Guidelines for Use

Researchers are welcome to utilize short excerpts from any of the transcriptions without obtaining permission as long as proper credit is given to the interviewee, interviewer and the Japanese American National Museum. Scholars must however, obtain permission from the Japanese American National Museum or the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society before making more extensive use of the transcription and related materials. None of these materials may be duplicated or reproduced by any party without permission from the Japanese American National Museum or the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society.

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Director's Foreword

Japanese American National Musuem

The Japanese American National Museum is honored to present this publication of the REgenerations Oral History Project: Rebuilding Japanese American Families, Communities, and Civil Rights in the Resettlement Era. This extensive collection of oral history interviews offers insight into the often-overlooked period within Japanese American history known as resettlement. By documenting the ordinary, yet extraordinary lives of these 42 individuals, REgenerations seeks to challenge the assumption that Japanese Americans merely returned to normal lives after World War II. Recorded on videotape and transcribed for publication, these interviews document the struggles and triumphs of Japanese Americans as they rebuilt their lives after the exclusion and incarceration experience of World War II.

Since opening to the public in 1992, the National Museum has forged partnerships with regional organizations and local communities to promote the participation of community in the collection and interpretation of their own history. This unique collaboration with the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society (CJAHS), the Japanese American Historical Society of San Diego (JAHSSD), and the Japanese American Resource Center/Museum (JARC/M) in San Jose was created on this philosophy. By combining together our expertise, resources, knowledge and enthusiasm, we developed a process and a product that serves as a regional and national model for future community oral history projects.

We thank our partners for their dedication and hard work. Through the process of mutual exchange, we accomplished so much more as a team than each of us could have on our own. This publication is an important outcome of the project, but perhaps more importantly, the long-term impact of REgenerations demonstrates the success of partnerships and the sustained regional efforts in each city to document the resettlement era.

The Japanese American National Museum acknowledges the support of the Civil Liberties Publication Education Fund, established by Congress to support research and educational activities that examine the impact of the exclusion, forced removal and incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II. A special thanks to Darcie Iki, REgenerations Project Director, for her leadership and dedication to this partnership.

Most importantly, the Japanese American National Museum thanks those who graciously shared their stories with us. Their voices tell the story of a few, but their experiences represent the lives of many. The REgenerations Oral History Project will be an important resource for scholars and students as they continue to push the boundaries of new scholarship in Japanese American history.

Partner's Foreword

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Japanese American National Museum

The Japanese American National Museum is proud to be a part of the REgenerations Oral History Project: Rebuilding Japanese American Families, Communities, and Civil Rights in the Resettlement Era. It has been a privilege to work with our partnering organizations, the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society, the Japanese American Historical Society of San Diego, and the Japanese American Resource Center/Museum on this endeavor. Through this community-based collaboration, we accomplished our common goal to study the rebuilding of community in the postwar era, and in the process we were able to build community in the present across generational and geographic boundaries. Thank you to the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund for making this type of partnership possible.

First and foremost, we would like to thank our narrators—Harry Honda, Rose Honda, Haruko (Sugi) Hurt, Kaz Inouye, Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka, Katsumi (Hiraoka) Kunitsugu, Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka, Esther (Takei) Nishio, Sakaye Shigekawa, Reverend Art Takemoto, Togo Tanaka—for their participation in this project. Their stories shed light on this important period in history and contribute to a more in-depth look at the long-term impact of the exclusion and incarceration on the Nikkei community. They also remind us of the fact that there are so many stories that are yet to be told. We hope these interviews invigorate more scholarship and study on the resettlement era.

We would also like to thank our community advisors who assisted us in identifying narrators for this project—no small task considering we could only select a handful of individuals to represent the Los Angeles resettlement experience. Thank you to Iku Kiriyama, Harry Honda, Hiro Hishiki, Kats Kunitsugu, and Hitoshi Sameshima, for your guidance and support.

To the Los Angeles project team—Karen Yonemoto, Valerie Matsumoto, Arthur Hansen, James Gatewood, Leslie Ito, Erica Lee, Steve Wong, Alison Kochiyama, Sojin Kim and Cynthia Togami—thank you for your dedication and hard work. Your contributions to the project were invaluable.

The REgenerations Oral History Project publication builds upon past scholarship on resettlement, but we have only scratched the surface. The Japanese American National Museum is committed to research on this important historical time period and we hope that the

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work of the REgenerations team will spark similar community-based projects in other Nikkei communities.

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Preface

Japanese American National Musuem

The REgenerations Oral History Project: Rebuilding Japanese American Families, Communities and Civil Rights in the Resettlement Era was initiated in 1997 by the Japanese American National Museum and funded in part by the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund. Inspired by a commitment to document Japanese American history beyond the incarceration experience, this collaborative community-based oral history project explores the postwar era and the struggle of Japanese Americans to rebuild their lives after World War II. Though the end of war brought freedom from the confines of America's concentration camps, Japanese Americans returned to the same prejudice and discrimination they had left in 1942. Naturalization laws, alien lands laws, anti-miscegenation laws, housing restrictions, and immigration laws continued to exclude Japanese Americans from taking their rightful place in American society. Despite these institutional and social barriers, Japanese Americans fought to overcome these challenges and rebuild what they had lost during the war. Focusing on the period between 1942-1965, REgenerations documents the often-neglected history of Japanese American resettlement by focusing on four Nikkei communities in the United States: Chicago, Los Angeles, San Diego and San Jose.

The Partnership

The National Museum's programs are always driven by a philosophy that encourages collaboration and community involvement. The Regenerations Oral History Project was no exception. In 1996, the National Museum identified three partnering organizations to participate in the collaboration-the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society, the Japanese American Historical Society of San Diego, and the Japanese American Resource Center/Museum in San Jose. These organizations were involved in on-going documentation efforts at the local level and were identified as key partners that would be essential to the community-based

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approach of the project. Together, the four partners set out to achieve three main goals: (1) to collect life history interviews focusing on the resettlement experience in order to further our understanding of Japanese American history; (2) to develop a model for community-based oral history projects that engaged members of the community in the preservation, documentation and interpretation of their local history and culture; and (3) to develop partnerships that serve as a catalyst for revitalizing a sense of community through the exchange and sharing of life histories.

Together, we worked to recruit four regional teams, which included a coordinator, a scholar, interviewers, videographers, and transcriptionists. The interviewers were selected based on their breadth of knowledge in Japanese American history, experience in oral history interviewing, and their ability to work closely with the Japanese American community. Local scholars were identified within each region to play an integral role in shaping the research design of the project and to assist in implementing the oral history training seminars. The videographers and the transcriptionists were selected for their technical knowledge. Led by the coordinators, the regional teams met regularly throughout the course of the project. The project leadership from each region participated in planning meetings, mid-year evaluations of the process, including a critique of the interviews, and a follow-up training session in Los Angeles.

By trusting in the valuable expertise and knowledge of all participants, we established an opportunity for exchange. Through this collaborative process, REgenerations helped to establish important institutional partnerships and promote community development by connecting individuals with the past and rejuvenating a sense of community in the present. This joint exploration brought together a diverse group of people, including the Nisei and Sansei/Yonsei generations, scholars and community members, and individuals and organizations-strengthening the bonds between us and bringing to each a renewed respect for each other, and new understanding of history and its impact on individual lives.

The Publication

After two years of intensive work, the project has collected and preserved 42 interviews, equaling over 100 hours of audio/videotaped interviews and over 2,000 pages of primary resource materials. This rich collection of first-person accounts offers insight into the hardship Japanese Americans faced, often illustrating that reentry into mainstream life was in many cases a more traumatic experience than

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the initial uprooting. The interviews are generally two to four hours long, with the most extensive interview running nine hours. While the interviews focus on the resettlement era, they also present the interviewees' lives before and during the war. This broader portrait of their lives was important to establish a better understanding of the effect the wartime exclusion and incarceration experience on their lives.

This publication consists of four volumes, each volume dedicated to a particular region-Chicago, Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Jose. Each volume contains an overview essay on resettlement by Arthur A. Hansen of California State University, Fullerton. In addition, each volume contains an essay that offers unique insight into the specific historical experiences of each region. The regional scholars who contributed these essays are Susan S. Hasegawa (San Diego), Valerie Matsumoto (Los Angeles), Alice Murata (Chicago), and Alex Yamato (San Jose). The essays provide important historical and methodological contexts for the full interview transcripts that follow. Biographical summaries and photographs of each interviewee precede their respective interviews. A subject index (a separate index per volume) is provided for readers to help navigate through the interview transcripts.

The oral history transcripts presented here are near-verbatim versions of the actual interviews. As much as possible, the interviewees' speech patterns and word choices have been preserved to reflect their individuality. However, some editorial changes have been made in an attempt to clarify and contextualize the meaning of some responses. In addition, although euphemisms, such as evacuation, relocation centers, or assembly centers, remain in the interview text, the Japanese American National Museum uses the terms forced removal, concentration camps, and detention centers to convey the institution's stylistic standards in defining the Japanese American historical experience.

The Process

The project participants were required to participate in a five-day oral history training seminar held in June 1997, in Los Angeles. This seminar provided training in oral history interviewing, videography, transcription, and included hands-on practice exercises, critical viewing of sample interviews, and lectures on Japanese American history. All the project participants who attended this seminar also received written critiques of their interviews and additional training throughout the project. Each partnering

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organization also hosted community forums where members of the community were asked to identify important themes they considered relevant to their regional history and to help in identifying potential interviewees. These forums were designed to strengthen the relationships between community members and local community organizations, further enhancing community development by offering them hands-on ways to get involved in the interpretation of their own history.

Each region selected the interviewees with consideration for their ability and willingness to participate in the project and their knowledge of resettlement activities. An effort was made to interview a diverse group of individuals representing various geographic, generational, gender, and experiential segments of the community. All interviewees were required to sign legal release forms that authorize the National Museum to preserve and present their stories to the public.

Once the interview sessions were completed, the interviews went through an extensive process of transcription and editing. Each regional organization transcribed and edited their respective interviews. This time-consuming process included the following stages: (1) a first draft of the transcript; (2) an audit-edit during which the transcriber listens to the interview while reading the first draft to check for errors in transcription; (3) editing the transcript, which includes fact-checking, footnoting, and minor grammatical editing. The transcripts were then sent back to the interviewee in order to give them the opportunity to make corrections to their interviews. These changes were incorporated into the transcript and then sent to Los Angeles to be prepared for this publication. The transcripts were reformatted and reedited by the National Museum's Life History Department in an effort to bring overall consistency to the project. The Museum has made some editorial changes; however, some inconsistency remains from region to region for the purpose of maintaining the integrity of the interview, as well as the editorial work of each regional team.

The original videos and transcripts are housed at the Japanese American National Museum and are accessible to the public through the National Museum's Hirasaki National Resource Center. Each partnering organization retained a duplicate set of videos and a set of transcripts that are housed in their respective institutions. Additional volumes have been distributed to major libraries across the country. The Japanese American National Museum and each respective regional organization possess joint ownership of the oral history collection.

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Success and Impact

The success of the REgenerations Oral History Project, as evidenced by the completion of this publication, must also be measured by the impact the project has made on each partnering institution, and the communities they serve. REgenerations has not only sparked dialogue and discussion within the community about the resettlement period, but has inspired communities to document their regional histories within a national context of Japanese American history. Moreover, each partnering organization has continued its efforts beyond the life of REgenerations, and have incorporated the resettlement story into their preservation and public programming efforts.

In 1998, the Japanese American National Museum presented Coming Home: Memories of Japanese American Resettlement, 1945-65, an exhibition that highlighted artifacts from the National Museum's permanent collection related to the resettlement experience. In addition, this project has heightened the National Museum's awareness of the lack of resources available on resettlement, thus invigorating a more concerted effort to collect artifacts and oral histories that focus on the postwar years. The Japanese American Resource Center/Museum received a California Civil Liberties Public Education Fund grant for a project that supported the collection of photographs related to resettlement. They have also developed a web page dedicated to the REgenerations interviews (www.jarcm.org), and will host an exhibition on resettlement entitled, "Completing the Story: A Community Remembers." The Japanese American Historical Society of San Diego produced "Democracy Under Pressure: Japanese Americans and World War II," a video documentary that utilized the research from REgenerations as a springboard to tell the story of San Diego's Japanese American community. Members of the Chicago team are continuing their research into the postwar history of Chicago's Japanese American community.

This final publication is the culmination of three-years of extensive work that will contribute to the current research on resettlement and expand the parameters of Japanese American history. These interviews will serve as an important resource of primary research materials to be utilized by many scholars and students to come. But it is only the beginning and should be viewed as one small step on a long path ahead. If we are truly to understand Japanese American history in all its

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complexities, it is critical that we continue to uncover the national story about the dispersion and forced migration of an ethnic community forced to rebuild their families, communities and civil rights in the postwar years.

Acknowledgments

This project could not have been possible without the dedication of an incredible team of individuals who participated in this collaboration. First, I would like to thank all of the interviewees who graciously agreed to share their memories with us. By recognizing the value of recording their experiences for future generations of scholars and students, they have provided us with a window to look into the past. I would like to thank our partnering institutions-the Chicago Japanese American Historical Society, the Japanese American Historical Society of San Diego, and the Japanese American Resource Center/Museum-and their respective directors, Yoji Ozaki, Jean Mishima, Ben Segawa, and Aggie Idemoto. Their leadership and commitment to this partnership was crucial to the success of this project. Many thanks to consultants, Brian Niiya, Arthur A. Hansen, and Valerie Matsumoto for their valuable insights and assistance in conceptualizing the scope of the project, and in particular to Brian Niiya for aptly naming the project, "REgenerations." Each regional team's activities were led by the regional coordinators and regional scholars. The regional coordinators, Mary L. Doi, Susan S. Hasegawa, Melina Takahashi, and Karen Yonemoto did an outstanding job managing the details of the project in their respective regions. They organized the planning of community forums and public events, coordinated meetings and interview schedules, oversaw the transcription process, and served as liaisons to the National Museum. Their incredible dedication and persistence was invaluable. Regional scholars, Don Estes, Arthur A. Hansen, Valerie Matsumoto, Alice Murata, and Alex Yamato, provided historical expertise and critical analysis to the project. Their essay contributions provide an historical context to the interview transcripts and are a significant addition to this publication. Art Hansen acted as project advisor, offering resources, critiquing interviews from each region, and providing advice to each region as they negotiated the intricacies of oral history interviewing. Thank you also to scholars Lane Hirabayashi, Setsuko Matsunaga Nishi, and Kariann Yokota who provided resources and valuable insights into the topic. I'd also like to acknowledge the hard work of the interviewers, videographers, and transcriptionists who all played a tremendous role as the creators

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of the interviews, whether out in the field and/or behind the camera. (For complete listing of participants see: Project Team & Project Interviewees). Additionally, I'd like to thank Kathy Frazee and the staff at California State University, Fullerton's Oral History Program for indexing all of the interview transcripts and to Tom Underhill of Shumway Publishing for all of his efforts to make this publication special.

There were also many staff members of the Japanese American National Museum who contributed to the success of the project. Thank you to Akemi Kikumura, Claudia Sobral, and Clement Hanami, whose previous collaborative efforts set the model for this community-based partnership. Thank you to Brian Niiya, Jim Hirabayashi, and Lloyd Inui for their valuable critiques and insights, Cynthia Togami, Life History Collections Coordinator, meticulously edited this four-volume collection, Sojin Kim, Life History Collections Coordinator, who also lent her expertise to the editing process, Karen Yonemoto, Life History Coordinator, who organized the Los Angeles team and also assisted with much of the coordination for the overall project. Additional thanks to Carla Tengan, Life History Assistant and Scott Akasaki, intern, assisted on the project, Bob Nakamura, Justin Lin, and John Esaki, of the Media Arts Center provided training and consultation for the videographers, Clement Hanami and Tami Kaneshiro provided all the graphic design needs, and Grace Murakami and Nikki Chang provided assistance in collections. Cheryl Kaino provided assistance with the grant, Chris Komai provided PR/Marketing needs, and Sara Iwahashi assisted with the publication process. Finally, thank you to Irene Hirano, Nancy Araki, and Karin Higa for their valuable insights and assistance throughout the project.

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Project Teams and Project Interviewees

Chicago Project Team

Chicago Project Team
• Mary Doi, Ph.D., Regional Coordinator/Interviewer
• Alice Murata, Ph.D., Regional Scholar/Interviewer
• Yoji Ozaki, Regional Advisor
• Sandra Yamate, Esq., Interviewer
• Pat Amino, Transcriber
• Sharon Harada, Transcriber
• Kay Toriumi, Transcriber
• Nobu Kuroishi, Videographer
• Kenichi Tokita, Videographer
• Bebe Baxter, George Dean, Neal Swire, graduate assistants

Chicago Interviewees

Chicago Interviewees
• Pat Aiko (Suzuki) Amino
• Dr. Ben Tsutomu Chikaraishi
• Kiyoko (Kasai) Fujiu
• Masaru Funai, Esq.
• Noboru Honda
• Hiroshi Kaneko
• Kay (Hayashi) Kuwahara
• Hiroshi Mayeda
• Thomas Teraji
• Shigeo Wakamatsu

San Jose Project Team

San Jose Project Team
• Aggie Idemoto, Ed.D., Regional Coordinator/Advisor/Interviewer
• Melina Takahashi, Regional Coordinator/Transcriber
• Alex Yamato, Ph.D., Regional Scholar/Interviewer
• Karen Matsuoka, Interviewer/Transcriber
• Joe Yasutake, Ph.D., Interviewer
• Barbara Uchiyama, Interviewer
• Wendy Ng, Ph.D., Transcriber/Interviewer
• Huu-Quyen Ngo, Videographer

San Jose Interviewers

San Jose Interviewers
• Masayo (Yasui) Arii
• Katie (Koga) Hironaka
• Hatsu (Matsumoto) Kanemoto
• Akira Jackson Kato
• Aiko (Kato) Kitaji
• Paul S. Sakamoto, Ph.D.
• Eiichi Edward Sakauye
• Yoshihiro Uchida
• Harry Yoshio Ueno
• Roy T, Uyehata
• Tetsuko (Okida) Zaima

Los Angeles Project Team

Los Angeles Project Team
• Darcie Iki, Project Director/Interviewer
• Karen Yonemoto, Regional/National Coordinator
• Cynthia Togami, Editor/Interviewer
• Arthur Hansen, Ph.D., Regional Scholar
• Valerie Matsumoto, Ph.D., Regional Scholar
• James Gatewood, Interviewer
• Leslie Ito, Interviewer
• Alison Kochiyama, Transcriber
• Erica Lee, Videographer
• Steven Wong, Videographer

Los Angeles Interviewers

Los Angeles Interviewers
• Harry K. Honda
• Rose Honda
• Haruko (Sugi) Hurt
• Kazuo Inouye
• Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka
• Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu
• Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka
• Esther (Takei) Nishio
• Dr. Sakaye Shigekawa
• Reverend Art Takemoto
• Togo Tanaka

San Diego Project Team

San Diego Project Team
• Susan Hasegawa, Regional Coordinator/Scholar/Interviewer
• Don Estes, Regional Scholar
• Ben Segawa, Regional Advisor
• Joseph Kim, Interviewer
• Debra Kodama, Interviewer
• Joyce Teague, Interviewer
• Carol Estes, Transcriber
• Leng Loh, Videographer

San Diego Interviewees

San Diego Interviewees
• Kay (Torio) Fukamizu
• Masaaki Hironaka
• Masami Honda
• M. Lloyd Ito
• Umeko (Mamiya) Kawamoto
• Hisako (Inamura) Koike
• Ruth (Takahashi) Voorhies
• James M. Yamate
• Dorothy (Okura) Yonemitsu
• Joe Yoshioka

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Resettlement: A Neglected Link in Japanese America's Narrative Chain

By Arthur A. Hansen

In March 1983 a remarkable conference, "Relocation to Redress: The Japanese American Experience," was held in Salt Lake City, Utah. It was staged just after the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians, an official body of the U.S. Congress, had issued its long-awaited report, Personal Justice Denied 1982).

The meeting brought together academics, many of Japanese ancestry, and lay people, mostly Nikkei. onto the spectacularly beautiful University of Utah campus.

With the snow-capped Wasatch Mountains as their backdrop, conferees interacted at lectures, panels, readings, films, and a field trip to the site of the former War Relocation Authority (WRA)-administered Topaz Relocation Center concentration camp. Primarily, the conference explored topics and themes of the World War II eviction and detention experience of Japanese Americans, though secondary attention was paid to the contemporary redress movement. In 1986, three of the conference's moving spirits-Roger Daniels, Sandra Taylor, and Harry Kitano-edited the proceedings into an anthology, Japanese Americans: From Relocation to Redress.

Viewed in hindsight, a conspicuously absent ingredient in both the Utah conference and correlated publication on "relocation" and "redress" (and, for that matter, even in Personal Justice Denied. was any substantial treatment of an intervening historical phenomenon designated by yet another "r" word: resettlement. Moreover, but for a few notable exceptions, the resettlement experience of Japanese Americans has been relegated to the margins of scholarly literature and popular memory, not only outside, but also within Japanese America.

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This neglect of the resettlement era, which sociologist Tetsuden Kashima as far back as 1980 labeled "social amnesia,"

has not been salutary. In the mainstream American public (including the general academic community) it has fostered the false understanding that, notwithstanding their wartime exclusion and incarceration, Japanese Americans metamorphosed almost instantly after World War II into what the U.S. media by the early 1960s was marketing as this country's "model minority." Such a wrong-headed perception is consonant with the consoling American myth that our nation's most undemocratic deeds and uncivil behavior inevitably result in egalitarian progress. However, this outlook simultaneously cleanses the "relocation" of its status as a bone fide social disaster, replete with long-lasting dislocations and repercussions, and reduces the painstaking rebuilding role by Nikkei individuals, families, groups, and communities during the postwar years to a puzzling miracle of race, ethnicity, and culture.

As for the comparative neglect by Japanese Americans of "resettlement," this also has been costly. Having at last confronted one traumatic chapter of its collective past, "relocation," through the protracted process of "redress," the community has tended, understandably enough, to curtail its rendezvous with its own recent history. Furthermore, the silence, repression, and accommodation that formerly characterized the community's response to its wartime "rape" have been replicated in its reaction to the period "after camp." Since racism continued to menace Nikkei on a variety of fronts during this interval between "relocation" and "redress," the community's quest for therapy through history will elude it until the era of "resettlement" is revisited and engaged with renewed vigor and rigor.

Setting aside for now the question of whether "resettlement" is suitably precise and/or proper terminology, what can be profiled is what the term has come to denote. Chronologically, resettlement typically is seen as spanning the 1942-1955 years. Brian Niiya relates in his introduction to Nanka Nikkei Voices: Resettlement Years 1945-1955

that resettlement had its roots in May 1942. It was then that church leaders, educators, and other "friends" of the Japanese Americans formed an organization that assisted 4,000 Nisei students to exchange their wartime concentration camp homes for 600 college campuses located within unrestricted areas of the country.

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But as the "resettlement" entries in Japanese American History: An A to Z Reference from 1868 to the Present, edited by Niiya notes, this term commonly describes the March 1942 "voluntary migration" of roughly 5,000 Nikkei from the forbidden coastal defense area eastward.

Because Colorado was the most hospitable of the intermountain states to resettlers, that state, and particularly the Denver area, was their primary destination, with Utah second in popularity.

These two resettlement areas supported fairly ample prewar Nikkei communities and, in tandem, published three vernacular newspapers with English-language sections (in Denver the Colorado Times and the Rocky Nippon/Shimpo, and in Salt Lake City the Utah Nippo). Still another newspaper, the Japanese American Citizens League's exclusively English-language Pacific Citizen, was added when the JACL "resettled" its operation from San Francisco to Salt Lake City in spring 1942. As the sole mainland Japanese American papers, apart from camp ones, the "resettlement press" experienced swollen readerships and exerted far more influence than before the war.

Once "voluntary" resettlement ended on March 27, 1942, and the enforced removal of Nikkei from the military defense areas to the assembly and relocation centers had materialized, the stage was set for a new resettlement phase in 1942. By summer, even before the teremotely located WRA concentration camps had received all of their designated wards, several hundred behind barbed wire were permitted "work release furloughs" in nearby states like Colorado, Utah, Idaho, and Montana. Owing to an acute shortage of agricultural workers, "furlough resettlers" were enlisted for short intervals to harvest endangered crops, mainly sugar beets, deemed vital to the military and home fronts.

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At the same time, the WRA developed machinery for what Director Dillon Myer confidently hoped by year's end would be the "permanent resettlement" in mostly eastern and midwestern states of 75,000 of the approximately 120,000 imprisoned Nikkei in his agency's custody. But if a way had been paved for Japanese Americans to ease labor shortages while becoming "more Americanized" through blending in among resident populations largely unfamiliar with and less prejudiced against people of Japanese ancestry than their West Coast counterparts, Nikkei lacked the will to resettle. The leave process was convoluted, the leaders of targeted areas often recalcitrant in their resistance, and there was too much uncertainty and presumed hostility in the world outside the camps for internees to risk the resettlement plunge. When 1942 turned to 1943, less than 900 had forsaken their incarcerated families and community for the "freedom" of permanent resettlement.

As of late summer 1943, an additional 10,000 detained Nikkei had resettled. This development reflected the resettlement policy's liberalization and systematization. Some of the pernicious bureaucratic and chauvinistic barriers that had deterred the resettlement flow in 1942 now were lowered or dismantled. To smooth the resettlement path, the WRA sent recruitment teams to all camps, promoted success stories, extended token financial assistance, and encouraged the creation of low-cost transitional housing. The WRA also established a nationwide network of field offices, which were augmented by volunteer groups of humanitarian-minded local citizens and the "helping professions."

Then, too, by 1943 camp life began to weigh heavily on certain inmates, such as those who were disfavored and often imperiled for taking the stand they did in February on an ill-conceived army and WRA "loyalty" questionnaire to determine eligibility for military service and resettlement. If the loyalty registration and the crisis it precipitated were responsible for some resettlement activity, the net effect was to retard both the rate and the overall quantity of resettlement that surely would have occurred otherwise. In actuality, the brand of "resettlement" that did eventuate involved "resettling" about 13,000 inmates. Whereas 6,800 "disloyals" were "resettled" by the WRA from nine of its camps to the remaining one at Tule Lake, which was converted into a segregation center, the WRA "resettled" 6,200 "loyals" from Tule Lake to the other camps.

The nearly two-year period bridging the 1943 registration crisis and the opening of the West Coast to resettlement on January 2, 1945, witnessed a concerted WRA push toward getting people out of the concentration camps and into mainstream communities. Even before 1943 ended, resettlers lived in 25 states and the District of Columbia. There they filled jobs as pharmacists, teachers, engineers, mechanics,

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farmers, hotel workers, nurse's aides, domestics, waitresses, and many other lines of work. During 1944, resettlement fanned out to embrace many more states and occupations, including those in defense. For resettlers, this year also brought about greater acceptance by, and assimilation into, the communities they entered, more adequate housing and better living arrangements, and enhanced self-esteem and contentment.

Still, resistance to resettlement outweighed receptivity to it. By the end of 1944, only 35,000 inmates (one-third of the initial camp population) had become resettlers. Put bluntly, the resettlement policy was a bust. It was largely a Nisei (disproportionately single, educated, and male) affair, with just one-sixth of the Issei population opting to reenter the outside world. The deterrents to Nisei resettlement-economic hardship, employment and housing difficulties, fear of anti-Japanese discrimination, anxiety about family separation, communication problems, the desire to help out the camp community and then return to the West Coast-applied in redoubled measure to Issei. It is essentially fair, however simplistic, to say of resettlement that it was strongly embraced by the WRA, viewed as generally positive by Nisei, and largely opposed by the Issei and Kibei-Nisei.

Nor, as a rule, did resettlers honor the arguably well-intentioned but utterly impractical WRA mandate that, upon leaving their respective concentration camp, they spurn communal living and "scatter" as individuals or family groups across the American landscape. As with the first wave of "American-made refugees" to Denver and Salt Lake City, identifiable Nikkei communities (if not full-blown Little Tokyos) mushroomed in second-wave resettlement meccas of the Midwest like Chicago (the "resettlement capital," with an estimated wartime population of some 20,000), Cleveland, St. Paul-Minneapolis, and St. Louis.

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The ending of war in August 1945 and the closure of the "relocation" camps prompted a new wave of resettlement, this time a westward one. (However, several thousand went east to live and work in the vegetable farming and processing center at Seabrook Farms, New Jersey, including nearly 200 deported Peruvian nationals of Japanese ancestry who had been interned at the Justice Department's internment camp in Crystal City, Texas).

Along with the great majority of the residual 44,000 camp populations, many Nikkei who had resettled in the Midwest, East, South, or Intermountain West now returned to the Pacific Coast in the hope of resuming their prewar lives. Their return "home," however, was rife with problems. Generally, they were unwanted by their former neighbors and communities, a point driven home, powerfully and painfully, by civic proclamations, economic sanctions, and vigilante violence. Many possessed virtually no financial resources, lacked jobs to return to or even prospects of alternative employment, and were either bereft of places to live or found their homes occupied by strangers, in disrepair, or vandalized. In metropolitan areas like Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, returning Nikkei discovered their historic

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Japantowns, which had nourished them as commercial-cultural centers for over half a century, transmogrified into unsightly and unsanitary ghettos for housing migrant defense workers.

REgenerations Oral History Project: Rebuilding Japanese American Families, Communities, and Civil Rights in the Resettlement Era examines four resettlement study sites-Chicago, Los Angeles, San Jose, and San Diego-their immediate postwar experiences were similar in many respects yet recognizably distinctive. Although Chicago did not retain anything like its peak wartime Japanese American population, enough stayed to make it for more than a decade Cold War America's most prominent mainland Nikkei hub of commerce and culture outside of Los Angeles. Dynamic and progressive, it boasted a vital community newspaper (Chicago Shimpo) and a pictorial magazine aimed at a worldwide Nikkei market (Scene). The Chicago Resettlers Committee (CRC) anchored the community's upwardly mobile Nisei-dominated population. Whereas the new JACL chapter turned to civil rights issues, the CRC provided social services for its aging Issei population and recreational programs for its younger Nisei. It also promoted the economic and cultural advancement of older Nisei, many of whom exchanged inner-city addresses for periphery and suburban ones.

A REgenerations interviewee who both participated in this Chicago process and documented it for posterity was Togo Tanaka. Driven out of the Manzanar camp by the riot there in December 1942, this prewar editor of the Los Angeles-based Rafu Shimpo English-language section and national JACL officer landed in Chicago in early 1943. Employed during the war by the American Friends Service Committee to aid other resettlers find jobs and housing, Tanaka compiled reports on this activity for the University of California, Berkeley-directed Evacuation and Resettlement Study's field office at the University of Chicago. After the war Tanaka became a founder of the successful Chicago Publishing

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Corporation, as well as the aforementioned Scene magazine. In 1955, however, a reluctant Tanaka was persuaded by his wife to move back to Los Angeles, where he remains today after a lucrative career in real estate investment.

Harry Honda, the Pacific Citizen's emeritus editor, is another REgenerations interviewee who resettled in Chicago, though not until his army discharge, right after the war. Living in a Catholic Youth Organization-operated hostel, Honda was pulled back to his native Los Angeles by his parents' residence there and his preference for year-around sunshine. Before his 1941 conscription, Honda had written a column for the English-language section of the Rafu Shimpo (edited by Togo Tanaka). Honda resumed this assignment upon his postwar return to Los Angeles, but mainly completed his GI bill-supported studies at Loyola University. Back "home" slightly too late to experience the Nikkei reclaiming of Little Tokyo, renamed Bronzeville during its wartime interval as an African American enclave, Honda noticed that many Issei opening commercial establishments there were not the same individuals who had operated them before being sent to concentration camps. He further observed the resettlement of his community in hostels, trailer parks, and converted military barracks. By 1952, when the JACL moved its headquarters from Salt Lake City back to the Pacific Coast, the decision was made to publish the Pacific Citizen in Los Angeles under Honda's editorship. Thereupon Honda reported on and editorialized about the JACL's dual role-nationally and regionally-in combating anti-Japanese legislation, policies, and practices, while assisting Nikkei fulfill housing, employment, social services, and recreational needs.

Harry Ueno is still another REgenerations Project interviewee who lived and worked in prewar Los Angeles. But Ueno was neither a prominent community journalist nor a JACL leader. A Kibei groceryman incarcerated at Manzanar, Ueno was arrested as an alleged "troublemaker" during the Manzanar Riot, and his wartime "resettlement" consisted of imprisonment in two WRA "citizen isolation centers," in Utah and Arizona, and the Tule Lake Segregation Center. Financially destitute when released from Tule Lake in February 1946, he collected his family at a Buddhist hostel in San Jose and then accepted low-paying railroad and farming jobs in San Luis Obispo County. Although a novice farmer, Ueno became a strawberry sharecropper in Alameda County, leaving after three years to buy and successfully operate, first, a thriving ten-acre fruit farm in Sunnyvale, just outside of San Jose, and later, a prosperous seven-acre farm, right in San Jose proper. Ueno's progression up the agricultural ladder paralleled other farmers in the area, many of whom had to begin again as farm laborers, or to leave farming altogether and become gardeners in rapidly

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urbanizing Santa Clara County. Today a nonagenarian living in Sunnyvale, Ueno can reflect upon his three decades of retirement as a period in which he worked assiduously to set the historical record straight about himself, through a published autobiography, and about the Japanese American community, via active participation in the Redress Movement.

If, by 1947, 40 of the 53 postwar Nikkei businesses had reestablished themselves in San Jose's historic Japantown, in San Diego (which never had a genuine nihonmachi or Japantown), wartime internment effectively erased the ethnic economy that had developed in the interwar years within the Fifth and Island business district. Those who returned to San Diego after the war bemoaned the loss of this district's prewar abundance of stores, hotels, and restaurants and its prevailing family atmosphere. They now found this area, whose businesses had been taken over by other ethnic minorities, "abandoned," "unfriendly," and "spooky." By 1950 the Japanese American population of San Diego had regained its 1940 size of between 2,000 and 3,000 people, but the number of Nikkei businesses had dipped from 65 to 20 during this decade and the thriving prewar fishing industry was virtually destroyed. Moreover, many returning farmers had been reduced from employers to employees, or diverted into landscape gardening. Prosperity and social mobility ultimately came to Japanese Americans, along with many other San Diegans, in the late-1950s and 1960s with the meteoric rise of the Cold War-fueled aerospace industry. The emergent Nisei and Sansei professional class, many of whom were engineers, moved their families to San Diego's burgeoning suburbs and, in the process, left the city barren of discernible "Japanese" neighborhoods. Thus, in the late-1950s REgenerations Project interviewee Ruth Takahashi Voorhies, notwithstanding her "crude family Japanese," was prevailed upon by San Diego civic leaders" to officially greet visiting "big shots" from Japan in their native language simply because so few other Nikkei were around to perform the linguistic honors.

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One very young Nikkei who was around San Diego at this point and who never forgot his or his family's experiences in the city was Tetsuden Kashima. Born less than a year before Pearl Harbor, he had been interned with his family at the Tanforan Assembly Center in California, and the Topaz Relocation Center in Utah. From Topaz, Kashima's father, a Buddhist priest, resettled the family to Ogden so as to assist in managing a temple. In the postwar years, the senior Kashima brought his family to San Diego and undertook similar temple responsibilities from 1948 until 1950. Although still a preadolescent, Tetsuden was cognizant of his father making frequent visits to the city's outlying farming communities and returning to distribute produce to needy Nikkei families. He was also aware of his mother supplementing the family income by working as a seamstress. Furthermore, he knew that the family and community occurrences that he was observing were endemic among Japanese Americans during the early postwar years, whether in San Diego or elsewhere.

In 1980 Tetsuden Kashima, now a professor of sociology, drew upon his still palpable memories of his postwar years in San Diego to write about the resettlement experience of his community.

Instead of seeing the first decade after the camps as a smooth transition into a very successful ethnic minority group, Kashima argued that it should be viewed as a time of crisis. Nikkei, beset by the stress and anxiety of incarceration, had to grapple with many new problems once they left the camps: Where would they go? What would they do for a living? Where would they live? Moreover, they had to heal divisions within their communities, families, and even themselves. And they had to organize so as to roll back extant discriminatory legislation, repel new anti-Japanese initiatives, and gain long denied citizenship perquisites. At the same time, they had to overcome their hazukashi or prevailing sense of shame, however unwarranted. Usually this was accomplished through repression, silence, or forgetting. While Japanese Americans had achieved outward success, they still needed to gain inner peace. This would not come about by having flattering labels conferred upon Nikkei by mainstream pundits and power brokers, but rather through a self-

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examination that permitted the creation of a psychological and social world deemed meaningful to, for, and by them.

The Redress Movement that culminated in the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 represented an accomplishment of precisely the sort outlined by Tetsuden Kashima. More important even than the official governmental apology or the granting of reparation payments was the very process of redress, for it both gave the community back its authentic history with respect to its World War II experience and placed that history into a proper perspective. We now need to extend this situation so that it

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encompasses the resettlement experience. When reflecting upon some of the key personalities associated with the Redress Movement--Michi Nishiura Weglyn, of New York; Minoru Yasui, of Denver; William Hohri, of Chicago; Grace Uyehara, of Philadelphia--we implicitly grasp that there is an integral relationship between resettlement and redress. What is next on the agenda is to make this relationship an explicit one.

Interviews

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Harry K. Honda

• Interviewee:
•     Harry K. Honda
• Interviewer:
•     Leslie Ito
• Interviewer:
•     Cynthia Togami
• Interviewer:
•     Sojin Kim
• Date:
•     April 1, 1998 and June 17, 1999

Biography

Harry K. Honda

	"...the Japanese Issei that
	started up business in Little
	Tokyo. They were from out of
	town...those who were in
	business in '46, not all of them
	came back...some had
	retired or passed away.
	Perhaps some didn't want to
	have to get back on their
	feet in L.A.....I guess it was
	such a traumatic experience
	being kicked out, that they
	didn't want to come to L.A."

Harry K. Honda was born in Los Angeles, California. His parents both emigrated from Fukuoka prefecture in Japan. His father immigrated to the United States in the late-1890s, arriving in San Francisco. From there, he journeyed north to Alaska and worked in a cannery. His mother arrived later, in 1918. Eventually, the Hondas settled in the Temple and Figueroa area of Los Angeles. The Hondas had three children: two daughters, Kayoko and Fusako, and Harry, their only son. The Los Angeles neighborhood of Harry Honda's childhood years was ethnically diverse. He and his family lived among Chinese, Korean, Latino, Jewish and Filipino families.

While attending Los Angeles Junior College, Honda worked as a sportswriter for the Rafu Shimpo and he was the English section editor for the Sangyo Nippo ( Japanese Industrial Daily). In 1941, while employed as an assistant English editor at the Japanese American News, he was drafted into the military. After the United States entered World War II, his family was sent to Santa Anita Assembly Center, and then to Rohwer concentration camp in Arkansas.

On Christmas Eve in 1945, after serving four and a half years in the U.S. Army's Quartermaster Corps, Harry Honda was discharged from the army. He spent a brief period in Chicago where his older sisters had been living. His six-month stay in Chicago offered him the opportunity to renew friendships. In Chicago, he was asked to return a car for a friend in Southern California. During the trip he took further opportunities to reacquaint himself with people who knew prior to the war. Once he drove into California, Honda decided against returning to Chicago.

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Upon his return to Los Angeles, he made use of the GI bill and enrolled at Loyola University in the fall of 1946. He graduated from Loyola in 1950, with a political science degree. That same year, he took a job as an assistant editor for the Japanese American News, remaining there until he was appointed editor of the Pacific Citizen in September 1952. In the following years, Honda has worked with the Pacific Citizen in a number of capacities, including general manager/operations from 1980 to 1990 and senior editor from 1990-1992, and presently, since 1992, as been editor emeritus.

Harry Honda married in 1957. He and his wife, Misako have one daughter and three grandchildren. He remains active in Japanese American organizations and community events, including the Pan American Nikkei Association and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. Honda has been active with the Japanese American Citizens League since the late-1940s, serving as chapter delegate to national conventions, Los Angeles downtown chapter president in 1950, and many other posts.

Interview 1 of 2

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Harry K. Honda speaks about his experiences in the military during World War II, his brief stay in Chicago after he was discharged, and the continuity of Japanese American community life. He describes his experiences growing up in a multicultural Los Angeles neighborhood, and outlines how the city developed and changed during the postwar years. In addition, he recounts his work for the Rafu Shimpo, the Japanese American News, the Pacific Citizen, and other Japanese American newspapers, and discusses the history, scope, and activities of the Japanese American Citizens League [JACL] and the Pacific Citizen during the pre- and postwar years. Leslie Ito conducted the first interview on April 1, 1998. Cynthia Togami and Sojin Kim conducted Harry Honda's second interview on June 17, 1999. Both interviews took place in Monterey Park, California.

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Harry Honda

I'm Harry K. Honda, editor emeritus here at the Pacific Citizen [ PC].

I've been here with the PC since 1952. Right now, my current role is to work on the archives that have been neglected all these years. The whole point of the archives was to make it accessible to the public at large, especially to students who want to learn more about what the Japanese American community [and its history] was like during the war years.

We're very proud of our material on World War II, the camp life, what the Nisei were able to accomplish during the war years. Of course, our files are right behind us—our bound volumes [referring to the documents in the room]. We have this little room here we call our library that students and researchers come and make use of. And our next thing that we really need now is a microfilm reader. Our microfilm collection includes some of the issues that were published before the war. Thanks to UCLA Graduate Library, we have a copy of volume one, number one issue of the Pacific Citizen, which was printed back in October of 1929.

The PC, before the war, was a monthly publication. In June of 1942, it became a weekly. It served as a nationwide newspaper for Japanese Americans. Since all the other newspapers on the West Coast were shut down by evacuation,

the PC was perhaps the newspaper of record of what the Japanese Americans were able to accomplish and what they thought about.

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Thanks to the PC, we were able to print some of the stories that Toshio Mori had written, which was later published as Yokohama California. Some of the other things that Pacific Citizen has are the files of evacuation, some of the pamphlets that were published by the War Relocation Authority [WRA].

Our archives include—what I would say—personal bits of information, what they accomplished, and some of the personal profiles. We're trying to beef that up. We have a lot of newspapers that have to be clipped that have very substantial background information on some of our Issei and Nisei leaders. So that's what we're trying to do with the archives here.

With respect to the postwar years, between '46 and '52, the paper [ Pacific Citizen] was still being published in Salt Lake City. Therefore, it does not have the depth of coverage that the West Coast papers would have had. But nationally, it was able to give a glimpse of what Japanese American communities were like in Chicago, Salt Lake, Denver, Seattle, as well as California.

I was in on the ground floor as far as the REgenerations Oral History Project was concerned, so I'm very happy that I'm able to contribute my little bits of what Little Tokyo was like.

Is that okay?

Ito

Okay. I just want to ask you a few questions about your background. Where did your family live in the prewar era?

Harry Honda

We lived in the Los Angeles area in the Temple and Figueroa

area just outside of Little Tokyo. The neighborhood was very diverse. That's the word to use today. We had Chinese families, Korean families, Latino families, Jewish families. In fact, the Temple and Figueroa area back in the twenties, when I grew up, had three Jewish synagogues in the neighborhood. So that shows you how strong the Jewish community

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was in that area back in the '20s. This is before they started to leave the area for Fairfax , which is still a fairly large Jewish community.

And then when war came along many Japanese Americans were sent to Santa Anita.

and then to Rohwer [concentration camp], Arkansas. In my case, I was already in the service from 1941. I was drafted before the war, so I myself did not participate or experience what the evacuation was like.

Ito

Where were you in '41?

Harry Honda

Well, my military service was mostly in the interior. I took my basic training at Fort Francis E. Warren, Wyoming, just north of Cheyenne. Then we were all transferred to the middle of Texas—Camp Barkeley, Texas, right next to Abilene. And as you might guess, I was in the service in Wyoming taking (chuckles) basic training at the time Pearl Harbor was bombed.

We had a commander on the post who was very understanding. He got the entire garrison together on the parade grounds and addressed the entire troops. He was aware that there were German and Japanese and Italian descent soldiers in training, and he said, "If any of you get in trouble, or anyone makes any disparaging remarks, let me know, because we don't want to tolerate that type of conversation and discrimination." So we felt very much at ease because of that.

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We were able to finish our basic training without any problems. But it was time to move on. We had finished our 16 weeks of basic training. It was the first part of January. It just so happened that there were 80 of us Nisei at Fort Warren. We were all put on the troop train and wound up in Texas. There were a few Italian and German Americans with us.

So when we reported at Camp Barkeley in the middle of January. As we came marching into the camp where we were going to be housed, the fellows there who were watching us march thought we were all (chuckles) POW's, prisoners of war—all these Japanese faces. And again, the captain of our outfit in Texas gathered the troops in the headquarters unit area and repeated the same thing that we had heard in Fort Warren, Wyoming that we had a contingent of close to a hundred Japanese and German and Italian American soldiers here. We were to be treated with the same respect as the rest of them, because we're all in the same war. We're all in the same uniform. He said that he didn't want to hear any bad-mouthing, or he didn't want to see us being teased because we happened to be of enemy race. Because of that, the rest of the guys in the outfit understood. And it was in a matter of a couple weeks that they appreciated the fact that we were able to fit in very smoothly. We got along well for the rest of the war.

Ito

And then, through this period, where was your family?

Harry Honda

My family, at that time, was in Rohwer, Arkansas.

Ito

And at that point, did you have any correspondence with them? Did you see your family?

Harry Honda

Oh yes. We were able to write to them, of course. In fact, I was fortunate enough to visit them in camp. Where we were in the middle of Texas, it took us a little over a day to get to Arkansas by train. So I had one furlough there and was to visit them on weekends. Being in uniform, it gave us a little more freedom, because I was able to visit friends in Manzanar

[concentration camp, California] and at Gila River [concentration camp, Arizona] where I had cousins.

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Wearing a uniform in spite of an Asian face, I had no problems. I think the war years for me were unusual in that some of my buddies wound up in the 100^th and 442^nd and some went to Military Intelligence Language School. But in my case, I managed to stay four and a half years in the U.S. with the Quartermaster Corps. By the time the 442^nd was being organized in late-'43, I was on the list to go, but my captain pulled me off because I was engaged in the training of quartermaster officers in other outfits.

Camp Barkeley happened to be a training ground for two infantry divisions. The divisions were there for three to four months at a crack, and then would go overseas. And part of my job was to assist and train some of the enlisted men and officers of how the Quartermaster Corps operated.

Ito

What is the Quartermaster Corps?

Harry Honda

Quartermaster Corps was the outfit that was responsible for requisitioning and distributing supplies. In other words, they were able to gather the uniforms, the food, and all the other modes of transportation, and distribute them to the soldiers, to the troops, to the divisions. That's what the Quartermaster Corps was. What else is there?

Ito

It says here in December 24, 1945, you left the army?

Harry Honda

Yes. When I was discharged on Christmas Eve in '45. At that time, the army had commandeered all the available passenger trains because so many of the soldiers were coming back from overseas. And we were on a troop train that they must have resurrected from a museum. It had a Coleman lamp for (chuckles) illumination and a potbelly stove in the middle of the car for heating purposes.

I was discharged at Camp Grant, which is in Rockford, Illinois. And of course, it was snowing that day; it was cold. But we didn't mind the weather, because we were getting discharged. I wound up in Chicago.

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My sister, Kayoko, was in Chicago at the time. I had a lot of friends from L.A. who were also living in Chicago. So I had planned to stay in Chicago. But I wanted to see my parents who were already in Los Angeles at that time. I was given a chance to drive to the West Coast and take a car back there. I told my mom that I was planning to go to school or find a job in Chicago after I visited with them for a while. She was kind of disappointed in hearing that. But when I was driving across the Colorado River—I'm back in California. Right then and there, I said, "I'm not going back to Chicago. It's too cold." (laughs)

Ito

At that point, why was Chicago such—?

Harry Honda

Most of the Japanese Americans who were out of college or at least out of high school or junior college were already working in the Chicago area.

During the mid-forties, a lot of the Nisei were leaving camp to work in the Chicago area, because that's where the jobs were. That's where they were readily accepted for employment. And no one thought of ever getting back to the West Coast. Of course, they couldn't go back during the war years. So I was going to join them. I think at that time, Chicago must have had close to 30,000 or 40,000 Japanese Americans in the mid-'40s.

Ito

How long did you stay in Chicago?

Harry Honda

I was just there for no more than a half a year.

Ito

And what was your living environment there?

Harry Honda

I was staying at a hostel in Chicago. It was run by the Catholic Youth Organization, CYO. I had friends there that were there before me, and they said, "Yeah, we have a place for you to stay." So these were guys that I had grown up with in L.A. before the war, so I felt pretty much at home.

Ito

Can you describe the hostel a little bit more for me?

Harry Honda

It was not the kind of hostel that—there were about four or five residents. So, it was like a house almost. There were no Issei there. It was basically Nisei. It's not the type of hostel you would think of out here on the West Coast where you had maybe six, seven families together constantly moving in and out.

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Ito

Was it mostly men, or was it a mixed group? Were there men and women staying at this hostel?

Harry Honda

Well, the housekeeper and her family.

Ito

And were they Catholic, or were they Japanese Americans?

Harry Honda

No. They were just Japanese Americans. The reason why I say Catholic Youth Organization is that they owned the building, and they wanted to be a part of the resettlement program by helping out. They had the building, and they had space available for maybe half a dozen people plus the housekeeper. So you didn't have to be a Catholic (chuckles) to go to the CYO.

Ito

So you stayed there for about a half a year?

Harry Honda

Yeah. So I got to know Chicago pretty well.

Ito

And during this period, were you working?

Harry Honda

I was collecting $20 a week as a veteran. I think it was $20 a week.

I was looking for a position. But being a newspaperman, there was nothing newspaper-wise. So I was helping out. Let's see, who was I helping out? There was no Chicago Japanese American newspaper at that time. So I think I just looked around. That's why I wasn't going to school or doing anything at the time. So it was kind of an unwinding process for me.

Ito

So then you took the trip across the country to visit your family, your parents. Where were your parents after the war?

Harry Honda

They were in L.A. In fact, back in the same Bunker Hill neighborhood, you might say. Today, it's right next to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

Ito

Did they have a hard time finding a place?

Harry Honda

That I couldn't say. I wasn't aware that they had a hard time.

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Ito

I'm curious as to the role the WRA played in the resettlement period, in particular with your family or yourself. Did you have any help from the WRA?

Harry Honda

I don't know if the family received help. I didn't have WRA help.

Ito

So, could you describe a little bit more about—you said that the weather was one reasons why you didn't return to Chicago.

Harry Honda

I think anybody who was born and raised in Southern California will always make comparisons about how good the weather was when they were growing up compared to living in the Midwest. I think if a person has a good job in the Midwest, they won't mind the weather. It's part of life that way. But in my case, I didn't have a job.

Ito

As a journalist, was it more beneficial, then, for you to be in Los Angeles?

Harry Honda

At least in L.A., the Japanese American newspapers were already in business in '46. But instead of that, I decided to make use of my GI bill.

Since I had served four-and-a-half years in the service, I was entitled to four years of college. So I spent my four years of college at Loyola University.

The reason why I went there was that it was a small school. I didn't want to go to a big institution like USC [University of Southern California, Los Angeles] or UCLA [University of California, Los Angeles], so I chose Loyola. I had some friends there already. It didn't take me very long to find other friends who lived out my way. So we were able to jump into one car. Four or five of us would commute to school that way.

Ito

What were you studying at Loyola?

Harry Honda

I was a poli. sci. [political science] major. At that time, Loyola was all-men, and it is still where it is today, in Westchester. I graduated in 1950.

Ito

When did you start?

Harry Honda

In the fall of 1946.

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Ito

And what was your reception on campus with administrators and faculty?

Harry Honda

No problem at all. I would say, there was no more than—maybe the student body was about 2,000—between 1,500 and 2,000. I would say about 400—especially those in our liberal arts college class from '46 were basically veterans. The veterans were at least four or five years older than the rest of the student body. So we were looked up [to] like we were seniors by age. I think there were no more than half a dozen Asians on campus. Three of them happened to be Chinese Americans. The chairman of our political science department happened to be Chinese. So we got along real well. (chuckles)

Ito

And then, during this period were you active in the Japanese American community?

Harry Honda

Well, at that time, I was writing a column for the Rafu Shimpo.

That was the extent of my writing activity. Perhaps on the weekend I would socialize. But other than that, it was basically studies.

Ito

What type of column were you writing for the Rafu?

Harry Honda

Well, it was more or less on the light side. Nothing serious. Maybe you might find a point or two some place along the line. Here, I was trying to—not so much amuse—but at least entertain. Write an entertaining type of column. I still use the same name, "Very Truly Yours." It's a name that was concocted in 1941.

The late Henry Mori, one of the workers at the Rafu Shimpo before the war, named his column, "Making the Deadline." So I followed. At that time I was working for the Sangyo Nippo, which is no longer around. But it was a morning newspaper, as opposed to the Rafu Shimpo being an afternoon newspaper. So Henry's column was called, "Making the Deadline." My first columns at Sangyo Nippo were called, "After the Deadline." So it was kind of a play on words.

And when I started to contribute to the Rafu Shimpo in 1940, I decided to take a job in San Francisco. Togo Tanaka,

English section editor at

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the Rafu Shimpo, said, "How about writing the same kind of column you used to write?" And I did. But he said, "We'll call it 'Very Truly Yours.'" So that name has stuck since '41. I still use that title.

Ito

So you had associations with the Rafu Shimpo before the war, and then when you returned to Los Angeles, you sort of resumed your relationship?

Harry Honda

Yes. I could have, but I opted to go to college and make use of my GI bill. I'm sure Mr. Akira Komai

(chuckles) would have loved to have me help, but I decided to go to school instead.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about Little Tokyo during this postwar period, and maybe a little bit of contrasting [it] to the prewar period?

Harry Honda

One of the first impression that I had of Little Tokyo after the war was that most of the Issei who had started businesses were basically Issei from outside of Little Tokyo. They were either Issei fishermen in San Pedro, who couldn't go back to fishing, so they started stores or restaurants in Little Tokyo. Then, we had of course, the S.K. Uyeda Ten Cents store.

It was the first Japanese store that opened up in Little Tokyo back in '45. He's originally from San Francisco. There were quite a few Issei who were not from L.A., who felt the opportunity was here in Los Angeles to rebuild Japantown.

The Issei leaders who had stores in Little Tokyo before the war were all picked up and put into enemy alien internment camps. Maybe that experience was too much for them to revive Little Tokyo in the same manner. Maybe if they were younger, they might have resumed their prewar occupations or stores.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about the relationships between African Americans and Japanese Americans during this time in Little Tokyo?

Harry Honda

I missed all that. [I'm sure that] those who were here in '45 when the West Coast first opened up must have had some problems trying to regain their property on East First Street. At that time, [the] East First Street area was called Bronzeville,

settled by war workers from the South who happened to be African Americans. But eventually, the Issei

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who had property were able to regain their premises, or the landlords were able to get these black Americans out so that their places could be resumed as businesses, as opposed to housing.

But that's all from what I've read. I have no personal experiences of what it was like in '45. That time can be related to you by those who were here. They can best fill in this part of Little Tokyo history.

Ito

What drew the Japanese Americans back to Little Tokyo during this postwar period?

Harry Honda

What attracted them? Perhaps weather. The other factor would be family. The parents were probably here on the West Coast trying to settle, and perhaps they were asked to come and help. Perhaps being with other Issei friends. I'm sure the Issei still preferred to get along in their own language. Not many were able to speak English, especially in the Midwest where you had to. And perhaps they felt much more comfortable living on the West Coast, especially in the cities. Perhaps that explains why Little Tokyo was able to get back on its feet.

Ito

So you graduated from Loyola in 1950, you said. And what were your plans?

Harry Honda

Mr. Saburo Kido

was a legal counsel to the New Japanese American News, [ Shin Nichibei] the third Japanese vernacular in Little Tokyo. I was helping him out during my senior year on weekends and writing short stories and stuff, as he needed help. So when I got out of school, he said, "You can come and work for me," which I did. I was assistant editor at the paper to the English section editor. It was one way to keep me out of mischief, you might say. I was also working in the county assessor's office. To me, it was too much like drudgery work. So I left that job to go work full-time for Mr. Kido.

In 1952, when the JACL

decided to move the Pacific Citizen to the West Coast, it was decided to have the paper come to L.A. At that time, Larry Tajiri who was the editor, said he didn't want to come back to Los Angeles, so he resigned. When the paper came to Los Angeles without

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an editor, Mr. Kido said, "Well, I've got to have you take care of the paper." So I was picked to be the editor back in September of '52.

Ito

How long had the paper been in Salt Lake City, and why?

Harry Honda

From '42 to '52, 10 years.

Ito

And why Salt Lake City? Was it just to move it into the interior, or—?

Harry Honda

From San Francisco. When evacuation was taking place, the national JACL headquarters and the PC, which was being edited at the same place, had to relocate. They wound up in Salt Lake City because it was a very friendly area as far as Japanese Americans were concerned. And in '52, the JACL Convention decided it was time to go back to the West Coast, because the situation there had settled.

San Francisco was booming [at that time], and so was Los Angeles. But it just so happened that Los Angeles had more possibilities for supporting the newspaper advertising-wise, because there was a greater business community in L.A. So the National JACL Council agreed to separate the national headquarters and the Pacific Citizen in '52.

Ito

And where was that office? Where specifically was it relocated to?

Harry Honda

You mean in L.A.?

Ito

Um-hm.

Harry Honda

We first occupied a room in the old Miyako Hotel, which was on First [Street] and San Pedro [Street]. The JACL regional office was also in the same building. We were more or less together—the regional office and the Pacific Citizen—wherever it moved. From the Miyako Hotel, we went to Sun Building on Weller Street, and then we moved over together to the Nishi Hongwanji,

which is now the Japanese American National Museum.

From there, we went to the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center.

Now the JACL office is still there, but in our case, we needed more room. So we moved out to—Let's see, where did we move? Third

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Street right by Santa Fe Avenue—in that area. We were there for about six years and two years at Third and Alameda—eight years altogether in the Third Street area. And six years ago, we moved out to Monterey Park [McCaslin Business Park] here. And we've been here in this particular place [Cupania Circle] about two and a half years.

Ito

How long have you been associated with the JACL? Was that previous to your job at Pacific Citizen?

Harry Honda

Yeah. I was a booster to [JACL] national conventions from 1946.

Ito

What did that position involve?

Harry Honda

1946, I was booster, a non-voting delegate, to the convention at Denver. Then in 1950, I was asked to be chapter president for the downtown Los Angeles chapter and went to Chicago as a delegate. And then in 1952, I was asked to be the editor. So that's my connections as far as JACL goes [outside of PC].

Ito

What type of role do you feel the JACL has had in the Japanese American community?

Harry Honda

You mean in Los Angeles?

Ito

Um-hm.

Harry Honda

JACL in the mid-'40s was basically busy resettling families. The JACL officials at that time in the mid-'40s were all bilingual. They had to be, because they were dealing with Issei. They were busy resettling, finding jobs, finding houses for some of these families. [They were] very social service conscious.

For JACL by 1948—they were busy trying to get citizenship for the Issei. So it was a four-year struggle for JACL to pass the Immigration and Nationality Act

so that the Issei could be naturalized in 1952.

Then after that, the JACL's role [in the Japanese American Evacuation Claims Act] was to get evacuation claims for the Issei.

Whereas redress

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today was $20,000 for eligible survivors of the camp life, in the case of the Issei back in the mid-'40s and into the '50s, it was what we call "pots-and-pans" payment. The government had insisted on solid proof of losses.

And of course when evacuation came along, nobody bothered to keep receipts or papers to show ownership, so consequently many claims of losses were not recognized. The government [United States Congress] had an amendment passed [in 1954] so that all they could get was a token sum of not more than $2,500 for losses of personal equipment, personal goods of that type.

Those who lost substantially more were able to sue the government in the Court of Claims, which is a very long process. And still, they were not able to get no more than maybe ten-to-one of what was claimed.

Ito

Did your family participate in this process?

Harry Honda

Yes. At the time, they must have gotten about $2,000 for what I would call on their evacuation claims as opposed to individual redress. And that was more or less a general number, $2,000.

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Ito

How did the JACL help find jobs? Could you talk about this in a little more detail?

Harry Honda

I think the best source for that type of information is a senior citizen by the name of Tats Kushida

who lives right here in Monterey Park. He was regional director in the mid-'50s, and before that, he was with the WRA in Kansas City. He also did relocation work for WRA. He was also JACL regional director in Chicago about the time that I was there. So he had the experience of assisting Issei families find jobs and housing. And the JACL worked very closely with the resettlement program that the WRA had, in intervening for [many] Issei families in government housing after the war.

When they had problems, they would go to JACL for assistance. Of course, there were many trailer homes for returning families. In Long

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Beach, what used to be the navy barracks, was taken over by the government and used for housing. Not just for Japanese, but whoever needed housing after the war.

I think JACL also—not so much the regional office—but the chapters initiated athletic programs. They also, of course, a social center. JACL assisted Issei in interpreting, translating problems of that kind. JACL in those days was very service-oriented, because there were no other organizations outside of the churches. Today, it's just the other way around. We have all types of service organizations, so the JACL has concentrated on human and civil rights.

Ito

How did the Pacific Citizen play a role in all the activities that you have just talked about?

Harry Honda

Well, the paper itself was trying to keep up-to-date with what was happening, not only in JACL, but in the Japanese American community at large. Some of the big stories that occurred—this is before my time—in the late-forties when Japanese American families were coming out to the West Coast and discrimination was still an issue because of the Alien Land Law.

And we had two treason trials—the Tomoya Kawakita trial and the [Iva Toguri] Tokyo Rose trial.

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And we still had problems with Tule Lake

[concentration camp, California]. Tule Lake was still open until July of '46. We also had, I think, public relation problems. The use of the term "Jap" was still prevalent. The PC was able to report on these kinds of issues. Since it was circulated nationally, at least we were able to keep the rest of the Japanese American community across the country [apprised] of what was happening here on the West Coast.

The PC, to me, was very instrumental in keeping the community together in that respect. People out on the East Coast couldn't afford to subscribe to a daily newspaper like the Rafu Shimpo because it was too expensive. So PC had a very definite place as far as Japanese American families were concerned. At that time, families would have to subscribe. Right now, by being a member [of JACL], you would get the paper. But in those days, even a member has to shell out a little extra. I think it was $3.00 or $4.00 a year to get the paper.

Ito

Immediately after the war, families were occupied with rebuilding their lives, and the Japanese American community remained somewhat disenfranchised. At what point would you say was the turning point for the Japanese American community in re-establishing itself?

Harry Honda

What do you mean by disenfranchised?

Ito

Well, just that when they first resettled, it was more the terms of each family's survival, and at what point did the Japanese American community come together and really form a community, or do you think that was happening all along?

Harry Honda

I think the camp experience welded the community a lot closer than people think, because here they were a whole camp full of a same kind, you might say. Being cooped up together for three, four years, they form very fast and solid friendships. Some of them who had farms in Central Valley or Imperial Valley didn't want to go back, because they knew there was nothing for them.

So they would move to L.A. or San Francisco, and track down the friends that they had made in camp to get themselves going. So you could say the community, as you see it today, really was there all along. It's just that they were dislocated because of the war. But I don't think that the

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so-called Japanese community was lost. Now it's being spread out a lot more. Somehow maybe the REgeneration[s] project will pinpoint where we start to fall apart.

Ito

I'd like to talk a little bit about family life after the war. What notable changes in the family structure were evident in you or your family in the postwar era?

Harry Honda

Well, in my case, my youngest sister had already been married during the war years in Chicago, and she stayed in Chicago. So in Los Angeles it was just my sister, Fusako, my parents, and I. And of course, our family was small in terms of numbers. We only had one set of cousins, unlike others that had four, five cousins, families. So our family was fairly tight from the standpoint of being knit.

The Issei were able to stay together because of kinship by prefecture, kenjinkai.

I remember all those kenjinkai summer picnics and the New Year's parties that they had before and after the war. That was a great thing for the Issei. If they did not see their friends from other parts of their own background prefectures, at least they got together at picnic time. I remember your grandfather, Tom Ito, at the same (chuckles) kenjinkai picnic. So we happened to be in the same Fukuoka-ken.

Ito

And can you describe those picnics a little bit more?

Harry Honda

Yeah. I think the postwar picnics were a great gathering place for the Nisei. Aside from the races, and the games, and the entertainment, it was a chance to get together. Some hadn't seen each other since camp, maybe. In my case, some of the guys that I had met in the army were at picnics—not knowing that their folks and my folks were from the same prefecture. And eventually, the Nisei leaders were able to carry on the picnics.

The Issei leaders were getting old. Somewhere in the late-'60s and maybe in the early-'70s, it was getting to be a big job, so they dropped the picnics all together which is too bad. But I think those picnics are now being duplicated, you might say, by clan picnics.

My wife happened to have six brothers and sisters married. So (chuckles), their kids, our kids, and grandkids get together, you have a picnic all in itself, where it's a (chuckles) family picnic [with] the same proportion from the standpoint of numbers. You have maybe 70 or 80 people together.

Ito

Where did these kenjinkai picnics take place?

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Harry Honda

Public parks, mostly. Elysian Park

was a very popular place. Some of the other places that I can think of would be -I remember a couple of them being held at the beaches, Redondo Beach area before the war. But the parks were the best, because it was close to Los Angeles where most of the people lived.

Ito

During the 1940s and '50s, many Nisei were getting married and starting their own families. Does that include yourself?

Harry Honda

No. I'm a late-bloomer, you might say. (chuckles) I married in '57. A lot of Nisei—I wouldn't say a lot, but many Nisei couples were married in camp. They didn't want to be separated, so they got married in camp or before evacuation perhaps. And I'm sure they must have struggled, huh?

Ito

Getting back to your role as editor at the Pacific Citizen, could I have you describe a little bit more about your position as editor once the offices moved in '52 to Los Angeles?

Harry Honda

Well, a lot of that is written up in that story that I just gave you. But in a nutshell, when I took over the paper in '52, [it was] just myself as a writer. Then I had a young lady [employed] to take care of the business side—circulation, ads—and then, we [also] had a typesetter. The typesetter and myself were able to put the paper together. And then, it was sent to the printer. And when it came back [from the printer], we had a part-timer address the papers and who would bundle them off to the post office.

The business manager at that time also happened to be the JACL regional director who did double-duty. We had a pro bono accountant take care of the books. So it was a very humble beginning. It was more fun, than hard work as far as I was concerned. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in this business to this day. What it was—there were long hours involved, and I banked on people making contributions and sending us stories. We had columnists, of course. And Bill Hosokawa

is still

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writing for us. JACL Washington director, Mike Masaoka was also writing for us every week. So we had a very interesting paper.

But I think the best role for the paper was during the war years when it started to publish the casualty list of those who were killed in action, who were wounded in the war. Their names and the next of kin would be on the front page of the paper. It was a very anticipated list of names that people wanted to see in late-'45. But in my case, those days were over, so it was more or less routine to keep up with what was happening around the country.

I was able to develop contributors from different parts of the country who served as a columnist from Seattle, someone from San Francisco, someone from Chicago. Bill Hosokawa was in Denver. So we had kind of a glimpse of what was happening around the country. We even had a columnist from the Rafu Shimpo to write on what was happening in the L.A. area to let people know around the country that this is what's happening in our little backyard here.

Ito

Moving into the 1950s and the beginning of the Civil Rights era, how did the Civil Rights Movement affect Japanese Americans? And also, did the Pacific Citizen document any of the activities?

Harry Honda

Discrimination was still very much a concern for JACL, as well as the community at large. ACLU [American Civil Liberties Union] was one of our sources of how to meet this problem head on. PC had a column called "Minority Week" in which we reported in not more than maybe 50 words, different events that were happening in the minority field, especially with the blacks, just to make the Japanese American community conscious of what a minority problem was like. Of course from that, JACL was able to focus on civil rights.

