The Surprising Story Behind Honjamaka’s Hidehiko Ishizuka’s Signature

“I always dreamed of someone asking me for my autograph”

Hello, everyone! I’m Hidehiko Ishizuka. Back when I was practicing with my high school judo club, I wasn’t particularly hardworking; I just sweated a lot. Yet I somehow made my teacher shout, “Look at Ishizuka! The rest of you should work just as hard!”

This time, I’d like to write about the theme of “Me and My Autograph.”

I’m sure every entertainer has dreamed of the day someone would come up and say, “Could I have your autograph?” I became a trainee at Gekidan Himawari at 20. At 22, I joined Watanabe Production (now Watanabe Entertainment), where I studied comedy, and in 1989, I formed the comedy duo Honjamaka.

During the seven years before Honjamaka was formed, I don’t remember ever signing an autograph. However, the basic design of my signature had already been created when I was 20.

It happened when I was working as an extra in a war movie during my time at Gekidan Himawari. I was chatting in a large waiting room with a veteran extra from another agency when he asked me, “Do you have an autograph signature?”

Naturally, I said no. He replied, “Well, I’ll come up with one for you.” After I told him my name, he smoothly wrote out a signature on a piece of memo paper and handed it to me, saying, “There you go!”

He explained that the key points were to make it fan out toward the end, which is considered auspicious, and to write it in a single stroke because I’d be signing it so many times in the future.

I thanked him and carefully put the piece of paper away. When I got home, I took another look at it, but—to my surprise, I couldn’t make out what it said at all.

Still, I thought, “So that’s what an autograph is supposed to look like.” I remember practicing it by myself at home and while working part-time jobs, dreaming of the day someone would ask me for my autograph.

The thoughts behind my autograph

Incidentally, I’m still using that same signature today. However, since it’s so difficult to tell whose autograph it is, I add the words, “Thank you very much. Hidehiko Ishizuka.” My very first autograph was for a fan who approached me as I was leaving a live performance venue.

“Could I have your autograph?”

I had waited so many years to hear those words. The number of autographs an entertainer signs reflects how well-known they are. Every time the number goes up, my confidence grows.

Many celebrities disguise themselves by wearing hats or sunglasses to avoid being recognized. But because I love signing autographs, I go out into town looking just as I normally do. In fact, I even walk around town wearing overalls.

There was a time when I tried wearing hats, sunglasses, and masks, but I gave up after just one week. I couldn’t find a hat that fit my head, which gave me a headache; my sunglasses fogged up from my body heat; and wearing a mask made it hard to breathe.

From my 30s into my 40s, after I became known as a food reporter, the meaning of my autograph began to change.

When visiting restaurants, I didn’t just comment on how the food tasted. I also asked about the hardships the owners had endured to perfect their dishes and the process of getting their businesses established. I spent time accompanying people working in the fishing industry, experienced the daily tasks of farmers, and even helped take care of cows in the barns at ranches.

I came to deeply understand how many people’s hard work goes into bringing us something “maiu” (delicious).

From that point on, my autograph changed from something I wrote to boost my own confidence into a letter of gratitude addressed to everyone involved in bringing food to our tables. I hope to continue expressing my appreciation to people all across Japan.

From the October 16, 2026 issue of “FRIDAY”