Today, the 94-year-old’s hands are still carving bamboo. Masaoka Tamura of Saomasa, a Sendai rod maker. He is the last rod maker single-handedly preserving this traditional craft that has continued since the time of Date Masamune. He lays three pieces of bamboo on a single rod, creating joints with hair-thin precision. The tools, the silverwork – everything is done by his own hands. The solitary craftsman, who says, "This isn't a job you can teach," has dedicated his life to pursuing the "ultimate rod." What is it?
Masaoka Tamura
Born in 1932 (Showa 7) in Miyagi Prefecture. He is the sole inheritor of the Sendai rod, beloved even by Date Masamune. From a young age, he watched his father work and taught himself how to make rods. As an elementary school student, he was called a "genius" by fishing enthusiasts, and now runs the Saomasa Bamboo Rod Manufacturing Shop. He is a craftsman who single-handedly performs about 200 processes, from selecting bamboo to finishing, and many enthusiasts from all over Japan visit his workshop, "Saomasa."
(*Article content is based on information at the time of interview)
#1 Sendai Rod Loved by Date Masamune
Masamune was a master of catching ayu and yamame. The ultimate craftsmanship, passed down for 400 years since his era.
──When did Sendai rods originate?
They've been around since Masamune's time. Date Masamune loved ayu and yamame fishing.
He slipped, fell, and broke his rod by about 15 centimeters. That became a famous rod. It's said that the unnecessary part broke off.
Indeed, if you wade waist-deep into the river, the current is strong and your body sways. Even in such conditions, the rod's flexibility allows you to reel in ayu without breaking the line.
No matter how clumsy the person using this rod, the line stretches easily and doesn't break. With a weight of about one-fifth of a grain of rice, it flies perfectly.
──What technique is used for this beautiful lacquer?
This is "Kinnashiji," which Date Masamune loved. It's beautiful, isn't it?
──The character "Chiyo" is engraved on the rod.
You see, there were a thousand Jizo statues next to Atago Shrine by the Hirose River. This "Chiyo." That's how Sendai got its name.
──How many rod makers were there in Sendai in the past?
There were 21. But anglers would pick up rods, compare them, and even those who bought from other rod shops would realize the difference after using them.
Even without connecting the rod, just by looking at its shape and craftsmanship, people around would say, "Oh, you're not a full-fledged angler if you're using a rod like that."
So, eventually, they would come to me saying, "Please make one for me somehow."
──And you've been making them ever since?
Decades ago, about 50 years ago, I once said I would "quit."
Then my customers pleaded with me, "Please don't quit; we'll buy two every month."
As years pass, customers gradually pass away. But as long as there are living customers, I can't say, "I've quit."
#2 The Reason a Rod Made in Second Grade is Still Functional Today
A rod in use since before the war. The secret of a rod that transcends 84 years.
──Could you show me the oldest rod in your workshop?
The oldest? The one I made when I was in second grade.
──Second grade!? How many years ago was that?
The year it was made is written here. 1940, before the war.
──Can a rod from 84 years ago still be used today?
Yes, it can. I lend this to customers while they wait for their ordered rod to be made. Because it's used for a long time, it does get a little scratched.
But it doesn't break. Of course, if it's handled poorly, it will break.
For example, if you ride a bicycle roughly on glass, it will break. So I carefully instruct people not to handle it that way.
──I hear you grew up watching your father work from the time you crawled.
My mother passed away early, so I was often around my father.
And all of my father's friends were masters. I listened to their stories all the time and thought, "Ah, I see." From that, I gradually learned the trade.
──Did you continue making rods during the war?
After the war started, I was evacuated to a farm and made rods from green bamboo. The farmers were happy when I gave them the fish I caught.
Food was scarce, and we even ate weeds. Perhaps those hardships contributed to my tenacity.
#3 The Obsession Residing in Micro-Level Joints
Three pieces of bamboo into one, tolerating no deviation even to the width of a single hair. A world of invisible precision.
Look at this. This rod is made of three pieces of bamboo.
──Three? It looks like a single piece of bamboo...
I split the bamboo into three pieces, cure them, and then join them together like the Mercedes-Benz logo. Commercially available rods use bamboo as is, so they can become wobbly.
But when you use three pieces, it becomes incredibly strong. Yet, it bends beautifully and flexibly as one single piece.
This is micro-level work. You do things that can't be seen by intuition.
──How wide are the joints?
1.5 millimeters. You carve the bamboo with hair-thin precision and fit them perfectly.
──There's thread.
I wrap silk thread all over it. The silk thread reinforces the thin bamboo so it doesn't break.
Then, multiple layers of lacquer are applied and polished. The finish is done slowly, taking time, so the lacquer doesn't become unruly.
If you finish it quickly, the lacquer moves. If you do it slowly, it never moves. It shines like glass, even after hundreds of years.
──How can you create such precision?
Well, I guess I have good intuition. I think there's some innate intuition, but my mother passed away early, so I grew up constantly watching my father work.
Also, I think it's a big factor that I've always made all my own tools.