Ito

I've read that the Pacific Citizen is now mostly Sansei-run. Is this true?

Harry Honda

Yes. I would say so. Are you talking about writers?

Ito

Um-hm.

Harry Honda

Yes.

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Ito

And how did that transition come about from the Nisei to the Sansei?

Harry Honda

Well, it' s a matter of age, you might say. Some of our writers have just begged off or resigned. Bill Hosokawa who is now in his mid-eighties is still writing for us. But I think the trend today is that those who are active in the writing field are basically very young Nisei in their sixties or Sansei who are pushing 50. But there's no definitive line—you might say—when the change took place. So it was very gradual. We've had youth writers. When I say youth, they were the young people in JACL—the Sansei writing for us back in the '60s. This is now 30 years, so they must be pushing 50 [years old] today. At least the paper tried to be a place where comments, contributions from all walks of life would find a place.

Ito

And how would you envision the future of JACL and Pacific Citizen?

Harry Honda

Well, I'll always believe that as long as there are problems affecting Asian Americans and Japanese Americans in particular, there will be a need for JACL or an organization like it. And for an organization to be effective, it needs a public media, a public voice, a public way of disseminating information. And Pacific Citizen is able to fulfill that role. As long as it's a newspaper trying to show a balanced picture of what's happening, the paper will survive. I mean, there is a role to fill. And the fact that PC goes across the country is a plus.

Ito

What are the major milestones do you feel in your life?

Harry Honda

My life? I tell everybody I shook hands with Alberto Fujimori

(chuckles) at the time he was inaugurated back in 1990. I was invited to cover the inauguration of his being president, through the good word of Father Luis Martinez, a Spanish Jesuit in Lima who had officiated at the wedding ceremony of Alberto Fujimori and his wife Susana.

I met the priest in Mexico City 10 years earlier, a gentleman speaking fluent Japanese. Of course, he spoke English, so I was able to get along real well with him. And we corresponded and kept it up, for he was the one that told me that Professor Fujimori was going to run for presidency. I reported that in the PC, saying that the Peruvian-born Nisei was a candidate for the presidency in Peru. I think we were perhaps the first U.S. newspaper to carry that little report.

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It was a very little report, but nobody knew who (chuckles) Fujimori was to begin with, except the fact that he taught mathematics at a university. It was like a national agricultural university. So when the news broke out in the major press, the U.S. State Department had to scramble to find out who the young man was that's going to campaign to be president of Peru. They had no idea that there would be a minority person in Peru running for the presidency.

To me, that's the most outstanding (chuckles) event. I can't think of anything else. Not many people can say, "I shook hands with Fujimori." (laughs) Till this day, every time I'm in Peru, or he's passing through L.A., I try to get a chance to say "hello," or at least that much.

Ito

Okay. Just wrapping up the interview, is there anything else that you'd like to add that we left out?

Harry Honda

Well, I hope your REgenerations project is a success, and I'm sure it will be. However if it's going to be distributed, disseminated, when it's done, we're here to help get the word out. You can count on that.

End of interview 1 of 2

Interview 2 of 2

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Togami

My name is Cynthia Togami, and I will be interviewing Harry Honda, editor emeritus for the Pacific Citizen. This is a follow-up interview to an earlier interview done on April 1^st 1998 by Leslie Ito for the REgenerations Oral History Project, a collaborative project done in conjunction with the Japanese American National Museum, the Japanese American Resource Center/Museum in San Jose, the Japanese [American] Historical Society of San Diego and Chicago Japanese American Historical Society. The date is Thursday, June 17, 1999, and this interview is taking place in Monterey Park, California at the Pacific Citizen office. Present in the room besides the narrator and the interviewer, is Sojin Kim, who will be videotaping this particular interview.

In your last interview there wasn't as much information on your parents. Can you tell me about your parents? You mentioned that you attended Fukuoka kenjinkai picnics. What part of Fukuoka were your parents from?

Harry Honda

You want to know where they were from?

Togami

Mmhm.

Harry Honda

First of all, both of my parents were from Fukuoka-ken, [which is in the] western part of Japan. My father was in the next mura,

the next area from where my mother was. The whole area today is one big city called Kitakyushu. So that's all I can say about my parents, for both have passed away. My dad was 94 when he passed away in the year '78, and my mother was going to be 101 when she passed away in 1998.

Togami

Do you recall when your parents came from Japan to the United States?

Harry Honda

Do I recall? Well, the family history shows that my dad came in the late-1890s to San Francisco, and he spent one or two years up in Alaska in a cannery. And my mother came in 1918. It so happened that my dad was fortunate enough to have enough funds to go back to Japan to get married, and they came back together. I take it back. They did not come back together. My mother had some eye problems so she was detained at Yokohoma until the eye condition was cleared up. She came the following year in late-1918.

Togami

Do you know, when you say that she was detained— ?

Harry Honda

And yes and by that time, they were all in Los Angeles, and that's where I was born.

Togami

What were your father and mother like?

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Harry Honda

Very quiet, hard working gentleman. I think he was the third son in the family. He had an older brother who was a very successful nurseryman in Los Angeles. My mother was the youngest of them. I think there are four or five. I don't remember now, but four or five children in that family. She was the youngest. That's about all I can say.

The thing about recalling family history is that I didn't have the opportunity to really get to know that. Because one of the best ways to get know family was during the camp years when the kids were able to talk to their parents day in and day out. And that's how children were able to understand what it was like when their parents were growing up. In my case, I was already in the service, so I missed all of that.

Togami

You have mentioned before that you had sisters. How many sisters did you have and did you have any brothers?

Harry Honda

Just two sisters. Kayoko, the youngest one, passed away 25 years ago in Chicago, and the other sister, Fusako, resides in L.A. So there were just three of us kids in the family.

Togami

So you were the only male child in the family?

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Do you remember your grandparents at all?

Harry Honda

None whatsoever.

Togami

Not at all? Did your parents first settle in the Temple and Figueroa area of Los Angeles, or elsewhere?

Harry Honda

When they came to Los Angeles, it was basically in the same area where we were before— in the Temple Street area.

Togami

And what was that area like? You mentioned in the previous interview that it was ethnically diverse.

Harry Honda

It was a very, very mixed neighborhood in the 1920s. There were Japanese families, Korean families, Chinese families, and a number of Jewish families. The area, at one time, was solid Jewish, a solid Jewish community with three synagogues within a four-block square. So you can see how thoroughly Jewish it was until the 1920s when they started to move to Brooklyn Avenue

and out to Fairfax.

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So when they moved out— other minority families, the Chinese, Japanese, the Korean— Asians anyway, were able to move in. Towards the 1930s, Temple and Figueroa at that time had several restaurants, barbershops, and bars that also catered to the Filipino community. Some were calling it Little Manila. It's a term I haven't seen there in many, many years, but that's what it was called back in the '30s.

Togami

So, because it was called Little Manila— then ethnic group-wise— it was more numerously Filipino then?

Harry Honda

Yes. Yeah, I should also mention there are a number of Mexican families as well. So, we had a very— well I should say, a friendly neighborhood with all the different people.

Togami

So you played with these children?

Harry Honda

Yes! We all played together, yes.

Togami

Predominantly what were families doing occupation-wise in that area— looking at the different groups?

Harry Honda

[There were] mom and pop stores, dry-cleaning, barbershop, chop suey house, or restaurant. My dad was a shoe repairman. Let's see what else did they have? One Chinese family sold herbs. I think a lot of the women were working in garment factories at that time. Some were running a hotel or an apartment. So it was kind of a small, real small community with a little bit of everything.

We also had a number of Caucasians and one— now that I think back happened to be— [he had] come from Scotland, and he was a milkman. Of course, milk people, [those] who delivered milk were all through by noontime. So he would be home around noon and he would drag out and play his bagpipe to keep in practice. (laughter) So you can see the neighborhood was not really all minority. (laughs)

Togami

Well, it's quite a difference then from, let's say, Little Tokyo, at the time—

Harry Honda

Oh, definitely, definitely!

Togami

Sort of like stepping into a different world.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

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Togami

Do you have any significant memories of living in that area?

Harry Honda

To this day, I remember playing with Bruce Kaji,

who was still a young [at the time]— maybe about 10 years younger than I was. And Colonel Young Kim — his family ran a grocery store a block away from where my father had his shop. There were a number of other Nisei who were in the neighborhood. There was another Chinese family. Their son, Henry, was a year ahead of me in high school, and his oldest sister happened to be Anna May Wong of Hollywood fame, a silent movie star.

Togami

I never heard of Anna May Wong.

Harry Honda

Well, she was a silent movie star [many years ago], so we're talking about— what 60, 70 years ago.

Togami

So you'll permit me that, then? (laughter) I wanted to move on if possible, to talk about the postwar years.

Harry Honda

Okay.

Togami

First off, Chicago. I'm interested in your impressions of Chicago during the postwar period. I wanted to find out, first off, when did your sister leave Rohwer, Arkansas to go to Chicago? This is your youngest sister?

Harry Honda

Yeah. My younger sister, Kayoko "Tonie" had already— was already married and living in Chicago when I was discharged from the service in December '45. Chicago at that time must have been the center for evacuees out of the camps because the camps were being closed towards the tail end of '45.

So all of my friends that I knew before the war had resettled in the Chicago area finding all kinds of odd jobs. And in my case I didn't— I wasn't looking for work, I was just trying to catch up with friends. So Chicago at that time was a place for— for me anyway— to get acquainted with the gang that I hadn't seen in three or four years.

And then the opportunity came within a half a year later for me to drive a car back to L.A. So I thought, well that would be a good way of seeing my folks who were in

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L.A. at that time. So I had another fellow, two of us we drove to Los Angeles by way of a stopover in Denver. This is in March of '46.

Harry Honda

At that time the JACL was having its first postwar national convention in Denver. And it just so happened that I had a chance to meet a lot of other people in Denver— people that I knew before the war. So I spent a week in Denver, staying with some friends there. But Chicago perhaps was the closest thing to First and San Pedro after the camps closed. I wrote about it in the resettlement issue of the Nikkei—I forgot what they called the magazine.

Togami

Was it the Nanka Nikkei Voices?

Harry Honda

Yeah, Nanka Nikkei that's what it was. I talked about what Clark and Division

was like at that time which was like First and San Pedro I might say. There were a lot of little dives, restaurants, offices. It was a very busy place. And there were also a couple of churches in the area where after the services, they would gather at Clark and Division.

Togami

Now did your sister initially go to Chicago to find— to seek employment or— ?

Harry Honda

Well, now when did she leave camp, in '44? Yeah, I think she left in '44. She got out of high school in '43, so in '44 she was in Chicago. I don't recall exactly what she was doing in Chicago, but she wound up as a secretary for Chicago Boys Club, one of the bigger social institutions in Chicago. So she was there until she passed away in Chicago.

And her husband, Mitsuo Kodama— she had married before he had left for overseas. But when they came back— when he came back, I should say, he found himself a job with General Mailing Company, which was a company that was founded by a Nisei who handled mailing of different products: flyers, books, little things like that. It turned out to be a big operation— as the war— as business picked up. Later he worked with another firm until retirement.

Togami

Did this operation employ a lot of other Nisei— ?

Harry Honda

I have no idea how many they were, but it was— all I can recall is that it was a big operation, yeah.

Togami

Why did your parents not join your sister in Chicago?

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Harry Honda

Why? Well I think, you know, Issei , they were in camp until the place closed in October '45. When the camps closed they were given the opportunity to get back at government expense. Otherwise, if— say they wanted to go to Chicago, it would be at their own expense, plus $25. You can't get very far from Arkansas to Chicago on 25 bucks. Anybody that was in Rohwer— most of them had come out from Stockton or Los Angeles were able to take the train back at government expense either to Los Angeles or to Stockton.

Togami

You said that you had friends in Chicago. What were your friends doing there?

Harry Honda

Some of them had accounting jobs with the industries in Illinois. I remember my friend used to work for International Harvester, which made farm equipment. He was there until he retired 30 years later, in the '70s. Some of the others were working for different companies, clerical or— I know there were a couple of barbers. I really don't recall what some of the other people were doing. Many women were in the clerical field.

Togami

Generally speaking, do you think that they were doing better economically?

Harry Honda

Well, I think, in Chicago— I think the situation was much better than the unknown factor of going back to Little Tokyo. If you stop and consider that they are only making $16 or $19 a month in camp and then they get out of camp and they've got themselves a halfway decent job. Of course, during the war years, during the manpower shortage, the Nisei had all kinds of opportunities to get the kind of job that they would never expect to have back on the [West] Coast.

Chicago was one of the best reasons why so many stayed. Stayed there for the rest of their lives until they retired. And I guess the only reason why they retired and came back to the West Coast is because of the weather. Anyone who has lived out in the West Coast can spend 30, 40 winters in Chicago but, if they can afford to or want to, they'll come back to the West Coast where they don't have to fight the weather.

Togami

I always think that having been born and raised in southern California, I probably am much more critical about the weather, especially when I go elsewhere in the country.

Harry Honda

Very true.

Togami

So did most of these friends of yours in Chicago end up staying, even though you had left?

Harry Honda

Did they end up where?

Togami

End up staying in Chicago?

Harry Honda

Yeah, I would say more than half of my friends stayed in Chicago until they retired and then came west.

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Togami

During your brief stay in Chicago, where did you live, did you live on the North Side or the South Side?

Harry Honda

They called it the Near North Side. I was three blocks away from Clark and Division, which was the center of the Japanese— the Japanese gang, you might say, from the camps.

Togami

Now I heard that a lot of the housing in that area was typically run down, often in transitional areas between whites and African Americans. How did the hostel you were in compare with other hostels, or housing in the area?

Harry Honda

It was like a hostel. It was a brick, three-, four-story structure and it was on a good street, La Salle, which is one of the main thoroughfares of Chicago, no streetcars. Most of the streets that had streetcars would be run down because of traffic and noise. I guess on the streets the rails probably didn't help in keeping the road nice and smooth.

Togami

There is a sense of vastness about Chicago that I wonder if it could have really compared to Los Angeles during that time. Did you feel that kind of difference when you were there?

Harry Honda

Well, I think being there for only a half a year, you know, I really didn't get to know Chicago other than as far as the subways would go. Not too many people had cars to begin with. Chicago is still basically maybe 10 miles north and south and about four miles from the lake west, so it doesn't compare with what L.A., has area-wise.

In L.A., you needed a car to get around, whereas in Chicago you can get by with riding the buses, streetcar, the elevated [trains].

It's a lot more compact— it's just like people living in New York.

Togami

Sort of a different city mentality.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

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Togami

So when you took these subways and buses around Chicago, what areas did you typically visit?

Harry Honda

Well, most of my friends at that time were— there were a few out in the South Side where the University of Chicago is and there were some— quite a few where I was in the near North Side. Now further north there was maybe a few, very, very few.

In fact, I would say that most of the evacuees are people who resettled in Chicago on the South Side. And it was after— much later, maybe in the '50s, when they started to move to the north, because the South Side at that time was slowly becoming black.

Togami

Is this the Hyde Park-Kenwood area?

Harry Honda

Yes.

Togami

Back to your stay at the hostel, I understand that it was owned by the Catholic Youth Organization. Was the rent there pretty reasonable?

Harry Honda

It must have been because I stayed there for a half a year. At that time, I was collecting $20 a week from the Veterans Administration. They allowed that for veterans who were not working. $20 a week and it was good for one whole year. If you didn't have a job after one year, you were a sad case and they would write you off.

Togami

So the clock was ticking?

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Did the hostels serve meals, or did you have them elsewhere?

Harry Honda

Yes! We had an Issei lady who fed us breakfast and supper. So it was very comfortable living in that type of an environment. Of course we had friends come over and join us for supper.

Togami

She would cook for your friends too?

Harry Honda

Yeah, we were able to— we had a very comfortable life in Chicago. I had no bad feelings about the place.

Togami

It sounds like, in your living accommodations, you were very fortunate in the accommodations you had. There were, from what I hear, lots of housing shortage problems that people had to deal with. But you didn't see any of that?

Harry Honda

Yeah, but not in my case, no. Yeah, I was lucky I would say.

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Togami

You mentioned that you were looking for a newspaper job in Chicago, or that's what I understood.

Harry Honda

Well, yeah the whole idea at that time was— after I take the car back to California I was planning to return [to Chicago]. Togo Tanaka, who I knew before the war was there [in Chicago]. At that time, he was running a correspondence school operation [American School].

He was also talking about starting up a monthly newsmagazine.

So I was going to help work with him on that, that's what I had in mind to do. But it was still in the planning stages at that time. Now he did get that magazine off, it was called Scene. Must have been there for at least 10 years or so.

Togami

What types of stories or— ?

Harry Honda

Well, they were basically human-interest stories. If you remember Life Magazine, it was that kind of format, although not as large, but [it contained] pictures and stories about individuals. And they had, maybe— I would say, maybe eight pages of copy in Japanese. [In fact,] there were still a lot of Japanese-speaking resettlers in the Chicago area, so naturally they had magazines that were for both kinds of readers.

Togami

Is that why you wanted to do a pictorial essay? I think I read that in your article in Nanka Nikkei Voices.

Harry Honda

Yeah; that was part of that same magazine idea. We didn't know what to call it at that time and I had it in mind, talking it over with Mr. Tanaka. He was doing well with his correspondence school for education.

Togami

I understand also at that time, about late-1945, the Chicago Shimpo was just sort of starting out. Did you know about that?

Harry Honda

No, I didn't— to be honest with you, I didn't know that it existed. Only time I became aware of that paper was after I came back to the West Coast. Louise Suski

who used to be the English editor of the Rafu Shimpo, whom I knew, was also working for the General Mailing Company.

She often said that she was helping put out one page of English as a public service. She wasn't getting paid and she liked to just keep her hands in what was happening in the Nisei community. So she was helping out until they finally— I don't know

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when she left Chicago Shimpo—I have no idea when she left, but eventually they had other people come on staff and take over the publication.

Togami

I think we talked quite a bit about Chicago here. I wanted to move on, and talk about this road trip you took from Chicago. This is the road trip that eventually brought you back to Los Angeles.

Harry Honda

Well that was a trip that where I was asked to drive a car back, it was a Chevrolet coupe back— to Los Angeles. That trip— I have to look at a map, but we went from Chicago to Omaha, Nebraska, and visited Boys Town. I had some friends there. Pat Okura was one of them.

From Omaha we went to Cheyenne, Wyoming where I had— where I was stationed for a couple of months. And I met some of my Japanese friends in Cheyenne. Then we drove down to Denver, Colorado where the JACL convention was. From Denver, we went down to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and took Route 66 back to California.

And I had told my mother that I was bringing a car back, and then I'll visit and go back to Chicago. That's what I had in mind to do. As I wrote in the article [in Nanka Nikkei Voices], as soon as I was crossing the Colorado River at Needles, all thoughts of going back to Chicago just faded away.

It was March of '46. The weather must have been nice. When I got back home to L.A., the first thing I told my mom was, "I'm going to stay. I'm not going back to Chicago." So she was very happy to hear that. A couple of months later, I signed up on the GI bill to go to Loyola. So that took care of whatever plans I had for Chicago. They just got dropped out when I was crossing the Colorado.

Togami

It was good thing you were crossing Needles in the spring, your life choices may have been different had you traveled in the summer. (laughs)

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Did you encounter any problems with discrimination during your road trip?

Harry Honda

No, I don't recall any problems. The car must have been about— what, four years old? So it was in fairly good shape. Yeah, I think the— only thing I can remember is we stopped off for gas here and there. So I had no trouble, no problems, at all, driving the car back. I always had a second driver to take over so it was good.

Togami

Did you have any humorous moments during that trip?

Harry Honda

I don't recall any of that.

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Togami

Now you said you stopped in Denver to attend the first postwar JACL convention and I understand you were there as a booster?

Harry Honda

Yes.

Togami

What was your experience at the convention? What was it like?

Harry Honda

Being a veteran at the time, I placed myself on the Veterans Affairs Committee where I met people like Ben Kuroki

and George Inagaki. There was a fellow by the name of Joe Saito, and I got to know him very well. He was from Ontario, Oregon. You know, I can go down the list of others who served on that committee.

These were friends that I kept all through the years because of JACL. Denver, at the time, had enough snow on the mountains for skiing purposes, so my friend in Denver said, "Harry, let's go skiing." I said, "No way!" (laughter) I'm just good enough to be on roller skates let alone skis. Well, it was chance also for me to get acquainted with Mari Sabusawa, who later married Jim Michener.

And I remember a couple of nights she would be sitting in the middle of the two of us— and we would be talking about Nisei problems. And for the sake of argument we would say, why we shouldn't join JACL. And of course she was very upbeat about the importance of Nisei becoming part of the JACL picture, with its big program of evacuation claims, citizenship for the Issei, getting rid of the Japanese Exclusion Act,

restoring yen deposits.

There were people who had their money in the Japanese banks and their assets were frozen because of the war. Then the banks said they would pay depositors back in yen. Of course, before the war the yen was fifty cents to a dollar, but after the war was over, it took 360 yen to make $1.00 so, it was down to nothing. So JACL was trying to help those depositors, and by negotiation, they were able to raise it up to 10-to-one, rather than 360-to-one.

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There were all kinds of interesting projects going on. We didn't call it redress, but we called it reparations. Some said, and I was among them— that it would take another evacuation to set a precedent, a legal precedent for getting the government to pay.

The first time around was because of losses due to the war. But the second time around, if they would intern people because of their race, whether there was a war or not, we thought it was the better way of approaching the government to get some sort of reparation. We didn't know how much to ask for. But the whole idea of some type of reparations was even discussed in '46.

And of course, JACL really didn't get around to it until 1970, when they became very serious about asking for reparations. By that time the evacuation claims had been taken cared of, citizenship, immigration, and some of the other problems, Alien Land Law, Issei being allowed to work as fisherman, et cetera. It finally came down to this is one big problem that JACL could be involved in.

Togami

Now some of those issues that you discussed— there are quite a few issues. How was the convention able to focus their efforts in dealing with some of those problems?

Harry Honda

Well, the most important ones— the priority was for citizenship for Issei. And, at the same time, making it possible for reopening immigration. Now Japan only was allowed a hundred— about 150 immigrants per year as compared to 10,000, 15,000 from England, unlimited numbers from Canada and Mexico. Of course all that changed in 1965.

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Harry Honda

Japan and China and the other Asian countries had a token number of immigrants to emigrate to the U.S.

Kim

[Sojin Kim, videographer] I have one question. You said that you would argue reasons why not to join the JACL. What are some of the arguments that you made?

Harry Honda

The what?

Kim

You had said that for the sake argument you would—

Harry Honda

Well, the thing was, you know, I would argue for why I shouldn't become a JACL member, and Mari Sabusawa would talk about why you should be a member because of all this litigation. We didn't resolve anything; we just kept talking. It was a discussion. Of course the outcome was that the two of us on the outside, became very involved in JACL. (laughs)

Kim

What were your points of argument against joining?

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Harry Honda

I can't recall them now, but I would think that individual needs had to be taken cared of. In my case, looking for a job. The other guy I was with was going back to school. They're the kind of things that would take away from whatever free time a person would have to work in any kind of organization. But it was basically for the sake of argument just to get Mari mad or to get her more vocal or whatever it was, you know.

Togami

So you played devil's advocate?

Harry Honda

Yeah. In fact we were able to repeat, not the arguments, but we were able to get together when Denver had its national convention in ninety— I'd say '94. They had another convention so, there's almost fifty years. So I said, "Mari, we ought to get together. So we did get together. (laughs) Of course by that time, she was married to Jim Michener so she was— so treated us to a nice luncheon. (laughter)

Togami

Was the convention heavily attended? Were there many people?

Harry Honda

I would say about 300 people there at that time. I can't say that it was heavily attended but for the first postwar convention it wasn't bad, from the standpoint of gathering people together.

There is still a lot of sentiment in the Nisei community about how JACL sold them down the river, so to speak. Some bad feelings about JACL so far as war time activities. Denver at that time was like Chicago. There was a lot of— a lot of Japanese from all over. I'm sure there were more Nisei from outside of Denver living at the time, yeah.

Togami

Well, it sounds like Denver was the first area that filled up before Chicago—

Harry Honda

Very true, right.

Togami

Well, do you think that the convention was not as heavily attended because people were still logistically trying to pull themselves together?

Harry Honda

No, I don't think so. I can't think of any. JACL conventions— they were more for conducting business. Of course, they did have the Sayonara banquet and the dance, which probably had more than 300 people. Overall I would say about 300 people at the convention.

Togami

So it dealt more with certain platform issues, then?

Harry Honda

Yeah, right. Yeah.

Togami

Were there certain JACL chapters that you noticed that had attended the convention?

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Harry Honda

Yeah, what?

Togami

Were there certain JACL regional chapters that were represented at the convention?

Harry Honda

I don't recall any specific chapters. The only thing I can remember about a convention would be the individuals— irrespective of the chapters. And it's like that even to this day. A chapter could have [as many as] 10 to 15 present, but only two people could vote. So they were the ones that stood out on a national council floor.

And when it comes to lobbying there are particular point of views. They're the ones that approached different chapter delegates. The rest of us sit in and listen and socialize, perhaps. So the business of JACL convention was basically the delegates from the different chapters.

JACL at that time had no more than 50 chapters, and I would say that of the 50, maybe 10 chapters were proxy. So you had 40 to 50 people debating issues. The rest of us would be sitting in the back listening to what was going on. And as always there were things on the outside of the convention room. You could be chit-chatting away catching up, but it was the first convention. It was a chance for people to get acquainted, make new friends in '46.

Togami

Well from there after making a number of side trips, you went through Needles, crossed the Colorado River, and decided to stay in Los Angeles. What was postwar Los Angeles like when you first saw it?

Harry Honda

It was starting to change, because in '44, I was able to pass through L.A., on my way to Manzanar. Of course at that time, Little Tokyo was known as Bronzeville. The African-Americans from the Deep South had occupied Little Tokyo. But when I came back in middle of '46, early-'46, it started to change. S.K. Uyeda's the ten cents store was the first Japanese business in town.

Togami

But he wasn't native to Los Angeles, in Los Angeles— ?

Harry Honda

No, as I recall he was from San Francisco before the war. And I have to say this about the Japanese Issei that started up business in Little Tokyo. They were from out of town. Of those who were in business in '46, not all of them came back. Probably some had retired or passed away. Perhaps some didn't want to have to get back on their feet in L.A. I mean— I guess it was such a traumatic experience being kicked out, that they didn't want to come to L.A.

So Mr. Uyeda was from San Francisco. Mr. Takahashi was one of the Issei commercial fishermen, who was [by then] too old to go back to sea. He opened up Nisei Bowl, which was a coffee shop, fast food kind of place on South San Pedro Street. It was a hang out for the Nisei. So you had a lot of small restaurants.

There was a drugstore on First and San Pedro called Iwaki. It's no longer called Iwaki, but it was called Civic Cut Rate Drug Store. Anyway the owner was from

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Santa Maria. He opened up the corner drugstore and pharmacy. So this was an example of another guy from out of town.

I suppose if you looked at a 1945 telephone book, and looked at the names, perhaps you could spot the few who were here before the war. But there would be a lot of names you wouldn't recognize, unless they were Issei leaders like Mr. Katsuma Mukaeda and Mr. Gongoro Nakamura,

Mr. Sei Fujii of Kashu Mainichi, and Mr. H.T. Komai of the Rafu Shimpo.

Those people came back because they had an office where they could resume their work in the community. But some of the others started out again because their sons wanted to get back into business. Now like Asahi Shoe Store— if it wasn't for his son taking over, I don't think Mr. Shimizu, the old man would bother to reopen the operation.

A good friend of mine, Vincent Uyeda, ran Moon Fish before the war. There were already two other fish markets, Granada Fish and Modern Fish, in town. So he went out to Jefferson Boulevard, near Third Avenue, to reopen Moon Fish in the southwest part of town. I guess Toyo Miyatake,

the photographer, was probably the best known. He started again from where he left off.

I'm trying to think of some of the others— The Nakajimas of Empire Printing, the Hashimotos of Mikawaya. There were a few doctors that came back and reopened the Japanese Hospital,

which was in Boyle Heights. Dr. James Goto and Dr. Masako Kusayanagi were Nisei doctors. The Issei doctors included Dr. Kikuwo

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Tashiro, Dr. D. Kuroiwa, Dr. Ichioka, Dr. Paul Ito, Dr. M. Murase, Dr. Isami Sekiyama, and Dr. Kyoichi Isawa.

Togami

Well, do you think that, in some respects, because the Nisei were there, it allowed for the proliferation of Issei businesses in Little Tokyo? Was the presence of the Nisei there important for the Issei to open businesses?

Harry Honda

Yeah, I think that the father-son combination was a good one, you know, like Toyo Miyatake. His son, number one Archie, was the right hand man, you might say. Archie did all the running around. Toyo-san was able to sit in his studio, take pictures, and retouch the films. Another [father-son combination] was Fukui Mortuary.

We had some of the guys who were— who came over from Hawai'i before the war. They were working at the wholesale market. Then they went to camp where they met lot of L.A. people, so they resettled in L.A. And they got into other areas of work— insurance people, accountants. Most of the friends I knew from Hawai'i were in that area as service people. One was the late Kiyo Yamato, who revived the Nisei Week Festival in 1949.

Togami

After the war, your parents left Rohwer and settled in the Bunker Hill area of Los Angeles. What was that neighborhood like and were there many Japanese there?

Harry Honda

There were a lot of two-story homes, apartments, you might say. And I would say the Asian population was no more than ten percent. The only reason why we went back to that area was because we lived in that area before the war. The others who lived here, went back to Boyle Heights, or they went to the west side of town— West LA.

Some went down to Gardena.

There were so few of us [left from] before the war. I would say, it was the people who grew up in the area, [who actually] returned to the Bunker Hill area. But it was a temporary thing because the houses were old. If you had a shop, or you wanted a business elsewhere, you would naturally move to where your businesses were. Like in our case, my dad was a shoe repairman in the Bunker Hill area before the war. But by that time, the Bunker Hill area had become part of Civic Center.

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Many of the houses were being torn down to make room for county buildings. So the vendors that took care of my dad's business— leather, rubber heels, shoe repair equipment, had found a store, or a shop rather, out at Vernon and Figueroa, south of the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. So we moved out to a house, which was maybe three blocks away from the shop. We started to purchase the house.

The guy who took care of the real estate happened to be the first black assemblyman elected to Sacramento, Augustus Hawkins. Then [from assemblyman] he went from there to Washington, D.C. I would say that maybe after five years or so, we had to move out because the Harbor Freeway [Interstate Highway 110] was coming through. And so [because redevelopment] we got evacuated again.

I must say, even before the war, when my dad had his shop in the Temple and Figueroa area, we had a house halfway up the hill, north of Temple Street, which eventually was cleared away to make room for the four-level interchange.

(laughter)

So had evacuation not taken place, the Honda family would still have been evacuated. (laughter) So in our case we've been evacuated three times. Because— twice because of the freeways. From the Figueroa-Vernon area we moved further west, towards 39^th and Arlington, a good three to four west miles west. Not quite Leimert Park.

By that time, my dad decided to retire. He didn't want to go back. He said the shop was too far away for him to go, so he just gave up. He did all of his nail-pounding in the yard.

Togami

Well, obviously because of changes happening in postwar L.A., it sounds as if you moved a lot. But was the mobility of moving from place to place also because it was easier for Japanese Americans by then?

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Harry Honda

You know, it's hard to say that, because I don't think it was that hard. I mean those who grew up on a farm before the war, naturally couldn't go back. I mean farmland was being redeveloped into suburban housing. So it all depends on where you found a job.

The Issei tried to live as close as possible to their place of work. I'm sure a lot of people have stayed in one place until the house got too small, and [then] the family started to grow and they would move out. It would be very interesting to find out how often the Nisei families moved after they came back.

Togami

In what areas of Los Angeles did you know that Japanese American families were living besides, let's say, Little Tokyo?

Harry Honda

Well, you know, Boyle Heights. They were there through, I would say, the 1970s. The kids, who grew up in Boyle Heights, after they got out of college, would probably move out to wherever their jobs took them. The southwest part of town [Seinan District] was also a thriving area. Again it was basically an Issei area. So once the Nisei got out of college, they would move out.

West L.A. was another popular place, also the San Fernando— San Fernando Valley.

Those in Boyle Heights— a lot of them went to Monterey Park in the late-'50s.

It would be very interesting to get a map, a census map, perhaps, to see where Japanese concentration or even [what] Asian concentrations existed every ten years. You could see the shift in population. It was basically because of growing families. Neighborhoods with good schools attracted them to certain areas.

Togami

Looking at housing characteristics were certain areas different from others, let's say Boyle Heights as compared to the southwest?

Harry Honda

Well, the houses were both about the same style, about the same age, because Boyle Heights, the southwest, uptown, and the east Hollywood area were all nice areas even before the war. But after the war they started to age, so Japanese and Asian families started to move out to West L.A., Monterey Park. Some of the other areas might be places like Gardena, and all the different places in the San Fernando Valley, like Pasadena

—

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Togami

When do you think you started seeing that move to the suburban fringes of the city?

Harry Honda

The what?

Togami

When do you think it was that these families started to move further away from the city of Los Angeles?

Harry Honda

I would say in the late-'50s and into the '60s. Before that they had been in LA for about 10 years, and by that time they would have had some idea where they wanted to move. There was tract housing starting to pop up. One of the areas was developed around the Holiday Bowl

on Crenshaw.

There were two streets built for specifically for the Nisei— Norton and Bronson, from Exposition to 39^th Street. So you had— you're talking about one, two, three— five, six blocks of housing. And some of them had a very distinct Oriental motif to them. I notice we still have Nisei families living in those places.

Togami

Were they typically younger families living in those places?

Harry Honda

Yeah, at that time, yes. Yes, because the houses were three-, four-bedroom types. There were apartments that leased two, three bedrooms.

Togami

I want to also talk about the job situation in Los Angeles at the time. Did you see any occupational changes in postwar Los Angeles, especially between 1946-'50? That period of time has been described as the boom years of Los Angeles. Had any of your friends done particularly well?

Harry Honda

You know the thing that stands out for that particular era was the women. They had already come with the reputation of being excellent secretaries. So there was always a demand for Nisei women in the secretarial field, whether it be school or city government, or even the private sector.

Gardening was also a lucrative field. Issei would be helping out their sons on the gardening route, or vice-versa. The thing about being a gardener is that you really needed no capital other than a pickup truck, and a couple of dollars to buy equipment, and then make the rounds. And if you did a good job, there's no problem in picking up accounts. Besides gardening and secretarial, the produce stands were not as hectic as before the war.

The Nisei who worked in the produce stands were recruited into unions. So the concept of joining unions started to take on. There were also many that went into civil service; there was always a big crew of Nisei in the post office. Some were

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able to get into another activity, but as I recall, there were more Nisei in post office work.

Togami

I think we actually have somebody, I think, from the San Diego region in the REgenerations Project who worked in the post office.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Now I understand that you worked for a while at the county assessor's office.

Harry Honda

Yeah that was before school started. (laughs) I got back from Chicago in March. And school didn't start till September. Naturally I applied for a clerical job with the County of Los Angeles. So they put me into the county assessor's office. I could see at that time, a lot of people were buying houses.

We would have to post the changes of the new owners of the houses and track them down by tracts. We had to go through big, big books [about 28 inches wide, 21 inches high, and one and one-half inches thick], to locate the tract by number. And a lot of paper work, yes. But that was just a temporary job for me until school started.

Togami

What was the application process like?

Harry Honda

Oh, I don't recall other than a routine filling out of some forms— if you passed whatever written test that there was, had a good handwriting, whatever. I didn't have any problems. It was not a dull job because it was something brand new; it was something I had never done before.

Togami

Did you see a lot of Nisei working in the assessor's office or various county offices at the time?

Harry Honda

Well, yeah there were quite a few. Yes. For a while, the county was looking for help, anyway. I suppose some of them were, like in my case, waiting for school to start in the fall. Working for the post office, was something else. It would take more training, and more skills were involved. It depended on your ability to sort out the mail real fast. You had to memorize all the different bins to see where your different slots were.

Togami

By looking at some of the county records that you had to examine on a daily basis, were you able to evidence whether a lot of Japanese American families moving to certain areas?

Harry Honda

No, I don't recall that at all, yeah.

Togami

We want to shift our topic of discussion and talk to you, now, if possible, about your college years. I understand that you enrolled at Loyola University in the fall of 1946 to study political science. Were your parents supportive in your choice of study?

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Harry Honda

Yes, they were. I think because the fact that I was on the GI bill, there were no expenses involved other than getting to and from school. I was fortunate in having fellows who lived north of me who picked me up. We would commute that way out to Westchester.

At the time, there was maybe a student body of about, I would say, 1,500 to 2,000. Most of them were veterans. We were the first large class of veterans— World War II veterans of '46. There were two other Nisei veterans in our class, Thomas Ishikawa and Tosh Kumamoto. So there were three of us altogether.

Togami

You were typically older than the other students were?

Harry Honda

Oh, the veterans were all maybe four or five years older than the typical freshmen out of high school. We had some of the guys— the veterans were as old as some of the instructors. So a lot of the time— I'll use this situation: the instructor would listen what to the students had to say about the war. (laughter) Yeah. I think, it being an all-boys school, there was a lot of horseplay— all in good fun, of course.

Those who were able to stay at the dorm probably had a lot more fun because we were commuting in and out. But I think the guys who stayed at the dorm were students who came from out of town, out of the country. We had two, three people from Asia, from China. Two classmates of mine were from the Panama Canal Zone, Phelan and Remedios, who spoke fluent Spanish. They would cuss up the professor in Spanish sometimes: what a dumbbell, or something like that.

Togami

Were you living at home?

Harry Honda

Yes, all the time! I was a commuter. From L.A. to Loyola, at that time, it must have been about 15 miles from the center of town? And it was very interesting. One Irish fellow, John Reilley— we were riding back and forth for what, a couple of years. This third guy, he says, "Harry, I thought for sure, in the two years that we're riding back and forth that a discussion would come up about the fact that John was prisoner of war. A Japanese prisoner of war." (laughs )

He thought that John would have made some nasty remarks or some unexpected remarks 'cuz I happened to be Japanese American, but it never came up, it never came up. I didn't know this until the third guy told me. So when we graduated together, he still didn't talk about the fact that he was a prisoner of war— the fact that we rode in and out of class together. We became fast friends.

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He wound up as a principal in the L.A. school district and became one of their administrators. I used to see him once in a while, like class reunions and that type. So we were good fast friends. And the other guys that used to ride together, we still keep in touch after 50 years. I'm looking forward to my 50^th anniversary next year in 2000. (laughs)

Togami

I often wonder how I've lost touch with all my high school friends. That's wonderful.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Well, you graduated from college in 1950?

Harry Honda

Yes.

Togami

Then you decided, at that point, that you wanted to go full-time into journalism?

Harry Honda

No, I was planning to study law because of political science. I did take one quarter of law school at Loyola Law School. I had passed the Scholastic Law Aptitude test. I had no problem with that, but I told the professor, I said I just can't hack memorizing all the pages, so I think I'd better drop.

So I dropped and then I went to work for this friend of mine who was from Chicago. He was the English editor, Mas Imon. He was the English editor of the Shin Nichibei [ New Japanese American News], which was then on Second Street in L.A. I was his assistant in 1950.

Then in 1952, the JACL decided to move the Pacific Citizen to Los Angeles. The editor, at that time, Larry Tajiri, didn't want to come back to L.A. 'cuz he liked the environment and all the other nice things about the Rocky Mountains. So he resigned.

The JACL National Council had determined that PC would come to L.A. So it came to L.A. without an editor. Mr. [Saburo] Kido, who was advising the publisher of the Shin Nichibei wanted to get the Pacific Citizen printed at that plant, the Shin Nichibei plant. And since I was already there, he asked me to be the editor.

So I had people like Kats Kunitsugu

help me out. Some of the other people that used to help out at the Shin Nichibei would help with delivering, and taking care of the circulation records, et cetera. I was able to get the paper off and running that October.

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[question not recorded]

Harry Honda

So I'm still here with the Pacific Citizen as editor emeritus.

Togami

That's a big responsibility to be offered. Did you feel that it was daunting in any way?

Harry Honda

Well, the nice thing about the Pacific Citizen—I knew Larry Tajiri from before the war. So he was able to guide me, tell me what to look for, the kind of stuff we should have, and try to keep up the format that he had. Since we are both from the old school, that names make news, we followed the system. So I've been very happy with the way things have turned out.

Togami

I guess, maybe, I should have asked you this earlier, but I'll go ahead and ask you now. Why did you want to be a journalist?

Harry Honda

Well that's very interesting. In the 11^th grade, before the war, if one passed B11 English, which was composition— and I passed it. In the second half of eleventh grade you had a choice. You could either take English lit, or American lit, or theatre, or any number of other courses, journalism being one of them.

And the guy that sat in front of me also had the option of taking whatever, because we both passed 11^th-grade English. And he said to me, "Journalism is an easy course!" So that's how come I got started and became involved with the newspaper. I was told it was an easy course.

Togami

Did you actually find it an easy course?

Harry Honda

I didn't flunk it, let's put it that way (laughter).

Togami

I remember I took a course in journalism in high school and we worked together. It was hectic, but very satisfying.

Harry Honda

Yes.

Togami

Do you think, back on the journalism route again. Do you think working for a smaller community newspaper allowed you a greater opportunity to assume more responsible tasks in news production and the newspaper production? Did you have other aspirations to work for bigger newspapers?

Harry Honda

In the '50s, journalism in the newspaper was still basically a white man proposition. So the Nisei vernaculars were able to attract people who liked to stay in the newspaper business. A number of them— it was said families that couldn't support a family on newspaper, Japanese newspaper pay. So I'm sure they went into other fields, you know working for government, or post office, or whatever.

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But in my case I was still single, and I liked to work, so I stayed with it. I think, the thing about being at the Pacific Citizen, unlike Rafu Shimpo was that I had the chance of meeting a lot of people from around the country as opposed to just around town. To me, getting around the country was a plus— just to go to cover a national convention. We went all over to wherever the convention might be, Chicago or San Francisco, Seattle, Portland. So I think from that standpoint the PC provides a world of contacts around the Japanese American community.

Today PC still is the house organ for JACL. It has expanded its focus to Asian American issues and that's where the paper is going— Asian American issues, and trying to report on events that seldom would make the national newspaper or the great metropolitan press, although it's starting to change. You see a lot of Asian bylines in the newspapers today, covering all sorts of events.

But still the Asian community newspapers continue covering some of the issues that we confront. So there is a need for Asian or ethnic newspapers, a weekly. Or it could be what I see now coming out on Internet— although I don't play with it. Young people more and more are not reading as much newspaper-wise, print media. But they'll go to the computer and find what they want— read what they want as opposed to flipping a lot of pages that they are not interested in.

Togami

What do you think of that personally? Do you consider yourself a print purist?

Harry Honda

I think myself being in the print media all my life. There's something about the print media that once it's printed, it stays. Whereas on the computer it's there, but you scroll the screen. If you want something you've got to scroll through text. So it depends on how you are raised, if you are satisfied with the little bit of information you can get from the monitor as opposed to print, so be it.

Togami

Well to me, nonprinted forms of information don't seem to have that sense of permanence. I don't know quite how to describe that but, when it's there, it's there. Whereas, for instance, when something is posted on the Internet, it could change quickly at any given time.

Harry Honda

Oh yes; it depends on what kind of information you are looking for, right? If you are looking for news, it's on television. You might not get the full picture, but at least you have an idea of what's happening. I think anybody that is used to reading books, novels, newspapers should be no problem. I don't know.

But it seems to me that the print media is also a good avenue for advertising, otherwise, people like the Los Angeles Times wouldn't carry those full page ads in the paper, or even the Wall Street Journal. Some of these other— even USA Today has a lot of full page advertising on just one item or a couple of items. So there's something about some of the trash in the print media that will never be replaced by any other form of information.

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I don't think we'll ever see a day where we'll have a lot of newspapers in one community. But every big town would have at least one newspaper, big newspaper, which may be good or not good depending on your politics. But advertising-wise, people rely on print. I think, people are aware of the fact that we get a lot of junk mail, another form of print.

We're in that type of economy here in America. We're not at that barter system. Some would want to go— or I don't know how many— to a swap meet. Some people are happy looking for things at the swap meet. Or they'll go to Farmers Market, looking for whatever there is to eat rather than going to and stocking up at the supermarket.

Togami

If I can just push back a little bit, during the prewar period you wrote for both the Rafu Shimpo and also a publication called the Sangyo Nippo. With respects to the Sangyo Nippo, what kind of a paper was it? What it was its readership base?

Harry Honda

Sangyo Nippo was a morning newspaper. At that time in the late-'30s, there were three newspapers: two afternoon newspapers and one morning paper. Sangyo Nippo was a paper supported by farmers who would send their produce to the market. They wanted to know what the prices were at the wholesale market— what the tomatoes were being sold for, et cetera.

Whereas the afternoon papers, they would get the same information, but it would be in the paper the following day as opposed to Sangyo Nippo which was a morning paper. They both went out at noon, to get the prices— the quotes at the different commission houses.

Well the Rafu Shimpo and Kashu Mainichi, by the time they got back, their paper would be rolling out for the afternoon. And so the prices for the day would not be in that day. The Sangyo Nippo didn't start their day until three in the afternoon, so they were able to report the latest prices for the readers the following morning.

The Sangyo Nippo was basically a paper supported by farmers; therefore, it had a lot of stuff about farms, farm activity. Even a section, as I recall, had a lot of Japanese news stuff, because we had access to Japanese press items. In the late-thirties, Japan was at war with China. It was not emphasis, but at least they made the headlines. The main stories of the day would be the progress of the Japanese Army in China. (laughs)

Togami

So was it more sort of Issei , pro-Japanese— ?

Harry Honda

Well the English section was definitely Nisei , but the Japanese, I don't know, what they had 'cuz I don't read enough Nihongo [Japanese] to say which way. But it was basically a farmer's newspaper. I'm sure they had what was happening in the community. They probably had their fiction columns. I think the Japanese section was no different from what was in the Rafu or Kaishu Mainichi.

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And the Sangyo Nippo was actually— we had— before I got there, we had a fellow named Joe Oyama. He was the first English editor who started that paper. His sister is Molly Oyama [Mary Mittwer]

who wrote columns during the prewar in the San Francisco and L.A. papers called "Deirdre." She was very active in the community and very liberal-minded. She was for women's rights when they didn't call it that. She was always speaking for the young ladies. Gossip once in a while. During the postwar, her column that was printed in the Pacific Citizen was called "Smoglites."

Togami

Did she voice her political of views at all?

Harry Honda

Yeah, it all began together. Sangyo Nippo was also a paper that went to battle the Tokyo Club,

which was a gambling center for Little Tokyo. It so happened that Tokyo Club and a part of the Sangyo Nippo was being printed in the same building in Yamato Hall. And I don't know why, I think his name is Mr. Murai, who was a philosopher, but he always didn't say good things about Tokyo Club.

Now the other newspapers didn't say anything about Tokyo Club. Evidently, Tokyo Club had enough influence in the community so that Japanese newspapers would not speak ill of the operation. For one thing the Tokyo Club— on weekends the farmers would come in, eat, and gamble away whatever they had. Tokyo Club always made sure that they had enough money to get back home over the weekend.

Togami

They would gamble—

Harry Honda

They would gamble away their stuff, but they always had a ticket to get back on the red car, or whatever, to get taken back. It was like a soup kitchen during the day, during the week, I would say. The story goes that there were a lot of struggling Issei artists. Tokyo Club would always buy a painting, or whatever it was. So that was one way young Issei artists were able to survive.

Togami

Do you recall any of the artists?

Harry Honda

Hmm?

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Togami

Do you recall any of the artists?

Harry Honda

No, I don't recall who they were, but that's the way it was like in the late-thirties.

Togami

What type of gambling did they have at the Tokyo Club?

Harry Honda

I've never been upstairs so I can't tell you. But I imagine the typical Japanese Issei liked hana.

There must have been some bean games. I don't know if they had dice and stuff. You gotta go to someone who has been up there. (laughs)

Togami

Maybe, nobody would admit it. (laughs) Was it typically male?

Harry Honda

Yeah, I would say [it was] a men's club.

Togami

How long did that last?

Harry Honda

It never revived after the war.

Togami

So it was in operation until the evacuation?

Harry Honda

Yeah, until the evacuation, yes. If you read up on Little Tokyo history, you'll find out that the Tokyo Club, just like the Tokyo Club in Seattle, was started by a man who hated to see the Issei gamble away all their money at the Chinese places. You know the Chinese used to have these— like lotto, you might call it, where you scratch off and— like keno games in Las Vegas today.

They would have a morning run of numbers and one in the afternoon. And these guys would make their rounds of the shops and pick up the bets and they would come back in the afternoon and show them their receipts. If they won they'd pay them off. It was a good thing for the Issei. They like to gamble. So that's how come the Tokyo Clubs were developed, plus providing sustenance in-between, huh?

Togami

(laughs) I think I sidetracked a little bit because it was interesting.

Harry Honda

Yeah; that's not REgenerations, for sure.

Togami

No! (laughter) During your senior year in college it was mentioned in your first interview that you helped Saburo Kido at the New Japanese American News.

Harry Honda

Yes.

Togami

Was it similar to the Rafu Shimpo? How long did it last?

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Harry Honda

Well, all Japanese vernaculars were similar. The only difference would be the equipment. The Rafu Shimpo always did have a modern, not that modern, but a newspaper printing process for that. It was called a rotary press, whereas the other two papers were flatbed presses.

Now the rotary press is much faster in producing the paper, whereas the flatbed was, maybe, a lot slower I would say— I don't know how much slower— but the printing on the rotary press was clean, very legible. Whereas on the flatbed— because the flatbed would go back and forth over the print, over the type. It would wear out the type.

Japanese type on a flatbed— before the war anyway— would wear out over a period of time, so you couldn't— or it was very hard to read the worn out Japanese characters. Whereas the rotary press— what they did was they were able make a paper cast of the page— they call it stereotyping.

What they did with the paper cast, they were able to shape it, half-moon shape and pour hot metal lead into that, trim it, and put that on a press so that at least the Japanese characters wouldn't wear out as fast. And it was just that one roll over that type, you know. Whereas [for] the front-page on a flatbed— if it ran off 5,000 copies, you would be going back and forth, back and forth. It would wear out over a period of time.

So the Rafu Shimpo always did have an advantage in that it provided a very legible [newspaper] for the Issei. The Japanese characters can be very messy when they got worn down. You couldn't read it. So that's where the Rafu Shimpo had it over all the newspapers before the war.

Togami

So you think that people would have wanted to subscribe to a newspaper that they could read— ?

Harry Honda

Yeah, one that they could read, yes. Today we don't have that problem. Everybody's cold-type offset, so nobody has any problem really today.

Togami

Were there any differences in coverage between— ?

Harry Honda

I think the Rafu Shimpo was— since they had more people on staff, naturally they were able to cover more events. They may have had maybe two or three people covering a big event, some social event. Whereas the other paper, they had only one reporter, or nobody else for that matter. The Rafu was always the big paper, and still is today, by far, if you look at the Japanese section.

Togami

In also in your first interview, you talked about the large number of moves the PC made from one office to another.

Harry Honda

A what?

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Togami

A large number of moves from place to another for the PC. Was it because of space considerations that you moved so often?

Harry Honda

Yeah. Definitely, space plus the fact that we were growing. When we first started, we had three people. I had an office that was maybe half this size. Advertising was handled by the JACL regional director, who was in another separate room. And the person in charge of mailing was also doubling up as the regional office secretary, because at that time we had no more than, say, 2,000 subscribers. That was very easy to handle. And after 1960 when subscriptions doubled to about 6,000, it started to climb [another] maybe 1,000, 2,000 per year.

By the eighties, we were running close to 20,000. By that time we needed someone full-time just to take care of circulation and the mail. We needed another person to take care of bookkeeping. We needed another person to take care of advertising and try to get one or two people to help you out editorially. So because everybody would have a desk, we had to move.

When we decided to set type in-house in 1976, that meant we needed more space. We started setting our own type from about the mid-seventies, so that meant two more people. So every place we went, we just needed elbow room.

Togami

Now I understand that I think it was on your fourth move of the PC office, that you were in the Nishi Hongwanji temple in Little Tokyo. Do you remember what the condition of the building was like?

Harry Honda

Well, at that time the building was not the Nishi Hongwanji. They moved out in the '50s, I think it was the '50s, or '60s. City Hall wanted to widen the First Street, but there was a big battle to save the north side because it was the only thing left in the way of historic Little Tokyo.

So Nishi Hongwanji was then asked how would they— what plans did they have if ten feet was taken out off the front of the building? And the Nishi Hongwanji people said, "If we can get property in the back, we can stay there." The city said, "No we can't do that." So the Nishi Hongwanji decided to leave. They sold the property to the city.

In the meantime, while in this building we had a couple of little earthquakes come along. I'm still trying to recall what year it was. It must have been back there in the '60s when the CRA, Community Redevelopment Agency,

was making a survey of

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all the buildings that had to be removed by eminent domain to make room for Little Tokyo redevelopment.

There was an earthquake that rattled down Third Street, which had lot of industrial-type buildings. And it was so severe that windows were broken; a lot of bricks in the front fell off. So an earthquake must have saved the city some money in demolishing the brick buildings. I can't recall when that earthquake took place, but that was in the sixties sometime.

At that time, that earthquake shook Nishi Hongwanji to such a point that it was condemned, unfit for people to move in. We were at the Sun Building at that time. The Sun Building had to be torn down because it blocked the back door of the New Otani Hotel that was about to be completed.

All the tenants in the Sun Building raised hell and said, "Where can we go? This is perfect for us. We don't have to pay high rent." So the city said, "Well, you can move into the Hongwanji building at a dollar a year." Here we were paying $100, $200 a month. But the Nishi Hongwanji building had been condemned because of the earthquake. So we took our chances moving into that place.

And, in the meantime, JACCC [Japanese American Cultural and Community Center] was being built and that was a place that was going to be open for all the tenants of the Sun Building that were nonprofit agencies. JACCC was going to house non-profit, social, cultural groups— community groups. So while we were waiting for that place to get finished, we stayed in the Sun Building and then the Nishi Hongwanji building.

To show you how rickety the place was, every time the RTD bus came up First Street, from Alameda, and made that turn towards San Pedro, the building would shake. (laughter) We were there about three years and then we moved over. So the building was empty for maybe about five, six years and then the museum [Japanese American National Museum] took over.

Togami

Why did the PC office eventually move from Los Angeles to Monterey Park?

Harry Honda

Well, then it was a question of room. The other thing was our downtown PC office at Third and Alameda, in the Neptune Building, was burglarized twice. They took away the computers and trashed the office. Richard Suenaga, who was our editor at that time, said that with the holiday issue coming up, we've got to work at night. I was afraid that someone was going to come along and hit us over the head. Rather than wait for something like that to happen, we decided to move.

The person who was in charge of looking for another place to stay had two places— downtown by the original Pantry, in a high rise building, and this place [the Monterey Park site]. First one was over there on Coral Circle, half a block away. I said to Richard, "The rent might be a little cheaper for the first year if we are downtown, but it would be hard to justify PC being in a real nice place, nice part of

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the city, downtown, et cetera. (laughs) But we would have to pay parking, $10 a month, or whatever it was. But if we moved here [to Monterey Park], parking is provided. I think the rent structure [here] was more to what we allowed, budget-wise. It would meet our operations. So that's the reason why we moved here.

Togami

You moved here to Monterey Park in '92 or— ?

Harry Honda

Yeah, it was about '92, yes, that we moved from there to here.

Togami

Okay, I wanted to also touch a bit on the JACL, and their shift in emphasis during the postwar. In the 1950s, the JACL moved from being a service organization to more of a political, civil rights organization. Given how politics can be divisive and dicey, do you think that it's been difficult for JACL to continue to be activists?

Harry Honda

First of all, JACL unlike what it was like during the war years or right before the war, especially in the L.A. area, there were so many other organizations that were doing the kind of work that the JACL was involved in before the war. So it was only natural for JACL in L.A. to get involved with other organizations— going into issues more than before. Of course, there were more issues to get involved in after the war.

Whereas if you went, say, to a small community, some rural community where JACL is the only thing going for the Japanese community, there it would still be like it was before the war. Service, social, a little bit of politics, engaging in public relations work on behalf of the Japanese community overall.

The JACL in the rural areas was at least, an umbrella kind of group. If there was a Christian church or a Buddhist church in the community, the JACL would try to take care of both members. And it was a place where a lot of the Issei were able to gather once a year, twice a year, thanks to the Nisei who appreciated the fact that they were the pioneers. Today, of course, the Issei are gone, but I'm talking about say in the '50s.

The rural chapters had a much more— they were more community-conscious in trying to be helpful, as opposed to the urban chapter which was into issues— coalitions, perhaps, politics. It was that kind of broader education— getting involved in U.S -Japan title affairs, especially if a chapter had Kibei

active— people that could read what was in the Japanese press. So there were two different roles for JACL chapters, depending on where they were geographically.

Today we not only have geographic, but we have the age factors, along with mixed marriage factors. So JACL is— while it can't be all things to all people, at least depending on the leadership, the chapters will go where the leaders will take them. It seems to me that some chapters have strong leaders and others don't. So I'm happy

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that we have some real dedicated, strong leaders who are willing to train others to follow.

I think one of the best signs of a strong chapter would be to look at the holiday issue. The holiday issue contains 120 pages of ads and stories and pictures. And the chapters that have a lot of ads show just how well organized they are in the community. Some of the people that have been helping us out year after year are the kind of people that would be doing the same kind of thing for other organizations as the need arises.

Togami

Having said that, how does an organization like the JACL and the Pacific Citizen as its printed voice deal with that kind of vast diversity of issues? Pretty much the same way?

Harry Honda

Are you talking about the future?

Togami

No, no, the sort of varied, different things. You were just saying that JACL can't be everything to everybody.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

Would you say that would be the same, in terms of the paper too?

Harry Honda

I think it depends on leadership. Some leaders have a certain agenda, and it is easy for them to pursue that agenda. I think that's the way to go now. And hopefully they can attract enough followers so that they can push the program through. So there are a lot of human factors in place.

Some people will make use of a chapter for personal gain— to get themselves well known in the community and score their so-called brownie points by service. And JACL has been around enough years now so that within the overall community, at least they know what JACL stands for, what it tries to do. And if they don't, at least it is real simple to— for a member to explain what's in store for the community from the standpoint of a JACL perspective.

Togami

With respect to looking at history, I think that at many times, certainly decades are characterized by the news events that are within it. We already know that the 1940s were a time of great disruption and hardship for Japanese Americans. Based on the stories covered in the PC, how would you characterize the '50s, '60s, '70s and '80s?

Harry Honda

Well, in the '50s, the passage of Walter-McCarran Act was one of the big projects for JACL right after the war. It meant citizenship for the Issei, repeal of the Immigration Exclusion Act, and evacuation claims. There weren't too many, what I would say, overall issues, that would excite a lot of people after that. So the leaders of the late-'50s and '60s were trying to keep the organization together, as if waiting for something to happen.

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So you had things like scholarship come along to fill up part of the program here. And scholarship was a big thing. Of course the families were growing up. I mean your kids were growing up, and are still thriving today. Some of the other things would be youth programs.

For a while there was an effort to send your kids, Sansei kids, to Washington, D.C., for a leadership conference for one week. There they would meet some of the Japanese Americans who were in office, Congress, and make the rounds of the different federal offices, as well as sightsee around the Washington, D.C. area.

The young kids would come back with a good sense of what makes Washington tick and help broaden their horizons, other than looking for a job here on the West Coast. They could find something back east. By the '60s, JACL had strong chapters back east as well as here. So you saw Sansei who grew up back east. They wanted to come out to the West Coast.

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[question not recorded]

Harry Honda

So we had some very interesting youth conferences in the Midwest and the intermountain group. That happened to be the kind of midway point for students and junior JACLers to get together. Rather than having someone from back east paying a big fat travel fee to come west, they would meet them halfway in Salt Lake City. So the youth conferences were interesting in that respect, by meeting midway.

Now with so many youth on the West Coast and the leadership being on the West Coast, the youth conferences are being held in Southern California. And I think maybe the youngsters from the Midwest and back east don't mind coming out to the West Coast 'cuz it appears this is where all the action is taking place. But I still think it's important for West Coast Sansei to get into the Midwest and Intermountain areas to see what it's like to be in a community where you are the only Asian face in the crowd, as opposed to Southern California.

Togami

It seems to be increasingly more difficult to do.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

So those types of events were pretty much reported in the PC?

Harry Honda

Yeah. And by the time the '70s came around, we had aging problems. The word "gerontology" was being kicked around a lot. And they were not talking about aging Issei , but they were talking about aging Nisei in the seventies. So programs started to pop up on what to do in retirement, and some of the JACL chapters were into building retirement homes. Travel programs became popular. And to this day you see a number of travel agencies advertise in the PC all of their different tours that are available for the year.

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Then you have— nowadays you still have Nikkei singles programs, we have the hapa

issues. So the programs dealt with, other than hate crimes, as we call them today. Race discrimination will be around for a long time, I think, and these were things that were happening before the war. In another L.A. program, the whole idea was keeping the community together somehow.

Perhaps, a very interesting prospect for what JACL can do in the years to come is that if there are enough Sansei leaders in JACL around who want to maintain this Asian community, they can offer workshops. Workshops and workshops with teachers to make sure that the Japanese American story will not be forgotten. I think the other thing would be, maybe it's not for the JACL to do, but emphasize the importance of cultural heritage.

And in another case, for the last 10 years, I've been promoting getting to know the Nikkei in South America and Canada. We have this organization called Pan American Nikkei Association, and they meet every odd numbered year. This year, in 1999, it's going to be held in Santiago, Chile. It's good to meet Nikkei from other countries, compare notes, and listen to the interesting things they have to say.

JACL was instrumental in getting this organization together in 1980. And once it got on track, it was off and running. Then JACL got into the redress campaign in the mid-'80s. As JACL was focusing on all that, they stepped out from the international picture. But since I like to travel, I'm pushing it.

Togami

(laughs) We knew that from the blue coupe days. In looking back and reflecting on the Los Angeles Japanese American community, I found that when I was here this past Monday, there was an interesting story in an old issue of the Pacific Citizen written by Togo Tanaka. You were mentioned in a resettlement article. And in the article, both you and Togo Tanaka held different positions on integration and assimilation. In your case, you considered those who advocated integration or assimilation to be unrealistic—

Harry Honda

You're talking about— this is in the '40s, huh?

Togami

Well, this was in a July 19, 1947, article in the Pacific Citizen. In it you talked about unrealistic aspects of integration, assimilation, while Togo Tanaka viewed assimilation differently.

Harry Honda

I think Togo Tanaka was coming from Chicago at that time where they had the advantage of making a better living— they were able to support themselves ahead those who came out of camp and were just getting started in L.A., at that time. I

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guess, my thought at that time was that it was important for the Nisei community to find themselves and try to maintain community life.

Assimilation, I thought, at that time, was just merely [a way] to disperse our numbers to the point of where we don't know each other. So I think that was one of my reasons why I thought that assimilation was unrealistic. The same thing occurred in the '60s, or maybe late-'50s or '60s, when the Methodist church decided to get rid of all their Japanese churches. Not get rid of the church, but I mean the Japanese conference, which was the conference of Japanese churches. The objective was to have them mix in with an existing conference in their particular area.

At one time, all the Japanese Methodist churches would gather once a year from Spokane, Seattle, down to L.A., San Francisco, and parts of Denver, Salt Lake. They would gather and the person who was in charge of the conference was able to appoint ministers for other churches when their time came up. They would be moved around every three, four years to other churches within the conference. I think in the fifties they decided to assimilate and spread out.

Evidently, the Japanese conference was having problems maintaining itself, so it was time to have— like the church in L.A.— to become a part of the geographical conference for Southern California. There's one up in San Francisco for Northern California, and one in Seattle for the Pacific Northwest. But it didn't last. You saw some of the Nisei ministers then saying that they were losing the community as far as the Japanese church goes. So they started to come back.

Elimination of a Japanese conference didn't pan out as expected. So now you see Japanese churches are back in style. Some of the Methodist churches that came up in the '70s, '80s were bigger than ever. They didn't have to build up in J-Town under the old rule. They would still be out in the southwest part of town. I think that's what probably happened.

But somehow, if you ask the Issei and Nisei, one of the ways to remember your roots is to maintain what you have, and what little there is. You must maintain what you have, so that the Sansei, Yonsei

can remember where they came from, you might say.

When you stop and consider that the Japanese Americans were the only ones to be locked up by the government in camps during World War II, you realize that no other group of people in American history have been put in that kind of situation. So there's where America was unique.

I toss my hat off to the American Indians— Native Americans who are trying to get their land back. In exercising their rights to ownership of land, the tribes want to do

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whatever they want within their own reservations— within their own territory, and now with their casinos.

There is a place for keeping specific ethnic or indigenous communities alive and together, for America is not just one same single ethnic, but a diversified community. Where else in the world can you find a country with so many different last names from different places? Now we are getting used to Albanian names, right?

Togami

Yeah.

Harry Honda

Yeah.

Togami

So do you think that during the postwar years, the way in which the Japanese American community developed in Los Angeles, in their unique way, they were able to retain a lot more. Were they able to hold on to some of their cultural traditions, and retain or refashion them?

Harry Honda

I think it is only natural, because you have people who are interested in their cultural arts. People want to keep their community together through education. The taiko

groups are a good example. How the young people picked up on it is amazing to me. The only time when we had taiko pounding away was in our prewar days at Obon dances. (laughs)

Togami

It sounds, as if, the Japanese American community has refashioned itself through the years, but it's always remembered that there has been a history and heritage here.

Harry Honda

But I think it is only human. Humanity or what is it? Family tradition should be maintained and passed along. Of course it evolves from time to time, but it is the whole idea of being able to pass down what your memories were like. Maybe this oral history is part of that.

Togami

We hope it will be.

Harry Honda

Yeah, yeah.

Togami

Well, do you have any other comments that you would like to add before we close?

Harry Honda

Well, I think how you make use of— how you implement, how you make use of the material that we're collecting here, how is it going to be made available to the wider community one of these days ought to be explored. So that the next couple of

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generations can pick up a tape and learn from looking at the screen as opposed to reading a manuscript. (laughter)

Togami

Printed matter, again.

Harry Honda

Yeah, yeah.

Togami

Well, on behalf of the REgenerations project and the Japanese American National Museum, I'd like thank you for your time, very long time today, your cooperation, and your candor. I appreciate it.

Harry Honda

Okay. I'm glad we had it in this room, because the sound doesn't bother or bounce around like the other place.

End of interview 2 of 2

Rose Honda

• Interviewee:
•     Rose Honda
• Interviewer:
•     James Gatewood
• Date:
•     March 17 and April 5, 1998

Biography

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Rose Honda

	"...the worship
	services...were always full
	because people were
	returning from camp and
	seeking a gathering place. I
	think both for the Buddhist
	church...and the West L.A.
	Methodist...were places for
	people to gather. Also, to
	share whatever was
	happening in their
	adjustment to their lives....it
	was a place to socialize..."

When Rose Honda was thirteen years old, she and her family were taken from West Los Angeles and incarcerated in Manzanar concentration camp in Inyo County, California. In 1945, she and her family left camp and returned to their old neighborhood, where they lived temporarily in hostels. One of these hostels was run by the West Los Angeles United Methodist Church, which was reconstituted in 1945.

The church had always been an important social institution for many prewar Japanese Americans. It offered youth activities for children and reached out to bring the Issei and their families together. Important social functions like weddings, funerals, family gatherings, Bible study, and Sunday school brought many of its parishioners together. The Honda family had been active in the West Los Angeles church prior to the war. At Manzanar, where they lived among many members of the West Los Angeles church, efforts were made to recreate a church that offered spiritual and social functions to the incarcerated community.

