Sumo pioneer Takamiyama recalls his historic win

TOKYO >> Even now, as Sunday’s 45th anniversary of his historic sumo championship approaches, Jesse Kuhaulua said he remembers the sweltering summer heat of Nagoya most of all.

The over-taxed ceiling fans at the Aichi Prefectural Gym merely spread the humid air around the jam-packed arena in the shadow of the 360-year-old Nagoya castle on the final day of the 1972 Nagoya Basho sumo tournament.

For Kuhaulua, who was contending for his first tournament championship, there was enough anticipation to make him sweat well before he stepped under the glare of NHK’s TV lights.

“I’d never been in a situation like that,” acknowledged the man who competed under the ring name Takamiyama. Not until he’d won 10 matches, Kuhaulua said, did he begin to think about contending for the title.

Along with the pressure of being the first foreigner to contend for the Emperor’s Cup, there was the presence of the U.S. ambassador, who was poised to read a congratulatory message from the president in expectation of a milestone victory.

Then, there was the matter of his opponent. Asahikuni was everything — small (5 feet, 8 inches, 267 pounds), agile and a brilliant technician (known as the “PhD” of sumo technique) — the 6-foot, 3-inch, 365-pound former Baldwin High football player was not.

Yet, when the 15-second bout was over, the Maui native having edged his opponent out of the ring for a 13th victory in the 15-bout tournament, there would be a thunderous ovation. And, after having toweled the sweat from brow, tears.

“Your sincere dedication to this sport has won you the respect of your Japanese hosts. Your performance has also won the admiration of your countrymen,” President Richard Nixon’s message read.

In some ways neither Kuhaulua nor the once-alien sport he had taken up would be the same.

Kuhaulua, now 73, and surrounded by the trappings of a 45-year sumo career in his Tokyo home, remembers being a 28-year-old journeyman. Somebody, “just trying to hang on” in the upper division of sumo. The goal, he recalls, was to last until he was “30, or maybe a little older.”

Nearly 20 recruits from Hawaii and dozens more from other countries would follow Kuhaulua into sumo.

Four from Hawaii — Salevaa Atisanoe (Konishiki), Chad Rowan (Akebono), Fiamalu Penitani (Musashimaru) and George Kalima (Yamato) — would eventually reach the highest division, two — Akebono and Musashimaru — claiming sumo’s most exalted rank, yokozuna.

Before Kuhaulua, all of it was unimaginable. When he stepped off a plane to Japan in the winter of 1964, a raw, barely initiated 19-year-old recruit, few gave him much chance to make any kind of a mark in the centuries-old sport.

His stablemaster, Takasago, was ridiculed for the attempt. And Kuhaulua was sometimes so lonely he rode the Yamanote Line train in circles around Tokyo.

But through perseverance and determination he rose up the ranks, eventually settling into an elevator-like up-and-down rhythm. Then came the breakthrough at Nagoya and the promotion to sekiwake, sumo’s third-highest rank. The triumph, along with his distinctive look and out-going personality, made him a hot commercial property selling everything from futons to TV sets.

At home in Hawaii, his success was celebrated with a motorcade from Honolulu International Airport that took him to the three-year-old state Capitol, where a lunchtime crowd estimated at 2,500 overflowed the courtyard and ringed the railings.

Reports at the time compared it with the welcome Duke Kahanamoku received after returning from his gold-medal-winning swimming performance at the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm.

Kuhaulua went on to an ironman career, retiring from the ring just short of his 40th birthday and then becoming a successful stablemaster until reaching the mandatory retirement age of 65.

These days when the Nagoya tournament rolls around, Kuhaulua’s place in history is never far behind.

Reach Ferd Lewis at flewis@staradvertiser.com or 529-4820.