James Masayoshi Mitose – Part 2 Folsom Prison and Beyond the Grave By Michael Patrick Mulvihill

INTRODUCTION

The incarceration of James Masayoshi Mitose in 1974 inflicted lasting damage—not only on his personal reputation, but on his art and his family legacy. Following his death in 1981, Kosho Ryu fractured into competing claims of authority, each asserting legitimacy over the title of Grand Master.

Was this division a direct consequence of his downfall?

Or had the fracture already begun earlier—when Mitose, after relocating to the U.S. mainland, distanced himself publicly from his art, leaving a vacuum filled by speculation and reinterpretation?

Or does the issue run deeper still—rooted in longstanding ambiguities surrounding the origins and transmission of Kosho Ryu itself?

Thomas Barros Mitose

We begin with the position of Mitose’s son, Thomas Barros Mitose.

Barros asserts that he is the rightful Grand Master of Kosho Ryu. His claim is founded entirely on bloodline.

In an interview conducted by Professor N. Geary on January 3rd, he stated:

“I am his son. I am his bloodline. No matter what anyone says. The only one who can assume grand mastery in Kosho Ryu—they have to be bloodline.”

He attributes a similar sentiment to his father:

“You can be any rank you want to be. You have my blood in you.”

From Barros’s perspective, the matter is not open to debate.

However, his position raises immediate and serious questions.

Barros expresses uncertainty about the very system he claims to lead. He speculates that Kosho Ryu may be a family system, or possibly related to Shorinji Kenpo, while rejecting links to Motobu Choki. These are not clarifications—they are denials and conjectures offered in place of explanation.

The result is striking.

A man claiming grand mastery appears uncertain about the origins, structure, and identity of the system itself.

This creates a fundamental contradiction:

How can one claim mastery over an art that one cannot clearly define?

If Barros’s reasoning is accepted, then bloodline becomes both the necessary and sufficient condition for authority. Training, technical understanding, and transmission of knowledge are rendered secondary—if not irrelevant.

Kosho Ryu, in this framing, shifts from a martial system into something closer to inheritance—an esoteric possession tied to lineage rather than practice.

Barros dismisses other claimants outright, stating they “know nothing.” He further claims that his own family was unaware of Mitose’s teaching activities, suggesting that much of the historical record from the 1950s onward is based on hearsay.

If taken at face value, this introduces an additional problem:

If even the immediate family lacked awareness of Mitose’s teachings, then the foundation of authority—whether bloodline or technical lineage—becomes increasingly unstable.

Bruce Juchnick

Bruce Juchnick met Mitose in the 1970s after being alerted to the fact that James Masayoshi Mitose was in Folsom Prison, having been recognised there by George Santana. Juchnick, along with other ranked martial artists, made pilgrimages to Folsom Prison to meet him. Unfortunately, Mitose was not in the best of health. He had diabetes and problems with his eyesight.

James Masayoshi Mitose was not the isolationist figure suggested in the previous section. He talked openly about his art and had published material on it in 1953. He trained individuals such as Robert Trias and Thomas Young, entrusting them, in effect, as custodians of the system.

There is no indication here of an intention to confine the art within a single bloodline. Mitose taught across ethnic and social boundaries, and some students achieved rank through training and practice.

Two factors may explain why he appeared more isolated in the 1950s and 1960s. He may have shifted toward accepting private students, and his public visibility may have diminished. However, this does not support Barros’s assertion that he was the only person who witnessed or trained with him after the 1950s.

Bruce Juchnick claims he was granted Menkyo Kaiden and states that he possesses certification to support this.

Juchnick was already a fourth-degree black belt before he met James Mitose. He regarded these prison meetings as an opportunity for the rebirth of true Kenpo, because Mitose, being such a central figure, had so much knowledge to convey.

FOLSOM PRISON CONTEXT

It is also important to address the prison context directly.

