Memories of Tsurunoya

It has already been three and a half years since Tsurunoya, the popular kappo restaurant located in the basement of the Mita-dori Kikai Kogu Kaikan, closed its doors. It was supposed to reopen soon, but the sudden passing of the owner, Chi-san (the late Mr. Takashi Watanabe), made the grand reopening a dream, yet it still exists in our hearts today.

In light of this, the Keio History Museum is holding an exhibition titled "When Tsurunoya Was in Mita" from September 20 to October 17 (a 360-degree tour of the exhibition room is scheduled to be released soon). I would like to take this opportunity to share some memories of Tsurunoya.

Mr. Hamada, you worked part-time in the kitchen at Tsurunoya when you were a Juku student, didn't you?

When I moved up to my third year in the Department of Political Science at the Faculty of Law and started commuting to Mita, I used to go to Tsurunoya often to drink. One day, Mama (the late Shizuko Watanabe) scouted me, asking, "Hamada-kun, why don't you work part-time?"

I was in the Keio University Cheerleading Team (Leader Department), so I would call out to my classmates and juniors, and we would form shifts of two or three people a day to work in the kitchen three or four times a week.

It started with washing dishes. I had a very unique classmate named Komotori-kun who absolutely hated simple tasks like washing dishes. So, he started making things himself.

There was a scary chef named Mr. Kimura, and when he saw that, he said, "Then you guys do it too," and we started making various dishes. I feel like I learned everything from grilled items to yakitori and fried chicken little by little. The instruction was strict, in the Showa style.

Was there a tradition of successive generations of the Keio University Cheerleading Team working part-time in the kitchen?

No, it started with our generation. The older generations went to the restaurant often, but they didn't work there.

There were students in the kitchen when I was a student, so they must have been students from the Keio University Cheerleading Team.

Mr. Kitai, how did you start going there?

I think I was in my third or fourth year of undergraduate studies. The first time was when Vice-President (Juro) Iwatani, who was in the same year as me, took me there.

Since he was Keio through and through, he probably had a lot of information. We happened to be in the same class, and since we had a little time, we would go there for a quick drink before class started and then head to the lecture.

That's unthinkable nowadays (laughs).

Well, I was over 20 at the time (laughs). As a student with no money, Tsurunoya was cheap and much appreciated. I would go there occasionally with friends, and after my seminar finished, I'd go with my seminar classmates.

That was how it was during my undergraduate years, but once I became a graduate student, I went to Tsurunoya almost exclusively. The world was in the bubble era, but graduate students had no money and lived a humble existence, so Tsurunoya was the only place to go. Papa-san (Mr. Noriyoshi Watanabe, "Jiiji") and Mama-san were very kind to me.

In 1993, when I started teaching at the university and had my own seminar, I began taking my students there literally every week.

Speaking of Tsurunoya, I think of Professor Koichiro Kurasawa's seminar. Have you heard anything about how the Kurasawa seminar first encountered Tsurunoya?

This is a story I heard from the seniors of the seminar. Long ago, there was another restaurant they used to go to besides Tsurunoya, but as the number of seminar students increased, it became too cramped, and they shifted their focus entirely to Tsurunoya. That seems to have been in the early 1970s.

From then on, it seems the pattern of "Tsurunoya after the seminar" or "the seminar before Tsurunoya" (laughs) continued.

Therefore, in the Kurasawa seminar, people clearly spent more time at Tsurunoya than in the classroom. I might get in trouble with those involved, but I think there's a bit of ambiguity as to whether our alma mater is Tsurunoya, the Mita Campus, or both.

Mr. Takada, you yourself went to Tsurunoya from the very first day you entered graduate school at Mita.

I graduated from the Faculty of Law at Waseda University in 1988, entered the master's program at Waseda, and had so much fun that I took my time for four years (laughs). When I entered the master's program, my mentor, Professor Koichiro Kurasawa, was coming from Mita to Waseda to teach as a part-time lecturer. He took great care of me, and when I felt I couldn't stay at Waseda any longer, I thought that if I followed this professor, I could pursue even more interesting academic work.

So one day I asked him, "May I go to Mita?" and I went to the seminar at Mita. When it finished, the seminar members at the time asked me, "Mr. Takada, would you like to go to a place called Tsurunoya?" and that was my first time. So, actually, I made my Tsurunoya debut before I even entered graduate school at Mita (laughs).

Even though Tokyo Tower was right in front of me, once I crossed Sakurada-dori, I saw a shop with lanterns hanging. When I went down to the basement, it was like the 1960s—it was astonishing. It's a wonderful memory.

