By popular demand. Well, only one demand really, but that was enough for me to reminisce.
In the mid- to late eighties I worked at Moon Basket, a futon store in Berkeley. I found out about it when I ran into a Japanese woman who I had met a few times at parties in Kyoto, when I lived in Japan from 1973 to 1977. I ran into her walking down the street in Berkeley – “Hello??? I know you! What are you doing here?!” What a surprise! It turned out that she had married an American guy and they had moved to Berkeley. I don’t remember her name, but she worked at Moon Basket and got me a job there; a fortunate coincidence.
The owner of Moon Basket was a Japanese expatriate named Fu who combined creative ingenuity with solid common sense, which guaranteed the success of her store. I don’t know when it first opened, but by the time I worked there a number of other futon-selling specialty shops existed: in San Francisco, in Oakland, and even Berkeley had another one, if I remember correctly. But none of them were serious competition for Moon Basket, for a number of reasons: the futons were made in the traditional Japanese way, by Japanese women. Fu’s husband, Mino, was a woodworker who crafted beautiful frames in a variety of natural colors. One could also get tatami mats, for a truly authentic Japanese experience.
What mats, you may ask? The floor in a Japanese house is covered with tatami mats which have a thick core of rice straw and a covering of woven soft rush. The futon is placed directly onto the tatami-covered floor which may feel uncomfortably hard for Westerners used to softer mattresses. It is, however, highly beneficial for the spine, and many people experience relief from lower back pain after sleeping on a harder surface for an extended time period. An additional benefit of futon use: during the day it gets rolled up and stored in a closet, freeing up space. No need for a separate bedroom!
Please excuse my little transgression. The memory of traditional Japanese houses and their simple, elegant interior carried me away a little. Apparently, houses built today “often have few tatami-floored rooms, if any” – that’s sad.
Moon Basket was a hub for Japanese emigrants, mostly women who found the way they were treated by men and their country’s society in general too stifling and restrictive. I don’t know how much this has changed over the last fifty years; as a “gaijin” – literally, an “alien” or “outside person” – I wasn’t subjected to this patriarchal treatment of women, but I witnessed it all around me and it was unpleasant.
One such woman is the successful artist and printmaker Mayumi Oda, a good friend of Fu’s who at the time lived in Marin County near the Green Gulch Farm Zen Center. She created a poster for Moon Basket that was prominently displayed in the store and was used for ads in local papers.
Besides customers, Moon Basket attracted an eclectic mix of talented actors, performance artists, dancers, singers, fashion designers and musicians who worked and played together. There was Reiko, bass guitarist and lead vocalist of an all-female punk band. Ruthie (or Lucy, in Japanese), a flamboyant chanteuse and dancer from Canada. And adorable Sakura who usually had several guys swooning at her feet — to her chagrin, they never had any money. But my favorite co-worker was Hiroko. She turned ordinary activities such as cooking lunch or selling a futon into exquisite performance art. Her movements were graceful and funny, fluid and quirky, reminding me of Marcel Marceau. It made total sense when I learned that she was a professional dancer.
Hiroko and her husband Koichi Tamano had been disciples of Tatsumi Hijikata, the founder of a dance- and performance style that came to be known as Ankoku Butoh. Grotesque and dark, it attempts to capture the essence, the innermost truth of being through an almost shattering intensity. The focus and concentration of the dancer become so point-like, so red hot, that it feels like a piercing bolt of lightning. One almost forgets to breathe as one experiences the immense energy flowing from the performer.
The Tamanos studied for over ten years with Hijikata who eventually sent them to the United States to bring Butoh to the West. In the late seventies, they settled in the San Francisco/Bay Area where they founded their dance company Harupin Ha, a name that Hijikata chose for them. They bought a big old house in Berkeley that served as living space, studio, crash pad for transitory guests, meeting hall, and dance floor. They started teaching people, and gradually turned into living legends — Japan’s emperor declared Koichi a national treasure, and in 2005 Hiroko and Koichi received the Isadora Duncan Award. They have performed throughout Japan, France, Germany, Mexico and the United States.
In 1990 they performed together with Laurie Anderson and Bobby McFerrin at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, for the AID and Comfort II Concert. Hiroko got me a back-stage pass because she knew how much I adored Laurie Anderson and how happy I’d be to meet her in person. There’s even some photographs of the four of us together – Laurie, Hiroko and Tamachan, and me! I still have an autographed copy of the program, the only autograph I ever asked for.
In October of 2021 Hiroko Tamano was honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award from the New York Butoh Institute.
We have lost touch since I moved to New Mexico, except for a very loose Facebook connection. Because of this, I know that they have at least one grandson and maybe some great-grandchildren? Koichi celebrated his 70th birthday a few years ago, and Hiroko must be close to 70 as well. She is still performing, teaching, and giving classes. Ganbatte, my friends.
Having lived and worked in the Berkeley area in the 70s and 80s, this story resonates with me. I used to shop at Moon Basket for fabric and other things to go with the Asian themed dolls I made. Thank you. One time I needed an origami piece for a 8 inch doll. What do you know, someone there made one tiny crane and a small ball. I was so touched by that kindness and cleverness.
🎉❤️