Issue:

IN TOKUGAWA ERA JAPAN, traders from the Netherlands had convinced the shogun that the world spoke Dutch, so when the Black Ships came crashing through the isolationist tranquility the first emissaries dutifully took their best Dutch interpreters to meet with Commodore Perry. The ensuing maneuvers, involving Dutch, Chinese and whatever other modes of communication they could draw from, were to lay the foundation for modern Japanese diplomacy, leaving us pondering what may have been lost in translation that day.

The 1930s and ’40s brought an isolationism of another form which left Japan woefully under equipped to deal with the Second Coming of the Americans. Not only had English not been taught, it was forbidden, and the FCCJ founders had a heck of a time fighting over the handful of employable Japanese staff that could get beyond “May I help you?” In the end, however, the linguistic heroics of a number of FCCJ luminaries helped pave the short track to Japan’s economic miracle, not to mention ensuring the accuracy of the biggest stories filed by our correspondents.

One such legend, Sen “William” Nishiyama, was born in the U.S., to a samurai scholar who had sailed across the Pacific and chose to stay. There, he grew up speaking English, only making his way to Japan after his father’s death in 1936. His Masters in engineering promptly led to work on technical translations and further polishing of his already impressive Japanese skills.

We’ve found little evidence to suggest there was any talent in Tokyo to rival him in those days, and the first real challenge may have manifested when another FCCJ legend, Ichiro Urushibara, began working summer jobs for the Occupation Forces in Tokyo as a trusted interpreter.

Nishiyama later found employment with the U.S. Embassy, where he honed his skills in the art of cross cultural communications. To this day, he is considered by many to be the father of simultaneous interpretation in Japan. Many politicians and industry leaders came to him for guidance in building their bridges to the world, including a young Yasuhiro Nakasone later to serve as prime minister whom Nishiyama accompanied and coached on a trip across the United States.

Urushibara, too, worked for the GHQ. But both soon branched out into the burgeoning markets generated by new opportunities pouring in through the outbreak of hostilities in Korea. Urushibara went on to find yet another career in the entertainment industry as a bilingual radio host pioneer.

But in the midst of a heady interest in internationalization, another giant entered the field, though of a rather different ilk. Unlike Nishiyama and Urushibara, Masumi Muramatsu was born and raised in Japan. But his uniquely entrepreneurial spirit grew amidst the ruins of a defeated Japan, as he found a job as a clerk typist for the Occupation Forces, taught himself English, and by the 1950s was recognized as one of Japan’s top simultaneous interpreters. He later made his mark as the founder of Simul International.

Each of them helped interpret the live transmission of the Apollo missions, which came to exemplify the highest elite status for interpreters in Japan, and virtually every head of state, newsmaker and celebrity visiting Japan would bid for their services.

Long time FCCJ member Rick Dyck recalls the special relationship his Harvard professor and mentor Edwin O. Reischauer enjoyed with Nishiyama, as something similar to his famous marriage to Haru Matsukata. Born in Japan to American missionaries, Reischauer’s profound grasp of Japanese was put to good use for the U.S. military during the war, and later on during his stint as U.S. ambassador to Japan.

Since both Nishiyama and Haru were raised in thoroughly American environments, Reischauer was always quick to fill them in on Japanese historical context at every opportunity, including for the public speaking engagements at which Nishiyama would be interpreting. In the Reischauer household, the thoroughly American Haru, Dyck remembers, would serve corn flakes and scrambled eggs, when all Edwin and the children wanted was miso soup.

As FCCJ celebrates its 70th anniversary, one can only wonder how the aspirations of the generations inspired by these great interpreters have nevertheless left Japan as cellar dwellers in English proficiency amongst the economic powers of today.


– The Shimbun Alley Whisperers