And there was another woman who's now Mrs. Matsumoto, she's about 90 years old and still alive in San Francisco, who either went with him from here or had already gone to San Francisco and was associated with him in San Francisco. I think now out on the farm. And of course Goto Roshi, there were 10 or 12 of them all together. But after they'd been there two years, Eicho-san became pregnant. I'm telling you all the dirt, or all of the way this story really is. And so to have the child born in Japan, Eicho-san and Sokatsu had to come back to Japan. And then she stayed here and he came back to

[01:06]

San Francisco and stayed another 18 months, I think, and then decided that this wasn't the time to propagate Zen, it was too early in America. So he came back and that was all of except Soke-an and his wife and Mrs. Matsumura, her name is. And she has always lived in San Francisco and still does with her family. Who did Mrs. Matsumura go as one of the students? I'm not sure whether she went as one of the students or whether she had already been a student and gone to America and was in San Francisco. But she was part of that general group. She didn't live on the farm, I know that. They all went out to the farm for a time and they bought this farm out at, oh, some town which is now Hayward. That's right, they bought the farm at Hayward with the idea of raising strawberries.

[02:06]

Well, after that, to finish up the story about Sokatsu's children, the child was a girl and there was a second child, a girl also. And the two children were acknowledged as only as Echokusan's nieces and they were very promptly sent to somewhere to be taken care of. And as far as I know, there was nothing, they were brought up entirely apart from their father and mother. And how much contact there was, I don't know. I do know that both of them made excellent marriages due to whatever contacts there were that could be, strings that could be pulled. But I had a very, very interesting experience once with one of these daughters.

[03:11]

And to me, it's the crux of the whole story. I wouldn't bother to tell you this, really. I mean, tell you the previous if it weren't for this. It was after Echokusan had died. She died after Sokatsu did about a year and a half, after she had died. And I was up at Daishuin one day. And I had heard about Echokusan's death. And I had heard something about this, one of these daughters who was married and married. In fact, both of them married very well. And one of them lived in Kobe. And we had been talking about her with Goto Roshi and Okamoto-san. Then I started out. And just as I got to the outside gate of Daishuin, a very fine-looking woman, about 46 or 47,

[04:20]

came in. She was handsomely dressed, very quietly dressed, but very handsomely dressed. And she was a very fine, strong, capable-looking woman. And Okamoto-san, who was with us, then introduced me and said, oh, and she said, this is Mrs. So-and-so and Echokusan's niece. And I said, oh, I'm very pleased to meet Echokusan's niece. She drew herself up to her full height. And it was, she's not tall, but I mean, it was still quite a drawing up. And she said, Echokusan's daughter. So that one remark is pregnant with 48 years. That's all you had to hear to see this woman

[05:38]

introduce that this is Mrs. So-and-so, Echokusan's niece. And then I said, oh, I'm delighted to, very pleased to meet Echokusan's niece in this way that she drew herself up. And she said, Echokusan's daughter. There's a lot in that. Oh, I mean, that's a whole, how shall I say, concentration of Japanese cultural pattern and its psychological results. It's a wonderful story. Well, where should I go back? Well, what about, I'd like to hear a little bit about Sokatsu as a teacher and just, if you know what you know of that as a teacher and his teaching career. Well, I think that everybody thought that he was extremely brilliant, and he ran a kind of

[06:43]

a layman's zendo at these two or three dojos that he had. And of course, the first thing that he did was to break with Goto Roshi. Goto Roshi wasn't Goto Roshi then, but when he finished his Zen study, they came back from America and he finished his Zen study. Then Goto Roshi had, in the meanwhile, decided to become a monk again. And he had belonged originally to Miyoshinji, so he decided to pick that up again and follow a monk's life. And Sokatsu immediately disowned him. Because disciples were all non-monks. He wanted non-monks. Theoretically. He wanted... So Kiyon wasn't a monk then either. No, no. He wanted only lay people. Now, around about that time, after Goto Roshi left,

[07:45]

he had another man whose name was Ohasama Chikado as his disciple. That man was a professor of ethics at some university in Tokyo. And he was a man who had come from a very humble or poor beginning, but had been adopted by some very wealthy man in Tokyo, and eventually married that man's daughter, became the Yoshi in that household. And what he had to do was to be a fine professor. That was the man who wanted a professor for a Yoshi. And he was sent to Heidelberg, as you know, and he studied German, and he wrote that little book on Zenderlebendige Buddhismus. That was that man. And they were... they had a great deal of money to assist in all of Sokatsu's work.

