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CHAPTER THREE

Airman Suenaka

We all have a point where our earliest memories begin. For most, it is perhaps our third or fourth year; for others, it might be earlier, recollection triggered by some momentous event that burns itself into our consciousness. For Suenaka, his earliest memories are of December 8, 1941, when he and his family were returning home from an outing and suddenly the skies over Honolulu were filled with Japanese Zero fighter planes dancing with American aircraft during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Though just eighteen months old, his memories sketchy at best, Suenaka can recall the day. One image stands out in his mind—the sound of machine gun fire as he watched from a bunker two planes engaged in a dogfight overhead. “For some reason, I remember seeing fireballs. It’s something a person doesn’t forget.”

It might have been this unforgettable early glimpse of air combat that led Suenaka to investigate becoming an Air Force fighter pilot. However, his initial enthusiasm was cooled somewhat by the gradual realization of the lengthy study necessary to attain that goal. First, he would need a college degree. Then, he would attend Officer’s Preparatory School. And then, if he made it that far, he would move on to actual pilot training. Nevertheless, he was determined to give it a shot.

After completing boot camp at Lackland Air Base in San Antonio, Texas, in December 1958, electrician and Airman 3rd Class Roy Suenaka was assigned to Mather Air Force Base, the ATC (Air Training Command) and SAC (Strategic Air Command) base in Sacramento, California. After enrolling in Sacramento College to study electrical engineering, top priority was finding a place to practice martial arts. Just a few months after arrival and with Yamamoto Sensei’s blessing, Suenaka began teaching aikido at the Mather Air Base gym. He also landed a part-time job with the San Juan school district teaching judo, plus some aikido, at Encino High School two hours a day, three days a week, for which he was paid the handsome sum of ten dollars an hour. For a young man in the early 1960’s, it was excellent money, especially since the Air Force already paid for his housing and medical care on top of his base salary.

As aikido was in its infant stage in the United States, Suenaka’s aikido classes, modest though they were, made him one of the first people to teach organized aikido on the U.S. mainland. While it seems logical that there may have been other aikidoka who opened earlier schools on the mainland, probably U.S. servicemen who began their studies in Japan, documentation is scarce. Eugene Combs, who was introduced to Yoshinkan aikido at the Army’s Camp Drake outside Tokyo in 1955, opened the American School of Aikido in Lawndale, California in 1956, making him one of the first to teach the art on the U.S. mainland. In May of 1953, about four months after his initial arrival in Hawaii, Koichi Tohei traveled to San Jose, California to conduct an aikido demonstration there, while Kenji Tomiki traveled to the U.S. mainland one month later at the invitation of the U.S. Air Force (more on this later). However, these latter two events were demonstrations only. Besides Combs, the first wave of aikidoka to teach on the mainland were born of Koichi Tohei’s 1953 Hawaiian visit, and included not only Suenaka, but Tokuji Hirata, who began teaching aikido in San Diego around the same time Suenaka arrived in Sacramento, and Isao Takahashi, who moved to Los Angeles in 1959, becoming chief instructor at the Los Angeles Aikikai. Other Hawaiian aikidoka who subsequently emigrated to the mainland include Roderick Kobayashi, Clem Yoshida, Harry Ishisaka (who commenced his aikido study after moving to Southern California), and Ben Sekishiro, all of whom commenced their aikido studies after Suenaka’s departure from Hawaii (with the exception of Kobayashi, who began his study in 1957).

Much like his father, Suenaka took every opportunity he could to investigate and, in some cases, study as many different arts offered in the area as he could. In particular, while in Sacramento, Suenaka developed a brief friendship with noted tang soo do instructor Mariano “Cisco” Estioko, and occasionally studied with him on an informal basis as time allowed. Studying different arts, no matter how briefly, whenever the opportunity presented itself was a conscious practice for Suenaka, meant to provide him with as broad a martial reference base as possible. Just as his street-fighting experience, both during his youth in Hawaii and his later days as a serviceman in Japan and Okinawa, provided him with “real world” proofs for his primary disciplines of aikido and karate, Suenaka’s constant study of other systems and styles enabled him to judge with authority the worth of a given technique, to say with authority, “This might work in this situation, but not in that one,” or “This technique from style A could be countered with this technique from style B.” It is due in large part to his extensive experience that Suenaka Sensei later came to discount so-called “advanced” techniques, regardless of system (including aikido), modifying or casting aside those techniques vulnerable to kaeshi (countering) and concentrating instead on proven fundamental methods. To him, the simpler and more direct a technique, the broader its potential applications and the fewer the chances for failure. It is out of this conviction that one of Suenaka Sensei’s guiding philosophies was born: “Advanced techniques are merely the basics performed better.”

