Gaijin Yokozuna: a Biography of Chad Rowan
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GAIJIN YOKOZUNA: A BIOGRAPHY OF CHAD ROWAN A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE GRADUATE DIVISION OF THE UNIVERSITY OF HAWAI'I IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN ENGLISH AUGUST 2004 By Mark Panek Dissertation Committee: Craig Howes, Chairperson George Simson Ian Macmillan Cristina Bacchilega Jonathan Okamura © Copyright 2004 by Mark Panek 111 Dedication For Janice Rowan IV Acknowledgments I wish to thank Janice Rowan, Chad Rowan, George "Ola" Rowan, Randy "Nunu" Rowan, Larry Aweau, Dr. Bob Beveridge, and George Wolfe for hours of invaluable, candid interviews; George Kalima, Jesse Kuhaulua (Azumazeki Oyakata), Fiamalu Penitani (Musashimaru), and Percy Kipapa for insight into the sumo world; and the others I was able to speak with more briefly, most ofwhom appear in the text. This all would have been impossible without the generosity ofDavid Meisenzahl, who provided a place to stay while I did my research in Tokyo; ofthe Sekikawa family for the same reason; ofTamiko Tanigawa for the same reason, but in Honolulu (and for the money she lent along the way to allow me to focus on my writing); ofFrancis Ward, who introduced me to Japan; ofthe Rowan, Spencer, and Kalima families for their friendship and support; and ofmy patient wife, Noriko. I chose the UH English Department for my Ph.D. because I wanted to work with Craig Howes at the UH's Center for Biographical Research. For the past four years Craig has been confirming the wisdom ofthis choice, from grounding me in lifewriting theory, to looking over draft after draft, to helping copy-edit the final version. George Simson, the Center's founder, started me off on this project years ago and remained a strong, enthusiastic. source ofsupport. I also wish to thank Stan Schab, Anna Makkonen, Robert Barclay, Masako Ikeda, Ian MacMillan, Cristina Bacchilega, Jonothan Okamura, and Frank Stewart for their valuable feedback on earlier drafts. Finally, it goes without saying that I could not have done any ofthis without Chad Rowan, who, among other things, set a standard ofgreatness. v Abstract When Japan had the chance in the 1998 Nagano Olympic Opening Ceremony to define "Japanese" for the rest ofthe world, sumo was a natural choice for a centerpiece. Rooted in Shinto creation myths, the sport is among the country's best examples oftraditional icons, a ritualistic reminder ofthe past like no other in the world. But the man they chose to embody their culture was an American, Akebono Taro, formerly Chad Rowan ofHawai'i, a Japanese citizen for less than two years. In a country whose aversion for outsiders is well documented, and where foreign residents are fingerprinted annually, the Nagano organizers' choice raises the question "How?" How could they choose a former American as their primary cultural emblem? I answer the question in this biography by exploring how Rowan was prepared for his experience in Japan, how the system was able to accommodate him, and how he was able to perform in the role ofAkebono to the point where he could find himself on center stage at Nagano. Telling the story ofRowan's life is an act equally biographical, anthropological, autobiographical, and creative. While the overall sports celebrity story drives the main narrative, the cultural concerns regarding both a Hawaiian in Japan's National sport, and those ofa haole biographer researching and conveying that story, are more important and arguably more interesting arguments for the value ofthis project as a contribution to the field ofEnglish Studies. VI Table of Contents Dedication .iv Acknowledgments v Abstract vi Note on Terminology viii Introduction " 1 Gaijin Yokozuna 23 Epilogue .459 Biographer's Note .463 References .471 Vll A Note on Terminology Working with a subject like sumo involves addressing the proliferation of poorly-translatable Japanese words. I have used Japanese words in such cases of poor translatability, placing them where the reader can figure their meaning from their context, very much like Akebono himself learned Japanese. There are, however, more than forty ofthese words in the text, so I have also included a glossary for quick reference. V111 INTRODUCTION Now I know you not going put this in that bookyou're writing, but. ..