My Samurai Ancestor’s first business trip to the US

How his 1860 trip to America ended up giving me an unexpected adventure in Washington, DC

One of my great-great-grandfathers had been a retainer of the Tokugawa shogunate. In 1860, the very end of the shogunate, he sailed to America aboard the USS Powhatan as part of Japan’s first delegation to the United States.

Most Japanese people, when they hear “samurai who crossed the ocean” and the mission to the US in 1860, immediately think of the ship Kanrin-maru. And yes, that’s correct — but that’s not the whole story! The Kanrin-maru only went as far as San Francisco. Another group — my ancestor’s group — continued all the way to Washington, DC.

Why two ships, two sets of samurai at the same time? Not for sightseeing or cultural exchange for sure. They had something very official to deliver to the White House.

After Commodore Perry’s black ships arrived in 1853, Townsend Harris came pressing the shogunate — “let’s be friends, open your ports, let’s trade freely.” After much back-and-forth, the shogunate signed the Treaty of Amity and Commerce in 1858. In 1860, Japan sent a mission to hand-carry the official ratification papers.

In other words: Japan’s very first overseas business trip!

The main delegation carrying the ratified documents set sail on the Powhatan from Shinagawa. The Kanrin-maru was dispatched ahead as backup — if something happened to the Powhatan, they’d at least have representation in San Francisco. Once the Powhatan arrived safely, the Kanrin-maru turned back to Japan (supposedly one reason being that Kaishū Katsu — the famous samurai reformer and the captain of the ship — seasick the entire time, refused to go any further).

The official party then traveled onward via Panama — this was before the canal, so they crossed by train — then by ship up the Atlantic to Washington, DC. Three months after departure, they arrived. After exchanging the ratified treaties, they toured Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York (where they even paraded down Broadway) before sailing back to Japan via the Cape of Good Hope, nearly circling the globe.

The Kanrin-maru gets most of the glory because it was “the first Japanese ship to sail abroad,” while the Powhatan was operated by the seasoned U.S. Navy.

And because its passengers included famous figures like Katsu Kaishū (an end-of-Edo-period reformer), Fukuzawa Yukichi (founder of Keio University and the face on the 10,000-yen note), and John Manjirō (a shipwrecked fisherman who became the first Japanese to live in the U.S., later an interpreter and educator). Marketing gold.

Many people even think they were the ones who went to the White House (they weren’t).

Navy Yard, Unveiling a Monument

The delegation in 1860, at Navy Yard

Fast forward to today: a monument has now been erected at DC’s Navy Yard, where the delegation landed. My parents, visiting from Japan, invited me along, and I was able to attend the unveiling as one of the descendants. I didn’t do anything myself, but it felt like my ancestor had dropped a little adventure into my lap.

My daughter was given the honor of unveiling the monument with other descendants’ children. My mother had hauled over my old kimono from Japan, and after some chaos we got her dressed up for the big moment.

The Navy Yard sits along the Anacostia River. Back when I lived in DC, I rowed dragon boats nearby. At the time, there wasn’t much around — definitely not the safest neighborhood. And the Anacostia? Absolutely filthy. A teammate once nearly died after bacteria got into a wound on his foot from the water.

These days, though, the area has been transformed — Nationals Stadium opened, sleek condos and offices line the streets. The difference is as shocking as “old fishing-village Hong Kong” versus today’s neon Hong Kong.

Security at the Yard was tight, still tense after a recent mass shooting. Still, the ceremony was warm. Descendants had flown in from Japan, the Navy hosted, and speeches were given.

The head of the descendants’ association spoke, as did Norman Mineta — the legendary Japanese American politician whose name graces San Jose Airport. A former Commerce and Transportation Secretary, Mineta was the first Asian American Cabinet member. He’s 84 now; I’d just seen him parading in an open car at San Francisco’s Cherry Blossom Festival, trailed by a pack of cosplayers, and wondered about his health. But here he was, cane in hand, standing tall, his voice deep and smooth like a blues singer, relaxed and witty as ever. Later I went up to him — “We’re from California too!” — and he was charming, though just as quick to cut the conversation off on his own terms, politician-style.

Ambassador Oike also gave a great speech. He said, “Diplomats usually work in the background, unnoticed. In my entire career, I’ve never seen a foreign military host a memorial like this for a Japanese delegation.” It’s true — the mission’s actual purpose was bureaucratic, delivering documents. But because it was such a dramatic first — sailing so far, from a country still under isolation — the Japanese attachment to the story runs deep.

Also present were descendants of Colonel Du Pont (yes, Dupont Circle is named after him), who had hosted the delegation back in 1860. They even brought artifacts — a sword and a telescope — gifts from the Japanese delegation.

And here’s the monument, unveiled by my daughter. She was showered with compliments, basking in the attention, thrilled to befriend the older girls who unveiled it with her.

Here’s a photo of my great-great-grandfather, then in his twenties. Later he also joined the 1862 mission to Europe. Clearly a man who didn’t get seasick.

As a kid I was excited to hear I had such an ancestor — though I confused him with the Kanrin-maru crew thanks to history manga. Later I realized he had traveled ahead of me almost everywhere I’d lived or visited: New York, DC, San Francisco, even Egypt and Malta. For a moment I wondered if it was destiny. Realistically, of course, he was simply sent to major world cities, and I happened to follow the same well-worn paths. Pure coincidence.

Most likely, he was just a young samurai sent abroad on orders, more like a salaryman told to go on a business trip than a romantic adventurer. The mission itself deserves to be remembered for its historical importance. But as for me, I don’t want to overstate its meaning just because I’m a descendant. These days I’m more focused on moving forward with my family than on dwelling in the past. Maybe when I’m older I’ll see it differently.

Still, I do wonder: how did he himself see it? As a duty? An opportunity? If I could ask him one thing, it would be that.

In the end, it was a memorable trip: my daughter got a unique role, I met distant relatives, revisited DC, learned more about my ancestor’s later work. Clearly, his overseas experience hadn’t been wasted.

So at least take this away: it wasn’t the Kanrin-maru that went to Washington and New York!

Afterword: I originally wrote this piece in 2016. In Japan, there’s an association of descendants that holds regular online/offline meetings, where they share documents, research the ancestors and the surrounding history, and approach things in a kind of “amateur historian” spirit. My father and the older generation are especially active in it now.

As for me, I’ve mostly been watching from the sidelines — rather than getting too caught up in the past, I still find myself busy enough with the present. Still, many of them feel strongly that the achievements of our ancestors deserve fuller and fairer recognition. In line with that wish, there’s been a lot of excitement recently: the next NHK Taiga drama (a year-long prestige historical series, a bit like if the BBC or HBO devoted an entire season to the life of a single historical figure) will feature Oguri Kozukenosuke — one of the leaders of the mission — as its main character.

For me, the real reward of this experience was reconnecting with a distant cousin in Hawaii. We haven’t met in person yet, but we share a love of food (among other things) and sometimes chat online. I can’t wait for the day we finally meet.