In addition to teaching in Sacramento, Suenaka gave several demonstrations in the city and surrounding area, including one in San Francisco’s Veteran’s Hospital. It may have been at one of these demonstrations that Suenaka came to the attention of actor and producer Ben Alexander, perhaps best-remembered by most as Sgt. Frank Smith in the early seasons of the Dragnet television series. Alexander hosted a local television talent show. One day, Suenaka received in the mail an invitation to appear on the show to discuss this new and strange martial art, aikido. The appearance went well, and several months later, Suenaka received another invitation to appear on the program, this time to demonstrate aikido technique.

Suenaka opted to perform the demonstration with his uke (demonstration partner) using a “live” (or sharp) blade, a bayonet from an Ml Garand (minus the rifle, of course). After the first few techniques, Suenaka’s uke came charging in with a munetsuki attack (a thrust to the belly). Suenaka turned to the side, preparing to execute kote-gaeshi (a wrist-cutting throw). The uke, however, anticipating what Suenaka Sensei was about to do, “choked” his attack, changing the angle and following Suenaka’s turn, thrusting the foot-long blade full-speed directly at Suenaka’s abdomen. Suenaka was able to pivot out of the way of the altered thrust, though just barely—the blade penetrated his gi, barely missing his flesh as Suenaka captured the uke’s wrist and, reflexively, delivered a kote-gaeshi so powerful, the wrist was fractured. The uke collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, the studio audience burst into wild applause, and Alexander quickly cut to a commercial, ending the demonstration. Suenaka was not invited back. Though gratified that his training saved his life, Suenaka is not proud of the incident, stating: “We were young.”

In late 1960, twenty year-old Suenaka reluctantly gave up his dreams of becoming a pilot, his early fervor quelled by the long years of study necessary to achieve that goal. More significantly, he was realizing that the time necessary to achieve that goal was time he would much rather spend furthering his martial education. More and more, he found himself entertaining thoughts of traveling to Japan, to immerse himself in its rich martial tradition. However, he felt the likelihood of someone as low on the ladder as he receiving such a plum assignment was slim, at best. As luck would have it, however, around the same time Suenaka was beginning to have second thoughts about pilot school, Air Force SAC Commander General Curtis LeMay happened to visit Mather, one of many stops on a tour of North American SAC bases. Suenaka was in one of the base’s flight simulator rooms, inspecting the equipment, when LeMay popped in for an unannounced, informal inspection.

At the time, LeMay, himself an experienced judoka, was actively promoting and encouraging martial arts study for Air Force personnel (the Air Force invitation extended to Tomiki Sensei, mentioned earlier, was the result of this program). He and Suenaka managed a moment or two of conversation, during which Suenaka mentioned LeMay’s infant program, his own aikido study, and how much we was hoping to be transferred to Japan to continue his education:

“He told me to go ahead and submit my transfer request to the CBPO (Central Base Personnel Office). So I said I would, and that was the end of the conversation. Not too long after that, around the end of 1959, I submitted my ‘dream sheet,’ my list of preferred assignments, to the CBPO, and almost immediately, I was told I was being transferred to Tachikawa Air Base, about thirty miles outside of Tokyo, in sixty days. I don’t know for certain if LeMay or his program had anything to do with it or not, but I was very happy.”

Immediately, Suenaka quit Sacramento College and headed back to Hawaii to spend a little vacation time with his family before heading overseas. Upon arriving home in February, however, he was stunned to discover O’Sensei himself was in Honolulu; incredibly, Suenaka had received no news of the Founder’s historic visit. Suenaka arrived the day after O’Sensei’s blessing of the newly-constructed Hawaii Aikikai. Although he was unable to attend, his family did; his father, mother, and brother Greg can be seen in many frames of a film, available on video, of the event.

