On arrival in San Francisco, Hirohachi mentions that three “foreigners” went ashore and the troupe stayed on board. Throughout his diary, he never mentions Risley by name, instead occasionally alluding to him with the now archaic word, ijin, or “foreigner.”19 Most of his interactions were probably with the interpreter Banks, who was a former U.S. Marshal in Yokohama and himself an investor in the troupe. Banks is an intriguing character about whom little is known, but in those days there were almost no Europeans capable of speaking Japanese, let alone interpreting, so he possessed a rare talent. In Hirohachi’s diary Banks is referred to as henkutsu, and it was only after many years that Japanese researchers established his identity. The third person in the group to which Hirohachi refers was William F. Schiedt, who is listed under “Passengers” in the January 1 edition of the Alta, along with Risley, Banks, and “eighteen Japanese jugglers.” Like Banks, he was an investor in the group, and in charge of managing the finances, and he too may have known some Japanese and acted as an interpreter. We know from his 1867 U.S. passport application that he was remarkably young, only twenty-eight, and that he was 5’8” tall, with a high forehead, blue eyes, prominent nose, round chin, light brown hair, fair complexion, long oval face, and tattoos on both arms and chest, including one of the “American Shield.” There may also have been a fourth “foreigner” with the group, for a quarter of a century later one troupe member would recall that a Chinese lad named “Lee” served as Risley’s personal interpreter and helper. He reportedly spoke wretched Japanese, and his name never appears in Hirohachi’s diaries or any surviving reports of the time.20
Risley had some serious negotiations to do in San Francisco before his Imperial Troupe and all their accompanying stage paraphernalia could be properly landed. They had arrived nearly a month later than planned, and while at sea there had been no way to communicate with San Francisco. There was first and foremost the basic logistical problem of where to lodge the troupe, and where and how to put on the long-delayed show that had already been advertised in the local papers since November. And it was surely a crushing blow to learn that a competing troupe had already stolen much of their planned thunder. Making matters more complicated for Risley was the fact that he had been out of the country for nearly ten years.
From recent research, we now know that the first troupe of Japanese that arrived in the United States was comprised of the Tetsuwari family of performers. Risley’s “Imperials,” on the other hand, was an amalgam of eighteen members from primarily three performing families—the Hamaikari, Sumidagawa, and Matsui families of jugglers and acrobats—presumably selected by Hirohachi and Banks for Risley. For reasons impossible to say today, the Imperials were often advertised and described as having twenty members, instead of eighteen. Although only Risley’s group would make it, both companies were headed for the Exposition Universelle, which was held by Emperor Napoleon III in Paris in 1867. One of the first true world fairs, this exposition attracted great attention from entertainers around the globe, and entrepreneurial foreigners in Yokohama saw it as the perfect opportunity to exploit curiosity in Japan, showcase the unique talents of Japanese performing artists, and make a galomping fortune. At least five Japanese troupes left Japan around this time, some traveling west and some—like the Imperials and the Tetsuwari faction—traveling east. Some made it to Europe but not the Exposition, and some stayed in the United States, but it meant that nearly everywhere the Imperials went, they faced competition from fellow countrymen.
The departure of Risley’s Imperials from Yokohama had been delayed for many reasons. First, the members were all lucky to leave with their lives, because Yokohama had erupted in flames on November 26 and most of the settlement, including the American consulate, had been destroyed. Second, their departure was also delayed because Risley went to the trouble of applying for passports from the Japanese government while the other groups apparently did not bother. The Japanese government was still a feudal one—soon to collapse in a semirevolution and be replaced by a modern system—so in 1866 considerable bureaucratic confusion was the norm. One result of Risley’s efforts, however, was that Sumidagawa Namigorō, a prominent troupe member in the Imperials, received the first passport ever issued by the Japanese government to an ordinary citizen.21
Risley wasted no time on arrival in generating publicity and in setting up performances. On January 1 and 2, he arranged mentions in the Alta proclaiming the superiority of his troupe “over all other of their profession, either in or outside the Empire of the Tycoon.”22 And in multiple local papers he also arranged for detailed, official announcements of upcoming performances, which hinted at some of the reasons for his delay:
Months after the contract was made with these artists to proceed to foreign countries on a professional trip, the Japanese Government finally issued the passports and necessary permits for them to depart from their native country, when it was made known to the Government that Mr. Edward Banks, late U.S. Marshal at Kanagawa, Japan, after his resignation of office, after his sojourn of seven years in the country, was to accompany the artists on their professional trip, to secure their safe return to their native country, the difficulties and obstacles were all the greater, as the applications demanded passports for female artists to depart from Japan, which was entirely new to the Japanese government.23
The local correspondent for the New York Times later elaborated on Risley’s situation. After describing how the newspapers had all advertised Risley’s coming and how a ship with different Japanese performers had actually arrived in San Francisco earlier in December, he wrote:
But behold! Another vessel came in a few days since, bringing the original Jacobs, and we discovered that we had been sold. Some smart Yankee, taking advantage of the idea originated by RISLEY, had gathered a company together, slipped off in advance, and had had a “run” and the advantage of all RISLEY’S prestige and advertising. Discovering this, RISLEY determined to open for three nights only . . .24
Up against a professional like Risley, the other troupe—the Tetsuwari family—never really had a chance, even if equally skilled. With his competitors out of town, in Sacramento, Risley quickly made arrangements with Maguire for his group to appear at the Academy of Music on January 7. As another paper put it, “’Tis whispered in the house, and muttered on the street, that they are wonderful fellows; that it is a good thing for the other company that Smith took them to Sacramento. Had they seen Risley’s performers in some of their feats, they certainly would have committed, out of pure envy, the hari karii, on the spot.”25
The Imperials left their ship on January 1, after Risley had procured lodging for them. And Risley knew how to show his troupe off, for according to Hirohachi they traveled through crowds of spectators to their hotel in five horse-drawn carriages decorated with gold and silver inlay, “a sight that even a daimyō in Japan would have a hard time matching.”26 Hirohachi’s simple words, referring to a Japanese feudal lord, hid the scale of his true sentiments as a commoner in Japan’s feudal system, for back home he could have had his head lopped off for the slightest offense by nearly any member of the samurai class.
For the Japanese performers, who had never set foot abroad or been surrounded by different races of people, San Francisco was a dizzying experience. They normally ate fish but never the meat of four-legged animals. They had rarely seen wheeled vehicles or even large mirrors or so many houses with glass windows. Nor had they any familiarity with the modern scientific advances of mid-nineteenth-century America or Europe. During their stay in San Francisco, when not resting, checking their equipment, or performing or rehearsing, they would see much of the city. They would ride in carriages through the sand dunes of western San Francisco to Cliff House and Seal Rock, and marvel at California sea lions. They would visit the United States Mint in San Francisco (where Bret Harte then worked) and see huge piles of gold coins being minted. They would visit the Olympic Club and observe American gymnasts at work. They were enchanted with photographs and would have theirs taken at the studio of the pioneering portraitists, Bradley & Rulofson, to use as promotional calling cards known as cartes de visite (those by Bradley & Rulofson are lost, but others, and from other cities, survive). They would marvel at cobblestone roads and buildings as tall as five and seven stories high and be astounded at the sight of a steam train. In their hotel, they were amazed by faucets and drains, and even more so by gas lights in the room. They were sternly warned to be careful with the latter, since gas-related