Folsom Prison was, and is, a serious institution. Prison officers are not naive. They understand who requires strict control and who can be afforded limited respect and space. Mitose, while convicted, was not regarded as a directly violent offender in the same way as others. He was even allowed to work as a gardener for the warden.

There is no credible basis to suggest that he was freely teaching martial arts within the prison. If he had been caught teaching, it would have gone against prison rules and would have been stopped promptly. However, it is entirely reasonable that he was able to speak at length about martial arts.

In this capacity, he could guide, advise, and direct Juchnick toward other practitioners—particularly in areas such as kata and the healing aspects of the art, which he had not emphasised in earlier decades.

What I find confusing is that Juchnick learned more than one kata, obviously from other people affiliated with and suggested by Mitose. But from what I understand, Mitose in the 1940s only taught one kata.

Eugene Sedeno

Among the people who visited Juchnick was Eugene Sedeno, who got his higher ranks from Emperado. He met Mitose in Folsom Prison. He confirms that, of course, there were metal detectors checking what people brought inside. But there were no glass windows acting as a barrier to open conversation.

Sedeno gives some insight into what these meetings were like. They would meet, sit at a table, bow to each other, and then talk. Mitose had broken English, but they managed to get through the issues.

He taught Sedeno to look at the human body like an octagon. Plus, when it came to blocking a strike, his methodology was to intercept it at the start of the arc—obviously where the strike has less leverage, and not when it is already at full swing. He also taught Sedeno what lay behind a given technique.

Juchnick also provides an explanation as to why James Mitose gave up teaching, saying:

“He was not interested in teaching martial arts. At the start, he issued many warnings. One day, he said, you will understand why I walked away and closed down my school.”

Juchnick created three videos to address the controversy over the Mitose lineage, and from there we gain much information for this essay. I suppose Juchnick understood some of the headaches that led to James Mitose walking away from teaching. It is commendable that Bruce Juchnick stayed on those roads, teaching his martial art for a lifetime.

People sought Mitose and his knowledge. They even went as far as visiting him in prison so that they could hopefully learn something. Mitose reciprocated that request, perhaps wanting to prove to himself that people were still worth teaching. Juchnick had a felt sense, born of experience, of what it took to be a solid martial artist. After all, he did have a fourth dan. He constantly tells practitioners to keep their ego in check. Stay humble. Never allow knowledge, power, and ego to corrupt you. This was very much in keeping with the teachings and writings of James Mitose.

George Santana was among the people who could vouch for Bruce Juchnick visiting Mitose in Folsom Prison. Juchnick said Santana was one of the best eskrimadors around. From him, we learn that Mitose felt terrible about the crime for which he was imprisoned. Mitose’s duty, however, was still to preach humbleness and to assert that much destruction takes place without it. So he remained interested in teaching something of the goodness of his art in spite of his crime.

These visits to Folsom Prison help reveal what the art of Kosho Ryu really was. First of all, Mitose felt it should be a healing art, and so he sent Juchnick to study shiatsu. Second, it absolutely values humbleness. Third, it is not about brutality; it is about restraint.

It is worth noting that it was the excellent Eskrima martial artist George Santana who actually introduced Bruce Juchnick to James Mitose. He was able to do so because he worked as a prison guard in Folsom Prison—or rather, as a correctional officer. Another relevant person associated with Mitose at this time was Frank Montenegro, who helped James Mitose write letters from prison.

Far from being a person who gave up on Kosho Ryu, Mitose wanted Santana to help him publish a book on Kosho Ryu, but critically.

The conversations Mitose had were described as philosophical and spiritual, concerning the higher levels of the martial arts. Again, George Santana agrees that little or no martial arts was physically practised during Mitose’s time in Folsom Prison. Nor, when Santana met him, did they do any Kosho Ryu, because he could not do that and still feel that his job would not be compromised.

Critics say there was a glass barrier between them, but this claim is wholly rejected. From Santana, we gain insight into how the other wardens saw Mitose. He was not perceived as a hard criminal. He had no previous convictions, and the wardens could see that he was a good old man. He was given a good deal of special consideration.