[08:47]

So Sokatsu was very, very fond of this, of Ohasama. And later, Ohasama died. He died actually a year to the day after Sokyan died, and died of the same trouble. But in the meantime, he had already been made a Roshi, and Sokatsu was more or less off Eizan, and the white-haired boy was Ohasama Chikado. He... they all, I mean, everybody that ever... that I ever knew who studied with Sokatsu felt that he was an absolutely great teacher. And I have no doubt of it at all myself, because, as you know, I saw him three or four times after the war,

[09:52]

when I came back. Did you know that? Yes, you told me about it once. You went out there to visit him once. It's... Well, that's right. The first time, well, going back, Sokyan decided that to propagate Zen in America, it would be much easier if he were a monk, if he... yes, if he were a priest, than as layman, because while a lay Roshi had some standing in Japan, because of people's... because of past custom, that he had no standing in America, if he wasn't... or at least it was difficult to have a standing, have people understand what he... what his position was. So he became... When Sokyan decided that he wanted to become a monk or a priest in the school

[10:57]

or in the line of Daito-kichi, he wrote Sokatsu and told him about it, and he ordered him to come back immediately to Japan. And he told him that he was not fit to be... First, it was... he wasn't fit to be a priest, and he wasn't really fit to be a Roshi, because he didn't... never studied flower arrangement, he couldn't play Go, his calligraphy was bad, he had five things that every Zen... didn't know tea ceremony, he had five things that an accomplished Japanese Roshi should have, and Sokyan didn't have any of those five. And when Sokyan refused to go back, he disowned him. This was before or after Sokyan had finished his training? After he'd finished.

[11:58]

Oh, I thought... Oh, yes, after he'd finished. He told him he wasn't fit to be a Roshi after he'd finished. That's right, he said... he said that if... that he took back his Inka, and he was to come back and do this extra training, and Sokyan refused, and so then he disowned him. He disowned Goto Roshi, too. Then, among... he kept up his interest in the arts, always. He... not his carving, not his lacquerwork, but he kept up his interest in painting, calligraphy, and in antique collecting, and spent a great deal of money in that way. When the war came on, shortly before the war, he had his 70th birthday.

[13:06]

And at the place in Ichikawa, the dojo in Ichikawa, they had a huge birthday party for him, and at this he announced that he had had... that he had given 5,000 different people Sanzen in the course of his teaching life. He was then retiring, he said, and that nine of them had been... he had made... that nine of them had completed their Zen study, and four of them he had made Roshis. That was the story of his work. Then he... after that, he went down to Hyogo-ken to live with a small... with a little man who was a drug... one of his students who was a druggist, but who gave home to himself in Echokusa, and he left Eizan in charge of the place at Ichikawa. But as soon as the war was over, for some reason or other,

[14:12]

he announced that he had arbitrarily and alone had dissolved Ryomokai, and that Eizan was no longer in charge of it, and he was... was... what did I say? He was disowned. Disowned too. Yeah. And at that... shortly after that time, well, since I've been here, he wrote to Goto Roshi and renewed his association with Goto Roshi and said in the letter, you are the only heir I have. Eizan Roshi is one of the finest men I know, and the day that he told me about this,

[15:13]

I will never forget. And he ended up with his face really distorted with pain, really distorted, and he said, this... why? I said, why, Roshi? And he said, why? That is the koan my teacher left me with. But what happened was, as a matter of fact, that he had so many friends and so many personal students already in Ryomoan, that Sokatsu had no more dissolved Ryomoan than he had... than they formed a new society, this... what do they call it? Ningen Zen Kyokai, and put him in charge of it, and he told me that about, I think, 60 percent of the former members