With her schooling cut short by the evacuation, Rose Honda continued her education at Manazanar concentration camp, and graduated from high school there in 1945. At the time of her graduation, war hostilities had ended, and the West Coast was again opened up for returning Japanese Americans. However, now able to leave camp, the task of rebuilding life was difficult. Before the war, her father was employed as a gardener for the Hares a couple that lived in West Los Angeles. The Hares were able to take care of the family's personal property during their wartime absence.

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They provided her father with a car, that he was able to purchase for a minimal price. With the car, the family was able to begin to process of rebuilding their lives. Housing was difficult to find in the years immediately after the war. Understanding this difficulty, the Hondas took rooms at a hostel owned by a family friend. Prospects for finding good jobs also proved difficult.

At the boardinghouse, job offers circulated among those who stayed there. Employment offers included gardening, farming, and domestic work. Rose's father was able to find gardening jobs, while her mother found work picking vegetables. Shortly afterward, the family moved into the church-run West Los Angeles hostel, where they lived in the parsonage.

Many merchants in the area posted signs that revealed anti-Japanese sentiments. Such racist attitudes made Rose Honda uncomfortable and question the acceptance of Japanese Americans. During such uncertain times, the church offered many families and individuals help in relocating, assisted Issei unable to speak English, and served as an important gathering place, especially for young people.

In 1945, Rose Honda began attending Santa Monica College. She also found a part-time job as a domestic worker, managing to work while attending school. While in school, secured a job as an aide at a childcare center, and eventually began working at a preschool in the Santa Monica School District as a full-time teacher. She remained with the State California Childcare Centers and with the school district for a total of thirty-nine years.

Through the years, Rose Honda has been a very active member of the West Los Angeles United Methodist Church. She has been a Sunday school teacher; she has worked with the young adult group; and she helped to form a girls club, the Atomettes, at the Sunday school.

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Interview 1 of 2

Rose Honda reflects on the importance of the church in her life, speaks about the church at Manzanar concentration camp, and describes her participation in the West Los Angeles Methodist Church. She recounts how the church assisted Japanese Americans to resettle after the war and details the formation of other service and community organizations in the area, noting the changes of her West Los Angeles neighborhood. She concludes by discussing the rewards of her thirty-nine years as a teacher in the Santa Monica Unified School District. Rose Honda's interviews were conducted by James Gatewood on March 17 and April 5, 1998 in Los Angeles, California.

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Gatewood

I'm Jim Gatewood, REgenerations [Oral History Project] interviewer. Welcome. And this is the REgenerations interview with Rose Honda. The date is March 17, [1998] Saint Patrick's Day.

I'm going to start first of all talking a little bit about camp issues, and then we'll go into your resettlement experiences. I just would like for you—if it's possible—to evoke for me one of your—your memorable experiences in camp.

Rose Honda

My most— number one, I think the day we had arrived, it was very cold and windy, and we were given the—I believe it was navy—the heavy navy coats to keep us warm. And we also had to take, I believe it was typhoid shots—some kind of shots that made us a little sick a few days. But we had to take shots and it was just out in the open where we're all lined up taking our turns. And then I remembered going to the barrack and seeing our room, which was assigned to us.

I don't know what I was imagining, but [I] didn't have any—imagination of the room. Well, it was a wooden barrack, and barren, with army cots—the iron kind of framed army cots with the straw mattress—and one stove to burn oil. But our floors were not completed yet. We can see the slats, and in-between, we could see the sand. When the wind would blow, it would come up between the slats. It was very dusty.

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Then it got dark—like it is at this present time outside. We were to line up to go to the mess hall. We were handed out these army plates that were aluminum cups and then aluminum pans to get our food. We would line up to get our food. That was also strange—and being with a mass of people going into the mess hall. Now, the other experience—and to just to get used to that kind of living with the bathroom was outside. We call them latrines and showers. It was community [communal]—one for the men and one for the women, and we had to go out.

It was really remote. The great Sierra Mountains there and Mount Whitney, it just surrounded us. I really felt that we were really out in the isolated area. But the other experience that I went through was going through school, to middle school and high school.

Gatewood

And how old were you when—?

Rose Honda

When I entered Manzanar, I believe I was thirteen. I have a younger sister and my parents. We all went together to Manzanar.

Many of the people who lived in my block, Block 23, were people from the church and from West Los Angeles.

But I do remember attending school. I think, I felt kind of comfortable when I suddenly saw a teacher, Miss Hayes, whom I had as a student teacher at Emerson Junior High. She evidently applied to become a teacher in camp. So it was a familiar face from the outside. Then, the everyday living and trying to adjust to community living all together.

Gatewood

What were some of the challenges of everyday life in camp, during that period?

Rose Honda

Well, the challenges were really trying to get adjusted to this kind of living with many people. First, when we were out there, we were with two other families, so we had to put up army blankets for a partition. Also, there was the challenge of being in this camp with barbed-wire fence and four guard towers watching over us. And we had to adjust to this kind of living.

Gatewood

You and your family have been very active in West L.A.'s church prior to leaving for camp. I'm wondering if you could tell me in what ways

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church life was recreated at Manzanar while you were there, or what you remember about church life during that period?

Rose Honda

I think the church members, the Christian community, felt that it was important that there be a church. So a church was opened up in one of the barracks. That was a community church of the different denominations coming together—the Presbyterians, the Baptists, the Methodists, the Free Methodists all together. It was stressed that the faith was very, very important to have at this particular time. And the church was created for the Japanese language congregation, because they certainly needed a church to relate to.

Many of the Issei parents and the families—many of the men were taken by FBI, and they were not around. The church played a role in supporting them. I think the person that helped the communication between their husbands and fathers was certainly Reverend Nicholson. And Mr. Nicholson took a great part in going in and out of camp, finding out where the husbands were located. But also, the church existed for the Christian education for youth and young children. Also, there were activities, weddings, and funerals, and family get-togethers, and Bible study, Sunday school classes. Vacation church school was developed.

Gatewood

So, in this way, the activities of the prewar church were in some sense recreated? Would that be a fair characterization?

Rose Honda

I would say so. Like I said, along with the various denominations from the other churches, [we all] got together. So I look at it like a community. It was a community church, rather than under a certain denomination.

Gatewood

Who was preaching in the church during this time?

Rose Honda

I believe there was Reverend Kashitani. He was from the Free Methodist. Then it was Reverend Fujimori from West L.A. And I believe—I think—Reverend Henry Murakami was assisting at that time, then, whenever Reverend Nicholson came in, and others.

Gatewood

How often would you see the Nicholsons on any given month, for example?

Rose Honda

It seems to me that he came—I think he tried to come up and visit the families at least probably once a month, or once in two months. Of course, there was the gasoline shortage and the tire shortages, so he had to work all that in. When he did come up each time, he drove a truck and he brought people's belongings from the church, which

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were stored at the West L.A. Church. His two sons, Samuel and David, as well as Mrs. Nicholson were also very much involved in helping the internees.

Gatewood

In terms of some of your activities while in camp—just to get a sense of the kinds of things that you were doing—what kinds of activities did you participate in during that four-year period of camp?

Rose Honda

Certainly, the high school had dances for the young people. It was just amazing how the teenagers were able to make a barrack hall so colorful with crêpe paper, and decorations that the students created. Rather than like today, you can go to the store and buy any kind of decoration and hang it up. But at that time, the students all had to create their own themes to go along with the decoration. So there were class dances. There was the high school annual that students put much time into putting together. Then, there were picnics. We were able to go out of camp to a nearby stream. It seemed like it was far away, and we were able to have class picnics out there.

For the whole community, they had outdoor movies during the summertime. Many sports events for the young fellows—baseball, basketball. There were classes, too— ikebana

classes, sewing classes to keep people busy, and creative craft classes. So many, many wonderful creative crafts were developed in camp. Amazing what they would pick up—a Manzanita twig or bush, and then create that into a cane or a lamp stand or tables. There were others who were able to find scraps of lumber and made furniture for their room in the barracks.

Gatewood

What kinds of things were your parents doing during this time?

Rose Honda

My mother was always interested in sewing. She kept busy with embroidery. She would order embroidery kits and make pillowcases, or pictures to be framed. She also did a lot of crocheting. We were seemingly always ordering things through Sears and Montgomery Wards for her crochet threads and embroidery thread. My dad was—well, he had a job as a fireman. He sort of enjoyed that.

But also, he worked on the Manzanar farm. Then there was a call for men, because they were short of workers to go out to the sugar beet fields in Idaho. So he went out for a couple of months to do that. Also, they both were active to continue their church activities.

Gatewood

How did they do that, for example?

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Rose Honda

He went to prayer meetings, Bible study. Also, I did forget to mention many people who are artists and what they painted. I think many painted the scenes of the camp, and the Sierra Mountains, the Alabama Hills that surrounded the area, and the activities that went on.

Gatewood

I think you capture it very well. It gives me a very vivid image in my mind of what was going on.

Resettlement, and talking about resettlement. It began—it's been said it began as early as 1942 when people came into the camp. Students began to leave, and others who secured jobs began to look to life on the outside—going back to America, as it were. I was wondering if you can tell me at what point your family made preparations to leave camp, or at what point your family decided that it was time to go?

Rose Honda

I graduated in the summer of '45, and at that time, of course, the ban was lifted to return if we wished to California. So my dad came out, I think, in August. We had very dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hare who lived over here on Bundy [Drive], who also kept some of our personal things in their home. So he went out to talk with Mr. Hare, and they said, "Well, you know that you can start gardening."

That was what he did just before the war [World War II]. They were very kind in saying that. He [my father] said, "Well, I don't have any tools. I don't have a car." They said, "Well, you can have our car, our Chevrolet coupe,"—I think it was. I think it was for a very small sum to get him started. Then he said, "Well, now, I'm going to bring my family out."

So Mr. Iwanaga, a friend of dad's—Mr. and Mrs. Iwanaga started a boarding house or a hostel on Beloit [Avenue]. The building itself, I think, was a boarding house before. It was set up with enough rooms for maybe, I don't know twenty families or so. So we were able to move there.

At that hostel there were many different jobs that came through for employment. So people, who lived there, like my dad, would go out and interview for the gardening jobs. There were farms out here, so my mother went out to do day jobs picking string beans or whatever vegetables. Also, they asked for domestic jobs. So one day, my friend, Frances Tashiro—she's Kaji now—Frances Kaji and I, we went out and worked in different homes as a part-time job while we attended school. We laugh about it till this day, because we made

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seventy-five cents an hour. Then the church opened up as a hostel for members of the church to stay there until we were able to find our own homes.

So my family moved to the church upstairs in the old house. We stayed there, I believe, about six months before we moved into the house on La Grange and Butler. Again, our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hare, helped us purchase the home.

We were just thrilled, because it was our first home since we had returned. I mean it was actually a house, not a one-room situation. But we are indeed grateful that we had a place to go to when we first came out—both at Mr. Iwanaga's and the church. We didn't have a place to go to. Because we didn't own a home, we didn't have that. But the church certainly played a great role in helping people really settle.

Gatewood

What were some of your family's concerns when you left camp?

Rose Honda

Oh, I think the main concern, and certainly for my father, was how is he going to support his family without a job, and how would he be accepted in his return to his gardening job. He was very concerned about where we were going to live. So he worried a great deal. But again, Mr. and Mrs. Hare were very, very supportive.

The other thing is that there was a job opening for my dad to be a gardener at the Westwood Congregational Church, which was located on Westwood Boulevard and La Grange. At that time, the minister was Reverend Mark Hogue, and he wanted to help our family very much.

As a matter of fact, he wanted to take us into their home, and have my mother be the domestic worker, and my dad the gardener of the church and for his home. They were located, I believe, south of Exposition, near between Sepulveda—Westwood, somewhere around there. My mother wanted to be right here in the West L.A.

community, so we remained at the (chuckles) hostel—at the church until we were able to purchase a home.

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Gatewood

You had mentioned that your mother wanted to be here in the West L.A. community. What kind of factors drew your family, or why did your family want to come back to West Los Angeles?

Rose Honda

I think it's because it was—before the war, it was a Japanese community. I think being together as a group, they felt safer and with support. Certainly they met many prejudices and discrimination before. The other feeling was that the Japanese families were not able to purchase property east of Sepulveda, so the Japanese families mainly stayed west of Sepulveda.

I think my mother felt it was a familiar place to come to, and felt more comfortable returning back to West L.A. Again, in her mind, I think there is a West L.A. church that she could turn to. So I think that was the other thing. But familiar grounds.

Gatewood

So how much time elapsed before your father came to West L.A.? Did your father summon you from camp, or did he come back and get you?

Rose Honda

Well, he returned and sort of gave us the situation of what was it like. Then we all came out with him.

Gatewood

When was this?

Rose Honda

'45, probably a latter part of August, September.

Gatewood

So just as the church was reconstituting itself in West L.A. as well, around that period, would you say?

Rose Honda

Oh yeah.

Gatewood

We talked about a lot of things (chuckles) in resettling. We've already talked a little bit about the housing situation. The WRA

—for example—indicated that there was a housing shortage of between 100,000 to 500,000 units with veterans coming back from the war, and the Japanese coming, and the war workers were still in Los Angeles. You lived in this hostel run by your father's friend. What was life like in that hostel when you first came?

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Rose Honda

Well, because we had already come from camp where we were with many, many people adjusting to a hostel was more of [being] with other people and being in one or two rooms.

I believe my parents had a room next door, and my sister and I had another room. That was the life of living. Mrs. Iwanaga was the cook, so we all had our meals in the dining room between certain hours. This, again, was with other families and other people. So I think that was an easy thing to do, because that's what we did three years in camp—eating with other people, and line up, although, this was on a smaller scale. (chuckles)

Gatewood

How many Japanese Americans were living in this hostel during your first move?

Rose Honda

Well, it seems to me there must have been about probably 20 different families or bachelors altogether, I believe. Then, at the church there were three large bedrooms upstairs, so there were three different families upstairs. Then, of course, the minister's family was downstairs—Reverend and Mrs. Kuwano and the family. The existing social hall now was divided into, I believe, about five rooms with a hallway going down. Probably there might have been ten families there. Then between the social hall and the big house, there was formerly a garage, but it was converted into a community kitchen. In this case, both at the house and in this converted kitchen, each family did their own cooking.

Gatewood

At what point did your family move to the West L.A. hostel after being back in Los Angeles?

Rose Honda

It seems to me that—you know, the timing for me is a little confusing, because I remember we were there beginning—probably the end of August. See, I started going to enroll at Santa Monica College in September of '45.

Gatewood

I think the church reconstituted in August. Reverend Susumu was appointed to the West L.A. Church by the United Methodist Church Conference. Kuwano came back, I think, the end—August 28 of '45.

Rose Honda

Yeah. It wasn't too far—

Gatewood

What prompted the move from your family friend's hostel to West L.A.?

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Rose Honda

I think, there was a waiting list for others who wanted to come in. Because the church opened up, my mother wanted to come to the church. (chuckles) So it was mainly because she wanted to be at the church.

Gatewood

Describe to me what life was like at the West L.A. hostel when your family moved in and you were living in the parsonage during that time? What was life like? What was a typical day like during that time?

Rose Honda

It was living in one room. So again, it wasn't different from living in camp in one room. But there was much activity going on, because some days downstairs there would be the worship service every Sunday, and people just going in and out. I think there was a tremendous amount of coordination and cooperation between the women who had to use the small kitchen they had to take turns to cook for the family.

So actually for everyone, there wasn't much privacy. Again, it was just sharing and trying to coordinate when we were in the dining room to eat, and when the kitchen is being used. But I think for us it was one more step up in adjustment. Still it had more comforts of life than in camp, even if we had to live a kind of community living.

Gatewood

So, in talking about the West L.A. hostel, did your family purchase its own food, and then—?

Rose Honda

And then cooked. Yes.

Gatewood

And you said that there was many activities going on. You had mentioned the Sunday service.

Rose Honda

Sunday service and then all the meetings—the board meetings were held downstairs.

Gatewood

How quickly did those meetings and activities begin again after you had returned to West L.A.—?

Rose Honda

As I recall they started right away under the guidance and leadership of Reverend Kuwano. The board members wanted to get things started and organized. They wanted to get Sunday school started, and youth fellowship started for the young people. It was a period where the Isseis were always saying, "For the sake of our children, Kodomo no tame." To start a Sunday school, get the young people

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going, get the choir going, get the service going. The worship service was always packed in that house downstairs.

Certainly the Kuwanos didn't have any privacy. For them, people were always around. But the worship services—like I say—were always full because people were returning from camp and seeking a gathering place. I think both for the Buddhist church, which had their own church, and the West L.A. Methodist having their church, were places for people to gather. Also, to share whatever was happening in their adjustment to their lives—getting new homes, getting new jobs, applying for jobs, and people applying to go to college.

People looked forward, I think, to come to church, because at that time we didn't have really a television to sit home and watch. So it was a place to socialize and to meet other people. At times, at the beginning—I think—it was a reunion, because not all families from West L.A. went to Manzanar. Some were split and went to other camps, because of wherever they were situated at the time of evacuation.

Gatewood

So, in other words—I'm just trying to get a sense of this. But in talking about the hostel, were there any other activities outside in the West L.A. community available to people during this early period of resettlement?

Rose Honda

I think what was happening is like the Westwood United Methodist Church. They welcomed us back with open arms. There were meetings over there, also. Mainly meetings to help us develop the church at West L.A. and having fellowships together. Then, there was Reverend Herman Beimfohr who was the campus minister at UCLA. He came out and talked to the young people to join the fellowship—the West League Foundation at UCLA in order to make connections with others on campus. So, there was that kind of activity going on.

Gatewood

Did many people avail themselves of these resources, during that time?

Rose Honda

It seems to me they did.

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Gatewood

In talking about the people who were living at the hostel, was it comprised mostly of former members of the West L.A. Church, or were there new people as well?

Rose Honda

No. They were members of the church.

Gatewood

Okay. So did you find that there were any interdenominational individuals? Were there people who were Buddhist, for example, who needed a place to live, and they stayed at West L.A., or— ?

Rose Honda

No. As I recall, it was mainly of the church members and families.

Gatewood

What kind of services did the church provide to people, to resettlers in the area? Let's say—for example—you talked about some of the activities. What kinds of services did it provide to help people find jobs during this time?

Rose Honda

Well, many of the non-Japanese people would bring ads to the church, or they would ask, "Could you put this notice up, because we are looking for domestic workers?" It was mainly domestic workers, gardeners, and farmers. So the church was able to provide this kind of information to the people that these jobs are existing.

Gatewood

Did Reverend Kuwano go out and help individuals search for jobs?

Rose Honda

Well, I think he did take in the information. And I think he did try to help those who were seeking jobs. But he certainly helped families to feel comfortable in the church, and he was always there to listen to them, and to help them out. Again, we would see Reverend Nicholson right there with him, working to help people get adjusted, and finding homes, or purchasing homes. Mrs. Madeline Nicholson was also very much involved.

Gatewood

So, in other words, at some level, Reverend Kuwano was attending to the spiritual needs of the people. What kinds of things did he do, or what kind of interactions do you remember him having with either your family, or with other people during that time?

Rose Honda

He was a person that really went out to meet his congregation and the people. And the way he did that, many remember, is that we had—they used to have, I believe, a weekly newsletter. He would go in his car and deliver many of them door-to-door. But that was his way of making contact and checking to see if you're okay, "Is everything fine? How's your family?" He made personal contact. I think people remember that. But that was his ministry. The

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ministry also tried to bring people into the church, too— very caring person.

Gatewood

So he would go door-to-door and even to strangers? He would knock on the door?

Rose Honda

Well, he might have gone to strangers, but he tried to tap the church members. But the strangers would be the Japanese families, [and he would] say, the church is here, and if we could be of help

Gatewood

And you had said that he had helped—that he and Reverend Nicholson were instrumental in helping people with housing as well, outside of the church. Can you explain that a little bit?

Rose Honda

I think, many people—well see, like the hostel, you couldn't stay there forever. So they would try to help where there were homes that were for sale or available. If not—well, renting homes was very, very, very difficult, because there was a shortage of rented homes. So they kept an eye out wherever there was property available right here in West L.A., in this area, because it was still hard to find homes east of Sepulveda.

Gatewood

Why was this?

Rose Honda

I think because there was still a feeling among the non-Japanese that having Japanese move into the area was probably rather threatening at that time.

Gatewood

During wartime, I've read that a hakujin

family lived at the church—was renting a church from the Provisional Conference. Do you know anything about that situation?

Rose Honda

No. I don't. And I wish I did. Because, I guess, being a teenager, it really didn't even cross my mind. (chuckles)

Gatewood

It wouldn't. (chuckles) Right.

Rose Honda

All I knew was that our belongings were in that (chuckles) social hall.

Gatewood

Was everything intact, when you came back?

Rose Honda

In the social hall?

Gatewood

Yeah.

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Rose Honda

Yes. Our things were. I mean, they were there. I think most everything was there, but I don't know who was living there, or who the caretakers were.

Gatewood

In the early part of 1945, during this resettlement period, as Japanese Americans return to California, they were victims, I guess you can say, of varying forms of discrimination. You talked about this fear people had of Japanese Americans.

And there is even one historian who contends, there were no fewer than fifteen Japanese American families whose homes were fired into. You know this is throughout—largely in rural areas. But I was wondering, first of all, you talked about the Hares who were very good to your family. I would like to ask you, if you or your family were victims of any form of discrimination during this initial resettlement period that you can recall?

Rose Honda

I think the feeling that I had of discrimination was when I was walking down Santa Monica Boulevard, or probably somewhere on Sawtelle. There were signs with anti-Japanese slogans.

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Rose Honda

Those were the kinds of signs that were up that were rather kind of threatening. I think some of the families had either a rock or a bottle thrown at their windows that I had heard. Then I was looking for a part-time job while I was going to Santa Monica College. I was told—and I don't know by whom—I think maybe one of my friends. I wanted to work in a preschool, so they first said, "Well, you need to go down to Santa Monica School District and apply." They said, "And be very persistent. Just be very persistent." I don't know if it was a rumor or what. It was just that Japanese had a harder time getting in for jobs, so just keep going and just be persistent. Well, I found that it wasn't difficult at all. I had filled in the paper, and then I left all my information there.

There's a wonderful, wonderful—at that time, she was the director of the Santa Monica childcare centers. Her name was Mary Alice Mallum. Her secretary took all the information from me. I had never met Mary Alice. She just took the information that I had, and then the week after that, she got a new position up in Sacramento to be a consultant. So when I went back to see if I got a job, or to talk to Mary Alice, they said, "Well, she isn't here anymore." (chuckles) Before she went to Sacramento, she put my name on the hired list as

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substitute student aide or intern, or whatever they called us at that time.

I was one of the very fortunate ones, and learned lots. And I worked there, and stayed with the State of California childcare centers and with the Santa Monica Unified for all 39 years. So I was very, very fortunate. It is almost like you were there at the right time for me. So I was lucky. And working with people who work with children, they really didn't have any discrimination against others. They were very, very accepting.

Gatewood

How about in the community as a whole? You had mentioned some incidents.

Rose Honda

No. Community—other than, just seeing these [anti-Japanese] signs and hearing about the broken windows, I didn't come across any. But I also feel, I didn't come across any because I stayed pretty close to this community. Being that I had lived at the church, it was just always being with the Japanese families. Somehow it felt that I was being protected, supported, so I didn't get that impact other than what I saw around.

Even on the college campus, I didn't really meet any discrimination. It was just interesting to see the many young men who returned on campus who would say they were in war in the Pacific, or they would say, "I was in Japan during the war." But I don't recall any discrimination in that sense.

Gatewood

Do you recall that the church had any kind of, shall we say, support mechanisms? Were there any organizations—for example—that dealt with inter-ethnic relations between Japanese Americans and the larger community in Sawtelle during that time?

Rose Honda

I think Westwood United Methodist Church helped a lot. I know that at West L.A. First Methodist Church there were people who would invite us to join meetings, or were really trying to get the two churches together. One of the very strong members there—and she still is—is Marion Anderson who, I think, really helped their congregation to be aware that we exist here, and to do things together. I think that she tried to get the two Sunday schools somehow to mix in. I remember going to different kinds of meetings there.

Then later on, she did start—not in the '40s, but I think it was probably in the '50s or so—she wanted to start a church preschool and had invited myself and others to be on the joint committee. But

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of course, I was already involved in the Santa Monica system. But she always called upon us for suggestions and directions, although she did very well herself, becoming director of that school. And it's still going on.

But during her time—she's retired now—from the directorship, many Japanese children attended the preschool, especially the ones from Japan. Their husbands were here on business, and it was going to be only temporary. But families wanted somewhere for the children to go, and also learn about the American culture. Then pretty soon, the majority of the children (chuckles) were Japanese. [Interview interupted and then resumed]

Rose Honda

—living room, and a yard. Wow! That was really exciting. So when we look back, we really bought a very small house (chuckles) but it was a house. But all that time, it was always just thinking about myself and my family.

Gatewood

Well, in that vein, you're talking about yourself and your family, when did you find out that you were going to be moving into this new home from the hostel?

Rose Honda

I think all the paperwork and all of that went to probably something like November or December of 1945. I had to go with Mrs. Hare often to the bank and sign papers and what not, because my parents couldn't buy property. They were still—

Gatewood

Oh, because of the Alien Land Law.

Rose Honda

Aliens. They later went through citizenship classes and they became U.S. citizens.

Gatewood

I'd like to talk about that afterward.

Rose Honda

And because I was not still of age—I think it was 18—that Mrs. Hare took care of most of the paperwork. As a matter of fact, we didn't have the backup money for the down payment, so the Hares put the down payment down and purchased the house. And the arrangement was that we just pay the rent, which was very small, every month. They just trusted us that we were going to always keep up the payments. And they said that when they [the Hares] both

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passed away, the house will be under Rose's name, and that I could have the house. So in that sense we were very fortunate. They were such good friends.

Gatewood

Where was the house?

Rose Honda

Right over there on Butler and La Grange. You know where Virtue Ishihara used to live? He used to rent the house. I don't know if you ever—

Gatewood

I know the one. What's the address?

Rose Honda

11506 La Grange.

Gatewood

And how much did your family pay for rent?

Rose Honda

$13—Oh, when we first purchased it, the purchasing price was $13,000. And we paid like $50 or $75 a month. I think it was $50 at first.

Gatewood

If you can take me back with you a little bit—I'd like to get in my mind the image of what the community was like here in Sawtelle—West Los Angeles during the resettlement period, 1945, '46, and so on. What kind of changes were immediate to you? What was it like? Describe the community to me.

Rose Honda

For one thing, many of the families returned. Those who had their own homes returned back to their homes. So the families of people I grew up with before the war, many of the young people were back into the community. Seemingly the owners of the stores on Sawtelle were beginning to open up, but there were new families who came and opened up the markets on Sawtelle Boulevard. The drug store was called Tensho Drug before the war. It was still before the war, it was on the west side of the street. Then it moved over to the corner of Mississippi and Sawtelle. The Yamaguchi store was on the west side, at the corner of Mississippi and Sawtelle before the war. After the war for a while, it was the pool hall. I would walk by there, and it was always sort of dark in there. (chuckles)

Gatewood

So you weren't playing pool there? (laughter)

Rose Honda

No. No. I think pool is kind of a sport now, but in those days, you just don't go in there. It was smoky. But the Yamaguchis—I believe—must have purchased that and built up their dry goods store. The Lucky Market, which was located—before the war, never

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did open up after returning. But slowly the businesses started opening up on Sawtelle.

And I believe the Japanese language school, Corinth Avenue, and different activities were taking place—programs, the talent shows, and I think JACL

meetings were held there. Judo lessons were being taught there. Japanese school was beginning to open up. So it was slowly beginning to be like what it was before the war, but with different families, different faces.

Gatewood

In terms of those who returned to the West L.A. [Church], of its congregation, what percentage would you say returned to West L.A. after the war?

Rose Honda

Let me see, as far as the—when I think of the congregation, probably—I would say—50 percent maybe.

Gatewood

I've read that in the early phase of resettlement, roughly 1945 to 1946, there was a real absence of older Nisei coming to Los Angeles. Many preferred to stay on the East Coast or the Midwest. In some of the WRA [War Relocation Authority] reports that I've read, they decry this lack of Nisei leadership. I was wondering, did you find that to be the case here in West L.A.? Was there an absence of young people, or— ?

Rose Honda

No. There were many young people here, and people who were quite the leaders. JACL [Japanese American Citizens League] was very, very strong and active. I guess there were many who did stay in Chicago or New York, or wherever they were, but those who returned, came back. There was a strong JACL group. They had many different activities, meetings.

Gatewood

Was there strong JACL presence in the church?

Rose Honda

Well, a number of leaders were church members—Elmer Uchida, the Kanegais, Kitsues. Yes, there were quite a number. And it was partly for social reasons, too, of getting together.

Gatewood

How soon after the war, did these outside activities, like the JACL or the Japanese language school, how soon did they start building activities?

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Rose Honda

I would think probably within two or three years. There was a women's organization called the Windsors. There were young women who were working women and college women starting a women's group.

Gatewood

That was called the Windsors?

Rose Honda

Yes. (chuckles) I don't know whether it was—I don't where the name really started. Why Windsors? I don't know whether the Windsors were popular at that time, themselves, or whether being a name that starts with a W. (chuckles) I know that there's a history behind it, but I don't know.

Gatewood

Were you involved?

Rose Honda

I was in the Windsors.

Gatewood

And what did the Windsors do?

Rose Honda

The Windsors did community service connected with JACL, but also it was a social group.

Gatewood

And what kinds of activities did you participate in?

Rose Honda

There were installations, and installation dances, and then—I think—helping to organize and reorganize JACL membership. Also, it involved the young people to form a bowling league.

Gatewood

Oh, interesting. So, this wasn't a church-sponsored group, though? This was an outside group.

Rose Honda

No. But Mary Ishizuka

and I did start a—it was a branch of Sunday school. And we started a girls club of seven girls who called themselves Atomettes, because that was the time that the atom bomb. Naturally it was in the news, and here were these young girls who were in their very young teens, just as energetic and explosive. (chuckles) They said, "Let's call ourselves Atomettes." (laughs)

Gatewood

When did this group start?

Rose Honda

Let me see. They started when they were six graders. Maybe it started after the church was organized, about maybe three years after, something like that.

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Gatewood

So roughly '48, '49?

Rose Honda

Oh yes. They were a wonderful group. And of course, Mary Ishizuka was the one who had a car, so she would drive. We all somehow fitted into her car. Her background is a geography teacher, so she always planned trips to go to different museums. And she was the one who introduced us to the Laguna Art Festival, which was very, very new to us. [She] even took us out to Knotts Berry Farm when there was a farm, not just an entertaining park.

But the girls really did a great deal of service to the church. They printed a newsletter for the church. They were the ones who started the bazaar. They called it May Bazaar, and they made—they went out to the strawberry fields, and picked the strawberries, and made strawberry jam, and sold it. They were the ones who started the Easter breakfast. They served Easter breakfast in the old house. They did all the cooking, and they must have served 50 or 75, or more people— seven girls. And they were the one who started the choir.

This is way later, but Eddie Iwamoto, who was a student at UCLA said, "You know, let's get a choir director." So he posted a sign up at UCLA that West L.A. needed a choir director. So in comes this fellow who was interested in directing a choir. His name was Greg Smith. He built up the choir and stayed with the group over probably five years, while he did his master's degree. He worked on his master's degree by composing a Good Friday cantata. He was a wonderful director.

When he came in we were all so nervous, and he would make each one of us go up and sing the scale. Then he realized that here's a group that's not really trained singers for the choir. And the thing he did—he himself realized that here's a group of singers who want to sing. So most of the time, he had the choir do a cappella. He felt that they don't know how to read music, most of them, but they could read notes that go up and down. So he took us where we were in terms of our voices and singing. We had a wonderful choir, and enjoyed it. He made it enjoyable and taught us a lot. But anyway, these girls, they were the ones who first started the choir.

Gatewood

It sounds like this Atomettes group was pretty instrumental in restarting some of the social organizations or activities in the early church. Would you say that was the case?

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Rose Honda

Oh yes. Of course there were—I think there was the older group fellowship people, but these young girls were just energetic and wanted to serve the church. There were still at that time men who were serving in the armed forces, and they [the girls] baked cookies, sent them over to many of the Japanese boys from the West L.A. community. Some of the cookies went to Jack Fukuda who was stationed in Korea, during the Korean War.

Gatewood

Oh, this is the '50s we're getting into.

Rose Honda

Yeah. He passed the cookies around. And Sid Yamazaki was in the same group there, so he asked Jack, "Where did the cookies come from?" And Jack said, "Well, from the Atomettes group at the West L.A. United Methodist Church." So, when Sid was discharged from the army and decided to attend UCLA, he decided to investigate this West L.A. United Methodist Church. He came and he liked the church. He liked the group. He joined the choir. He joined the fellowship, and then he started dating Kathi Yamazaki, and they got married. (chuckles) I mean, you know through the cookies, he met Kathi. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Wow. That's a wonderful story.

Rose Honda

Isn't it wonderful? It's just wonderful. And both Kathi and Sid are active even at this present time at church.

Gatewood

Was Kathi an original member of the Atomettes?

Rose Honda

Yes.

Gatewood

How many original members are still at the church?

Rose Honda

Two of them, Kathi and Sadie. Frances lives in Gardena

and is very active in the Gardena Methodist Church. So it's wonderful because the seeds were planted, and they just grow.

Gatewood

So you were one of the older Nisei doing this, coordinating this group?

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Rose Honda

Yes. I was 18 and thought I knew everything (laughs), but I didn't. Yeah. I was 18, and then they were like sixth, seventh, eighth graders.

Gatewood

Where did the incentive come from to start this group?

Rose Honda

Actually, it was through teaching Sunday school, and then we said, "Well, let's form a club." It was something to do for the girls because their own families were so busy trying to settle and get involved in the work. This was a way to find activities that were positive for the young ladies. So it really branched out from the Sunday school class.

There were others in the class, but somehow there was just these seven girls. Then, there's Taye who lives in Costa Mesa,

and she's been very active in her Methodist church. Then, there's Susan who lives down in Fountain Valley. One of the members, Michi, passed away some time ago. But we had a very, very good time. The girls—We saw them through elementary school, junior high, high school. Saw them go through their college and professional lives, then their married life, and their family. Oh, there's one, Karlene, up in San Jose. Karlene is a grandmother (chuckles), and Susan is a grandmother. So it's been very interesting to follow this group because we're just going from their childhood into their adult life.

Gatewood

Oh; that's fascinating. So this is one of the early organizations that started in the '40s, as the church was coming towards to the '50s, I guess? What other activities went on during the '40s in the early postwar church?

Rose Honda

There was the young adult group that was formed. That was for 18-, 19-year-olds, college group, but that was fellowship. It was a lot to do with social getting together.

Gatewood

Were you involved with that group?

Rose Honda

Um-hm.

Gatewood

What kinds of things did they do?

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Rose Honda

Well, again, that group went skiing, and bowling, and picnicking, but also Bible study, and meeting in different homes, having potlucks, and having times together just talking. Through that many of the members met, and they got married in the church. So at that time—it must have been in the '50s—I became the church wedding director for 10 years. It was the most wonderful time. Our church was very busy with weddings at least three times a month and at all times during the year. It was very, very busy times. As I said, a number of them met at the church and got married.

Gatewood

So we're moving into the '50s, I guess. What was the early Sunday school like? You said you were a teacher during that time.

Rose Honda

During that time in the latter-'40s and the '50s, the Sunday school was very large. We had about 200 children, and it was the center of many people's family lives there to send their children to get a Christian education. But it was also a period where families wanted their children to go to Sunday school, and to some, it was almost [that] you have to go every Sunday.

Gatewood

What kinds of things did the Sunday school do, and what kinds of activities did you have coordinated for the children?

Rose Honda

They had their Sunday school worship time in their classroom. They would all go to their—divided into different classes. But the major, major activities would be—and it always has been and it's coming up—the Easter egg hunt. They always looked forward to that. Then, always we had a church picnic, and then the Christmas program event.

Gatewood

When did these things start to normalize? When did you start having these activities again, by say, 1946, or '47, or— ?

Rose Honda

Let's see. I think they just really started right away in probably '46. Not so much the picnic because there were still people coming out. But after that, the picnics we even had way out at Zuma Beach.

Gatewood

The Sunday service, what was that like? Was it still in Japanese during when Reverend Kuwano was at the church?

Rose Honda

Sometimes it was joint. But many times we had different guest speakers in English.

Gatewood

So there wasn't any English language pastor during that period?

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Rose Honda

No. I think they were mostly guest speakers until the next minister, I believe] was Reverend Sasaki, who is bilingual.

Gatewood

Right. Let's talk about Reverend Sasaki since you bring him up. Is there anything that I've left out about the '40s that you think is important, about the church, or about the community?

Rose Honda

I think you've covered it—mainly, I just really. When I look back—how tremendously important the church role was for the people returning. Because you just don't know what to do or what direction. But at least there was a stability of knowing there was a ministry there—the older young adults, and people who can help out—if there were any forms to fill out, or going on interviews. I think the church was very important.

Gatewood

So it provided some backbone—would you say—for the JA community?

Rose Honda

Oh, yes. I strongly believe in that. When I look back then, it was a really a comfort to have that behind us, to have the church support.

Gatewood

During that early period, in the sermons and what not, did Reverend Kuwano address the needs, the issues of resettling Japanese Americans, do you recall? That's pretty a difficult question to ask (chuckles), but—I guess—on November 7, 1945, what did Reverend Kuwano say—do you recall those issues being important?

Rose Honda

Probably. I think the most important thing that was emphasized was to keep the faith, because things will work out. I think he was trying to develop that it's not easy to come back to many uncertainties, but if we stay together and build the church and support each other. I think he led the people in that way, to keep a positive, strong attitude.

Gatewood

Were there any services that I missed that the church provided for the resettling of the community?

Rose Honda

No. I think you did cover it. Mainly with the hostel, it helped.

Gatewood

When did the hostel end, by the way?

Rose Honda

I think it had to close up probably by December '45 or somewhere around there, because the church was going to begin to have the services. We needed the upstairs rooms for classrooms, because the enrollment was just growing and growing.

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Gatewood

All right. So now we kind of turn a little bit towards the '40s. In 1952, Reverend Kuwano was transferred to Loomis. I'm curious, I'd like to know a little bit about what was the context that Reverend Sasaki came into the West L.A. Church?

Rose Honda

At that time there was the Japanese Provisional Conference. The church members felt that the church had come to a point where either we had a Japanese-speaking minister and an English-speaking minister, or have a bilingual minister to serve the growing English [-speaking] congregation. So with getting to know different ministers of the Provisional Conference, we felt perhaps that Reverend Sasaki would be the one to serve at that time the needs of the church. There were many, many meetings with the superintendent, of course, who was Reverend Goto at that time.

Requests went in from West L.A. [regarding] the need to have Reverend Sasaki come because an English-speaking person was necessary. So then he was appointed. He was, I believe, in Denver at that time. Then he was appointed here to West L.A. Then it continued to grow. He served—when I look back, I don't really know how he did it—serving two churches and with Sunday school of two hundred, and with the young adults, the young people. It was a quite—maybe 100 or more. Naturally, the Issei, there were quite a number of them yet that he served. So it grew during that period in the '50s.

Gatewood

But at some level that's the high point—I guess you can say, arguably—the high point of the church.

Rose Honda

Um-hm.

Gatewood

Do you find that to be the case during the '50s in terms of the development and growth?

Rose Honda

Um-hm. Yes. And again, I think it was a lot to do with this leadership.

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Gatewood

And here we are, back again, for the REgeneration's interview. So we're talking about the church in the '50s. In American society at large, the '50s is a period of tremendous possibilities, tremendous growth. President Dwight Eisenhower is in office during this time, and people feel that the United States is at a new found level of economic, social potential.

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I'm curious at some level—I'm not going to ask you how this translates to the church necessarily, per se. But in talking about of what was going on in the church in the '50s —in either its organizational activities, or in terms of the various individuals and meetings in the church. How was this reflected, this kind of growth, or this change from this period in the '40s? People were just trying to get a hold of rebuilding their lives, and then finding this new found stability within the West L.A. community. Do you see that in the church?

Rose Honda

At that time in the '50s, because the church was growing, we're growing out of the house by leaps and bounds. There was not enough room. So then there's a discussion: "Well, we need to build a new sanctuary to hold the congregation, and new classrooms." So there was new energy in campaigning for funds for this new church. I think the energy was high.

By that time, many had gone into work in professional fields, and like you say. The economy was going up. They were able to afford to donate and raise funds for the church to build a new church. That was quite a highlight in watching the church structure going up after looking at the blueprints and getting the architect and the contractor.

I don't know if you've seen that film made by Mr. Sakamoto, the very beginnings of the beginning of the sanctuary being built. And Greg Smith, the choir director—when just the skeleton of the sanctuary was going up, you can see when the beams were put up, and there were some open spaces of sky when you looked up. Here's the sanctuary in its skeleton form with the beams and so forth, and the pillars, and then, the openness of the sanctuary. And Greg was saying, "I would love this just this way with the choir singing." (chuckles) But that's how excited he was. It was beautiful—I mean, actually, just the very beginning, before they put all the plaster in and so forth. It had a nice feeling. But it was very exciting, because the campaign went well.

Gatewood

Who started the campaign?

Rose Honda

Mr. Robert Gota was the campaign chairman, and he's the one who donated the lamps that are hanging from the ceiling. They were specially made for the sanctuary, custom-made.

Gatewood

In terms of the level of support, you said that this level of support was very good. The church was able to raise, I guess in reading, came up with about almost $100,000 of the expenses with the budget

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of $143,000 for the church. What kinds of things did—in terms of campaign and fund-raising—what kinds of things were an issue? What kinds of projects did they have?

Rose Honda

First of all, I think it was a pledge. They could pledge this certain amount to the church. You know, in the olden days going back to the Issei, they used to record and publicize names and how much the family (chuckles) donated. The Nisei when they came in really said, "Now, figures we don't want to be publicized." Then, that's all families would concentrate on— how much did so-and-so give. So we were able to sort of abolish that, but just names only. But it was the pledge campaign.

Then, I believe there must have been probably some movie fundraisers. Maybe movies were shown at the local Japanese school. I think the breakfast monies went into the building fund, different small projects to raise money. The May Bazaar, the money went into raising for the church.

Gatewood

The church was dedicated, I guess—

Rose Honda

May.

Gatewood

May of 1957, correct?

Rose Honda

Um-hm.

Gatewood

And the ceremony with everyone. What was the day like? Can you describe it to me?

Rose Honda

It was certainly jubilant and exciting. I can remember just so many people there. It was very exciting to see the reality of the structure actually going up, and brand new. It was just beautiful and brand new. I think the newness was just so wonderful, and the classrooms, and this new sanctuary to worship in.

I think it was a real feeling of joyous celebration for what everybody worked so hard for. But all along when it was being built, you could always hear Nisei saying, "Well, it's for the children's sake," for the children's sake. " Kodomo no tame." So often we heard that phrase, " Kodomo no tame." You don't hear it very often these days, although people keep saying that, what we are doing is for the future. You hear more of that. But in those days, it was always for the children.

Gatewood

During this time—and I've talked to various people about J.K. Sasaki—[and according to] my conversations with Reverend Mark,

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there's a variety of feelings people had about him bordering on good, some bordering kind of bad. It ranges, I guess. But at some level, he's been credited with this reinvigoration of the church and its activities.

If you go through and look at the 1960 Memorial Booklet that was made for the church on the occasion of its 50^th anniversary—no, it would be 30^th anniversary—there's kind of a bevy of all these organizations that formed largely, I guess, within the 1950s. I'd actually like to talk about some of them and some of the roles if you could. But first of all, is this kind of a true to life statement in saying that Reverend Sasaki was kind of instrumental in pushing this agenda of growth and development?

Rose Honda

One thing, about [him was that] he was a gifted administrator. He had that leadership, of being a strong administrator who was able to organize, to encourage the different groups that took place in the church. Because he was bilingual, it also helped a great deal in bridging the gap between the language—between the Nichigo

and Eigo congregation. When he came in, also, the finance committee was separated. I mean, the treasurer of the church. They had strictly Nichigo treasurer, and strictly Eigo. Everything was separated—the monies, the running of the church. He really felt that the church was one and that he was going to bring that together as one.

So eventually the finances became one, and then there were different financial umbrellas, I guess that you would call it. But he was able to do that, which was a good thing. Because that way, it didn't split up over who has more, who has less. So he worked on that to bring that [about].

Administrative board meetings also became one with two languages meeting together working as one. Then he felt that family and Sunday school was important, and he put emphasis on that. He felt that there should be a group for the young marrieds, so he formed that. He was very fond of music, and so he and Greg got along very well to develop good music for the choir, for the church. He had for the Nichigo, many home meetings. The Nichigo had regular Wednesday night prayer meetings that they really attended and kept it up.

Gatewood

What kinds of things were you involved with during the '50s?

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Rose Honda

I was very much involved with Sunday school and with this young Atomettes group, but mainly in the Sunday school. And I was involved in the choir. I was involved in the activities with the Young Adult Fellowship. Somehow I always got involved in administrative board meetings. When I think back, I was in those board meetings when I was like the age of 20 or 21.

When I look at the board now, I think, where are the twenties, and the twenty-ones (chuckles) in our board meeting today? So I was very much involved in those ways all the time. I remember, too, when you were saying what were some of the fundraisers. We had many, many newspaper drives. People used to collect newspaper and take it to the place where we were to recycle. Or a bin was finally brought over so we could load it up to make so much a ton. We used to recycle a lot (chuckles) of newspapers.

Gatewood

During that time—and I don't know, maybe you can tell me—there's two thoughts I have here. In terms of the development of specific organizations in the church, there were several. There was the Women's Society of Christian Service, the Nisei Methodist Men, the Youth Fellowship, and so on, the Tomodachi Tribe, and various sports programs. Did these begin, would you say, in the '50s? Is that when a lot of these activities took life?

Rose Honda

Yes. They really formed. But of course, there was always even before the war, the Women's Circle. Somehow women are very strong backbones of the church. (laughs)

Gatewood

Clearly.

Rose Honda

Yeah. They were. And then Reverend Sasaki was the one who did form the Methodist Men.

Gatewood

What was—well, first of all—tell me about the Women's Circle. Well there was the Women's Society of Christian Service and it had various circles. What was the function of this organization?

Rose Honda

To do service for the church and to support and care for the women of the church. Many of them needed to have a support group, because many of them were just young mothers raising a family. They also needed an outlet or group to get together with, so that was a strong group.

But also, I think the church depended, and still depends, on the women to carry on some of the backbone projects of the church. So

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it's always been a strong group for the church. And I think Reverend Sasaki felt that this should be a fellowship of men to get together, so the men's group was organized. And they did. They did a lot of work for the church. They were always there supporting the bazaar—manpower.

And they also had different meetings for themselves, as well as probably speakers for the community. Then as far as the Indian Guides and the YWCA programs, there was a close connection. Again, it was through Reverend Sasaki having—building a relationship with the local Y. Then, there were many young children, little boys and their dads to find a place to have the Indian Guides and the Y program. It was very strong at that time that he developed [it]. So I think, under his leadership, it was very positive under his guidance.

Gatewood

In 1952, the McCarran-Walter Act was passed that gave former aliens ineligible to citizenship, the rights of naturalization.

You said that your own parents actually went through the process of becoming citizens. Was there anything organized within the church to promote citizenship classes, or things along those lines?

Rose Honda

I think that Reverend Sasaki encouraged and helped many of the Isseis to—I think he helped to interpret a lot of the questions that might have been on the forms. You know, I really can't recall whether some of the classes were held at the church or at the local Japanese school. They might have even been held at the Nora Sterry Elementary School. I can't recall where my parents went even. But for my dad, it must have been in the evening. My mother, it might have been during the daytime.

Gatewood

Okay.

Rose Honda

And how they studied! Oh, they studied so faithfully (chuckles) and tried to memorize the Pledge of Allegiance. I have one of my mother's tablets that she wrote in English. How she practiced writing and some of the questions and so forth. So I give credit to the Isseis. They really worked hard at it. They really deserved it (chuckles), when they did get their citizenship.

Gatewood

Were there celebrations in the church for people who— ?

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Rose Honda

No. Again, I think it was probably a recognition kind of meeting, maybe at the Japanese school when there were 20 or 30 that got citizenship, they were recognized and received their papers. I think something like that—

Gatewood

Did they receive them down at the Japanese school?

Rose Honda

Well, whoever came from the board of education, or whoever—I think they passed out these certificates. Yeah, the certificates. So it was quite a day, because they felt they had graduated from this, and they did. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Do you recall the day when your parents graduated?

Rose Honda

You know, I sort of recall them getting their certificate. How glad and relieved— I think it was more of a relief when they finished their citizenship class, because they studied so (chuckles) hard. I think in all families, we tried to help them along with their English. But the actual day, in terms of celebration, I feel that it was more of [a] relief. (chuckles) But [I] was glad for them, too.

Gatewood

So you were talking about your parents. You were kind of describing how relieved you were that they made it through the kind of gauntlet of naturalization boot camp—I guess we can call it that. (laughs)

Rose Honda

I think, too, they felt that their home is America, because they've been away from their own place where they were born, Japan, for so long, that this was their place. Many of them figured that [since] their children are being raised here, growing here, this is going to their home. So I think they felt, now they've become a part of their own family by becoming citizens in the United States. And then, later on, they were able to take some of the benefits, social security.

But it was interesting, a few weeks before my father passed away, I think he was thinking of a number of things, and he was saying, "I want to go home. I want to go home." But he was talking about, "I want to go home to Japan and die." But when it came to his final time, he wanted to be in Japan. But that was interesting that he thought that. There have been other friends who had said that their parents said the same thing. When it was close to their final days, that they wanted to be in Japan.

Gatewood

That's interesting, but not surprising, I don't think.

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Rose Honda

No, because people do talk about the fact that they want to die in their own home. Well, both of my parents wanted to, and they got their wish. They both passed away in the La Grange house.

Gatewood

Wow. In terms of what was happening—the new members coming in—there's this reference to people coming from Japan, at this time, into the church, as well. Some were war brides—I assume, and other. And they had an akebono-kai.

Rose Honda

Yes.

Gatewood

Well, first of all, let me ask you one question. Who were these members coming from Japan? Who were they?

Rose Honda

They were war brides. Many of them were war brides, and it was very hard for them to adjust. In comparing [them] to the brides that come over now, they're so westernized. But at that time, they were coming to a foreign country, leaving their families. It was a lonely time. So this akebono-kai was formed during Reverend Sasaki's time to help these new brides.

They were also students going to UCLA to be enrolled. They had a hard time with their language. So with akebono-kai being formed it was a place where they could speak their own language. The people here would understand, or people who might be in the church that are from the same city or prefecture that they came from. So it really served a great purpose.

Gatewood

What kinds of things did they do for these individuals?

Rose Honda

Many times, I think, food always brings people together. Many meals were served, prepared—particularly Japanese food for these people from Japan, because that's what they craved, Japanese food. Then prayer meetings were formed, fellowship meetings together were formed; outings were planned for them.

For some of them, they were going be here only for a short time, particularly the students. So a time for them to know what it is like. There were times where they would join the Young Adults, so they would get to know a little bit of the language, the culture, the American way of life—I suppose. But it really served the purpose for them to have a place away from home.

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Gatewood

And you mentioned that Reverend Sasaki also started a married couples'— a Mr. and Mrs. Club as well. This club is made up of a small number of married couples who meet once a month on a Saturday night to enjoy a pleasant social evening is what it said about that. What kinds of things did they do? Did you know what they were doing at that time?

Rose Honda

No. I think it was matter of sitting together and rapping together. The majority, too, in that organization, didn't have children. They weren't able to have children, so they had each other.

Gatewood

Tell me how the bazaar started in the church?

Rose Honda

Well, like I said, it started from the seven girls, the Atomettes. Then, when Reverend Sasaki came, then the congregation was getting larger, and it enabled more manpower. Also, I think it started from the fact that it was called the Oriental Bazaar.

At the beginning, because Reverend Sasaki felt that it was a way for the community as a whole to begin to learn about the Oriental—the Japanese culture. We really have to check back on the first original title, whether it was. I don't think it was Japanese American Bazaar. I'm sure it was Oriental Bazaar. But mainly it was to have the community aware, and also to become aware of the culture.

And you know, at that same time in the late-'50s, '60s, there was a thing called the melting pot, [and within it] all the different ethnic groups [would be able to] learn about each other. Hawai'i was certainly [viewed as] the example because the mixture of the different backgrounds of people. It pointed out how they were getting along no matter what background you came from. So I think the emphasis was to try to bring in the Japanese culture, so people will learn about the foods, the music, and the different celebrations. That was the purpose of the bazaar.

And way back at that time also, or at one of the bazaars, Sid Yamazaki wanted to start—because it was culture—he wanted to start exhibits with an emphasis on Japanese culture. So then we brought in the ikebana display, the bonsai display, the different factors of the culture. Then later other kinds of displays came in. [And exhibit] paintings by Asian artists around. It kind of branched out into other things.

Gatewood

How does it compare to the bazaar that we have—that the church has today, the original bazaar in the '50s?

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Rose Honda

I would say it's changed in ways—especially the exhibits have certainly changed. It's been branching out, yet it still has its Asian flavor. Last year, it was the quilt show, and it certainly showed the talents of the Asian women and the kinds of quilts that were brought in. On the other hand, because it takes such preparation— some of the exhibits which were always held upstairs, were all cut out, because it was harder getting—I guess it's because it's their own people who are putting up the exhibits. [It's] harder to go upstairs and downstairs even for those who came to the bazaar. So we didn't have any upstairs last year. [It will] probably be that way. (laughs)

Also, I think additional, different kinds of foods have been added—like the chashu bao, which is so delicious, have been added. The recent discovery of the Chinese chicken salad— more food has been added. (chuckles) Different games, more new games. Trying to gear it to young people, as well as children. So in many ways, it's [the bazaar] grown, but in a different way. Hopefully, it's still serving a purpose for the community to learn more about the culture. But the existence of this church is also of being unique, that it's Japanese.

End of interview 1 of 2

Interview 2 of 2

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Gatewood

This is Jim Gatewood, REgenerations [Project] interviewer. Today we are interviewing Rose Honda. This is our final interview. It's April 5, 1998.

When last we left off, we were talking about the '50s. I kind of want to backtrack a little, ask a few general questions, and then I'd like to know a little bit more about your life. We've been focusing a lot on the history of the church, but I think—to give it context—it would be important to know a little bit about what you were doing after the war and kind of in the context of your family.

First, I'd like to ask a couple of questions before we move on to that. So I'll take us a little bit back to the '50s again. One of the things I'm interested in knowing about is kind of the climate for Nisei coming back after the war from camp. I understand or I've read in numerous sources that amongst the Niseis there was this kind of anxiety about returning, or many of the talented—so-called "talented"—Nisei had gone to the East Coast or to the Midwest for positions. Did you find in your experience with West L.A. that initially there were very few Nisei who were coming back, or what was the case?

Rose Honda

The ones who had gone particularly back east from camp were older than I was. So when I returned, I just came back with my family to West L.A. And we stayed in a hostel, which was run by Mr. and Mrs. Iwanaga on Cotner [Avenue]. But coming, it was kind of an uncertainty of how are we going to be accepted—what is it going to be like?

I know it was hard for my father, because it meant livelihood, it meant how was he going to get back to his work as a gardener, who will hire him, where will we live? All these questions were going through. And of course, then I begin to feel, too, "What are we going do?" We didn't own a house, so it meant we had to look for somewhere to rent.

And in those early years, it was very difficult to find—to rent an apartment or rent a house. So my father's friend who ran the hostel, we stayed there. And there were a number of young people there, but they were mainly young people who were still in high school or just beginning to go to college. And then after that, the church opened up the large house for a hostel.

So then we moved over to the church to stay awhile. And then in the meantime, we had a very dear friend, Mr. and Mrs. Hare, who did have our belongings, and also they were instrumental in helping my father get back to his gardening job by letting him use their car. In fact, I think they sold it at a very nominal price, so that he could get started. And at the Iwanaga hostel, many people came and posted index cards with the notices saying, "Need a gardener" or "Need a domestic worker.

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Gatewood

So it wasn't difficult for your father to find work after all?

Rose Honda

No, I think it was—he himself was rather apprehensive, in terms of how he was going to be accepted, because right here in West L.A., many of the stores, shops on Santa Monica Boulevard had signs up, "No Japs Allowed," or "Go Back." There were signs like that. So that was uncomfortable, not being sure how we were going to be accepted.

Gatewood

So demographically looking at the community, how would you describe it in terms of people's ages, like in the early phase of resettlement?

Rose Honda

I would say age-wise, families came back together. Age-wise, I would say, from the young children—probably five or six—and on up to the junior high age, and then high school age. And I'm sure there were a number of college-aged group people around, but there were a great deal of high school kids.

Gatewood

Okay. That's good. One of the things I have also read—this is kind of an important point. Just in terms of looking at the ethnic organizations, looking at the church as an ethnic kind of church—there was a lot of debate, I think, as the war drew to a close, whether or not to reopen Japanese American churches after the war. That was a point of contention for many.

I was wondering if one of the reasons that I've read that they did sell or did reorganize these churches was for the purpose of evangelizing the Nisei. That was a major kind of concern. I was wondering did you ever find, or as part of the church's leadership even during that initial period, was that ever kind of something that was promoted at the church level? Or do you remember any examples of that during that time?

Rose Honda

To me, I feel that the church—not only this church, but perhaps other Japanese churches in the city—at that time, was to mainly help relocate the families. And because the Isseis and their language, the churches were able to—the ministers who spoke the English language as well as the Japanese language, I believe, were able to help them with resettlement and many of the questions they had on their minds at the time.

I think, also, the churches—well, it was really a gathering place for those who returned, mainly for church, but also for social—for the young people. And I just feel that the church played a strong role at the time. And so when you speak of evangelizing, I think it was more how the church played the role in this ministry to serve the people as they returned from camp. And then—as I say—at that time, I think it was a real gathering point for the people around in this community, both here at this church and the local Buddhist church.

Gatewood

So in any of its programs or policies, was there ever any kind of emphasis played on—that people, for example, who went to the hostel, they had to attend church, worship service, or—?

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Rose Honda

I don't recall that there was an emphasis. I think—to me, I just felt it was a place to go, meet people, help people who needed to settle, because at that time, there was no television or that kind of entertainment. It was mainly being at the church, and socializing, and getting active in the activities at church, whether it be choir, or for the Isseis it was Bible study, prayer meetings. And I think many were happy to be back, but of course, the freedom to be out of the camp.

Gatewood

So basically, the two kind of wrapping-up questions I had just in terms of the church, based upon things I had been looking at.

Rose Honda

Well, I think, the—going back to your question about evangelizing—I think that just came along with all of us just attending church, and it was there—the ministry and the purpose was there. And, I think, many at that time grew spiritually, and just each time— I don't know how strong, but it was available. But I think more so, it was terribly important for the Issei people.

Gatewood

Well, there was a certain lack of stability, especially for them, kind of recreating their lives.

Rose Honda

Um-hm. Yeah. But certainly, the Japanese Provisional Conference, the Methodist ministers really felt strongly that at that time the ministry was terribly important—mainly, it was to help everyone to resettle and get on with life.

Gatewood

Was there ever any thought about, maybe, attending for your family, or was there any talk in West L.A. about attending these more mixed group churches or these kind of interracial churches?

Rose Honda

Well, I know as the West L.A. church began to kind of settle down, and we who stayed in the hostel moved out, and the rooms were used for classrooms, and so forth. But—you see, before the war, particularly West L.A. church, had a strong tie with the Westwood United Methodist Church. And therefore, Reverend Wheatley was there, and he really helped to tie the friendship together. So we did go back and forth, and had meetings with them, and try to do things with them, and they would invite us to fellowship there, and we would go.

Also Reverend Beimfohr was the campus minister at UCLA, he also encouraged many of our college people to attend the fellowships at the Westley Foundation. So there was. I mean, I think the church people there all around opened their arms to us and tried to make us feel back home. But there were friends out there to support us.

And there was one job that my father—the Westwood Congregational Church, the minister, Reverend Mark Hogue, hired my dad to do their grounds, and he was wonderful. He just really was a person who looked after my dad, but also was concerned about our family and seeing that we were settled.

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Gatewood

In 1964, the church broke away. Well, the conference kind of dissolved, and the church went on to join the mainstream conference, I guess, Nevada and Southern California Conference. Was there any kind of discussion or debate in the church as to the necessity of doing that? Do you recall that time at all in terms of what was discussed around the integration of the church?

Rose Honda

Well, there must have been some kind of discussion, naturally, because it meant integration and how it was going to affect our churches and also all our Japanese American pastors. There must have been, and I can't recall those meetings very clearly. But I know that the Japanese Provisional Conference was very strong, because many of us did attend the various conferences that they had throughout the city and then even up north, like San Francisco, San Jose. But I think because it wasn't going to—I recall where along the line, that it was going to be probably a better thing to join the regular Methodist conference—to be a bigger part of it.

But then, it also, I think, meant a larger commitment to be a part of a bigger organization, and we would no longer be just ourselves. And it probably was a very good thing. I don't think it would have been good to just stay as a Japanese conference because it was a small group. At that time, I think, for the ministers who were in it, it was good. But it was the time now to move on, and be a bigger part—touch that bigger part of the church.

Gatewood

Do you think the church as a former Japanese church, do you think it accomplished that goal? Or do you think West L.A. has accomplished some of those goals, becoming part of the larger church entity?

Rose Honda

I think so. I think it certainly has broadened the relationships. And I think it has been important for the upcoming Sansei and Yonsei ministers to be a part of this larger part of the church for them.

Gatewood

Do you think the churches have since lost the integration, have lost some of their ethnic identity or ethnic autonomy?

Rose Honda

I don't think so. I don't think it has. The one thing that I and some of us have been talking [about] is where is the church going [to] go from here? Like in this community, there still are many Japanese American families, so the church can serve those families who would like to be a part of the Japanese American church. Many of them felt that they would like for the children and the young people to come, because there still is a tie with the Japanese culture, the Japanese heritage.

And I wish that there were more other groups coming, but right now, it seems it's still a Japanese ethnic church. One family we had, a Caucasian family, had mentioned that the church had the best pot luck, luncheons and dinners, because it was a mixture of the ethnic foods—the Japanese. And it was also kind of different. (chuckles) And it's true.

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We also look forward to the potluck dinners, because it's just filled with different kinds of food—Japanese foods. And also, recently, a number of people who have been coming have said in the past, maybe 20 years or more, they had become a member of other non-Japanese churches, and now they were beginning to seek—[they were] returning back to a Japanese church. Maybe it's because for its culture or roots.

Some of the families want still to teach their children about the heritage and culture. And also, I see the change in the church that we are getting a very mixed group of part Japanese, part Caucasian, part of another race; that it's going to be changing, I think. And that's good because we can all share all of this. And yet, I think the Japanese heritage will go on for awhile.

Gatewood

Is there anything you would like to say about the church before we move on and talk more about you?

Rose Honda

I think having the church right here in the community has been wonderful, because it's easy to get to for the people in this community, and again, a place to gather, a place to make friends. And I would like to see it continue for many years yet to serve the people. People will come from distances to return to the church.

For myself, it's just been a wonderful place for me to be a member from childhood until now. And of course, for my parents, it was wonderful, because of the language. They were able to go to a place where they could understand, that someone will speak their language and teach them the spiritual growth for them. And it was a real comfort. And I think it still is for the Japanese-speaking congregation.

Gatewood

Very good. Okay. So I remember we talked earlier—and you had mentioned this before—and I wanted to get back to it. This is from our last interview—about beginning your school life after the war. At the time, you were in high school, is that correct?

Rose Honda

Well, I graduated from Manzanar High School in the year of '45. I was the last high school class to graduate from Manzanar, and then the camp closed shortly after that.

Gatewood

And so then you decided to pursue your education?

Rose Honda

Well, then I decided with a number of friends that we would go to Santa Monica College—start off where it's a small college. And so I enrolled at Santa Monica College, when it was on Sixth Street. A very small campus, it was wonderful. And it's amazing when one looks at it now, what a huge (chuckles) campus it is now—very, very huge.

When I was attending there, I majored in art. But that's because back when I attended Emerson Junior High School, I loved my art class. And the teacher kept saying, "Well, I think you ought to major in art. I think you'll really do well in art." But then I also had a counselor there, as all schools have counselors, and she said,

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"Well, you know, you have to think about what you'd like to do when you grow up." I said, "You know, I'd really like to be a social worker and work with children and people and save the world." Isn't that wonderful when you're at that junior high level? And you just feel that you can just really take the world in your hands.

So we left it at that. And when I enrolled in Santa Monica College, then it was truly a rude awakening, because the other art students that were in the class were really good—they were very good. And we were required also to take commercial art. And I just was not interested in commercial art, and I wasn't good at all in commercial art. And so I said to myself, "You know, there's a great deal of competition in this field of art." And again, there's a counselor there, and he said, "What do you want to do? What are your plans?" I said, "Well, I really would like to work with children."

So he recommended I go talk with Mary Burnette who had a co-op school across the street. And then she recommended—she didn't have any openings at the time, but that I should go down to the Santa Monica Board of Education and speak to a person by the name of Mary Alice Mallum. Well, I never did meet Mary Alice Mallum that first day. Her secretary made me fill out a form of information.

And I'll never forget that day because I was really scared—it would be an interview, and I was scared. And till this day, I could remember [where] the Santa Monica Board of Education was located. I think on Sixth Street. It was a brick building, and it had these beautiful shiny hardwood floors and staircase that I had to go up, and every step seemed to squeak. And I was scared. I think I was scared in terms of, well, will they really accept me? Or will they hire me? I kind of had that feeling, because I was Japanese. So anyway, I filled out that application and so forth.

While I was at the college, I did get a student aide [position]—I guess, they called them at that time—to start in a childcare center—McKinley Childcare Center. These childcare centers were supervised by the state. And they were started during the war for mothers who had to go and work in the factories. They call them the Rosie the Riveters. And the men were off to war, so they [the women] had to have a place to have childcare. So I understand the centers were opened from 6:00 in the morning until 6:00 in the evening. But by the time I started working, they started opening like at 7:00, and closed at—well, they were still closing at 6:00 [in the evening].

And the day I was hired, Mary Alice Mallum went up to Sacramento to work for the state program. You see, I never met her, and yet she had hired me just on what was written on the paper. And I don't know—until this day—and I often told her, "You didn't call me into your office. You must have had a tremendous trust or faith in me that I would do the job." And so I worked through as a student aide and then became kind of the substitute whenever they needed me.

And then, I was hired to become a teacher. And I finished my two years at Santa Monica College. But by that time I graduated, I was hired as a teacher at the

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childcare center. So you know like money was the root of all evil. I decided, well, I'll just stay on the job. And I didn't go on to finish my B.A.

But while on the job, it was required that we had to take so many units to renew our permits for the state. So I continually took courses at UCLA—extension classes they call it, at UCLA. And also, I took a class at Pacific Oaks, Pasadena.

And I also went to different conferences to get credit for those to continue my permit to stay on the job.

And then, as the years went on, I became the director at John Adams Childcare Center, which is in Santa Monica. The director was going to retire, so I was able to take her position. And to this day, I think I was fortunate to be at the right place, at the right time, with the right people, because then I stayed with at the centers, which was administered by the Santa Monica Unified School System. I stayed with them for 39 years.

And during that time, I had an opportunity—again it was through Mary Alice Mallum; she said, "How would you like to spend four weeks of your summer up in Poughkeepsie, New York?"—because the Vassar College has a summer institute—Family Institute. And I said, "Well, sure! I'd love to do that." (chuckles) So I went one summer.

Gatewood

When was this?

Rose Honda

That was 19—I think—'57. And it was a wonderful experience. These teachers came from all over United States, and we had children—mainly they were children and family on the East Coast. Some—a few from California and Texas. And there was a program where the children and the teachers stayed in a dormitory together. And the parents came for this program, but they stayed in another dormitory. And during the day, there were courses for the parents to take, whether it was literature, music, or parenting or early child education. And we were mainly there, too, to study about young children.

