Chapter 2: Dreaming the Possible Dream
“Is it too farfetched to presume that the art of the dance can serve as a form of cultural ‘communication’ and provide peaceful understanding between nations hitherto indifferent or even hostile? If you ask this question of Sachiyo Ito, an accomplished exponent of Japan’s Classical Kabuki Dance, she will answer that this ‘far-fetched’ idea is her very dream, the reason why she has come to America . . .”
“Dreaming the Possible Dream”
— Ernestine Stodelle, New Haven Register (June 23, 1974)
Kyoganoko Musume Dojoji
There are chances and occurrences that never lead to a chain of events, but there are chances and occurrences that do lead to a chain of life’s events, because of that, because of this. I was able to make an incredible journey thanks to my mother, artists, and friends I met in my life in Japan and my early life in America in the ‘70s and ‘80s.
Sachiyo Ito in 1972
Without meeting Robertson and Mary Paige Alford in Tokyo, I would not have found myself in America in 1972.
In 1970, I attended a concert of Japanese classical dance performed by the best dancers of the time. During intermission, I noticed a foreign couple standing in front of the portrait of Azuma Tokuho that hung in the second-floor gallery of the National Theater. Azuma Tokuho (1909-1998) was an innovative dancer, and with her son, Nakamura Tomijuro, she led her troupe on the first tour of Kabuki performances in the USA in 1954.
The dance she performed was titled Sono Omokage Ninin Wankyu (The Glimpse of Two Wankyu), originally staged in 1734. This was my favorite dance, which I have presented a few times in the U.S. Azuma and Fujima Tomoaki danced a memorable duet. As I was eager to talk about the performance and Madame Tokuho, I could not help but approach the couple to explain about the dance and the subject of the portrait they were admiring, the very same lady whose performance they had just watched. They were delighted to engage in conversation with me and invited me to tea afterwards at their home. We became fast friends and remained in touch after they returned to their home in Norfolk, Connecticut, two years later.
A funny story from early in our friendship involved a simple, but universal, struggle: finding properly fitting footwear! Mrs. Alford had begun taking dance lessons from me and needed tabi (socks worn with kimono that separate the big toe from the other toes). We searched but could not find tabi in her size; finally, we wound up going to Ohnoya, a store right across from the Kabuki-Za Theater, to have her tabi custom made. The tabi maker was so surprised to see her long and narrow feet—a normal size and shape in the West, but uncommon for the Japanese. Their minimum requirement to place an order was a dozen, and most of them ended up unused.
In 1972, Mr. and Mrs. Alford arranged for me to perform at the American Dance Festival in Connecticut, and they were also kind enough to host me for the duration of my stay in Connecticut that summer.
A memorable moment was when Mr. Alford’s mother, a gentle and graceful lady at the age of 80, asked me “Did you sleep well?” on the following day of flying to Hartford, Connecticut, my first arrival in the U.S. “Of course, I did!” I answered, for I had slept through the night and well into the afternoon of the following day, as you can imagine, because of the jet lag.
The Alford family was a good introduction to an upper-middle-class American family in New England. I learned about their manners, although I don’t think I acquired them, and I started to get to know the American way of life.
In the fall of that year, I began studying at New York University, finishing my MA in 1974. During that time, the Alfords moved to Italy. We kept in touch while they were abroad. After many years, they returned to their summer house in Norfolk and I would visit on several occasions, often for special holidays. They loved Japanese art and decorated their home with Japanese screens and paintings. Their friendship is something I will always treasure. There are no words to express how thankful I am for the Alfords for their support of me and my work. I am always amazed that our chance encounter in Tokyo eventually led me to come to the United States and remain here for the next fifty years.
Over the course of my travels and work, I have met others who became dedicated supporters and dear friends.
An early supporter of my career in the 1960s was Mrs. Martha Walker. She and her family have become my life-long supporters.
