admired. While I took a great many photos of machinery and such, I probably snapped an equal number of gnarled pines and tiled roofs. My fellow travelers would get a strange look on their faces when I stopped once again to take a picture of a meticulously trimmed black pine bough jutting over a weathered, wooden gate to someone's garden.
   In many ways, Japan is a culture built quite literally on wood and I have always been fascinated by its unique uses in Japanese art and architecture. Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines, and feudal-era castles would certainly be in the forefront. (See photo of the wood and stone-built Nagoya Castle above).  In addition, the bo-staff, shoji screens, and geta clogs come to mind as well. My trek to the Kyomizu-dera, one of the most impressive-an oldest-wooden structures in the world, was the highlight of a very eventful trip. Moreover, my first trip back to Kyoto in twenty-five years gave me new insights for stories that will be appearing on this site in the near future.

   Although I was able to seek out the traditional side of Japan, three things from its modern face really caught my attention. These, not in any particular order, was the fascination of young Japanese males with looking feminine, the almost complete lack of trash cans anywhere, and the huge numbers of foreign workers I found in every factory I visited. This may seem like a strange and disconnected list, but the first had me scratching my head and wondering what the attraction was for these young people. The second, caused me great consternation because I was nursing a head cold. And thirdly, while it might be an economic necessity, I found it odd to find factories full of Brazilians and Bolivians.
   As to the first, one might say,
   "Big deal," but I wasn't prepared to see nearly every young man between high school age, and thirty-something wearing makeup, blouses and frilly shirts, or sporting teased-out, orange hair. Conversely, my impression was that it's the women who are now dressing more conservatively, although mini-skirts and high-heels are all the rage. Certainly, none of the chaps in our group complained about that. Gone, however, is the long, beautiful (in my opinion), jet-black hair of Japanese women. Virtually every woman dyes her hair in shades from auburn to kool-aide orange. But enough on hair and on to trash cans, or their lack of.

   Due to my nose running constantly, I was forced to use large amounts of Kleenex. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, except I couldn't find anywhere to dispose of the used tissues in public. Whether I was in a train station, the subway, numerous tourists spots, or the hotel lobby, I could not, quite literally, find a place to throw out trash. What I could find were recycling bins for glass, plastic, and cans often next to the ubiquitous vending machine. I was finally forced to find public toilets where I could empty my pockets. Restrooms, by the way, didn't have trash cans either. Recycling is certainly in full force in Japan. Which is great for conserving resources, but annoying as hell if you are traveling with a cold! Now on to all the foreign workers.

   Japan has long been known as a country with restrictive immigration policies. Not a place that would be easy to find work, with the exception being foreign language teachers and club hostesses. Due to Japan's low birth rate since the 70's, however, and coupled with a lack of interest in manufacturing jobs among young people, Japan has been importing large numbers of workers for the last fifteen years or so. This would have been unthinkable in the go-go manufacturing days of the 80's. In the plants I visited, nearly every worker on the shop floor was either a Brazilian of Japanese ancestry or Bolivian. The factory workers--mostly women--appeared to be very dedicated, hard working individuals who have learned the language and culture and are keeping the Japanese economic engine going by providing the labor that can no longer be sourced locally.

   Now we come to the Samurai on the bus. When my son saw the title of this post, he thought I was describing myself, but alas, I am not comparing myself to a feudal retainer from Japan's Middle Ages. It is in reference to the airport bus driver who took us from the JR station to the Nagoya International Airport.
   From the moment we boarded the bus he reminded me of the Japan I first visited in 1974. Although less than 30 years after WWII, I found Japan to be a modernized country full of dedicated, intelligent people. Far from being a vanquished society, the Japanese had tremendous pride in their traditional arts and international accomplishments ranging from innovative automobiles to superior cameras. Our bus driver reminded me of the Japan of my youth not only because of his outward appearance, which was spit and polish with close-cropped hair, crisp uniform, and white gloves; but it was the professionalism and pride in which he approached his task. He sat up straight and moved with sharp precision. And he spoke with a clear, respectful voice when announcing the next stop, or assisting passengers. This was the norm thirty-five years ago. Much less common now.

   I do not harken for a return to a neo-feudal Japan. Quite to the contrary, modern Japan has given the world amazing, and practical, technological innovations. Moreover, post-modern Japan has become a progressive, peace-loving society.

   What concerns me, however, is that the culture which created the unique arts of Japan is ebbing away. Some years ago I had the great fortune to meet one of the Living National Treasures of Japan. An unpretentious and forthright man with a skill transcending art. The Living National Treasures are a select, yet rapidly declining group of masters in the traditional arts, and a testament to the idea that art is a living entity and not simply a collection of inanimate objects. I wonder if this current generation will produce any National Treasures? It is my ardent wish that they do.

   So once again my travels remind me that Japan is a land of sharp contrasts between old and new, traditional and ultra-modern, of orange-haired furita, and tea masters whose lineage reach back eight-hundred years. I indeed look forward to my next trip back.

Now, if I could only find a damn trash can!