While in Hawaii, O’Sensei was gracious enough to teach a few classes and give several lectures. Naturally, Suenaka took full advantage of the situation, attending as many classes and lectures as he could, as well as those conducted by Tohei Sensei who, having spent some seven years planting the seeds of aikido in America, had accompanied the Founder there to see the seeds bear their first fruit. Suenaka’s first glimpse of O’Sensei was at one of these lectures, during which the Founder demonstrated first-hand the heart of aikido, manifested in the spiritual power of ki. Suenaka vividly remembers the demonstration:

“O’Sensei stood there and put his hand, straight-armed, on this guy’s head, like he was blessing him, and then, boom!, the guy just crumbled, straight down to the ground. Then O’Sensei put his finger on the side of the guy’s head there on the mat, and the guy couldn’t move. Then he turned the guy over on his stomach and laid the back of his head on the middle of this guy’s back, like he was laying on a pillow. He told the guy to get up, and the guy couldn’t move! Now, I looked at that and I thought, ‘This is awesome!”’

On about the third day of his visit, a banquet was held in O’Sensei’s honor at the Rainbow Garden Teahouse, a local inn where he was staying during his time in Honolulu. Among the invited guests were those martial artists who found themselves drawn to this new art of aikido, Suenaka included. Following the feast, O’Sensei retired early, as was his habit. Not long after his departure, Suenaka decided to get a closer look at the mysterious, diminuitive master, unaware that just a few minutes later, he would unexpectedly have his first face-to-face meeting with the Founder.

After a few moments investigation, Suenaka identified O’Sensei’s bungalow and quietly crept closer, not wanting to betray his presence and risk angering Ueshiba. Finally, he got close enough to see inside:

“He was sitting in his room—the sliding shoji screen door was slightly open, as he really liked the natural surroundings, the breeze. . . . I was standing approximately fifty feet away, in the trees behind some bushes, just watching him, just to see what he was doing in there. He was sitting in seiza, reading a book.”

Suddenly, O’Sensei began to speak:

“I understood Japanese vaguely then. I couldn’t speak very much, but I could understand that he was saying something like, ’Hey you, out there!’ His back was turned toward me, and he said, ‘Why don’t you come in here, don’t stand out there.’ Of course, I looked around and didn’t see anyone else there but me, so I approached the door, and I said, ‘Boku?,’ which means ‘me’ in Japanese. And he said, ‘Yes, you!’ So I went in and sat down and faced him on the other side of the table.

“I was very intimidated. He didn’t even look at me. He continued to read, and I looked at him. I had never thought what I’d feel like (meeting O’Sensei). I guess I’d never expected to feel like a dumb fool, just sitting there—and I sat there for a good long period, ten or fifteen minutes. That’s when he wet his finger and reached back behind him, without looking, and brought out a little baby cockroach—he had caught him on his back and his little legs were waving in the air—and I looked at it and said, ‘Oh, yeah.’ And he put it down and let it run away. He never killed things, never even flies or mosquitos.”

The small incident with the insect may not seem like much, but it sent Suenaka’s mind reeling. How had O’Sensei known the little cockroach was there? Even more, how had he known Suenaka was there? Was O’Sensei sending Suenaka a subtle, even comical message? Not certain what to do, whether to stay or leave, speak or remain silent, Suenaka remained seated, watching the Founder as he read. To say he was nervous would be an understatement, and he wondered if the Founder was angry for being spied on. A few minutes later, O’Sensei again challenged Suenaka’s perception.

“After the cockroach incident, I just continued sitting there and watching him as he was reading. There might have been a breeze or something, I don’t know, but . . . I was watching the page just turn by itself, and I was thinking, ‘My God! Such power!’ I was really impressed! But I really don’t know if it was a breeze or not that did it. He didn’t touch the page at all . . . To this day, I don’t know.

“We didn’t converse at all. Only when he said,’ See, look at this,’ and I went ‘Uh hum.’ But after a while, he looked up at me and looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Okay, you can go now.’ Then he smiled, and I left.”

As may be expected, this first face-to-face meeting with O’Sensei had a profound effect on Suenaka, who in the days to follow observed O’Sensei even more intently than before. For his part, O’Sensei obviously remembered his unexpected evening visitor. Several days after their initial meeting, Suenaka paid another, more formal, visit to O’Sensei at his bungalow, this time as part of a group which included his father, brothers, and others. During the visit, O’Sensei made a point of asking Suenaka if he planned to attend yet another luau in his honor, an upcoming weekend affair organized by Dr. Wakatake, an aikidoka and respected local physician (who was later president of the Hawaii Aikikai), and held at his country home in Punaluu, on the other side of Oahu. Naturally, Suenaka answered yes.