It really is another world once you go down to the basement. Looking from the kitchen where I worked, there were tatami seating areas spread out in an inverted L-shape, and on the far right, there was a place called the "ko-agari" (raised seating area) that could only seat about eight people. Then there were tables. It felt like it could hold about 120 people in total.

There was a jukebox, wasn't there? That had been broken for more than 10 years before the restaurant closed.

Actually, it started playing again. I think they repaired it at some point.

Is that so?

It was broken for a long time, but in my memory, it was working for just the last few years before closing. It had that really muffled Showa-era sound.

I was in the kitchen from around 1978 to 1981. At that time, songs like Saki Kubota's "Ihoujin" or Mirei Kitahara's "Ishikari Banka" were playing.

In the Tsurunoya building, above the Kikai Kogu Kaikan, there was a president of a trade journal who seemed to run it alone, and he came every day. He would always be drinking alone, putting money in the jukebox, and singing along to his favorite songs (laughs).

And the walls were covered with Sanshokuki pennants. So, as a stage set, it was the best (laughs). If anything, it's a shop that doesn't look like Keio. Even so, many Juku students, Keio University alumni, and professors gathered and had a lively time. Looking back now, I think that stage set was amazing.

The stage really stands out, doesn't it?

A shop with that many pennants displayed... at Waseda, you might find that in a coffee shop that serves as a clubroom for the Athletic Association or a circle, but it's probably not a place where anyone can just walk in casually.

There are various ones from different seminars, circles, or groups of volunteers, so it's a bit unusual. That kind of miscellaneous collection is displayed all over the walls.

And since many office workers from Tamachi also came, there was a sense that Juku students, Keio University alumni, professors, and office workers were all somehow blending together.

Even the office workers—those who were Keio graduates and used to come in the past—would bring people who weren't from Keio.

Those people would become fans too. It really has a broad appeal.

One day, Chi-san said to me, "Kita-chan, let me introduce you to someone; he's from Shiga Prefecture." You don't often meet people from Shiga in Tokyo, so I was surprised to find out we went to the same high school (Torahime High School). That was Mr. Matsuyama, a Keio economics graduate.

Mr. Matsuyama was a very proactive person, and we became close from then on. He was the one who suggested planning the 50th-anniversary celebration for Tsurunoya on November 3, 2018.

I was suddenly told by a senior to do it, so I made various preparations and reached out to people. I was also helped by people related to Mr. Matsuyama's company.

I think it was in 2017. I went to Tsurunoya for a drink with my senior rugby teammates, whom I still play with, and Keiko-san (Ms. Keiko Kato, Mama's younger sister) or Chi-san introduced me to Mr. Kitai and Mr. Matsuyama, and they dragged me into it as well.

That really was a matter of fate. I had heard that people from the Keio University Cheerleading Team were deeply involved, but I had no direct connection, and that was the first time I met you.

Then, when I heard Mr. Hamada's story about how he used to cook in the kitchen, I thought, "That's amazing," that there's someone with such a deep relationship with Tsurunoya.

For this upcoming exhibition, you did a demonstration to recreate Tsurunoya's signature dishes, didn't you?

Yes. We did it in July, renting a free kitchen space in Azabu-juban.

First, we had to decide what to make. We decided on yosenabe (hot pot) and pork kogane-age, and we bought and brought in the ingredients. We actually cooked the pork kogane-age. For the yosenabe, the ingredients sink when you heat it, so we just did the arrangement. We gave those two dishes to someone in the Kappabashi tool district who makes food samples. Based on that, they are making samples for the exhibition.

I see. Did you eat the kogane-age you made?

Yes. It was delicious. Since I worked there half a century ago, I wasn't confident in my ability to make it, so I said, "Let's do it like this," and had Ms. Kozu, an alumna of the Keio University Cheerleading Team two years my junior, do the cooking.

So it is reproducible.

The recipe remained in my head.

Speaking of deep connections, Mr. Takada also has a deep involvement with Tsurunoya, having held his wedding after-party there.

That's amazing.

Well, I think many people have had their celebrations there. I have attended other people's parties as well, so I'm just one example.

I also got my own seminar in '95, and in June of that year, I got married. After having a reception for relatives, we continued at Tsurunoya. Of course, Professor Kitai came as well. In the first place, I met my wife at that ko-agari (laughs).

That's incredible.

I was introduced to her as a relative of a student whom Mr. Kitai also looks after, and that happened at the ko-agari.

A deep fate (laughs).

I wonder if there are others who had their after-parties there.

I know of two others.

My after-party was intended to be like the usual Tsurunoya drinking session, so it was just like any other day.

