The Untold Story of Tsuchiya Kaban: Vol.1

From the first spark of craftsmanship to the founding of a legacy

The Beginning:1953

Kunio Tsuchiya, the founder of Tsuchiya Kaban, was born on February 3, 1938, in Tominoho Village, Gifu Prefecture (present-day Seki City). The fifth of eight siblings, he was affectionately called “Kuni-chan” by his family and neighbors. Raised amidst the region’s abundant nature while helping with the family’s farming work, Kunio showed remarkable dexterity from an early age, delighting in making toys by hand. Even as a child, he carried a quiet but powerful dream of going to Tokyo and forging his own path—a wish that soon propelled him to action.


1953: Fifteen and Bound for Tokyo

In rural Japan during the Showa era, supporting a large family was no easy task. Many young people were forced to leave their hometowns in search of work—and “Kuni-chan” was no exception. Just one week into high school, a former classmate invited him to go to Tokyo. Though he felt the weight of uncertainty, it was overpowered by a deeper sense of possibility. With hope in his heart, he made the decision to leave home and set out on his own.

That journey, taken in 1953 by a fifteen-year-old boy, was like the planting of a small seed—one that would one day grow into Tsuchiya Kaban.

The Apprentice Life, and Dreams of Egg Over Rice

After arriving in Tokyo, young Kunio found work at a Randoseru workshop in Nishiarai, Adachi Ward—an area that would later become home to Tsuchiya Kaban’s current headquarters. The master craftsman who ran the workshop had begun his own training in leatherwork as an elementary school student, living and working on site. Renowned for his exceptional skill, he was both demanding and deeply devoted to the craft, never compromising on quality.

Working under his new employer was rigorous. Each day began at 7 a.m. with cleaning the workshop and caring for tools, followed by long hours of work that usually stretched past 10 p.m. His monthly pay was just 800 yen—at a time when a bowl of ramen cost around 35 yen. Living with his boss’s family, Kunio found himself quietly longing for one simple thing: tamago-kake-gohan, a humble bowl of rice topped with a fresh egg and soy sauce, which they enjoyed at the dinner table. The wish to one day eat his fill of this modest meal became a small but powerful motivation, pushing him to keep refining his skills day after day.

A Leap of Faith: One Year Without Pay

It was the 1950s, and Japan stood on the cusp of rapid economic growth. Tokyo Tower had just risen above the skyline, the Shinkansen bullet train was beginning to transform travel, and Randoseru—once a luxury afforded by few—was becoming a familiar sight on schoolchildren across the country. In the midst of this rapidly evolving city, young Kunio continued to work under his first boss, now with a new role as material sourcer for leather workshops throughout Tokyo. Each day, he pedaled from one atelier to another, delivering hides and placing processing orders. Soon, he developed a discerning eye for leather—learning to read its characteristics and quality with the intuition of a true expert.

As Kunio continued his work in procurement, something began to shift within him. Watching independent craftspeople who were sustaining themselves through their own skill left a deep impression. I want to be like them, he thought—a quiet resolve that grew stronger with each day.

In 1964, as Japan was swept up in the excitement of the Tokyo Olympics, Kunio—now with twelve years of experience in leather procurement—decided to step onto the path of craftsmanship. He approached another master craftsman, a relative of his first mentor, with a bold request: “I don’t need a salary for the first year. In return, please take me on as your apprentice.” It was a leap of faith; a commitment that left no path but forward.


A Year of Intense Training

Kunio’s new master was a man of few words—a craftsman through and through. His teaching philosophy was simple: “learn by watching.” He offered no hands-on instruction, leaving young Kunio to absorb knowledge on his own. Though initially bemused, Kunio relied on the experience he had gained in procurement, his natural dexterity, and above all, an unwavering determination to become a true craftsman. While apprenticeships typically lasted seven or eight years, Kunio mastered everything—from operating the sewing machine to advanced stitching techniques—in the astonishingly short window of just one year.

The First Step Toward Independence

In 1965, at the age of 28, Kunio Tsuchiya used his carefully saved funds to build a workshop-in-residence in Hanahata, Adachi Ward, which was still surrounded by rice paddies at the time. This marked the first step for Tsuchiya Kaban as a company.

The photo shows Kunio Tsuchiya, craftsman Yamagishi, and the young Tsuchiya brothers. The four-year-old in the center is none other than the current president, Masanori Tsuchiya. At the time, the household consisted of just three adults, giving the workshop a close-knit, homey atmosphere. Though everyone was busy with their daily work, the business was gradually and steadily finding its footing.

However, they soon encountered an unexpected challenge. Crafting school bags proved to be far more demanding—and highly seasonal—than they had imagined. The swings in orders between peak and off-peak periods were far greater than they had anticipated.

A Workshop of Three

In a small workshop just under 400 square feet, Kunio began bringing his dream of becoming a Randoseru craftsman to life. Soon after, an 18-year-old named Mitsuo Yamagishi—nicknamed “Micchan” was introduced through a friend to join as Kunio’s first apprentice. Just a week later, Kunio married Sakae, also from Gifu Prefecture, who joined the workshop alongside him. Looking back, Sakae laughs: “Mr. Yamagishi became part of Tsuchiya Kaban even before I did!”

Thus began the trio of Kunio, Sakae, and craftsman Yamagishi working together as one. It was the heyday of the bag industry, and they toiled tirelessly from morning to late night, their sewing machines running almost without pause as orders poured in. And yet, amidst the busy, demanding days, Kunio held a relentless drive that would come to define the spirit of Tsuchiya Kaban. He continued to set his sights even higher, entering competitions organized by the Japan Luggage Association. “Before the competitions, he’d lock himself in his room, researching techniques nonstop, only emerging to use the bathroom—which was quite a bother,” Sakae recalls with a wry smile.

Kunio, who has received numerous awards, shares, “I want to create the best products in Japan. Winning these awards has reinforced my belief that while speed matters, it is even more important to pursue quality relentlessly.”

This steadfast dedication to craftsmanship—where beauty meets elegance—remains the enduring principle of Tsuchiya Kaban, a philosophy that all began in that small workshop.



To be continued in Vol. 2