The luau was a grand affair, featuring professional musicians, dancers, and other entertainers, as well as an seemingly endless supply of food. Rather than travel back and forth from home to the party, Suenaka and others stayed on Wakatake’s estate. One night, after O’Sensei had gone to bed, several of the older aikidoka dared Suenaka to slip into O’Sensei’s room and leave a note on his nightstand without being detected. The note itself contained a message to the effect of “Gotcha!,” meaning someone had managed to sneak up on the preternaturally perceptive Founder without his knowledge. As Suenaka stealthily entered the room, he saw O’Sensei had his back turned to the door and was facing the wall, apparently asleep. Carefully, he lay the note on the nightstand and hastily made his exit. “The next day, after he got up,” recalls Suenaka, “O’Sensei handed me the paper and said, ‘You forgot this on my nightstand last night.’ Everybody laughed and thought it was funny; I was just dumbfounded.”

The second day of the luau passed much as the first, with demonstrations and classes during the day, and Saturday night filled with food and entertainment. With festivities still in full swing, O’Sensei again decided to retire early, and called for his otomo (valet) to assist him. However, his otomo was nowhere to be found; it was soon discovered he had instead elected to enjoy the Honolulu nightlife. Suenaka recalls his first glimpse of O’Sensei’s formidable anger:

“He was enraged—he was yelling and carrying on and everybody was scared. Everybody just spread out, nobody wanted to be around him—they thought the world was going to explode! . . . [But] he got right over it. That’s the way I am now, and maybe it was something he ingrained in me. I told O’Sensei later I had learned that from him—he said, ‘Well, you maintain that frame of mind!”’

His otomo absent, O’Sensei changed his mind about retiring and instead decided to take a walk along the beach to enjoy the cool of the early evening. Even though O’Sensei didn’t even know the name of the young Hawaiian who had just recently unceremoniously invaded his privacy, to his delight, Suenaka was invited to join him:

“We walked across the street—the beach was right across the street from the country home. So we were walking along the beach on the sand, and I was on the outside, the road side, and O’Sensei was walking on the inside. We walked probably a half-mile or so down the beach. We were walking in silence—I couldn’t converse with him, because I didn’t speak very good Japanese then. So we walked, and it was enjoyable because just standing next to O’Sensei gave one the feeling of exhilaration. Just being next to him, the energy coming from him made my hair stand up! He was right beside me, brushing arms as we were walking, and that’s when I felt it, like a high-voltage transformer . . . that kind of energy. And that’s when I looked at him and thought to myself, ‘My God, such a little man—I bet I could really hit him and knock him out.”

What happened next shook Suenaka to his very core:

“As soon as I thought that, he stopped me and said, ‘Thinking thoughts like that is not good for you. You always have to think positively.’ Well, I just collapsed right there, my legs turned to rubber and I just fell down on my knees, right there on the beach. I thought he was going to kill me! I began to apologize, over and over, and he said something to the effect that, ‘One apology is enough—more apologies make you look more like a fool. . . . There’s no need to apologize more than one time for any mistake; therefore, make one mistake at a time.’ I thought that was a wonderful philosophy.

That was my first experience with enlightenment.

“So then I got back up [and] we contined to walk, and then we turned around and went back to the house. He thanked me and I thanked him. It was the most exciting experience of my life, to that point, the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me!”

Of course, the enlightenment of which Suenaka spoke is O’Sensei’s enlightenment; the experience of being in the presence of one who has attained that state of higher knowledge and perception to which all earnest budoka aspire. It was Suenaka’s first personal, incontrovertible proof that, in his words, “there was a force, a God-like force, that all humans could achieve that level of energy. I believed in his philosophy then—I said, ‘There’s no doubting such a thing.’”

Although Suenaka related his experience to his father and a few close friends, he generally kept it to himself. He knew there were those in the community who might resent the fact that he, still basically a kid at twenty-years-old, was granted a rare private moment with the Founder. In the weeks to come Suenaka would play the walk on the beach over and over in his mind, pondering the apparent impossibility of what he had experienced, yet finding his doubts time and again swept away by the undeniable reality of the event. Just as the arrival of Koichi Tohei in 1953 marked the end of the first stage of his martial development and the beginning of his aikido education, Suenaka Sensei’s experiences with O’Sensei, culminating in this extraordinary occurrence, marked the end of his days in Hawaii, and set the stage for the next steps in his martial development, which would begin less than a month later, upon his arrival in Japan.