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His exploits are legendary. It is said that he once entered the headquarters of a robber chief, sat down and simply glared at the chief until he bowed, apologized and handed the loot to Toyama, who returned it to the owners. He made a fortune by borrowing huge sums and then paid his debts by selling coal mines he had acquired by political wangling—all to prove how easy it was to acquire riches. He then retired to poverty and his small wooden house.
Stalling of the war in China gave Toyama and his henchmen a chance for a comeback. They indirectly allied themselves with Premier Prince Fumimaro Konoye's drive to abolish political parties and set up a totalitarian State. By last week their operations had become considerably more open.
In the first place, they had got Colonel Kingoro Hashimoto, a violent superpatriot (TIME, Dec. 2), appointed chief of the Imperial Rule Assistance Association, Prince Konoye's central directing agency concerned with streamlining the Government. Fortnight ago Baron Kiichiro Hiranuma, former premier, a leader of the secret National Foundation Society, who has long been called Japan's foremost Fascist, was named Home Minister, in charge of police, secret service, censorship.
A prominent member of the Gestapo was last week on his way to advise the Baron.
A retired general, Heisuke Yanagawa, was made Justice Minister, a post hitherto held by trained jurists. Domei news agency, which is seldom wrong about Japanese politics, last week predicted that General Baron Sadao Araki, one of Japan's most notorious firebrands, would soon be given a Cabinet post.
But the event which must have given Mitsuru Toyama greatest satisfaction of all last week was the convocation of the Diet. Parliamentary forms have always been the cardinal anathema to the secret societies. Last week's convocation indicated that the forms were very nearly dead. In the pompous Diet building in Tokyo, Emperor Hirohito made a one-minute speech to the members, who were as stray and divided as sheep. They had dissolved their political parties and their lobbying machines. They had no aims, no organization, no hope. Their first and only act was to adjourn until January 20. Then, in a mockery of the days when they could at least pretend to steer laws, some of them banded together in a Diet Members' Club, to "direct proceedings." With this they were vastly satisfied—until they found that the man who organized the club was an agent of the Imperial Rule Assistance Association, which is run by Colonel Hashimoto, who is run by the secret societies, which are still run by the ancient toad of Kyushu.