Wedding after-parties are happy occasions, but I once messed up at an after-party. I used to take my seminar students there almost every week, but one time, the students selfishly said they wanted to drink at a different restaurant for a change. So, we went to another restaurant that week.

Then we were kicked out after about two hours, and since they said they couldn't go home like this, I went to Tsurunoya and asked, "It's for an after-party, is it okay?" The late Mama got very angry and said, "What are you coming here for at this hour?" and I was banned from entering for about three months.

You were banned?

I got banned, and during that time, I had no place to go, which was very difficult (laughs).

I went there occasionally even after graduating, but not as frequently as Mr. Matsuyama. Mr. Matsuyama is really something else.

It's close, after all. Mr. Matsuyama was from NEC. There are quite a few people from NEC.

NEC is probably the most common company for office workers, isn't it? One reason so many different people came is that the people at that shop really didn't flatter their customers. If you crossed them, the founder, the Mama, Keiko-san, and Chi—they'd get angry at anyone, whether they were Keio students or professors. I think that's really amazing. We need shops like that.

That's true. You don't have to put on a formal face; they treat you normally, just as you are in your everyday clothes. I don't think there are many shops like that.

I'm a junior, so I don't have as many stories as my seniors, but when I first started going there, I'd often drop by alone and talk with the Mama about various things, including family matters.

One time, I complained about something trivial regarding my family. She slapped me and got seriously angry. That really hit home. It felt like the late Mama and her sister treated you as family rather than a customer. It happened quite naturally.

And it was cheap. Anyway, an alumni or I would just put down a bottle of shochu, eat whatever, and students would be fine with 1,000 or 2,000 yen each. Plus, it stayed open late, so there was no need to go anywhere else. It was truly a blessing.

The first time I visited the shop, I must have looked surprised, because the professor said happily, "Here, when graduates treat their juniors, they just leave a bottle; there's no charge for water or ice."

I heard that juniors always came here because they could drink the bottled liquor cheaply, and I realized a whole system was in place. There was also the kind consideration that if the seminar students living in lodgings were hungry, they should all eat together, and do so while drinking with as little financial burden as possible.

To be honest, now that Tsurunoya is gone, I have nowhere to take my seminar students, and I'm really in a bind.

Also, I can't forget how senior professors would often drop by. One time, only the corner seat of the left desk right by the entrance was open, so I sat there. Then, a late senior professor from the Faculty of Law wandered in and asked, "Is this spot okay?"

You can't say no, right? He sat down heavily, and while I was making myself small, he asked, "Takada-kun, have I succeeded as a scholar?"

Even if he asks you that... (laughs).

It's a difficult question. But even for such a senior professor, he opened his heart in that space. I don't think he would ever say something like that even in his own living room. It was an amazing space.

Another professor who was a famous figure in the Department of Political Science also came in the same way and said, "Hey, is this spot open?" After a while, he said, "Hey, Takada, have you ever been to Shinbashi? I'll take you somewhere good. Call a car." When I caught a taxi outside, he said, "Alright, let's go," and took me to Shinbashi.

The place we arrived at was some kind of traditional geisha-style entertainment spot I'd never seen before. He said, "You've never been to a place like this, have you?" and after drinking for about 30 minutes, he said, "Well, I'm heading home now, so you pay the bill." It's a true story that sounds like a lie.

That's scary.

He was probably looking for someone at Tsurunoya (laughs). He found a convenient target.

I often saw that professor from the Department of Political Science. But he was scary, so I didn't get too close.

And then there was Professor Kazuo Miura from the Faculty of Letters, who was a fixture there. He always sat at the very end of the table. After Professor Miura retired, Professor Masayoshi Tarui took that spot. Today's talk centers on the Faculty of Law, but there are also the traditions of the Faculty of Letters and, of course, the Faculty of Economics.

I often saw Professor Kazuhito Ikeo there, too.

But the ones who went every week with their seminar students were probably only the Kurasawa Seminar, the Takada Seminar, and my seminar. There might not have been many seminars that went every single week.

The Keio University Cheerleading Team didn't go that frequently, but when we had a baseball game at Jingu on a Saturday and won, the third-year students would take us juniors there. That was my first time. The seniors would treat us and let us drink as much beer as we wanted, but the snacks were just the bare minimum, like peanuts. Then, we'd head back to Jingu early the next morning.

There were other Athletic Association teams and clubs that came often. The Automobile Club and the Kabuki Research Society seemed to visit frequently as well.

The Faculty of Law has long designated Thursday as seminar day. So it was easy for everyone to gather on Thursdays. Professor Kurasawa, of course, had his fixed seat, and my seminar would be off in a corner.

