A RETAIL REVOLUTION

Male Shoppers and the Creation of the Modern Shop

Sources from the first half of the twentieth century related to the consumption of photography reveal that men were avid consumers of photographic commodities and that they actively participated in the world of shopping, though they often were positioned as needing guidance in their shopping. Photography monthlies and how-to literature offered men extensive advice on procuring all manner of photographic commodities. Shopping as a masculine activity, however, had to be a rational practice, grounded in a dispassionate attitude and based on research. Thus, consumption for men did not happen willy-nilly but was defined within particular parameters of masculine identity — rationality, knowledge, and disassociation.

On the other side of the shop counter, camera sellers like Konishi Roku created a retail environment, what retail strategists today might call the "in-store customer experience," that matched male shoppers' expectations. Everything from the material experience of the shop, its architecture and layout, to its management style, drew on rational, dispassionate retail strategies. Glass display cases created visual access to goods, which a consumer could now compare side by side in an unbiased manner. A salaried workforce, wearing Western suits, provided knowledgeable and reliable service. For the high-end camera shopper, this retailing experience dovetailed seamlessly with the way marketers and commentators positioned photography and the camera as the most modern and rational of consumer technologies.

The Male Consumer Shops for a Camera

Even though scholars have often seen shopping as an activity in which the act of "acquiring the goods for consumption ... was socially perceived as a feminine task," at least according to shop owners, men did indeed shop. In fact, it was the male office worker, so often represented in literature and film of the time as a symbol of Japan's modernization of the metropolis, who uniquely had sufficient expendable income and free time to frequent Tokyo's numerous camera shops. The upper levels of salaried workers were the very men who shopped at the camera counter at Mitsukoshi or at Konishi Roku's main shop in Nihonbashi. Office clerks and shop hands, also salarymen but existing on the periphery of middle-class prosperity, window-shopped at Mitsukoshi but probably bought their cameras at one of the many used-camera shops dotting Tokyo's east side.

If men had the time and money to shop, they still required much guidance in the proper approach to consumption. Suzuki Hachiro offered one of the most extensive and detailed guides to shopping for a camera in his how-to book, Knowledge of the Camera and How to Choose One (1937), the first volume in his series The Arusu Course in Popular Photography. Foremost among the "Five Principles for Choosing a Camera" is "money," especially for the first-time buyer. In Suzuki's account, men are just as susceptible to the buying impulse as women, but the risk in the case of a camera is especially high and requires a rational and reasonable approach:

You head out to buy a necktie on sale for a yen, but even though you end up splurging because there are none less than six yen, and even though you will have to refrain from getting anything new for two or three months, still it's done. But in the case of a camera, this kind of recklessness would be a serious matter. Therefore, it is necessary to clearly decide on a budget.

Second, the consumer should choose a camera that suits his purposes. Suzuki reminds readers that the camera is a tool and an appropriate camera exists for every approach to photography — just as different kinds of vehicles function as tools for different forms of transport. For example, a truck transports goods while a bus transports people, and so on. Accordingly, Suzuki advises that consideration be given to the uses the camera will be put — travel, work, or leisure — before making any decisions. Once the buyer is clear about the way he will use the camera, the choice will become that much easier. Suzuki then goes on to describe how different camera models fulfill different photographic objectives: the single-lens reflex camera works well for artistic photography; the Leica is best to capture motion and mechanistic beauty; and for the nostalgic look, nothing is better than the vest pocket camera. Suzuki's third piece of advice to his readers is to choose a camera from as reputable a company as possible: "This is not limited to cameras but applies to all routine shopping." The best way for a novice to judge a product, according to Suzuki, is by its maku (brand). If you need light bulbs, then you can't go wrong with the Matsuda brand; for small motors, trust Shibaura. It is exactly the same when shopping for a camera. One must look beyond what the ads say and see which brands have been trusted by the most people over the years. The fourth step is to pick a camera that is easy to use rather than one that is overly complicated. Finally, Suzuki recommends that, just as when deciding on an automobile, it is important to consider quality over decoration.