So the first summer I was assigned with the two-year-olds. And they are really babies. (chuckles) Poor things, they were separated from their parents and stayed with us for 24 hours. We had a night shift staff and a daytime— and I thoroughly enjoyed that. The only part was summertime in New York, the humidity and all—it was unbearable. Oh, it was unbearable. But the experience was really fantastic.

Then, the next summer, when I got home, I thought, well, I don't think I want to go there again—mainly the weather. But, as time went by, they asked me again if I

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would return, and forgetting about what it was like (laughs), I went back. And this time, I worked with the five-years-olds. And with the five-year-olds, it meant getting in the pool for recreation. I didn't know how to swim, but thank goodness there were lifeguards all over. Because the kids, once they learned how to swim, then they want to jump off of the side and so forth, and we're supposed to be watching them.

I never did learn how to swim at that time. I just was (laughs) in the water trying to supervise the kids. Also, it's a beautiful campus. And the kids had bikes. They had bikes for them. I didn't know how to ride a bike, but I had to keep up with the three that were in my charge. So at night, one of the teachers had to teach me how to ride a bike. (laughs) And somehow, I managed, but not very well. Again, that was an interesting summer. And again, I met wonderful teachers.

This one teacher said to me, "Rose, before you go California, why don't you drive with me to my home in Michigan?" So with her help, I was able to see Niagara Falls and all the different parts of the United States, until we got to Michigan. And then, I flew home.

Well the third summer came, and again, they asked if I would like to return. And this time, we had a choir director at church by the name of Greg Smith. He had his professional group and then, he had his church group. So he came in one night to the choir, and he said, "I'm taking the Greg Smith Singers to Europe. How many would like to go with us?" So six of us raised our hands. And we didn't realize at that time, but we were the down payment for the entire group. In other words, we had to come up with $1,000 so that the traveling process could be scheduled. So I couldn't go with them, but a few like Sadie traveled with the Greg Smith Singers across the United States.

And the Smith Singers sang across the United States raising different funds—concerts for this trip. And then I met them in New York, and as well as Eddie Iwamoto. He was not a minister at that time, but he was at the theological school in Massachusetts. So he joined us. And it was a wonderful experience of seeing Europe. And of course, being with the singers, we had to listen to them rehearse all the time on the bus, or if they had a concert (chuckles), we had to go along, because that's where the bus took us. (chuckles) And that was good.

And then, after that, a number of years went by, and working at John Adams, and Mary Alice said, "Well, how would you like an opportunity to go work at the Yale Child Study Center?" So the Board of Education gave me a year's leave, and I went to live in New Haven. And it was wonderful, because here this Californian never experienced the four seasons.

And living in the snow in the winter, that was great. They tell me that was the worst winter, but to me it was all so new and [a] new experience. In fact, one day I enjoyed the snow so much, it was a snowstorm, and I had heard on the radio that many of the schools were closed. So I thought, well— I did go in the morning to the preschool where I was working, but I also, had to attend seminars on campus. Well, I thought

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because it was a snowstorm and all the schools closed, there would not be a seminar. And next day (chuckles) my director said, "Where were you?" And I said, "Oh, I thought the classes were closed." And she said, "Oh no. Nothing ever closes at Yale. (laughs) Classes stay open."

So after that, I attended seminars. (laughs) But while at Yale in the morning, I worked half a day with the children and their families. But in the afternoon, I was assigned to work with autistic children and a child that has cystic fibrosis. And to me, that was an entirely different world to work in. It was like night and day. During the morning hours with children, I could talk with them and watch them physically move about. In the afternoon, it was trying to communicate with these autistic children but finding myself just repeating in simple ways to try to get some response. Sometimes, I didn't get any response, and to try to work with them on this.

So that was a good experience all the way around; just living in New Haven, being able to take the day off and going to New York by train (chuckles), and seeing some of the shows, and also visiting some of the friends there. I enjoyed it so much, I wrote to my boss at that time—her name was Docia, she's a very good friend of mine—and I asked Docia if I could stay another year. And she said, "No, come home." (chuckles) And so I did return and then continue my directorship at the John Adams Children's Center.

And when I finally retired, it was at the end of my 39^th year with Santa Monica. So I'm really grateful to that school system. And I had a wonderful staff—just wonderful staff to work with and great parents. Hopefully that we were able to help many of them. So I couldn't save the world, and I couldn't work with the whole world of children, but we had our world of children right there at John Adams.

Gatewood

That's wonderful.

Rose Honda

Yeah. 25 children and then later on, it became 50 to 55 children.

Gatewood

So you remained at the same place— ?

Rose Honda

You mean at the same place—?

Gatewood

Thirty-odd years.

Rose Honda

Thirty-odd years.

Gatewood

Wow.

Rose Honda

And it changed towards the end, like maybe the thirtieth year or so. You know, the state funding was getting tighter. I mean it was coming. And they were cutting down the staff. And when they start cutting down, they increased the enrollment of children. And then there was more paperwork, because it was a state program. And so requirements of many, many forms, and accreditation—

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So I think by the time of my retirement age, it was good, because it was changing. The demands and the stress was getting greater. But we served many, many single parent families. And I really give credit to those young moms who had to work and raise a family by themselves. Later in the year[s], we did get some fathers who were the ones who were playing the role of mother and the caregiver, so—It was a great career, great profession for me.

Gatewood

That's wonderful. That's really wonderful. You've had a very full life, it would seem.

Rose Honda

I really worked hard at it. There were many times that—because of the demand of the work, I would stay beyond the time that I was to stay. That place was just my life all the way around.

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[question not recorded]

Rose Honda

I didn't have—I could count the number of Japanese children we had enrolled. In the early years, the Japanese families, the Nisei families, had their Issei parents, so the children stayed with the Issei parents or— and then also there was a scale, an income bracket, and many of them made more than was the scale, so they weren't eligible for our program.

Gatewood

Okay. So you had to be on a fixed income, essentially, to qualify.

Rose Honda

Right. But I really enjoyed working with just different backgrounds of the children, learning about how different families raise their children. And another, I think, stimulating part of our whole program was that we were on the John Adams Junior High [School] campus, so we were a training center. And for the junior high school students, we were an elective. They can take us as a course. And even young boys took us—put us on their program. So they would come second period or fourth period, to come and work with young children. And there were times when they would work with them, right at the crafts table, or read them a story, or play ball with them.

For some students, it was a wonderful way for them to start relating to people because some of the teenagers had a hard time with that. And also, we were next door to a home economics class where they—it was a wonderful teacher, Betty Morris, and she had child development courses for the young ladies. And her cooking class, she had some boys in it, and she taught them the different kinds of nutritious foods to cook for children. And they even cooked up a menu and cooked for the kids and we all went; 35 kids went into the room and had lunch with the junior high kids.

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And then we had students who were interns from UCLA, Mount St. Mary's, SC [University of Southern California], and also from Santa Monica High—Santa Monica College, certainly, we were connected with their child development department. So it really was a stimulating job to just work with all ages, and just all the way around.

Gatewood

You indicated to me at one point—well, there's a couple of questions that come out of this. But you had indicated to me that on the day of your interview, when you are first thinking about this position at the childcare center, you had some sort of sense of anxiety, basically because you were a Japanese American. Did you ever at any point during your career experience any kind of discrimination, whether it'd be overt discrimination, or kind of more—I don't know—subversive?

Rose Honda

You know—I thought that I would. I think just among our friends we were talking, "You know, it might be hard to get a job. They might discriminate [against] us because we are Japanese American." And maybe we had that feeling, because being in camp was all Japanese. And suddenly coming out and being in the mixed world, how are we going to be accepted? How are they going to see us? So I think I had that feeling. But you know when you asked me that question, I think back.

Once I started in the job, I didn't ever encounter that. The people who hired me, the people I worked with, were people who just were very understanding, and they were very much aware of what happened to the Japanese Americans. Because they lived around here, they were aware of what happened. And of course, they felt that was terrible, but they never showed prejudice or discrimination. They just accepted me as I was.

Even the parents, I think, they had their own problems (chuckles), and trying to work, and trying to raise a child. And some had their husbands still in parts of the world cross fighting. And so I didn't ever—I don't ever recall.

But I think it's mainly because people I worked with were very understanding people who are in the field of working with people. When I retired, a young man, he was forty at the time, when he called me. He called me at work. He said, "This is Red Enright? Do you remember me?" And I said, "I certainly do."

He was one of my first students when I first started. So when we were talking, he said, "You know, as a child at four years old, when I looked at you, you looked different, but I didn't know what you were. I thought maybe you were a French person." (laughs) But he didn't know at that time. No, I never sensed discrimination at all. If I ever sensed discrimination, it was right here in West L.A. community where the stores had signs up, saying "Japs go back," or "No Japs Allowed."

Gatewood

Yeah, it's interesting in talking to people in this community, people respond very similarly that there wasn't discrimination, and that the white people kind of greeted them with open arms, but I found some research that kind of contradicts that. And

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many of the white people, I think, in West L.A. were very hesitant about Japanese coming back here. They were probably caught up in that hysteria of the time.

Rose Honda

I'm sure they had fears.

Gatewood

Yeah, they did, indeed. So in talking about—well, we talked about discrimination. In talking about the kind of work you were doing, what was the nature of your work, and how did that change after you assumed the directorship of this school?

Rose Honda

Well, my work was mainly as a group teacher. I was assigned with maybe five two-and-a-half-year-olds. And then, later I was assigned to be with twelve four-and-a-half to five-year-old children. The director sort of shifted us around to get experience with different age groups.

But mainly my work was to help the children grow and to learn socially—social development, and help them with their emotional development, and the cognitive development. And to plan the day, that they would have a rich full day, because the children, many of them stayed anywhere from eight to 10 hours a day.

But at that time, our philosophy in our schools was that children learned through play. So in order to do that, we had to plan a rich program, in order that the dramatic play was covered. In other words, we'd set up for a play house, even a store, or fire station, so that they could play out some of these roles. Also, we provided plenty of artwork for them. The finger painting and the easels were always set up for them to go to whenever they felt like they wanted to paint.

We provided music opportunities, listening to the records, but also giving them the opportunity to have just free body movement to music. And then giving them a rich program about science: [for example,] just picking up a bug, and just talking about the bug, and discovering about the nature around. Planting seeds and watching them grow. It was such a rich program. I wished I had that opportunity myself.

Gatewood

Okay. So, we've talked a little bit about— it seems that opportunities just abounded for Nisei after the war. Prior to the war, many very talented, well-educated, second-generation Japanese Americans were constrained from the types of occupations they could pursue. Certainly, there are several anecdotes of the Stanford graduate who had to work in a fruitstand because he or she couldn't put their degree to work. Did you also find that this was a period of kind of unparalleled opportunities either amongst your friends, or were there certain segments of the community that were experiencing these kinds of growth and opportunities?

Rose Honda

Well, I'm sure that was around. That was certainly going around with probably many who were older than myself. With the people that are my peers, the immediate friends that I had were going to college. And at that time, they were majoring in either teacher—becoming a teacher, or nurse, or engineers. And many secretarial positions were opened. But for the other professions, I wasn't aware. I mean, I'm not sure what they had to encounter.

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Gatewood

Did your parents or are you aware of situations where the parents of friends encouraged you or your peers to pursue particular occupations, or were you ever told not to do something for— ?

Rose Honda

No. My parents always encouraged us to go ahead and go to college and get an education. I mean, that's what all Japanese families are supposed to do. (chuckles) And so, seemingly—I guess—because the jobs were available, there were so many that went into teaching.

And now, when I look at the young people, they are in all kinds of fields, because I think the field is opened up. But at that time, they said, "Go into teaching, because you'll get a job." I mean, it's available—the teaching. And of course, many of the Japanese American teachers turned out to be just great. They were all such great teachers whether it be elementary level or high school level. And a number went into college. When I look back then, it's almost: if you want a job, go into teaching, or go into nursing; or for the fellows, engineering.

Gatewood

That's interesting.

Rose Honda

Yeah. That's what I recall. And it was. Many of them did go into engineering. There were jobs available for them, and they certainly proved to be great workers when they were hired.

Gatewood

That's very interesting. Okay. So just talking a little bit about some things that were going on. Not just within West L.A., but kind of on a larger scale—let's say, on kind of a national level. There was many events that were unfolding with the dawn of the postwar period. And one of these—and you kind of alluded to this in one of your organizations that you helped form here, the Atomettes.

During the early resettlement period is the sense of the Cold War—the development of the Cold War— and that was kind of a major national event. I was wondering. Did that impact you in any way? Do you recall ever being concerned about some of the events that were unfolding around the Cold War?

Rose Honda

Well, probably at that time for me, was—you know my world was so small coming out of the camp. And because we were a very small family, that all those other events, I didn't really focus into. Perhaps, the one that was reorganized was the West L.A. JACL [Japanese American Citizens League]. And that brought a lot of people together, socially, as well as [around] issues that came up. But because I was a student and concentrated so much on the new job and so forth, that I would say again, my world was very small. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Well, that's perfectly normal (chuckles), I think.

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Rose Honda

I think maybe, too, that I felt, because I had a job and I didn't face any kind of traumatic discrimination, that I was in a safe place. And probably my ears and eyes didn't open up to all these other things going on.

Gatewood

That's funny, though, the way you say that. You were in a safe place at a time when unsafe things were happening (chuckles) in the world, you know?

Rose Honda

Yeah.

Gatewood

But that's very interesting to me.

Rose Honda

Yeah. The one time—I have to backtrack. On V-J Day

—I believe—August—

Gatewood

Yeah, '45.

Rose Honda

And I really can't recall. I don't know whether I blocked it out or what. But I don't recall how I got from Manzanar to L.A. It must have been on a bus or something. (chuckles) My dad came out first, and then he called for my mother and sister, because he found the place at the hostel. For whatever reason, my dad took us to Los Angeles, or maybe we were going to Japanese Town or something. And they had the red streetcars at that time, and it was just jam packed with people. And that particular day that we were going was V-J Day. And we were crammed in this streetcar going.

And all the people around us, whatever nationality, they were just throwing their caps, paper, whatever, rejoicing that day. I mean, the people around didn't even notice us as Japanese. I think they were all so jubilant that the war was over. But for me, I thought, oh, I'm Japanese, and surely they'll do something to me—the people around me on the street car. That was the one time fear that I had, but nothing really happened because no one was really paying attention to us, because of the celebration. But that was one time, I really was scared.

Gatewood

That's really interesting, actually. A day of joyous occasion for everybody else, you would be afraid.

Rose Honda

Because I am Japanese. But after that, I can't recall any really traumatic— My sister, when we came out, she was enrolled at Uni High [University High School]. And when I was talking to her the other day about talking with you and so forth, she said, "My beginnings at Uni High was not very happy." And that was because she was going from the camp with all Japanese, now going into a high school, at the high school age level, with all mixed people—the whites, mainly Caucasian at Uni High. I think she herself felt maybe somewhat—I don't know—probably the feeling of not being accepted by the peers. So the Japanese students always stayed together as a group. I mean, you could always find them on campus, because they were always as a group. (chuckles) But I'm sure that you find that at UCLA campus.

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Gatewood

Yeah, actually, that is often the case with the undergraduates. You see them in very particular corners of campus, so it's not unusual at all. So in terms of anything else, like were you influenced by any other events that were occurring through the fifties, sixties?

The Civil Rights Movement, for example, was developing. It had been developing since the '40s, but it was really taking on a life of its own by the fifties when Martin Luther King had come into the spotlight, and then later, with the Black Power Movement, Malcolm X. Did you recall that having an impact on you? As a person of color, did you ever think about what role you might play in all of this?

Rose Honda

Well, not so much of my role in that, but to get some information. Impact was when I was in New Haven. We were getting news a great deal of the marches in Mississippi. And on Sundays, it was just a part of me that I attended church in New Haven, which was a congregational church in New Haven, and the Minister there was Reverend Sloan.

And Reverend Sloan was one who went down to Mississippi, marched with the people down there, and I think he was even put in prison. And that was the closest of when he would come back and give his message to us. But that's the extent that I really got involved, because I was so concentrating on my job at the Yale Child Study Center.

In other words, I guess I was always sort of a closed person in terms of what was going on the outside, so I didn't really get involved. Then it was exciting because that was the year that the late President Jack Kennedy was campaigning, and he came on campus.

New Haven didn't have a campus like UCLA. It's like SC. It's in the town of New Haven. So they have the School of Drama here, and the law school on the next block. And within the communities, they have the "green"—they call it the "green," the square where they have gatherings or meetings. So that's where the late-President Jack Kennedy came. There was a platform, and he gave his campaign speech to the crowd.

Gatewood

So you saw him?

Rose Honda

Um-hm. So it was very exciting to be that close and to see him. But those were the kinds of events going on. Yes, the Mississippi marches were going on at that time, but I really wasn't an activist to get in there to really push to do something about it.

Gatewood

I'm curious, and this may seem like a strange question. It's something I haven't yet asked any of my interviews. I'm kind of curious about it. In terms of the kinds of things that you were doing—I guess in the '50s more, when you were—and outside of the church necessarily—what kinds of extracurricular activities were you engaged in, and more importantly, what kinds of things? Like for example—this is kind of a

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different question, but—television—for example—was just coming into popularity in the '50s. Did you have a television, and if so, what kinds of programs were you watching?

Rose Honda

I think it took awhile for us to get a television. I mean, we didn't get it right away. It was a novelty when it first came out. And my very good friend, Mary Ishizuka, her family had bought a television, and it was very small at that time—a black and white. And she would invite her friends to come over to see this: "You can watch a movie!"

And we were just enthralled on this piece of furniture. (laughs) And we couldn't believe it. And she would have gatherings of people all in her living room, and we would be sitting there watching these movies or pictures coming out on this screen. I don't know when or at what point my family we got one, but I think I watched the "Ed Sullivan" shows, the "Hit Parade" shows, and then they had some old movies. You know, there were times that I had study in-between.

Also, it seems to me that I was attending meetings—a lot of different meetings—JACL meetings, and then I joined a bowling league with JACL. Also, we had ikebana. Ikebana was taught by the late Dr. Koichi Kawana. And my sister and her husband, Bob, live here, and the ikebana classes were held here, but at the beginning, they were held in different students' homes. And it seemed like ikebana was every week, so that's one night out of the week.

But my life really revolved around the church, so I was serving on various committees. So there were various committee meetings that I attended, too, in the evening. Then, we had a women's organization called the Windsors, so I was involved in that. But also, when Mary Ishizuka and I were—she was Nishi at that time—and we were advising this Atomettes group, and very much involved with them, going on field trips, and evening meetings. So I can recall by thinking I went to a lot of meetings (chuckles), and I'm still going to many meetings. (chuckles) But in between all that, I was busy going to the extension classes, the workshops, the conferences that related to my work.

Gatewood

I know at one point, you were superintendent of the church school. Is that right?

Rose Honda

Um-hm.

Gatewood

What did that entail, exactly?

Rose Honda

I think that really entailed staff meetings—getting the teachers together and having the staff meeting, and being in charge of seeing that the curriculum is divided into the age groups and the classroom. And just really overseeing the program of the education department of the church.

Gatewood

Was it for just West L.A.?

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Rose Honda

Oh yes, West L.A. Church. (chuckles) But I really felt like it was very similar to my work, because when a teacher was sick, then I would have to fill in as a substitute, which I did at my own work. And mainly, seeing the overall program of the church school. And at that time, it was a large Sunday school to oversee.

Gatewood

In as early as the 1960s—the '60s was the development of these ethnic consciousness movements, and it kind of spearheaded into other kinds of activities, but the redress and reparations movement

began in the seventies and took on a real kind of force in the '80s. Well, first of all, what were your, kind of, initial thoughts about redress and reparations? Did you have any kind of thoughts about that?

Rose Honda

First of all, I really felt that that was really very, very important, but mainly for our Issei parents. And of course, both of my parents passed away before they were able to receive the redress monies, and many other Isseis. And I felt very sad about that. Because if anyone, they were the ones who really—it was so very hard what they had to go through.

We Niseis did go through a hard time, but for them more so. I mean, such people who were not enemies, and working so hard, and being immigrants who came and struggled, and to make a better life, and then to be uprooted into camp, and not being able to see the redress come true. I felt very sad for my parents, but glad that it did go through for those who were able to receive it, including myself.

Gatewood

Did your family ever receive any money from the 1948 Evacuation Claims Act?

Rose Honda

Um-hm.

Gatewood

You did?

Rose Honda

Um-hm. Yeah. I can't remember quite what the amount was, but not great, but some.

Gatewood

Okay. Did the church take any role in the Redress Movement?

Were there any kinds of organizations in the church at West L.A.?

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Rose Honda

Oh yes, there were. Well, and at that time, Reverend Nicholson was alive, and he went to testify for the movement, and he encouraged many of the people around here to go and testify, because it was very, very important to tell the story. And I myself didn't go. And I think it was because my story would have been that it was the wrong thing to put us in camp. It was in that we didn't have our freedom and so forth, but you see, I didn't go through some of [what] the older Nisei went through in terms of— and my friends—their fathers were taken by FBI and really tragic stories, more so. And that's probably why I didn't volunteer to go.

Gatewood

Did people testify from the church?

Rose Honda

Yes. I believe Mary Nishi Ishizuka did, and there were others who went.

Gatewood

All right, we're just going to basically wrap up here. Just a few more questions, but I was wondering what you see—and these are kind of more reflective questions: What do you see as the main challenge facing the Japanese American community today? Just threw that one out at you. (laughter)

Rose Honda

The challenges—Well, the challenge would be—hopefully for me in this community that it's a residential area, and there are very few remaining residential areas, because all the apartments, condos, business buildings are coming up. And it has been really a great community that has served the people—particularly Japanese people for many years.

And the challenge is that hopefully the few blocks that are remaining will stay a residential area, because I know that probably the city planners, developers are targeting and focusing in this area, because it's really a good area and the properties are very good. So hopefully, this community can remain for some time, because it has a history of the Japanese American community. And its heritage and culture that the families have tried to carry on and teach the children.

And I think many other ethnic groups have picked up like the culture and heritage, and are very much interested in it. It would be sad to see it go. I think that would be the challenge to stay as a unique community that has this history behind [it]—for others to come in and be able to someday read your writings and the others who have been doing the research about West L.A., which was once called Sawtelle. So I hope that the Buddhist church will continue and grow here, and the Methodist church can carry on also. That would be a challenge, because I really don't know what direction, particularly the church, will be going when the Nisei are gone.

We'd like for the Sanseis

and Yonseis to continue. But that's what the Issei said when they said, "When we're gone, we hope that the Niseis will carry on."

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(chuckles) And I think that the Niseis have done a good job. But the church really has to have a following or congregation. In today's day, it's also the monies that keeps the church going—of the expense, the tremendous expense. And if you don't have a growing congregation and membership, it's tough. And I would like to see it remain just for history sake. (chuckles)

Because when you think of this community, it's gone through so much, from the immigrants to the four years, the evacuation, the returning, and how this community has served. So I hope it goes on for— I would say that would be the challenge, to see it.

Gatewood

Well, I hope so, too. (chuckles)

Rose Honda

But there isn't a real strong Japanese American group, as a group. I mean, there's JACL, but not everyone in the community is involved in it. So I don't know.

Gatewood

What are some of the major milestones in your life?

Rose Honda

The major milestone would be that—certainly, I'm grateful to the church. Of course, it was my mother who started me in the West L.A. church, but as I have grown in it, I have really depended a great deal on the church for my own growth and my own spiritual growth. And certainly, the friends that I have made have been very strong friendships. I would say the milestone in being connected with the church is one of my highlights in the church.

The other one is being able to have been with Santa Monica Unified School System and the California Childcare, because I learned a great deal from them. So those two would be—I think—that meant a great deal to my life. And because of the two, I certainly learned a lot to be able to cope with some of the hardships and the problems that I had to face in my own life. And the part that I was able to be a caregiver to both of my parents, and they were great, great people, and I enjoyed them. And I was glad that I was able to care for them. I never did get married, and I never had a family of my own. I've always been a single person. I guess today's day, you call it a career person.

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Rose Honda

My choice was to take this other road to be more of a career person.

Gatewood

Let's see. Is there anything we haven't really covered that you'd like to talk about. I think we've covered a lot in three interviews (laughs), but is there anything else that I've overlooked? I've kind of gotten to every nook and cranny, at some level, of your life. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?

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Rose Honda

I was also glad I had the opportunity to live on the East Coast. I mean, life is quite different there. Also, probably another highlight was that I did go—maybe about 18 years ago—to Japan, on a tour. And that's when I really realized how important [it is] for all of us to go back to our roots. Because that really opened my eyes to what my mother and father's birthplace was like. And when they spoke about it—that I could relate to it.

So that was a wonderful trip that I had taken. And when I got off the plane, all of a sudden I really could feel the sounds and the smells of Japan. You know, we used to get packages—as a child—from Japan and there was always a certain smell to the packages, and that was the cedar, the wood, or kind of the fishy smell. And when I got off the plane in Japan, then the sounds were all of a sudden merging in Japanese—Japanese music. (laughs) But it was a good experience. And I hope and wish that many of the Sanseis and Yonseis—I'm sure many of the Niseis already—they would go back to their grandparents', great-grandparents' birthplace and learn about the Japanese culture, which is so rich.

And then during my work experience—although being a director, the director has to be a little bit of everything. So I learned to be a little bit of a carpenter, a cook. When the cook was sick, then I had to whip up quickly a meal: peanut butter sandwiches, and maybe open up a can of whatever, (chuckles) and try to put a meal on the table for the children.

So I learned a little bit of being a cook, a carpenter, and being a nurse. When the nurse was off duty, and some child got a scratch, or some child came with red rashes on the face, I had to determine what is this? (chuckles) So it was learning many, many different things. But when I look back, it was good. It was good. And when I retired in '89, I was ready, and [I] have to this day, thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed my retirement. Time has kept me busy, not enough hours in the day.

Gatewood

I bet you're busier now. (laughs)

Rose Honda

Yes. And I think it's partly because every day, it's not the same routine schedule. Some of it I have had to just to be disciplined, in a way like keeping up exercise. So going to the Y every morning at 8:00 to take aquacise. And my sister was the one who encouraged me to do that, because she said, "You're only two blocks away. You really need to exercise. Why not enroll?" So thanks to her, I got encouraged to go.

Gatewood

That's great.

Rose Honda

I'm enjoying retirement mainly, because health-wise I'm grateful for having a good health. But also I realize it's so important when one becomes a senior citizen and retire, that to me, to be in a familiar place, where my friends could come and go, and I can come and go with my friends, that there is a contact. I would hate to be isolated somewhere where I'm away from this. So it's been important. It's important, I

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think, for seniors to always have people around you, to be able to communicate and do things together.

I think the other—you asked about highlights in my life. I think really the greatest highlight— I was so thrilled, when my nephew Mark came into our lives. He is the only nephew that I have out here, so he's been such a joy. And he's twenty-eight years old now. So (chuckles) he's out in his world, but in his growing years, we had a wonderful time together.

Gatewood

That's wonderful.

Rose Honda

Yeah. We just spent a lot of time together. And then I was able to take him on different trips. And one friend says—right now, he's [Mark] a sale rep [sales representative] for sports equipment and that takes him places. He has to go out to Mammoth, Lake Tahoe, or Arizona. So my friend says, "See, it's all your fault. You set him off traveling at a very young age." (laughs) So, he's been a great joy.

Gatewood

That's wonderful. Well, you certainly led a very full and rich and wonderful life. It's really great. And [you] are continuing to do so.

Rose Honda

Yes.

Gatewood

Before I end, I have to ask two questions, because I'm going to be wondering otherwise, and I think you might be able to tell me. First of all—and this is a prewar question—when Japanese Americans started coming into this community, I know that gardening was kind of the chief reason because it was very well situated between the different gardening jobs. But I know that a number of people engaged in truck farming in this community. Can you tell me anything about that? I haven't heard much.

Rose Honda

Well, that's probably because there was a farmer—there was a farm right here on Bundy.

Gatewood

Only one farm?

Rose Honda

Between Olympic and La Grange—that area. And then that farm was run by the Sakioka family. And the Sakiokas after the war, purchased many acres out in Orange County, and did very, very well. When they were here before the war, they really struggled. It was very, very hard. But, like I said, they did very well.

And then, in Santa Monica, about Mar Vista, I think, there were some bean raising farmers out there. I know that our family friend had a farm right where on Sepulveda—right below where Getty Museum is. You'll see a line of pepper trees on Sepulveda, north of Wilshire. And they must have leased the land from somebody. Anyway, they had a farm out there. And that's where my mother went to work in the produce stand on Sepulveda.

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Gatewood

So would you say truck farming—would you say it was kind of minimal over here on Sawtelle?

Rose Honda

It was existing, but I don't know where they transported all the produce to—probably Central Market. That I don't know.

Gatewood

Was it only the Sakiokas that had a farm here in Sawtelle?

Rose Honda

Sakioka and Mitsuedas over there on Sepulveda.

Gatewood

And that was basically it, or— ?

Rose Honda

That I'm aware of. I know there were some farms south of Pico.

Gatewood

Yeah, in Venice.

More towards Venice right?

Rose Honda

But between Pico and National.

Gatewood

Okay, that were Japanese-run?

Rose Honda

I don't know who was running them.

Gatewood

Okay. So, there was farming going on then in Sawtelle in the prewar period, and Japanese Americans were doing it then?

Rose Honda

Well, yes. Except the Isseis were kind of the backbones of properly knowing how to run the farms. And their older children—I think the younger children had to work on the farms, too, at that time—the younger Niseis.

Gatewood

So would you say that truck farming—would it be fair to say that was one reason why people moved to Sawtelle, aside from gardening?

Rose Honda

I think that was one of the work areas that was available. Yeah, because they would hire day-work people. Yes, because— see on Sawtelle Boulevard there was a boarding house. Many bachelors stayed there, and I think they probably went for day-work. And I know they went for day-work for gardening.

Gatewood

And one other question, last question, after the war, relief packages—the Provisional Conference started organizing a program of sending relief packages to Japan. Do you recall, did you family ever send or gather any—or was there any kind of organization in West L.A. to gather packages and send relief aid to Japan after the war?

Rose Honda

You know, as you say that, in the back of my mind, I remember vaguely how my mother used to package things and send them. I think the church did ask members to

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bring in and package certain things, but what, I'm not sure. I think there was, yes, a call for that.

Gatewood

Okay. And that is it. I think we're done.

End of interview of 2 of 2

Haruko (Sugi) Hurt

• Interviewee:
•     Haruko (Sugi) Hurt
• Interviewer:
•     James Gatewood
• Date:
•     February 28, 1998

Biography

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Haruko (Sugi) Hurt

	"...on the whole, people in
	Chicago were very
	friendly....they had no
	preconceived notions about
	how to treat us....they treated
	us like they would treat
	anybody else. It was quite a
	different story from here in
	Southern California, or in
	California as a whole....I always
	have very fond memories of
	Chicago."

Unfortunately, the move to Gardena did not alleviate the Sugi family's tenuous financial situation. Her father, already in his late-forties, found it difficult finding a job. Because of this, her mother worked various odd jobs in order to support the family. After Haruko Sugi graduated from high school, her parents could not afford to send her to college. Consequently, she took on various types of employment, from sewing to domestic work.

After the United States entered World War II, she and her family were sent to Santa Anita Assembly Center, where they remained for six months. From Santa Anita, the Sugi family and others were transported to Rohwer concentration camp in Arkansas. In 1943, after spending six months at Rohwer, Haruko Sugi left camp after securing a live-in babysitting job in Chicago. The job required that she care for a thirteen-month-old child. In addition to the job, her

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live-in status as a babysitter offered her much-needed housing. She later worked at the Tuberculosis Institute of Chicago.

In 1945, Haruko Sugi joined the WACs [Women's Army Corps] and moved to Fort Snelling, Minnesota, where she worked as a typist in the headquarters' office. After training, she was sent to Washington, D.C., to the Washington Document Center, where she did translation work. In 1946, she was discharged from the army and returned to her parents' home in Gardena, California.

Through the GI bill, she attended USC [University of Southern California], where she received her B.A. and M.A. After receiving her bachelor's degree, she enrolled in USC's School of Social Work. There she met her future husband and they married in 1951. After graduation, she worked at the Los Angeles Girl Scouts Council for four years. She and her husband bought a home in Westwood in 1951 and then adopted their two children: a boy and a girl.

After twenty-six years of marriage, Haruko Hurt and her husband separated, and later divorced in 1984. While raising her children, she began teaching parent education and child observation classes. During her separation from her husband, she also began teaching English as a Second Language [ESL] and adult education classes. She retired when she was seventy years old.

In 1985, Haruko Hurt sold her home in Westwood and moved in with her sister in Gardena, where she resides today. She is active in the Southern California Japanese American Historical Society.

Interview

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Haruko (Sugi) Hurt recounts her departure from Rohwer concentration camp to Chicago, how she joined the WACs [Women's Army Corps] and worked as a translator in Washington D.C., and her return to Gardena, California, where she grew up. Her description of her postwar life includes information about how Gardena changed after the war, her schooling at the University of Southern California [USC], family life, and her many years of work as a teacher. James Gatewood conducted this interview on February 28, 1998, in Gardena, California.

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Gatewood

Hello. This is Jim Gatewood, interviewer for the Los Angeles team of REgenerations, and this is REgenerations [Oral History Project] interview with Mrs. Haruko Hurt. It's February 28^th, about 10:30 A.M. Thank you very much for agreeing to be interviewed today, Haruko.

Hurt

You're welcome.

Gatewood

Okay. Basically what I'm going to do is I'm going to ask you some questions first about the prewar period. I'd like to really begin by talking about the early years of your life. You had indicated you actually lived in a few places during the prewar period.

Hurt

Yes, I have.

Gatewood

I was wondering if you can tell me or give me a little bit of a run-down of how your family came to live in the Gardena

area in the prewar period?

Hurt

My father was a farmer in San Joaquin Valley

when we were very little. He gave up farming, and the family decided to move down here seeking better economic situation. They thought it would be better to come down to Southern California area. They had heard about Japanese immigrant families that had—I think—truck gardening in Southern California area. They'd never done that before, but my father thought we would come here. When I was about 10, we moved to Gardena. We were very poor, and they worked for

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other people most of the time. They were not able to establish their own truck garden.

My father was quite elderly by that time because he married very late in life. So I remembered him as an old man when I was old enough to notice. He had gray hair, and he was in his sixties when I started to notice these things. I think he was married age 48, or near 50. He was quite elderly when I started to notice. It was very difficult for him to find jobs.

People were not eager to hire older persons. But we came here, and my mother worked very, very hard in various kinds of work. She had learned how to do massage before she came here. She did that part of the time, giving people massages. She worked in people's homes as temporary housekeeper. I remember her going to Japanese families that either the father or the mother had just come back from the hospital and needed help in the home, and she would go and help out until the person recovered. And she did all kinds of other work. She kept us going. My father was not able to bring in income. So she kept us going by doing all these kinds of work. That was my early years.

Gatewood

Okay. That's very interesting. You had mentioned, actually, that your father had worked in agriculture before coming to Los Angeles.

Hurt

Yes. He had peaches, and apricots, and grape vineyards. It was quite—according to what I understand—quite successful, except that I really don't know the details because my parents never discussed this with us. We were too young for them to tell us. But apparently, something happened, and he lost a lot of money. I heard mother say that they were in great debt, thousands of dollars. In those days, that was a lot of money. So they came out here to try to eke out a living and to pay back the money they owed. We had several years of great struggle.

Gatewood

I would like to talk about that, basically, about some of your early years. You had mentioned, actually, that this area was composed of truck farmers, and I've read that this was. I was wondering if you could describe the physical community to me during that period?

Hurt

We've always lived here in town. We never went to live in the truck farming area because my parents did not become truck gardeners. They just worked for other people. So we lived here. We bought this property in 1926. We didn't buy it. As you recall, or you may not recall, the alien Japanese were not

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allowed to buy land. So father found this piece of property right here which was considered kind of backwards place, and he leased it.

Then, he found a bungalow somewhere and had it transported to this place. There were none of these buildings here, of course. In 1926, it was just an empty place. We lived there in this house until World War II, when we had to leave. In the meantime, when I got old enough, my parents bought the property under the house—this property in my name. So, we've lived here since 1926, with interruptions, of course. (chuckles) We didn't live here continuously. But, World War II came, and we, of course, left to go to internment camp.

Gatewood

Just before we move on to that period, you had mentioned that your family had suffered under adverse conditions. You're family was quite poor.

Hurt

Yes, we were.

Gatewood

Can you describe to me what that was like?

Hurt

Well, it seems like quite an accomplishment on the part of my parents, especially my mother who seemed to keep us together. We never, actually, felt deprived because they fed us and clothed us. We never went hungry. We felt like we were just like any other young people around. We only knew that we were poor because my father and mother told us we were poor. We never suffered from lack of food or lack of clothing. We always had a place to live. Although my father drove a series of second-hand cars, we didn't think we were deprived.

We didn't think ourselves as being poor. It's just that our parents told us we were poor. They couldn't afford some of the things that some of my playmates could afford, like new clothes frequently or having spending money given to us. We never received spending money. If you needed something, they gave us a little money to purchase it, whatever it was that we needed. But we weren't just given allowances, for example, whereas, some of our friends seem to have this kind of thing. So I knew that there was a difference between us and the other families.

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Gatewood

In terms of the community itself I would like to get a sense of what the community was like.

Hurt

Gardena?

Gatewood

Yeah. In Gardena, and where you were living in the 1920s. Tell me a little bit about the community itself.

Hurt

Well, our friends mostly from school—You meet classmates, and you become friends, right? They were from the farming communities. That is, they were children of truck gardeners. Except for one family who lived right in town, old town of Gardena, I didn't know of any other Japanese families. Except there was a little Japanese town on Western Avenue which is gone now. It was just north of Redondo Beach Boulevard. It had tofu manufacturing place, a photographer, [a] kind of a store that sold odds and ends, and then a barber shop, a Chinese restaurant—few things like that—a pool hall—shops like that, all one after the other along here just north of Redondo Beach Boulevard. It was a Japanese town (chuckles) for Gardena. So there were these Japanese people that lived there. There were some with children who we got to know and played with.

Gatewood

Your family frequented that part of town?

Hurt

Oh yes. My mother, among other things she did, was work[ing] for this Chinese chop suey house on whatever the busy days were. I don't remember what they were, but she did that part of the time. There was a Japanese theater—it's gone now—a large building with a stage and it showed Japanese movies that came once in a while. Also, [it featured] Japanese theater groups that came to put on stage shows occasionally. It was not frequent, but occasionally. And, I remember and I participated on the stage as a young teenager. There was an amateur theater group composed of these farming people who were interested in performing kabuki plays mostly. I remember participating and having juvenile roles as a 12-, 13-, 14-year-old, in some of those plays. So that was quite an interesting experience for me.

Gatewood

That is really great.

Gatewood

So were talking about—You said you had performed in an amateur theater group.

Hurt

Yes. When I was a young teenager. (chuckles)

Gatewood

How did your family feel about that?

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Hurt

Oh, they liked it. My mother, when she was a young woman, participated in amateur theater in Japan. So she was all for it.

Gatewood

You had mentioned that there was this one part of the Gardena area on Western that had this Japanese town.

Hurt

Yes.

Gatewood

I was wondering, just in your vicinity of this neighborhood where your family lived? What kind of ethnic racial groups did you come into contact with?

Hurt

Very few Latinos. There were a couple in my class, for example, in high school that I recognized as of Latino background. No blacks. And of course, the rest were Japanese. Somebody told me there were Koreans, but they were hardly visible—I never saw them. I never saw the family nor knew if there were children. So it was essentially Japanese, few Latinos. The rest were Caucasians.

Gatewood

What were relations like between— ? I've read, for example, that Japanese immigrants and their children suffered tremendous discrimination at some level from the Caucasian community.

Hurt

Yes, there was. For example, I had classmates who were Caucasian that I used to walk home with. One of them, a very nice girl—Rosemary was her name—she lived on Western Avenue. At that time there was no wall here separating this block from Western Avenue. And we always walked to Western Avenue to go to school over here where Peary Junior High School now is, which happened to be at that time, junior and senior high school together.

I would walk out to Western Avenue, and I'd come home with this girl, Rosemary. She was very nice and all, but she never, ever invited me—Her home came first. I said goodbye to her as I had to come further north to come to my place. She was very nice, but she never would invite me into her home or anything like that. And I never even thought to invite her to visit me either. [It] just never occurred to me. It was the way we accepted things, that they would have their own life outside of school. In school, they were very friendly, but there was absolutely no social contact with any—at least from my experience—non-Japanese families and their children.

Gatewood

So your contact with—?

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Hurt

Only Japanese, except in the school situation, no social contact. And I wasn't too concerned with this. I just accepted it as a matter of course that this is the way things were. Except right after I graduated high school, I happened to be downtown right here on Western Avenue, and I was walking. This was right after we graduated high school, and this car pulled over and parked. The girl got out, and it was a classmate that I've known and gone to school with all these years. So I said, "Hi, Alice!" And she looked at me and she went like this (narrator turns face in disgust). She didn't want to talk to me. She didn't want to have anything to do with me, I could tell. She just jerked her head away and walked away. This was a girl that I said hello to and spoke to all these years going to school. See, outside of school the Caucasian families didn't want to have anything to do with us. I realized this at that point. I didn't really think much about it before.

Gatewood

How did that make you feel at that point?

Hurt

Well, I thought to myself, "Ahaa." I just realized they don't want to associate with people like us. You know, I wasn't thinking about those things very much. I don't think young people do, unless somebody talked about it a lot. But nobody talked about these things. So when this girl cut me off like this (chuckles), I said to myself, "Well, that's how it is. They don't want to associate with non-Caucasian people." So (chuckles) it was quite a shock.

Gatewood

I can imagine. I can imagine. In terms of the kind of relations that your family had, I was wondering if you can tell me—you mentioned your relationship with your parents a little bit. I was wondering if you can describe to me a little bit more about your parents?

Hurt

My father was—like I said—quite elderly by the time I got into the early-teens. He was gray-haired and so on, and he couldn't find work to do because of his age. So Mother had to really work very, very hard to keep us going. I didn't think much of this until much, (chuckles) much later when it's all over, how hard mother worked to keep us together, fed, and clothed, and so on. But she was remarkable in that she was able to do this.

She worked constantly and found some kind of employment. Because by that time, she herself was up in years, and the truck gardeners who hired people during the harvesting and so on wanted younger people. They didn't really want to hire people like my mother and father, because they were older and slow. They wanted somebody young and vigorous that could work in the truck gardens and [could] work quickly, and so on.

So mother worked, as I said, for other people doing what I would call home nursing. She did that kind of thing. She did massaging. She took in

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needlework from these factories that they liked to give out work to do to take home. She would get those and work at home. She used to do all kinds of things to keep us going. Later, I appreciated this. At that time, I didn't think much of it. I just thought that was the way it was. It wasn't anything—except, I knew, of course, there were people who were in business, Japanese families that were in business like on Western Avenue.

There was one family that had a large department store in the old town Gardena on Gardena Boulevard. They were considered very prominent because they had this big department store that they catered to all of the Japanese truck farmers all over this South Bay area. It was the only Japanese-owned department store in the whole of South Bay. There were no other. They came to buy their work clothes and whatever, underwear, shoes, and everything.

Gatewood

Do you recall the name of the department store?

Hurt

Kurata. K-u-r-a-t-a. It was known as the Kurata Department Store. They were very prominent because of the kind of business they did and so on.

Gatewood

As far as your family was concerned, what kind of relationship did you have with your parents?

Hurt

We got along very well. My father was a man of very few words (chuckles). He was a very gentle man. I never heard him raise his voice to anyone. (chuckles) Even when we did something naughty and got upset, he never, ever raised his hand like slapping or hitting. He didn't do these things. He was such (chuckles) a very gentle, soft-spoken man.

My mother was the more vigorous. Although, she was also not the kind that spoke and yelled at us to discipline us. She would speak sharply when we stepped out of line (chuckles), if we didn't do what we were supposed to do. But she didn't yell, or scream, or hit us, or threaten to hit us (laughs) or anything like that. So we had, I think, a very fine relationship with our parents. At least, I felt very comfortable with them.

They were strict, but not so that we felt deprived, or felt like we couldn't do anything. If we wanted to do something, buy something, or go somewhere, we approached them, and we were not afraid to say, "I'd like to do this," or "I'd like to go with somebody to someplace," because they were quite reasonable and helped us whatever they can. So I felt that I had a very good rapport with my parents.

Gatewood

What kind of values do you think they—impressing upon you as a child?

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Hurt

They told us to be very honest, and very disciplined, and to value education. They really had us think that education was the most important thing to do while we were growing up. We were enrolled in a Japanese language school here locally, and they had to of course pay tuition out of their meager earnings. They were quite willing to set aside the money to pay the tuition for us to attend the language school. It was every day after the public school. (chuckles) We had to come at the end of public school, right to the Japanese school grounds.

I used to envy people who could stay, who didn't have to go to the language school, who could stay after school, and participate in after school sports and so on, which I could never do because I had to go to the language school. They felt that was important for us to understand the language better, at least, to read and write a little bit. So they did that right through high school. After that, they didn't require us to attend. So I did that. It was a busy life going to regular school and going to the language school afterwards. Then, you had homework. (laughs)

Gatewood

It must have been pretty exhausting.

Hurt

(laughs) I don't know if I did very well. Most of us didn't do too well because we went to school under duress. Most Japanese young people whose parents enrolled them in the language school went under protest. They didn't want to go (chuckles), so they didn't learn very much.

Gatewood

What was Japanese school like?

Hurt

Well, when I first started here, we had a middle-aged couple [as] teachers. They taught the school. The wife taught several levels of classes in one room, and then in the other room, it would be higher grades. I don't recall what grades the husband taught. I went until I graduated high school, then I quit. (chuckles) My parents did not insist that I continue on. I don't know what I graduated from. I think it was like middle-school level.

Gatewood

Did you enjoy Japanese school?

Hurt

No. It was very hard, and I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere with it. The reading and writing was extremely difficult. When you only go about 45 minutes or at most an hour a day, you don't get very much done. Most of my classmates who attended the language school went under great protest. They went because their parents made them go. They were not (chuckles) interested in studying the language at all. So if you go with that attitude, you don't learn very much. (laughs)

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Gatewood

You said earlier that you were involved in an amateur theater group. I was wondering—I imagine that you're—?

Hurt

I had juvenile roles, naturally.

Gatewood

Juvenile roles, of course. I imagine that your time was somewhat constrained that you were somewhat limited in time for extracurricular activities. But I was wondering if you participated in any sports, or clubs, or organizations during this time period?

Hurt

No. I was not very athletic—I must say—compared to my other Nisei friends, classmates, who were very athletic and enjoyed participating. The only thing that I did well—somewhat—was I used to play volleyball (laughs) in intramural sports, that is within the school right after lunch. I don't remember exactly, but we used to play other classes. I enjoyed that. That was about the extent of my sports activity.

I did not have any other skills in athletics. I didn't run very well. Baseball was not my idea of fun sports because I couldn't hit that darn ball if my life depended on it (laughs). Peoples would just groan when I got up to bat. They knew that I would just strike out (laughs). If I happened to hit the ball, it would go about ten feet. I was not very good. So I was not a very popular person in the sports world. (laughs)

Gatewood

I know how that is. Were you involved in other kind of activities outside of sports during this time, or—?

Hurt

Ah . . . no. The amateur theater was about the only other activity. That was during the summer, by the way—during the summer, not during the school year, the amateur theater thing. So I was able to go for rehearsals at night. You have to remember that the adults who were in the plays were farmers and people like that, and they had their daytime work. So all of the rehearsals were at night, after they finished their work. So, naturally, I went at night to rehearse, to practice. I enjoyed it. (laughs)

Gatewood

It sounds like it was very enjoyable. I know that you held a series of jobs in the prewar period, a lot of varied kind of jobs. I wonder if you can tell me about some—?

Hurt

I must say that after I graduated high school, I wanted to go to college. That was my intention. My mother said, "You know, we are too poor to afford you college. And we've been looking forward to you graduating high school so you could go to work and help us with the income." And she said "I've

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enrolled you"—the Kurata Department Store had a sewing class in the back of the store that the wife, Mrs. Kurata, conducted. Mother told me, (chuckles) much to my surprise, that she had enrolled me to attend this sewing school.

Gatewood

How did you feel about that?

Hurt

I was just sort of wistful. She said, "We can't afford college. We've been looking forward to having you help us economically. We thought if you learned how to sew, you might be able to find a job doing that." They didn't think [of it] in terms of my working in an office. That was something that didn't occur to them—or to work doing something like a clerical job somewhere. It didn't occur to them because there were very few opportunities like that. I did work in some neat little stores run by Japanese people, but the opportunities were very little. The pay was as dismal. I finally finished the sewing school, so I graduated (chuckles).

They employed me—the Kurata Department Store—to sew these cotton dresses that these truck gardeners' wives liked. In those days, they worked in the fields in dresses. They didn't wear pants. The women did not wear pants, and they wore these cotton dresses and worked in the fields. The Japanese Issei women were short just like I am. The store clothes didn't fit them very well. So Mrs. Kurata, being a very wise businessperson, designed clothes that fit them. She had about three or four seamstresses employed in the rear of the store stitching these cotton dresses for the farmers' wives.

So I got employed to do that and I worked there for a while. But I was employed—I think I told you that the brother of the wife who recently had come from Japan was put in charge of managing everything in the store. He's the one that said to me, "After you graduate, you can work in the store sewing." He said, "Your salary will be $30 a month." He said, "After you work here about three, or four, or five months, and see how you do, we will raise your salary to $35 a month."

So I worked there. And three or four months came by, six months came by, 10 months went by, no raise. After one year, I said to my parents, "I'm quitting. Mr. Higashi promised to raise my salary to $35 if I turned out okay, but it's been one year, (laughs) and I haven't received this raise. I'm quitting." And Mother said, "Okay." She was very understanding, although she could have used that money, I'm sure. So I told the Kuratas, "I'm quitting."

And that evening, Mr. Higashi, the wife's brother, the manager, shows up [at our house]. Instead of talking to me, he talks to my parents. I go into the other room. (chuckles) I find out afterwards that, oh, they didn't want me to

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quit, "We were going to raise her salary, if she would only come back." See they didn't want this kind of thing to get about. They don't like for people to hear that I quit because I had this complaint. (chuckles) They wanted to protect their image. So he wanted me back. I said, "No way am I going back." (laughs) I wouldn't go back, so I didn't.

But I had a hard time finding another job. I did series of little jobs that didn't amount to anything. Finally, when I didn't have any steady work, one of the family friends said to me, "You know, this friend of mine, this young girl from Japan, is quitting her work with the family in Beverly Hills. Why don't you take that job, because she's going to quit and they need another girl." That's how I got into domestic work. I did that until World War II started. That was about two years maybe, two and a half years. I don't remember exactly. Like maybe 1938 to '39, '40. Maybe it was two and a half years. '41, the war started during—was it December?

Gatewood

Right.

Hurt

Yeah, it was December. The employer, Mrs. Dunlevy said to me—They were very, very kind employers, both the wife and the husband. But she said to me, "Haruko—", half-smiling. She was half-joking, but she wasn't really, really joking. She said, "I am going to have to look under your bed to see if you have a radio transmitter hidden there." You see, this is the kind of reaction that occurred immediately after the war broke out. Every Japanese whether they were born here or immigrants were under suspect. She thought, gee, this quiet girl might have been consorting with the enemy.

Gatewood

You were living with them at this time?

Hurt

Oh yes. I was living with them. She wanted (laughs) to look under my bed to see—

Gatewood

How did you react to that?

Hurt

I kind of laughed. I thought she was joking. I said, "By all means, look under there." Can you imagine? I know she wasn't totally joking. She wondered, oh, gosh, is that girl that has been working here for all these years, maybe was communicating with the enemy somehow. So this is typical, I think, of most Americans at the time. This is why they were so willing to send us to internment camps, because they suspected every one of us, including the children of being a part of the enemy. We could have protested to our dying days that we were not part of the enemy, but nobody would have believed us.

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Gatewood

So tell me—we've gone into the war-time period—I was wondering if you could describe to me, kind of evoke for me the moment when you heard about the bombing of Pearl Harbor?

What was some of your initial thoughts?

Hurt

I didn't even know where Pearl Harbor was. I was that naive. So I said, "Gee, where's Pearl Harbor?" But I soon found out. It was something that was just foreign to me. Something that country over there, Japan, did. It had nothing to do with me, as far as I was concerned. So when the whole thing came around that we were suspect, and we couldn't stay where we were, that we had to go to these camps, I was surprised. (chuckles) That may be that I was so naïve. But many of us, I think, were in a similar situation. We didn't think that we would be considered part of the enemy. (chuckles) It was just a total surprise to me, anyway. Maybe some other people were more sophisticated and knew, but I didn't.

Gatewood

What about your family?

Hurt

My parents being Japanese citizens—because they couldn't get citizenship here no matter how long they lived

—they, of course, felt that they were Japanese citizens—were dismayed, because they knew that there was going to be some kind of disruption. They didn't know what, because they were not part of the Japanese military regime that took over Japan.

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Hurt

Well, I was not too aware of what was going on in Japan. All I knew was that some very—what was that called?—militaristic people took over the government, because I knew that there were assassinations. More liberal-minded government people were assassinated by the military group, and they took over Japan. I knew that, but I didn't know that it would have any consequences for us while they're the ones that bombed Pearl Harbor. My parents were dismayed. I just didn't know what to think. But we didn't have to wonder too long, because Roosevelt had the orders for us to leave this Western [Defense] Command area.

So that happened. I wasn't thinking anything. It just happened very quickly to me.

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Before I knew it, we were going to Santa Anita racetracks. That's where we were assembled. You see they didn't have any camps built. They had no place to put us. The government had decided they would be the camps, but they weren't ready. But the citizens on the West Coast were very upset. They said, "We can't have these enemies, people running around. We have to do something." So, naturally, we were assembled temporarily, and here in the Southern California area, we were sent to Santa Anita racetracks. The government took over the racetrack. There was a huge parking lot there, and they put up these barracks—What do you call?—government barracks.

Gatewood

The tar paper barracks.

Hurt

Tar paper barracks—and housed us there. We were there for six months. Then, we were transferred, by which time these internment camps were finally completed and ready. So we were sent to various camps. Not everybody from Santa Anita Assembly Center went to one camp. Some of us were sent to one camp. Others were sent to other camps. So we separated, and I don't know who decided these things. We went to Arkansas.

Gatewood

To Rohwer?

Hurt

To Rohwer, yes.

Gatewood

So, did your family—What kinds of preparations did they make before you went to Santa Anita?

Hurt

You know, we were given maybe a week, very little time. I don't remember—to get ready. We were very fortunate. I think I said in this that we were very, very fortunate in that we had this Caucasian friend who came to my parents and said, "If you want me to, I will look after your place," because she knew by that time that it belonged to us. This lot and this house that we lived in belonged to us. "I will look after your property. Rent it out, and take care of everything while you're gone." My parents, nor Miss Hudson, our friend,

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knew—nobody knew how long we would be gone. Nobody knew this. Nobody knew how long the war would last either. But she said she would do this. She did. She took care of our house, had it rented out, because it would be very bad to have it vacant. It could get vandalized. That happened to some other people's homes. So she rented it out, paid the property tax and insurance, and whatever costs out of the rent proceeds. That's what she did.

So when the war ended and my parents were coming back, they notified her, and she had the renter move out, and had all the furniture that belonged to us which she had stored, moved back in place. She even had all of the utilities re-connected in my father's name—the water, gas, electricity, and some basic foods in the refrigerator. My mother was (chuckles) so surprised. When she came in, she said the beds were made, all the furniture were in place. She happened to open the refrigerator, and there were some basic foods in there. She was just flabbergasted.

But this is in contrast to many, many other families that lost everything. They were told, "The camp is closing. Leave." They had nowhere to go. Absolutely nowhere to go because their homes were gone. If they were renting or something, naturally, they couldn't go back to where they were renting. But even if they owned places, they were gone. So many of them—people who were Caucasian, friends, so-called—said that they would take care of them, were not friends.

I knew one family, they had trusted this couple, and when they came back they said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Somebody broke in and took everything, and the house is gone now. All your things are gone." That kind of thing happened to many. So they were in a terrible fix. But we were very, very fortunate to have this friend, and my parents had someplace to come back to and pick up where they left off.

Gatewood

That's really a remarkable story.

Hurt

Yes. I really think that this woman was a saint.

Gatewood

She sounds like it. So, your family is taken to Rohwer, you go to the concentration camp in Rohwer, Arkansas. I was wondering if you can tell me about what your most memorable experience was from camp?

Hurt

(chuckles) It was very cold. I was there six months; from about the end of October to April, so it got very, very cold. I had not experienced such a cold climate. The camp was supposed to be mile square. I don't know if it was, but it was a square, I think. We lived on the one end of the camp. My sister and I got a job as a hospital worker, and the hospital (chuckles) happened to

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be on the other end. So we had to walk—of course, there was no transportation. We just walked everywhere. It was so bitterly cold. I remember that so well because our knees ached from the cold to walk to our jobs.

Since I was older than most young people—when I talk to some of the people who were very young, [about] school-age, they [say that they] enjoyed camp, because they didn't have to answer to their parents. They just could go to the mess hall and eat their three meals with their friends. They didn't have to go with their family. You went to that mess hall you were supposed to go to, but you could go with your friends.

There was no family life as such in camp, because families didn't eat together, didn't have to. So the kids enjoyed it. It was a great freedom for the young people. They just came to their unit to sleep. All the activities was outside of their little unit in the barracks. And they could play with their friends, go to school. They did establish elementary school in camps, I understand, but that was after I left. I left within six months.

Gatewood

You left really quite soon, actually.

Hurt

Yes, because I didn't like to stay in (chuckles) camp. I wanted to leave in the worst way possible. You could leave two ways. One was being accepted in an accredited school, whether it was high school or college. You had to show that proof, that you were accepted, of course. Then, you could leave camp. The other was, a bona fide job, and you had to prove that, too, that you this job, then you could leave camp. So I got a job in Chicago and left.

Gatewood

Before you go on to that, I want to pull back a little bit. I'd like to know what kind of preparations you made to leave camp? You left in 1943; is that correct? You had indicated that you have left camp roughly in 1943, and you went to Chicago.

Hurt

Yes, right.

Gatewood

What kind of preparations did you have to make before you left camp?

Hurt

Well, I already had a job. That was the only way you could leave.

Gatewood

How did you secure the job?

Hurt

Through the camp employment office. They had a whole file of possible employment openings for whatever skills you had. I had no skills whatsoever, except I could type after a fashion. (chuckles) I never worked as a typist, but I

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learned to type in high school. So the job that seemed to promise housing is the one I took. It was rumored—and I'm sure it was true, too—that when the war started, there was a lot of opportunity in the cities for jobs.

The cities were full of people coming from the countryside to work in all kinds of industry. So I was told that housing was very, very difficult. And I knew that the cheap housing would be the most difficult to find because everybody would try to find the cheapest housing possible, especially people coming from the countryside to work in the factories and so on. So I thought that I'd better find a job that provided housing. The one job that I found was a baby-sitter for a 13-month-old child in this home in Chicago. So I took that because I could live there. I didn't have to worry about finding a home.

Gatewood

Did the WRA

announce to people in camp that they could leave under these conditions? Is that [what] you heard about—?

Hurt

Well, I don't remember the announcement as such. But I knew that you could leave under these two circumstances. But after you got the job, you had to apply for a leave clearance. That took months.

Gatewood

What was that like?

Hurt

Actually, you indicated the job that you were promised and the salary and so on. Then, you say you want to leave to go to this place. You just submitted this. But it took forever and ever. You had to get a clearance. I don't know what the steps were. They didn't tell me. It took a long, long time.

Gatewood

Did you go through a hearing process?

Hurt

No. There was nothing like that. We had to wait for a piece of paper to come through. You know how (laughs) that goes. It goes forever and ever.

Gatewood

Yeah. I do, particularly with the government. (chuckles)

Hurt

I finally got these leave clearance paper and left.

Gatewood

So how did your family feel about you leaving?

Hurt

As I say, my parents were very understanding. They said, "Good luck." They didn't say, "Oh, don't go. It might be dangerous," or anything like that. They

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just let me go, so I left. I was the first one—There were four of us siblings, and I happened to be the oldest. So, I left. Oh, yes. My sister left with me. That's right. I'd forgotten. She was—not formally, but with an understanding—engaged to this fellow whom she married as soon as she got out. He was out attending Military Intelligence Language School in Minnesota. So she wanted to go and join him before he got sent overseas. Which is how it happened. They were married, and a few months later, he was sent overseas to the Pacific Theater of War. So my sister and I left together, and I stopped in Chicago. She just didn't stop in Chicago. She just kept on going up to Minnesota. (chuckles)

Gatewood

We're just going to change the [video]tape very quickly here.

Gatewood

So we're back now with our interview. Before we took a brief break, you were talking about the steps leading up to leaving Rohwer and going to Chicago. You said that your sister went with you as well to go to join her fianceé in Minnesota. Tell me about the day you left. How did you get to Chicago, for example?

Hurt

It just happened that there was a railroad right, almost walking distance, outside the camp. There is a little station called Rohwer Station, but it just was a little shed. I don't think there was anything there. Anyway, that's where we got on, right there, right outside the gates of the camp. It was very simple, if you can imagine. I don't know why that was there either, but there was this railroad. So we got on and got to Little Rock, the capital, and we had to change trains. Scary being such a country bumpkin (chuckles) and not having much experience with riding trains, but we managed without any difficulty, and continued on to Chicago.

The employer had communicated with me saying where to get off in Chicago. Unlike here in Los Angeles with which I was familiar there was this one Union Station—they had five different stations located all over the place. So my employer communicated with me to tell me to be sure and get off at this particular station which happened to be called Dearborn Station. I got off there. I was met. It turned out okay.

Isn't that strange that I don't remember whether it was the wife or the husband who met me? It was one of them who met me. We drove in their car, and we

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drove to their home on the South Side. At that time, the South Side—that was capital "S", capital "S", South Side—was considered a very nice area to live. And it was. It was very nice—middle class, upper middle class. Not real upper, but middle class, nice apartments and so on.

When I went back there some years ago—It must have been about 10, 12 years ago, and I went to visit where I lived with this family. My sister's brother-in-law makes his home there. He doesn't live in Chicago, but he has a business in Chicago. So I met him for lunch, and I said, "One of the things I'd like to do while I'm here is to visit the South Side." He said, "Not on your life! You can't visit there." I said, "Why not? He said, "It's a very, very dangerous place now." I was just shocked. I said, "Oh, I really, really would like to go." He said, "If you must go, take a cab and don't ever get off. Don't get off the cab. Just have the driver drive you around to where you want to go." This is what he said to me, so I gave up. I thought, "That's no fun." I didn't want to just drive around in the cab.

Gatewood

It must have been quite shocking for you.

Hurt

He said, "It's gone downhill and it's a very rough neighborhood." It was such a very nice middle-class neighborhood before when I lived there.

Gatewood

Describe it to me. Describe the neighborhood to me when you got there. What was it like?

Hurt

It was right off of the lake. Where I went to stay with the family, was about two blocks from—just very short—two short blocks from the lake. The minute I got there—of course, I heard all my life about Chicago and Lake Michigan—I wanted to see Lake Michigan. So I said to the people, "I'd like to go see the lake." She said, "Oh, it's only two blocks," or whatever.

So I went walking over to the lake, and I was kind of disappointed because I imagined there would be a beautiful sandy beach and beautiful blue lake. Well, it happened that it was one of those gray days. It wasn't raining or anything like that, but it was not sunny. The lake was gray, and there was no sand wherever. I looked up and down this lake as far as I could see. No sand. It was just big boulders. I couldn't even get near the water. Big boulders all along the lake shore. It was disappointing. But that was my introduction

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(chuckles) to Lake Michigan. But, of course, there's other parts of the lake that's very nice.

Gatewood

So you lived with this family?

Hurt

Yes. I took care of this 13-month-old little baby.

Gatewood

What was that like?

Hurt

It was very nice, good little baby. Didn't cry a lot. One of the stipulations was that I had to bundle him up if it was cold. April was still pretty cold. May was still pretty cold, too. I had to bundle him up with all these layers of clothing and take him down four flights of steps, no elevator in this building. It was a huge apartment building. Take him down all these flights of stairs, and put him in this little stroller, and take him to the baby park. There are all these young mothers with their little ones in the park. It's a small park with the greens and benches and things. No play equipment or anything. It's just a small park for mothers with little children who come to play.

One of the requirements was that I would take him out once in the morning for a little outing, bring him back. It was quite a (chuckles) thing to take off all the clothing. It was mittens and the hat, and stuff like that—of this little child. Bring him home and take it all off. Then, in the afternoon, I had to take him out again. This was considered the fresh air time. When you live up there on the fifth floor or whatever, you don't get too much fresh air. You get it through the window, but not much garden experience. Of course, they all wanted their children to enjoy being outdoors, so this is what I did.

Then, one day the mother of the child said to me, "I'm so sorry, but I just miss my little boy so much that I decided that I'd quit the job and stay home." So there went my job. But that was all right, because she was very considerate. She said, "I know that you'll probably want to find another employment. Why don't you stay here, and I'll charge you a very minimal amount to stay here?" And it was a very minimal amount. She fed me and had me stay there until I found a job.

Gatewood

What was your relationship like with this couple?

Hurt

It was the very first time I had any contact with Jewish persons. This was a Jewish couple—American, of course, but they were second generation. Their parents had come from Russia years before. But they were second-generation American Jews. They were very kind and nice. I think it's because of their World War II experience. They had—in Germany—this terrible time. Their Jewish people were having ten times, hundred times worst experience.

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Gatewood

Because of the Holocaust.

Hurt

Yes. So I think this is why this couple advertised for somebody in camp. Of course, they're the ones that heard about camps. The general public didn't know about the camps at all. When I said I came from camp, they thought I was in a summer camp (chuckles) someplace. They didn't know there was such a thing as internment camp all around. They didn't know that because the government kept it very quiet.

It just so happened that people like this Jewish couple was alert to what was going on, and heard about it, and knew about it. That's why they advertised in Arkansas camp for jobs. You can understand that, because they have their own experience—not their own personal experiences, but their people's experience in Germany, in Europe.

Gatewood

Did you interact with them as if you were like one of the family?

Hurt

Yes, just one of the family. I went to work there in April, and I think it was around September or so when the woman decided not to work anymore. She missed her child so much, she wanted to stay home. She said, "Stay until you find a job. I'll just make a nominal charge for staying." And, of course, I ate with them just like I was a member of the family. I was treated like a member of the family. I was still there, not having found work—at Christmas.

You know what? They made a Christmas dinner for me. Jewish people (chuckles) made a Christmas dinner for me. Can you imagine that? She got roast—I forgot whether it was a roast duck. I know it wasn't a turkey, because it wasn't a big bird. She roasted it, and fixed all the fixings. She said, "I thought I would make Christmas dinner for you." (laughs) So that was a very thoughtful kind of a thing for them to do. You know they didn't have to do that. Anyhow, I got this Christmas dinner. Then, I think, in the following year, I found a job and moved out.

Gatewood

Do you recall ever talking to them about your camp experiences? Or did they ever ask you about—?

Hurt

I'm sure I related to them what I did and what it was like. I'm sure I did. I don't remember specially talking to them about it, but I'm sure they must have asked me questions. So I told them.

Gatewood

The mother had told you that she wanted to go back. She was going to quit her work and go back watching her child full-time. So, you started looking for

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another job, just about this time? Tell me about that experience. What was that like?

Hurt

It wasn't very difficult, because the War Relocation Authority—WRA, which was in charge of the camps and people who came out of camps. They had a little office right in Chicago, and I understand they had these offices all in the big metropolitan areas that the inmates of the camp might come to. So in Chicago, there was a WRA office. So I went there. They had employment job line up. So that's how I found—I just went to the office and I said, "I'm looking for a job, and I'm qualified to do—and sew. They found a job as a clerk typist.