[16:16]

of the dispersed Ryomokai had come... had come back. And, of course, he now has a very fine position. I mean, he's very assured. He's built more, a couple of more buildings there. His students have built them for him and provide him for him. And have you ever been out to... Well, that's a place you must go, and because... So is Eizan Roshi there now? Oh, yes, he's there now. So he actually went back to it? Well, he never really left it, never really left it. And it's still in the same site as the one that Sokatsu started? That's right. Now, the Ryomoan, or the Ryomo Kyokai, he dissolved, and that just didn't exist anymore. But the buildings all stayed there. And Eizan stayed there, and the majority of the members continued to stay there. In the meanwhile...

[17:17]

Where is that? It's at Ichikawa. It's about an hour out from Tokyo on one of the... I should go see that. Oh, you really must, and you must see Eizan, because he has... Eizan Tatsudo. Yeah, well, I had a very nice impression of him at one time. The Nichibei... No, not Nichibei. The Ningen Zen Kyokai at Ichikawa-Shiba. You take a train, an electric train out to Ichikawa, about an hour out from the city, and you can get a bus to almost the door, and then you have to go across a couple of fields and back into the woods where the place is built. And I took Anthony Tudor out there this last summer, and he was just delighted with Eizan, and Eizan was delighted with him. And it happened

[18:19]

to be a Saturday, and every weekend he has groups of laypeople, laymen, come from town, and they, if they can, they come Saturday morning or any time during Saturday, and they do lots of Samu, and then they have two or three sittings the afternoon and evening, and he gives a lecture to them, and the same thing on Sunday. It's a kind of a short session, and then other times they have longer sessions, but every week, as I remember it, they have this arrangement. Now, Sokatsu stayed in Hyogo with this little apothecary, is what he really was, who was his disciple, and Eichoku-san also, in all of his belongings, because then he had belongings, all of these antiques and things like that that he collected. He had an enormous amount.

[19:24]

And after the war was over, and the big airplane site up north of Tokyo, about 60 miles, I can't remember the name of it right now, I'd have to look in my address book, it was returned, I mean, returned to the Japanese people, taken out of the hands of the army. A number of, the land was sold to peasants and so forth, and it's great land for growing sweet potatoes up there, and there were a number of new villages that were built, and they sprang up like little wild west towns, all made out of just slabs of wood thrown together, and muddy streets, and so forth. At any rate, the apothecary decided that that would be a good place to go. So, he moved up from Hyogo Prefecture, down the other side of Kobe, and he built a little drug store,

[20:29]

and, or a drug shop, and behind it a place for himself, I don't know whether he had children or not, and then he built three rooms for Sokatsu, Anto, and Sokatsu, and all of his possessions, and Eicho-san moved up there, and Sokatsu was no longer teaching, and it was there that I saw him on three occasions, and the first occasion I went, I went with some gifts and things, and he refused to see me, because I was connected with Soke-yan, who he had disowned. So, I was sent away. Well, it was practically what I was expecting, but, and I had gone up with a Japanese layman from Engaku-ji, and it was about, as I say, what I was expecting to have happen, but it did happen

[21:33]

that way. But the next time I went, I took Walter up with me, and this time we were allowed to see him, he saw us. The first time we had seen Eicho-san, she came and had excused it, and said, Roshi, this and that, and she was a darling, just a darling little woman, and the second time we were shown in, and I will never to my dying day forget the old man. He sat in this room, a small room, built out of the cheapest kind of lumber. Of course, it had tokonoma, and all the rest of it. He sat on a fine brocaded cushion, and he had on all of his robes and his kesa, raksa, and he sat as straight as is possible for anybody to sit. He was then close to 80,