Under Mitose’s referral, Professor Trias is the person from whom Juchnick got his katas. He describes Trias as a selfless, egoless martial artist. He was also a legitimate source of knowledge. They also got more practical information from Hassan, who studied under Mitose.

George Santana is also the correct person to ask about the originality of Kosho Ryu. Santana was a true student of the martial arts. He knew and was competent in Shotokan Karate, Kenpo Karate, and, as already mentioned, he was an excellent escrimador. So, as you may appreciate, he can offer a qualified martial arts opinion.

As far as Santana is concerned, Kosho Ryu is diametrically opposed to, and not comparable with, other systems. The proof of this only lies in the study of Kosho Ryu itself. That way, you will understand its principles, concepts, intent, and purpose. That is what he said, and that is how he judged it.

According to Santana, Bruce Juchnick is utterly dedicated to the art of Kosho Shorei Ryu. No one has sacrificed like Juchnick to keep the art alive.

Consider what he put himself through in order to gain knowledge of the art from Mitose. People did not naturally feel at home visiting Folsom Prison. It is, by nature, a hostile environment. It houses serious criminals. It was seen, as you can well imagine, as a place of violence, assaults, murders, and riots. This is not your happy place.

It could never be said lightly. It constitutes a supreme love and dedication to your art simply to visit a figure like James Masayoshi Mitose in a place like Folsom Prison in the hope that you might learn something significant about the art of Kosho Ryu. Nervousness naturally arose in going to this prison. Unsurprisingly, this dark place oozes instability.

However, Mitose was able to make his visitors feel at ease right away. They credited him for how he could calm them and make them feel at home. During and after the visit, they no longer felt the evil that was spoken of in connection with Folsom Prison.

Throughout this exposition, and in the proofs Bruce Juchnick gives in support of his case as the rightful Grandmaster and inheritor of this art, he comes across as a true gentleman, and I do not mean that lightly.

He reminds us repeatedly to leave our ego at the door, leave our ego out of the art, park the ego outside the dojo, and bring humility inside. I bow to that. Well done. Well said.

He tells us to carry ourselves properly in dress and attitude. This is what martial arts is supposed to be really about—not the tough guy with no brains. This is among the most intelligent and useful things any martial artist could tell you. Whether you are called a Hanshi or a white belt, listen to this. This is the only way we should be in life, particularly in a culture of calling other martial artists out, or the abomination of asking them to duel with you for no sane reason other than the feeble-minded need to prove superiority.

That only demonstrates a sheer lack of education about violence and its traumatogenic nature—how even the bravest among us can be ruined by its effects, both psychological and physical. The most athletic people can be rendered helpless and psychologically crippled by it. And yes, some people who call themselves martial artists have demonstrated a lack of humility and a bloodlust that is unbecoming of the art.

To answer James Mitose’s question from his 1953 book, What is Self-Defense?—self-defence is nothing other than the sacred duty of protecting one’s bodily integrity and well-being, and that is all it should be. That is all it ever should be. It is also about protecting your loved ones in perilous times, where one is in serious risk and danger.

The practice of martial arts is nothing other than a serious act. It has precious little to do with ego, as per what Bruce Juchnick said, and of course what Mitose himself would likely have echoed.

History of Kosho Shorei Ryu

Remember that at the start of this essay we met Thomas Barros Mitose, who claims to be the Grandmaster of Kosho Ryu, yet appeared uncertain about its history. I will now present one version of that history. Whether it is true or false remains open to question, but it is worth examining on its own terms.

According to Bruce Juchnick, Kosho Ryu was founded by Elson in 1235 AD. Elson is said to have revised a sect of Buddhism, and from a disagreement over how enlightenment was to be attained, a system of actual warfare emerged. His art was intended as a study of the natural laws governing the mind, movement, and the spirit of man.

Kosho Ryu developed around core principles. One of these is awareness of self in relation to the environment. Movement is central to the system and must remain natural. In Kosho Ryu, position is considered more important than any fixed stance.