I remember the man asking me, "Can you type?" I said, "Yes. I can." "Well, there's a clerk typist job in the Chicago Cook County Institute of Tuberculosis Institute. That was the title of this outfit—Tuberculosis Institute of Chicago and Cook County. So I said, "Okay." The man pulled out the card, and said, "Well, it pays $100 a month." I said, "I'll take it." $100 a month was nominal, but it was not bad for that time.

I think I told you I went to this woman in whose department I was to work. The Tuberculosis Institute is a big outfit. They had several different sections within the place. I was to work in the Christmas Seal department. I don't know if you remember, because they don't do that anymore, but the TB Institute sold Christmas Seals every year. It was part of a great fundraising effort and they sent out Christmas Seals to people all over. They had a huge mailing list, and they would send these Christmas Seals out before Christmas and sell them that way. I got a job there in the Christmas Seals department.

The woman who was in charge of that department sat at the head of the table there, and there were all these typists lined up, and I was one of them. But anyhow, when I walked in and presented myself. She said, "Oh yes. You're fine." But she said—she was looking at this card that I presented to her—she said, "It says here $100, but I only pay $80 a month." I was (chuckles) standing there in front of her desk. I looked at her. I thought, something's funny about this, but I said to her, "I'm sorry but I can't accept this job. I have to have $100 a month in order to maintain myself."

I don't know how I got the nerve to say that, but I did. Apparently, she wanted to hire me, because she said, "Hey"—in kind of whisper—"You can have $100 a month, but don't tell the other girls in the room." I thought, "What a woman!" She had advertised for a $100 a month, and she was going to hire me for $80 when I got to her. I said to her, "I understood this was a $100 month, and I cannot live on less than that." So she said, "Okay." She was

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going to pay me that, but she didn't want me to tell anyone in the room about it.

Gatewood

Were you the only Japanese American?

Hurt

There were two elderly Caucasian women working in the back, but they weren't doing the typing. I don't know what they were doing. They were in the back of the room. But in the front where there were rows of typists, most of them were black girls.

Gatewood

Interesting. How did you get along with your co-workers?

Hurt

I didn't have much to do with them because they didn't ever talk to me. I didn't talk to them. (chuckles) It wasn't that I was trying to avoid them or anything. We'd come in and had to go to our desks and start typing whatever it was that was required, and we weren't expected to chat or visit. You know, now that I think about it—We did get our break. We would go to a room where we could sit around. I used to smoke in those days.

I started smoking when I was 19, because I wanted to be so sophisticated. And this man (chuckles) who lived across the way said to me one day, "Here." He started to smoke, and he took another cigarette, and said, "Here, it's time you got started." I was so thrilled that he would think that I was sophisticated enough to smoke. (laughs) So I was smoking, you see? So in the breaks I would go to this place where there were chairs and things, and we'd smoke. But I started a fire. (laughs)

Gatewood

You started a fire?

Hurt

Yeah. (laughs) Once when the break is over, you have to go out. I thought I stubbed my cigarette out, and threw it in the wastebasket, but it wasn't quite out. (chuckles) So the wastebasket started to burn. (laughs) It's a good thing I wasn't fired. It didn't do anything but just a little flame in the wastebasket. Somebody had gone in and found it. (laughs) Anyhow, that was one of the adventures.

But Mrs. Gayle who was the supervisor of this department, I had never really appreciated her because of what she said to me when I was first hired about not telling the other girls that I was going to be receiving $100 a month. She let us know in no uncertain terms that she knew how to handle us. She said, "You know"—She didn't use those words, but she used other words. She said, "I've had a lot of experience in the Indian reservation taking care of young girls like you people."

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Gatewood

It was directed to all of you.

Hurt

Oh yes. It was directed to all of us, the blacks, and I was the only Asian there. And I thought, "What a woman!" (laughs) She wanted to know that she knew how to handle us. That we better not step out of line. Well, one day, I had this friend who was a single woman, slightly older than I. She was very nice, and she worked in downtown, in the area where I worked. So she said to me one day, "Let's have lunch." And I said, "Sure."

So I met her, and we had lunch, and I was a little bit late coming back—a few minutes late. I knew that. She looked like she—thunder, like this, "How dare I come in late." She didn't say that, but . . . . So I went to her . . . . And there's a large closet. It's got food and stuff in it. Not a clothes closet, you understand—off of this place. She said, "Come in there." So I (chuckles) go in there. "You are this many minutes late. You cannot be late again. How dare you be late?"—on and on. She was making such a big to-do about it. I kind of smiled. She didn't like it at all. She wanted me to be crying or something—I think—(chuckles) because she made such a big deal about it. I said, "Well, Mrs. Gayle, I'm sorry. I didn't know that I was going to be late. I won't let it happen again." I kind of smiled as I said this, and it really upset her. "See that it never happens again." (laughs) She was so mad. (laughs)

Because I guess those other girls were never ever were late from their lunch. (laughs) Because there was a place where you could bring your sack lunch and eat in the place, you see? Where we took our breaks and so on. So maybe these girls probably ate there. It was cheaper to bring your lunch, of course. And I did that. I used to bring lunch. But this one time, I had this friend who invited me to lunch. (chuckles)

Gatewood

So during this time, were you still with this family?

Hurt

No.

Gatewood

Okay. You had moved.

Hurt

I had found a place—In the meantime, my sister had come out. She and I found a place together. That was another really funny experience. I have two sisters, one of whom had married this soldier who went to the Pacific. She became pregnant before her husband went overseas. So when she was about six months or so pregnant, when she decided that she wanted to be with us, which is natural. She had no husband. She didn't want to live alone when she was going to have her baby. So she came from Minneapolis to Chicago to live with my other sister who had come out of camp in the meantime.

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So the three of us were together, and we found a place, a duplex, one on top of the other. We got the place upstairs. This woman, Miss Watson—I'll never forget Miss Watson. She said to us after we moved in that this was her war effort. She was making room (chuckles) for us. She was very proud of the fact that she was sacrificing, because she lived there, too. I think it had three bedrooms. She occupied one bedroom. One sister and I occupied another bedroom because that was the only space there was. And the other sister slept in the dining area with a screen to hide this little cot. Then, soon my brother—We had this brother, youngest—he came out and he joined us. So he stayed with us. But the poor guy had no place to sleep except the enclosed porch, which was very, very, very cold. Poor guy (chuckles), he slept there.

So Miss Watson said, "I'm making a sacrifice in renting this out to you folks." She was getting quite a nice sum because every room was $20. She was getting $80 from the four of us. Then, there was a Japanese American couple. The husband didn't live there because he worked somewhere and lived elsewhere, but would come on the weekends to visit with his wife. The wife just lived there. So there were actually five of us. I don't know exactly where she slept.

But anyhow, Miss Watson was so very, very proud. She said, "Did you know that I am a Daughter of the American Revolution?" DAR people are very, very proud of the fact that they are descendent from the daughters of the American Revolution. Miss Watson was one of them. She told us that right away. We were supposed to kowtow or something, (laughs) I think. But she thought that she was doing her bit to the war effort by renting us this space.

Gatewood

Did you interact with her at the house very much?

Hurt

Not very much. She told us about her litigation. I couldn't care less, but she told us about all her problems. So I was not listening very carefully, but apparently she had some kind of (chuckles) legal problems in Florida where she owns some property, she told us. She went on and on (chuckles) about her litigations. But that was our experience, but we didn't stay there that long because with the baby coming and all, we just had to find another space. We did move to another facility.

Gatewood

So all the while you're finding housing, did you have any trouble securing housing during this time? You said that the housing situation was pretty bad.

Hurt

Yes, but we did find another house, one-story house, to move to in Chicago. Because this was upstairs, and we didn't like the idea of climbing up and down. I didn't think it was good for my sister who was about to have her

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baby, having to climb up and down the stairs with her little baby and all that. So we moved to a house. It's still in Chicago, near the Loop.

All of us moved together to this place, and lived there. My sister had her baby. She took her baby and moved in with her husband's two sisters who were living in Washington D.C. She went over there with the baby because they invited her to come and stay with them. So she did. I, in the meantime, had joined the WACs [Women's Army Corps] and went to Snelling.

The one that lives with me now, an unmarried sister stayed. She was the only one who stayed. My brother was recruited into the army. All of us scattered sort of, except for my one sister who stayed and lived there for several years.

Gatewood

In terms of getting the housing, like finding these housing opportunities, how did you go about doing that?

Hurt

I don't remember how it was that we found it. It's just vague. I don't remember.

Gatewood

Do you recall the WRA having any kind of—?

Hurt

We probably went back there again—I'm sure—to see what was listed there. I don't remember that, but I think that's what I did.

Gatewood

In Chicago, did you have much contact with the Japanese American community there, or did you hear—?

Hurt

No, not much.

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Gatewood

We were talking about interaction, actually, with the Japanese community, and you said that it was fairly minimal in Chicago?

Hurt

Yes. Every once in while we would run into someone we had known before, but they lived elsewhere, and we never just did anything together, or anything like that. We didn't do too much together—as far as I could remember—at that time. You see you have to remember that I didn't live in Chicago too long. I think all of 18 months, 19 months, something like that.

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Let me tell you something very interesting that happened to us. I forgot this. We met through somebody—My sister who came later from camp, she was in a camp at least one year more than I [was]. While she was there, she was working in the school system. I don't know what she did. I have to ask her. Anyway, she met a Caucasian teacher who was in camp. In camp, they employed not only the people who were in camp who were qualified to teach, but they also employed outside people. So there were Caucasian people. My sister met one of them, who said, "Oh, I know someone I want you to look up when you go to Chicago." [This is what this person said] when she found out that my sister was coming to Chicago.

So my sister looked up this—And they happened to be living in a—what they call—residential housing for single women. They had such a thing in Chicago. Apparently, it was needed because a lot of young women would come into Chicago from outlying areas to work. So they had what they called residents for single women. Well, this person that [my sister] was referred to, lived there. So Fusako, my sister, ended up living there.

That was later, but in the meantime we met these Caucasian women. They were very, very kind to us. Through them, we met Ethel. Now Ethel, who is still living—she's ten years older than I, and I must go see her—befriended us. She and her husband were very kind—they happened to be Jewish, too—very kind—not her husband, but she happened to be Jewish—and befriended us, and invited us to their home for dinners and things like that. [They would] plan picnics. [They] did all kinds of nice little social things.

We really were lucky in that we met this person. Through her we [were able to] meet a few other people, but we [always] felt the closest towards Ethel. [She was the person who was really friendly, generous, and considerate and everything. So our friends were like her, and her niece, and people that she knew. We became friends. They happened not to be Japanese American girls.

After I came back here, years later, she came, too. So we picked up our friendship. She still lives here, but not here. She lives in Riverside

now. I need to go see her. She's in her nineties. She's getting on in years. But she really made our stay in Chicago very, very good, because she befriended us, and showed us things, and introduced us to other people, things like that. It was nice having someone like that open up and make us feel welcomed. But on the whole, people in Chicago were very friendly. I have to say this that it's a very dirty city. There's a lot of soot, because they used coal. And the windowsills you have to clean everyday, because there would be black stuff.

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Gatewood

Oh dear.

Hurt

Yeah—on the windowsills. It's that kind of place. And the buildings have to be washed every once in a while because they get grimy with the coal soot and things like that. But the people were friendly, and they had no preconceived notions about how to treat us. There were very few Japanese before the war there, so most people didn't know much about Japanese or Japanese Americans. So they were friendly, and they treated us like they would treat anybody else. It was quite a different story from here in Southern California, or in California as a whole. So we felt very welcomed. They were very open to us in other words. So I always have very fond memories of Chicago.

Gatewood

That's wonderful. I think that's a good segue to talking about your involvement in the military. Tell me about that. How did you decide to get involved? And this is in 19—what you are talking about?

Hurt

'44.

JG1944.

Hurt

Towards the end of '44. Somehow, I heard about the—Oh, I knew about the Japanese language school run by the military in Snelling, because my brother-in-law was a graduate of that. I thought I was not too happy with the kind of work I was doing. Incidentally, when I left the Chicago Tuberculosis Institute, I went to work for the federal government, which I found right in the Loop, in Chicago at the V-Mail Station. Do you know about the V-Mail Station?

Gatewood

No.

Hurt

No. I don't think you had heard about it. During the war, they set up these places where they processed the letters that were to go overseas to Europe or to the Pacific. They could not afford to send letters that took up too much space, so they microfilmed them. Put them on little microfilms and they sent the films overseas. There they printed them and gave them to the soldiers. They were called V—like in victory—mail stations where they did the processing.

I got a job there. It's a federal job under the army. And they were all male supervisors. They were army personnel, sergeants and so on. But the workers that actually did the work to get the letters opened up so they could be microfilmed and so on were civilian employees. And I got a job there. It was interesting work.

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Gatewood

Yeah. It sounds like an interesting job.

Hurt

Yes. What you did was you got a stack of letters that family, sisters, sweethearts, mothers wrote to their sons overseas, and you opened them up, took out any enclosures. I don't know, what did we do? Let me see. Oh. If they had enclosures, we would seal them back, because they were going to go that way. But those that didn't have any enclosures—you know, they would have locks (chuckles) of hair and things like that. You know, the sweethearts would send their hair or things like that. Or, they would put a great big gooey lip print, a kiss on the letter at the bottom. Well, those can't go through the microfilm, because it would mess up the film. So those we folded back.

But the rest that didn't have enclosures, or lip print on, we would stack up as we opened them. Stack them up opened. The men would come and collect them, and they would put it through—I didn't know where they did this, because we weren't there where they did the microfilming of these letters. They microfilmed and sent the microfilms overseas because it didn't take up much space, you see? And I think they needed a lot of space. They had to send material over to Europe, or to the Pacific Theater, war materials that the soldiers needed, right?

Gatewood

Right.

Hurt

So they wanted to save as much space as possible. That's why they microfilmed them.

Gatewood

That's clever.

Hurt

And they were called V-Mail Stations. They had them in all the big cities.

Gatewood

So you worked there?

Hurt

I worked there, and in the meantime I knew about the Japanese language school run by the military. And I thought, "That might be more interesting to do than this thing that I was doing." (chuckles) This wasn't so very inspiring. So I contacted them somehow. I don't know how I did it. I must have written to them or something. I got correspondence back saying, we're thinking about forming a WAC unit; would you be interested in that? They did form one WAC unit. By the time we finished our training at the language school, the war was over, because I didn't go there until January of '45. The war was over in—when was the—?

Gatewood

August of '45.

---

Hurt

August of '45. So while I was still training, the war was over. That one group of WACs was the only ones that went through the school. There was no need to train anymore, because it wasn't needed. So when we graduated, part of the class was sent to Japan as a part of the army of occupation. Then, the rest of us were sent to the East [Coast]. We went first to Maryland, but we didn't stay there very long. Then, we were moved to Washington, D.C. to the—what they call—the Washington Document Center, where we did translation.

Gatewood

Tell me about your training. You decided—You made the decision you wanted to be a part of the WACs, and then you went to Minnesota from there?

Hurt

No. I went from Chicago to the WAC training center in Des Moines. It's about six weeks of basic training to become a soldier. Everybody has to go through basic training. In the army it's called basic training. In the navy it's called boot camp. Everybody goes through these to become soldier or sailor, whatever. So I went. I was the only—I'll show you a picture I have. I was the only one in that particular class taking the basic training, the only Japanese American. (laughs)

Gatewood

Wow. What was that like?

Hurt

Well, lots of marching. (laughs) That was going to prepare us to be a good (chuckles) soldier. I don't know what we did otherwise besides marching around. A lot of cleaning of the barracks. That was to teach you discipline. We had to get down—once a week, on Friday night—Friday after we did whatever we were doing—we had to get down on our hands and knees and scrub the floor.

It was a wooden floor—with a bucket and a big scrub brush (laughs) on our hands and knees. That was called discipline. We had to scrub and scrub. (laughs) Of course, we got fresh bedding, so we changed the sheets. Then, we had to stand inspection. We would stand by our little bunks. They were double bunks. One girl slept up there, and the other girl slept down below. They were lined up like this on both sides with a wide aisle in the middle. We had to stand for inspection every Saturday (chuckles). Stand straight as a rock.

The WAC sergeant came by with a little girl who had a notebook and a pencil ready to write down. She would come (chuckles) down, look at us, look at our uniform to see if we had the uniform on correctly, to see if our tie was straight and all that, and to look at the bunk beds to see if the beds were made correctly. You cannot have the top blanket dip or anything. It had to be taut.

---

So one day, at inspection, this sergeant pulled my bed apart. She said, "Make that over again." I got a demerit. The blanket was not taut so you could bounce a fifty-cent piece and it would bounce up. It had to be that taut. (chuckles) And it wasn't quite taut enough. She didn't go around bouncing the coin, you understand, but she could see it was dipping a little bit. So she [makes noise] and throw it down on the floor. "Make that bed over again." (chuckles)

Gatewood

I guess these were all non-commissioned officers, or—?

Hurt

Oh, this was a sergeant.

Gatewood

Just a sergeant. So were they women mostly or—?

Hurt

They were all women. This was all WAC, WAC training center. They were all women, and they liked to show their power. They liked (laughs) to show their power and authority. I think these women really enjoyed that part. Going around tearing up people's things, and saying, "Do it over again." (chuckles) Make them feel like, "I'm in charge here." But anyway, that was my experience. And when I was finished training—and it happened to be that I was the only Asian in my whole entire class. It was a big class.

Gatewood

How were you treated by your class?

Hurt

Oh, fine. Nobody treated me any differently than they would treat each other. Away from the West Coast, people were very kind and liberal, because they didn't have the kind of historic experience with Asians. You see, the West Coast people—starting with the Chinese who came to build the railroads and work in the mines. That was before the Japanese ever came. They had these prejudices. These were so-called coolies who were imported from China to work. So, they had already had kind of an attitude towards Asians.

So when the Japanese came later, and they just transferred the same feelings about, they're just coolie type people, to look down on; that kind of the feeling. Whereas, away from the West Coast and the immediate area like Arizona, in the middle America, they didn't have this experience, so they treated us like anybody else.

You see they didn't have this history of treating the Asians differently. Whereas the California people—Nevada, California, mostly California, Oregon, Washington, had this history. Coolie Chinese coming first to work on railways and in the coalmines, and then the Japanese coming over. They started to have these feelings about the Japanese because they were good farmers. When they came, they didn't come to work on railways and mines.

---

They came to work—I think my father, he was a little guy came to work on the lumber mills. He said it was very hard, so he quit that very shortly because he was such a tiny guy, that it was hard to work in the lumber mills. But anyhow, the immigrants came to work on the farms. Soon, they were farming their own little pieces of land.

Gatewood

So there wasn't this kind of historical past events in terms of your treatment in the Midwest?

Hurt

They didn't have this, you see? So [we] were treated more like just like any other people. That was a refreshing experience.

Gatewood

Well, I can well imagine. (chuckles)

Hurt

It was. We just felt that people were extremely friendly. (chuckles) They were just normal behavior that they were exhibiting towards us, but it seemed like they were extremely friendly. (chuckles)

Gatewood

You went to Fort Snelling after your training at the WACs, is that correct?

Hurt

Yes, because I was already committed to go to Fort Snelling. I had to take the basic first before I could be assigned. So I knew where I was going. I was the only one after the basic training to be on the train to go to Minnesota. (chuckles) And I must have been a sight. I had to take my duffel bag. You know these duffel bags are this long, and when it's full of your gear, it's this big. I had to take that with me and the gas mask. They insisted. I wasn't going out to the front, but they insisted that every one of us had to take our gas masks. (laughs) I'm taking this gas mask with me.

When I got off the train in Minneapolis, a little soldier who came to meet me, just laughed. He said, "Where are you going with that? The gas mask?" He laughed. (chuckles) And I felt so funny because I thought this was the way everybody traveled. I mean, all the soldiers. (laughs) He thought that was so funny with this gas mask, like I was going to the front or something. (laughs)

Anyhow, that was my basic training. I got to Snelling. I think it was around April. Well, the WAC group had not come together as yet. They said they were waiting for the Hawaiian WACs—the Hawaiian women who were going to be WACs. They were training at Fort Oglethorpe, which is in Georgia, I believe, Fort Oglethorpe. There was another WAC training center there. That was the second one. They were sent there for I don't know what reason, but they were training. They hadn't finished so they hadn't come to Snelling as yet. So they weren't going to start classes until all of the WACs were together.

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In the meantime, I worked in the headquarters office. I worked as a typist, naturally. That was the only skill I had. So I worked as a typist until the other WACs came and joined us. I worked in the—Major Aiso was the head of the language school.

You have heard of Major Aiso?

Gatewood

Yes. Heard of him.

Hurt

Well, I worked in his office. That is, he had his little private office here, and right outside the door, I had my little typewriter. (chuckles) Temporarily I worked there. And I have to tell you a funny incident. One day, Major said to me, "Private"—because I still was a private—"I want you to go to my home and pick up my watch." And I thought he said his wash. That's how I heard which is a funny thing. But he ordered me; I had to go.

See the officers lived in homes that were on the post, not too far. There were these houses in a row, and all the officers lived with their families in these houses. So I walked over there and knocked on the door, and his wife comes out and I said, "The major wanted me to bring his wash back." And she looked at me, "Wash? I don't quite understand." And she got on the phone. She laughs and said, "He wanted his watch! He forgot his watch." (chuckles) And it sounded like wash to me, and I thought it was so strange, but I thought, "Well, when you're ordered to go somewhere, you don't question it." You don't say, "Wash, Major?" You don't say those things. You say, "Yes sir," and you go. The wife calls. (laughs) [I said] the major said to bring his wash. She looked so funny. She got on the phone. She said, "The major wants his watch!" So I took his watch. Anyway, the classes in the meantime started after a while, so I started classes. You want me to talk about the classes?

Gatewood

Yeah. A little bit, if you like.

Hurt

Well, we went from 8:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. with a lunch break. It's Japanese, you would think why does it take all day like that? 8:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. with a lunch break? We had to study—It was required homework study. You had to go back to the classroom to do that. We had to march both ways, you know. We had to march (chuckles) over there—march to lunch, march back, and march home, then march back to the school to do your evening required studies. You didn't have to—if you didn't have a homework assignment, you didn't have to do that, but you had to study. It was a study period from 7:00 to 9:00 P.M. every night.

---

Gatewood

Quite a life.

Hurt

Yeah. You study Japanese language, military terminology, and Japanese geography. I don't know; there were about five subjects. I don't remember all of them. Each of us had a desk with dictionaries, big ones, little ones—big ones about like that (gestures size) all lined up. English, Japanese dictionaries. We studied. We had our lessons. We had lessons in history, geography, military terminology. I don't know what else—about five subjects.

At night you were supposed to go back and review things that you didn't quite understand. (chuckles) There was a monitor there to be sure—He walked around to see that we were studying not visiting. So that was quite a thing. All day long, and go back after dinner at night for your own homework. We did that eight months.

Do you know something? I learned a lot and did my job at Washington, D.C. The minute I got discharged, I didn't want to think one thing about Japanese language. I didn't want to even look at it. I managed to forget everything except the very simple things. (laughs)

Gatewood

It's funny how the minds work.

Hurt

Isn't that funny? And my sister takes the Rafu Shimpo

, the Japanese newspaper. There is an English section and Japanese section. I don't ever, ever look at the Japanese section (laughs) at all. So I'm sorry to say to the army that I did not benefit from their teachings. I did what I was required to do in the army, but after that it was gone.

Gatewood

So you went to Washington D.C. after you had finished your training program?

Hurt

I didn't go there directly. I was assigned to—what they call—Pacific Military Intelligence Research Section. They call it PACMIRS—up in Maryland. But we had to walk in the snow. It was on the top of the mountain, there was this military post. It snows a lot.

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When I got there, the snow was this deep on the ground where you walked. They issued to us—what they call—Artics. They were things that went up to here, buckled up to here. You walked in through the snow from your barracks. It wasn't such a long walk—not as if I had to walk miles and miles. It's just (chuckles) within the post. Very short distance I walked to work. But I wasn't there very long because war had ended, as I said, before even I graduated, so that they were consolidating all of these things. So we were sent to Washington Document Center, which was in Washington, D.C. So that was where I ended my career.

Gatewood

What kind of work were you doing at that time?

Hurt

Same thing, translation.

Gatewood

Translating.

Hurt

Translating documents, very uninteresting.

Gatewood

(chuckles) Documents.

Hurt

(laughs) It would have been fun if we were translating novels, or some mystery story, or something like that. (chuckles)

Gatewood

It's probably very technical.

Hurt

Technical stuff. That's what I did for a very short time. I didn't do it very long because there was no need. The war was over. There was no need to go through all that stuff anymore.

Gatewood

So you are discharged—?

Hurt

I'm discharged.

Gatewood

—from the army, and then what do you decide to do?

Hurt

I decide to come home, because my parents were home here already.

Gatewood

This was in 1946, is that correct?

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Hurt

Yeah. I came home. I had [the] GI bill.

[The] GI bill was a bill that they passed for us to have college education that the government would pay the cost. So this is postponed all these years that I wanted to go to college (chuckles) when I got out of high school. Many, many, many years later, I'm going to college. But I didn't feel too out of place, because there were a lot of male veterans who were attending college under [the] GI [bill]. It was one of the best laws that the U.S. government passed. Otherwise, a lot of young GIs would not have had college education. But thanks to that, many, many got college education that otherwise would not have gotten [one]. I got my college education, finally. (chuckles)

I went to USC [University of Southern California]. Came home to live here. I had no car. I had no means of transportation, except by bus. To go to UCLA [University of California, Los Angeles,] which was my preference, there was no way of getting there. I could get there. I could ride a bus towards downtown and transfer to go west to UCLA, right? It would take me forever and ever. And reverse coming home, it was the same thing. It was out of the question, so the easiest one was USC. It goes almost straight up Western Avenue, change buses and go east, and I'd be there. So I chose that simply because that was the easiest school to get to. There were no other universities around. So I went there.

Gatewood

So even before you came back, you decided that after your discharge, you wanted to come back to Los Angeles?

Hurt

Oh yes. I had no other plans. I wanted to come back here.

Gatewood

Were you concerned about what the situation would be like in Los Angeles prior to your arrival?

Hurt

No. I was not. I didn't give it a second thought.

Gatewood

So you came back to Los Angeles. Describe what it was like, and after the war, what was the—?

Hurt

I was discharged.

Gatewood

So you came back to Gardena?

---

Hurt

Right here to this place, except this house wasn't here. It was our old house that was demolished long time ago. But anyhow, I came back. I lived with my folks. Went to school to SC. In the meantime, my married sister, whose husband had come back from overseas, made their home in L.A., right close to SC. It was owned by his folks. His folks were renting it out—this house. They had another home a little bit west from there. But this was very close to SC.

My sister and her husband, and their two children—by that time I started to go to school to SC—I guess they had two children. Anyhow, I started to commute the way I told you. But after a year of it, my sister invited me to stay with them and go to school because it was so close to SC. I didn't have to take all this long bus ride. So I stayed with my sister and her husband and their children and finished my school at SC. By the way, I went to SC continuously for five years. That's because after undergraduate work, I wanted to do some graduate work, because I discovered that there wasn't much I wanted to do with just a B.A. I was not a science major. I was letters arts and science major. Letters, arts. More letters than arts, not science.

So there wasn't much you could do with a B.A, bachelor's degree. At least, that's what I felt. So I told mother—he was waiting for me to graduate, I guess. (chuckles) I said, "I'm going back to school." She said, "What?" I said, "I can't do anything with this degree," which was—I majored in sociology and minored in English. And I said to my parents, "I can't do anything with sociology unless I want to teach sociology in college, and I would have to take more units. I don't want to do anything with English"—because I was an English Lit. major. So I could teach that, but I wasn't interested in teaching. (chuckles) Ironically, I ended up teaching. Not English Literature, but I ended up teaching—but that's long ways off. So I said, "I have to go back to school." (chuckles)

I went back and enrolled in the School of Social Work. The School of Social Work is a two-year course. You can't get your master's in less than two years. I got my undergraduate degree in three years, because I went through summer sessions. I already had some college courses under my belt, because when I was living in Chicago, I went to evening junior college.

The Central YMCA had a college right in town. And it was an Englewood evening Junior College. I went to both. So I had a few college classes under my belt. So then, I started SC. I was enrolled as an advanced freshman. So I got my B.A., in three years. Then, I turned right around and enrolled in the School of Social Work, which was two more years.

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So I went to SC for five years straight. It was a long haul. It seemed interminable, but I did finally graduate. In the meantime, I got married before I graduated. I met my future husband there in the School of Social Work and got married.

So after graduation, I got a job. We were living in this little hole in the wall place, right near the campus while we were still finishing up our school. Neither of us had a penny to our name, except for whatever we could earn doing odd jobs on campus or something like that. We had a little bit of the education benefit left—both of us from our—He was not a GI. He was a navy person, but we all got some benefit. But it was very, very nominal. So we finally finished, and we got our jobs.

I started working at the Los Angeles Girl Scouts Council. It was not a bad job, but it was not a very high-paying job. After I worked there for a few years—you understand we were married. We decided that we wanted to raise a family. Well, I soon discovered that I could not conceive. There was something wrong with me. I went to the doctor, and no hope. So I said, "I'm quitting work, and we're going to adopt." And my husband was quite willing for that to happen.

So our two children are adopted. I adopted the boy first. When we went to the adoption agency, we didn't ask for any gender. We didn't say boy or girl. We said any available child. Since we said that we are a mixed marriage, we would be happy to get a child who is mixed. It didn't have to be a pure Caucasian, or a pure Japanese, or a pure anything. They soon called us very quickly, because other Caucasian couples that we knew who were adopting were told, "You have to wait two to two and a half years." We were notified within six months that they had a baby for us, an infant, which was quite a thing.

Every adopting couple wants an infant because they want to raise their own child. But they take whatever they can get because they don't want to wait forever and ever. We were living in this apartment, and there was this young couple living in the same building on the same floor. We got to know them. They were also adopting. They were told you have to wait two or two and a half years.

We got our son within six months because we told the agency it doesn't have to be a pure Caucasian, pure Japanese, pure anything. And we got one with a Japanese mother, Caucasian father. Isn't that something? Three-month-old infant. Our son John. We were quite happy. I quit work and stayed home with him. It was really nice.

---

Five years later my husband says to me, "You know, John ought to have a sibling, a brother or a sister. So what do you think about adopting another child?" I said, "Oh my gosh. Here I am in my forties. I don't know that I want to go through raising another little one." But he persuaded me, so I said, "Okay."

We went back to that agency and said, "We would like another child." And within six months, we got this child who was part—father was Caucasian, the mother was a mixture of Hawaiian, Japanese, Chinese, and who knows what else. That's that girl right there. See the girl? She came from a father, who was Caucasian [and] a mother who was all these different things.

They were not married. They did not want to marry each other. So they put up the child for adoption, and we got her. We're very happy. She's a very fine young woman. Very fine, Nancy is. She's really a good—And John is, too, my son. She was less than two months old. It was like raising your own child. You have an infant. I tell everybody, I can't feel the difference between your own birth child and someone you adopted especially an infant. I don't know how I would feel differently. So we adopted these two children.

Gatewood

That's wonderful. I'm going to step back a little bit. You've covered a lot of ground, I think. But I would just like to ask you a few questions, then we will pick up from where you left off. Just in terms of coming back to L.A., you've come back to your hometown. What kind of changes did you see from the prewar to the postwar that were evident, or were there any?

Hurt

Not very much. I didn't see too much change. The whole community here, which is Redondo Beach Boulevard, east of here, a lot of stores and so on, that wasn't there. It came after I moved back home. It was still like the way it was before the war. The corner had gas stations. Both corners had gas—I think three corners had gas stations. One corner had a Chevrolet dealership, right here where Western Avenue crosses Redondo Beach Boulevard. And there were things like wholesale nurseries, a few open air markets, things like that, but nothing the way it is now since I came back.

Gatewood

What about the Japanese American community here? Did you find that people had started to come back—Japanese Americans—or was that less pronounced than before the war?

Hurt

Well, there were some—a few back who used to live here, who had come back, but not very many.

Gatewood

And the community on Western Avenue; had that disappeared?

---

Hurt

Yeah. All this—there was a Chinese restaurant there, but that was about it. There was none of the other little shops that used to be run by Japanese. There were none of that.

---

Gatewood

—the Caucasian community for example. Did you find that you or your family was victim of any discrimination?

Hurt

I can't say that I felt any. There was no overt discrimination that I feel. So I just didn't pay much attention. I couldn't start SC right away because I came back here in September. The classes had already started. So I had to wait until the semester ended or next year. I actually worked until the following year, 1947. That's when I started SC.

Gatewood

What did you do during that period?

Hurt

I worked. First I worked at—what they used to call [it], where they give relief? What do they call that? The office where people who are poor—?

Gatewood

Like the Welfare Council, or—?

Hurt

They didn't call it that. It was another name. I worked there as a clerk typist again. And then, where else did I work? It seems to me that I worked somewhere else.

Gatewood

Did you have any difficulty finding employment at this time?

Hurt

No. I didn't feel any overt discrimination or prejudices, because I found work easily. I worked for this—I'm sorry, I can't remember what they were called. I rode with a Caucasian woman who also worked there from Gardena. I didn't own a car, so she used to pick me up and bring me home. It was a very nice arrangement. She was a widow with a little girl, and she had to work. So my experience with the community was positive, because this was a Caucasian woman. She just assumed that I would ride with her. The other employees at this place—There were no other Asians. It happened not to be any Asians working there. I didn't feel any difference in the way I was treated.

Gatewood

So tell me a little bit about school. You met your husband—

Hurt

Yes, in graduate school, in social work.

Gatewood

In graduate school. In 1949—It was only in 1949, really, that anti-miscegenation laws were appealed for the most part, and that Japanese and

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Caucasian, for example, could marry. What was it like dating a Caucasian during that time period? Did you feel any kind of—?

Hurt

No. I didn't.

Gatewood

You were saying that you really didn't sense that there were any kinds of antagonism towards you dating a Caucasian during this time?

Hurt

No.

Gatewood

How did your family feel about it?

Hurt

Well, my brother was just thrilled to pieces. I guess he thought it was about time I married, I guess. I was living at home living with my parents at that time. I used to spend weekends back home. And [I was] still with my sister to attend school, but Friday night I would come home. So I told by brother that I was planning to marry this guy, and he was so thrilled. He rushed into the kitchen and opened a bottle of champagne. (chuckles) He drank. He toasted the whole thing with champagne. But my parents didn't say one way or the other. They didn't say, "How awful that you didn't find a nice Japanese boy to marry." They didn't say that. On the other hand, they didn't say, "A Caucasian?" They didn't say that, either. They kind of accepted it.

You see, because I was not a teenager or anything. I was in my thirties. See, I was 36. My husband was 25. That was the only thing, but I didn't tell them. (chuckles) He was 11 years younger than I. He was 25 years old, and I was 36, when we were married. It's funny, when we were going together, I sensed that it was getting more than just a casual date—that he was getting more and more serious—I thought I'd better tell him that I was much older than him. So I told him. He said, "You know"—and I told him how much older I was—he tells me, "Never mind. It doesn't matter." So I said, "Okay. (chuckles) Just so you know and don't accuse me of deceiving him [you]."

So he knew when we were married, but I was almost 11 years older, not quite, but almost 11 years older. I was born in 1915, but the beginning of the year. January 3^rd was my birthday. He was born in 1925, but in the end of the year. He was born December 4^th of '25. So there was almost 11 months there added to ten, so it was almost eleven years.

Gatewood

Did you meet his family at some point?

Hurt

Oh yes. No, not at the time we got married, because he came from Colorado. And we were married here. But his sister—he only had a sister. They are the only two, he and his sister. His sister, much older than he, but not as old as I

---

was—was already married with three children, and she had just recently left her husband. I think she was probably divorced. But this happened in Texas, and she came to California to be with this guy she had known from before. They subsequently got married, but anyway, at the time she wasn't.

So the wedding—Chuck, my husband to be, and I—[our] wedding took place practically on the campus of SC. There's a Methodist church that is practically on the campus, part of the campus. Well, we were married there, and the sister with her three children came. So it was kind of nice to have his family even if his parents weren't able to come.

I don't know whether his parents put up a big fuss when they heard about it or not, but the following year, we drove down to Colorado to meet the folks. They were very, very nice. They were very welcoming, very nice to me. So everything went smoothly.

My parents weren't making any great objections, either. They weren't sure how it was going to turn out, but they didn't make a big fuss about it. Because I was older, they decided that I knew what I was doing. If I was an 18-, or a 16-, 17-year-old, they might have really stepped in to talk about it and point out what I'm getting into and all that. But I was 35, 36 when I got married. I'm sure they felt, "Well, she ought to know what she's doing. After all, you're—." (chuckles) So they didn't object. They didn't say anything that indicated that they objected. And they were at the wedding, and all their Issei friends who were invited came. (laughs) And our whole class came. I don't mean every last one, but there was a big bunch that came.

So it was a very nice wedding. And Chuck, my husband-to-be, had a very broken down little car, which was almost ready to—should have been put in the junk, but he was still chugging along with it. It was not suitable for a honeymoon trip. We were going to go a little place in the mountains for our honeymoon. Remember, neither of us had much money at all. So we were going to a mountain cabin somewhere for our honeymoon. We couldn't take his little pile of junk, because it would probably break down (chuckles) in the mountains, so we borrowed one of his pals—classmate's car. He was a very nice guy, generous to loan us his car. And we drove that car and went on our little one-week honeymoon and came back and finished our school. We graduated together.

Gatewood

So at this time that's when you start working for the—?

Hurt

—Girl Scouts. My husband worked for the Veterans Administration Psychiatric Hospital where veterans were being treated.

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Gatewood

Yeah, right. Okay.

Hurt

One side of Wilshire, south side is a regular hospital, and the north side is psychiatric hospital. So he worked on the north side, the psychiatric hospital. So that's how we started off married life.

Gatewood

So at this time the Japanese American community slowly—We're talking 1950s now. The community is slowly starting to reconstitute themselves.

Hurt

I imagine so, but I didn't have much to do with the Japanese American community. We graduated, went from SC, we lived there in that little apartment that we were in for a while after we graduated. Then, we moved to Westwood. So there weren't that many Japanese living—there weren't any that we could see living in Westwood at that time. We were on Veteran Avenue in one of the apartments, north of Wilshire—north of Wilshire, south of Sunset, across the street from the cemetery.

Gatewood

Oh, I know exactly where you're taking about.

Hurt

Yeah, across the street. Quite a bit north of Wilshire there are a whole bunch of apartment houses. We were living in one of them.

Gatewood

Prior to the war, and for some time beyond, there were restrictive covenants in that area. It was very difficult for people of color to buy in. Did you ever recall having any problems with that?

Hurt

No. Afterwards, we had—Chuck and I—when we were looking for a house to buy.

Gatewood

You did?

Hurt

There was only one overt experience. They would advertise the sale. The realtor was taking us around to houses that we wanted to buy. This was some years later I'm talking about. We went to one home, and the owner took one look at me and slammed the door on our face. They didn't want to sell to anybody but whomever they felt they wanted to sell to. But that was only one time. But that was some years after.

Gatewood

Where was this?

Hurt

In L.A., somewhere, Mar Vista area? I think it was somewhere around there. I don't remember.

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Gatewood

So your family was living here in the Gardena area. Your parents, at least, are living here in the Gardena area, during that time. What was your level of interaction with them?

Hurt

Well, I saw them—We had them over to our house, too, but I saw them about every two or three months, not frequent. It was quite a bit to—You must remember, this was before the freeway. I'm talking about before the freeways.

Gatewood

Before the construction of interstates 405 and 10 freeways?

Hurt

Yeah. It was quite a jog to come on down to see them, so we didn't go very frequently.

Gatewood

What were your parents doing during this time?

Hurt

My father and mother started a backyard nursery after they came back after the war. You see, this lot goes 100 wide and—you see, the next door house is ours, too. It's one lot—101-foot wide lot, and it goes back 170. So there was a lot of space, and this space was open. There was no house here.

There [was] a lot of space to start a nursery. You know where you plant little flats to sell to nurseries? So that's what they did, because mother had experience with that. So she started to—I want to show you something. I'll show you afterwards. So that's what they did. It provided them with an income. They didn't get wealthy or anything, but they kept them going.

Gatewood

So you were somewhat disconnected, then, from the larger Japanese American community after you got married?

Hurt

Yeah. We were, because after we moved to Westwood, there were hardly any Japanese that we would encounter anywhere in the stores or anything. If we went to Sawtelle

—You know the community of Sawtelle where the Japanese before the war were living, and after the war many of them had come back—I would have encountered a lot of Japanese. But I only went there to shop for some Japanese food or whatever. So I did not get to socialize with anybody, and we didn't belong to any church that had Japanese in it.

Gatewood

Did you have talk about camp, or the experiences you had had within your family? Did that ever come up with your parents, or do you ever recall many conversations about that?

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Hurt

Well, not very much. They had a very quiet time in camp, because they were older, and they just lived there until the camp closed. I don't think they had much to say about it. It wasn't something they chose to do, of course. I'm sure they were happy to come back to this place that they owned and not be in camp. We never had too much discussion about it.

One thing, I didn't live there very long. That was one of the reasons. If I had lived there all those years, '43, '44, '45—that's three years. I would have had a (chuckles) different kind of outlook, I'm sure, but it's just not something we shared. I don't think it was too bad. It's not an ideal situation—naturally (chuckles)—but it wasn't too bad for them. Well, I shouldn't say that, but they didn't say anything to indicate that they suffered a great deal.

Gatewood

You said that your parents didn't become citizens even after the Walter-McCarran Act of '52?

Hurt

My father did.

Gatewood

Your father did?

Hurt

Yes. My mother did not bother to, because one had to study English quite a lot and she just didn't feel up to it.

Gatewood

So how did your father feel about becoming an U.S. citizen?

Hurt

They had a lot of courses in camp even. Even before the McCarran Act, he was studying English at Rohwer. And after he came back, he studied some more. My father was very bookish, bookworm-type person, so studying came naturally to him. He came from a background where my grandfather was a schoolteacher. He was not a schoolteacher, but he taught school. What I'm saying is that my grandfather when the feudal system was abolished in Japan at the end of—I think it was in the—1860s, my grandfather and his wife and children suddenly had no way of earning a living.

Under a feudal system, you served a master, the lord of the realm, whoever. All of the soldiers, the samurais who served him, they didn't have to work, because they were paid being the follower of whoever was the ruler of the area. So when it was all abolished there was no such thing as a feudal system, everybody had to make their (chuckles) own living.

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My grandfather, the only thing he knew was to read and write, and all the samurai thing, swordsmanship, and things like that. So he and his family moved to this village, and the village people were very, very anxious for their young people to learn and go to school, because they were not allowed to learn very much, the ordinary people who were not samurai. So my grandfather started a village school.

That was my father's background, so studying came easily to him. He liked to read. He spent most of his time reading. He read everything he could lay his hands on—the paper, the magazines, the few books he had. He couldn't afford to buy books, but a few that he had, and so on. There were no libraries for Japanese at that time. Now they have nice libraries all over the place, but not at the time. Not in Gardena, anyway. Now I go to the Gardena library, and there's a whole big section, Japanese, Korean, other languages, too. So he spent his time reading. He didn't do very much of anything else besides visiting his friends.

Gatewood

At what point—I know that you and your husband eventually separated?

Hurt

Yes. We were married 26 years. I didn't know, really, that the marriage was in trouble. We never had big quarrels. We never had any terrible disagreements. Like any couple, every once in a while we would have differences of opinions about whatever, but it wasn't a big thing. We never fought very much about anything.

So it came as a complete surprise when he said he didn't love me anymore and that he found someone that he could really, really love. With that, he left. (chuckles) And I said, "Who?" but he didn't answer me. Because I had no idea that he was seeing anybody, or [that] he was so dissatisfied that he wanted to dissolve the marriage. There was no talk, so I wasn't prepared. I was in complete (chuckles) shock. But like I said, "Who?" or something like that. I know that my mouth fell open and nothing came out (chuckles) for a minute. And when I finally got my breath, I said, "Who?" But he didn't listen to me. We lived at that time in a two-story house. So he ran upstairs, and he came tripping down with a little overnight. He said, "I'll send for the rest of my things later." And he walked out.

Later, I found out that he went to live with this 18-year-old. (laughs) I found out through his sister, because she met the young girl. He stayed with her for six years, and on our sixth year of our—We were just separated. I thought that he was going to file for divorce. I consulted my lawyer right away when this happened, and he said, "Sit tight. Don't do anything," he told me. Which was the best advice. He said, "Just sit tight. Don't do anything. As long as he

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doesn't bother you, just sit and live in that house"—that we were paying for in Westwood—"and [advised] we'll see what happens." Well, six years went by, and I lived there. I borrowed money from my folks to pay the—what is it?

Gatewood

The mortgage?

Hurt

Mortgage. Well, I was handling the mortgage, because it was very low. We bought it in the '60s so, this was 26 years later, 1977, something like that. The mortgage payment was very low. I could manage it even though I worked part-time only. I could manage it. The only thing I couldn't manage was the property tax and the insurance, so I borrowed that from my folks to take care of it, because Chuck never gave me a penny (laughs), and I was dumb enough not to ask for it.

Anyhow, he came back the end of about six years. He called me and said, "I have something to discuss with you." I said, "Yes. Come on over." So we sat down across the dining room table, and I served coffee. He started to talk about this and that, and the great times we used to have with our children going camping, or visiting his folks in Colorado, and all that. And I was wondering when is he coming to the point? Finally, he said, "I decided to come back. That thing with Debbie is all over." I said, "What?" (laughs)

That was the last thing I expected for him to say [was] he wanted to come back to me. I had gone through all of this and had managed as much as I could. My son was already out of school and working, but my daughter was only 16. She graduated high school the next year, and went to Santa Monica City College, and then she transferred over to SC [University of Southern California], because her boyfriend was going to SC. She wanted to go to SC. I was struggling.

Six years had passed, and I did all of this with not a penny of help from my husband. So he comes and six years later, he wants to come back. I yelled, "What?" He said, "Oh, oh, oh." He discovered—he thought that I was going to say, "Welcome back, Chuck. I've been waiting for this day," or something. Instead, I acted so like that was last thing I expected. (chuckles) So he said, "Oh, oh, oh. What I meant was," he said. (chuckles) I lived in a big house with four bedrooms, three baths, and I was renting some of those bedrooms to UCLA students because I lived near UCLA, you understand? So that was some of the income that I had besides my part-time job.

He knew that I was renting some of the extra bedrooms. He said, "Why don't you just get rid of one of your students, and I could rent from you." I said, "Chuck, it will never work. I don't want to see you every day." (laughs) At

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that, he got up, he got so mad. I told him, "I don't want to see you every day coming and going." And I didn't want to cook for him. (laughs)

So he realized that it wasn't going to work. He thought I would welcome him back, and we would pick up where we left off. It wasn't going to happen. So he got up and he said, "Well, this house belongs to me as much as it does to you. We'll see about this." And he stomps out. [He said,] "I'm going to see my lawyer." I said, "Chuck, you do that." (laughs) He stepped out.

So I called my lawyer, and he said, "This is the time to file a divorce, because he does have a right to come in." I didn't know that, but he does have a right because he and I bought this house together. So he said, "If you file for a divorce, he can't come in while this proceeding is going on." I said, "Okay. I'll file for a divorce." So that's how we divorced the following year. The divorced finalized. When was it? December of '84 the divorce finalized. So it took that long.

Gatewood

Thank you for sharing that. I know that's not always an easy subject for people to talk about, but—

Hurt

Well, it's been quite a while. It's '98 now. (chuckles)

Gatewood

I appreciate that. I know that's not always [an] easy subject.

About moving to Gardena, when did you come back to this community? When did you decide that that was something you wanted to do?

Hurt

Well, actually, I had planned to retire from my job at the end of '84. I was teaching, by the way. It's ironic that I didn't want to teach when I was going to school, but I ended up teaching and enjoying every bit of it.

Gatewood

You taught adult school, right?

Hurt

Yes, adult school. First, I taught parent education. That was the subject. In adult school, they have in various stages in parent education, but I taught the parents of pre-school children. So in my class—it was daytime naturally, and the parents brought their pre-schooler. So it was a three-hour class, 9:00 A.M. to 12:00 P.M.

And the parents brought their preschoolers, and I had a complete nursery program for the little ones for an hour and a half. And I had an aide who was also paid by the school. An aide would come in and take care of the children in the playground in this nice weather like this, and I would have class session with the parents in the classroom. That's where we discuss child

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development, how do you handle bad habits, and how do you handle discipline—this kind of thing. So I did that for a number of years. I enjoyed that very much. Then, I taught in the evenings when my husband and I parted and my children were grown. I taught in the evening school, English as a second language. That was an evening class.

Gatewood

Then you retired?

Hurt

Then I retired. I said to myself, "When I'm 70, I'm going to retire." So I became seventy in January and I finished that which ends at the end of January. I retired, and that's when I decided that I would come and live here with my sister, because that's when we sold the home.

Gatewood

In Westwood?

Hurt

In Westwood, and it was silly of me to—Because I had to divide the proceeds equally. California has community property law. When you divorce, community property—which the house was, a community property—had to be divided in half. So the proceeds had to be divided in half, right? So whatever profit, we made from selling, which was quite profitable, by the way, [was] because we bought it in '60 and sold it in '84. So the price had gone up quite a bit. I spent the whole year previous to that really fixing up the house, because the house had been built in '29. It was a good house, well built and in Westwood, which is high-priced all over.

So I consulted this nice gentleman who was a contractor and was fixing the house next door. He was putting on a second story—that next door was a one-story house. They had three children and they wanted to add a second story. It was a big project. So I would see him, and we got to be friendly. So finally, I said to him one day, "You know, I'm about to get this house ready to sell. Could tell me, if you don't mind, what I could do really to get it to sellable?"

He came and spent a lot of time looking from the basement, which we had, through the first story, second story, looked through everything. And he said, "This is a very well-built home. If you do this and so—." And he told me all the things to do. He said, "You can get top dollars for it," which I did. I borrowed money, because I didn't have extra money. I borrowed money on the house and had the inside and the outside painted. All of these cabinet knobs and things replaced which he recommended. He said, "Putting some nice knobs," and so on. And he told me other things but I can't recall right away.

But anyhow, I fixed it up. And you know, this couple, when it was ready to sell—I knew a realtor in the neighborhood and I told him about it. He brought

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this young couple with a little baby, their first boy in their arm. They said, well, they liked everything about this house, except the wife said she's a gourmet cook, and she thought the kitchen was a little too small for her requirements. So they left. I said, "Well, this is the first party that looked at it. You don't sell a house until you show it to a lot of people." I wasn't worried. And the realtor called me three days later, and said, "You know the couple I brought to show them the house? They want to come back and look at it again. Could they come next Friday?" I said, "Sure." A week later, they come and they bought it on the spot. (laughs) They bought it on the spot!

Apparently, they had been looking, and looking and looking, and they had to look it over. Look at this house and compare it to some of the other houses they saw. Then they made up their mind—I'm sure—called the realtor and said, "I want to look at the house once more." They didn't even look at it. They just came in and said, "We'll take the house."

Gatewood

So you sold the house, and then you decided to move to Gardena with your sister?

Hurt

Because I didn't feel that after I divided the proceeds with my ex-husband that there would be very much point in my spending all that money on a house just for myself. My children were gone. They've grown up. So I thought since—Oh, the other thing was my mother had died about two years after Chuck and I were separated. By the way, my mother thought Chuck was such a great guy—my husband. When I told her what happened, she was the one that cried. I didn't cry. She's the one that wept. (chuckles) She felt so devastated that this nice young man that married her daughter should leave her.

Anyhow, so when she heard this, she changed her will. She was going to leave the whole property to my one sister who is single. She thought that was—My brother was married and had his own place. My other sister was married and had her own place. And I was supposedly married (chuckles) and had my own place. So my single sister didn't have any place, so she was going to leave it to her, the whole property. When she heard that Chuck had left me and so on, she changed her will to include me. This is why I moved in, because it belongs to me as well.

Gatewood

So you've come back to Gardena—your old stomping grounds?

Hurt

It started to change after all those years.

Gatewood

How do you see the community as changed? It's still a very Japanese American community at some level.

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Hurt

Yes, it is.

Gatewood

How do you think the community has changed, or what do you see as some of the main changes in the community today?

Hurt

The development along Redondo Beach Boulevard is all relatively new. There was nothing there—as I said before. On Western Avenue where the Japanese had little shops are entirely gone except for the Chinese restaurant that was there. Redondo Beach Boulevard development is entirely new. So that was something that I found different.

Gatewood

Just to kind of wrap up here. We've had quite a long interview, (chuckles) and you've answered lots of questions. What do you see as some of the milestones in your life? In retrospect, thinking back on your life, what do you see as some of the major milestones?

Hurt

Well, I think, milestones, seems like it's all positive stuff, I suppose. I think, going to Chicago was one great move on my part. Meeting new people and making new friends. Of course, entering the military was another big milestone.

Starting my long-delayed college was a big milestone. I felt those were, I guess, three big—and getting married. Our marriage was very good for 26 years, I must say. I thought it was. We had a very good marriage for 26 years. That's not too bad. I would have continued on with the marriage. I must say that Chuck was not the most ideal husband, but could have been lots worst. But he just fell for this 18-year-old, for some reason.

Gatewood

And just way of closing out here, I'm just curious in just putting your life in perspective. Not only in a Japanese American historical perspective, but in a larger—A lot of things have happened in the last 15 years in our country's history. I'm just curious. I want to get your feedback on just a couple of events, and see what you think and then—

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Gatewood

So the 1950s, the Civil Rights Movement really began to flourish. Did that have any impact on you as a woman of color, or were you following the events that were going on?

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Hurt

I did follow the events, not really personally. The only part that had impact on me as a Japanese American was the Civil Rights Act of '88.

That's when the government apologized to us for the internment and all that, and gave each of us $20,000. Do you know that?

Gatewood

Right, for redress. Were you involved in the movement?

Hurt

Not really. I was not really involved. I participated to the extent of providing funds, but not physically, personally involved. They were always looking for funds to continue their work, so I gave a contribution as much as I could, of course. Not very much, but as much as I could. To that extent I was involved, but I did not, in other words, participate.

Gatewood

What was it like when you finally received your redress check?

Hurt

Oh, I was surprised in a way. I didn't think it would really come to that, so it was a very pleasant surprise. I felt a little bit as if I really didn't deserve it, because I didn't work in the Redress Movement. I just gave a little bit of money, now and then, whatever I could when they were having fund-raisers, and things like that. But anyway, I accepted it gladly, (chuckles) despite how I felt. (laughs)

Gatewood

We had talked a little bit in our pre-interview about the events that led up to the Red Scare, and McCarthyism during the '50s. You had indicated that at some level that it had impacted you, or at least had some affect on your life during that time. Do you recall?

Hurt

Not too much. I went to a rally for somebody—Henry Wallace.

(laughs) That was the extent. I went to see him, hear him speak, and so on. There was a movement among the Japanese Americans at that time. What did they call themselves? I've forgotten now. It was a small group that was supporting Wallace, and so on, but I never joined or anything like that. There's still people who recall those days.

It was very hard because the parents did not approve according to what I heard. Some of the parents didn't approve of them doing all of this. I think from the Issei standpoint, you didn't want to mess around to get noticed. I think their idea was to be quiet so you don't get noticed, and get hurt again. I

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think that was their attitude. That's my assessment. I may be all wrong, but anyhow—So these Nisei firebrands who wanted to change the world for better and so on, didn't get very far, because there was a lot of criticism from among their own kind about this that they did. I admired them for their doing that. I wasn't one of them. (chuckles) I was one of the quiet ones.

Gatewood

In terms of our last question, what do you see as some of the main challenges facing the Japanese American community today?

Hurt

I think politically, they should become more active. That would help them to be a part of the whole society, rather than just sitting back and complaining if things don't go right. I think we should become more politically active. That's what I think. I go up and down our street during just before election, or something, and talk to some of the people. And I'm kind of discouraged when I find so many of the Japanese Americans so apathetic.

Like, "Oh, my vote is only one. It doesn't count." Or they're not interested in the candidates, or in whatever laws, or whatever propositions being discussed. They act like, "It doesn't bother me"—it-doesn't-concern-me kind of attitude, which I find rather prevalent among the Japanese Americans. And I find that rather distressing because I think we should all participate to the extent we can. Otherwise, how can we complain? This is supposedly a democracy. If you don't participate, then you have no comeback. You just say, "This doesn't concern me. That doesn't concern me, personally, so I'm not going to bother." That's not the right attitude from my point of view.

Gatewood

Is there anything you'd like to include or anything that I've missed that you would like to—?

Hurt

I think I talk too much. (chuckles)

Gatewood

No not at all. Well, thank you very much. That's the end of our interview.

Hurt

You're welcome.

End of interview

Kazuo K. Inouye

• Interviewee:
•     Kazuo K. Inouye
• Interviewer:
•     Leslie Ito
• Date:
•     December 13, 1997

Biography

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Kazuo K. Inouye

	"We went to Montana to top
	sugar beets. They used to
	harvest sugar beets because
	they said that nobody wanted
	to do that. Everybody wants
	to work at the war plants.
	I asked these guys that are in
	their forties, 'What is a sugar
	beet?' He says, 'Well, if you
	work hard, you might make
	ten dollars a day'.... It was
	quite an experience..."

Kazuo K. Inouye was born in 1922 in Los Angeles, California. His father, Zenkichi Inouye and his mother, Toyo, both emigrated from Ehime prefecture on the island of Shikoku, Japan. Zenkichi Inouye came from a farming family. Once he settled in Southern California, he initially farmed, but later went into sales, supplying seed and fertilizers to area farmers.

Kazuo Inouye grew up in the ethnically diverse neighborhood of Boyle Heights, just east of the Little Tokyo area of Los Angeles. His early prewar experiences include participating in sports at Roosevelt High School and learning sumo and judo. After high school, he worked in the wholesale produce market.

The Japanese attack of Pearl Harbor shocked and surprised many Japanese Americans. For Kazuo Inouye, who learned of the attack in the park with his girlfriend, Sunday, December 7, the news was no less surprising. At the time, he had just finished school and was working at a fruitstand in Los Angeles. Eventually, he joined other Japanese Americans who were forced to evacuate. The Inouyes sold their possessions, including the family car, a Ford Model T, as well as furniture. They stored their bedding at the Higashi Hongwanji Buddhist Temple, while other items were left in the care of a neighbor.

Kazuo Inouye went to Little Tokyo and volunteered to go to Manzanar concentration camp with others who were similarly prepared to leave.

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At Manzanar, he stayed for eighteen months, volunteering to leave camp to top sugar beets in Montana. In addition to enduring harsh weather conditions, he and other workers encountered racist attitudes. As soon as Inouye arrived in Montana, he was refused service at a nearby restaurant and later, at a grocery store. He stayed in Montana for three months, and then returned to Manzanar after the conclusion of his work assignment.

Encouraged by two friends: one living in Chicago, the other in Detroit, Kazuo Inouye left Manzanar to work at a paper company in Chicago. In search of a better-paying job, Inouye joined a friend in Detroit and applied for a job at the Ford Motor Company. They were soon apprehended by the police and taken inside the plant for questioning by company personnel. Questioned why they were both not in camps, the two men explained that they were given leave clearance. Yet after hearing this, company personnel refused to give them jobs, for Inouye never heard back from Ford.

Unable to get a job at Ford, Inouye and his friend worked the night shift at a small machine shop. Eventually, Inouye was drafted and sent to Camp Shelby, Mississippi for military training. Recruited to serve in the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team, Inouye and others were to serve as replacements. By the time, they left the United States and arrived in Europe, World War II had already ended.

After leaving the army, Kazuo Inouye married in 1946. In 1947, he returned to Los Angeles and eventually took over his brother-in-law's real estate business. His business, Kashu Realty, sold a record number of homes in the Crenshaw area in the 1960s—as many as fifty to sixty houses a month. Many of these were sold from Jewish owners to Japanese Americans. This resulted in demographic shifts of the area, with larger concentrations of Japanese Americans and African Americans. Kazuo Inouye also sold a large number of homes in the Culver City area to Japanese Americans. At the time, he had offices in Los Feliz, Wilshire Boulevard, and Monterey Park. While these offices have now closed due to declines in the real estate business, his Crenshaw office remained in operation and is in its fiftieth year.

Kazuo Inouye has one older sister. He and his wife, who is now deceased, had three children. One son is deceased, while the other lives in San Francisco. His daughter lives in Pasadena.

Interview

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Kazuo K. Inouye describes his prewar years in Boyle Heights, his experiences during the war, and his postwar work in Los Angeles as a realtor. In his account of his experiences during World War II, he discusses his incarceration in Manzanar concentration camp, his job topping sugar beets in Montana, his resettlement to Chicago and Detroit, and his military training. His postwar experiences focuses on his return to Los Angeles and the establishment of a real estate business, and the changing demographics of the Crenshaw area. Leslie Ito conducted this interview in Los Angeles on December 13, 1997.

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Ito

Could you please state your name, your birthdate, and your birthplace?

Inouye

My name is Kazuo Inouye. They call me Kazuo K. Inouye, because there were three of us [with the same name] in a platoon of thirty guys in the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team

that were named "Kazuo Inouye." One guy became a PFC [private first class]. The other guy said to me, "I don't want to do your K.P. [Kitchen Police, kitchen duties]," so I became K.K. They called me K.K. But I was born on Hewitt Street [Los Angeles, California], First and Hewitt near the Maryknoll School there, in 1922. My father came here about 100 years ago. Today, I'm 75, so I've been around a long time.

Ito

What were your parents' names?

Inouye

My father's name was Zenkichi Inouye, and my mother's name was Toyo.

Ito

Where were they born?

Inouye

They were born on the island of Shikoku [Japan]. My mother was from Matsuyama [Japan]. My father was from the farm. Very few Japanese came from Shikoku because it was like California. They had oranges or tangerines, and good weather, so lots from Hiroshima, Kagoshima, and Wakayama came. Very, very few came from Shikou, Ehime-ken. I used to have a complex about it, because they'll have a big Okinawa picnic and a Hiroshima picnic, and then we'll [only] be about five families under a tree. (laughs) I used to say, "What happened to our family? We have no relatives."

Ito

What were the occupations that your parents had?

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Inouye

My father was a salesman for seed and fertilizer supplying to Southern California farmers. He used to be a farmer when he first came here. He went to San Gabriel Valley over 100 years ago. He said he put the chain around the cactus, pulled them out with a mule, and planted potatoes. Then, World War I started, and he made money. He went back to Japan to marry my mother. She was expecting a child. That was my older sister. He wanted to bring her back here, so she [Kaz's sister Tomi] would be an American citizen, because they had so much trouble trying to lease land or rent a store.

They couldn't rent anything due to discrimination against Orientals in the West Coast.

Ito

How many siblings do you have?

Inouye

Just my one sister.

Ito

So just the two of you?

Inouye

Um-hm. She's still living and is about 80 years old.

Ito

Can you describe your relationship with your parents?

Inouye

My father and mother were older when I was born. My father was about 48, and my mother was about 40. So, I was a really late child. I could not give my father anything, because of the fact that we didn't have anything, and I was still going to school. But he used to do sumo when he was young, and I used to do judo and sumo. So I gave him a lot of pleasure, because I used to do judo, and I had what they call in Japanese, tettori.

I had a lot of techniques in judo that I used in sumo. When the Japanese oil tanker came here, we'd have a match. I was fortunate that I could beat these Japanese sailors, sometimes 10 and 15 at a time. They keep coming, and I could keep throwing them, because the Japanese sailors are taught just to push, whereas, we practiced many techniques. Actually, we were much better in sumo than they were. They were 18 and 20 years old and we were only 14, but we were taller because of the food, I guess. It was kind of an interesting experience about wrestling with these Japanese sailors.

Sometimes we'd be sitting there with our yukatas,

and kind of freezing—not freezing, but we'd be shivering. We show that we were cold. Whereas, the sumo officers come with these handle bar mustache, and they have telephone poles of wood that's polished highly, and you hit it with your hands. This guy would come with his head, and he'd push us aside. He'd bang his head on the post, and blood would be coming down his forehead to show us how gutsy he was. He was a macho Japanese. I would tell my

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buddies, "Let me take this guy." (chuckles) Here I am, fourteen years old, and this guy must be thirty-five or thirty, anyway. He was a captain, or he was a commander—not a commander, but he was a fleet sumo instructor. I'd take him and I'd drop him, because he's not trained. He's out of practice. In fact, we were really much better, because we practiced twice a week.

And the Tokyo Club

run by the yakuzas —they call them the nice yakuzas. In order to keep the Japanese farmers from not going to Chinatown and gambling, they had them open up a gambling place at the Yamato Hall [in Los Angeles' Little Tokyo].

When I was a little kid, my mother used to take me across the street. They had a candy store, and the obasan

would say, "Kazuo-san, no touch, no touch. There's a button there." I would always ask my mother, "Why would she say that for?" She [my mother] said when they see anybody but a Japanese going up the stairs, they ring the bell, and they push everything into the wall. So I always used to wonder what the heck they did in there. But they fed all the customers, like in Las Vegas—free lunch everyday, one time. My neighbor, Mr. Fujimori, used to be a cook there.

Ito

This is in—?

Inouye

It's on Jackson Street near San Pedro Street and Jackson.

Let's see. Where would that be? Not the police station, but across the street from the police station. One block between Temple and First Street, used to be Jackson Street.

Japanese Town [Little Tokyo] was huge in those days, because [on] Saturday the sidewalks was filled. All the farmers came in to shop.

Ito

So where you grew up was a predominantly Japanese American?

Inouye

Yes, more or less. But the thing is my neighbors were Mexicans and Jewish. As a matter of fact, Eugene Ziff became a principal. He was about a year and a half older than

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me. He's always been bossing me around. I'd meet him lately, and I said, "You're only one year older than me—by God!"

Eugene used to tell me, "Kaz, I want to see you at the gym at high school." I was in 10^th grade, and he was in the 12^th grade. I went over there, and my God, everybody on the gym team [has] got muscles. [And] here I am with my ribs sticking out and skinny. (chuckles) I said, "I'm in the wrong place, Eugene. I'm leaving." He said, "You're not leaving. Get on this thing." It was a side horse. I didn't even know what it was, but he made me get on that side horse.

I was very fortunate to take first place later when I was first in the city. Everybody used to come up to me and say, "God, you're first in the city." I said, "Yeah. I'm going to show them my medal and ask them for a job." (chuckles) I said, "All I want is a job."

But hakujins

would not give us the jobs, so I thought it would be of no use. I used to wonder why they used to have football, basketball, and gymnastics in high school, because it has nothing to do with education. But I find that [it] gives you a will to win, and you don't give up. You learn how to take a defeat. When somebody beats you, he beats you. It's nobody's fault but your own. So, that has a lot to do with your character.

My father always used to tell me that, "You're just as good as any hakujin", which is American. "In fact, you're better than them, because you're Japanese." He used to say that. I don't think too much of it, but then it does stick into you. I try to teach that to my children. That gives you a little bit more confidence.

So I was never afraid of going into an American place to ask for a job. Not that they would give it to me, but I was not afraid to ask.

Ito

What high school did you attend?

Inouye

I went to Roosevelt High School. It was very mixed—92 different nationalities, 92. I remember Persians. There were a lot of Persians which are Iranians—I understand now—Armenians, Russians, Jews, just about anything you can think of, but the majority was Jewish. They used to call it "Jewsoovelt."

The majority was Jewish, then Latinos, and then, I think, came the Japanese, and then the Russians, and the Armenians. That's about how it was. But it was very, very mixed. Everybody got along. There was absolutely no discrimination of any kind.

Ito

Can you tell me about the time when you first heard about the bombing of Pearl Harbor?

---

Inouye

Oh, yes. I happened to be at the Griffith Park

with my girlfriend. Then, somebody had a radio, and somebody said that they bombed Pearl Harbor. I didn't know where Pearl Harbor was. But I was working in a fruit stand on my Saturdays and Sundays at Westwood Village. It was a fruit stand. It's opened in the front. [It's] on a sidewalk in what they call a newsstand. You know newspaper dispenser? One week I go there, and it says, "Cordell Hull, the Secretary of War [Secretary of State], says that Japan wants to start something that we could defeat them in two weeks." And I said, "Yeah. Well, they probably could."