-Chad Rowan, 10/21/98. You are holding a book born years ago ofan idea that only took offwhen I flew to Tokyo in June of1998, as excited and uncertain as Chad Rowan must have been more than ten years earlier upon entering the National Sport ofJapan. Through some perfect alignment ofthe stars, timely encouragement from a friend in Tokyo, and my own delusions of a writer's ability to live out dreams, I'd managed to secure an interview with Jesse Kuhaulua-the first foreigner to have won a major sumo tournament, the first foreigner to have retired into sumo elderhood and open his own training facility, and the first foreigner to cultivate not only a yokozuna-sumo's highest-ranked competitor-but the very first foreignyokozuna: Chad Rowan, or as he became known in Japan, Akebono. "I'm calling from the University ofHawai'i," I'd told Kuhaulua over the phone after reaching his sumo stable and asking to speak with him. "I'm researching the cultural moves Hawai'i's rikishi [sumo competitors] had to make in order to succeed in sumo, and since you paved the way for everyone else, I think you'd be able to help me most with an interview." Having lived a year in Japan back in 1992, I'd become fascinated at how Kuhaulua, Rowan, and several other men from Hawai'i appeared to have assimilated into Japanese culture as a condition for making it in Japan's National Sport. 1 "Come Wednesday," Kuhaulua had told me. "You know where my stable is?" (Kuhaulua 1998) The extent ofthe cultural-athletic success ofHawai'i's rikishi came down to the powerful and image that had appeared on my TV screen a few months before my luckily-timed phone call. The winter Olympics were held in Japan that year, and like all Olympic opening ceremonies, Nagano's included strong visual definitions ofthe host country's unique culture. In this case, each ofthe record 72 delegations of athletes was led by a kimono-clad sumo wrestler whose hair was styled in a traditional samurai chon-mage-a kind ofsharp topknot stiffened with oil and folded point-forward on top ofthe head, just off-center. Sumo was a natural choice for the Nagano organizers as a cultural symbol, stretching back in its current form over a hundred years, and in one form or another all the way back to Japanese creation myths. Once the athletes were assembled, the Yokozuna entered to purify the grounds ofthis Olympiad by performing the steps ofhis sacred ring-entering ceremony-steps which defined in an instant "Japanese" to a world-wide television audience. As I watched on my TV the Yokozuna lift his feet high and pound them into the ground, what amazed me was that this Yokozuna was not some descendent of ancient samurai who had spent his youth praying at Shinto shrines and being drilled in the ways ofbushido. No, the man ordained to chase away the demons by performing this detailed ritual dating back more than 150 years, was American-born Chad Rowan from rural Oahu. In a country whose aversion to foreigners is well documented-a place where many third- and fourth-generation non-ethnic Japanese are not even allowed to carry Japanese passports-the man picked to personify 2 "Japanese" to one ofthe largest television audiences in history was Chad Rowan, now Yokozuna Akebono Taro, a citizen ofthe Land ofthe Rising Sun for less than two years. When my plane touched down at Narita in June of 1998 I flipped through my passport, drawn to the picture ofmy twenty-year-old selfand trying to imagine 18 year-old Chad Rowan's first steps on Japanese soil. My own had been marked by the five-year-old Tokyo/Narita stamp, which ran into a purple flood ofmemories from more adventurous times as I flipped through the well-stamped pages, and then back to the first page: the Australia student visa, and the picture ofthe excited twenty-year old kid, two months shy ofhis first trip abroad. And two years older than Chad Rowan had been when he'd first boarded the plane to Japan with nothing, and no idea when he would ever return. Less than two hours later I stood in front ofthe Kokugikan, in awe and full of energy despite the long trip. After all these years, there it was, right in front ofme: The Hall ofNational Sport. Kokugi. Built exclusively for sumo. That must be why it's square instead ofovular, I thought, like a hockey arena used for basketball and circuses and concerts and everything else. No, the dohyo is square, so every seat must face it head on. A grand entrance fronted by a perfectly landscaped courtyard and wide stairways on either side up to a second-level terrace. A tower in the front where the taiko drummer sits to announce the openings and closings ofeach tournament day. A soft green crown ofa roofsloping on each of four sides meeting in perfect angles, evoking some kind offuturistic temple. This is where it all 3 happened. Where Jesse Kuhaulua had his retirement ceremony right after it opened. Where Konishiki, the second man from Hawai'i to impact Japan's National Sport, made waves as the first foreigner to approach sumo's top rank. Where Akebono defeated his strongest rival to do what Konishiki could not. I could hear it all from inside the big empty building: Akebono no yusho! Akebono no yusho! Akebono no yusho! My friend David Meizensahl was a Tokyo IT specialist, a Hawai'i transplant, and a sumo fanatic who'd become close to most ofthe Hawai'i rikishi over the course ofhis eight years in Japan.