Takeshi Onishi was trying to keep it together Tuesday, as a steady stream of loyal customers came into Japan Video & Media, the retailer of Japanese and Korean films and figurines he founded more than 40 years ago.
It was the store’s final day. Tears were shed as customers paid their respects. They left thank you notes in the foyer.
Onishi declined to answer questions, because, according to 20-year employee Maria Suwabe, who stood at his side, he would start to cry if he talked about the closure.
With discounts of up to 50% for the clearance sale, customers rushed to buy their final items — many with boba tea in tow. “It’s been four days of running around, but it’s fun because we’ve been seeing all of our old customers,” said Suwabe.
Will Wells, 19, of North Beach walked pensively around the store for the last time. At the register, he somberly bowed his head and thanked Onishi in Japanese.
“Arigatou gozaimasu — it means a lot to me,” he told the owner, from whom he had been buying figurines and DVDs since he was a kid.
“It’s a bit of a sentimental thing for me,” he told The Standard. “I used to come here with my family when we’d get the chance and sort of scope out what was interesting. This place was always special for us, particularly the Hayao Miyazaki films that I was really into.”
At one end of the store, a large pile of Sailor Moon figurines and plushies began to accumulate — the final haul of Gabe Gacayan, 34, who first visited Japan Video & Media in 2010, when they moved to San Francisco from Yuba City for college. They would return to the shop every weekend. “I was big into Sailor Moon in high school, but there was nowhere to buy merch,” they said. After they saw news of the closure on TikTok, they decided to come down one last time.
“I work at a local jewelry boutique, and I know how hard it is after Covid to keep afloat,” Gacayan said. “It’s sad that another store with such a deep history with the city is shutting down, so I want to support as much as I can.”
Customers have been streaming in since Onishi put up a sign announcing the closure last weekend. “We have served over a million people,” he wrote. “We could not have done it without our loyal customers and our dedicated staff. We are grateful for each and every one of you.”
At that moment, Suwabe was particularly grateful to Glen Park resident Richard Wong, who has been coming for 20 years, primarily for samurai movies. As he walked up to the cash register Tuesday, the clerk’s eyes lit up. “We’re very moved that he came in,” she said.
When asked how much he’s bought from the store, Wong shook his head with a laugh. “Impossible to say,” he said. “A lot. The staff, the people — I’m very sad they’re closing.”
It is the end of a run that got its spark in 1972, when Onishi immigrated from Japan. He opened the store in September 1984 to promote Japanese culture and language. It was renowned for its extensive collection of rare subtitled films and series.
Onishi became ingrained in Japantown’s cultural events, organizing the Summer Festival through the 1980s and 1990s. Recognizing the surge in popularity of anime in the late 1990s, Onishi organized the nation’s first costume parade for the Cherry Blossom Festival in 1999, then the launch of the Japan Center Anime Fair in 2010. Both events have become annual traditions, bringing more than 10,000 visitors to Japantown annually. In 2020, the city granted Japan Video & Media “Legacy Business” status.
Despite its cultural significance, the store has faced challenges from changing market trends and the pandemic. Onishi, 78, is retiring.
Suwabe said she plans to return to teaching elementary school, integrating anime and manga to introduce American youth to Japanese culture.
Axl Sugaya Kerner, who has been working at the store for a year and a half, is just starting his professional life. On Tuesday, he showed up to thank Onishi and Suwabe and say a final goodbye to the store that has offered a haven for his Japanese heritage.
“You got this! You did so good,” Suwabe said to a tearful Sugaya Kerner, who recently graduated from high school and brought in his bespoke anime mortarboard.
“I’ve been going here since I was a kid, and it was my first job,” he said, tears breaking through the bleached locks of hair that hung over his eyes. “It’s really hard losing something that has done so much for not just the Japanese community but the nerd community in San Francisco. Millions of people come here from all over the world.”
