‘Yokohama Mary’: Looking back at the life of one of the city’s most mysterious figures
An enigmatic woman wearing a frilly white dress stands silently outside Matsuzakaya department store in Yokohama’s Isezakicho district during a local festival. Her face is caked in white makeup and her eyes are lined in black.
The same woman wearing the same white dress and makeup stands near an elevator in the GM Building in the backstreets of Isezakicho, where she would collect tips in exchange for pressing buttons for customers as they make their way to their appointments.
She later sits her belongings and sleeps in a corridor of the same building. At other times, she dozes on a wooden chair, upon which a cushion bears a hand-scratched expression of love in what seems to be Japanese and Chinese. The etching reads, “I love you Ms. Meri.”
The above images are included in an award-winning 2006 documentary by Takayuki Nakamura on one of Yokohama’s most well-known personalities: “Yokohama Mary.”
Mary has over the years almost become something of an urban legend. Many locals either knew of the homeless woman’s existence and some had even seen her, but no one really seemed to know anything about her.
Some say she was a former “pan-pan” girl, a street pr*stitute who served American soldiers during the Allied Occupation of postwar Japan. Outside of that, however, little is known about Mary’s background.
Rumor has it that she once appeared on the cover of Life magazine. Others have argued that she wasn’t homeless at all, but lived in luxurious accommodation in the expensive district of Yamate. It has even been said that Mary was a descendent of the Imperial family, with some calling the woman “Her Majesty.”
In 1995, however, she suddenly disappeared. Locals thought she had probably died or had gone back to her hometown — supposedly in either Ibaraki, Fukushima or Hiroshima prefecture — and checked into a nursing home. However, no one knew what really happened to her.
Nakamura likens Mary’s presence in the area to the statue of Hachiko near Tokyo’s Shibuya Station.
“If Hachiko disappears one day without warning, everyone would be flummoxed because the statue’s presence is so natural,” he says. “Her disappearance was that shocking. I started my documentary out of pure curiosity — I just wanted to know what kind of person Mary was.” In his book, Nakamura notes that there were rumors of how Mary used to work at an RAA facility in Kobe before moving to Kanagawa Prefecture.
He found that those who knew her genuinely seemed to care about her and tried to help her in different ways. These people began to tell him about the ways in which Mary had also had an influence on their own lives.
“The people I interviewed began talking about themselves through Mary — their lives, their family, their history and what Yokohama was like back then,” Nakamura says. “Mary was the gatekeeper to these people’s stories.” Once given a ticket and invited to attend the performance. At the conclusion of his set, Mary approached the stage and gave him a present.
The documentary includes footage of this moment, capturing the joy on Nagato’s face as he received his gift. The audience clapped as the two shook hands.
“Few people probably knew who I was, but everyone clapped because Mary was famous,” Nagato says with a laugh in the documentary.
She was homeless so he tried — and failed — to secure some financial support from the government.
He offered Mary some of his own money whenever he could, but she never accepted a straight-up handout.
Mary never forgot to thank those who had helped her and would always return the favor with a small gift or a beautifully handwritten letter that was signed under her pseudonym, “Yukiko Nishioka.”
Others also tried to give Mary their support. Emiko Fukunaga, who worked at cosmetics store Yanagiya, found some white powder for Mary that wasn’t based on oil and could wash off easily with water. Kimiko Yamazaki, who ran a laundry business called Hakushinsha with her husband, let Mary store clothes at the shop and allowed her to change there whenever she needed. Hairdresser Tatsu Yuda would do her hair.
Mary would also sleep in a women’s bathroom in the same building, Mori says.
“I don’t know about her life before Yokohama but she never had a home during her time here,” Mori says. “When she was younger, she would basically find customers and stay at hotels.”
When she was older, Mori adds, “I would find her curled up like a cat, fast asleep on the bathroom counter.”
For decades, the city of Yokohama embraced Mary and its residents were happy to forgive her quirks.
Nakamura eventually found Mary in a nursing home. She had left Yokohama in December of 1995 and was living under her real name, which the documentary does not disclose. The documentary also declined to reveal the nursing home’s location, as Nakamura had promised Mary he would do. She was reportedly content with her new life in the home and no longer wore the white makeup she was famous for.
Mary passed away in January 2005 at the age of 83.
“The people I interviewed began talking about themselves through Mary — their lives, their family, their history and what Yokohama was like back then,” Nakamura says. “Mary was the gatekeeper to these people’s stories.” Once given a ticket and invited to attend the performance. At the conclusion of his set, Mary approached the stage and gave him a present.
The documentary includes footage of this moment, capturing the joy on Nagato’s face as he received his gift. The audience clapped as the two shook hands.
“Few people probably knew who I was, but everyone clapped because Mary was famous,” Nagato says with a laugh in the documentary.
She was homeless so he tried — and failed — to secure some financial support from the government.
He offered Mary some of his own money whenever he could, but she never accepted a straight-up handout.
Mary never forgot to thank those who had helped her and would always return the favor with a small gift or a beautifully handwritten letter that was signed under her pseudonym, “Yukiko Nishioka.”
Others also tried to give Mary their support. Emiko Fukunaga, who worked at cosmetics store Yanagiya, found some white powder for Mary that wasn’t based on oil and could wash off easily with water. Kimiko Yamazaki, who ran a laundry business called Hakushinsha with her husband, let Mary store clothes at the shop and allowed her to change there whenever she needed. Hairdresser Tatsu Yuda would do her hair.
Mary would also sleep in a women’s bathroom in the same building, Mori says.
“I don’t know about her life before Yokohama but she never had a home during her time here,” Mori says. “When she was younger, she would basically find customers and stay at hotels.”
When she was older, Mori adds, “I would find her curled up like a cat, fast asleep on the bathroom counter.”
For decades, the city of Yokohama embraced Mary and its residents were happy to forgive her quirks.
Nakamura eventually found Mary in a nursing home. She had left Yokohama in December of 1995 and was living under her real name, which the documentary does not disclose. The documentary also declined to reveal the nursing home’s location, as Nakamura had promised Mary he would do. She was reportedly content with her new life in the home and no longer wore the white makeup she was famous for.
26-30, M