[22:35]

maybe a little over 80, and the room that we had come in through, which was the room before his room, was packed to the ceiling with these boxes of all kinds of things, you know, and antiques, I suppose, and things like that. We came into his room, and there was barely room for him to sit, and us to kneel, and Eicho-san to get in the door like this. Everything was piled up to the ceiling with buddhas, and lacquer boxes, and statues of different kinds, and rolled up paintings. It was just like a, just like a kotoya's place, you know, and in the midst of that sat this old man, and the only thing I could think of was an old lion whose teeth had fallen out, and who had no more, no more claws, but there he was. He was king of the forest, and no mistake, he's the greatest

[23:46]

Roshi I have ever seen, the greatest Roshi I have ever seen at 80, 81. Well, when he and I clicked like that, instantly, and Walter was there, and Walter bowed very sweetly, and I introduced him as to Sokatsu as your grandson, and he accepted that very sweetly and proudly, and then he rang his bell for little old Eicho-san. She came in like this, you know. Oh yes, just exactly, and she went out, and everything was done as if this were a great temple. There was this great man sitting in it. He still was a great man. How come he didn't go into retirement up at Chiba, and just go to a little house off to the side? Well, I think, I really don't know. This man, this

[24:54]

apothecary, I'll tell you some more about him, because you're not through with that story, and in, it was a warm day, and the windows in Shoji were open, and across the street, I may have told you this before, but it's part of the picture, across the street is a, from where he built this little shop, was a processing plant for making alcohol out of sweet potatoes, and the first raw alcohol, and the wind was coming like this, and into the room, and if you've ever smelled sweet potatoes in the process of being, of being decomposed and made into alcohol on a hot day, and here the old lion sat. Oh, that's a, that's a beautiful story. Well, it's more beautiful still in the end,

[26:02]

because I went up to see him again, and it was cold winter when I went up, and the place, the town was exactly like an Alaska mining town, or something like that, still streets, nothing but mud, and these little shacks all along the road, and the wind blowing off that plane, and at the snow in it, and oh, it was just bitter up there, and dust flying, and awful, and I spent the afternoon with him in a choksan, and started home, and I had to take a certain train, and then, and from their house to the railroad station, and it was just a little hick station, was about, oh, maybe half a mile, and so when I got ready to go,

[27:07]

Roshi said he was going with me to the railroad station. I had somebody with me, I've forgotten who, some man with me, as an interpreter, and but was it Konseki, or somebody, I don't remember now who it was, anyway, and we said, oh, you can't go, because, I mean, by this time, he was past 80, he died 84, so he must have been about 81 at this time, and we said, you can't go, it's too cold, and look at all the dust flying, and it's about four o'clock in the afternoon, you can't go out in the daylight, because, oh, yes, he was going out, he was going to see me to the train, so H. Oksan brought his great big coat, covered his korma, and for a cap, he had an old discarded army's aviators fur cap with flaps, made out of squirrel, old moth-eaten squirrel, or what have you, you know, and that he put on his old head, and then he picked up his big staff, and we started

[28:15]

down the road, and the wind blowing, and the dirt flying in our face, and all that, and we got to the railroad station about five minutes before the train came in, and so we said goodbye many times, and all that, and then the train came, it was a single road track place, and we had to go across to get on the train here, and there was a picket fence along here to keep the populace from dogs, and cats, and cows, and things from getting on the railroad track, and when our train drew out on this single track line for Tokyo, there was the old man standing all alone by himself, tears just streaming down his face, in this old, old squirrel cap, you know, aviators cap, and waving like this, and the tears just running down his face. That's the last time I ever saw him.

[29:20]

What year did he die? He died, well, I've got his death date in Zen Dust, but I've forgotten exactly. It was, he was a great man, full of passions, and the other cute story, Ei-chok-san was a fine koto player, and he encouraged her to study koto, and he was very proud of her koto playing, and every so often, she would give, or her teacher would give, a koto recital, and she would play at the recital, and he never missed a recital, sat right up in the front row, but he had one of these scarves over his head, and down over his face, so that his face could never be seen. I wanted to meet him the second time I came over here,