Together these five factors are meant to help a consumer new to the world of camera shopping choose his "one and only camera." Once the consumer settles on a camera brand and type, the next step is to prepare for the shop experience. In "Instructions for Buying a Camera," Suzuki advises, "First, you must do research." After deciding on a budget, the knowledgeable shopper uses catalogues to decide on the proper model of camera and necessary equipment and accessories. Photographs and descriptions of "absolutely necessary accessories" fill two pages and include the following: a sokusha case (a camera case with a strap worn over the shoulder that allows easy access to the camera for quick or even impulsive photographing), a tripod, a lens cover, a light meter, and a range finder. The next step is to "consult with a more experienced colleague." And if you have no colleagues who can help you, go to a camera shop and speak to a knowledgeable clerk. "Once you've made a decision, don't turn back." And by all means, do not let an eager clerk try to change your mind or sell you the display model. "Inspect the camera" to make sure that you are getting your money's worth. Suzuki recommends a cursory check before leaving the shop to be sure that the body is intact and that all the accessories are included. Still, a fuller examination at home is necessary, and he offers detailed tips on how to go about a thorough check of the camera and all its parts. Finally, "take a test [roll]." Using all the equipment, the owner of anew camera should keep one roll of film, or several plates depending on the model, to test the inner mechanics. With these practical tips in mind, buying a camera can be a relatively painless process, though perhaps not as painless as buying a necktie.

Suzuki's tips are typical of how-to books aimed at the newcomer to hobby photography. Most authors, in fact, list buying a camera as the first step in the process of taking and making pictures. By taking seriously the buying process, how-to writers transformed the act of shopping, which was commonly associated in the popular imagination with the irrational impulses of female consumers, into a disciplined, even scientific, practice. In the case of a camera, the recommended customer journey requires research, consultation, and determination to make the proper purchase, the one that enables the amateur to practice photography according to his well-thought-out plans. As Suzuki describes it, purchasing a new camera can be an overwhelming experience, especially for the first-time camera owner. Even though he describes at length the five basic models of cameras, Suzuki readily admits that there are hundreds of kinds of cameras and for every camera there are even more accessories. Choosing the perfect camera and accessories is so confounding that "really, you can't laugh at women buying clothes in a department store."

Yomiuri Newspaper's Guide to Merchandise

Guides to shopping for products were not unique to the camera market. Throughout the mid-1930s, the Yomiuri Newspaper published "Handy News," a regular column with consumer tips on shopping for everyday products. Articles that ran throughout 1936 were collected and published in a single volume in 1937 under the title A Guide to Merchandise. The book jacket promotes this volume as a necessary home reference work: "Every household needs one copy! Before you go shopping, take a look at this book first!" In the preface, the editors offer the following reasons for the publication:

As we were publishing the articles [we heard that] department stores and shops were using them as materials to include as part of a clerk's education and that girls' schools and finishing schools were clipping the articles in order to make a single reference book on everyday products.

Also, we wanted to help increase the proper awareness of everyday products among the general populace [ippan no hitobito], and we thought it could be used as a reference when buying and choosing the products that we have included in this volume.

A Guide to Merchandise is filled with small articles on over 280 different products arranged according to several categories. Under "Foodstuffs" are such topics as rice, noodles, canned goods, eel, beef, biscuits, fish cakes, soba, butter, beans, konbu, bonito flakes, sake, tofu, peaches, edamame, and tomatoes. The editors offer details on fountain pens, ink, watercolors, and school bags in the "Stationery" section. Dress shirts, shoes, umbrellas, neckties, sweaters, raincoats, and socks are some of the products treated in "Accessories and Men's Furnishings." In "Miscellaneous," we find tips on everything from tents, irons, and cut glass to shoji paper, charcoal, and Buddhist altars.

The individual articles, ranging from one to three pages, typically describe the product in detail and then advise shoppers what to look for when choosing that product in the store. When buying sesame oil, for example, you should choose oil that is amber in color and clear. Did you know that originally mosquito-repellent incense (katori senko) was made from the petals of the Dalmatian pyrethrum, a vermifuge chrysanthemum? Because it is too expensive and difficult to make into its typical coil shape, these days producers make the incense using a mixture of chrysanthemum petals (50 percent), chrysanthemum stalks (30 percent), and a paste (20 percent). And when buying a necktie, do not be tempted by the pattern of individual ties; rather, you must keep in mind the kind of clothing that you already own.

Tucked between a rather full treatise on fishing gut and a piece on reading lamps is an article on cameras: "A camera is the one thing you want to commemorate scenes and people that will make up your memories of the fun times." According to the editors, you can find a good domestically produced camera for about twenty-five yen or a decent import for around sixty to seventy yen. They advise potential consumers on what to look for when buying a new camera, recommending that shoppers be especially careful about inspecting the lens and shutter before making a purchase. An amateur is not really qualified to judge the quality of a lens, but if he buys one for at least fifty yen, he can be certain that it has passed a rigorous inspection. Just as Suzuki suggests, the editors recommend going to a trustworthy shop and taking a test roll of film before making a final purchase.

