Sadly, Nobu Yamamoto died on Sunday, February 16, 2003.  I am honored to have known this gracious woman and humbled by her participation in my book.

Meet Nobu Yamamoto

Author, Walter Wolf, wrote an in-depth article for the March 1, 2001 issue of "The Independent" (Santa Barbara, California).  Mr. Wolf granted permission to share some of the highlights of his article describing the fascinating life of Nobu Yamamoto, the Japanese brush artist whose calligraphy appears throughout the next "Akita-Treasure of Japan."  The article recounts Wolf’s interview on the eve of Nobu Yamamoto's 100th birthday celebration.

     “Sensei (“teacher” in Japanese), as she is known to her students, has a background that reads like a fairy tale. 
       As her student, I have been intrigued with the parts of her story that she’s told in her classes.  Recently, our friend Milly Horton and I sat with Sensei to go deeper into it.  Sensei speaks English, but falls back on her native rapid-fire Japanese to explain the details.  Milly understands and translates. This is what Sensei told us:
       I have always understood that I was the 10th daughter of the Meiji Emperor (reign: 1867-1912). My older half-brother, Yoshihito, was the Taisho Emperor (reign: 1912-1926). His son, my nephew, was Emperor Hirohito (1926-1989).

My grandmother was Queen Min of Korea. My mother was a young Korean princess. Her liaison with the Meiji Emperor resulted in my birth in Japan in 1901. I was a princess, but a very secret princess, provided for by the Imperial Court but given no official recognition. I recall being told that I was an upside-down baby that my mother had a very difficult birth, that I was born half dead, with no one expecting me to survive. I did, but my mother died shortly afterward. I was raised by a nursemaid from a good Japanese family. She was with me for more than 40 years.  

       I cannot recall ever having seen my father, the Emperor. He had charged Ito Hirobumi (Japan's first prime minister) with the responsibility for my care. Bringing Master Oh from China to be my tutor provided part of that care. Master Oh was a doctor of medicine and a master in the ancient art of Chinese calligraphy and sumi-e. This wonderfully patient man was my teacher and companion for about 15 years. My study of those arts started when I was only 3 years old.

       My upbringing included many other skills: how to sit, to stand, to hold my head, to walk gracefully, to speak softly, to dress, to wear my hair, to apply makeup, and all the other aspects of being a princess, but always a secret princess.

       I was encouraged to travel, always with my nursemaid and a small group of women, essentially attendants. We traveled to the major cities of China, Korea, and Manchuria. There was always a house for me next door to the Japanese Embassy.

       My home in Tokyo was quite large. In the early 1920s, when many White Russians relocated to Japan, my house became a haven for quite a few of them. They introduced me to ballet and to the Russian language. A French lady taught me some French. A few Europeans spoke English and helped me.

       My direct contact with these Europeans was rapidly changing my knowledge of the world. Contrary to all tradition, I read newspapers and books about Europe and America. Reading was an activity for men, not women. Japanese women were expected to be demure, to defer to men, to become wives and mothers at an early age, to work hard for the family, and to be quiet. That was not for me. I was interested in the world, not in marriage.

       After the assassination of Ito Hirobumi in 1909, the responsibility for my care was transferred to the very famous Prince Saionji. He had made all of the arrangements for my travels in the Orient. In 1923 when I told him I wanted to go Germany to study art, he suggested America instead, saying the arrangements for me would be difficult in Germany. My totally none traditional attitude had made me a misfit in Japan. There were people in high places who would have liked to see me far removed. Their wishes were about to be fulfilled."

Sensei's story continues, describing how representatives from Japanese Consulates throughout America greeted her arrival in each city, calling her "Princess."  Following two years in the United States, she traveled throughout the Orient until the war invaded her life in 1937:

       " One trip, in about 1937, became a turning point. I was on a train in Korea on my way to a city in Manchuria. As we approached the border, two doctors traveling with me said that I was not going to Manchuria that I was being taken to Mongolia to marry a nobleman I had never heard of.  Instantly I knew that I had to escape.  Taking only my purse, I hid in the restroom.

       Just as the train started to move, I jumped from the train and hid in the stationmaster's office. He sensed the seriousness of the situation and let me use his telephone to call my uncle, Crown Prince Li, at his palace in Seoul. He shouted in the telephone: "Don't move. I'll send a car for you." I hid in that office until it arrived. It was a big car and I felt safe. Those were bad times in Korea.

       The very unpopular Japanese occupation of Korea, which had started in 1905, had left thousands of people homeless and on the brink of starvation. My being Japanese in that situation was not at all good, but I am I half Korean by birth, so I changed my clothes and became Korean. Almost no one knew of my Japanese background. The secret continued.

       Calling upon my uncle to help, I opened what I called a studio where orphaned Korean girls could find food, shelter, schooling, and hope. I struggled to learn more Korean, but since the Japanese puppet government had forced every school to teach Japanese, communication was not a big problem. Finding enough food always was. The first teachers were my nursemaid and myself.  Other teachers were added as we could. At its peak we had about 75 girls, ages 5 to 20. Each of them got a good start in her new life, some of them going on to the best universities in Korea. Some became teachers. Many married well and raised families. Noblemen friends of my uncle, Prince Li, adopted the graduating ladies, giving each one a real family name. What a gift.

       I continued that work for many years, making occasional short trips back to Japan. The war had started in Europe. Japan was changing. The military factions had become very powerful. I happened to have been in Tokyo when the Japanese navy bombed Pearl Harbor, but I knew nothing about it for a long time.  I spent the war years in Korea working with orphaned girls.

       After the war ended I returned to Tokyo and was shocked at what the bombs and fires had done.  My home, among thousands of others, had been burned to the ground.  Li Gu, one of Prince Li's sons, had been killed by the atom bomb in Hiroshima.  Homeless and hungry people were everywhere."

Sensei describes her encounter with Staff Sergeant Francis Ryozo Yamamoto, a Japanese American member of an intelligence unit attached to General Douglas McArthur's headquarters in Tokyo.  She met the Sergeant years earlier in the United States.  Eventually they married and settled in Japan. In 1975 they moved from Japan to Pasadena where their children attended college.  There is so much more to her story but for now, Sensei lives in Santa Barbara, California, where she teaches Chinese calligraphy and sumi-e.  

When I met this wonderful woman in July 2002, I learned she had an Akita as a child.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons she agreed to do the calligraphy for each chapter of my book.  At 101 years of age, Sensei's hands are youthful and fluid; she is a tiny woman with amazing energy who remains active teaching art and more-she is a living example of strength, character and heart.   

Barbara Bouyet