And next week I go there, and the headline says, "Japan Blockaded." I was only 18 years old, but I said, "There's going to be a war. You can't be blockading a country, especially an island country, because they would come out fighting." Not knowing anything about politics or war (chuckles) at 18, I just knew there was going to be a war. Sure enough, about a week or two later, this is what happened on December 7^th, 1941.

Ito

Where were you during that time? Where were you living?

Inouye

In Boyle Heights,

near First and Soto. It was on First and Mathews, which is near First and Soto, like five minutes from Japanese Town [Little Tokyo]. I used to walk there [to Little Tokyo], to save seven cents carfare.

Ito

At this point, you were still living with your family or were you already living somewhere else, on you own?

Inouye

Oh yes. In fact, I just got out of school, and I got a job at the wholesale produce. They'd give me a check for $24, I had to return $4.00. I got cash for $20 a week. I finally bought my mother a washing machine, because I used to see her trying to wash sheets inside the bathtub and take big buckets. We used to put it on top of the stove and poke it with a broomstick. That was my job. [We] just finally bought her an ABC washing machine for $45. But then in [the next] three weeks the war started. We were just getting on our feet. We were getting ready to order a refrigerator. Before that, we just had an icebox. So I think we were just getting over the Depression.

Ito

What were your responsibilities at the wholesale market?

Inouye

At the wholesale market, I was just a swamper. You get a hand truck. I was in the tomato department. I would take a stack of tomatoes and deliver them, or peaches. There was a Seventh Street Market on Central Avenue.

Ito

This was for Japanese Americans—?

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Inouye

Yes, Japanese Americans. They used to call it T&Y Produce. That's where I got quite an experience of how tough the Japanese salesmen have to be, because you had these peddlers that would come toward the end of the market day. In fact—Gee, I forgot his name. He was a Japanese man who used to have a couple of big trucks, and he was a buyer for Sunrise Produce.

When he comes by, everybody bows, because he buys such volume. They kowtow to him. After the war, he came into my office, and he had gardening clothes on. He wanted to buy a house. Mr. Senzaki, I think. [I asked,] "Senzaki, what are you doing? Are you a gardener now?" He said, "Well, you know. That's what I have to do now." In other words, he can't be a big buyer for a produce company. A lot of Issei and Nisei became gardeners [after the war], because they had to start from the bottom.

Ito

After President Roosevelt signed the Executive Order 9066

—

Inouye

Oh, evacuation,

um-hm.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about [that]?

Inouye

Yeah. It was very traumatic, because we had to sell everything. I sold my father's Model B Ford for $50 to the mailman. We sold all our furniture. I had to sell my washing machine for $20, which was less than half the price. We stored our bedding at the Higashi Hongwanji [Buddhist temple in Los Angeles]. But when we came back, somebody broke into the Higashi Hongwanji and had taken everything. But we stored some of the vases and things with our next door Mexican neighbor. He was very nice. It was very traumatic. I think that we packed up everything, and we had our two suitcases because they said you could carry two suitcases. Then I had a small one under my arm, and we were waiting there. My mother was worried, and everybody was worried.

So, I went down to Little Tokyo, and I volunteered to go to Manzanar

because we were all ready, and it was very traumatic that you would have to leave home. So, I

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volunteered with the downtown group, so I went there in their particular Block 20. We had the photographer Toyo Miyatake. Archie, the son, is a friend of mine.

Then, we had these ladies from the Kawafuku [Japanese hostess restaurant]. They had affairs of their own and a room of their own. They played the shamisen.

They were very nice to me. They used to make noodles. Block 20 was one of the earlier internees. They had 36 blocks at Manzanar. I stayed there for about a year and a half, and I volunteered to go to top sugar beets. I had quite an experience there. I've never seen snow.

Ito

Where was this?

Inouye

We went to Montana to top sugar beets. They used to harvest sugar beets because they said that nobody wanted to do that. Everybody wants to work at the war plants. I asked these guys that are in their forties, "What is a sugar beet?" (chuckles) He says, "Well, if you work hard, you might make ten dollars a day." [I said,] "Oh, my God. It sounds like a lot of money." And I said, "Are you going?" He says, "No, I'm not going." So in other words, he knew how hard you had to work. The five of us, in groups of five, went there. We went to Montana. It was quite an experience, because we went to this farmer's house, and—

First of all, after a couple days on the train—we had dried cheese sandwiches—we went to a small town of Conrad [Montana]. We went to a little restaurant there around 1:00 P.M. We said, "We like to have five hamburgers." (chuckles) The guy [at the restaurant] won't turn around. He said, "I don't cook this time of the day." I said, "What do you mean? It's only 1:00 P.M." So we finally said, "Come on boys, let's go."

So we went to Safeway, and we bought groceries because they were going to take us to the farmhouse. We took it to the counter over there, and they said, "I'm sorry. We can't sell you no groceries." We said, "What do you mean? This is Safeway. What are you talking about, you can't sell us any groceries?" (chuckles) He says, "Nope. We can't sell you no groceries." So the farmer, Mr. Christian, a real nice guy—he was a Christian Dutch man—he said, "Come on, boys, let's go. I'll get it for you later." So we went to his house.

He had moved out and moved in with his parents. There was this empty house with a couple of beds and a wood stove. We said, "Where is the bathroom?" He said, "Over

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there in the outhouse." (chuckles) We said, "How do you take a bath?" He brings a wash tub, and he says, "This is it. (chuckles) You have to use a wash tub." I said, "My God!" We said, "Where is the water?"

He goes outside to what they call a cistern, a large well—but it's not a well, it's made out of concrete, and they dump the water in there from a truck. They put a bucket in there, and they pull it up, and it's full of spiders. The spiders are floating around, the long-legged spiders. The bugs are—What do you call it? Japanese call kabi.

It's got the green stuff around it. He kind of blows it off and drinks it. I said, "My God! We can't drink this. We've got to sterilize it."

So we went into town and asked them if they got a sand filter. "We got no filter. What for?" And the hardware man says, "There is nothing wrong with that water." And sure enough, we got used to it. We were boiling it in the beginning, and finally we gave up. We just flipped off the bugs and let the spiders go down there. That was the kind of experience there topping sugar beets.

Ito

What year was that?

Inouye

That was probably around the end of '42 because it got very cold. We were there for two and a half months or three months. No matter how much we worked, we came back with $20. That's after trying to eat. One of the boys had a Japanese dictionary, and it says komugi. It means wheat. I heard of mugi meshi,

so we said, "My God! We have a barn full of wheat there."

To save money, we would get that wheat to try to cook that thing. No matter how much you cook it, the husk is on there. (chuckles) So we said, "I got to peel this thing off." (chuckles) Anyway, it was a disaster. We couldn't eat that thing.

But anyway, it got awful cold, and five of us decided to sleep in one bed and put the mattress on top because it was so cold. It was the first time I saw snow. It was quite an experience. I think all that hard work was backbreaking work, but that was an experience.

Ito

You spent two, three months there—?

Inouye

Yeah.

Ito

And then you went back to Manzanar?

---

Inouye

Manzanar. Yes. Then, I was writing to a friend of mine in another camp, and he had gone to Chicago. One was in Chicago, and one was in Detroit. He says, "Come on out here. There's jobs."

So, I went to the office to sign my—In other words, I was a "Yes, No" man. Yes, I would swear allegiance—off allegiance to the Emperor, but I won't go where the president directs me to go.

So I had to put down, "Yes, I will." But as soon as you do that, you become a 1-A. You're open for a draft. So I figured I better go out, [leave camp,] and make some money because at $15 a month, you can't save anything.

I was at a peace committee. They had a riot in Manzanar.

All the police quit, so they asked the judo sensei to form a peace committee. Anyway, he had 15 black belts [on the committee]. They gave us a couple of cars and gave us a little wash room—not a laundry room, but it was just a spare room that they had in the camp at each block. We would use the car to go to [deal with] any problems, if they had any problems.

They had these Blood Brothers, [as] they called them. They're kibei,

and they would say that we should not have a Christmas dance because they thought that it was—I remember this Issei man. We used to have block meetings.

This Issei man, he was a nice guy, very educated. He says, "We should be having no dances. And we should be studying and not doing anything." I was still young yet. I was about 19 then. I got up, and I told him, "Why should we have to do that? The young people would like to have dances and get together."

I remember Sue Embrey that's very active.

She was in my same block. She was there kind of tiptoeing and looking at me more or less to say, "Tell him. Tell him." (chuckles)

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So, now I realize why she is so active. Because she was right in the middle of it, but she's a woman. So, she's a girl, and she hesitated to get up and say anything in those days.

That was 50 years ago. Now she's very active, and I always think about her that time, because I could see her urging me on to say what I was saying. So, I was kind of used to speaking up because I was the president of the Japanese club at Roosevelt High School at the last year.

I was kind of used to trying to get everybody organized, and doing things, and learning how to dance, and stuff like that, and at meetings, clean up the Japanese garden. They had a nice Japanese garden with a bridge over it. I think they buried it during the war. So we went over there, and I helped the committee put a new one together. It was quite expensive, about $40,000, $50,000. But it was nice, because I met some of my old friends like Bruce Kaji

—I think was heading it—and Jun Yamamoto. These fellows were at the school at that time.

Ito

So, getting back, did you actually make it to Chicago?

Inouye

Oh yes. I was there, and by then I was making seventy-five cents a hour. I was there for about a couple of months, and I heard that in Detroit you get ninety-five cents per hour.

Ito

What were you doing in Chicago?

Inouye

In Chicago they start hiring Japanese Americans because they thought that they were good workers and they're available . . . all young guys. I was working at a paper company, C.H.—something or other—paper company. Instead of making tinfoil because it's lead, they got two papers and put wax in-between to keep the cigarettes from drying out. I worked there. Mostly 80 percent were Japanese Nisei. Then my friend in Detroit says, "Come on over here. They pay ninety-five cents a hour." "Oh, God. That sounds like a whole lot of money." So we went there.

It took us about a month to get a job, because they just wouldn't give us a job. He and I went to the Ford Motor Company, Highland Park, right next to Detroit there. We lined up to get this job, and we go through different things. We had to take our pictures. All of a sudden, I notice guards with gray suits on, with their hands on their guns.

Since I do judo, I'm very cognizant. I could see. I see movement. I see these guys on the corner of these buildings and behind the posts. About a half a dozen of them looking at us with their hand on their—They didn't pull their gun out yet, but they had their hand of their gun. And I told Sho [Ishino], my friend there, "I think they're trying to surround us here. What's going on?"

---

He has bad eyes, so he couldn't see. So we were talking about it. Pretty soon we hear the siren come and the black and white come. Great big six-foot-five policemen come. They come up to us and say, "All right, boys. The Colonel wants to see you upstairs." I said, "What for?" He said, "Just come with us." By that time, about 25, 30 guards all came over. We went to the elevator, and a bunch of them got in the elevator. I don't get nervous about things like that. So I said, "I'll take the next one." (chuckles) I said, "This one is full." And then, the cop says, "Get in there." I said, "Okay."

[I] walked in the room, and here's 35 guards, and a great big desk, and an army colonel sitting there. He's asking us, "What are you?" I said, "I'm Japanese American." He said, "How did you get out of camp?" I said, "I just walked out. They let me out." He said, "Well, I'm looking at your application here, and you're too well qualified." I said, "No. I'll take that assembly line job, because they're paying $1.40 an hour wage. I want that job." I said, "They had a black lady over there who didn't know the difference between a screwdriver and a hammer. And I took auto shop in high school, so I could run a lathe." He said, "No, we'll call you if we have a job." I said, "Is it because my parents were born in Japan? Is that why? Of my ancestry?" "Oh, no. It's nothing like that." I said, "What are you trying to tell me? You know I'm not stupid. You don't want to give me a job, because I'm of Japanese ancestry, right?" "Well, no. We'll call you." They never did call us.

Finally, we got a job at a small sweatshop machine shop with Mr. McKeckne. He hired some Japanese guys, and he was satisfied. So we got a job there after a month and a half looking for a job. We worked there on the night shift. This other fellow named Sho Ishino and I, we ran the night shift. There were only four of us in the night shift. We asked them, "Can we work two shifts so we could put in overtime?" He said, "You see the flag there? We're at war." I says, "Well, I'm just asking you. Can I work?"

So, I worked 16-hour days for 30 days out of the month. I took one day off, and I got overtime. I was making money. I would send it back home, because I think I had only $500 in school savings. That's all we had. So when they got out of camp, my parents would have a place to go to. So I would send money. I sent all the money back to them. Then, I got drafted, and we went down to Shelby, Mississippi, 442^nd in the 171^st Infantry.

Ito

So you weren't drafted out of Manzanar?

Inouye

No. I was drafted out of Detroit, Michigan. There were 1,000 of us that came from Blanding, and Denver, and camp, and everywhere else. They all ended up at Shelby, Mississippi. The 442 ^nd had gone overseas, and we were the replacements. Anytime, like the 100^th Battalion

machine gun section would get casualties, they'd send fifty of us.

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For some reason, I wondered why they always seemed to just miss me. That was because when I got there, to Shelby, and they taught us how to march, march, and salute in about a week or so, then we lined up. Some of the headquarters of D Company—either D Company or I think it was A Company. I was in A Company first. Anyway, we lined up. I was wondering why they are all lined up here for? We all lined up, and each one goes in at a time and [then] comes out. We don't get to ask them, "What did they ask you?" So I was curious [as to] what they were going to ask.

When I walked in, they said, "Private Inouye, you got any objections going overseas and fighting for the United States?" I needed a little time to think, so I said, "Captain, can you repeat that?" The captain says, "You heard me." They give you that authoritative talk. (chuckles) I says, "I think you said have I got any objections to going overseas to fight for the United States." "Well?" I said, "Well, do I have to tell the truth?" He said, "You better." "Well, Captain," I said, "since you're asking me to tell you the truth. I'm going to tell you." I said, "I don't want to fight for this country until you send my mother and my father back to Boyle Heights to that little house for $20 a month." I said, "I'd shoot the Emperor. I'd shoot my cousin. I don't know who the hell he is. But so long as I got nothing to fight for—I got one square mile barbed wire camp and 20-by-20 room. If I did own a house in Boyle Heights and I died, the state of California would take it away from me. I'd give it to my parents, because my parents cannot own property. So you show me what the hell I'm fighting for."

And he said, "Oh. So you're going to refuse to fight?" I said, "No. That German never called me a Jap, never put me in a concentration camp." I don't know if he [the Germans] was putting Jews in there (chuckles), but I said, "—put me in a camp. So, I'm going to shoot him before he shoots me strictly on self-preservation, on defense only. I'm not mad at him. I'm mad at these guys that put me into the camp.

These red neck senators like Bilbo and Rankin." That's all I could think about at that time. [Earl] Warren

was one of them, too, but (chuckles) I didn't know that. But I said, "Those people are un-American. They're fascist, and I'm going to fight for democracy. I'd like to kill those guys."

That kind of shook him up a little bit. He said, "You sit right over here." 250, 300 guys came there, shaking in their boots, because they never saw an officer before. They all said, "Yes, sir. No, sir," and they walked out. Three of them turned around. The old guy, a captain, and two big guys, lieutenants sat on the desk and kept looking down on me psychologically trying to scare me. But like I told you, I don't scare easy, because I

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used to do judo. And the big guys are easier to throw than small guys, so I just answered them.

He says, "You know, in the Life Magazine in Hawai'i, they had the pineapple field pointing the arrows toward Pearl Harbor." So I told him, "Well, I read the Time Magazine , and J. Edgar Hoover, who was head of FBI, he said there has never been any sabotage by Japanese Americans or Japanese aliens in Hawai'i or anywhere. So I believe him. I don't believe the magazine."

So, anyway, he was giving me some different reasoning, and I was arguing with him on that. I just said, "I want to see the Inspector General. I want to see the President of the United States. I want to know what I'm doing in a segregated outfit like the 442 ^nd. My brother-in-law says that they're dying like flies. Every third guy is getting killed, and they are always putting them in the front line. So, he says, "Don't volunteer."

So, he volunteered." So, I said, "I just want to be in Navy Air Corps—Marines, and I tried to, in Sheridan Camp Induction Center, when I got drafted. I tried to volunteer for the navy, the Marine Corps, the air corps. They all turned me down. They said that your parents had to be born here or something like that." And I told a lie. I told him that my friend Sho here, his friends were born in Hawai'i. He said, "Let me run back there." And the Captain says to the Sergeant that all Japanese have to go to Jap Infantry.

In fact, I thought I was with the white guys, because when I lined up, they read your name off, and everybody goes to the west wall. If you were left, [you] go to the east wall. And the guys at the east wall, the guys that were [the] remainder, were all black, and they are all cussing under their breath. I said, "Oh, hell. I'm with the white guys." But when they handed me my paper, they had a red stamp on there, and [in] great big words "Jap Infantry". (laughs) So I said, "I don't think I like that word. And I don't want to go there. I want to be in the navy. I think I don't like that mud, because my brother-in-law tells me that they're in a fox hole with water up to your ankles."

So, anyway, I wasn't really giving them a hard time. I was just not taking it. Like I say, out of three hundred guys in my company, I was about the only guy. There was another guy, Hoshino that didn't get his PFC, but it kind of saved my life, because I went overseas with the last group. By the time we got there, the war ended, just about that day. So, that's my experience of being in the army.

Also, when these guys come into our area, to our service club, and they call us, "Slant-eyed Japs,"—I tell you—nobody could do anything. So I went up and saw a tech sergeant with a lot of stripes. He had his feet up there and was kind of dozing off. And I said, "Tech sergeant, they're calling us names. They're calling us Japs." He said, "I can't get into trouble because I'd lose my stripes, and I came late on my furlough." I asked another corps. He was a Hawaiian. These are what they call cadres.

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They stayed behind to teach us, train us. He said, "I'll go find some guys." He runs the other way. So here I'm stuck with this situation. So I lean over the railing, and I say, "I'll be down right now. I'll take you." So I take the biggest guy, and I says, "Come out outside." And I said, "God, I've been out of commission here working in Detroit for about a year without a day off hardly." So I see a tree about the size of three to four inches round. So I do what they do in sumo. They stomp your feet, and you stretch it. I get this tree, and I hit it this way and it would bend a little bit. I hit it this way. I finally hit it about four or five times, and that tree is going this way. (chuckles) It's not a big tree.

Then, I used to do that when we have a shiai.

You would put your arms out, and you do a kiai. Then you say like, "Come on, let's go." You say, " Sa koi." That's in Japanese to give yourself energy. These three guys are standing there, and they say, "I think this guy knows jujitsu." They decided to walk away, and I wasn't about ready to chase them. But when they started walking away, then they started running a little bit, then the whole group of 40 or 50 buddhaheads (chuckles) started chasing them.

So, I go out in the field the next day, we take a smoke, a ten minute break. I'm laying down with my helmet over my face covering my eyes. These guys come over and says, "Well, I had a Coke bottle, Kaz, I was going to help you." They call me KK. I said, "I don't know about you guys. You buddhaheads, I'm disgusted with you. I'm the only guy standing there challenging them, and nobody there said one word, 'I'm going to help you.'" (chuckles) But I was so mad; I was—

But then I was always up against big guys, because I was a black belt when I was 16. So I always end up being with these big jocks from USC [University of Southern California], or the police wrestling champion would come out there. So, I'm used to doing it with these big guys. The big guys are easy to throw, because they're slow. But anyway the thing is, not that I was that tough.

But when my only son was twelve years old, my wife—she was alive [then]—asked me to buy him a birthday present. I said, "What do you want? How about a nice wallet or something?" He said, "I want a racing car like the guy across the street." I said, "No way." I took him to judo, and I said, "This would help you. You don't have to fight." I never had to fight. I actually never had a fight, because you don't have to fight. If they know you do judo and you're a black belt, they just say hello to you. Everybody smiles, and I smile. I've got no problem.

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All my life, I had no problem. But I always appreciated the fact that I know. It gives you a lot of confidence. But anyway, that's why it helped me in my business when I get into real estate back in 1947. When I came back from the army, my brother-in-law was doing it, so I helped him.

Ito

Here in Crenshaw?

Inouye

Yeah. He had moved to Seventh Avenue and Jefferson [Boulevard]. He bought a home there. No Japanese was on this side of Arlington. There was another guy named Roy Takai who was part Japanese and part white. He bought a house and had an office, Takai Realty. So, he was the first one, and my brother-in-law was the second one. There was a guy named Ty Saito that opened up later on Jefferson.

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Inouye

—'46, '47. So, it was about maybe '47?

Ito

At this point, your parents had moved from Manzanar back to Southern California?

Inouye

Oh yeah. They were living here. When I got home from overseas, my brother-in-law had been wounded, and he had got back early. He had bought a house and was doing real estate. He went into insurance. I told him I'd helped him, but I didn't like it, because you kind of have to push it. Here, people want a house, and people want to sell it. So I took over his customers that he had, not very many of them. He became a general agent of life insurance.

Ito

When you refer to your brother-in-law, is that your sister's husband?

Inouye

Husband. Yeah, Mizukami. I'm not putting him down like that, (chuckles) but he had a dark green sign with black letters. It says, "R.M. Mizukami." You could hardly see it. Whereas, Mr. Takai had a white sign with red letters saying, "Takai Realty." I would say to my brother-in-law, "How come you don't do no open houses?" "Oh, that's like a used car lot. We don't do that." I said, "Hell. If I was to sell, I would have open houses." That's why if you notice the sign right back there, it has red letters, Chinese brush painting to let them know that you're Oriental. So, even at that time, they always thought that Orientals were responsible and had money.

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So my entree for going in there is that I have Oriental buyers that eat rice and not too much meat and have cash. So I joke. I found out that if you [could] make them laugh, they like you. So I learned how to speak. And I speak a little bit of Jewish—they call it Yiddish—from being raised in Boyle Heights. I would walk in there, and I'll tell him that I'm a landsman from Boyle Heights. Landsman means countryman— Landsman. The guy looks at me, and I say, "Yeah. I had a bar mitzvah when I was 12." He said, "You're supposed to be 13." I said, "Yeah, I'm a little different." And I went to shul, a Jewish school, which is true.

When I was thirteen my Jewish friends had to take their bar mitzvah and had to study. So I used to go there and ditch Japanese school and go with him. The rabbi would show me how to write my name in Hebrew when I'm waiting for him. Otherwise, he [friend] can't go out and play. So it was very interesting about the mixed people that I've known.

Ito

Okay. We're going to take a break, and then we'll get started talking more about the Crenshaw area and your business.

Inouye

In regards to our company, this is our 50^th year. We started in 1947. There were only about two, three companies. There were a lot of restrictions. First of all, we couldn't get a loan from the savings and loan, and the banks wouldn't lend us no money.

Mrs. Warden is the saleswoman that we used. I only knew her on the phone, but she used to get us first trust deeds from her old friends. [She was] an old white lady, I think. I think she was an alcoholic because sometimes (chuckles) she was incoherent. But she would loan us money on a first trust deed. Finally, after about four or five years, Western Federal was the first company to loan Japanese money, Western Federal.

Ito

Is that local here in the Crenshaw area?

Inouye

No, it was right downtown, Western Federal Savings and Loan. They had such good luck with the Japanese because they always paid on time. The president wrote me a letter, and I lost that thing. I kept it for a long time. The interest rate was always one percent less than anybody else [was], just because they were from our company. They didn't say Japanese. They say any client that we get, their interest rate would be 1 percent less. So that was a feather in our cap. Then, we had trouble getting fire insurance because they thought that the neighbors would burn our house down if the Japanese moved in right after the war. So Republic Insurance Company—My brother-in-law was in insurance and my sister—they got them to give fire insurance to the Japanese. So we had fire insurance, and then we finally got Savings and Loan to start giving us loans. It was a tough go.

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Even Sammy Lee, [who] at that time was the Olympic diving champion, came into our office and says, "You know, Kaz, I was down in Orange County trying to buy a house." He's a veteran. He's a lieutenant, I think, or something. They would not sell him a house. They would give him all kinds of excuses. So he said, "I'm tired of that. Sell me a house out this way." I still remember him. He was very upset, because he had a gold medal. [He was] the first Oriental to get a medal for the United States, but he couldn't buy a house. So, I was a veteran, and [was entitled to] the GI low down payment,

[There were] new houses in Orange County. We used to call it the round file. You filled out an application, and as soon as you leave they put it in the round file. (chuckles) They throw it in the wastepaper basket. So we were very busy.

Then, the Jewish element of this area—the West Adams area used to have Jewish bakeries, delicatessens, and stores, and 90 percent of the people were Jewish here. So we started to sell houses there. One black would move in, and they get so shook up that the whole block would sell. When I went back to my 25-year high school reunion (chuckles), my friends found out that I was Kashu Realty. He says, "Hey, Kaz, you're the blockbuster." I said, "No, no. I didn't do that. One black moves in, everybody else wants to sell. I just helped them." (chuckles) At one time around the '60s, we were selling 50 and 60 houses a month. That's every day two and three houses.

Ito

So you would sell the Jewish home, and then who were these new buyers?

Inouye

Mostly Japanese. Then, the blacks didn't have the money. The Japanese for some reason, by the time they start rolling, they start doing gardening, and the mother does the sewing factory, and they would save. They lived in the hostels, or they lived together, doubled up just like the Mexicans are doing. Then, we would sometimes loan them the money, like you loan them a part of a commission.

Like this one gentleman, he's a gardener. He had a pretty good down payment. So I told him to buy an apartment house, six units. He said, "Oh, no, no. I can't afford that." I says, "No, you have a pretty good down payment, and your daughter is about twenty-something, and your son is about 24. They are going to be helping. Your daughter is already going to the sewing factory. Your wife is going to the sewing factory. Your son is going to get out of college and become a radiologist. He's doing gardening. So they're going to start getting married, and you can put them into these other apartments."

So I loaned him $4,000. He said, "How much interest?" I said, "Well, if you pay me in a year, no interest." Because even at that time it was five percent. Five times four is what, $200? I says, "Heck, I don't want $200. I just want my money." (chuckles) So he paid me back. And to appreciate it, he came and cut my lawn for two years. I kept

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telling him, "You don't have to do that anymore." Then he'd bring me a box of navel oranges or something. He really appreciated it, because otherwise he would never have been able to buy those units.

Then, we used to sell the houses in Playa Del Rey,

they call it, but actually it was Venice, Culver and Centinela. Mr. Charlie Selecta who was a vice president of the Great Western Savings and Loan, he and Tommy Francis was another vice-president. I was only about 24, 25. I met them over there in Culver Boulevard and Centinela. He says, "Now K., we have 10 houses here we're stuck with, but you can't just sell three or four. You got to sell them all. Can you sell them all?" And I said, "Oh yeah. I'll sell them all."

In 1950, because I had a 1950 Oldsmobile 98, and it had a clock right on top of the dash. It wasn't in the dash, (chuckles) it was sticking right on top of it. I would drive over here, around Crenshaw and La Brea and talk to a Japanese gardener. I say, " Ojiisan,

do you want to see a brand new house?" He said, "Where? Where?" "Just give me 15 minutes."

I had the signals timed right on Jefferson and Rodeo Road. "See, Ojiisan, I'm only going 35 miles per hour, but you hit the signals every 35 miles an hour (chuckles) and before you know it, you'll be in Culver City." You don't really call it Culver City. Actually, it's Centinela and Culver. I said, "Then, I'd make it in 11 minutes and maybe 12 minutes."

Here's a brand new house in the bean fields. It had curbs and sidewalks. No, sewers and a street that had man hole covers, but they had sold these lots to people back east—like they do California City—saying that it's Venice. Actually it isn't. It is Venice, but there's no gondolas or anything like that. We're further down.

This contractor was buying those lots for $50. They would be foreclosed on him, and he would offer these people back east, "I'll give you $50, and I'll take it over." Pay the back taxes. So some of those houses, you figure it was 925 square feet, and we would sell it for $9,250. You'll get a brand new house.

Later on, I told Mr. Rickey, I said, "We have to build a house with two bedrooms, with a big kitchen, because the Japanese eat in the kitchen. And you have got to put the sink a little lower because Japanese legs are so short. And the shelves will have to be lower.

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And you have to have a wash tray, because they all do laundry. And they don't want to do laundry in the kitchen. They want to do it in the service porch. And then, we have 14-foot bedrooms, which were pretty long, but only about nine-foot wide. But, they could put the cots—they got these army cots from camp, I guess. (chuckles)

They would line up four or five of them, and all the kids would sleep there, and the parents would have their own little room. Then, we have a carport and a double garage. I says, "You got to build the garage doors a little higher because the Japanese gardeners have these brooms sticking up, and they could drive in with these brooms. And also, the leftover lumber to make the foundation, these 2-by-6s, you got cement on them." I said, "You don't have to take the cement off. Just put a bench over there. Cut a door. Put a bench on the side of the garage. Make the garage a little bigger. That's where he could get the lawnmower and fix the lawnmowers." And the Japanese gardeners would [say], "Oh, kore wa ii. Oh, my God!—just want, I wanted"—I tell him, " Ojiisan, you know you don't have to take your brooms down. You can go in with your rack." Then we sold all the 10 houses.

After that, then I started the building business. I started building myself and with a hakujin contractor, superintendent. We built a lot of homes. We called them Kashu homes over there. These houses are worth $250,000. They're $9,000 houses. (chuckles)

So once in a while—this is years ago—I'd see Mr. Nakasone cutting the lawn, and I'd stop and say hello to him. He says, "Mr. Inouye, you must be a millionaire. My house I bought for $9,750, and our son with three bedrooms is $10,250, worth together over half a million. If I sell, I got no place to go. So you must—." I said, "No, Ojiisan, I sold them. I made $500 commission. (chuckles) But I had to send my kids to school, so I didn't keep any of them."

So those people there—Then, they always kept saying there's going to be a marina there. Sometimes when it rains, the water used to back up. I go there, and they tell me, "Kaz—." Some of my army buddies bought the houses. They said, "Oh, the water came up to my porch. They come into my house because the canal was not cleaned out." But now they put sewers in there, and those people have a real community. They call it—I don't know what they call it over there, but Mago is a Japanese restaurant there, very famous. They are all very happy over there.

Ito

Could you discuss a little bit how the Crenshaw area developed into the Japanese American community, and what you think drew Japanese Americans to the Crenshaw area?

Inouye

Well, I think the Japanese were always around the Normandie and Jefferson area. Normandie and 36^th was Kusayanagi who owns the building there, and they had stores there. They had Centenary Church before the war. That was the Westside, they called it. So we came along, and we came on this side of Western, and this westside of Arlington.

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The houses from around 10^th Avenue became little Spanish stuccos, a little newer, smaller, but more modern. So we crossed over to Crenshaw. Then from Crenshaw, we jumped all the way over there to La Brea. We were what you call more or less blockbusters, or whatever they want to call us. We were just trying to sell houses.

Mrs. Lopez lived on Rimpau, which is one block east of La Brea. She called up one day, she says—They call me Mr. Kashu, [and explain] "I want to sell my house, but I do not want to sell to the whites." I said, "That's all right with me. I got all kinds of customers that are not white." So I went over there, and I said, "Mrs. Lopez, why do you say that?" She says, "I bought this before the war, many years ago," and the neighbors all took her to court saying that she wasn't white. But at that time, they passed that the Mexicans were white. So it cost her a lot of money. She just absolutely wouldn't sell.

So I sold it to Chikahisa family. These houses were two of them, together. They look alike. The Spanish stucco with the little breakfast nook in the front. In other words, sometimes the builders put two, three of them in a row. And Chikahisa's house is—Mrs Lopez's house was second from the alley. I put up my sign there saying we sold it. So, some broker—I found out later there's a broker on Adams Boulevard, a Texan, because he had a Texan's hat, hired four guys to break every window in that house. But they got nervous, and they took the easy way out. They took the house next door which, is next to the alley, so that they don't have to go between the houses.

So, 3:00 A.M. in the morning rocks flew in. They broke every window in the house of this Jewish couple. They were so shook up, they called me and asked me, "Mr. Kashu, would you come over to my house? I want to show you something." I went there, and I said, "Oh, my God! They broke every window in your house." I said, "Who did this?" He said, "I think it's that broker that's west over on Adams Boulevard, and he had a Terraplane." It was a brand new 1947 or '48 Terraplane. It's one of those that were channeled. After the war, it was the first, new car that came out, Studebaker.

So I start calling some of the brokers down there and asking, "Who has a Terraplane and wears a 10-gallon hat?" I said to this Jewish family, "How do you know it's him?" "Well, he was parked across the street, and he had a car door open. And he stood there, and he looked like he was sorry because they broke the windows on the wrong house." (chuckles) So, I found out who he was, and I called him. Like I say, I've become a pretty good bluffer. I called him, and I says, "Say here, Mr. Jones," or whatever his name was, I says, "You know, I was overseas, and I killed a bunch of Nazis and fought for democracy.

So I already called the cops, and they told me that if you try to break the window again, if you step one foot on the property—I got a German luger that I brought back. I'm going to shoot you between the eyes." He said, "Don't you threaten me." I said, "Look it. I'm going to sleep on the porch, and I'm going to wait for you. If you try it one more time and I'll put you away. Have you heard of a kamikaze? That's me. Are you afraid to die? I'm not afraid to die. Come on, try me out." He said, "Don't you threaten me."

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I heard the next day or so, he packed up and left the city. He actually got so scared, (chuckles) because he didn't know what I was going to do. But he heard about kamikaze, I guess. So I used these things to my advantage a lot of times, and it helps—I think.

Anyway, the thing is then we jumped all the way over there to the other side of Crenshaw, and we start selling it from both ends. Victoria is the first street and Somerset. I think on those two streets about 90 percent of the Japanese that bought were from our office. We just dominated that area, because we just kept putting the signs up. Then, we put a sold sign on there. Sometimes, I'd buy a hundred-pound sack of rice. It would only cost $10 or $12 in those days. We'd have the Enbun [Japanese grocery store] deliver it and then tell the Japanese family that the office policy is to leave the sold sign [up] for 30 days.

On the twenty-ninth day the client says, "Oh, can we take the sign down?" "Oh, we'll come after it." (chuckles) We'd leave it another week. But it seemed like we have signs all over the place, and this is what helped the business. Everybody sees our sign. Every time you turn around the block, they see a sign. So at that time the whole area moved over to Fairfax and Venice up there toward Pico. We sold a lot of houses there.

One of the younger Japanese girls that works here, part-time now, says, "How come we don't sell that many now?" I said, (chuckles) "Well, they're all bought, and there's nobody running no more." But the blacks and the Japanese always got along. They had no problems. On Jefferson Boulevard we could walk up and down at nighttime at 8:00 P.M., 9:00 P.M., 10:00 P.M. Nobody would bother us. It's not like that anymore. You have to be very careful.

But we sold these houses. They were selling for about $10,500. Can you imagine that, $10,500 for a nice two-bedroom house? Three bedrooms run $12,000, $13,000. Then, we started selling in Leimert Park.

There was the Yamaguchi family, a couple that bought one for $13,750.00, a three-bedroom house on Wellington Road near—He was one of the first ones to move in. Then, Dr. Teramoto bought one on Wellington Road.

I still remember. I think it was Fuji Cafe on Seventh Avenue and Jefferson. He said, "You know, Kaz, $17,500, that's a lot of money! Do you think I overpaid?" I said, "No. You're getting a nice house." It was a German family, and they had that thing spic and span. Big Spanish stucco. It was about 1,800 square feet or 1,500 square feet with a patio in the front and lots of tile.

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Wellington Road was one of the nicest streets. We just sold one next door to his house. But all his kids grew up over there. They have the senior citizens next door. You know that, didn't you?

Ito

Um-hm.

Inouye

But we're getting scarcer and scarcer.

Ito

Why is that the Crenshaw area was the booming place for Japanese Americans to move?

Inouye

Well, first of all, they were buying houses here. A lot of them were gardeners. This is very centrally located. One family lives there, then your friends and relatives move in. The houses were relatively—You see, closer to town, they're not older, like around Normandie, Vermont. Then, the further you come this way, the newer it gets. In fact, you go on the other side of Rodeo Road, and you have the houses built just before the war in 1938.

Then, you go on the other side of Crenshaw—you call it Crenshaw Manor—and those houses were built during the war. In fact, they didn't have bathtubs. They had tile tubs, because you couldn't get the steel or iron. They used to have tiles made in squares. But the school there was the Coliseum Street School and all the young Nisei wanted their kids to go there because it was the highest-rated school in the whole school system. Did you know that?

Ito

No, I didn't, and my mom went there.

Inouye

Coliseum Street School. Did you live around here, too?

Ito

My grandma and my mom grew up in this area.

Inouye

Okay. So, the Japanese would rather buy those small houses built during the war—which is not as good as maybe before the war—in Leimert Park, because the school was so good. But the blacks were going to this Fourth Avenue School. They went to Fourth Avenue School, or—anyway, it was another school. They were kind of competing. The blacks were pushing their kids, too—the ones that bought the more expensive homes. When you say expensive they start selling for around $27,000, $35,000, $45,000 and $150,000. It just kept going up. But some of the people there, the Japanese, bought the houses because they were nice. Crenshaw Manor and Leimert Park are one of the nicest areas in Los Angeles—the cleanest.

Ito

So when did the Japanese American businesses start coming into Crenshaw?

Inouye

They all started coming in. On Jefferson Boulevard, Enbun was here. And Kurata Dry Good Store. You name it—the little restaurants, all kinds of restaurants, barbershops, photography studios. Then, they had the Japanese school right here on Edgehill, or 12^th

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Avenue. They had the Japanese school there. Then, they had the Japanese Credit Union. When the Japanese would try to buy a house, I would tell them take a couple hundreds, $500, and deposit it and become a member so you could borrow $1,000 or $2,000. So everybody used to become a member. It was a gardener's credit union that became the Southwest Credit Union [L.A. Southwest Japanese Credit Union]. There's all Japanese that live around here.

Then, the Bank of Tokyo opened up. Then, Tamura's opened up. We were here. We moved into the old Bank of Tokyo building. Then, I was on the advisory board of the bank just in name only. We didn't do anything. We went to dinner a couple times a year. But I met Mr. Hohri who opened up the bank. This was the first one in Japanese town, and this was the second one. I met him in Tokyo later.

He insisted that he take me up to the Imperial Hotel, the French restaurant there. I said, "No, let's just go eat some yakitori."

"Oh, no, no. Inouye-san, I must repay you." I said, "For what?" He said, "You know, your company put this bank"—that he was managing—"into the black from into the red in within two, three months." They were in the black, because the fact of the escrows that I brought there. So, I said, "Chee. I didn't think it was that important." But, they helped us a lot, too, because they ran all our escrows. And then, Sumitomo Bank opened up. We had enough escrows to take over there, too. But they built the Crenshaw Center. Do you remember that?

Ito

Um-hm.

Inouye

So, that brought in the lawyers, the accountants, the CPAs, and Kay's Hardware. Anyway, this became the Seinan Japanese district.

You didn't have to go down to Japanese town. You could get anything you wanted over here— manju and Japanese grocery stores. Enbun was big then.

But then, they started to move out. Because getting big is—I guess it's that the houses were reasonable, and in East L.A. the houses were old. The people there don't sell, because there's nothing pushing them. If a black or a Mexican moved in, nobody gets even concerned. But over here, there was all white.

You bring in any minority, they all get shook up. So that's how we got started. Then, I had offices in Los Feliz. We opened up another one on Wilshire by the old Orbach's [Department Store]. But our office here, we always kept those other offices going.

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The one in Monterey Park was interesting, because that was a branch. We opened up toward Montebello at first—I think. Then, we went to Monterey Park. They wouldn't let us join the board. One of our salesmen quit and opened a small office. They let them in, but they wouldn't let us in because they were afraid that we were going to sell to blacks. So they said we had to wait two years. Nobody had to wait two years. They're always begging for members. Way in the back page, it says you had to wait two years. So we waited two years.

So they had a meeting with about eight or nine guys. They're all kind of looking at you with their arms folded and kind of glaring at you. They say, "Mr. Inouye, what type of people are you going to sell homes to here in Monterey Park?" I thought about it, and I said, "I would only sell to people who would be an asset to the city of Monterey Park." I didn't say I'm not going to sell to blacks or purples or whatever it is. I just told them (chuckles) that. They couldn't answer.

My partner was Chinese, and he went in there. He was taking a Berlitz course on memory. There were these eight or nine guys, and when he [partner] left, he got up and called them by their first and last name. It shook each and everyone up. (chuckles) So we kind of shook them up a little over there.

But we used to have a lot of Chinese salesmen. But then after the Taiwanese people started coming in, they started going to their own agents. But anyway, the thing is we had an office there. We even had an office in San Fernando Valley

for a while. We had one there in Los Feliz. My former partner opened that one up. I opened it, and he took that one. But I think he closed it and retired more or less.

But this office here on Jefferson is the same telephone number it's been for 50 years. It used to be Parkway 1153, something like that. I see one sign. We've been here 50 years. So I think that I got kind of stuck here. Maybe I should have gone to Cerritos

or places like that. But there's a lot of action in this town, because we used to sell liquor stores, grocery stores, just about anything, apartment houses. It's getting much more Latino now. So I was looking for a Latino salesman.

Ito

So you've been adjusting your business to the demographic shifts?

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Inouye

That's right. Now today, the blacks have taken over where the Japanese were. Now, the young black buyers have got good jobs. They work for the County. They work for the [Los Angeles Department of] Water and Power [DWP], and the post office. They come in with good down payments and buy the houses in Leimert Park. Few Latinos are buying, but not very many. So, blacks—their parents and they used to live there themselves. They moved away, and they're coming back. Those are very nice homes in there. It's well kept.

So, this area here, the Nisei are getting older, and they are—Like [on] Tuesdays, the place [Seinan Senior Citizens' Center] is jam-packed. They have lunch here. They have karaoke, dance classes, exercise classes, mahjong or whatever it is. And they're just gradually moving out. They're retiring. Well, they're already retired, but they come here. Roy [Yokoyama], he's doing a heck of a job. He's the head of the Senior Citizen. So, we're just renting from them.

There used to be a drug store here. I don't know if you remember Koby's Drug Store. [It was] very large. He retired, too. So, I just sold the Japanese Gardener's Association. They used to have 2,000 members or something. Now they're down to 200. They just moved in. They sold the building to Mr. Shields. He's a transfer, moving company, small one. The gardeners moved into the next door here to one of our offices here. But they are all retired. The gardeners are all retired. So, gradually the Japanese are fading away here.

Ito

So yourself and your family live here in Crenshaw?

Inouye

No. Come to think of it—oh, yeah. That's right. In 1948, I think, I bought a house here, but then I moved to West Hollywood. Then from there, I went to Bel-Air [Estates]. I've been there for about eight years. Very large house I bought to speculate on, but I got stuck there because the interest rate went up. But, anyway, now I stay at the Tokyo Villa.

I find that that's the most convenient. You see how fast I got here? 10, 15 minutes (chuckles) I was here. And we would work late. We just go out to Chinatown and go and eat. There are all kinds of restaurants downtown.

Ito

What year was it that you were married?

Inouye

I think I was married 1946; it was right after I came out of the army. Then I started the business a year or so afterwards in '47. So I lived near the Hancock Park

area there. Hancock Park was a Jewish area, so my kids all grew up in a Jewish neighborhood.

Ito

How many children do you have?

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Inouye

I have three. One passed away. But I have an older son. His name is Daro Inouye. He's an attorney in San Francisco, a public defender. I think that he enjoys his job. He's been there for twenty-some-or-odd years now. He's got about seventy-five attorneys under him, but he isn't money-oriented. He just likes to defend the blacks, Mexicans, Filipinos, Koreans, (chuckles) and the Japanese also. But he just enjoys his job. It's not because of making money. In fact—I think—his wife was kind of upset that he wasn't making more money, so he filed for divorce. (chuckles) So he's single now.

My daughter lives in Pasadena.

But, I'm looking for somebody to take over. But everybody thinks it's a tough business. It really isn't that hard, because I could teach them. But it's amazing how much we learned in all these years. The Mideasterners are especially very good in negotiating. I was just thinking today I ought to advertise—Sometimes I get a new salesman. He puts down real estate counselor. I said, "How long have you been in the business?" He said, "Four years." (chuckles) "What do you know in four years?" But we could be counselors, because we get to the point where we were very fortunate we didn't go to court. I solve everything before we do. We just stay out of trouble; and some people—50 years is a long, long time. Before I knew it, it was 50 years.

But I found out that work is my hobby. It really isn't work, because negotiation is like playing poker. I always say the name of the game is poker, and it's acting. You got to read the other person's mind, so it's a lot of fun. I meet a lot of people. It's not a drudgery to come to work. It's just the challenge. We don't sell as many as we used to, but that's not the point. It's just that I don't know what else to do. I don't play golf, and my hobby has become work.

Ito

I have one last question and if you have any other comments—If you were going back to the height of the Crenshaw area and the Japanese American community, what would be the landmark of the Crenshaw area?

Inouye

I think when they used to have the Crenshaw carnival, and the obon,

or the dancing at the Crenshaw Center. I think that was about the height of it, because my cousin came from Japan one day, and I took him over there. He had this amazing look on his face. I speak Japanese very fluently. I said, " Do shita no?" He said, "They all have Japanese faces, and only American words coming out of his mouth." (chuckles) And I said, "Yeah. I guess so." He just thought it was just amazing. But they used to have carnivals

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there, and the churches were all flourishing. When the kids grew up, they bought their homes in better areas—

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Inouye

—different clubs had in the churches. From Centenary Church and all the different clubs in there, Optimist Club. They all had booths, and they would have just penny pitching, or dime pitching, and hot dogs, and whatever it is, sushi, and dango,

and then they had the ondo. Then, they put on judo and the kendo demonstrations. It's sort of like [what] they have at Nisei Week. At that time it's about as big as it is now, because Nisei Week is getting smaller. They just brought in a whole lot of Sansei kids. They all knew each other, and they all grew up there. They're all in their fifties now.

Ito

Do you have any other last comments. Is there anything that else that you want to add?

Inouye

Oh, I was going to say there were 22 real estate companies from Vermont to Crenshaw and around Crenshaw, Japanese Americans. It was really booming. Now I think we're the only ones left. Yeah. One of the salesmen that used to work for me, he just passed away about two years ago. So on Jefferson Boulevard, on one block, there used to be two or three Japanese real estate offices—Seinan Realty, Asia Realty—oh, you name it.

They got so many of them depending on the placing. So this is the last hold out here. I think that Roy Yokoyama of Senior Citizen [center] was saying that they are going to have to close up because the Nisei ladies are getting older and dying off. The credit union is going to have to close up pretty soon, because they're getting just fewer and fewer members.

Ito

What would you attribute your success and longevity to?

Inouye

We never over-did anything. Sometimes a new office opens up, and they've got secretaries and private offices. We would have that, too, but they would start off big. We're just conservative. Oh, you go to their offices, and they got thick carpets, and they got three secretaries, and they got champagne flowing. I says, "Good for them." (chuckles) But then, we have always been conservative, and I think that just kept us going. We've made a fairly good living. I was taking it easy because I didn't sell properties myself, not too much. I just took care of their troubles and problems. Now I have to do it myself, but I don't mind.

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But the thing is, 50 years in real estate business, not too many last. They all go big, and then they fade away. I used to wonder why. But you just can't think it's going to last forever, because you have an up and down. It's been down for a long time. It was bad. At one time I had a couple of offices, and I was losing $10,000 a month just from the overhead. Then, I think that it was going to change, but it just kept on sliding down and down. It's been down for a long time. Now, it's starting to just pick up a little bit. But, there's been riots, those hurt.

So what we did is we just pulled in our horns and don't advertise and keep our expenses down. We don't buy anything new. These desks are almost 45 years old. Can you imagine that? These chairs are old, but then you just don't get fancy. That's all. Then, it's picked up quite a bit in the last—that's why my desk is such a mess, because I just got through doing four, five deals all at one time. But they know our company from all these years.

The old-timers call us. And still, we always feel that the Orientals have cash. We're in the Yellow Pages, and we don't do too much advertisement. It's just old customers that come back. I'm not bragging, but we try to be very ethical, honest, and we just don't cheat anybody. We could be in the middle of a Japanese community here where all these senior citizens come. They all either bought a house, or relatives bought a house from us, and I don't have to hide. So I feel pretty good about it. Those others take advantage of the situation like that. Many of these kind of faded away. I think honesty is the best policy.

I feel that it's a good opportunity for a lot of young men to get into this thing, but they all want to sell these half a million dollar houses. But when that stops, it's like a brick wall. People that have money have a pretty nice home already that's worth $300,000 to $400,000. Then they don't have to buy when the interest rate goes up. But the working people are living in the single apartments with five kids, two families. They just have to buy.

So now we are selling to—I think this part of town is going to become Latino. It's already now. And the African Americans—I don't know. We used to call them Negro (chuckles), but then—I guess—they say blacks now. Now they say African American. I think they should have said that from long before. They seem to be moving out. They can't discriminate, so they're buying anywhere.

A lot of them went way out to Moreno Valley,

and they found out it's too far. It takes you an hour to drive in. But the Japanese Nisei, they are like the average Americans. They buy anywhere. They go just about anywhere you can think of. So this has become—it's not as safe here as it used to be.

Ito

Okay. That's great. Do you have any other comments?

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Inouye

Well, I think that we said about everything. Oh, one thing is when I was going to high school I used to wonder why people would go out for sports. They have sports, because when you get out in the world, I says, "That doesn't help you." But it does. It teaches you to practice hard and not to give up. Determination and persistence is the whole thing. That is very uncommon today. People don't—

—When I was 12 years old, they sent me out to Torrance

picking strawberries, because my father used to sell fertilizer. He'd take me out to the farmers and tell them—Boy, when you're out there 12 hours or 16 hours picking strawberries from 6:00 A.M. in the morning to 6:00 P.M. at night, and then [working] another two more hours [with] the truck lights on [to] finish up, that's work. So if you do anything else, it's so easy. It's like play.

Every young man or young lady I see, I tell them, "Get into real estate business. You have no investment." You sell a piece of property, then you make a good commission right then and there. You sell a house for $100,000, you're talking about $6,000. If you sell a house for $200,000, you're talking about $12,000. How easy is it to make $12,000? Otherwise you can't.

It's so easy that I encourage everybody to get into the real estate business. But a lot of people get into it because they think that they're going to make money real fast, but it's work. It's work. You can't do anything else. You've got to do that.

Sometimes you have to work seven days a week if you have to, but when you make a few deals, you [can then] go to Vegas and take a vacation. Whereas, [if] you sell anything else, you can't never make that kind—And you don't have no investments. You have no money out, except just advertisement. If you work for a company, they pay for the phones.

But I think it's a fantastic business, and I was very lucky that I got into it. But I learned to have determination and persistence, from going to school and going out for sports. I think that's very, very important. Like I say, like the Yellow Pages, they pay good. They ask you, "Have you been a club president? Or have you been a cheerleader? Or a captain of a basketball team or whatever it is?" And that's very important. So when you go to school, you go there to learn how to learn. I think I recommend this to everybody. Thank you.

Ito

Thank you. That's great. Not only are you a successful real estate man, but you're a rich source of history for the community, too.

Inouye

Yeah. I think that this other guy says, "Oh, Kaz. You're a legend out here." And I says, "Yeah." So I've learned it and lost it.

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Ito

Thank you so much for letting us spend time with you.

End of interview

Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka

• Interviewee:
•     Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka
• Interviewer:
•     James Gatewood
• Date:
•     May 27, 1998

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Biography

Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka

	"The Nebraskans didn't know
	whether we were Chinese,
	Japanese, or whatever....it
	was the first time I felt that
	people accepted me for what
	I was, and they didn't have
	any preconceived notions
	about Japanese....in
	Nebraska they just took us as
	Americans....We were invited
	to their homes. That in itself
	was a revelation."

Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka was born in Los Angeles, California. Her family moved to Hollywood in her early-teens, where she grew up and attended high school in Hollywood. Her father had a flower shop, but eventually sold it and built a large nursery in West Los Angeles. The nursery business was quite successful, and because of this, her father was able to build a house for the family. Nursery clientele generally included upscale customers, especially those in the Hollywood entertainment industry. The nursery also catered to luxury hotels, lodges, and estate homes. Unlike regular nurseries that carried bedding plants, the Nishi nursery sold exotic plants.

The night of December 7, 1941, hours after the Pearl Harbor attack, Mary Nishi's father was apprehended by the FBI and later taken to the U.S. Justice Department-run internment camp in Missoula, Montana. Although Mary Nishi was still too young to fully comprehend her father's absence, life suddenly became much more difficult for her mother. She was left with the responsibility of maintaining the nursery and ultimately its sale. Offers of purchase for the nursery were so ridiculously low that her mother finally donated it to the Veterans Administration. Meanwhile, the family was fortunate, for they were able to leave their house in the care of the mail carrier, who offered to live in the house and pay rent. In fact, when the Nishis returned after the war, their house and belongings were left intact.

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During World War II, Mary Nishi, her sister Midori, and her mother were incarcerated in Manzanar concentration camp in Inyo County, California, while her father remained at Missoula. In November of 1942, she and her sister Midori left camp to attend college in Lincoln, Nebraska. The departure marked the first time they were separated from the family.

In Nebraska, Mary Nishi worked as a live-in domestic for a prominent attorney and his family. She was able to work and attend classes at Nebraska Wesleyan. Nebraska Wesleyan was a small college. Mary and Midori, both enrolled as geography majors, found the faculty and students kind and accommodating. After about a year, Mary Nishi found a job at a downtown Lincoln hotel, making salads and desserts. Her food service job allowed her to support herself through school. For housing, she and her sister stayed on campus in the dormitories.

After the war, Mary Nishi returned to Los Angeles and helped her family resettle in their old home. She continued her college education at UCLA [University of California, Los Angeles], where she also earned her secondary school teaching credential. While looking for a job, she was told that the placement bureau was only accepting Japanese Americans as elementary school teachers, not as secondary school teachers. She was eventually hired at Lafayette Junior High School, which had a very diverse student body. She has also taught at a number of other schools, worked as a reading consultant to the school district, and has taught adult education.

Mary Nishi married George Ishizuka and together they have two daughters. She has been very involved in the West Los Angeles Methodist Church, even though her father was very active in the Los Angeles Buddhist Church. In the postwar period, Mary Ishizuka was involved in forming a church girl's group called the Atomettes. She has also served on the board of the Japanese American Citizens League [JACL].

Interview

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Mary (Nishi) Ishizuka recounts her pre- and postwar experiences in Los Angeles, including her family's prewar life in Hollywood and West Los Angeles. She describes her wartime years in Manzanar, and her experiences as a student at Nebraska Wesleyan. Her discussion of West Los Angeles during the resettlement period addresses the activities of the West Los Angeles Methodist Church, detailing its leadership and services. She also talks about her career as a teacher, commenting on the rewards, as well as obstacles, of a teaching career. This interview conducted by James Gatewood in Santa Monica, California, on May 27, 1998.

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Gatewood

This is [a] REgenerations [Project] interview with Mary Ishizuka. May 27^th.

Well, thank you so much for agreeing to be interviewed today. We're very excited to be here. Particularly me, because I'm going to ask you lots of interesting questions.

Ishizuka

I hope I can be helpful.

Gatewood

That's great. Well, first what we're going to do is—I'm going to talk about the prewar period. What I'd like to do is—I know that your father in particular was very involved—your whole family, for that matter—in the nursery business; first in Pasadena,

then Wilshire [Boulevard]—you moved all around Los Angeles. I was wondering if you could give me a sense of what your life was like as a child.

Ishizuka

I was born in Los Angeles; in our home at Western [Avenue] and Beverly [Boulevard], to be exact, behind our flower shop. During my junior high years, we relocated to Hollywood, and I went to school in Hollywood. During that period my dad sold the flower shop on Western, and then built this huge nursery in West Los Angeles.

That's when UCLA was just beginning, too.

I remembered the nursery site had a big orchard that had to be chopped down first. It seemed, at that point, it was a long distance away from our home in West Hollywood. He had a very thriving nursery from the beginning, because the whole area was rather upscale living and had a lot of entertainment people residing near Westwood. He had people like Will Rogers and Shirley Temple's parents and many of the movie industry as customers—besides the chancellor of

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USC [University of Southern California]. So he had a very thriving nursery. He just had a good sense for business.

It was not an ordinary nursery, he carried huge trees and lot of kentia palms—[and] at that time it was [a] plant used in upscale hotels, lodges, and big homes. He had a lathe house full of kentia palms, which was worth a fortune in itself. He also had a lot of huge trees, rather than the bedding-plant type of nursery, as well as a lot of exotic bushes.

Because he had a very thriving business, just before the war, we were able to build a new home on Corinth Avenue. Our whole block was new homes, which for Japanese at that point was really something, to be able to afford a new home. So we felt that we were very fortunate and being well on the way to a certain form of wealth that most Japanese did not have.

Then on December 7, 1941

—dad, that very night at 9:00, was taken by the FBI. We didn't know at the time that they were FBI officers. They came up to the door, and they walked right in without even being invited. My dad had already retired [and]—they went into his bedroom. We were afraid to say or do any[thing]—or resist. We had figured it had something to do with the war and they might be the FBI or detectives. They wanted to take our dad down to the police station for questioning. So we didn't ask how long, or when he'd be back, or where he was going. We found out later, he was taken to the police station, and then, down to San Pedro. But they never let us know where he was. They never gave us any information until later on we found out that he was moved to [Fort] Missoula, Montana, where, I guess, the first Japanese aliens were taken to.

I was in high school at the time, and I was too young to really feel, the extent that we do now, what a loss it was to my dad and my mom. It is difficult to understand why he was incarcerated—because he had been in the United States since 1904, possibly earlier. He was well established as a community leader, and businessman.

My father's absence was hard on my mother. She had the responsibility of the nursery and to try and sell [it]. Items, especially trees, were very difficult to dispose of in the short time that we had. It was a traumatic time. We couldn't sell very much, and we were offered so little for the nursery. It was worth at least $100,000 at the time. My mother was so angry that she was offered so little for the nursery that she decided to just donate it to the government, to our neighbors, [and] the Veterans Administration.

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Some of the trees you see along the freeway are still part of our nursery trees that were left. I don't know what they did with most of it. Our donation made the newspapers at the time and I do have the articles in my file. The Daily News gave it a front page spread. But my dad remained—I'm not sure how long—I think it was a couple of years, in Missoula, Montana. The rest of the family went to Manzanar.

Gatewood

I'm sorry, you've covered a lot of ground, so I'm going to try to back track just a little bit. I'd like to get a sense—you had talked about this building-up of the community—well, at least along Corinth [Avenue]—of these new homes. I'd like to get a sense of what was the community like here in West Los Angeles prior to the war.

Ishizuka

In West Los Angeles we were rather new to the community. It was a very tight community centered around the Japanese Buddhist church and the Methodist church. I don't know if there were any other churches. I had just graduated from Hollywood High School, so I really didn't get to know the community until after the war.

Even my dad was more involved with the Los Angeles downtown Japanese community. He was a leader in the Koyasan Temple group and with the Florist Association and the nursery associations. So we were not really involved with the West L.A. community before the war. But after the war, I became very involved, because I was one of the early ones to return [from camp].

Gatewood

You mentioned that your father was supplying many of the more prominent people—given the locale where he was located in West L.A.—who else was he supplying in terms of his products [and] plants? Was he supplying local gardeners, for example?

Ishizuka

Not so much gardeners. Gardeners tend to go to smaller plants, bedding plants. It was mainly the upper, middle-class, and very wealthy residents around Westwood and Bel Air that he was supplying plants to, as far as I know. I really didn't know too much about the business. I would say that landscapers probably used the trees. But I remember the quality of the people coming into the nursery. They were all very wealthy people. Of course, their gardeners might have purchased the plants from him. But it wasn't wholesale, it was primarily retail.

Gatewood

In terms of your earlier life, when you were, in elementary and high school. This would have been, in the Hollywood area. What were your early school days like? Tell me a little bit about that.

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Ishizuka

We were in school—Cahuenga Elementary School. And that was in primarily a white community. So we felt that we were not really in a Japanese community. There were about three Japanese families. I felt we had a very good education there. Our kindergarten teacher lived on our same block. We were well treated and felt no discrimination at all. [We] had a very good education, because I remember the teachers from the early periods—kindergarten, second, third grades.

For middle school, we went to Virgil Junior High School, where there were many Japanese students. It was my first experience with a lot of Japanese students. I guess I did primarily have Japanese friends because by that time we were also going to a Japanese school in the Virgil area.

We were sent to a Japanese church for Sunday school—a Protestant church, and my dad was very prominent in the Buddhist church. But they sent us to a Presbyterian church in the Virgil area. So from my junior high years, I would say, I was primarily with other Japanese.

Later on, we moved to West Hollywood, and I ended up in Le Conte Junior High, and graduated from Hollywood High. But there, too, there were many Japanese students, and we continued our Japanese school education even in high school. We really didn't know many of the Caucasian students.

I don't even go to the reunion because I don't remember the students. I don't think I would know the students, and the Japanese I knew have just relocated all over [the] U.S. I haven't been to a Hollywood reunion. My sister went to Belmont High. My older brother and sister went to Fairfax High—they went to different high schools.

Gatewood

That was important. Well, two things: first of all, most people who went to Japanese language school, [do] they have feelings one way or the other about their experiences there? I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about your experiences.

Ishizuka

In Japanese school? Well, I think you'd probably get the same response: all our friends, we hated Japanese school. Everybody I talked to was forced to go. We went there just to have fun. I could say that, as far as learning Japanese, I learned a little kanji,

and [have] very little speaking ability. I don't think I learned very much, even though I went through 12 years. It was fun, though, because we always had games to play in-between. I guess we must have learned something, because when I go to Japan I begin to recognize characters and I can read certain of the signs that I see. So I say, "Well, some of it stuck." I really felt that we were forced to go and I resented the experience.

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Gatewood

I've certainly heard that before. It doesn't come as a shock.

Another issue I think you touched upon, in terms of your school life, is this sense of not really feeling discrimination from your teachers. Later on that evolved, because you went to these schools where there was a larger population of Japanese Americans. But I'm curious to know what interethnic relations were like in the larger communities in the prewar period. Specifically, what were they like in Hollywood, and West L.A.?

Ishizuka

We stayed pretty much with [the] Japanese community. Our friends were all primarily Japanese. In school, I guess, we did have some Caucasian friends, as I recall. We participated in all the activities—not so much the governing—taking offices. I guess some did, but I was too shy to be involved that way.

I joined sports at both schools. I really was not involved with school life that much. It was partly because of my own character—being very shy and more book-wormish. I did not even want to be involved in sports. So I didn't have a relationship with Caucasian students—but I never felt discrimination, per se.

When the war broke out, we were afraid to go out, or go back to school the next day. But I did go back on the third day, and I didn't feel any discrimination even then. I graduated in February '42, after the war had begun. And I guess because we were pretty much with the Japanese students at the time we weren't aware of discrimination.

Gatewood

In terms of talking about your family during this time, you mentioned that—which is kind of unusual—your family had a certain level of affluence; I mean, your father, given the nature of his business, and the success found therein. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about what your relationship was like with your parents or what your family life was like during this time.

Ishizuka

Well, I think it might be true of most Japanese families—partly because of the language, partly because of the culture—we didn't really converse with our parents as much as most American families do. We did amongst our siblings, [and]—we felt loved by our parents, but we had very little to say to each other, as far as a parent-child relationship. I wished, later, I had that. But we felt this was the way. In all families, children are not heard in a Japanese family. (chuckles) So I feel that I really didn't get to know my parents that well. We always sat together, we always had dinner together, but other than that we didn't do that much together as a family. We didn't take trips. I guess most of the families did not—our parents were just busy working all the time, or busy with their church. So we felt that we missed out.

Actually, even going to Manzanar and Lincoln, Nebraska that was the first time we ever traveled outside of Los Angeles. My dad had a huge acreage in

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Pacoima —and his brother took care of it—of roses. He sold roses primarily wholesale. That was the big thing: going over the hill to Pacoima with my dad to the nursery. But other than that, we did very little other than—go to kenjinkai picnics. We always had a Wakayama kenjinkai picnic, usually in San Pedro. Those were good memories. [We] had those races and lots of good food. Other than that, our family really didn't travel. It's a matter of having time, with six children in the family and the work. In spite of the affluence, they just couldn't find the time to do—things together like we do with our kids now.

Gatewood

That's very interesting. Do you recall, in talking about this kind of—it sounds as if—as was the case with most Issei, the sense of having a strong work ethic. What kind of values did you see your parents impart to you as a child?

Ishizuka

I think our obligation to get an education was uppermost. I left camp early because I felt I had to get a college education. Education being a primary goal, I think, stemmed from the parents always providing us with lots of books, including a set of the Book of Knowledge. Whenever a book salesman came, they would always purchase more books. So we knew that this was an important part of our life. And I loved to read.

My mother told me that she never had to worry about me because I was in my room reading. So I didn't even have to do housework, I could go in my room and read. To them, our education was important. We all did go on to college; and my sister's getting her doctorate was important. I got my master's [degree] even when I didn't need it. I just felt I had to do that as far as getting an education. All six of us went to college. So I think, at least, that was one legacy my dad was able to see—that we did go on to college—even though he didn't have his nursery or his business left when he came back. My parents were pleased because this was one of their goals, I'm sure of this, although they never said so in so many terms. It was just the environment that they made for us. That it was important. I feel fortunate that we all did get the utmost out of our education.

Gatewood

One thing you'd mentioned—before going on, I just wanted to talk about this—this sense of your father being a very prominent figure in the Japanese American community. You mentioned how he was prominent, particularly in the Buddhist temple. Yet you were still going to a Protestant or Presbyterian Sunday school. What was the impetus behind having you and your siblings—?

Ishizuka

—we all went to a Presbyterian church. It shows that he really felt that for us to be good citizens, being a part of the Buddhist church was not necessary for us. And I guess, there wasn't a Buddhist church or Sunday school close by. We had

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to go all the way into Los Angeles. The Presbyterian church had a bus that picked up all the students and young people from all through Los Feliz and Hollywood. It was convenient.

The Buddhist religion, I guess, wasn't something we needed to follow. But we do respect our parents' religion and we do go to the Buddhist temple whenever there's a special occasion as—a memorial for my mother and dad. So we went to both churches in a sense. My oldest sister, Midori, did join the Buddhist church. My daughter, as it turned out, (chuckles) joined a Buddhist church after she had been to the Methodist church, partly because her husband belonged to the Buddhist church. They [my parents] just felt what was best for our education.

It turned out to be one of the best things, because they couldn't take us and do things that our Sunday school did. With our Sunday school teacher we took trips to Griffith Park

and local sites, which the family was never able to do. I remember those trips with the Sunday school group as special, because we wouldn't have seen the city at all, if it weren't for the church. (chuckles) Even the Japanese school, took us camping. But as a family, we couldn't do those things.

They were tied down, especially if you have a nursery. My dad had a lot of bonsai, and they had to be watered every day by hand. We had to all take care of his bonsai. They needed a lot of care every day, so he could rarely get away. He did once after the war [World War II]. He traveled around the world. Of course, he didn't [have] the nursery then. In between, he went back to Japan a few times, and my mother did also.

Gatewood

You say as a child, you were very introspective, a little shy, but yet you still did [take part in] these events, or went on day trips with the Sunday school and camping with the Japanese school. Were you involved with any activities that you recall besides—you said sports, as well? Were you involved in any other organizations or activities in the prewar period, that you can recall?

Ishizuka

No. Just the Japanese school. In high school, I played basketball, but it was not like intramural sports. It was just in school. We didn't really do much outside the church and the Japanese school activities. Organization-wise, my brother was in the Scouts. But the girls were never in Scouts or that kind of organization, which I think would have been great if we could have been involved. We probably would have, if there were Japanese Girl Scout troops. I'm sure we would have been a part of them, but there was a big Boy Scout troop sponsored by the Koyasan Temple, and they were very famous.

Gatewood

Right. Koyasan.

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Ishizuka

Koyasan. And my brother was a member of that troop.