Even if they didn't bring their students, other professors from the Faculty of Law would drop by. We often joked that we could hold a faculty meeting at Tsurunoya on Thursdays (laughs).

Professor Kurasawa didn't talk about unrefined things, but for example, if a student who loved studying got a bit tipsy and challenged him in a debate, he would happily teach them all sorts of things. If they got too persistent, he'd tell them to stop because it was making the sake taste bad (laughs). So, it really was a nighttime seminar.

The Kurasawa Seminar would arrive around 6:00, and Professor Kurasawa would head home by about 9:00, wouldn't he?

I heard that a long time ago, everyone used to move on to Golden Gai together.

There's also the famous saying, "No scholarship without Tsurunoya." I believe Mr. Takada wrote that in the dedication of his book.

I say things like that when I'm drunk. But to be honest, I have many pleasant experiences of being taught scholarship at Tsurunoya. In a classroom, it's hard to ask, "What's the real story?" In-depth discussions mostly happened at Tsurunoya.

My mentor never went over time in the classroom. That part would end, but then we'd go for a drink. Then, the best snack to go with sake would turn out to be legal discussions.

When we were attending as graduate students, we talked quite a bit about our studies, and even after becoming faculty and going with seminar students, it wasn't just idle gossip; we'd talk a bit about our studies too.

It's true that it wasn't just a place to drink and play, but also a place and time that served as an extension of the insufficient time in the classroom.

I suppose that space was a place where that was possible.

You often hear people say that working adults shouldn't talk about work while drinking, but for students, including graduate students, and for us researchers, the thing we like most is essentially research and studying.

If we didn't make that a fun time, I feel like that would be more painful. In that sense, I really feel that Tsurunoya was an extension of the Mita Campus. Of course, we talked a lot of nonsense too.

What kind of things did the Keio University Cheerleading Team talk about?

When you're with seniors, you're kind of their plaything. Generally, people who join the Keio University Cheerleading Team or the Athletic Association are the type to accept that, so I think it was fun being teased in a good way and told to "Drink, drink."

When we went with just classmates, we'd start with silly talk and occasionally debate what the Keio University Cheerleading Team should be like.

But the way we drank was completely different when it was just our year, when juniors were there, and when seniors were there. You come to understand those things, so I thought that was also a living education.

In the old days, it was beer, and after that, it was decided we'd drink shochu like Juhyo or sake. It's diversified now. You never know what people will drink. In the last 5 or 10 years before Tsurunoya closed, plum wine was popular, and female students especially drank it often.

I feel like it was nothing but beer when I was a student. I don't think we drank much shochu yet.

My mentor's seminar drank nothing but "Juhyo."

Juhyo was created around 1982 or 1983, I think.

He used to tell us not to drink beer because it was expensive.

That's right. We'd toast with beer at first, but we'd switch to shochu right away.

And it was the "Ko-type" shochu. My late mentor was from the burnt-out ruins and black market generation, so he loved this kind of thing and said it was best because it had no flavor. The closer it was to pure alcohol, the better.

Weren't the Kurasawa Seminar and the Takada Seminar the only ones drinking Juhyo?

In the end, yes. People from my mentor's seminar became successful and would leave a whole case of Juhyo for their juniors. When that happened, the stock would pile up in front of the restroom. It wouldn't run out no matter how much we drank—it was a happy problem (laughs).

My seminar drank shochu too. We started with Iichiko and then various others. We drank things like Akakirishima, but I got tired of shochu halfway through and drank sake.

In the case of the Keio University Cheerleading Team, there were some problematic ways of drinking. It varied slightly by generation, but there was something called the Sanshokuki drink, where you'd alternate between beer, shochu, and sake. The worst was when they'd blend them together and make you drink it. It gave me a terrible hangover (laughs). It's a distant memory of the Showa era, unthinkable today.

When I was working there, the "Jiiji" (Grandpa) would always go off somewhere around 7:30.

Ah, pachinko.

Yes, and he'd usually come back in about an hour, but if he didn't come back even when it got busy, everyone would be grumbling. Mama would get angry and say, "Papa is doing nothing but pachinko again."

However, that Jiiji couldn't drink a drop of alcohol. I wonder if Mama drank. I don't have much of an impression of her drinking.

I've never heard of her drinking.

Chi doesn't drink either. So it might be a family line that doesn't drink much. That's probably why they could look at drunk people with a calm eye.

That's true. People who drink probably couldn't run a shop like that.

We'd end up drinking with the customers, wouldn't we, Professor?