Martha Walker, who knew of me through my teaching at the Tokyo American Club, requested private lessons, and so I began teaching her at her home in Shiroganedai, Tokyo. My first meeting with her sons is still vivid in my memory. They all greeted me in unison with incredibly good manners. Richard Walker, her husband, worked for Mobil Oil, and was then on assignment in Tokyo. Later the company moved the family to Italy and Iran. By the time they moved back to their New Jersey home, I was already in the U.S., teaching and performing, and we happily resumed our friendship. The warmth of Martha’s friendship was extended to my family as well; she was so kind as to invite my brother and his wife to stay with them after their marriage ceremony in New York.
The Walkers were a very loving couple. For one wedding anniversary Richard had a kimono made for Martha. He enlisted my mother and me to help with the process, and we all went to the Mitsukoshi department store to help in its creation. The kimono was absolutely beautiful, and Martha looked stunning in it.
Martha was truly passionate about Japanese art. In addition to taking Japanese dance lessons with me, she also studied Ikebana (traditional Japanese flower arrangement). She was also enthusiastic about sharing her passion for my work with others. One example of this is when she hired a van to bring ten of her friends from New Jersey to New York to view my 50th Anniversary concert performance in New York in 2006.
Martha and I had a wonderful relationship that spanned over fifty years, until her passing in 2021. I am so grateful for her presence in my life. Not only was Martha a big supporter of my dance company over the years, but so have her three sons, Richard Jr., David, and Steven. They are brothers with loving bonds between one another, and a deep respect for their parents. They continue to support my work, as a part of Martha’s legacy, so that her love of Japanese art continues, although she is no longer with us.
After her passing, I wondered what happened to the kimono which my mother and I helped design at the Mitsukoshi department store? For the kimono and obi were so perfect on her. That image is always with me.
(left) Mrs. Martha Walker with Princess Michiko, the current Empress, in 1973. (right) Mrs. Martha Walker in Kimono
U.S. Debut
In 1972, I made my U.S. debut at the 38th American Dance Festival held at Connecticut College in New London, CT. Coming from the cramped campus of Aoyama Gakuin University in Tokyo, the campus of Connecticut College looked very huge. I was amazed to find many students using bicycles or cars to get from one class to another.
As a part of the festival program, I performed two Kabuki dances: Kyoganoko Musume Dojoji, first staged in 1767, and Mitsumen Komori, first staged in 1829. The audience was very patient because I had to change costumes without any help! In later years, during costume changes, I used narrations recorded on tapes to give information about the dances in the program and their cultural background in order to keep the audience entertained and engaged while I changed.
Kyoganoko Musume Dojoji (1972)
Arrival in New York
After the American Dance Festival, I decided to study the academic side of dance: its history and aesthetics. I realized that without knowing about dance cultures in the rest of the world, I could not compare and talk about Japanese dance. I needed to gain a wider perspective on dance. In those days, I knew that academic courses on dance such as history, aesthetics, alongside techniques were either at NYU or UCLA. Ultimately, I decided to go to New York City to study at the School of Education at NYU.
New York City was entirely new territory for me. I had no connections there, except for one, Becky Crow. She was a dancer I had met at the American Dance Festival and her parents lived in the city. Thanks to her kindness, I was able to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Crow in the West Village for a week while I got on my feet.
After my interview with the Chair of the NYU dance department, Dr. Patricia Rowe, I was accepted as a student. With that settled, I had to find a place to live and a part time job, one that was permitted to foreign students. I saw a job posting on the bulletin board of the school: live-in nanny for two children, Matthew and Samantha Gold. Mrs. Judy Gold was studying social studies and had a two-fold need: a babysitter during the academic year and an international student to expose her children to other cultures. She decided I fit the bill. Thus, I became a member of the Gold family for two years—and friends for many decades afterwards.
The first memory that comes to mind with the children was our “Mop Dance” for their father Arthur's birthday. Samantha was a star princess and Matthew held a mop, moving right and left representing the universe as the background. I danced Mitsumen Komori. Almost three decades after my living with them, having kept in touch on and off, I was invited to their Thanksgiving dinner. We all talked about that memorable performance. Matthew’s son was the same age as Matthew was when I used to take care of him, and a happy surprise it was to see the little boy behaving just like Matthew did when he was five years old.