Mitose himself wrote something particularly striking:

“If a man comes to you to be a coward, teach him to be a good coward first. Therefore, he is no longer a coward. If he comes to you because he is afraid of conflict, teach him how to run with dignity.”

Kosho Ryu literally translates as “Pine Tree Style.” Its earliest teachings are said to have been studied in Kumamoto, Kyushu, Japan. A key figure in its development, Kosho Ryu Pasasa, was regarded as exceptionally gifted. He studied Buddhism at Yakushi. At the age of twenty-one, he climbed Mount Akar, where he rebuilt a structure and renamed it after a Buddhist deity.

It is said that Emperor Kammu fell ill, and that Pasasa aided in his recovery. In recognition, the Emperor granted him a title of high mastery—an honour rarely given to someone of lower status—and also awarded him land, including rice fields.

Later, warrior monks came to be seen as a threat to the political authority of Koishi Yukanga, the daimyo of Kaiku, around 1588. In a conflict involving Soha Ken, they were defeated by an overwhelming force of samurai. Koimash, the daimyo of a nearby castle, and the Buddhist Konishu—who had converted to Christianity—defied the samurai code by refusing to commit seppuku and instead allowed himself to be captured.

Kotathiro later rebuilt a temple, and Kosho Ryu is said to have continued through the next twenty-one generations.

What the Art Teaches

Now that we have covered the history of Kosho Ryu, it is time to turn to the teachings that Mitose would have conveyed to Bruce Juchnick.

What appears to be central in Kosho Ryu is hyōshi (timing) and ma-ai (distancing). These concepts govern when to move, how to position oneself, and how to act with correct timing. It is not simply movement that matters, but movement at the right moment.

Kosho Ryu is concerned with:

when to move

how to position oneself

how to establish proper stance

how to move in harmony with timing

At its core, it discourages fixation on flashy techniques, sleight of hand, or elaborate movement. Instead, the emphasis is placed on understanding the principles behind the technique.

Another key idea within Kosho Ryu is escape.

It is, in many ways, an escaping art—one that focuses on how to evade, reposition, and only then, if necessary, counter. A central principle here is simple but profound:

The body follows the head.

This serves as both a physical and conceptual guide. Where the head goes, the body will follow—so direction, awareness, and intent must lead movement.

When blocking and moving off-line, even a slight shift in position can be sufficient to remove oneself from danger. The goal is not force against force, but intelligent repositioning.

There is also a deeper layer to this teaching.

If the ego is removed, the correct physical action often presents itself naturally. When the ego dominates, perception becomes clouded. One begins to chase techniques rather than respond to reality.

Kosho Ryu, in this sense, is not just about movement—it is about seeing clearly.

And to see clearly, one must first learn to set the ego aside.

Eugene Sedeno also visited Mitose in prison. He believed deeply that the art should survive, and Mitose shared that concern. During their meetings, Mitose spoke to Sedeno about the history of Kenpo and the importance of preserving its principles.

Their interactions were marked by humility. When they met, they bowed to one another. Mitose was concerned not only with how his art would be physically taught, but also with how it would be transmitted spiritually.

Sedeno described Mitose as a deeply spiritual man—one who did not dwell on his imprisonment. Despite his circumstances, he did not appear preoccupied with himself. Instead, his focus remained on the art and its future.

One of Mitose’s core aims was to make students more knowledgeable. He seemed to recognise that he had caused harm in his life, and believed he could, in some measure, give back to society by passing on the knowledge of Kosho Ryu.

He emphasised continuous learning:

The moment you stop learning, you begin to die.

He also warned against division. Creativity, he suggested, is not something to suppress, but something to cultivate.

From this, a broader understanding emerges: compassion is not separate from martial arts—it is fully compatible with it.

Martial arts, in this view, is not a destination but a lifelong journey.

There are martial artists who consider it absurd to suggest that Bruce Juchnick could have created his own system and simply attributed it to Mitose. Yet these are precisely the kinds of criticisms Juchnick had to face.