[30:34]

sat right up in the front row, but he had one of these scarves over his head, and down over his face, so that his face could never be seen. I wanted to meet him the second time I came over here. I had heard about him, not from Soke-yan, but I had heard about him from old Mr. Goddard, who had managed to go to see me. You know, Goddard, the Buddhist Bible man. Right, Goddard. Yeah, that's right, and, but the Suzuki's wouldn't allow me to go, such a dissolute. Well, he really was considered, this really was held against him, then. Oh, very much so, by, well, by people like the Suzuki's. Well, I shouldn't... I don't know about, there couldn't have been too much by his disciples. For instance, of one of his pupils was Prince Chichibu,

[31:37]

who came out there incognito, and when he came through Chicago years after, not Chicago, New York, years afterwards, Soke-yan was invited to have a private visit with him, because he had sat in the zendo at, well, Soke-yan was much the same way, you know, Soke-yan was a very bad boy, and he, I mean, he was an awful drinker. Sokatsu never drank, never drank at all, and his devotion to Omizu Kudasai, Pitcher Kudasai, nobody ever questioned for one instant that he was ever unfaithful in thought, word, or deed to Eicho-san. He was completely devoted to her, but the Suzuki's, particularly Mrs. Suzuki, was very, very against this rather,

[32:47]

what, naturalistic morals of the Japanese. It's funny, though, because you think that the Suzuki's with an American background would have been more tolerant than the Japanese, but I guess at that time... Oh, no, she belonged to the Episcopal Church. At that time, American morality was different than Episcopal. Oh, oh, oh, my, yes, and I can tell you a very amusing story about that. She, of course, married Mr. Suzuki, and he was a student of Soke-yan, and he, they had a little house inside of N. Gakuchi compound and so forth, but she never liked Soke-yan, because he drank too much, and he played with geishas, and he made no bones about it, and they tell the story about how he, one night in Kamakura, he was at a geisha house, and on the second floor, and he took off all of his clothes, and it's summer night, and he had all the shoji open, and the lights on in the room, and he danced around

[33:54]

in this geisha house, the second floor, with all the shoji wide open, populace watching, danced around stark naked, with the idea of what, showing freedom, I suppose, freedom of action, I wouldn't know. Well, anyway, Mrs. Suzuki was violently antagonistic to him, and she would not, she took sanzen from him for a very, very short time, and then had, couldn't endure it, and had to give it up. This she told me herself. And he was followed as the roshi at N. Gakuchi by a man who was extremely ascetic, tall, thin, and rather, oh, there was nothing could be said against him morally in any way, shape, or manner. And she thought, as she told me, showed me his picture, and she said, you see, he's so spiritual, and he was the kind of teacher I

[34:57]

wanted, somebody who was spiritual, not like Soya. And later, I told Sokian about that one day, and he said, oh, spiritual, how could he be anything else? He said, when he was a kid, he got kicked in the balls by a horse. Well, what was the attitude of the rest of the Zen world actually towards Sokatsu as a teacher, and toward that whole line that Sokatsu sort of following Soyan established? Temple Zen is still against them. Still against? Still against them. And they felt that, though he might be a good teacher, that people were not taught the things that they learn in Sodo life,

[36:04]

the living together, the give and take, the manners, all the things that go to make up Sodo life. And that no really good Zen man, I mean, no Zen man can be a teacher, a Roshi, who doesn't have Sodo experience. That's their view. And they have it today. I mean, for instance, if Walter were to try to get a temple here, for instance, in Daito-ji, he'd have violent opposition, because they consider that Goto Roshi's handling of Walter, I mean, I've heard this from a number of different priests, that his handling was completely wrong, that he's only developed half of his Zen training, that even if Walter has Inka, that the training he has had

[37:10]

is insufficient for it, though he may have gotten it through Koan study or that, that there are other things that are necessary to make a full Roshi. And that's one thing that they object to about Oda Roshi, because he was only three years in Miyoshinji Sodo, and the rest of his time he's been, he was with Goto Roshi, and there is a feeling that Goto Roshi himself had no Sodo life, you see, because while he lived it at this dojo for 10 years and went to the university and then in Tokyo and in Ichikawa, nevertheless, he never had any real Sodo training, and that's why when, after the war, when he became, he was invited to come here, there was no Roshi. Goto Roshi could not be Roshi at the Sodo, and he appointed Oda Roshi as his deputy,