I'm sure we would.

Originally, Jiiji was a manager at a grand cabaret called Copacabana or something, and he worked hard without drinking and opened Tsurunoya. I think he had money. He used to commute in a pretty nice foreign car.

Really?

The family used to live over by Senzoku-ike. If there were classmates from the Keio University Cheerleading Team heading that way, he'd give them a ride in his car.

I played shogi with Jiiji just once.

There was shogi, wasn't there?

Next to the raised tatami area.

That's right. By the shelf. I don't remember exactly how it started, but we ended up playing shogi until about 2:00 a.m. We decided to play while drinking (though of course I was the only one drinking alcohol), and I think we played for about four hours. By then, the trains had stopped running. Chi-san drove me all the way to Itabashi, even though it was probably in the completely opposite direction for him.

I feel very sorry toward Mama. I was in Germany for two years starting in 2001, and Mama passed away during that time. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to attend the funeral. I felt so bad that I couldn't do anything for someone who had been so kind to me; it was a great regret.

When I got married, I didn't even think of it, so I didn't invite her to the reception. Then, Mama went out of her way to bring a gift to the reception venue's reception desk. Seeing that made me realize how poorly I had acted. I've done nothing but be ungrateful; I really shouldn't sleep with my feet pointing toward Tsurunoya.

With all that in mind, we held a 50th-anniversary celebration in November 2018, but a year later, it turned out they were forced to vacate. Kenichi Fujimoto, a lawyer whom Mr. Takada knows well, fought hard against the eviction, but since the building itself had to be demolished, it was decided to close in December 2019. The new location had already been decided at that time.

Was that location already decided?

Yes. We were closing for the time being but planned to reopen on June 10, so we decided to hold a farewell party. On December 28, 2019, Mr. Matsuyama told me, "Kitai, you handle it," so I organized it. Mr. Hamada came then too, and the Wagner Society came to perform. Professor Shuhei Shiozawa of the Faculty of Economics, who was the director of the Wagner Society, actually brought his flute and played for us.

We were able to hold it thanks to everyone's cooperation. As I recall, the next day, the 29th, was a Sunday, and the 30th was the actual final day. Alumni from the Kurasawa Seminar were also there.

In the end, toward the closing days, it was the same members every night (laughs).

It was truly lively until the very end. Since we naturally assumed it would reopen, we thought it was just a temporary period of patience. The interior of the new shop was completely finished, and all the pennants and other decorations had been moved there.

In a situation where all that was left was to open the shop, Chi-san unfortunately passed away. That is how Mr. Tokura came to take over those pennants and display them in this exhibition.

I wonder if we can somehow create a shop with a similar concept in the neighborhood through the efforts of those involved. If one could say, "Without Tsurunoya, there is no scholarship," then it would mean there is no scholarship now (laughs). That would be a serious matter.

Perhaps we could get broad but modest support through crowdfunding for the funds. While everyone's memories are still fresh.

I hope this exhibition serves as a catalyst.

That's true. As you mentioned earlier, what you learn in the classroom is different from what you learn outside of it. Even Yukichi Fukuzawa studied hard, but he also drank quite a bit at Ogata Koan's Tekijuku, didn't he?

Everyone says that as an excuse to drink (laughs).

For students, there was a long period during COVID where they couldn't drink even if they wanted to, and there were few points of contact to connect with people. So, I think there are many students seeking that now. If we don't fill that gap and this void becomes the norm, people will never gather again.

To be a place you can go every week, it has to be quite cheap, and it's very helpful when seniors leave a bottle for others. Then, alumni come thinking, "It's after the seminar, so they must be drinking today." The fact that it was a shop where it was easy to build such connections with alumni was very significant.

It's a routine in a good sense. An extension of the campus.

To use a bit of logic, you can't drink and debate in a classroom, nor can you have no-holds-barred discussions or open up about the troubles of youth there. That leads to the conclusion that such a place is necessary. If we call that place "Tsurunoya," it is something similar to what is in our hearts, and we must create a place that can be passed on to the next generation.

Keio University includes both current students and alumni. I feel there should be a place for Keio University that isn't just the campus.

I read this in a newspaper column or something, but the rakugo storyteller Danshi Tatekawa apparently said that alcohol doesn't make people useless; rather, alcohol makes people realize that they are useless beings.

Ah, I see. That's true for me too. It might be true for others as well. Thinking about Tsurunoya brought that to mind.

Now that it's gone, I realize its significance. It's not just a matter of being troubled because there's no shop to take students to; it was truly one of the great charms of Mita.

There's nowhere else like it.

Thank you very much for all the stories today.