Mitose taught not only physical techniques, but also spiritual concepts. His system addressed the body, movement, attack, and responses to it—such as folding principles and methods of redirection. It represented a complete way of understanding motion and how the human body functions within it.

Importantly, Mitose never claimed this was his own creation. He consistently described it as a temple art, something passed down rather than invented.

In this context, Juchnick’s role becomes clearer: his mission was to preserve and spread Kosho Ryu.

For example, the Kitose Mikido form—given to Juchnick by Mitose—would be extremely difficult to fabricate convincingly. It reflects structure, depth, and internal consistency. More importantly, practitioners observed a visible transformation in Juchnick after his time with Mitose.

Despite this, criticism of anything associated with Mitose became fashionable.

Mitose repeatedly emphasised one core principle:

Free yourself from ego if you wish to learn.

He returned to this idea again and again.

He also rejected the notion that martial ability declines with age. Unlike boxing, where one may pass a physical peak, Mitose believed that in his art:

You improve as you grow older.

The Octagon Concept and Natural Motion

A key philosophical and structural idea within Kosho Ryu is the octagon concept.

The octagon is used to understand both the body and movement. When an opponent attacks, their centre shifts. As the defender, you must adjust to that shift.

Kosho Ryu is fundamentally about natural motion—moving in accordance with how the body is designed to move.

When striking, the intention is not superficial contact, but deep disruption:

disrupting the opponent’s structure

disrupting their movement pattern

disrupting the system that supports their action

The goal is often to strike through the centre.

Within the octagon framework:

the head occupies the top

the shoulders form the sides

Understanding this structure allows for more intelligent interaction with an opponent.

A central rule is:

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

This principle applies both to oneself and to the opponent.

To apply it effectively, you must study how your opponent moves. Your aim is to go off-centre, causing their attack—such as a punch—to lose direction and coherence.

Rather than meeting force directly, you:

move to the side

match their rotation

align your movement with theirs

This creates imbalance and opens opportunity.

Teaching and Adaptation

Mitose held a refined view of teaching.

He believed an instructor should act like a physician:

diagnosing the student

adapting to their needs

guiding their development accordingly

He also emphasised the importance of language—teachers must communicate in a way the student can understand.

Symbolism and Natural Law

Kosho Ryu also expresses itself through symbolic ideas tied to the body:

Pine → the spine

Bamboo → the midsection

Ribcage → structure and protection

Palm → connection and expression

These are not decorative metaphors. They reflect an attempt to describe the natural laws of movement through the human body.

From a rooted position, all energy is generated from the ground.

George Santana’s meetings with Mitose helped bring these principles into clearer focus. Through them, the art was understood not as a collection of techniques, but as a system grounded in anatomy and natural law.

The Lifelong Path

Ultimately, Kosho Ryu places responsibility on the student.

You are not merely taught—you must go beyond what is shown.

You are the one who must come to understand yourself.

The art demands continuous study throughout life.

In doing so, it develops:

self-awareness

humility

growth

This ongoing process is not incidental—it is the essence of Kosho Ryu.

What emerges from Folsom Prison is not a clear lineage, but something far more complex: a man who had withdrawn from teaching, yet could not fully abandon his art; a system spoken more than shown; and a legacy shaped as much by interpretation as by transmission.

In that vacuum, authority did not pass cleanly—it fragmented.”

References

James Mitose – Martial Arts Radio, Episode 143

Silver Anniversary Edition (1981), What is True Self-Defense?

“James Mitose Conman or Genius” (2025), Social Gelo

“James Mitose Legendary Heir to the Grand Master or Grand Fraudster” (2026), Abram Rusady

“The Legacy of James Mitose: The True Story of Kosho Ryu,” Dr Brian Garrett, Sports Kinesiology

Juchnick, B. (2021), “James M. Mitose Controversy,” YouTube channel

“Hanshi Bruce Juchnik and Sei Kosho Kai International,” Coffee and Martial Arts