[38:18]

because he'd had the three years, and they accepted that deputy, and that has always been one problem here, because Goto Roshi considered himself actually the Roshi, but because of his lack of background, early background, he could not be accepted as a Sodo Roshi. So, and I know that Muro Roshi, as a real temple man, has made many nasty cracks to me about Sokei-han, because he's not a very polite man anyway, but he's made many nasty cracks. So, I think that, I don't think that any, I don't think it's only theirs, but I don't think that any ley line has the respect of temple men. Now, I don't say that the temple men are any more worthy

[39:24]

of respect. That's another question, but I hear it from, I speak about it often with Fukutomi-san, because he's really a very, well, he's a man who knows his way around. He's a very fair, he's a very honest, he's a very outspoken person, and his antipathy to these these ley Roshis and their lines is, they're a joke for him, including Uro Roshi. Well, I didn't know Uro Roshi felt that way. He expressed that feeling a little bit around me. Yeah, and so, I think they seem to take it that the ley Roshis and their students are kind of

[40:30]

playing it's in. On the other hand, Soke-an has said any number of times that the very best students that any Roshi, ley Roshi, or any temple Roshi had, the best students, nine cases out of ten were laymen. Yeah, like what Soke-an must have said, a number of things, one time or another, in defense of his way of doing things. Oh, he was devoted to Sokatsu as a teacher, and he is responsible for saying, but, you know, we have, we boys, we Japanese Zen students have a word. God helped me to get what the Roshi has, but God helped me also to keep from being like him.

[41:33]

That was one of his stories, and his allegiance to Sokatsu as a teacher was unfailing, I think, to the end, but to Sokatsu again as a man, because he loved Echokusan very much, Soke-an did, and he was very, very fond of her, and I think, and he was very, very fond of Eizan, and I think he felt that both Eizan and Echokusan were, aside from their Zen, the Zen side, that Sokatsu as a man had treated both of them very miserably, and but I don't know. I think we come, we foreigners, come with too many illusions or too many dreams of

[42:44]

what we imagine Zen masters to be, and all that sort of thing, and on the other hand, I don't think people over here demand enough of such people, so I think there's a big gap in there. I take Arnon Shinken. I mean, he certainly, there's a cute, gaseous story about him, which is the balance to the one about Soen. On one of his visits over to my house along the river, one hot summer night, Johnny, who was my secretary, and old Nan Shinken and I walked across the bridge and walking around through Shimogamo Jinja there, and there are several, I suppose there still are, there were then several restaurants there, and there again, as we were walking through, one of them was all lit up, and on the second

[43:49]

floor, it was summer, and the shoji were all open, and you could see the geisha serving. They were standing up and walking around and so forth, and the old man stood there and looked up and said, I wonder what a geisha party's like. I've never been at one. That was Nan Shinken. And quite the opposite. As I say, I never heard anybody raise the grain of dust against him, as he was tight with his money. He had the great misfortune to die with some 30,000 yen, old yen, in the bank. Nan Shinken. Yeah. And that was scurrilous for Roshi to die with 30,000 yen in the bank. A lot of money in those days. It was a lot of money

[44:49]

in those days, $15,000 in those days. And of course, he seems to have died without a will, and they had to divide it all among the various temples and so forth. He didn't believe in priests marrying at all, and he wouldn't let any married priest in to have a temple. And he had to get a priest for this little temple where I lived, because he couldn't be priest of it when he retired. And he had a disciple, not an heir, a disciple who lived down in Shikoku, whom he asked to come up and take over that temple. Now, that man was, and never had any idea of being a priest inside of Nanzenji. He had a wife and three daughters. And Nan Shinken insisted that that man come alone, and it was only after Nan Shinken's death that the man could bring his wife and three daughters up there. That was, we all felt it was awfully mean, even when I was here, we talked