In 1973, I began performing for AllNations Dance Company under the direction of Herman Rotenberg, headquartered at International House at Columbia University. I toured many states from Maine to Alaska with wonderful artists such as Noell, who became a Chair at Brooklyn College Dance Department; Hope, who was versatile in Indian and Flamenco dance; Chin, a Filipina, who became an actress later in her career; and Rick, a Hawaiian dancer. I remember we used to work together to make a fun-filled finale after each person’s traditional dance.
Once we chose Noel’s Voodoo dance, and in the height of hypnotized frenzy, my hair bun fell off, which Chin kicked away behind the back curtain. What a relief it was as the action seemed less than a second! We were such a friendly team, and I believe we learned a lot from each other's art with respect and love. I still cherish many memories of our tour and performances.
The AllNations Company, the Concert Hering Auditorium flyer, University of Alaska (1975)
Sachiyo Ito told a story of Urashima… Her movements were perfectly controlled in a fashion different from the dance of the West, yet fascinating and lovely. Hiroshige print come to life.”
“Down East with AllNations Company”
— Judith Boothby, Dance Magazine (April 1975)
Another supporter of early days in Tokyo and the U.S. was Mrs. Grace Peyton, though as I recall, neither I nor others ever addressed her by her first name but rather by her husband’s name, Mrs. Alton Peyton. She was the chairwoman of the Officers’ Wives Club at U.S. Camp Zama in Japan, where I used to teach during my college days from 1970 to 1972. Her husband returned to the Army base in Augusta after his tour in Japan. Thanks to her introduction, I also received the Peace International Scholarship, which made my study at NYU possible in 1973.
We maintained our relationship, and she helped arrange my performance at Augusta College in Georgia in 1973, which was my first U.S. performance outside of the Northeast. She also arranged a luncheon performance for wives of officers at the base. The memory of the beautiful flowers there, which at first, I thought were cherry blossoms but were actually dogwoods, is still in my heart like a picture-perfect postcard. The beautiful full-blown dogwood trees were so gorgeous and breathtaking—they were just like cherry blossoms from a distance. For a moment, it felt as if Japan, which seemed so far away, was very close. It was a brief moment of homecoming which I will always treasure.
In the summer of 1974, I was invited to perform at the Ethnic Dance Festival in Barnstable, MA. The Founder and Director of the festival was La Meri, a legendary ethnic and modern dancer, versed in many styles of dance, particularly in Indian and Spanish. She introduced various ethnic dance forms to the world. I was impressed and inspired by her continuing her mission into old age. Her beauty was striking, even at the age of 76. I remember an evening conversation with her; she was emanating radiance into the darkness of the night and was so full of life. In the 1990s, I returned to Barnstable to teach a course called Language and Culture of Japan at the community college there. I went over to the theater, hoping to find that La Meri’s legacy was being continued but I was told that there had not been a summer festival held there for several years. Of course, I said to myself, times have changed. But her beauty, both inside and out, still lingers as if shining a light onto the path of my life.
Last night Sachiyo Ito, the young Japanese classical dancer, gave a performance of rare beauty and exquisite refinement. . . . It would seem to be a symposium of all the arts. Poetry, drama, painting.”
“Sachiyo Ito dances show rare beauty.“
— Evelyn Lawson, Cape Cod Standard-Times (July 12, 1974)
Keeping the Dream
In 1973 I met Beate Gordon and showed her my dancing at the theatre of Japan House, now called Japan Society. After this audition, she chose me as an artist to introduce the arts and culture of Japan to schools in the tri-state area. I began working for Japan House’s education department, teaching dance and culture at public schools. Later, when Beate moved to Asia Society, my work began as their Kabuki consultant and touring artist. Many may know her as an important figure in Japanese history: She drafted the Women’s Rights section of the new Japanese Constitution that went into effect in 1947 after World War II.
In those days, the 1970s, words such as “Kabuki” and “kimono” were hardly known. I used to go to schools with maps of the world and Japan, photographs of Mt. Fuji, Kabuki dances, stage costumes, tea ceremony scenes, Ikebana flower arrangement, and more, to talk about arts and culture of Japan, and show demonstrations to young students. It was first through Beate that I finally began to realize my dream of introducing the beautiful art of Japanese dance to the United States as a grassroots work. Not only did I work for her educational programs, but I also gave many recitals of my own at Japan House.