Gatewood

Okay. Let's see here. I think we've gotten a lot of the prewar. So why don't we move a little bit into the time of the war, and you've already talked a little bit about your father. But before, just when you had heard about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, I was wondering if you could evoke for me what you were feeling when you had first heard about the bombing.

Ishizuka

We didn't know that it would take the effect that it did. At least being in high school, I just didn't realize there was that much discrimination. We just kind of lived our own lives. So when the idea of evacuation came about, we just really were very stunned, but we felt that—I guess very few Japanese really objected strenuously—or did anything about it. They felt that this is what they should do for the war effort. We did the same. We felt that it was unfair to have to sell everything, or leave things, and not be able to take much with us, but I guess because we felt that it was our duty to do this, we didn't rebel. Being younger, and kind of starry-eyed, we just did the best we could.

I realized that it really affected my mother. When we first went into camp, she broke down and cried. All the hardships we went through, broke up the family, having to go to mess hall for meals. As a young person, I felt, for me, it was an opportunity to get started on my education by going to Nebraska from camp. My sister Midori was quite bitter about leaving UCLA. She had started a pre-med [pre-medical] course. She was very bitter; she had to leave UCLA and start all over at another university.

Actually, it was the best thing for me when I went to Nebraska Wesleyan, because it was a small school. And I was able to complete three years. When I came back to UCLA to graduate, UCLA was very good about accepting all of the units acquired at Wesleyan, which they don't generally do from a smaller college. So I finished school in actually three-and-a-half years.

After graduating I felt I wanted to teach, so I did another year getting my secondary credential. That's when I really felt the discrimination. When I went to the placement bureau, they said they were not accepting Japanese secondary teachers, only in elementary. I had already gotten my secondary credential, or [was] just about to finish it. That was the biggest blow to me, as far as being discriminated against. I had no place to go, because I had a secondary credential, and no one was going to hire me. I thought that was very strange. And then a lucky break came. A principal from Lafayette Junior High School—part of L.A., schools, he had a mixed group of students—Japanese, Latin students, and black students—and he was seeking a Japanese teacher. Otherwise, I would have never started teaching at all. In fact, he even hired me before I had finished my credential.

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Things have changed since then. I was one of two of the first Japanese secondary teachers in L.A. After having been told secondary schools wouldn't hire Japanese teachers. I felt very fortunate to get a job at that point.

Gatewood

Wow! That's pretty great that you were one of the very first (chuckles) to be teaching.

Ishizuka

(chuckles) There are hundreds now. (laughs)

Gatewood

Yes, I think there's probably quite a few now. People, at some level, still have to face a great deal of adversity, but thankfully people, like yourself, paved the way. In talking about—just to get a sense of what it was like for you and your family right before you left for camp. You had mentioned again—you have gone into detail talking about your father, how the FBI came and picked him up right away after Pearl Harbor. I was wondering if I could get a sense—I know that you alluded to what preparations your family made of disposing of the nursery. What other preparations were you making to leave for camp, and how were you dealing internally without your father in the family?

Ishizuka

Taking care of our home?

Gatewood

Um-hm.

Ishizuka

We were fortunate that our mailman offered to live in our home and pay rent. We stored a lot of our furnishings in our garage. He was even good enough to bring up to camp—a couple of times—some of the things we needed. When we got back, we were able to go back into the home.

We were fortunate in having Mr. Foster and his family live in our home, because he was very good to us. He moved out as soon as we needed to come back. So, we never stayed in a hostel, like most of the families had to. I was already back in Los Angeles before the family came out. My sister and I came back, as soon as the Pacific Coast opened up—one of the first to return, I presume.

I went directly to UCLA wanting to continue my education. Looking for a job at the student placement office, I found this name, Sara Karl. She was of the Karl Shoe Company family, and she was looking for someone to stay with her children, not so much as a domestic help, but just to help her with her children while her husband was in the service. This was again, a very lucky break for us, because she took me and my sister in. We didn't have to do a great deal. But she helped me continue my education.

Her father, Mr. Karl helped me financially through graduate school. She [Sara] was like a social worker, and she was trying to help us out. Although, we helped her while her husband was away with her children, we became very good friends. When I started my teaching, I continued to keep in contact with her.

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When she went back to Europe to help the displaced persons, she asked if I would—my first year at teaching (chuckles)—quit my teaching, and be a tutor for her children in Germany. I was so anxious to travel at that point, (chuckles) I took a chance, and asked my principal if I could leave. He was willing to let me go. [Knowing] I might not have a job coming back, because I was still on a temporary (chuckles) credential, [I left and] spent about a half [of] a year in Germany. It was a good experience for me.

Gatewood

Right after the war. That's real interesting.

Ishizuka

Right after the war. So I saw Germany when it was pretty much in rubble. What I wanted to do at that point was to do graduate fieldwork in geography while there. But subsequently I decided that I really needed to find a job teaching. I came back and did my credential work instead.

Gatewood

We're making leaps to the postwar as well, much of what we will talk about. What kind of preparations was the community making, or what kinds of things were going on?

Ishizuka

That was a hectic time, because the rumors were flying, and we knew that we only could take one bag per person. We had no idea what Manzanar was going to be like. The people were saying that there were snakes, and so we were all looking around for boots (chuckles) that would protect us from snakes. We didn't know how cold it was going to be. We didn't have enough warm clothing for Manzanar at the time. [It was] like going on a camping trip. We bought things that we thought we would need for camping out, like the boots. It was hard to decide what to take and what not to take. And it was just people running around for the strangest things—like the boots.

Our family had another family wanting to join us. They knew my mother, and needed help. The Watanabes—were very helpful. Our family, Mr. and Mrs. Watanabe and their son went in as a group. We arrived in Manzanar in the evening. The authorities couldn't put us in just a regular unit, and they put us in with a barrack full of bachelor cooks for the camp.

That's when it was quite a shock to my mother, because all these men were in the barracks with cots lined up and in bed. We had to pass through them. It was late at night. [We had to] to fill our mattresses and get our cots ready. We knew it was temporary, but still it was just a terrible shock, just to have so little to start with to begin our camp life.

Later on, when they found an apartment for us. It was smaller than half the size of our living room for our whole family, except my dad. Eventually, my brother went into the army, and the two of us, Midori and I, went out of camp. But that was at least six months, we were crowded in this one room with no privacy, which

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we were not used to. Of course, you heard all this before. Getting ready to go to camp was just hectic and trying to decide what to take with our one bag limit was heartbreaking. We carried our bags to the Japanese school.

Gatewood

On Corinth, right?

Ishizuka

Um-hm. Other than that, I don't remember that much about it. It was just a new experience for all of us. Of course, with my mother, my older sister, and brother the experience probably meant something more tragic. I was not that much affected.

Gatewood

We were talking about a lot of different things. You were talking about school, but just in pulling you back a little bit, you told me a little bit about camp when you first got there, and what a stark impression it left on you. I was wondering if you can tell me—just in talking about your camp experiences—what was your—in terms of your most memorable experiences, what was your best experience in camp that you can recall?

Ishizuka

One of the best experiences [was] when we started a library. First, it was a completely empty barrack and headed by two young women. They were a little older than I. We had no books at all and started with things from around the environment, like the weeds and snakes, and then people started to donate whatever they had. Eventually, we did get a librarian from San Francisco who was able to get some discarded books, but it was still very limited. It was just fun to be in on something that was just starting.

One of the best experiences was meeting these two friends who were older than I. They were going to continue their college education. They said, "Mary, why don't you look around and see if you could find a college to go to?" This is what I wanted, so they encouraged me to make contacts outside. You needed to have a sponsor of some sort. So I wrote to the YWCA in Lincoln, Nebraska. They said they would find me a position—a domestic position, and perhaps attend—Nebraska University in Lincoln. This [was] how they're letting students out within a matter of six months. It was around November of '42, and my sister said she wanted to join me.

So the two of us were able to leave camp at an early period when no one else was leaving. It was very difficult time. Having never left the family, we [were] leaving during Thanksgiving week. We went by bus to Reno, and caught a train there. It was the most unhappy experience I spent up to that point in my life. There was a rowdy bunch of soldiers on the train, and we were so lonesome right from the beginning—homesick, and [having] never been on a train. Ever since then, I never wanted to go back (chuckles) on a train. I don't remember exactly how many hours, but it took a long time, even though there weren't very many stops to Lincoln, Nebraska.

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That was how we happened to leave camp at an early stage, and we went directly to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Don Stewart.

Don Stewart was the lawyer for the governor of Nebraska. They had a nice home. But to me, it was one devastating experience. I had never had to work in my life, and never hardly (chuckles) doing any housework at home. The first day, she had me cleaning the stairway. It just kind of humiliated me having to work right from the beginning. She could have at least given me a little time to get used to becoming a domestic. But it turned out to be the best experience. From that point, I found out about Nebraska Wesleyan, which was a smaller school. I had a very good experience there. People—the students and the faculty, were very accommodating. I had one of the finest experiences at Wesleyan.

Gatewood

I could probably vouch for that.

Ishizuka

The classes were small. Midori and I both majored in geography, because we had this marvelous woman geography professor, Dr. Rose Clark. Her teaching methods were so great that I learned some good teaching methods from her.

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Ishizuka

The hard part of camp life was the lack of privacy. We were able to cope with it, but none of us enjoyed it. We all had—well, I wouldn't say we all, had our own bedrooms [before]. We did have a sense of leading private lives, and just having to be thrown into such a situation. I can't say that, other than the library experience, that camp life was enjoyable at all. I started a nursery school, the Tateishis—with her four boys.

Gatewood

Yes.

Ishizuka

Well, she had—I guess, Rose [Honda]

told you about her sad situation.

Gatewood

Yes, about her son.

Ishizuka

I think they were the only children in my school. I helped her out for a little while. I was babysitting while I was working in the library. Other than that, I don't remember doing much else in camp. It was just getting adjusted to camp life—to the horrible food at the mess halls, (chuckles) and the lack of privacy in taking showers. (laughs)

I guess one of the hardest things for Japanese—is to not have a hot bath. [Before] we had a hot tub like the Japanese have in their homes. My parents just had to

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have a nihonburo. In our first home in Los Angeles, we had a Japanese tub, sort of wooden raft, [for] washing outside, and then soaking in the hot tub. We knew that was important to our parents, so we really felt for them, mainly in not having the privacy, and then doing laundry again in a tub.

Gatewood

That must have been particularly painful not to have [such] amenities available.

Ishizuka

Yeah. It really was.

Gatewood

There's a lot of things that come out of this. You said there were a lot of negative experiences. What would you characterize as your worst experience in camp, or can you recall such an event or particular thing?

Ishizuka

I guess the mess hall experience of having to line up and having those tin—like the army—plates. My mother's was always such a good cook, and having to deal with such awful food. We remember the cold pancakes and apple butter. We never had apple butter before. We got to hate those things, because of the camp experience. I guess later on, the camp members grew their own vegetables. But at the beginning, it was the worst kind of food that you can imagine. Usually, you were—and not able to really sit down with your family, because you had to wait in line. I feel I just remember the mess hall being a very bad experience.

But—oh, I did get my teeth fixed. I did happen to have a problem with my teeth at that point. Going to the dentist in camp wasn't pleasant, and he didn't have all the equipment needed. I don't know how the dentist managed. I guess I had some [teeth] pulled, but [he was] muttering to himself, "I don't have all the equipment." (laughs) That didn't make me feel any more comfortable about having dental work [done].

Gatewood

Oh, dear. It certainly would have been pretty traumatic—I would think. (chuckles)

Gatewood

So, you left camp. You arranged this domestic situation—I guess that's what you would consider it—in Nebraska through the YMCA. You said that you had left during Thanksgiving week. I'm curious at this point, were your parents reunited?

Ishizuka

No. My dad was still in Missoula.

Gatewood

Okay. What was [the] reaction of your mother when you told her?

Ishizuka

She was fearful, but I was determined to leave. Of course, we were all fearful of going out—as far as Nebraska, and just going out of camp. We just had all kinds of fears. But my mother really didn't have much to say. We had already made the plans without even consulting her. (chuckles) I know that she had so much fear

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for us not, knowing what to expect. Of course, we were not feeling that we would encounter any problems. I just didn't feel that it would be a problem. In Nebraska, we didn't have any problems.

The Nebraskans didn't know whether we were Chinese, Japanese, or whatever. I've always told my friend, it was the first time I felt that people accepted me for what I was, and they didn't have any preconceived notions about Japanese. It was the better feeling than we ever had in California.

People [in California] either disliked us, or had preconceived notions about Japanese, or they bent over backwards to help us. Whereas, in Nebraska they just took us as Americans—at least I felt that with the students. We were invited to their homes. That, in itself, was a revelation, because it was still a farm community.

Many of my fellow classmates were from farms. One Christmas, one of my friends had invited us to her farm. I just never imagined—having come from the city—that they still lived like [the way] we read about in books. They had no heating system, except the central stove where they would run to get dressed in front of the stove. On the Christmas tree, they had real candle lights. It was fun.

It was an awakening for me that people were still living like that, and I knew nothing about the farm life. They were such good people that we really had a great time with that experience. And they were all just very down to earth people—the friends that we met at Nebraska Wesleyan. They were very good to us. The faculty, too, I think, gave us extra help.

Gatewood

In terms of your initial settlement in Nebraska with this attorney and his family, what was your relationship? You had said that the wife put you to work immediately.

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

Well, first of all, how long did you stay with them?

Ishizuka

Not too long. They wanted us to stay, but it was probably not more than a year. We entered Nebraska Wesleyan, which is a little distance from the main part of the city, but we commuted. Wesleyan's location [was] called University Place. It must have been ten miles away or so. Eventually, we just felt that we needed to live near the campus, and I didn't want to do domestic work anymore.

So I found a job in the city, with the Corn Husker Hotel, making salads, and (chuckles) serving desserts, and supported myself through school that way. I worked part-time and I managed, because the tuition wasn't that much. We stayed in a dormitory across from the school—my sister and I. Sometimes, I'd go back and help Mrs. Stewart with her housework, but not too often. But we stayed

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in touch, and she and her husband [at] one time visited me, while we were in Los Angeles.

Gatewood

What was your relationship like with the Stewarts—yours and your sister's relationship?

Ishizuka

She wasn't ready to take anybody in. She said she had received a letter from our lawyer who gave a little background on us. Therefore, she treated us with some respect. She was a good Christian woman, and did help us out. But it was having to do domestic work, immediately, [and] having to serve dinners, during holidays, were especially difficult.

I knew nothing about cooking, but I did learn from her. I remember one holiday, I could hardly serve, because I was just crying most of the time, because it was the holiday, and here I'm serving other people. (chuckles) I'm sure she appreciated that, but I couldn't help it. She was very understanding, but it was something that we had a hard time doing—domestic work. But we never felt that we were doing—domestic work. The Japanese tend to look down on [domestic work], but after the war many were forced to become domestics.

Gatewood

So from the Stewart's home, then you took this job at the Corn Husker Hotel?

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

It seems like everything is a "corn husker" in Nebraska. (laughs)

Ishizuka

Right. (laughter) It was the hotel.

Gatewood

So how did you manage to secure that position?

Ishizuka

Oh, it wasn't difficult. I don't remember how I got the job. It was the first job I inquired about, because everybody was looking for workers at that point. It was a very busy hotel, and it wasn't easy work, but I managed. I could do it at night and still go to school. So it worked out for me. Then I commuted by bus. I forgot what my sister did—I think— she continued with some domestic work. We all worked, and we did some work at school as well.

Eventually—the last year, I was getting a scholarship. They really tried to help us out. But [because] I was so homesick—and felt that the family needed me, I left in my third year and didn't finish, and didn't take the scholarship. I really feel that I'm obligated to Nebraska Wesleyan for a fine education. so, I help them out yearly.

Gatewood

Oh; that's very nice. (chuckles) Before we talk about coming to L.A., or you going to rejoin your family, I just like to get a sense of—you had said that, for the most part, the relationship you had with other students at Nebraska Wesleyan was

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a good one. Do you recall any kind of negative episodes while you stayed in Nebraska, or were you given any kind of mistreatment because you were Japanese American?

Ishizuka

Not really. I had one psychology professor that—well, I think mainly it wasn't just being Japanese, but he was asking questions like I knew nothing about farm life, which I didn't. (chuckles) So, he was asking me, "Where are the horns on the cow?" I mean, I felt like he was singling me out, [but] I didn't have the same feeling about the other professors who gave us—a lot of consideration.

They had an excellent faculty, and the students were great. They bent over backwards to try to befriend us. For example, I was selected to be in the May Day May Pole Dance, and I guess it's an honor to be selected to the May Pole (chuckles) Dance. We got involved in, a lot of their school activities, because they tried to include us. We were happy to do so.

There were only 20 of us Japanese Americans. They did limit the number of Japanese they were willing to take in, but we were all very welcomed as far as being involved in the student activities. They still didn't include us as far as fraternities and sororities.

But that was true with UCLA, too, or any of the colleges, that Japanese were not included in the sororities and fraternities. I guess they are now, and UCLA has their own Japanese sorority. Well, they had that before the war. But that was the only thing that I felt a bit of discrimination. I just expected it, so I didn't worry about it. We had our own group at our dormitory of girls who were very friendly, and we were very close, too. So, I really felt good about my education and social life at Nebraska Wesleyan.

Gatewood

Sounds really wonderful.

Ishizuka

It was the best situation for us, better than being at a large school like the University of Nebraska. That would have been too big, and we wouldn't have gotten the same treatment—I'm sure.

Gatewood

It's an all women's college, is that correct?

Ishizuka

No. It's coed. We also got involved in the church. Naturally, being a Methodist church, I went to a Sunday school there. We also attended the big Methodist church in the city a couple of times. I don't know if you ever heard about Bishop Kennedy.

Gatewood

Yeah, I've heard the name.

Ishizuka

He was a big drawing card, overflowing crowds when he spoke. So we went to hear him. He also taught one course at Nebraska Wesleyan. I was able to take

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that course. He was just a marvelous speaker and teacher. I met him again when he came back to California where he became the bishop. He was a marvelous speaker. He started his career at Stanford, then became the minister of the Methodist church in Lincoln [Nebraska].

Gatewood

That's right. I remember hearing his name and several references to him as well. Just one last question about your university: I've read that, in many cases, the WRA [War Relocation Authority]

encouraged Japanese Americans students not to congregate or not to "fraternize" with one another while on the campus, to put their best foot forward. Do you recall any kind of admonishment, from either the WRA or amongst yourselves?

Ishizuka

No. I never felt that. We still had a small Japanese group of students, but we didn't really become one group, so to speak. We dated with other Japanese, but we were always included in the school activities with the others. So I never felt any kind of discrimination from the students. It was just a good experience [for us], all the way around.

Gatewood

So in your third year, in spite of the scholarship, you decide to rejoin your family. Do you go back to Manzanar?

Ishizuka

No. That was when they were releasing people from the camps, so we went directly to Los Angeles. My family was still in camp. So we sort of paved the way for them to come back to L.A. In fact, Sarah, the person who hired me, helped my family a lot in relocating back to California. We were fortunate that we had a home to go to. Sarah's parents, Mr. Karl, who owned the Karl Shoe Company—a very wealthy man but very humble. He also helped my family financially and supported my graduate work.

Our family did not have the problems that most Japanese had—to go to hostels, and look for positions. Of course, my dad had no business, but we had purchased the lot next to our home, and he started a small nursery on returning. He really didn't have any income—I guess, but he did a little bit of gardening on the side. He acquired an old panel truck for the gardening. He had pretty much retired by that point, although, he was kind of a workaholic. He was always doing something. He had his bonsai as a hobby. I think he learned to sit back and enjoy his retirement.

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Gatewood

In terms of coming to L.A., what drew you to Los Angeles? I'm sensing that this is probably after the rescission of the civilian exclusion order,

so in '45, is that correct? Is that the year?

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

Why did you come? I mean, did your parents contact you to come to L.A., or did you just sense—?

Ishizuka

No. We just did it on our own. And [I] went directly to UCLA—needing to go back to school. Let's see now. Midori did come back. It was right after her graduation [from Wesleyan], and she came back with me. She also wanted to continue in graduate work in geography. At that time, Clark University in Massachusetts was the top geography school, so she went there for her graduate work, and then, did her doctorate at Washington. So she was not in L.A., for long.

When the family came back, I moved back in with them, and went to UCLA from there. I wasn't with Sarah that long, because the family was able to come back within, I'd say, a few months. But we became very good friends, and she helped our family, and we stayed in touch.

The family—let's see—there was—oh, the oldest sister, Sets had gotten married in camp, so she was not returning to the home. She and Elmer had moved to work in Seabrook [New Jersey]

part of the time. When they [Sets and Elmer] moved back to West L.A., they moved in one of the duplexes near the church. So it was just the three sisters and my mother and dad. My brother was in the army at that point, and he was stationed in Japan. So, it was just the three of us girls, and my mother and dad, who moved back into the home.

I felt I needed to get a position. My parents really—financially, were all right. They still had money left in the bank and had property that they sold. It was just before my dad passed away. He had a lot of good business sense, so he bought a lot of property. In fact, he wanted to buy most of that block that we lived on, but the lawyer said, "You may not be coming back to Los Angeles." He advised him not to buy the property, which was too bad, because that property on Olympic would have been worth a lot of money. (chuckles)

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He did buy some property in Northridge —quite a bit of acreage, which he sold, and we should have kept. But his lawyer said, "Well." He was very ill, at that point. He felt that maybe my dad—I guess it was partly my dad's decision, should sell and divide the profits among the children. So we all benefited from that. But if we had kept that—the Northridge property [then], there was nothing there, except old ranches at that point. We would have been very wealthy. (laughs) So that was our experience after the war.

Gatewood

What was the community like? Talking about West L.A., what were some of the immediate—?

Ishizuka

Well, most of the people, when we first came back, hadn't returned yet. But gradually, they had the hostels on Sawtelle, and I guess the church—

Gatewood

Right. The church, in November or so, became a hostel.

Ishizuka

—became a hostel. We were all involved in just trying to get re-established, and people finding places to live. So we were very fortunate that—at least we had our house which most people didn't have. I don't remember what Rose [Honda]—whether she had—

Gatewood

She lived in a hostel. She lived in one on Cotner [Avenue], and then—the church's hostel for a little while.

Ishizuka

My husband had lived in West L.A., before the war, and they had rented a duplex. They had bought all new furniture, and had expected to at least have their furniture returned, because they were making payments on it. When they went back to get the furniture, the husband and wife [caretakers] had gotten a divorce. Nobody knew anything about the furniture. (chuckles) So his was a complete loss, and that's how most of them, you know, had nothing to come back to. At least we had our furniture and most of our furnishings stored. In fact, they used our furniture. We had all of our furniture still intact and in good condition. So we just felt fortunate that we did have most of that to come back to.

Gatewood

Very unusual.

Ishizuka

We felt fortunate—except that we felt bad that dad had lost his big business. He worked so hard all his life to start that business, and then just—having no business at all. I'm sure it was very hard for him.

Gatewood

You said he went into gardening, a little bit?

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Ishizuka

Some gardening—not much, but he did start a nursery. It was very limited. He had financial resources from before, so he managed to be able to survive and—he became a citizen as soon as Japanese were able to become citizens. He didn't seem to harbor really bitter feelings, or he never showed it to us. I think that was all the way through. I'm sure that probably he was bitter in camp in Missoula (chuckles), because he was thrown with all the aliens who were taken as he was. But to his family, he never showed this bitterness about losing his nursery, or at least, I never felt it. They seemed to take it in stride, and we admired them for it. It was a great loss as far as business-wise.

Gatewood

In terms of the community—the dynamics of the community in West L.A., what was the reception like for Japanese Americans coming back? Do you recall anything personally—any kinds of discrimination or were there things of that nature?

Ishizuka

Not really, except when I went back to UCLA, and I told you about not being able to find a job. I really wasn't feeling—I guess at that point, of course, we all felt more Japanese, in the sense that we were sent away because we were Japanese. But I didn't have any bad experiences. Sarah was so helpful to us, and being Jewish, they were helping the Jewish people who were displaced in Europe. She was extra nice to us.

But I felt that there was no real camaraderie at UCLA, or opening up to the Japanese. There was one sociology professor who—I guess he was a sponsor of the Japanese club, before the war [the Bruins]—and he wanted me to help start a Bruin Club again. I said, "This is the reason that we were probably sent to camp, because people didn't know us, because we stayed in Japanese groups." (chuckles) So I disappointed him in saying, "I refuse to belong to a Japanese group."

Actually, at UCLA, I didn't have very many friends. I didn't have any Japanese friends. They hadn't really come back in full force yet. I did have a few American friends, and they were good friends, but not really involved in any of the UCLA activities. I don't know whether it was because of my doing, rather than being discriminated against.

I think I met the chancellor—not officially, but just in passing. They all seemed to welcome us back. The geography department professors were very good to me. So I think being in that kind of academic climate, we didn't feel any real discrimination, even at UCLA. Of course, the students probably didn't know about our situation. There were very few Japanese returning at that point. I don't know how any of the others reacted to this environment.

Gatewood

Many Japanese Americans didn't come back initially, and then gradually more and more came back towards the end of '45, and more into '46. I was wondering, if you could tell me how, in the early stages, did the Japanese American

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community in West Los Angeles, start to build up itself again? What kinds of changes were apparent in the Japanese American community in West L.A., that you can recall?

Ishizuka

I think they were more open—I would think—at least I was becoming more Americanized. I felt that I needed to get out and away from the Japanese community. And I felt it very strongly about this, but eventually, the Japanese went back to their Bruin Clubs and back to their Japanese community. They just couldn't seem to break away from that. I felt very strongly that it was not the thing to do, thinking that maybe the evacuation was a result of this. If people knew us better, I thought more people wouldn't have been as anti-Japanese as they were. So I tried my best to try to get involved in [the] kinds of activities other than in the Japanese community. But I did feel an obligation to help the Japanese out, and I did support the JACL [Japanese American Citizens League].

I felt the JACL was very often wrongly criticized. You know, you've heard that they were criticized, and blamed for the evacuation, which certainly wasn't true. They said that we just needed to go along with what the government was doing. But there is a lot of anti-JACL feeling. Whereas, I felt just the opposite, that the JACL was necessary. So I became very active in the JACL.

Gatewood

When was this, at what point?

Ishizuka

After the war.

Gatewood

Very soon after or—?

Ishizuka

Yes. Very soon after graduating. There were just a few of us who started the JACL chapter after the war—Elmer Uchida, Richard Jeniye, and Sho Komai were the first presidents, and I was on the board from the very beginning. There were very few involved in the JACL at that point. There were some strong feelings against the JACL. Whereas, we felt it was a necessary organization, because we wouldn't have had many of the laws such as obtaining citizenship, and getting rid of the Alien Land Laws,

if it weren't for JACL. So we certainly supported this part of the Japanese community. I was very involved in the Redress Movement.

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I think I was the president of our chapter at that point, and I really give JACL a lot of credit for most of the progress that the Japanese made after the war.

Gatewood

Well, I'm interested, and I'm glad you brought this up, because just in doing my own research on West L.A., the JACL, I mean, I haven't come across a lot of references to it, but I know it had re-organized. At least by 1950, there was a strong presence. I think, as you indicate, there was even before that, there was sort of a smaller presence. What kind of services would the JACL—in your capacity in West L.A.—what kinds of things were you able to offer to the resettlers—to West Los Angeles? Did you provide any services or were there any kinds of organizational activities?

Ishizuka

Oh, the JACL did a lot of get together meetings for getting acquainted with the people who were going to be elected to offices within the city or within the state. We always had that as one of our top priorities—getting people to vote. We also had health services. We developed and had many health fairs. We just had meetings—informative meetings. It was almost the center of informing the community about many things that other social services do now. So, it played an important part. I think even more so than the church.

But not everybody was a member, so there's always a few of us that were constantly involved in the JACL programs and activities. It provided a lot of services that were necessary at that time, and still they continue with the health fairs, and they still try (chuckles) to get people acquainted with the election issues and candidates. Now our church is beginning to do more of that. Next Sunday, we have something on Proposition 227. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Right. You see that a lot more.

Ishizuka

Uh-huh. I think other organizations have taken over some of the JACL activities, especially in the Redress Movement. JACL initially started the redress process. As more of the younger people became involved, the redress organization did a great deal more afterwards. But together, that was really something to get this redress on the books.

I've gotten away from [the] JACL, because there are a lot of other organizations that I felt were as necessary. Nancy Takeda and I started Toast Mistress for the Japanese women, because, we Nisei, were not able to do a great deal of speaking. We're always so shy. We don't participate when it comes to getting involved in some kind of conversation or panel or whatever.

So, she and I started Toast Mistress for Japanese women. That was very successful. But after fifteen years, we've disbanded, because people had other activities they needed to join. We felt we did a great service. Not everyone felt that they needed it, or wanted to join, but we did help a lot of women get ahead in their professions and just in their private lives—learning to speak better.

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Gatewood

Which is very important—very much so.

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Gatewood

—more of a small gathering of people? Were you able to provide any kind of services for resettlers? You had mentioned this kind of political—getting together people for information on elections and things like that.

Ishizuka

Yes. They didn't do so much on the resettling. It was pretty much later. I think most people were settled by that time. Maybe some of the chapters did, but I think—the resettlement had been accomplished already. Before people could even think about joining (chuckles) JACL, they had to find their homes first and their jobs. So I think that did not play a part in the resettlement, as I recall. There may have been some people in some chapters that did help out, but there were hardly any real chapters, even at that point. We were a very small group—maybe just 10 of us who really got the JACL started, and there weren't many that joined, because everybody was busy working.

Gatewood

Trying to get their lives back together—certainly.

Ishizuka

Even church was the same way. I was in on the beginning. Elmer Uchida, and I, helped get the church back on its feet.

Gatewood

Tell me about that. What was the context in which you reactivated the church?

Ishizuka

Well, we didn't have a regular minister to begin with, because there weren't that many back then. Reverend Fertig was a part-time minister, and—I think—he probably donated most of his services. He lived across from the church—he and his Japanese wife, Mari. Reverend Beimfohr was the Methodist minister for UCLA students. He came over to help us out. And I don't think he was part of any particular service that Methodist church provided. I think he did it on his own, too. I'm not sure. Do you know?

Gatewood

Yeah, actually he did, and I think the Westwood Methodist Church, as well with Gordon Chapman and Reverend Wheatley—So, was this prior to Reverend Kuwano coming back to the church or—?

Ishizuka

Yes. I believe it was. I'm not clear about when Reverend Kuwano was there, but he became our minister. Then I was teaching Sunday school, and he asked me to be superintendent of Sunday school. I believe he was the main minister after Reverend Fertig. It was all, just, kind of, a few reverends coming and going at that point.

Gatewood

Do you recall Reverend Yamaka? Was he over at the church?

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Ishizuka

Well, I don't remember him. I just remember Reverend Kuwano. While I was teaching Sunday school, I met Dr. Sasaki—he came and visited, and then, he became our reverend.

Gatewood

So, when Reverend Kuwano came—and he came, I guess, in September '45, so fairly late in the process.

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

Who was going the English service to—?

Ishizuka

Well that's where Reverend Fertig came in. I guess it was at the same time.

Gatewood

How about Reverend Nicholson? Was he—do you recall him being around during that period?

Ishizuka

Reverend Nicholson was before the war. He kept in contact with all of us during our camp stay. But he was not an official reverend after the war. I think he was back in Pasadena—wasn't he?

Gatewood

Yeah. I think for the most part. He was really involved in starting up the hostel, but I think it was more—

Ishizuka

Yeah. He was the most helpful. West L.A. was lucky to have Reverend Nicholson.

Gatewood

Oh. I think everyone can. (chuckles)

Ishizuka

Even though my parents didn't belong to the church, he brought things up for my parents—just everybody in West L.A. regardless of whether they belonged to the church or not was helped by him. So he was a lifesaver, and as you remembered, he took care of Mrs. Tateishi's baby, taken from her before leaving for Manzanar. We'll always remember Reverend Nicholson, and I guess the church has always been close, even after the war—with. Well, he was involved with that dope program. (laughter) We helped him out with that.

Gatewood

How did you become involved with the church, though? Did you just decide to start attending?

Ishizuka

Yes. I felt that I needed the church, especially, with my Nebraska Wesleyan experience. I was in the Presbyterian church, before the war, but there was no Presbyterian church in West L.A. It was the only Japanese church. So I just started going to church while I was at UCLA. It was also—a social gathering for a lot of the young people. I kind of organized the young people coming to the church, and then, opened up our home for them, too. So Reverend Kuwano's

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daughter—have you met Rose? She was a part of that group, and a lot of the young people of college age—

Gatewood

In terms of just trying to get a sense of what the early church was like at West L.A. In terms of its rebuilding process—what kinds of things were available to the resettlers in terms of organizations just right after the war? I know there was a hostel there for an extended period? Was there much going on during that time?

Ishizuka

When I was involved with the church, I think there was only the one building—that wooden building and it was no longer a hostel. When I started attending our church, a very limited number of people were coming to the church. Even though Sunday school was very limited, we didn't have enough room for all the Sunday school classes. We must have had quite a few children.

I remember all the ones who were members, like the Kame boys, and Setoguchis. They were in my Sunday school class. So we had enough children to start a fair Sunday school. I was holding my class in the driveway, when Dr. Sasaki came by to visit (chuckles) our Sunday school.

Gatewood

What kinds of clubs formed? I mean, so you became involved maybe in '46, '47, around that time.

Ishizuka

With the Atomettes?

Gatewood

Yeah, with different clubs. Rose [Honda] told me that the Atomettes was the very first club really to organize the church right after the war.

Ishizuka

That's the only one I remember.

Gatewood

How did the idea for that, come together? I know that you and Rose [Honda] were primarily responsible for it.

Ishizuka

Rose primarily, and then she got me involved. (chuckles) She did most of the advising. I was in on the beginning, and then, I got involved with my teaching and other organizations and got married. So she was primarily their advisor. I was primarily their chauffeur. I was the only one who had a car. I guess she told you about a lot of the trips we took with the girls. That's what they remember and appreciate. We took them all over the city.

Gatewood

Tell me about some of these trips. I mean, she's told me about a couple, but I'd like you to talk about some of them.

Ishizuka

Well, I remember we went to Knott's Berry Farm one time. I guess I didn't have the car then, and we borrowed my brother-in-law's car, and we had a wonderful time. We sat down on a bench at one point, and I had put my purse down. In it were the keys to the car, and it was stolen [the purse with the keys]. So we were

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just wondering what we were going to do. I called my brother-in-law from Knott's Berry Farm, and he had kept a key hidden. So we got the girls back all right. (chuckles)

Rose had taken them on many trips all over with her little car. We did many local trips. I can't remember all of them. But we had a lot of activities together, like doing plays for the Christmas program, [telephone rings in the background] and in fact, they got to be very well known for their skits. Even the JACL asked them—to perform for a district conference—let's see where were we?

[break in interview]

Gatewood

Oh, you were telling me about some of the activities.

Ishizuka

We put on sort of semi plays, and they got to be so well known that the JACL, when they had their meetings, asked the group to perform for them several times. They'll be in [Rose's] album when you see it. At Christmas time, they always put on a play. They just did all kinds of things. I think that's why they're such great parents and community leaders now. Rose did a lot for them. Getting them out, because their parents were—most of them were first generation, were unable to travel. But because of the club, these girls were able to go to Monterey, San Francisco—all over. I didn't take any of the longer trips with them, but for local trips I was the chauffeur (chuckles).

Gatewood

I heard about the Catalina plane ride trip.

Ishizuka

I don't believe I went on that either, because I was at that point teaching, and I couldn't do as much as Rose did with them.

Gatewood

What was the purpose, or what was the philosophy behind the Atomettes?

Ishizuka

Well, primarily it was just a social group. They enjoyed each other's company, and they enjoyed doing things together and creating, although they didn't do as much artwork as they do right now. They liked doing the plays, and they liked to be active in the community. But mostly, they were having fun. (laughs)

Gatewood

Was there—I mean, this was only geared towards young women as well—young girls, I guess—?

Ishizuka

Well, there were only seven members. They just didn't expand. Probably started with three, Sadie and Karleen and Faye. There were three of them who were very close, and then they added a few others, like Kathi and Michi Yamaji. There were just seven of them who stayed together, and meet and enjoy each other's company.

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Now they're becoming grandmothers, and we can hardly believe it, because (chuckles) we knew them since they were in junior high school. They were a wonderful bunch of girls, and stayed close all this time. They all live in different parts of the state—one in Costa Mesa, one in San Jose, and Torrance. Yet we still get together at least several times of year. Sadie and Kathy are in West Los Angeles, and, Karleen comes down from San Jose quite often, because of her mother. Taye Inadomi is in Costa Mesa, Fran is in Torrance, and Susan lives in Fountain Valley. The seventh member, Micki, passed away some years ago.

Gatewood

I'm trying to think about all the questions I can ask. What's the source of the name, the Atomettes? Where did that come from?

Ishizuka

(chuckles) I guess it was at the time of the atom bomb. I wonder, too, how they ever came up with Atomettes. (chuckles) Everybody else wonders. But all I can remember is that it was the time of the atom bomb. I guess the term "up in atom" [or "up and at 'em"] was in vogue. I think we asked them how—and they don't remember how they happened on it either. Everyone is curious about the name Atomettes. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Yeah. I had heard that there was a newsletter that was published by the group that was called Up In Atom.

Ishizuka

Up In Atom, uh-hm.

Gatewood

That's real interesting. In fact, that was the very first of the newsletters published in the church after the war.

Ishizuka

I think the word "atom" was just in vogue.

Gatewood

Yeah. I think it was very popular. Have I missed anything about the Atomettes that you think are funny, or any interesting anecdotes?

Ishizuka

Oh, they were just a fun bunch, and they've all turned out to be great mothers and community leaders. Well, they did a lot for me. They were involved in my wedding, and they thought that was great fun. When I went to Europe, they were all at the airport to send me off. They've been as much a support [to] me, as they always claim [I was] of them. Rose really gets the credit for doing the most. She stayed with them all the time. I got involved with my family, and I couldn't always be with them. They are a unique group.

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When I was a couple of mothers—this is after the Atomettes had disbanded—well, they were still [the] Atomettes, but were on their own, so to speak. A couple of mothers from church asked if I would start another group similar to the Atomettes. (chuckles) We did—I didn't have the time like Rose, but we did have a group that tried to do what [the] Atomettes did, but they were not quite the same quality, and it might be my leadership, too. We just stayed together a couple of years. They were not that close to each other as the Atomettes.

Gatewood

So you were involved with the Sunday school as well?

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

As people started to come back from the East Coast, the numbers increased. What other activities developed in the church at this time—that you recall?

Ishizuka

We had evening programs or services, [and] we had a lot of social activities in the evening. It was a place to get together, when there was nothing else. I remember Reverend Fertig really trying to help get the social life of young people together. He would try to feel out what our interests were (chuckles) and work on that. I remember one program—at that point, for some reason, I was interested in foreign films. So he got together a group to discuss foreign films, and I guess that didn't last very long, but at least he made an effort. We did have get-togethers with other churches. We visited other churches.

Reverend Beimfohr, of course, invited us to UCLA to some of the UCLA student programs. We were there quite often. It was a center, I'd say, [for] the first young people [in] church activities. I think even—I don't even remember the Buddhist church being very active at that point. So we served a purpose in getting some young people together, more on just a social level, rather than being very religious. Although, we went to a lot of other church services around the city, as I recall, and got [I] involved in the Methodist youth group.

Gatewood

You said that you were involved with the Young Adult Fellowship, is that correct—at the church?

Ishizuka

Yes, in a very informal way. It was kind of off and on, because I was very busy with my career.

Gatewood

Oh, indeed. With your teaching, and getting married, as well.

Ishizuka

Yeah, getting married, as well. (chuckles) I often wonder how I managed to do everything. I tried to get involved in too much, I think. But I did devote a lot of time to my teaching in the first couple of years.

Gatewood

Do you recall attending any of these youth conferences in L.A., with the different churches?

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Ishizuka

I didn't get involved in that kind of conference, but we were invited to the big Methodist church in L.A.—the one on Wilshire—not Westwood, but further into town. I remember going to several of their conferences, but it was nothing like the Methodist church conference.

Gatewood

Right. The Young—

Ishizuka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

Did you—okay, this is kind of [a] digression, but what was the context, or how did you meet your husband during that time?

Ishizuka

Well that was because—he was a floral designer at Frank's Nursery, and the owner was a friend of the family. I was teaching at the time, and he asked if I would help during the holidays, which was Christmas and Easter. Those were the busy seasons. That's how I happened to meet George at Frank's Nursery.

He had lost his wife about two years prior. I don't remember exactly. And so, we started dating. I don't even remember the year. But my parents were against it, because he had already a three-year old child. I was just going against my parent's wishes, but eventually (chuckles) we got married. Midori was my maid of honor.

Gatewood

She [Midori] was really a pioneer for her time.

Ishizuka

Yeah, really.

Gatewood

There were not very many young Nisei women doctorates from—

Ishizuka

No.

Gatewood

That's why I was kind of intrigued when I found her dissertation. 1955, there weren't too many. That's very unusual. Yeah, I've seen her—she took a real active role in the church—I think—on the board for a while—not the church. I'm thinking of something else.

Ishizuka

Not the church, in her school.

Gatewood

In the school rather, yeah.

Ishizuka

She didn't do anything with the church. She was active in the school, and I understand she was a respected professor.

Gatewood

Yeah. I've heard. So, were both you and your husband involved with the church at this time?

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Ishizuka

George's mother was very involved in the church. He said all of his life he was going to one church meeting after another, and the conferences. So he just refused to go to church with me. He just gave up on church. Even to this day, he doesn't go to church.

It's strange because his mother was very religious. She even became a part-time minister in Hawai'i, when the minister took a leave. Her whole life was the church. So, she turned George away from the church, I think, [by] insisting that he spend all his youth in church activities. George said he just couldn't go to church anymore. (laughs) That's what parents can do when they overdo it.

Gatewood

In the 1950s—I guess—Reverend Kuwano left West L.A., in 1952; and Reverend Sasaki came in. Then there was just this flourishing growth in the church.

Ishizuka

Yes.

Gatewood

I was wondering what kind of the catalyst [was] behind that? Was [it] Reverend Sasaki? I don't know. The way I'm trying to pose this is, was he some kind of visionary, or what kind of factors contributed?

Ishizuka

He just was a dynamic speaker. He was able to serve the Japanese- and English-speaking members. He did build the church up. Reverend Kuwano—well, we really didn't have a regular English-speaking minister at that point. I don't know what the conference did, but they were just getting back on their feet—I guess. At that point, in the Japanese community, many just couldn't get involved that much in church. But by the time Dr. Sasaki was there, they were ready to go back to church. Of course, he drew them as well. I just don't know the reasons exactly. He had a charismatic personality, and so, we did very well with Dr. Sasaki.

Gatewood

He moved on to Centenary [Methodist Church], which was kind of a big position.

Ishizuka

That's right.

Gatewood

Okay, I'm trying to—I've been beating you up with lots of questions about the church. (laughs) I thank you for giving me [the] information. One thing I'm interested in, too—this is another church question, and then we'll move on. I alluded to this earlier—were all these lectures, in the '50s, in the church—just lecture, after lecture, about juvenile delinquency. I don't know if you recall any of this. Lecture forums on marriage, in particular.

Ishizuka

At the church?

Gatewood

Yeah. There's just record after record of these lectures in the newsletters. Maybe you don't recall this.

Ishizuka

I don't.

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Gatewood

But there were a couple—you actually gave a couple lectures at the church.

Ishizuka

Well, we did have a young fellow. He really belonged to the Buddhist church, and he started the drug abuse program. We did help them. He was on Our Lighted School Board and we did try to help them out. They were called The Yellow Brotherhood.

Gatewood

Yeah.

Ishizuka

They used the old house that is now on the Buddhist church property, and they took in Asian—primarily Japanese—young people who had drug problems.

Gatewood

When was this?

Ishizuka

Well, that was—I don't remember the exact year. But we did try to help them out. Brian—I can't think of his last name. His dad had [a] television repair shop on Sawtelle. They had many young people with a lot of drug problems, and they used that house for meetings, and we tried to support them. So that might have been where we got involved with the juvenile delinquency.

Gatewood

That's interesting, actually. Okay. I think I've asked you enough. I've gotten stuff about the church. Just talking a little bit about your career. So you were teaching. You taught at Webster Junior High School?

Ishizuka

I started at Lafayette Junior High School, which was downtown.

Gatewood

At Lafayette. You said that they were actively seeking out the Japanese teacher?

Ishizuka

Yes. Otherwise, I would have never had the job. [Mr.] Sanford was a teacher first at Emerson, and then he went to Lafayette and became a counselor there. He came to UCLA to seek me out. So I was surprised that Dr. Harriet was seeking a Japanese teacher because his school had a mixed group of students. Of course, they were short on teachers, too. He did want a Japanese teacher. So, I started there and did very well. I did work hard at my job.

At one point, they asked me to become a reading consultant for the [Los Angeles] city schools, because we had to teach reading at Lafayette. The kids didn't know how to read in junior high, and I had [a] special education class, which required teaching reading. So I became a reading consultant. For a year I advised teachers on teaching reading, and after that, I had my choice of schools to go to. Webster

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was just opening up. I was able to get in at Webster Junior High School, which turned out to be one of the top-notch junior high schools at the time.

We had a great principal who selected some marvelous teachers. So Webster had a very good reputation. I taught until I had Kirk, and took a maternity leave. I wasn't intending to go back to teaching, at least for a while. Kirk was only about two, and they asked if I would come back, because they had an opening. I did go back for a couple of years, before I had Kathy, and then, after Kathy, I retired. Actual teaching time was about eleven years all total. When the kids were grown, and Kathy was out of high school, I went back to teaching at Cleveland High in the Valley, and taught for five years until retirement. So the total amount of years was less than twenty years. I did some adult education work, afterwards.

Gatewood

What was the reaction of students or faculty? I'm just curious about this first job. I imagine it certainly changed over time, as more Japanese Americans became teachers. How did the students respond to you? Was there any kind of—?

Ishizuka

In junior high school, I felt I was well accepted. I felt less accepted in high school. I think it was partly just [the] high school students. It was harder to control them, and harder to get their respect. But it could have been that high school students were hard to teach to begin with.

I really didn't like my first year of teaching English at Cleveland. I asked if I could teach ESL, which was teaching English as a second language. That was great, because the students respected the teacher. I enjoyed teaching foreign students much more. We had some great times. We had students from Asia and Central America—of course, many from Mexico. Every time there's a problem in the world, we would get students from that area—El Salvador, Guatemala, Korea. We had a variety of students, and I enjoyed them all. They were all anxious to learn English, of course, especially the Vietnamese children. Many of them were here without families. So, in a sense, I became family to them, and they wanted me to come to their graduation. They were some of my top students.

Gatewood

Oh, I bet.

Ishizuka

Yeah. The Vietnamese students were really sharp, but you had to feel sorry for them—they were not with their families.

Gatewood

Let me see. I think we're winding down here. You're a great interview, because usually, when you're talking to people, you have to prompt them, or probe them for information, but you've given me a lot of stuff. So I'm kind of trying to figure out what haven't I asked you, or what haven't you talked about? Here's a reflective question, just in looking back kind of retrospectively—I think you mentioned this talking about coming back after the war. Japanese Americans—it was about getting a house, getting a job, getting your life back together, getting some money to support your family. What would you say is the turning point in

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your opinion in terms of establishing or reestablishing the Japanese American community in Los Angeles?

Ishizuka

For me, or just for the community?

Gatewood

For both.

Ishizuka

For me, it was starting my teaching career. It was the first real money I was able to earn and to help my family, although they didn't need that much help. But just being able to teach, and doing something on my own, although I was on (chuckles) my own for a long time. But the whole experience of teaching, I enjoyed thoroughly.

I felt I was a very shy person—introspective. But with teaching, I really developed. I guess—you get it from the students. So I felt that was a real turning point in my life, to be able to teach, and the kids would respond to me. I didn't have to raise my voice. People said, "You're so quiet." I said, "Well, when they get noisy, you stop talking. That seems to work better, than shouting at them." I felt these were kids who were very hard to teach.

I didn't always have the top students who—were usually the Asian kids from Little Tokyo. I did have some of them. They were no problem. They were always good students. But when you get into the special education, you get some pretty wild children. I find that I was able to accomplish at least getting them to respect a teacher. It was like pulling teeth to teach them. Some of them were retarded, and you knock yourself out to teach them. I felt like I was doing something for them. There were students who had very little. [I remember] getting this one smart young Latino. He was very intelligent, but he had very poor eyesight. So I brought him all the way out to Dr. Inouye.

Gatewood

Yeah, Milton Inouye?

Ishizuka

Yeah, the optician. He gave him glasses free. I also took many of the students on camping trips to the L.A., city school camp. They were the best students there, because they had never been outside of their own little ghetto area. These experiences were valuable. These kids, when given a chance to experience camping and other short trips, were the best-behaved students of all. I felt like I could do something (chuckles) worthwhile for them. But it was difficult teaching, (chuckles) to say the least.

Gatewood

Well, in fact you did do quite a bit. In talking—and again this is another digression. Forgive me for kind of jumping around, but I'm just trying to wrap up here. You had mentioned that you were active in the Redress Movement early on in our interview. I was wondering if you can talk a little bit about both your involvement in the Redress Movement, and what that meant to you personally in achieving redress?

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Ishizuka

Well, there [was] a lot of discussion about even asking for redress. There were many people against it, surprisingly. I was trying to decide which side I would support.

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Ishizuka

Since I was on the JACL board and was president at the time, we did several projects that were to raise funds for the redress. I also testified before the redress committee. None of my family would do it. I just said, "We owe it to mom and dad to tell their story." But I was scared to death, speaking to a congressional committee?

Gatewood

Yeah, the congressional committee.

Ishizuka

(chuckles)—but I forced myself to do it. When I went to give my testimony, I guess, everybody took a great deal of time telling their story. At the end of the program I had prepared myself for this speech [in which] I was going to tell about my family's losses and their hardships. The committee said, "We're going to have to end this." And I thought, "Oh, what a disappointment. I'm ready to do it."

A couple of the members who were also going to testify were very, very angry. They said, "We came here to tell our story, and we want to do it." They were very angry and shouted. So they continued the hearings. But I was only given a few minutes. I did it, with a lot of trepidation, but I felt good about it. Although it wasn't everything that I had planned to say, I felt that I did at least a little bit towards helping with the redress push. I think I did some writing for redress.

A friend of George's said he refused to take the redress money. He said, "Mary, how can you take this redress money? It's like welfare." I said, "No. We earned it. We deserve it, and—it's not really not that much when you consider the losses." He just argued with me. He said, "It's shameful for the Japanese to ask for money."

There were others who weren't quite sure about it either. Either they were angry at the amount, or just the total process. It was—I did try to argue the case. [Telephone rings in the background.] I felt good about it, because this friend that I argued with ended up asking for redress money. So he did change his mind about getting the redress check.

Once I got the check, I divided it amongst my three children. I told them what it was from, and that it's for their education, and to keep whatever ideas about Americanism and their citizenship rights alive.

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Gatewood

I think that's wonderful. Okay. My last question. Is there anything we haven't covered? I think we covered quite a bit. But is there anything that we haven't covered that you would like to talk about?

Ishizuka

Let's see. I have material [photographs, newspaper clippings, and various other documents] on this table.

Gatewood

Yeah. What we'll do is we'll roll—we're going to take over there. But is there any other topic I haven't covered?

Ishizuka

Well, we talked about our family. Oh, I didn't say how my dad was released from camp.

Gatewood

Oh, yeah. Why don't you tell about that?

Ishizuka

He was taken into custody because he was a community leader—we assumed. He was followed by the FBI for one year. We found out later when the information act [Freedom of Information Act] was out there.

We had no idea that this was happening. We believed that all the Japanese community leaders were under suspicion. He was also active in the Buddhist church. Then, I remember when the Japanese Navy was in the harbor, and the sailors came to visit. I guess all this is recorded. So that could be part of it.

But once he was in camp, I guess they had some form of screening to release. He had many good affidavits that declared that he was a good citizen. He had an award from the Rotary Club. He had a letter from the head of the Veterans Administration. Some local people that—I think—made a difference, and he was released relatively early from Missoula. But he joined the family in a matter of—a couple of years or less. I don't know how long most of the inmates stayed, but that camp stayed opened longer than two years.

Gatewood

For the duration, actually, yeah.

Ishizuka

Yeah, for the duration. So he was released because of the letters people wrote for him. But it was after the fact of losing all his business. At least he did have people to vouch for him, and I'm sure that helped a little bit.

Gatewood

I had read in the other transcript [of an earlier interview] that your father's attorney was a chancellor—is that correct? I remember hearing something to that effect—at USC or one of the affidavits was provided by—

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Ishizuka

Oh yes. He was not our attorney, but he was a good customer. He was the chancellor of SC [University of Southern California]. He was well known and he wrote an affidavit for my father.

Gatewood

Sounds like it. (chuckles)

Ishizuka

After returning to Los Angeles, my father was not the same man. He gave up on his business. It would be hard to start that kind of business all over again, and he was on in years. So we felt bad for my mother and dad, mainly. Not so much for ourselves, because it broadened us to get out of Los Angeles, for one thing, and get other experiences. But dad was never the same after he returned. He didn't have the business, but he still remained active in his church. Other than that, he couldn't do much of anything. I just feel that for the sake of the Isseis we needed to support the [Japanese American] National Museum. I put up a plaque for him and mom in the Museum.

Gatewood

Oh. That's wonderful.

Ishizuka

The first big program, fundraiser for the opening of the Museum, they had a big affair in Long Beach.

Gatewood

Spruce Goose.

Ishizuka

Spruce Goose. So, we put in a $1,500 ad in memory of our parents. Michi Weglyn,

[who] is related to us, also put in an ad for my folks in their memory, because the affair was mainly for flower growers and honoring them. So hopefully, the Issei are being remembered—well remembered, in the National Museum.

Gatewood

We're trying to. We're trying to. That's very important. Well, I think that's it for us. So thank you very much for your interview.

End of interview

Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu

• Interviewee:
•     Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu
• Interviewer:
•     Leslie Ito
• Date:
•     April 22, 1998

Biography

---

Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu

	"...they were sending student
	representatives to encourage
	us to...go to college...I wasn't
	all that enthusiastic about
	going out right away, leaving
	my family and everything....I
	wrote letters and tried to find a
	good journalism
	school....Wisconsin wrote and
	said that they would accept
	me. I needed a job, too, so
	they found a schoolgirl job for
	me..."

Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu was born in 1925 in Los Angeles, California. In 1933, she and her family moved to Hiroshima, Japan, the hometown of both of her parents. They lived there for four years before returning to the Boyle Heights neighborhood in Los Angeles. She was attending Roosevelt High School when Pearl Harbor was bombed. She has two brothers and two sisters: Yutaka, Bill, Helen, and Pat.

In May of 1942, Katsumi Hirooka and her family were evacuated and sent to Pomona Assembly Center. After several months there, they were transported and incarcerated at Heart Mountain concentration camp in Wyoming. At Heart Mountain, she finished high school and was the managing editor for the school newspaper. She also wrote for the camp newspaper, The Heart Mountain Sentinel.

In 1944, with the encouragement of the Student Relocation Program, Katsumi Hirooka left Heart Mountain to study journalism at the University of Wisconsin. While attending college, she worked as a schoolgirl for a doctor in exchange for her room and board. When Heart Mountain closed in 1945, her family returned to Los Angeles. After graduating from college, she joined her family. She lived with them briefly in a rented apartment in the Watts area. Later, she later moved into the Evergreen Hostel, which was run by the Union Church.

---

While reporting on social news for Crossroads, a Nisei weekly, Katsumi Hirooka met her future husband, a part time sportswriter who was also employed by the paper. They soon married and started a family, leaving Crossroads in the mid-1950s. While raising her three children, Katsumi Kunitsugu continued to write columns in Crossroads and the Kashu Mainichi. She later returned to the Kashu Mainichi as the English section editor, but left over a dispute in 1973. She worked until 1975 as a secretary to the owner of Horikawa Restaurant.

Working in Little Tokyo, Katsumi Kunitsugu became active in the Little Tokyo Business Association, the Nisei Week Committee, and other community organizations. In 1975, she became executive secretary for the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center in Little Tokyo, and continues to work there.

Interview

---

Katsumi (Hirooka) Kunitsugu recounts her early years in Boyle Heights, and her long connection to Los Angeles's Little Tokyo neighborhood. She discusses her family's incarceration at Heart Mountain concentration camp, and her departure to attend college in Wisconsin. She also describes how she rejoined her family in Los Angeles, the changes that the Little Tokyo community underwent, her work as a journalist, and concludes by describing her work with the Little Tokyo Business Association and the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center [JACCC]. This interview was conducted by Leslie Ito, in Los Angeles, California on April 22, 1998.

---

Ito

Let's talk a little bit about the prewar era first. Where did your family live during this era?

Kunitsugu

How far back?

Ito

Like in the '30s.

Kunitsugu

Well, in the '30s, my dad took us to Japan in 1933. So the family lived there for four years. My father came back after one year; but then my mother and my brother and sister, we were there for four years. We came back in 1937. Before we went to Japan, we lived near the Ninth Street Market where my father worked. And then, after we came back from Japan, we lived in Boyle Heights

on Second Street right behind the Benjamin Franklin Library.

Ito

Why did your father decide to take the family to Japan?

Kunitsugu

Well, he's the youngest of nine children. It was during the Depression, but working in the fruit and vegetable produce market, I think he made a little money. He wanted to show off—go to Japan and show off a little bit to his older brothers and sisters. So we went to Japan, back to Hiroshima, the little fishing village where both my mother and father were born, called Kuba. And there, he built a house. I don't think he intended that we were going to stay there permanently. Or maybe he wanted to make more money and come back to Japan, but it didn't quite work out that way. In fact, he lost quite a bit of his money. Maybe he was investing it in things or lending it to people or something. But anyway, the fortunes turned, and my mother decided—in 1937, too,

---

Japan started the war with China. And she just didn't like the idea of the family being separated much longer, so we came back.

Ito

How many children are in your family?

Kunitsugu

Well, actually there were—let's see—myself, younger brother named Yutaka, then my sister Helen, then my brother Bill, and my sister Pat. Yutaka died in 1938 right after we came back to the United States. And then, my sister, the youngest one, was born in camp, but she died when she was only 27. So right now I have one brother and one sister.

Ito

You're the oldest?

Kunitsugu

I'm the oldest. Uh-huh.

Ito

I'd like to talk a little bit about recollections of your family life during this period. Could you tell me a little bit about your relationships with your parents?

Kunitsugu

Well, fortunately having lived in Japan, I could speak Japanese with them. But the Japanese family is not a very verbal family, and neither is it very physical either. So I guess it was kind of a normal Japanese family of Issei and Nisei. They insisted that I go to Japanese school, so I went to Dai-Ichi Gakuen,

which meant that we went to public school from 8:30 A.M. to 3:00 P.M.; and after coming home, the bus came around to pick us up, and then we went to Japanese school in Little Tokyo. So we didn't get home until about 6:30 P.M. This was every day. They were pretty strict about studying hard and things like that.

Ito

Can you describe a little bit about Little Tokyo during this prewar era?

Kunitsugu

Actually, we didn't see too much of Little Tokyo, per se, because Daiichi Gakuen was located a little bit off. It was on—what was then—gosh, I forget what the name of the street was now. Hewitt Street, I think. But the old building is no longer there. It's fairly close to just north of Temple Street where Fukui Mortuary is now. I suppose a freeway goes through it now. (chuckles)

Ito

Did you make trips into Little Tokyo with your family?

---

Kunitsugu

Not very often. My mother was kind of a homebody, and she didn't like to go out too much. And actually, as kids, we weren't taken to restaurants or anything like that, except when somebody in the family got married, and then we went to Chop Suey or something. So, we didn't come down to Little Tokyo that much in the sense of some of the farming families used to come in every weekend to buy Japanese food and clothing and things like that.

Ito

When you moved back to Los Angeles from Japan, what grade level were you?

Kunitsugu

I was actually in the sixth grade in Japan and getting ready to take the entrance exam for what they call jogakko. It would be a junior/senior high school type of four-year upper level school. But we came back before that happened. So when we came back here, of course, they didn't have English as a Second Language or any helping classes in those days. They just put me back two grades to fourth grade until my English got better. The funny thing was that my math skills were much more advanced than the kids here. In fourth grade, I think, they were still doing simple—maybe—multiplication. But in Japan, we were into fractions and things like that. So during the math class, the teacher used to have me draw murals on the wall and things like that.

Ito

So, then did you finish high school in camp?

Kunitsugu

Yes. In camp. I went to Roosevelt High School. I went to Hollenbeck Junior High School, and then Roosevelt High for one year. And then the war started. And it was in May of 1942 that we were evacuated.

So I was almost through with that one year in high school. And the rest I finished up in Heart Mountain [concentration camp, Wyoming].

Ito

Do you remember the moment when you heard that Pearl Harbor had been bombed?

Can you describe that?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. That Sunday—We didn't go to church or anything. Well, we did, but—I think I went to Sunday school that morning. And then in the afternoon, [I] just happened to be listening to the radio. There's nothing much else to do in those days. We didn't have TV or anything.

---

And then we had a phone call from my cousin. He says, "We're at war with Japan." I said, "Oh, you're kidding," because he used to joke around a lot. And then the radio was announcing that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. And my dad decided to come down to Little Tokyo to see what was going on. And I don't remember too much of the details of that day, but just that it was my cousin that phoned us to let us know.

Ito

What was it like in the evacuation period? Do you remember the week that you left for camp?

Kunitsugu

Well, we had a little bit time to prepare in the sense that of course the evacuation proclamation was in February, and we weren't actually evacuated until May. For some reason, my father thought that registering with the Boyle Heights address, that we had, would not land us in a "good" camp. I don't know whether there were "good" camps or "bad" camps. (chuckles) But he decided to register under a false address, with the uptown people. What happened was our cousins, who lived on Third Street only a block away—they were not evacuated until later, and they went to Manzanar.

We left on May 10, and it was Mother's Day, and it was a Sunday. We took the bus from MacArthur Park. They had these big coaches and they loaded us in. Of course, we could only take what we could carry. So each of us had a little suitcase, and then, of course, my parents were carrying the big sort of baggage. And before that, we had to sell most of the furniture. We didn't have any place to store anything. And you just couldn't get much of anything. They gave ten cents on the dollar if that at all. So it was a lot of turmoil, because we didn't know what to expect, for one thing. And I remember they didn't even tell us where we were going. We went to the Pomona Fair Grounds, that was the Pomona Assembly Center. I remember I

---

had to go to the bathroom very badly (chuckles) and trying to get off the bus as fast as we could. (laughs) But I think we were one of the earlier ones to reach Pomona, because we got a cot and a regular mattress; whereas, the people from San Jose who came in later had to stuff the big mattresses with straw and everything. So it just depended on when you got into camp. The camp barracks were really—they were just sort of put up in a real hurry so that between the rooms you had only this one wooden board, which had a lot of knot holes. You could hear everything going on all down the whole barrack. [You could] hear people arguing, talking, snoring, fighting. (chuckles) So, there was just no privacy at all.

Ito

So how long did it take before you started back into school at Pomona [Assembly Center]?

Kunitsugu

Well, in Pomona, they didn't have school, because it was just getting into summer vacation time anyway. They had classes in different things—sort of arts and crafts classes. And I remember taking a class of fashion illustration, but there were classes in—oh, you can name it—embroidery, painting, Japanese poetry—all kinds of classes. There were a lot of people who were very good at something, and they were doing all this, I think, voluntarily; because if paid at all, the pay was only $16 a month or something like that. And we were in Pomona until August. And then, we were sent to Heart Mountain. And it was quite late in September, I think, before the first classes started in Heart Mountain.

Ito

Could you describe a little bit about your high school experience at Heart Mountain?

Kunitsugu

Well, of course, in the beginning, they didn't have any regular buildings for schools, so they used the empty barracks. And we didn't have desks. We just sat on benches for a while. And as far as textbooks were concerned, whatever they could scrounge up from the outside and bring it in. I remember trying to do geometry, where you have to lay out triangles and things (chuckles) like that. And you had to do it on your lap. It was kind of hard. We had some good teachers, though.

Ito

So had you planned at this point to attend college?

Kunitsugu

Well, I've always wanted to go to college, because I wanted to be a writer, and it was just sort of part of your, I guess, regular ambition to go to college. And my grades were pretty good in high school, so eventually the government did build a real high school building in Heart Mountain. In fact, it got all written-up in the newspapers around there. They said, "How come the inmates in the camps were getting better buildings than the schools outside?" But school life, for us anyway, we were in our teens, and we didn't worry too much about the future. [We were] just

---

sort of enjoying life as it were. We had school dances. And there were intramural sports, as well as competition with some of the football and basketball teams around the neighboring cities. We used to play other schools in baseball and things like that. We had a regular school paper. I was the managing editor. We had an annual.

Ito

Did the teachers encourage you to look towards continuing your education?

Kunitsugu

Yeah. They were among those that really told us not to lose hope, that things would get better, and things will get back to normal, and so we should continue our education.

Ito

And did you know of any high school students that had gone from the camps to colleges? Had you heard any stories about the people who had gone to college from camp?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. We had, for instance, Masamori Kojima was student body president at Roosevelt High School, and I don't think he even stayed in camp very long. He went to a private school in Pennsylvania—one of the main line schools. And several other people got scholarships to different colleges, and we heard about them.

Ito

So that was kind of an encouraging factor?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. It showed that it was possible.

Ito

When did you graduate from—?

Kunitsugu

It was in the summer of 1944. By that time, the Student Relocation Program

was going full force, and they were sending student representatives to encourage us to go out—go to college. But by 1944, you were kind of getting used to camp life, and I had a job on the Heart Mountain Sentinel writing. So I wasn't all that enthusiastic about (chuckles) going out right away, leaving my family and everything. But I think it was Frank Inouye who kept telling me that there's no future in camp. You have to start college. So I wrote letters and tried to find a good journalism school. I think I applied to Cornell, Marquette, University of Michigan, University of Missouri, several other campuses. But they all had quotas for Japanese students. And then finally,

---

Wisconsin wrote and said that they would accept me. I needed a job, too, so they found a schoolgirl job for me with a doctor. That's how I happened to go out to Madison, Wisconsin.

Ito

What were your interactions with the Student Relocation Council?

Kunitsugu

Well, they would come to class, and they would talk to the graduating students. And then they would catch us individually and listen to what our ambitions were, and how much better it was outside and all that. They were very encouraging.

Ito

Did they help you at all with your paperwork or the financial—?

Kunitsugu

No. We had to do it more or less on our own. And in those days, student fees weren't that much. Somehow, we managed. And my living expenses, I paid for by working as a schoolgirl. And the University of Wisconsin, they didn't give me a scholarship per se, but they did forgive me the out-of-state student fee. And I think that came to $100 or $200 a year. I think it was $100 a semester.

Ito

Did you have to get some sort of clearance to leave the camps?

Kunitsugu

Um-hmm. You can get the information file on yourself from camp. And so I applied for it through the archive, and I found out that my having been in Japan was kind of a warning signal to them. But, of course, I was only 16, 17, and I was 19 when I graduated from high school. I guess it took a little while. There was a lot of sessions of talking to the people in charge of relocation.

Ito

Could you describe your feelings about leaving your family to go to college?

Kunitsugu

Well, it was very scary, because it was the first time I was on my own. When I actually left camp, there were other people going to the Midwest, so I left camp with them. We took the bus to Billings, Montana, and from there we had to then change to a train. We got there in the late morning and the train, I think, left about 4:00 P.M. So there was a little bit of time, and we all went to see a movie. And I still remember that movie with Ann Sheridan, Shine On Harvest Moon. (laughs)

Ito

Were you the first of your family to relocate or to leave the camp?

Kunitsugu

Yes.

Ito

So your brothers and sisters were still there with your family?

---

Kunitsugu

Well, they were much younger, so they were with the family.

Ito

Describe your arrival to the University of Wisconsin.

Kunitsugu

On the way, I stopped by in Minneapolis to visit my cousin, and her husband was teaching at Fort Snelling in the MISLS [Military Intelligence Service] school.

