Raise your hand if you've ever been a Geisha

One of the silly remarks I made doing my little solo comedy number in Tokyo was, "I want a Sumo wrestler!" "Bring me a Sumo wrestler!"

In modern Japan, the Geisha tradition has been replaced with hostesses, lovely ladies in modern dress who join gentlemen's tables by request, then entertain with jokes. Some specialize in dirty jokes, stories, table tricks (like palmistry or origami), and charm. They also turn on a little light when the table needs service. They are paid by the hour, often with big tips added if they are extra beautiful or extra charming. And boy do they dress -- very expensively with beautifully matching shoes, bag, jewelry.

So, some of the hostesses, who were there every night, got together and did, indeed, surprise me with a Sumo wrestler for me! They said he was a friend of one of the hostesses. He was a grand champion named Kashiwada, which I understood meant candy box in Japanese. He wore a traditional Japanese kimono, a sash and sandals. His skin (forearms and face were all I could see) was like velvet -- massaged, he later told me, with sandalwood oil daily after his workout, followed by a steam bath and a hot tub. His long hair was slicked back into a short ponytail, again polished with sandalwood oil. Oh, did he smell divine. But it was fairly clear from the start that he wasn't interested in me, girlfriendwise. Or, at least he never flirted or hand busy hands. He was a little reserved yet friendly.

At the end of the first evening, I sat at his table. After we said good night, he stopped briefly to speak with his friend the hostess. Then she followed me on my way backstage, stopped me and gave me two Japanese bills I recognized as the equivalent of $20 each. I said, "No, no! Why is he giving me money? I can't take that."

She later explained it was customary to pay hostesses, in the Geisha tradition, for their company and conversation. She also explained that the club owners would be insulted if I refused the money and would certainly not come back.

So, I became a Geisha. From then on, my Sumo wrestler came to see me once a week between shows and stayed for the last show. He waited for me, bought me a drink or two then said a sedate and polite good night, leaving my "fee" with his friend to be given to me. Forty extra a week isn't exactly chopped liver! And he was fun to be around, very educational.

As we got to know each other, I learned my Sumo wrestler was worried about his weight, he told me. You see, he was underweight at 6'2" and 240 pounds. I thought he was gorgeous, like a University of Texas Longhorn fullback. He ordered a fifth of Martell Cordon Bleu cognac and a pound of butter cut into patties with a toothpick. Then he had a patty of butter, and as it melted in his mouth, a shot of cognac to wash it down. He always finished the bottle and the pound of butter with no visible effect.

His English was very good, and as I said, he was fun to talk to. I asked him how he won Sumo matches if he was underweight? He explained it wasn't all about weight. That leverage played a large part, the trick being to use the opponent's weight against him.

About his third visit, in conversation, I discovered he had done his junior year at Purdue University, and was a graduate engineer. Slow as I am, I finally realized he came to see me to practice his English, as well as seek company while he worked at gaining weight.

One evening, the dance band was playing a Gershwin ballad and I impulsively asked Kashi if he would dance with me. He hesitated only a second, then did so. He had a pretty good slow dance. Later, the hostesses told me that was a shocking sight. Sumos never do anything untraditional in public. They are considered the "keepers of the old ways." As a grand champion, Kashiwada was a national hero.

The last week we were there, he came in one night, sent the captain backstage to fetch me as usual, but met me in the lobby instead of waiting for me to be brought to his booth.

He said, "Betty, this is a very special evening. I've brought someone to meet you," gesturing to the most exquisitely beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on. She was dressed in an all-white, traditional kimono and an elaborate brocade Obi with touches of pink. Her tiny feet were slipped into white tabbies and platform sandals. She wore rice powder on her perfect porcelain skin and her black hair was pulled softly back in several chignons with traditional white pearl combs that looked like real pearls. She looked perhaps 16-17 years old, as was her waist in inches. She bowed to me almost all the way to the floor. I smilingly bowed back, not very deeply, apologizing for my lack of manners as a foreigner (a mannerly touch I had learned).

Kashi then introduced her aunt who doubled as her chaperone. Likewise, she was also traditionally dressed in a somber gray kimono. Evidently, the evening had been an engagement party or something of that nature.

The fiance and the aunt were led to a booth, Kashi and I were seated nearby but out of hearing distance.

Of course, I requested information on the wedding, which I learned was to be held three months hence, he said. Kashi told me all about it -- a big, formal, traditional event. He said his fiance had been "dying to meet me," the famous American entertainer.

It was hard to say goodbye to Kashi. I'd become fond of him. He was a worthy national hero.

In Japan, I am told, the lower the bow, the more respect that is being shown. However, it is an insult to bow deeply if it isn't appropriate for the person's status.

So, was Kashi's fiance honoring me, or insulting me with that deep bow? Nah.

That child was too beautiful to have ever had a mean thought. May they now and forever be happy. Forty-three years ago, seems like yesterday.

Today's dancers, as well as those of the late 1960s and all years in between, often catch jobs going to Japan, Paris, Brazil or wherever. We were the first company, I believe, that went to Japan.

Las Vegas dancers have become a very sophisticated group. Am I sophisticated? You betcha, I am. Heck, ya'll, I'm a Geisha!

Betty Bunch is a former dancer. Today, she works with the national Elderhostel Association. Contact her at betbun7@embarqmail.com.