Further, Beate’s father, Leo Sirota, was a well-known pianist. When Beate found out that my mother was a fan of her father's and had attended his concerts, Beate asked to meet her. She was charmed by my mother’s outgoing personality and enjoyed meeting with her whenever my mother visited me in New York.
Beate Gordon’s obituary with Sachiyo Ito’s dance dedication in Shukan NY Seikatsu, 2013
Beate Gordon (seated, far left) with Sachiyo Ito’s mother (third from right) and Sachiyo Ito (far right)
My relationship with Japan Society has continued to this day in the Performing Arts Department and Education Department.
Japan Society advertisement with Sachiyo Ito in “Sagi Musume” (“Heron Maiden”)
Original Photo by Thomas Harr. Also appeared in The New York Times Magazine (October 1976), Sports Illustrated (November 1976), and New York Magazine (December 1976).
Sachiyo Ito performs “Haru no Umi” (“Spring Sea”) at Japan House. Photo by Ray Smith.
I left New York after receiving my MA from the NYU School of Education’s dance department in1974, as my student visa had expired. But in 1975, I was invited to teach Japanese dance and culture in that very department. I resumed performing for Japan House/Society. Also, I was fortunate to be able to give recitals at their theater. One of the eight reviews by The New York Times about Japan House/Society performances was titled “Control and Grace in Miss Ito’s Dance” by Don McDonagh (1974). I was flattered by the description of me as having “control and grace” since those two words express the essence of Japanese dance and teaching principles. Looking back, the impression often captured by dance critics of my performances in those years such as "a model of control and refinement" in Dance Magazine (1976), also reflected the essence of my teaching that I have aimed at and keep pursuing through my life.
I also began showing my own works in the ‘70s. One of them was a series of dances inspired by Chieko-sho, the poems written by Takamura Kotaro. Being a classical dancer, I had to hold a breath in presenting my creations, knowing my boldness.
“Chieko Genso” (“Chieko the Elements”) at Japan House
“Sachiyo Ito, an expressive and powerful performer, is, at the same time, touchingly delicate.” “Who are the Watchers, Who the Dancers?”
— Deborah Jowitt, The Village Voice (February 12, 1979)
I have had the fortune of meeting these people as mentioned above early in my career, which encouraged my mission. Their support was invaluable while I navigated the culture shocks that came with moving from Tokyo to New York in the 1970s.
New York in the 1970s was much more dangerous than it is today. I experienced harassment, muggings, and robberies that I would have never encountered in Tokyo. And as an immigrant, I experienced further hardships surrounding my visa. But none of this prevented me from doing the work I wanted to do and develop. I had supporters such as mentioned above in this chapter. Furthermore, one of my thoughts about life is that “difficulties will occur wherever you are.” My challenges in New York may have been different from those I would have faced in Tokyo, but I would have faced difficulties there as well. The idea strengthened my resolve to move forward.
My financial situation was not something I could tell my mother back home, because I had to seem to be “doing well” for her. I could not complain about any difficulties I encountered. Because she turned down her dream of continuing to be an artist, she entrusted, so to speak, her dream to me by allowing me to leave Japan to pursue my dream. I wonder if others who have left their home country or hometown faced a similar situation.
I must say, looking back at those days, it seems unbelievable that so many people helped to start the life of a Japanese girl with ambition. Just this past summer, I found at my home in Tokyo many letters and pieces of correspondence with those who offered me everything from a night’s lodging or simple jobs to help me survive day to day to public dancing opportunities that became the base for performances in places unknown.
I can only bow to everyone I met with deep gratitude, even those who have caused me difficult situations, for I have learned so much from all these experiences.
The posting of this chapter to JapanCulture-NYC.com was paid for by Sachiyo Ito and reprinted here with her permission. Susan Miyagi McCormac of JapanCultureNYC, LLC edited this chapter for grammatical purposes only and did not write or fact-check any information. For more information about Sachiyo Ito and Company, please visit dancejapan.com. ©Sachiyo Ito. All rights reserved.
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