THE year was around 1982 or 1983. I was based in Taipei setting up a joint venture in the logistics field between a Taiwanese firm and an American firm that hired me to get it done. One of my first big breaks after getting into logistics in 1979. I was the man on the ground, so to speak, but reported to the regional head of Asia who was Tokyo-based. This meant I was in Tokyo every 10 to 12 weeks or so which suited me fine as I lived in Japan eight years before and loved it. Another benefit was that my boss loved the Okura hotel lobby bar and used it a lot for business-related drinking sessions. Yes — 1980's Japan business was very much '"whiskey-and-water" oriented.
So the Okura, which first opened in 1962, was an institution in Japan; one of the finest hotels in Asia — and perhaps the world — for that matter. My boss put me up there on my reporting trips was one of the hidden perks I super enjoyed. By the way, yes — that is the same Okura chain that has made its way to Manila now as well. The Okura was in the heart of the diplomatic section of Tokyo as well, so you never knew who you might see day by day... which leads to this column.
One early morning I was to meet my boss at breakfast at 7:30 a.m. sharp downstairs. No small feat as we had said our goodnights in the Okura bar at 2 a.m. where we had been with clients and suppliers. I was truly hungover at 7:15 a.m. or so as I stepped into the elevator where I was the solo passenger. The elevator descended several floors then stopped, and all hell suddenly broke loose.
Two burly Japanese men rushed into the elevator and physically grabbed me by both arms and dragged me out of the elevator with my briefcase flying to the floor. Yes, there was something called a "briefcase" in the corporate world in the '80s and nary a personal computer in sight. I thought they might be Yakuza except for the earpieces I noted in their ears. Also standing in the corridor was another Western burly guy, with an earpiece in his ear, standing next to his boss... the Premier of Canada... Pierre Trudeau. I recognized him by the curly receding hairline and the angular nose. Plus, it flashed in my mind: I had read in the Asahi Shimbun that he was going to be in town for talks.
He scolded his security guards with a "that wasn't necessary gentlemen" comment and smiled while nodding me into the elevator to join them. As we descended, he apologized again and asked me how I liked the Okura. I remember he said he really loved these "Japanese-style hotels," which struck me as a little odd as after all, we were in Japan. The Canadian security guy just watched me neutrally while the two Japanese bulldogs glared at me with unearned menace.
When we hit the lobby there must have been like 30 to 50 reporters and Japanese government officials waiting. Trudeau did an impromptu greeting and then fielded about four to five questions all the while with me in the background in my suit and briefcase. There was no way I was going to lose my 15 minutes of fame; after all, I earned my spot in the elevator with him that early morning.
In future columns, I will be sharing some other adventures of my 40-plus years in and around Asia before settling here in Baguio.