[45:56]

about it, it was too, so awfully mean. The man has died since then, he died two years ago. He was an awful sweet man, awfully nice man. And we all felt very, that Nan Shinken was very miserable to him, because he did have the wife and the three daughters, and he'd never expected to come up here, but at Nan Shinken's call, he'd come, and he, but he never let him bring no wife and daughters, they never got in, as I say, until after Nan Shinken had died. And, of course, Nan Shinken, I think I forgot to say this the other night about him, he was a great builder, you know, also. He built that present Buddha Hall, or the, where they have the, where they have the services, that great big hall in Nanzen-ji. Oh, yes, that was burned down. He was called from Kokei to come and superintend the building of that. And he rebuilt all the Zen Dome at Nanzen-ji, also.

[47:01]

And he was very fond of building, of course, he built this Senkouen, which was a tiny temple, but it was very beautifully built, beautiful wood in it, and it was beautifully built. And he loved to build. He was a very capable organizer, and he was a very penurious, tight man, careful, and he was meticulous about temple discipline, Soto discipline, and about Soto morals as women, or about, as I told you about Sake, I never saw any Sake there. And I, one of the first year ceremony that I went to for his death was held over in, it wouldn't be the year, because that was, I wasn't here, but after the war, the first one that I went to after the war was held at Senkouen, this old temple. And the Sake was flowing like water, and it was, to me, it was perfectly shocking,

[48:10]

because it was in this room where I had lived, and in front of this altar that Nan Shinken had helped, had shown me how to keep, and how to keep dusted, and so forth. And I'm sure I've told you this story about him, which I think is one of the cutest ones. He loved, he loved tomato sandwiches. Ricardo-san used to make sandwiches with sliced tomato in between, you know, and he just loved them. So, one day we were cleaning this altar, and he said, now, when I die, my Ihai will go here, and when you die, he said, your Ihai will go here. Now, he said, if I die first, I will put cake and tea in front of your Ihai. But he said, if I die first, you put coffee and tomato sandwiches in front of mine.

[49:16]

That's a nice story. And I'm sure that the Koan, the way that he taught Koans was the way he'd been taught. It was exact and precise, and I don't think he had, he was the least bit worried about any philosophic background. I don't think he was at all interested in propagating the Dharma beyond among his monks, bringing them up. He was like a father with a big, or the school teacher with a big school of boys, and he was, that was, he had a job, and he wanted to do the best he could to raise the best lot of monks that he could. And, of course, you must remember that when I came over here,

[50:22]

there were three or four people that had come before to kind of play a bit around with Zen, but nobody thought about Zen going to the West, you see. Dr. Suzuki's first book of essays only had been published, nothing more. Of course, other essays had already come out, or were coming out, in the Eastern Buddhist of those days, but Zen was practically unknown. It was a doctor, or that man with a bow, what's his name? Herigel. Herigel was after me, you see, and a doctor, Dr. O. Goddard had come earlier and was contemporary with me, but he had gotten very disgusted with the ceremony here and decided that it was Chinese Buddhism, Chinese Zen, that he really was interested in. So, though he visited with Dr. Suzuki and visited, paid calls on people

[51:29]

here, and tried, stayed here for, to get hold of manuscripts from Dr. Suzuki and so on, on the other hand, he was not interested and didn't go any distance in it. And there was one woman stayed at Sokoku-ji for a little while, and then there was a woman who went to this Empuku-ji in the country, which I'll tell you about another time, because I can tell you a long story about that. And, but those people, nobody thought in those days, really, in terms of getting Zen, any more than finding out what it was about through themselves, you know. There was no idea that it might be, have a broader, well, I know a broader meaning. I know that, of course, I had been studying Buddhism for years, but, when I came, but I wrote down someplace my purpose

[52:34]

in studying, and it was not, certainly not to get satori. It didn't, that emphasis never occurred at that period. My purpose, as I remember writing it down, was simply to see by practicing according to the exact method that I was taught, as it was practiced in a soto, whether this method would produce any results for a foreigner or not. That's all. To have thought in terms of getting satori for yourself, I mean, it never occurred to me. I mean, this was some step on the way to Buddhist understanding, but more than that, I mean, as I say, we were too new at it altogether, too few at that time.

