A Story of Survival: Masabumi Hosono
The Titanic is surrounded by numerous narratives, encompassing tales of love, accounts of survival, and intriguing legends. The tale of Isidor and Ida Straus, the proprietors of Macy's Department Store, is quite remarkable. Ida steadfastly declined to abandon Isidor and insisted on remaining by his side, refusing to board a lifeboat without him. Many are acquainted with the tale of Margaret Brown, known as the Unsinkable Molly Brown, the American socialite and philanthropist who endured the sinking of the Titanic. However, in light of all these widely shared narratives, I would bet that very few individuals today are familiar with Masabumi Hosono, a Japanese civil servant who survived the sinking of the Titanic on April 15, 1912.
Masabumi Hosono was born on October 15, 1870, in the village of Hokura, located in Niigata Prefecture. After finishing a Russian language course at the Tokyo Language School (currently the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies), he took on the role of manager in the Accounting and Investigating Division of the Imperial Railroad Office and subsequently advanced to the position of director. In 1910, during his tenure at the Ministry of Transport, he was dispatched to Russia to study the Russian state railway system. His journey back to Japan began in London, where he spent a brief period, followed by a trip to Southampton, where he boarded the Titanic on April 10, 1912, as a second-class passenger.
On that fateful evening, Hosono was stirred from his slumber by a knock on the door of his cabin. He dashed outside, but as a foreigner, he was directed to the lower decks, far from the boats. He ultimately navigated around the obstruction and reached the boat deck, where he observed emergency flares being launched. As the number of lifeboats remaining dwindled quickly, Hosono encountered a classic moral dilemma. He pondered the possibility of death, resolving to ensure that he left nothing shameful behind as a Japanese subject. Yet, he continued to search for and anticipate any potential opportunity for survival. His chance came when an officer loading lifeboats called out, “Room for two more,” and Hosono noticed a man leap in. Hosono resolved to join the lifeboat, which was filled with sobbing children and women anxious about the safety of their husbands and fathers.
At around 8 am, the passengers of the lifeboat were rescued by the RMS Carpathia. Hosono still had a sheaf of stationery with Titanic's letterhead in his coat pocket, on which he had begun composing a letter to his wife in English. During Carpathia's voyage to New York, he utilized the paper to document his experiences in Japanese. This is the sole document recognized to exist on Titanic stationery.
Hosono made a decision, which he came to wish he hadn't. While the fortunate Brits who survived returned home as heroes, he faced a different outcome altogether. His survival was a source of intense embarrassment for both the Japanese government and the general public. Ultimately, he hadn’t achieved anything remarkable or significant; he had merely survived—and seemingly at the cost of one of the 162 women and children who perished. The Japanese media initially focused on his emotional reunion with his family, but they quickly shifted their tactics and started releasing critical articles accusing him of cowardice. The US newspapers participated in the criticism. Hosono’s actions were compared to the honorable selflessness exhibited by passengers like the American Benjamin Guggenheim, who notably donned his finest evening attire and readied himself to perish alongside his manservant, choosing not to take a spot in a lifeboat meant for a woman or child.
He was compelled to leave his position as a civil servant and inundated with hate mail. His suicide was urged in letters to newspapers and from various other sources. He withdrew from society; even when the public lost interest in his story, he remained silent about it in public. Once the excitement had faded, he found himself reinstated in the civil service—primarily because of a twist of fate. Historian Charles Pellegrino notes in his book “Farewell Titanic” that following the 1923 Kanto earthquake, which severely impacted the Japanese rail network, Hosono was undeniably too qualified to be without work. His position was subtly reinstated, and the country collectively acted as if nothing had transpired, even though Hosono remained enveloped in silent disgrace.
Hosono passed away peacefully in his sleep on March 14, 1939, at the age of 68. After his passing, Hosono's survival lingered as a source of embarrassment for his family for many years. His letter to his wife was published on at least two occasions, shortly after his death and again in 1980, during an unsuccessful attempt to locate the wreck of the Titanic. Hosono’s grandson, renowned for his participation in the Japanese bands Yellow Magic Orchestra and Happy End, has worked to retell his grandfather’s story. In a recent interview, Haruomi “Harry” Hosono shared his family's intention to reveal a different aspect of him: that of a dedicated family man whose greatest wish was to reunite with his wife and children.
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