The Konishi Roku Brand

When George Eastman visited Japan in the spring of 1920, he accepted only two invitations to receptions in his honor among the many that he was offered. One of them was hosted by Konishi Rokuzaemon, the founder of Konishi Roku, who hosted a banquet at a hall in Ryogoku on the evening of 28 April. Konishi Roku was Japan's leading producer and retailer of camera and light-sensitive materials in the first half of the twentieth century. Rokuzaemon invited more than 120 people — photographic industry leaders, famous photographers, and most important, the press — to welcome Eastman to Japan. The guests hailed Eastman, who was most pleased, with the enthusiastic ring of three shouts of "Banzai." As mentioned in the Introduction, despite his very busy schedule, Eastman visited as many camera shops and photo studios as time would allow. One of those visits was to the headquarters and main retail outlet of Konishi Roku on 26 April. There, Eastman is said to have closely inspected and praised Konishi's products, especially a projection printer and a Lily camera. He also had a portrait taken by Ono Takataro in Konishi Roku's newly outfitted photography studio that was published as the first gravure in the May 1920 issue of Shashin geppo. Eastman's visit to Japan was highly publicized in the photographic press. And his brand, Kodak, was well known among even casual photographers. While it may not have sparked the same level of public excitement that Charlie Chaplin's visit did several years later in 1932,Eastman's tour gave the top camera makers, especially Konishi Roku, the opportunity to publicize their names alongside Eastman's and to garner some of that international acclaim and reputation for their own cause.

Long before Eastman's visit in 1920, however, Konishi Roku was already held in high regard, at least within Japan and the Japanese colonies, and was well known for its success at producing cameras and photographic materials that were both reliable and relatively affordable. In addition, Konishi Roku was one of the earliest examples of a Japanese company embracing modern marketing and retailing strategies to promote not only its own products but also a more general awareness of its brand and to actively promote a strong association of a brand with an entire product category and field of consumption. Rokuzaemon had seized early upon an easily recognizable, iconic trademark — the cherry blossom (Figure 1.1). Later the design was simplified into an elegant flower pattern with the character for the number 6 (roku) in the middle of the petals. The cherry blossom was also the inspiration behind the name of Konishi's production company, Rokuosha, established in 1898. The name "Rokuosha" was a combination of the "Roku" of "Rokuzaemon," the adopted trade name of Konishi Roku's founder, Konishi Rokuzaemon (né Sugiura Rokusaburo), and a play on the Chinesereading of the character for cherry tree (sakura). The new production facility was located in Yodobashi-cho, in suburban Tokyo, where it is said that Rokuzaemon had seen many lovely cherry trees in full bloom at the time he purchased the land. Sakura was also the brand-name for Konishi Roku's line of film products and developing materials. An advertisement for Sakura Film and Paper Products from 1936, shown in Figure 1.2, shows the way that Konishi Roku's designers incorporated both the company trademark and the theme of cherry blossoms into product packaging.

A Modern Department Store for Photography

Konishi Roku's efforts to promote its name and reputation extended well beyond trademarks and packaging. The brand's Nihonbashi shop and headquarters transformed a typical Meiji-era shop (Figure 1.3) into a glass and granite goliath in 1916 and stood as a monument both to photography and to the modern shopping experience, replete with huge plate glass windows and dressed with an escalator, welcoming staff, and mahogany waiting area (Figure 1.4). The scale of Konishi Roku's new shop and its connecting annex, its incredible diversity of goods related to photography and lithography, and the attention to attractive display contributed to the image of the newly built shop as a "photography department store." It is worth noting that this particular department store experience was created for male consumers. Despite the attention that scholars have given to the department store as the sphere for women's public participation in the economy, retailers like Konishi Roku were acutely aware that the majority of their customers were men and created a suitably masculine atmosphere for their clientele, befitting, in this case, the store's location in the bustling commercial and office district of Nihonbashi.

Two large plate glass show windows framed the central entrance to the store. The window on the right displayed goods for photographic printing, and the window on the left displayed cameras (Figure 1.5). Though glass had been used at the entrance of some shops from the mid-Meiji period, plate glass show windows were part and parcel of the retail revolution taking place in urban Japan from the late nineteenth century. Guides to new retail practices highlighted the importance of well-appointed show windows in attracting passersby: "Artfully decorating the inside of a show window is one method to make passersby stop and draw customers in both indirectly and directly." The first retail establishment to incorporate the plate glass show window was the venerable Mitsukoshi Department Store in 1903. That same year, an Osaka manufacturer had successfully produced thin plate glass suitable for show windows. Prior to that, all plate glass was imported.