Entertainer Shoji Tabuchi 12/12 | 100 Most Inspiring Asian Americans

Asian American Profiles

KING OF BRANSON

PAGE 12 OF 12

     "You know, it's a funny thing," he says with maybe a touch of impatience. "People forget the power of Branson. Last year we did 28 shows [outside Branson]. I sold out in every one of the theaters. I have a date in February [to do] six shows in Orange, Texas [in a] 2,500-seat auditorium. All six shows [are] already sold out."

     Performing is an ineluctable part of Tabuchi's life. "I don't think I can find anything else [that better] enables me to do what pleases me than this."

     One can't help wondering whether a Japanese -- after all these years, a Japanese American -- ever feels self-conscious performing to exclusively White audiences who have little Asian contact in their daily lives. To such queries Tabuchi's first line of defense is to say he has never experienced racial prejudice. When pressed, he speaks of the few times people have walked out on his show upon seeing that its star is Japanese, and the few hostile sentiments expressed on comment cards.

     "It's a very rare occasion when some people would say something like, 'My son was killed in [World War II]." Tabuchi doesn't like to dwell on the negative.

     "I have more better memories than bad memories," he adds quickly. "A World War II veteran who was in bad fighting with Japanese wrote to us, 'I kept this bad memory all these years and came here and something lifted [it off me]. Now I will go home and will promote your show, and I thank you for letting me do that.' I have a whole bunch of World War II veterans reunions here."

     Over the years several million American heartlanders have left the Shoji Tabuchi Theater with warmer feelings toward the Japanese and Asians than they harbored when they walked in. That's what matters to Tabuchi.

     "I can say I have a certain ambassador value," he says. Yet his role as goodwill ambassador has received no recognition on the Japanese side. "I don't think the Japanese government knows," he says, sounding a bit wistful and maybe a little puzzled. Tabuchi has received visits from the Japanese media but none has recognized his role in easing anti-Japanese sentiments in the section of America -- and among the generation of Americans -- that has the most reason to resent Japan.

     The lack of attention from the Japanese media is even more regrettable because knowledge of the success Tabuchi enjoys in the American heartland would make them more inclined to see the U.S. as a nation that offers acceptance and opportunity for all races. This thought strikes a responsive chord with Tabuchi.

     "My folks and friends worry how I am doing," he says. "All they hear is bad. Japanese shot in Florida while [looking for a] Halloween party or any time someone is mugged in New York. I definitely think I am a great ambassador because people tell me. [On a] one-to-one basis, people are nice. Music is universal, you know."

     Tabuchi seems mildly frustrated by, and resigned to, the disunion between his life and success in the U.S. and the perception of his family and friends in Japan.

     "We don't talk much." His voice is subdued. "That's kind of sad, we cannot see each other to do things together." No one else of his family lives in the U.S. "They actually don't know [how successful I am]. They've been here. Finally, they saw the theater. They've been here a week at a time, but you just can't tell [them]. They know I have many people come visit me but I don't think they know. [I'm not saying] I am a household name or anything, but [they don't know] how well known [I am], you know, [the] number of people [who have come to see me]. I don't think they have [any] idea." For the first time in the course of our interview Tabuchi sighs deeply and his face takes on a melancholy expression. "Even the Japanese people, my friends, they don't know. The other day my friend came to see me and he was just surprised how good I'm doing. He thought I have a small metal building with folding chairs," laughs Tabuchi sadly. "Some people had that idea."

     Maybe to cure this disconnect between past and present, Tabuchi wants to take his show to Japan.

CONTINUED BELOW

     "I'm trying to get there," says Tabuchi, revealing the depth of his feelings, "but nobody knows me. Japanese media start coming here, doing articles on me, but not even one concert date or anything was set. So that's my next goal -- to go back to Japan and take the entire cast and do the things that we do." Of course any tour of Japan would have to be during the first three months of the year when the Shoji Tabuchi Theater is closed.

     For the third time since we resumed our interview after the matinee, the dressing room phone rings. As with the first two calls, Tabuchi makes no move to answer. I suggest this call may be from Dorothy. It is approaching starting time for the 8 p.m. show. Unfailingly polite, Tabuchi excuses himself and picks up the receiver. It is Dorothy. Tabuchi speaks with her briefly, then excuses himself to take the call in the next room.

     After several minutes he returns and confides that the call was to remind him of the recording session following the evening show. It is for a new, as-yet untitled, album that will be sold in the theater's concession along with his seven others. One imagines Tabuchi's albums add nicely to Shoji Entertainment's bottom line, especially since, by Tabuchi's estimates, several would have gone gold had they been released on a major record label.

     "That would be nice," says Tabuchi to the idea of being signed by a major label, "but I do pretty good as it is."

     Most would agree that he is doing very very well as the male half of what may well be the world's most profitable momand pop entertainment shop, one Americans will be seeing much more of in coming years. [END]

PAGE 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12