[53:38]

And I don't think the teachers thought. Sokatsu had at one period, but, of course, that was long before, and the majority of his students in San Francisco, aside from the from the Japanese who studied with him, a few Japanese in San Francisco living there, the others were all missionary ladies who were coming over to Japan to do mission work. And there is someplace, I suppose, I have it perhaps in the, in the, one of the files boxes with photographs and things belonging to Sokatsu in the Kura, a picture of Sokatsu, who was one of the handsomest men that you ever laid eyes on in his young days, but he was in his old age too, sitting in his clerical costume, which was a long coat like this and buttoned up the top,

[54:40]

sort of like the Indian swamis wear, you know, and sitting in the chair with all the big busty visionary ladies in their white blouses, you know, with buttons up here and the high lace collars and so forth, and their pompadours and so on, and a few Japanese sitting on the floor of that room, there must have been eight or ten of these missionary ladies, they were his students, and he was sitting in the middle of his group, just as cute as it can be, I'm sure he'd sit there. But, as I say, nobody really thought that, in terms of spreading Zen or its Zen's going out, outside, was a, just something that we were just beginning to consider. So, I was thinking, you asked me why, you asked me if I had seen other Sodos, that wasn't in the picture at that time, I mean, there was no interest in

[55:47]

Sodos, I was Nanshinkan's disciple and he'd been wonderful to me, and it didn't ever occur to me to go to look at other Sodos, because I wasn't interested in organization or what another Sodo could provide, or different methods, or it hadn't, the time hadn't come for that yet. What about, would you like to say something about Goto Roshi's teaching, a little bit about his background and his attitude toward teaching and toward practice, in relationship to all this, as one of Sokatsu's disciples? Well, I think Goto Roshi was an excellent teacher

[56:57]

in Sanzen. He was rather intellectual, you know, he was the most intellectual of the, certainly of the three teachers that I worked with. Nanshinkan was the typical, old-fashioned, traditional Sodo man. Soke-an was the free enlightened man teaching, and Goto Roshi was an intellectual, he was primarily an intellectual, and for instance, Soke-an's power in Sanzen could be blasting, I mean, just literally power, and that I never saw with Goto Roshi, any exhibit of power like that, and

[58:06]

he was always more cautious, and, but he could be very tender, and he could be marvelously revealing, sometimes, and very patient, and I am most, most grateful to him. He never talked a great deal to me in Sanzen. Well, I'm also thinking about, to be perhaps a little more concrete, what sort of stress he laid on Zazen? Did he, how was his view about Sodo life, perhaps? Did he feel that Sodo life was so essential or not so essential? Well, I don't think he felt it was essential. I don't even think that he felt that that even, that sitting was very essential.

[59:12]

Goto Roshi. And it is quite true that, so if I tell you the truth of the matter, that Soke-an didn't feel so either, but it was I, coming back from Nanzenji Sodo, and coming into Soke-an's group several years later, after my return, who began the actual practice of sitting among his disciples. He used to take them for Sanzen after they'd sat. He made people sit, come to his lectures for a minimum of three months before he would consider them for Sanzen. This was Soke-an. Soke-an. And he was quite content to have them sit on chairs, and when I upbraided him about not making any effort with them about Zazen, he said,

[60:15]

well, he said, at least I have to have the roof over my head. And if I put them down on cushions and made them do Zazen, he said, I would have no roof over my head, nobody would come. He always prided himself upon supplying through his writings practically all that he needed for his daily necessities, and all that he ever asked of his students was to supply him with a place. That was his, and his membership in his society was based upon, the cost of it, was based upon the number of students he had and the cost of the room divided among the students. That's very practical. Oh, he was very practical, and he was, I suppose, yes, I think it was his nature,

[61:15]

but certainly he had seen Sokatsu do the other, you know, where he had just drained his disciples. And,

[61:25]

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