So I stayed, I think, a day or two there, and then continued to Minneapolis, and then I had to either take a bus or train—I can't even remember now—back to Madison, and a little backtracking. And I remember [that] after I got to Madison, I called Dr. Mowry's. That's the doctor's name—his house. And they told me to take a taxi. So, I looked for a taxi, and the driver was a Filipino man. He was very curious. He said, "Chinese, Japanese?" I said, "Japanese." And he said he had never really seen a Japanese person before or something (laughs), because he said, "Laugh in Japanese." I said, "Why? We laugh the same way as anybody else." (laughs)

Ito

So at this time in Madison were there several Japanese Americans?

Kunitsugu

There was a whole group of Japanese Americans—some going to the university, and some just working. There was the Toki family who had lived in Madison and around that area for some time. And then the University of Wisconsin is a very liberal college, and it had a history of welcoming underprivileged students from everywhere. So there was quite a group of us. And there was a First Baptist Church, a lady there who sort of took an interest in us, and threw parties for us about once a month so that we'd get to know each other and things like that.

Ito

So were you encouraged to socialize with the other Japanese Americans?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. And I guess we kind of sought each other out, too, just to support each other.

Ito

Now, did the university set up the schoolgirl?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. They arranged it for me. The doctor that I worked for was an allergist, and he was attached to the university hospital.

Ito

Could you describe a little bit about what your responsibilities were as a schoolgirl? Can you take us, kind of, through a day as a schoolgirl?

---

Kunitsugu

Well, mainly it was to help the woman of the family. And it was a fairly large family in that there was Dr. and Mrs. Mowry. They were pretty well along then. I would say they were in their sixties when I worked there. And their son, Bill, was in the army, of course, and he was attached to General Patton's headquarters. So his wife, Sherry Sherrard, she and her little daughter had come to the Mowry's to live with them during the war. And they also had a Mrs. Townsend who is a friend of the family. I guess she was sort of down and out, and so they took her in. And she used to do the sewing and mending and things like that. So there were quite a few of us there. And besides me, they also had another couple who helped with the cooking and some of the other stuff like that. So as a schoolgirl, my responsibility was mainly to wash dishes, wash the diapers for little Sherry without a washing machine. (laughs) They eventually did get a washing machine, but I did that. And [I] just sort of helped in general with the cleaning sometimes. They had a regular cleaning lady, but I remember I did the bathrooms sometimes and helped with the cleaning.

Ito

Then, during the day you went to school?

Kunitsugu

Um-hm.

Ito

You did this in, kind of, the odd?

Kunitsugu

During the odd hours. So that didn't leave too much time, except for weekends to relax and enjoy yourself a little bit. I think I went to one football game.

Ito

Did you have your own space in the home?

Kunitsugu

Yes. We each had a room.

Ito

And this other couple, what was their ethnicity?

Kunitsugu

They were—Charlie Justus—let's see. I guess they were from Chicago, so they could have been Polish or whatever.

Ito

Were they immigrants?

Kunitsugu

No.

Ito

And overall, they treated you well?

Kunitsugu

Oh, sure.

Ito

You were studying journalism?

---

Kunitsugu

Um-hmm.

Ito

Could you tell me a little bit about that?

Kunitsugu

Well, University of Wisconsin has a good school of journalism. In those days, it was one of the, I think, three best-known schools for journalism. Missouri was one, and I think Michigan was another, and Wisconsin. They had a separate school of journalism, and you could major in journalism, and that's what I took.

Ito

Were there other Japanese Americans majoring in journalism at that time at your school?

Kunitsugu

Hmm. Let me see. I think I was the only one in journalism. The others were more into sciences and just liberal arts.

Ito

Were you involved in any campus publications?

Kunitsugu

No. I just didn't have the time.

Ito

Were you asked to give speeches to any groups about the Japanese American experience while you were a student?

Kunitsugu

Nope.

Ito

Had you heard of anybody doing that?

Kunitsugu

No. There was very little of that.

Ito

Did you talk at all about your camp experiences with your peers or—?

Kunitsugu

Well, of course, among the Japanese Americans we all had the same experiences having been in camp for some length or another. In fact, Sue Embrey

was working in Madison at that time. So she was one of the people that I got to know in Madison. And it was just more or less a taboo subject. It was such a painful thing, that we never really dwelled on it.

Ito

Was Wisconsin one of the places that a lot of Japanese Americans were resettling to?

---

Kunitsugu

Not resettling, but it was one of the campuses that had the most Japanese Americans who were going to school at that time. I think most people preferred to settle in Chicago where jobs were easier to get.

Ito

But you said that there were some Japanese Americans in the area?

Kunitsugu

Uh-huh. Some had lived there a long time, and the Toki family was one. They were involved with the university. They taught there and everything. And some of the other girls that I knew were working as secretaries or accountants or something, but they weren't going to school.

Ito

How long did you spend at the university?

Kunitsugu

Four years.

Ito

And you graduated?

Kunitsugu

Yeah.

Ito

And during the four years at the university, what was your family doing?

Kunitsugu

Well, of course, the camps closed in '45, and they went out to Utah. I think they stayed in Provo for couple of months. I guess—enough so that my father could purchase a car, then drive it all the way back to Los Angeles. So they eventually came back to Los Angeles.

Ito

And settled in the same area?

Kunitsugu

No. There was such a housing shortage. We were renting our house before the war, so of course, we couldn't go back there. And I know my father had a hard time finding a place. Finally, there was a black woman in Watts who owned a couple of homes—I guess. One, she lived in; and then the one next door, she had relatives living there. But, of course, relatives don't pay rent, so she chased them out. And my father and our family, and another Japanese family occupied the house. They rented it. And there were two girls in that family, plus three children in ours, plus the adults. So, it was quite (chuckles) crowded. So by the time I finished college, I couldn't find a job out Wisconsin way. I came back to Los Angeles, and I stayed with my parents for a while, but everything was so crowded. I mean somebody was forever using the bathroom. So finally I moved out to the Evergreen Hostel.

Ito

Oh, can you tell me a little bit about that experience describing—?

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Kunitsugu

Well, it was almost like camp in that all we had was a bed and a little stand where we kept our personal belongings, and it was more or less the honor system for everyone. You left your belongings there, and being Japanese, we were all very honest. Nobody took anything. We never had that kind of problem. There were some house rules about what time you had to be in by and things like that. But they fed you, and it didn't cost very much to live there.

Ito

Who was running the hostel?

Kunitsugu

I think it was Union Church.

Ito

Was it at the same location as Union Church?

Kunitsugu

No. It was in Boyle Heights near the cemetery [Evergreen Cemetery], north of Brooklyn Avenue [now Cesar Chavez Avenue] on Evergreen.

Ito

What was the age range of the people who were living there?

Kunitsugu

I would say mainly in their early-twenties.

Ito

Were there families living there as well?

Kunitsugu

There probably were, probably the families that took care of the grounds and were sort of the managers, but I don't think whole families lived there. Mainly single people.

Ito

How did your family find the woman who rented them the house?

Kunitsugu

I have no idea. They were living there during the time I was going to college, already.

Ito

And then, from the hostel, where did you move to?

Kunitsugu

After the hostel, I got a job at the Crossroads. It didn't pay very much, but two of my girlfriends and I—we found an apartment on Temple Street, so we rented that.

Ito

Can you describe your position at Crossroads, and also describe the type of paper? It's a newspaper?

Kunitsugu

It was called the first Nisei Weekly. It was a weekly paper in English, and my job was mainly social news. So I covered a lot of Nisei weddings. Everyone was getting married (chuckles) in those days. I don't know how many visits I made to the Shatto Chapel of the First Congregational Church where people were always getting married, and I wrote about this

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wedding or that wedding, and went to all the dances, because being a reporter you'd get in free. (laughs)

Ito

What other features did the newspaper have?

Kunitsugu

Well, it covered the news in the Japanese American community from the Nisei point of view. So there were a lot of articles on jobs and the first Nisei doing this and that and the other. They covered the social scenes pretty completely, sports, of course. And that's how I met my husband, because he was writing part-time on sports. So we met on the Crossroads. (laughs)

Ito

When was Crossroads founded?

Kunitsugu

I think it was 1948. I came on in 1949.

Ito

And is it still in existence?

Kunitsugu

No. I left the Crossroads in mid-1950. So I was on there for only about a year, because I got pregnant, and I started raising a family. So I did write a column with my husband, but you didn't have to go in to write a column. You can just write it every week and send it in. Then, the publisher of Crossroads, in the beginning, was Bob Uno, Edison Uno's older brother. And then, he died. So, after that, Masamori Kojima took over. I worked a little bit under Masamori, and then after that, Wimp Hiroto became the editor, and he was doing that for maybe ten years or so.

Ito

Did it cover—was it kind of used as a resource for Nisei to sort of get back during this resettlement period?

Kunitsugu

Well, it sort of kept the community together in the sense that—of course the Rafu Shimpo was already publishing, too, then. It sort of reported on what was going on in the community that the big uptown papers—the general press never covered the minority communities. So that's what we did.

Ito

How would you say it distinguished itself from the Rafu Shimpo?

Kunitsugu

Probably—Well, we generally covered the same things, but I think Crossroads was more liberal. When they were trying to unionize the gardeners, I remember we were supporting at one time (chuckles) the union, rather than the gardeners, because Masamori was very liberal. And he tried to get the unions and the gardeners together, but the gardeners didn't want anything to do with the unions, and so they organized the Gardener's Federation.

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Ito

You said you met your husband while working at the Crossroads, and then got married. Then you started to have family. During that time, were you also working?

Kunitsugu

No. Off and on, I did write a column. But eventually, I got too busy. I had my first child in 1950, and then the second one in 1953. And just when I thought I would go back to writing again, I began to do a little column for Kashu Mainichi. Then, I got pregnant again. The third one was born in 1960, so I had to take time off again. I usually stayed home full-time until the kids went to school full-time. So that eventually, I guess, by the mid-'70s, I was back to working on the paper.

Ito

And during this period where were you living?

Kunitsugu

We were living in the Crenshaw area.

We didn't move out of there until 1965. We had a—not a duplex—but a double—one apartment in the front and one apartment in the back. And my in-laws were living in the back, and we were living in the front. My mother-in-law died in 1965. And so my father-in-law was the only one living in the back, and it was just kind of inconvenient, because he was eating with us and everything. So we thought it was a good time to look for a single dwelling home. So we looked around, and we moved to Mount Washington.

Ito

I want to talk a little bit about getting back a few years, comparing and contrasting the prewar versus the postwar Little Tokyo. If you can talk a little bit about that.

Kunitsugu

Well, when I started working for the Crossroads, of course, they were located on the fourth floor of what was then called the Taul Building. That was 1949. There were still a few black-operated businesses in Little Tokyo, because during the war, of course, there was no Japanese here, and the African American people were moving from the South to work in the defense industry. So they came out in droves, and they were living in Little Tokyo. It was called Bronzeville

at that time. They had nightclubs and quite a lively community going on. But I guess, as the Japanese came back and wanted to start businesses there—the owners

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of the buildings weren't Japanese. They were non-Japanese—whites, or whatever. So, that the Japanese were good tenants. They kept the place clean, they paid the rent on time and everything. So I guess they were preferable to the blacks as tenants. And as the leases ran out, the blacks moved out, and more and more Japanese came back to Little Tokyo.

Ito

And what sort of businesses sprouted in the postwar era? Anything different or a change from prewar?

Kunitsugu

I think for a while there were department stores, but they were more into selling goods that people—like CARE packages

type of things that they sold, so that people could send things to their relatives in Japan. After the war, Japan was having a hard time, and people were sending food and clothing and things like that to Japan. So these so-called department stores were more aimed to that kind of business than actually selling clothing and shoes and all that. I think after the war, it became pretty apparent that the Nisei weren't going to stay in Little Tokyo. And then of course, with the Civil Rights Movement and all that, you could pretty much find housing anywhere that you could afford, instead of having to just settle for something in Little Tokyo or a clump of a ghetto in Southwest Los Angeles or uptown area. And so, the character of Little Tokyo was different.

Also, before the war, the whole Japanese American economy made the rounds of like—There were farmers; and the farmers sold their goods to the middleman. The middlemen were the ones that operated the produce wholesale market, and then they sold to the small groceries, the retail stores. Of course, after the war, the supermarkets were more in place, and the little mom-and-pops stores were going. And also, the farmers were no longer the force that they were before the war. Before the war, about 75 percent of all the produce that was produced in California was by Japanese Americans, but after the war all that changed. So there was this—

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Kunitsugu

—market. So that the tendency was—and, of course, it was getting to be the era of the Nisei, and they tended to go into white-collar jobs. They didn't want to continue the little mom-and-pop stores that their parents had—restaurants and things in Little Tokyo. So the character of Little

---

Tokyo changed from a place where people lived and worked, to a place where it was just a business place. People didn't live here anymore.

Ito

Why did you think there's a switch or a demographic change to Japanese Americans moving into the Crenshaw area, and could you describe a little bit about the Crenshaw area in the late forties and fifties?

Kunitsugu

It was a one step up, shall we say, from living in the ghetto that you could buy a real house and live in it. The Crenshaw area was just developing. There were apartments, of course, but single families [single family dwellings] that the whites were moving out of were sold to Japanese. The Japanese just sort of moved in wholesale in the Crenshaw area. At one time, Crenshaw Square was like the second Little Tokyo. All the stores and professional men in that were Japanese. They used to have—what's Miss Nikkei Pageant now started out as a Miss Teen Sansei,

and it was like a rivalry between Little Tokyo and Crenshaw. But then, there was another big movement out of the Crenshaw area to Gardena, Monterey Park, and Orange County, eventually. So there was a lot of population movement.

Ito

And do you think that was another step up, possibly?

Kunitsugu

I think so. People were making better pay, and they could afford to buy better homes. The homes in the Crenshaw area that the Japanese bought were usually second-hand. I mean to say someone had already lived there. They weren't new homes. But then, they were looking for new homes after that. So every move was a step up.

Ito

When did you start working again? You said that you had been writing some columns while—

Kunitsugu

I started out to write a column called "Carousel" in Kashu Mainichi, I think, about the late-sixties. Of course, my son didn't go to school full-time until '67. So, around about that time, I started to put in more hours at the Kashu Mainichi. But I always came home before 3:00 P.M.,

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and I had to drive and pick up the kids from this school and that school. I was doing a lot of driving (chuckles) in those days.

Ito

What types of values did you try to instill in your children?

Kunitsugu

I think we didn't do anything conscious in that we were always telling them to study hard or things like that. But without saying so in so many words, our own values sort of by osmosis got, I think, transferred to the kids, and they knew that we didn't stand for any nonsense. Of course, we took them to all the—like the Museum of Science and Industry, and Disneyland, and Santa Monica, and all the places that parents usually take kids to. We didn't make it a point that they should know more about their Japanese background. We did try to start the kids in Japanese language school, but at that time the Japanese language schools were geared towards kids with Japanese-speaking parents. And, of course, we didn't speak Japanese at home. So, that was pretty apparent after about half-a-year, and our kids were being left behind in the Japanese school. And that was beginning to influence their attitude in public school, so we took them out.

Ito

Did you talk about the camps?

Kunitsugu

Never. Never. (chuckles) It was just a topic we avoided because, I guess, psychologically, it was such a pain, that we didn't even want to remember.

Ito

Did this change with the redress?

Kunitsugu

It did, uh-huh. That made a big difference.

Ito

What was your reaction to the Redress Movement?

Kunitsugu

Well, in the beginning we felt that the Sansei who were active in that movement were really tackling an impossible job. We didn't think it would happen, because for the Nisei experience, we just had an up-hill battle all the time against discrimination. In fact, my husband when he took the test to work for the city as an engineer, he placed 11^th on a list of about 60 people who took the test, and he was one of the last to be hired. So, the ceiling—it wasn't even a glass ceiling. It was pretty apparent that you weren't wanted in a lot of places yet.

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So, for Nisei, it was really a hard struggle to find the kinds of jobs you wanted, the kind of work you wanted to do. Of course, more opportunities were opening up after the war, because before the war, you could go to the university and take—get a teacher's degree and find no school wanted to hire you. Same for people who were in the medical profession, or pharmacy, or any of the professions had a hard time getting into the schools to get trained. And then after they're trained, to find a place where they could practice, there was just usually in the Japanese community is about all.

Ito

Did you have any apprehensions about coming back to the West Coast and to Los Angeles?

Kunitsugu

By the time I came home, it was pretty well established that the war was over. The attitudes that prevailed, and really prevailed before the war, were you felt that everyone was against you except for school where people were more open-minded and tolerant, and, of course, the teachers talked about democracy and everything. So the school was different. Once you step outside of school, you go to—say, the Four Star Theater, you want to see Young Mister Lincoln, and you could only sit in the balcony. You go into just any old restaurant, and sometimes the waitresses wouldn't serve you. They don't tell you to get out; they just never came around to take your order. Probably the only places that you felt comfortable were places like Clifton's.

The only experience I had going to Clifton's was with my Sunday schoolteacher. (laughs)

Ito

When was it that you started working here at the JACCC [Japanese American Cultural and Community Center]?

Kunitsugu

In 1975. Before that until 1973, I was working at the Kashu Mainichi as the English section editor. Then, one day I wrote an article that Yo Takagaki of Crenshaw Square thought was libelous to him, so he threatened to sue the publisher. So I went to Bob Takasugi and asked him if what I wrote was libelous. And he said, "Is it the truth?" And I says, "Yeah. It is. It's just that Yo doesn't like it." And he said, "Well, let him sue, because he hasn't got a leg to stand on." But the publisher of the Kashu Mainichi, Hiro Hishiki didn't support me. And he published an apology to Yo, so I quit. Maybe after about six months, I went to work for Horikawa, the restaurant. I was Mike Horikawa's secretary for a year and a half. And, of course, while I working at Horikawa, I was down in

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Little Tokyo, and I got involved in the Little Tokyo Business Association, Nisei Week, and things like that. And of course, I was volunteering for the people who were trying to build the cultural center. And the first executive secretary was a schoolteacher. And they were doing the kick-off dinner, and she (chuckles) had a hard time. For one thing, because most of the people who were trying to raise money at that time were Japanese-speaking, and she wasn't. So when she left to go back to teaching, she asked me if I wanted to apply for her job. I said, "Yeah. It sounds like a pretty good job." And they were willing to pay me what I was making at Horikawa. I already knew some of the people like Torii-san through Nisei Week and Little Tokyo Business Association and everything. So I got the job, and I've been working since for JACCC.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about your involvement in the Nisei Democrats?

Kunitsugu

Well, I think my husband was more involved, because during that time I was busy raising kids anyway. But we were both members, and a lot of times the membership meeting was held at our home. And then, they were publishing newsletters and things, and I would help out with the writing and so on. So we got involved in some of the political action. In those days they had—what's called—the Democratic clubs with Adlai Stevenson encouraging the young Democrats to form clubs. So my husband was quite active in that.

Ito

What sorts of issues were you tackling, then?

Kunitsugu

Mainly trying to elect certain officials like Ed Roybal when he ran for lieutenant governor. We helped his campaign. George Thomas when he ran for—was it city council? Whatever. He was one of the early black candidates for office. We supported him. And generally things like that—helping certain candidates.

Ito

Because you were an ethnic-specific organized club, did you talk at all about the issues around the Japanese American community?

Kunitsugu

No. Mainly what we tried to do was register people to vote, and found it a real uphill battle. People didn't want to register to vote, because they said they would then be open to jury duty. That was how they selected juries in those days. Now, I think, if you have a driver's license, you're eligible. But in those days it was if you were listed among the voters, then you got called. So a lot of Nisei just didn't even want to do that. We had a hard time registering people to vote. We didn't specifically

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concentrate on Japanese Americans' civil liberties and civil rights. Of course, the '50s were notorious for the McCarthy Era, and anything that smacked of liberalism was red, pink, whatever. It was a lot of persecution going on. We didn't want anymore of that then, than we had to. (laughs)

Ito

Do you think that maybe the Nisei didn't want to register also because of remnants of the concentration camp at all? Do you think, maybe, that had something to do with it as well?

Kunitsugu

Probably. They just didn't want anything political. I guess it just reminded them of the political motives behind a lot of what happened to them, so they just didn't want anything to do with it—let alone fight for their rights. (laughs)

Ito

We're coming to the conclusion of the interview. Is there anything that I haven't asked you that you'd like to include in the interview?

Kunitsugu

Well, I think I really hand it to the Sansei activists that didn't let what happened in the past bother them. Of course, they didn't experience it, so they didn't have the first-hand experience of discrimination. But still, it took a lot of courage and a lot of really hard fighting of trying to raise funds and going to Washington and talking to people and all that. And to have done all that is a real accomplishment. And I really admire the people who did that.

Ito

Thank you.

End of interview

Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka

• Interviewee:
•     Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka
• Interviewer:
•     Leslie Ito
• Date:
•     November 2, 1997

Biography

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Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka

	"...I went to Chicago to join
	four other girls that I knew when
	we were kids in Los Angeles.
	We lived in an old brownstone
	converted house....So we lived
	in this house. We had five of us
	in one room and kitchen
	privileges....We lived on the
	South Side....we worked in a
	defense factory. We were
	Rosie the Riveters."

Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka, the youngest of seven children, was born in Los Angeles. Her father emigrated from Fukuoka, Japan, in 1902; her mother was a picture bride from Osaka, Japan. Her older siblings were born in Colorado, where her father worked as a farmer. The family moved to Los Angeles in 1925. Marion Funakoshi was in the fifth grade when the family moved to Santa Ana, where they opened a flower shop and nursery. The Funakoshi family was very active in the Centenary United Methodist Church.

After the U.S. entered World War II, they were forcibly removed with the church group to Santa Anita Assembly Center. Eventually, they were sent to Poston concentration camp in Arizona, where Marion met her husband-to-be. Her family left Poston after a year to join a relative who had a farm in Colorado. The family worked in Fort Lupton, Englewood, and Denver. Her parents and sister took domestic work. Later her father worked for the stockyard while her mother did housekeeping at a hotel.

Marion Funakoshi was in the tenth grade when Pearl Harbor was bombed, and consequently she finished high school after her family moved to Colorado. Shortly thereafter, when she was seventeen years old, she went to Chicago to join four friends from Los Angeles. She stayed there for eight months, making parachute buckles at a defense factory.

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In 1945 she returned to Colorado and married on September 23, 1945. She and her husband then joined his family in Monterey, California where he fished while she worked in a cannery. The moved to the Crenshaw area of Los Angeles when her husband accepted a job as cook on a boat in San Pedro. When they bought a triplex on Bronson Street, her parents and her sister's family moved in with them. Her husband eventually left the fishing industry and worked for Marion's brother in the insurance business.

After living on Bronson Street for seven years, the Manakas bought a home on Wellington Road, also in the Crenshaw area. They remained there for 21 years. In 1979, they moved to Northridge after their children, Barbara and Timothy were grown. The Manakas lived there for seven years before returning, again, to Los Angeles.

Interview

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Marion (Funakoshi) Manaka recounts her family's prewar experiences in Los Angeles and Santa Ana, her family's incarceration in Poston, and their resettlement in Colorado and then Los Angeles. She also discusses how she went to Chicago when she was 17 years old to work in a defense factory, her return to Los Angeles, and starting her own family. In addition, she provides a description of the Japanese American community in the Crenshaw area and her family's involvement in the Centenary United Methodist Church. Leslie Ito conducted this interview on November 2, 1997, in Pasadena, California.

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Ito

Marion Manaka interview on November 2, 1997 at 1:15 P.M., in the afternoon in Pasadena,

California. Can you state your name, your birthdate, and where you were born? Tell me a little bit about your childhood and where you grew up.

Manaka

Well, my name is Marion Manaka. My maiden name is Funakoshi. I was born September 16, 1926 in Los Angeles on 36^th and Western. I lived in the neighborhood where there were a lot of Japanese American families, and I have fond memories of my childhood playing with all the neighborhood children. I went to grammar school at 36^th Street School and 37^th Street School.

Ito

Were you born in a Japanese American hospital or at home?

Manaka

No. I was born at home. The midwife's name was Mrs. Asano.

Ito

Was she a family friend?

Manaka

No. It was her profession.

Ito

Could you tell me a little bit about the background of your family, your parents, how many brothers and sisters you have, some of your family dynamics, and what your birth order is?

Manaka

My father is from Fukuoka, Japan, and my mother is from Osaka, Japan. My mother was a picture bride, and she came to Seattle. They were married in Seattle. I'm the last of seven children.

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My brother is Willie Funakoshi, and next is Iris Funakoshi Misumi, then Nellie Williams, then Gladys Funakoshi Nishimura, then Margaret Masaoka, and then me. I'm the youngest of the seven children. In between Gladys and Margaret, we had another sister named Daisey that passed away of influenza epidemic that they had in Colorado.

Ito

What year did your father emigrate, and [when did] your mother come over?

Manaka

I think it was April 4, 1902.

Ito

And he came in through—?

Manaka

I think it was Seattle? No. He came to San Francisco. My mother came through Seattle.

Ito

Were all of your brothers and sisters born in Los Angeles?

Manaka

No. After my mother and father got married, then they—actually, my father was in the San Francisco earthquake, and then he went to Colorado to do farming. And then, my mother went to Colorado. So all my siblings were born in Colorado except me.

When my brother Willie graduated high school, they all came to Los Angeles. Then, I was born. I was the only one born in California after they came here. So there is a 19-year difference between Willie and myself.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about your childhood, and then from the elementary school where you went on to school?

Manaka

Our family was very active at church. It was called M.E. Church at that time, now it's Centenary United Methodist. But, of my childhood, I just remembered my mother always being at church with all the rest of the ladies in the neighborhood, and we were more or less (chuckles) grown up chasing around at the church. That was actually their only social activity.

But my father and mother, and all of the family were very active there. In fact, I was born the year after M.E. Church was built in 1925, I think. I was born in 1926. So my childhood memory is just based all around the church. We were all very close.

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When I was in the fifth grade, we moved to Santa Ana. My mother, father, Margaret, and Gladys, and I. They had a flower shop near West Lake Park, MacArthur Park now. Because there was a very, very severe winter, the business was bad. So they had to move to Santa Ana to start a flower shop and a nursery through the help of Mr. and Mrs. Nitta of Santa Ana. I went to grammar school there one year, and then junior high school. Then, when I was in the tenth grade, the war [World War II] broke out, and then we had to evacuate.

Ito

Do you remember the day that Pearl Harbor?

Manaka

Pearl Harbor Day? Yes. It was on a Sunday at noon, and we were all outside at the nursery flower shop working when we got the news in which we were very shocked. Ironically, when we had to evacuate after having a closing out sale, my father donated whatever was leftover to the army. So the army trucks came and picked up all the leftover plants.

Ito

Could you briefly talk about your time in camp?

Where, and what assembly center you went to?

Manaka

Since we moved to Santa Ana from Los Angeles, my parents wanted to go to camp with the people from church. So we packed up our car, and we moved back to Los Angeles and stayed at the church house just for a few days.

My brother Willie, Margaret, my father and I went to Santa Anita Assembly Center with the church group. But, while we were there, my sister Nellie was already in Poston, Arizona.

By one street,

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Whittier Boulevard, she was separated from my other sister, Iris, so she was in Poston.

My parents had very strong feelings of trying to keep the family together, because in wartime we never knew what was going to happen, and how long it will be that we'll be back together again. So we volunteered and went to Poston, Arizona. We were all there, except for my sister Gladys and Tad Nishimura. They were in Heart Mountain.

We were in Poston, Arizona. We only stayed there for one year, and then we went to Colorado.

Ito

So, you went to high school in the camp?

Manaka

Uh-huh. I went to high school in camp. And then, I finished my high school after we relocated to Colorado.

Ito

What year was that? Do you remember the month and year that you left camp?

Manaka

I think it was July 8, 1943.

Ito

Did your father take care of all the paperwork, and—?

Manaka

Um-hm. We were able to leave camp because he had a nephew who was a native of Colorado that sponsored him. So that's why we were able to leave camp, and then we went to his farm in Fort Lupton, Colorado. We stayed there shortly, and then from there we went to—

My mother and father took a job as domestics in Englewood, Colorado where they did domestic [work]. My sister Margaret went with us, and she went [to do] domestic [work] with another family.

The man that we worked for, Mr. William Hunter Fergurson, was the president of CONOCO, Continental Oil Company. He took me into Denver every day on his way to his office from where we lived in Englewood so I could attend Manuel High School there. After a while, then I transferred to Englewood High School where I graduated.

Ito

Do you know where your family found the work? How they got them?

Manaka

No. I don't remember how they found the work.

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Ito

So, at that point when you left—when you and your two sisters—one sister left for Colorado, where did the rest of the family go?

Manaka

My brother was in Denver, and my two sisters with their families came back to Denver. Since they were born in Colorado, it was more like homecoming for them. (chuckles) I mean they were young when they left, but still they had a little attachment. So the whole family was in Denver.

Ito

And everybody left around the same time?

Manaka

Yes. We left a little bit before my sisters and their families left. Then, my brother, Willie was in Chicago. My sister, Gladys, that was in Heart Mountain, she and Tad relocated to Chicago. My sister, Margaret, got married, and then her husband, Dave, was in the service. So, she and his family were in Chicago. She was living in Chicago, too. So, at one time there were quite a few of them living in Chicago.

Ito

So, getting back to when you left camp, do you remember that day?

Manaka

Yes. I remember that day. (chuckles) We caught a bus, and from Poston we went to Parker, Arizona. Then from Parker we caught a bus and went to Lamar, Colorado. That's where Amache [concentration camp]

and the people from the church that we were supposed to go to camp with. Hadn't my sister called us—They were in Amache. So, then we stopped there and we visited them. It was just a nice visit after seeing old friends again.

Ito

What were your feelings about leaving camp, do you remember?

Manaka

Well, naturally we were just happy to leave after being confined (chuckles), but it was hard to leave our friends, old friends and new friends that we made.

Ito

Were you or your parents nervous about leaving the camp?

Manaka

No. My father was a very adventurous type of a person. So when he came from Colorado to Los Angeles on this old car with five children and themselves in 1925, he had to be pretty adventurous to make a

---

trip like that. (chuckles) He planned ahead and talked to everyone that had come across the Rocky Mountains. He was quite adventurous. To him it was just something, I guess, he felt that he would do to get out of camp and better himself and the family.

Ito

Then you finished high school in Colorado, and then?

Manaka

Yes. Then, my mother, my father and I, after leaving Englewood domestic, moved back to Denver. My father went to work at the stockyards, and my mother worked at Owens Hotel, housekeeping. I helped a little during the summer.

Then, I went to Chicago to join four other girls that I knew when we were kids in Los Angeles. We lived in an old brownstone converted house. During wartime, a lot of people converted their homes into apartments not only to help with the housing shortage, but it was a way of some income for them. So we lived in this house. We had five of us in one room and kitchen privileges.

We went to work from—We lived on the South Side.

So we went to work to the Loop. We took either the "el," the elevated [train], or the "IC", the Illinois Central, and we went to work. It was the Monarch Bicycle Company. Because of the wartime, they didn't make bicycles anymore, and they made parachute buckles. So we worked in a defense factory. We were Rosie the Riveters. (chuckles) Since we worked with the group of girls we enjoyed it.

Ito

How old were you at the time?

Manaka

17.

---

Ito

What made you go [to Chicago]?

Manaka

Well, my brother and my sister were there. Their families were there, so it was easy for my parents to allow me (chuckles) to go there and join my friends.

Ito

Were there any discussion over where you were going? Did they not want you to go?

Manaka

No. They didn't—I asked them. They were agreeable.

Ito

What kind of plans did you have to do in order to go?

Manaka

To go?

Ito

How did you get there?

Manaka

It was still during the war, but we had to get permits to go out of your certain zone, and then, I went by train. I think the train from Colorado, Denver to Chicago (chuckles) was called the Zephyr.

Ito

[Did you go] by yourself?

Manaka

Yeah. I went by myself.

Ito

Do you remember that trip?

Manaka

Mm—slightly. It was a long trip. Then, my mother and father went—not while I was there, but they also made a trip on the train to go see my brother and my other sister.

Ito

How come they decided to stay and not go with the rest of the family?

Manaka

Well, they lived in Denver before. My father had a boarding house when the kids were young. This is before they went to California. He had different types of work there. So it was really like home to them, because they had a lot of relatives that were born there and stayed there, that didn't relocate to California. So, to them, it was like going home.

Ito

Your plans to go to Chicago, was that just sort of temporary plans, or did you have the intentions of staying?

Manaka

Oh no. It was just temporary. I knew I would be there only for a short while.

---

Ito

You mentioned the Loop? Where is that?

Manaka

Oh. The Loop is what we would call downtown. We worked in the Loop, and we always walked by Michigan Avenue, which is one of the most famous . . . like Rodeo Drive would be in Beverly Hills. We would walk from whatever transportation . . . . If we took the "el," the elevated [train] then we would have to walk by Michigan Boulevard to get to our work.

Two years ago, my husband and I celebrated our 50^th anniversary. So we took a trip, a sentimental journey. (chuckles) We went back to where we both were 50 years [ago]. I was in Chicago 50 years ago, so we went to Chicago.

My husband was in Minneapolis, so then we went to Minneapolis. But it kind of struck me funny when we were in Chicago, because we stayed at this nice hotel on Michigan Boulevard, which fifty years ago I would never have dreamt that we could stay in a hotel like that. So I thought, "Well, time marches on." (chuckles)

Ito

Tell me more about your living situation.

Manaka

In Chicago?

Ito

Um-hm.

Manaka

Well, it was with the five girls. We were 17 and 18 years old, so there wasn't too much that we could do for our social life. But after work we did go to movies. There was a Japanese American dance that they had, and I remember going to one dance. But the biggest pleasure we had, was after work. We were in downtown right there in the Loop, and on State Street there was a State Street Theatre. That's where we would go after work, and we saw Frank Sinatra there.

They were called stage shows at that time, but it was actually live performance. So we saw Frank Sinatra and this little colored boy that was tap-dancing and singing with his father and his uncle who is now Sammy Davis, Jr., and Gene Krupa, the drummer. So we used to go and see those performers. Actually, there wasn't that much in the social life for us, because we were young. There wasn't too much to do for us.

Ito

How did you find your housing, and was it housing that was predominantly Japanese American?

---

Manaka

No. It was on the South Side. There weren't too many Japanese Americans. Not even in this building, we were living in. But I was fortunate, because I just joined the girls that were there. So I didn't have to look for the apartment. I think about it now, and I wonder how it happened, but I just joined them. I really don't know what they had to do. That was a good question, because I really didn't even think too much how they got the place. I was just lucky. I just joined them.

Ito

Tell me a little bit about your work—where you worked, and how you found the job.

Manaka

The girls, like before—I just really came in at the tail end, and we worked there. I had been in Chicago at another time after I got married. But we worked for Al Doi. He had a toy making—There were toys made out of paper, because it was wartime. There was a lot of Japanese Americans that worked for him. He was on Michigan Avenue. I don't know how the girls got the job when we worked in the defense factory.

Ito

In the defense factory, was it mostly Japanese Americans then?

Manaka

No. They were mostly Caucasians. But it seems word by mouth; people would know where there was a job, so—

Ito

And what was it? Was it mostly women or men?

Manaka

Mostly women working. Uh-huh.

Ito

And what kind of work?

Manaka

We made the parachute buckles, and then we just drilled on the machine the holes in the buckles.

Ito

Was it like an assembly line?

Manaka

No. It might have been an assembly line, but we just did one certain thing ourselves. So we didn't even know what else went on the buckles, or what else it involved.

Ito

What kind of wages were you making?

Manaka

I can't even remember now. (laughs)

Ito

When did you meet your husband?

---

Manaka

I met my husband when I was in camp. He was in Poston, Camp III, and I was in Camp I. Then he moved out to Denver, and then we moved to Denver. So I saw him and got reacquainted with him in Denver. After I left Chicago, I visited my sister Margaret and her husband, because he was at Fort Snelling [Minnesota]. Then, I went back to Denver. Then, we got married in September 23, 1945.

Ito

How long were you in Chicago for?

Manaka

I was only there about eight months, I think.

Ito

Then you went to visit your sister?

Manaka

My sister, on the way home. Uh-huh.

Ito

Then back to Colorado.

Manaka

Back to Colorado. Um-hm.

Ito

When did he proposed to you?

Manaka

I think he proposed to me (chuckles), right before I left for Chicago. When I came back, we decided to get married. Then, we got married in Denver. We went on a honeymoon to Colorado Springs, and then within a few days we drove back to—oh, the war had just ended. So we were able to travel freely. We drove back to Monterey

[California], to his hometown, with his father Archie and Yoshiko Miyamoto, and their daughter Janice. There were five of us that drove back to California.

Ito

But his family was in Colorado, at that point?

Manaka

No. Right before that, his family went back to Monterey. Then his father came to Denver to attend our wedding.

Ito

So you drove back to Monterey?

Manaka

Um-hm.

Ito

You lived with his family?

Manaka

We lived with his family. There was a big house. It must have been about three or four families living there, because of the housing

---

shortage, and until everyone could get back on their feet. Everybody was just happy to help each other until they could find a place.

Ito

What was your father-in-law's livelihood?

Manaka

He was a commercial fisherman. He was a fisherman in Wakayama, Japan, and [then later] in Monterey.

Ito

After the war he was—?

Manaka

Um-hm. He had a little boat, and he was fishing in Monterey.

Ito

At that point, what were you doing?

Manaka

After we came back, we were in Monterey. My husband was fishing on his brother-in-law Ken Sato's boat, Windward. They fished around Monterey Bay and even up as far as Astoria, Oregon. I worked in the fish cannery, sardine factory at that time with my sister-in-laws, Emma Sato and Mary Shiba. We all lived together, and we all went to work.

Each factory had its own whistle. So we'd be in town, and then we hear a whistle blow. Then, we know that the fishermen caught fish. So we had to stop and listen for the signal, and then we'd run home and get our boots and our apron. It was very close, so we'd walk to the cannery from the house.

Ito

So there's a certain time period that went from the ringing that you were supposed to report to them?

Manaka

I think you're supposed to get there as fast as you can, because that meant that the fish was already—they had these hoppers out in the ocean, and the fishermen would just put it in there. So we had to get to the cannery as soon as possible. That was quite an experience.

Ito

Can you describe that?

Manaka

Well, (laughs) let's see. I didn't work in the cutting department. That was for the more advanced people. They laid the fish on the cutter, and it cuts the head and the tail off. I was just working there as a packer. We'd just grab the fish. They were in oval cans, or the tall cans. We used to pack the sardines in there. So it just runs along like a conveyor belt.

Ito

Was it piece work?

---

Manaka

No. Not the packing. What we did wasn't piecework, but the cutting was piecework.

Ito

How did you find that job?

Manaka

The whole family, everybody worked there. So it was just kind of nice.

Ito

Were the rest of workers Japanese Americans?

Manaka

Yes. Most of them, and some Italians. But the particular place where I worked were all Japanese, a lot of Issei ladies.

Ito

Who owned the company?

Manaka

I don't know. The Monterey Canning is the one I worked for. Today, I think, it's where the Aquarium is.

Ito

So it wasn't a Japanese American owner?

Manaka

No. It was a—

Ito

A white owner.

Manaka

Um-hm.

Ito

So your husband would be away fishing?

Manaka

Not for long. If they went to Astoria, Oregon, they were away for a while. But the fishing in Monterey was pretty much local. So they would come home, not like when he was fishing in San Pedro later. We moved to Los Angeles, because he got an offer as a cook on Ben and George Fukuzaki's boat, Nancy Rose. His [husband's] younger brother, Rookie, was on the same boat. So we moved to Los Angeles.

Ito

What year was that?

Manaka

1946 or '47. On that boat they were gone for a length of time, because that was tuna fishing in Mexico. They were gone any time up to a month. And they fished out of Terminal Island.

Ito

At that point, when you moved from Monterey to Los Angeles, where did you live?

Manaka

We lived on Jefferson near Sixth Avenue and Jefferson above Nagai's Cleaners. That's where our daughter Barbara was born. We lived

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with my sister Gladys, and Tad Nishimura, and their son Dennis Nishimura. They had come back from Chicago.

Ito

They were already living there?

Manaka

Yes. Uh-huh. We lived there with them, and then we bought a triplex on Bronson, Jefferson and Bronson. It was after we moved there, that our son Timmy Manaka was born.

Ito

This is all in the Crenshaw area?

Manaka

Yes. All in the Crenshaw. Well, that was like on Jefferson. We lived in this triplex. My mother and father lived in the front unit, then Gladys and Tad lived in the next one, and then we lived in the rear. When Timmy was five years old we bought a place in the Crenshaw area on Wellington Road. So the children went to grammar school at Coliseum Grammar Street School, and they both went to Audobon Junior High School, and Dorsey High.

Ito

Just backtracking a little bit. When you lived above the cleaners, it was a predominantly Japanese American community there?

Manaka

Yes. It was. There was quite a few [Japanese Americans] on Jefferson. From Arlington to about Crenshaw, there was a mixed neighborhood, but there were a lot of Japanese Americans in that area, and Issei people that lived there.

Ito

At that point, what were you doing? Your husband was fishing?

Manaka

He was fishing, and I stayed at home with the children. Then when Timmy was born, he quit fishing and went into produce with my brother-in-law Tad Nishimura on Miracle Mile.

Then, he sold cookware. Then, he worked for my brother, Willie Funakoshi, in insurance. So it's been about 47 years or so since he's been working there.

Ito

When you lived above the cleaners, were you renting?

---

Manaka

Yes. We were renting.

Ito

And then your next move was—?

Manaka

Went to Bronson and we bought—that was our first home that we bought. Then, when we went to Wellington Road. We were there for about 21 years before we moved to Northridge.

Ito

How was it like in the triplex living with—?

Manaka

The family? Oh. We had a lot of fun. Well, we took care of our parents that were in the front, because our mother was bed-ridden. On Bronson, almost every structure was a triplex, four apartments, duplex, or something. So there were that many more Japanese (chuckles) families that were living there.

For the kids, it was really a lot of fun, because they had so many playmates. They grew up with all—In fact, I don't know why, but that one particular block was all full of children. So growing up, the children had a lot fun playing with each other there. They were very close.

Ito

What about yourself? You had a close network?

Manaka

When we were in that neighborhood, it was nothing social. It was just sort of between the parents and the children. But it was after we moved to the Crenshaw area that I got involved. And then we were always close to the church. I was in the Women's Club at church just for a short while. But other than that, Barbara was in the Pixies at Centenary Church, a girl's club. Later, she was an advisor for some girls club.

Then, they had a Japanese American social club at Dorsey. Then, my husband and Timmy belonged to the very active Indian Guides Y [YMCA], the Y program at church, which was affiliated with the Crenshaw Y. That was a father and son club. Everything was really positive about that. Those that belonged to it, now we look back on how much it meant to them, and they were very—looking at them now as adults, we feel that Y group was really the best thing for them.

Ito

It was all—?

---

Manaka

All Japanese, uh-hm. From the one at Centenary—then, they had the Y program, which was a lot of Caucasian people there. So they were close together.

Ito

I'm just curious. Did you feel during this period, there was a division between Japanese Americans Buddhists and the Christians?

Manaka

Not so much. I think when we were little, we felt that more than after the war. I guess, because it was the Issei. They felt that way more than what we did. But after the war, then it just—I don't think we felt the division of being Buddhist or Christian.

Ito

So you socialized and your children socialized with Japanese Americans that were Buddhists and Christians?

Manaka

Yes. Uh-huh. We did.

Ito

Did you participate in any of the Buddhist obon

or anything?

Manaka

No. Unh-uh.

Ito

How many years did you live at the Bronson house? Was that the triplex?

Manaka

That was the triplex. I guess we lived there maybe seven years.

Ito

You said that your parents were living there, and you took care of your mother?

Manaka

Um-hm. My mother and father lived in the first unit. Since she was bedridden, between me, my sister Gladys who also lived there, and my family, we took care of the parents. My sister Gladys and I cooked for them. It's very convenient because we're in the same building.

Ito

Can you remember any momentous occasions that happened at Bronson?

Manaka

At Bronson? Oh. Nothing spectacular. (laughs)

Ito

Do you remember when you got your first TV?

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Manaka

Uh-huh. We got our first TV when we were there. It was a big Stromberg Carlson TV. I don't think they even make those anymore. It was black lacquer with a Chinese style. It had green double doors with Chinese scenery in gold. It also had 45 RPM record player and a radio. It was our first TV, so that was quite exciting.

Ito

Did somebody go out and purchase it?

Manaka

Um-hm. We went and picked it out.

Ito

Was it for the whole family or just for—?

Manaka

No. Just for us. But not too many people had TVs in those days. (chuckles) So when you had a TV, people would come over to see it. I guess it would be like if someone had a giant screen in their house today. Most people don't have it, so you'll go to someone's house. You invite them to come and see it. So people used to come to our house to watch TV.

Ito

What kind of shows do you remember watching?

Manaka

Oh. Well, I know my mother's favorite was wrestling. (chuckles) We used to tell her it was rigged, but she wouldn't believe it. The Disney was on at that time. "Mickey Mouse Club" was on, and Mouseketeers. And there was sort of a talk show—not a talk show, but there was a show, "Peter Potter." Betty White had a show at that time, too. And of course, "Howdy Doody." The kids liked that. And there was one, "Sheriff John," and "Engineer Bill," the "Red Light and Green Light."

Ito

So your children pretty much grew up watching—?

Manaka

Uh-huh. Watching those TV shows.

Ito

Did you limit that?

Manaka

No. I think they watched (chuckles) whatever they wanted to watch.

Ito

When you were raising your children, did you emphasize the Japanese culture at all?

Manaka

Well, I think we were always so Japanese culture-oriented with the culture and then the food. They always ate Japanese food. So I would say that we raised them that way.

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Ito

And with the church activities, and the schools that they attended, were they mostly—?

Manaka

They were mixed. But church was not as Japanese-oriented so much. It was just within the home that we—I guess with having parents—grandparents living close by, too, we tend to be eating more Japanese food. And of course, with the Nisei Week

[Festival] and all of that. They participated in what they could in that.

Ito

Can you talk more about the children's church groups, and what their function was?

Manaka

Like in Barbara's—?

Ito

Um-hm.

Manaka

They had a lot of age group clubs at Centenary Church. The girls had cooking classes and different activities, and the mothers were involved with the girls, too. Then, as Barbara was in high school, she and some friends were leaders of girls [groups] that were younger than them.

Ito

So they developed friendships?

Manaka

Yes. Friendships and—then, within all the different clubs, they get together and have one big activity, or they would participate in church cookie drives, and things like that.

Ito

So was it mostly church-centered? Was it mostly a religious club, or—?

Manaka

They didn't—not too much stressing that. But of course, being that it's from the church, it is religious. But they had different activities that they participated in.

Ito

Were they more like American-youth-culture kind of activities?

Manaka

Yes.

Ito

Did they also do sort of Japanese kinds of activities?

Manaka

Not too much.

---

Ito

What kind of activities did they participate in?

Manaka

They used to have the club meetings. Then, they would have cookie sales and they bake. I know this one leader taught them how to make meatloaf. It was sort of everyday things that they learned.

Ito

So when did you then make that move to Crenshaw?

Manaka

When Timmy was five years old. So, that was in 1965.

Ito

And at that point, what made you move into the Crenshaw area?

Manaka

We needed a bigger house, because the four of us were sleeping in one room in that triplex that we had. So we found this bigger home in Crenshaw area. Then my mother had passed away where she was living at the triplex. Then my father went to live with my brother.

Later, he came to live with us. So we added another room on to our house. We were there while Barbara and Timmy, both went to grammar, junior high, and high school. After Barbara got married, she then went to Japan to live with her husband Phillip who was in the service. Timmy was going to Cal State [California State University, Los Angeles]. Then, we moved to Northridge in 1979.

Ito

When you left to go to Crenshaw, did you sell the triplex? Where did the rest of the family go?

Manaka

Um-hm. We sold it.

---

Manaka

Since my mother passed away, my sister Gladys, and Tad, and Dennis bought a house on Therman around Washington. That was the three of us [families] that lived there [at the triplex on Bronson]. So we left that area.

Ito

What kind of place was Crenshaw when you moved there?

Manaka

Well, it was—I would say from Crenshaw to Dorsey High, and from Exposition to Santa Barbara, which is now Martin Luther King Boulevard, there's a lot of Japanese people, and most of them had young children. So it was a real nice area where the children grew up. They all went to the same school. It was very close-knit group there.

---

In fact, while they were at school us mothers would have coffee at each other's house. And about 34 years later, we are still meeting. There's 11 of us and we still meet, at least six times a year. We have luncheon for each other's birthdays. So we still get together after all these years.

Ito

How did the group form? How did it start?

Manaka

Because while the children were in school, we'd have coffee at each other's house. Then it kind of dwindled off after the children started growing up. Everybody went to work. And now after they've all retired, we're back together again enjoying each other's company.

Ito

What kind of things did you talk about when you were having coffee as mothers?

Manaka

Oh, usually the kids, or the husbands. (laughs) Just chit chat. It was nothing deep like philosophy or anything like that. We just enjoyed each other's company. But it had to be something deeply rooted, because we're still together now. (chuckles)

Ito

So, these "coffee girls," were they all housewives and mothers?

Manaka

Yes. They were all housewives staying home at that time. Then, as the children got older, all of us went to work. Now they're all retired, all grandmothers.

Ito

You all have children within the same—?

Manaka

Yes, about the same age.

Ito

It just started out as an informal coffee?

Manaka

Yes. It was informal.

Ito

How often would you guys meet?

Manaka

I guess it wouldn't be a matter of meeting. It would be when somebody would drop in at someone's house or something. Then they'd call them and say, "Come on over. We're having coffee." It was just an impromptu thing. It was nothing that was planned. But now we have to plan it, because we have lunch together.

Ito

Were your children friends, as well?

Manaka

Yes. The children were friends.

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Ito

Were you involved in any school activities at your children's school?

Manaka

At PTA [Parent Teacher Association] at school.

Ito

Were there a lot of Nisei involved?

Manaka

Oh yes. There were a lot of Nisei mothers involved in PTA.

Ito

Were the women you had coffee with also involved?

Manaka

Yes. A lot of them were.

Ito

So they were pretty active—?

Manaka

In the neighborhood. They were active.

Ito

Were there other people of ethnic groups in the PTA?

Manaka

There were quite a few Caucasian people there.

Ito

How was that? I mean, did the Nisei sort of stay together, or were they pretty—?

Manaka

They didn't interact too much. They, more or less, stayed together.

Ito

But they still felt comfortable going?

Manaka

Yes. I think. Because Nisei were pretty open, and they were able to get along with the Caucasian people.

Ito

Do you know what the history behind the Crenshaw area was, and why so many Japanese Americans moved to Crenshaw?

Manaka

I don't know. But it was a nice area and very convenient. A lot of Jewish people lived there before. Then when we started coming in, they moved to the [San Fernando] Valley, Northridge. The houses were nice, and it was affordable for us. It was just a nice area to be living. A lot of friends are still there. In fact, most of the girls that we had coffee with are still there, and the neighborhood is really kept up nicely. That area hasn't deteriorated at all after all these years.

Ito

So it was a place where Japanese Americans Nisei wanted to raise their children?

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Manaka

I would say so. At that time, it was just kind of like a safe place. And with so many Japanese people there, when you moved in you just felt comfortable, and the kids all enjoyed it, too.

Ito

What types of Japanese American services were in that area? It was its own community, right? So there were professionals, like dentists, and—

Manaka

There were dentists and optometrist. And of course, there was always Holiday Bowl that the kids all gathered at, and the coffee shop, and all that. My son till today, still complains because we wouldn't let him hang out at Holiday Bowl.

(laughs)

Ito

What was the taboo about Holiday Bowl?

Manaka

Well, it just wasn't—it was okay, because the kids went bowling there. But when they were young, like in junior high, to be hanging around there, it wasn't too nice. So just the other day, he was telling me that, "Yeah. You wouldn't let us hang around at Holiday Bowl." And [he was] still complaining about it. (chuckles)

Ito

Was Holiday Bowl run by Japanese Americans?

Manaka

Um-hm. It was Paul Uyemura and partners.

Ito

Who ran the whole bowling alley, or—?

Manaka

No. They had the bowling alley, and then they had the coffee shop. That was a favorite place for all of us to go too late at night to go get a bowl of noodles over there.

Ito

Was it pretty ethnically diverse at that time, or mostly Japanese Americans there?

Manaka

It was mostly Japanese Americans.

Ito

Were there other congregating spots in Crenshaw?

Manaka

Crenshaw area? No. I don't think so. That was probably the—not the only place, but right at Crenshaw area that people would hang out.

Ito

Was there a Japanese market in the area?

---

Manaka

No. We had to go on Jefferson to go to. There was Enbun on Jefferson, and there was Gilbert's Market. There were a few markets, and a smaller market on Jefferson and Sixth Avenue.

They were mostly on Jefferson.

Ito

That was where most of the ethnic markets—?

Manaka

Um-hm.

Ito

So you drove there pretty frequently?

Manaka

Quite often. Then later, Boys Market came in. They have a section of Japanese foods there. The markets would carry—but naturally, we would prefer to go to a Japanese market, because you know that the stock moves faster, and it's fresh.

Ito

Can you tell me about the fish man?

Manaka

Oh, yes. We used to have a fish man that came every Monday evening. The kids would all run out there, and we would buy the fish. The little ones all wanted ame—you know, Japanese candy. And he carried nori,

candy, and just a few grocery things just to hold you over, and fresh fish.

So every Monday night, you would have fish. (chuckles) And the kids would all run out just like the Helm's Bakery. When the Helm's Bakery truck came, the kids would all run out and want donuts. So there was door-to-door deliver in those days. Also milk in glass milk bottles (chuckles) was delivered to your house.

Ito

So did people know your fish man?

Manaka

Oh yes. You know your fish man. Just what time he would be coming. Get your tofu from him. So that goes to show you that there were a lot of Japanese there, otherwise the business couldn't exist.

Ito

Do you know if the fish man is still around?

Manaka

I don't know. I remember is name was Mr. Chiharu Ikeda. I don't know if he still goes around there or not.

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Ito

Did you participate in any other community kind of activities?

Manaka

While we were at Crenshaw? No, mostly it was the church.

Ito

And what other activities? Was it just the children activities that you participated in?

Manaka

Um-hm. And then I did belong to Women's Club there for a short while.

Ito

And what did the Women's Club do?

Manaka

Mainly they would have cooking class and make things for church benefits. It was a social club, as well as a service to the church and the community.

Ito

Was it a pretty large congregation at Centenary?

Manaka

Yes. It was large. In fact, we had two services. English services were in the morning. I think one was at 9:00 A.M., and another one was at 11:00 A.M., or 10:00 A.M., or something. It was a big congregation.

Ito

In the women's club, was it mostly Nisei women?

Manaka

Yes. Nisei women. The Issei had fujinkai,

which would have been for older Japanese-speaking ladies.

Ito

What types of activities would they do?

Manaka

I think theirs was about the same. After church service, they would serve lunch to raise money for themselves and the church. They would cook it at the church, and everybody would stay for lunch.

Ito

So you said that when you went to Crenshaw, your father came to live with you? You built an addition?

Manaka

He [father] was with my brother Willie and my sister-in-law Kinu for a while. Then, he came over to live with us until we moved to Northridge. He passed away after we moved there. He was one hundred and two and a half [years old]. He was healthy until he fell, and then he was in the hospital for two weeks, and then he passed away. So he was with us all the time we were at Wellington Road.

---

We had these huge sycamore trees lined up on both sides of the street, so that was his daily chore. I think we had the cleanest lawn, because he raked the leaves. There were huge leaves, and he was out there all day long just raking the leaves, and tending to the garden. He had some bonsai plants. Being that he had a nursery before, plants were his first love. He was good at tending to them.

Ito

So he kept busy?

Manaka

He kept busy. Yes. Always.

Ito

You said that it was a predominantly Japanese American area, but what about just your block? Was there some ethnic diversity?

Manaka

Yes. There was some colored people. Our next door neighbor was Chinese. Well, in fact two houses next to us were Chinese. There were some Caucasian people. So it was mixed, but there was a lot of Japanese.

Ito

And everybody got along?

Manaka

Oh yes.

Ito

In 1952 the U.S., passed the Walter-McCarran Act giving citizenship to Japanese Americans.

Did your parents become citizens at that time?

Manaka

Yes. My mother was bedridden, so she couldn't go to class. So my father went to class. They had classes for them. He would come home, and they would study together. Then they both became American citizens. It [the ceremony] was at the Hollywood Bowl.

There's a picture of my mother sitting in a wheelchair with the (chuckles) American flag. At Hollywood Bowl they took a picture of her, and that particular picture was in a magazine in Japan. So (chuckles) her relatives saw it in Japan, and several of them sent that picture to her.

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Ito

Where did they take classes?

Manaka

We were living on Bronson, so it was around Jefferson district. I can't remember. But my dad did go to class.

Ito

And you remember his reaction to—?

Manaka

Oh. They were happy to become citizens and that they were able to.

Ito

I want to move on to the '60s then. Do you remember during the time period of the Civil Rights Movement, and also I guess, the Watts Riots?

Did that affect you in any way? Do you remember?

Manaka

The Watts Riot? Oh yeah. I think it must have affected everybody, because it was really bad. And living in the Crenshaw area where there were a lot of black people—I think we were close to the situation, so it affected them. Especially after you go through Watts, and you see how they burned things down. Like Dorsey, they were affected, too. They didn't have school. So, yeah, it was pretty bad.

Ito

Was there a Japanese American response? Do you remember?

Manaka

No. I don't think so. Well, I don't recall any. It's just that you had sympathy for the people that were injured in the riot, a lot of innocent people.

Ito

Were you ever involved in the JACL [Japanese American Citizens League]

or anything like that?

Manaka

No.

Ito

So moving on into more recent years. You move from Crenshaw to Northridge in '79. Why did you move?

Manaka

Well, we—our daughter Barbara married and she had left [home]. Timmy was going to Cal. State L.A. at that time. So we thought that we would move out further away from Crenshaw. I mean, move out. And, we had my father. So—I don't know. It was something that we wanted to do. We lived there for about seven years. It was just a nice place to be.

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Ito

Up till this point, you had always lived in a predominantly Japanese American area. Did you feel any changes when you moved to Northridge?

Manaka

No. I think when you have children with that age, and then you live there, and you participate into everything with the community, with the children's school and all. But after the kids were gone, well, it was just us. (chuckles) So when we moved out to Northridge, we didn't feel that we missed the Japanese community.

We moved back to Los Angeles after seven years, because my husband was getting tired of commuting. It was getting harder and harder. And then they built that Tokyo Villa.

So then we moved back to Los Angeles. We were back in the Japanese community again getting more and more involved, because Centenary Church was across the street from our condo. I volunteered at the Japanese American Community Cultural Center, not as much as I liked to and had time for, but I enjoyed volunteering over there. Then, we just recently moved to Pasadena where I do volunteer work at Huntington Memorial Hospital.

Ito

You were saying you moved to Northridge, and you didn't really miss the community because the children were all gone? Was it a conscious decision to stay in—I mean, you wanted to raise your children in that sort of atmosphere?

Manaka

I think that's what it is. We had strong feelings about wanting to raise the children that way.

Ito

Why? What kind of—?

Manaka

I don't know. We've always been culture conscious. Then after the children were grown, I guess it just wasn't that—it isn't that it wasn't that important. But we could go into Little Tokyo

whenever we wanted to. But the children were involved in it while they were young.

---

Ito

Maybe perhaps because now in this more modern age with the transportation it's a lot easier?

Manaka

Um-hm. They could do what they want.

Ito

How do you feel about the Redress Movement,

and where did you spend your redress money?

Manaka

We thought it was great. The only regret is—us getting the money was great, and thanks to all those that participated to make it possible. But the only regret is the people that really deserved it, our parents, the Issei were practically all gone before this was all settled. And how did I spend my money? Half of it, I spent (chuckles) taking my two granddaughters—there were 13 of us: cousins, nieces, and nephews that went to Japan as a group. So my husband and I took our two granddaughters, Leslie Ito and Noelle Ito, to Japan in 1994. The rest is still sitting in the bank.

Ito

How did you feel when you received the redress and the letter?

Manaka

Well, it was satisfaction to know that they recognize that it was a wrong doing, and mainly that something like this will not happen to other people again. I think that was the main feeling that I had. We hope that it will never happen to other innocent people, like it did to us.

Ito

I think that's it. Although, I wanted to really quickly just backtrack. After your children went back to school, did you go back to work? We haven't covered that.

Manaka

Yes. I went back to work.

Ito

What did you do?

Manaka

I worked at a pearl jewelry store, and I helped out my brother-in-law at his grocery store. So I never had a steady job, but just filling in for someone. That was just so that I could be home with the children.

Ito

Did you go back to work, because you had free time, or was it economic necessity?

---

Manaka

No. It was because I had free time. My father was living with us. So part of it was that I was taking care of him—that I didn't go back to work.

Ito

Had you always planned to take care of him, or was there discussion to put him in someplace like Keiro [South Bay Nursing Home]?

Manaka

Well, he lived with us. Then, we had his 100^th birthday. No, it was just that my husband said that we would take care of him as long as we could. Fortunately, we were able to take care of him until he passed away. That was what we would like to have done, and we were able to do that.

Ito

Do you have anything else you want to add?

Manaka

No.

Ito

Okay. I guess that's it.

End of interview

Esther (Takei) Nishio

• Interviewee:
•     Esther (Takei) Nishio
• Interviewer:
•     Darcie Iki
• Interviewer:
•     Sojin Kim
• Date:
•     June 21, 1999

Biography

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Esther (Takei) Nishio

	"The news about my return
	leaked out to the city
	newspapers...then all the
	patriotic organizations
	protested. And there was one
	gentleman, in particular, who
	kind of acted as the leader of
	the opposition. They marched
	down to the school board and
	demanded that I leave. And I
	guess there were all sorts of
	protest. Citizens spoke for and
	against a Japanese American
	being back."

Esther (Takei) Nishio, a Nisei, was born in Los Angeles to Harry Shigehisa and Ninoe Takei. Raised in Venice, California, her parents ran a game concession at the Venice Amusement Pier. She attended Venice High School and the Futaba Gakuen, a Japanese language school in nearby Santa Monica. During the war Esther Takei was incarcerated at Santa Anita Assembly Center and the concentration camp at Amache, Colorado. Harry Takei was interned at Santa Fe, New Mexico, but was later released and rejoined the family before moving to Amache. At Santa Anita, Esther Takei worked in the mess hall, while at Amache, she was a dental assistant for Dr. Nagamoto. She was also involved with The Pioneer, the camp newspaper, for which she wrote a column and penned a cartoon strip called "Amachan." After a short stint as a schoolgirl in Boulder, Colorado, she eventually returned to Amache to rejoin her family.

In early September of 1944, Esther Takei became the first Japanese American student to return to the West Coast prior to the rescission of the mass exclusion orders. With the help of Hugh Anderson and William Carr of the Friends of the American Way, she attended the Pasadena Junior College [PJC, later renamed Pasadena City College]. Her arrival generated great publicity and stirred considerable public debate. For weeks, cars lined the streets near the Anderson residence to get a glimpse of her. At the time, the Anderson family also received threatening phone calls and letters. Despite the many individuals and organizations that protested her return, there were many in the

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community who wrote letters of encouragement. Within a month or so, the protests dwindled, and Esther Takei continued her education at PJC without further incident. The Western Defense commander, General Charles Hartwell Bonesteel, later stated that the success of her return to Pasadena expedited his decision to rescind the exclusion orders and allow Japanese Americans to return to the West Coast.

In 1947, Esther Takei married Shigeto Nishio in Los Angeles. Together, the couple had one son, John Nishio. During the postwar years, she worked first as a secretary for Henry Dreyfuss, a pioneer in industrial design, and then later for The Flying Tiger Airlines. Today, Esther and Shigeto Nishio still in Pasadena, where they have made their home for over fifty years.

Interview

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Esther (Takei) Nishio discusses her experience as the first Japanese American student to return to California before the reopening of the West Coast. She describes the controversy surrounding her return, and shares thoughts about those who helped her resettle, as well as those who protested her presence at Pasadena Junior College. She also recalls growing up at the Venice Amusement Pier, her wartime incarceration at Santa Anita Assembly Center and Amache concentration camp, her brief experience as a housegirl in Colorado, and her marriage and family life in the postwar era. Darcie Iki and Sojin Kim conducted this interview on June 21, 1999 in Pasadena, California

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Iki

Thank you very much for agreeing to do this interview; I'm really looking forward to it.

Esther Nishio

Oh, I'm very happy to do it.

Iki

This is an interview with Esther Takei Nishio. It is June 21, 1999 and we are here at her home in Pasadena?

Esther Nishio

Pasadena.

Iki

In Pasadena. Okay, well I thought we would just get started with the interview—if you could talk a little about your parents and how they came to the United States.

Esther Nishio

Umhm. Well, my father came earlier and I'm not sure what year it was, but it was in the—I think, early 1900s. I have a Bible that he used and that was dated 1915, but that was quite a bit after he had arrived. He came to San Francisco, I believe, and he worked for a laundry service that his cousin had started, Mr. Nozawa. Apparently, a Mr. Nozawa and my father were from Yamanashi-ken

in Japan. And Mr. Nozawa assisted all the men from Yamanashi-ken who came to California. My father then went on to Chicago.

Much later he left Chicago and joined the Salvation Army. He was sent to Japan after the great earthquake to help with the relief. At that time he met my mother, and she was a teacher at a missionary school in Yamanashi-ken, teaching kindergarten children. Apparently, a baishakunin

asked if she would like to marry this nice gentleman from the United States. After some arrangements, she agreed to do so, but on the condition that he leave the army—Salvation Army. She didn't want a husband who was going to be gallivanting all over the world.

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He agreed and he left the Salvation Army. And they were married in 1924 and came back to Los Angeles.

It must have just before the Exclusion Act.

They were married for several years, and she discovered—oh when the—before they were married, her relatives had told her that this gentleman that had proposed suffered a great tragedy in his life, but they didn't discuss what that tragedy was. He was a nice-looking man and very sweet, and gentle, and kind. So they fell in love, apparently, and they were married. I arrived a year later— their only child. It was when I was about two and a half, three years old when she found the secret of his past life. He had been married previously and had brought his bride to Chicago. They had three children, but she— his wife passed away during the flu epidemic. And he had been an— excuse me what do you call it?

[Shig Nishio, Esther's husband responds]

Shig Nishio

Yoshi.

Iki

Oh.

Esther Nishio

Yoshi. He had taken his wife's maiden name because she was an only child. And so his wife passed away and left the three little children. And her father came to Chicago and told my father, "You are released from your obligation to this family. Please take back your surname, and I am going to take the children to Japan with me." And so he took the children away from my father, and, of course, he was very— he was bereft, you know. He lost his wife and his children. And so that was when he went back to San Francisco and joined the Salvation Army.

When my mother heard this, she was just so touched that she told my father, "Let's go back to Japan and bring back your children." I was three-and-a-half so— 1928 or '29, she took me with her to Japan, to Kyushu where his— my father's three children were, and tried to bring, to talk the family into releasing

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the children, so that they could join our family. But she was unsuccessful. And so she— we came to Los Angeles. We lived in—

Iki

Was it just you and your mother who went?

Esther Nishio

Yes. Yes, my father stayed. My father and my mother had started concessions at the Venice Amusement Pier, and they had all sorts of games. And they might have played—well, if you were younger you might have played them. They had the string game where you pulled the string and a little prize would come up from behind the curtain. And we had a baseball game where you threw baseballs at milk bottles to win a prize, and they had a shooting gallery where you shot corks at candy bars and knocked them off the shelf. They had the penny pitch, and they also had a fishpond at the end of the pier. They had a long— like a trough that went all around the booth with little wooden fish floating in it. And you had a fishing pole with a little hook. [If] you hooked the fish and you opened the bottom of the belly [there was] a little tin flap [with] a number. You won a prize according to a number. There was also a rabbit race. Several rabbits were lined up, and when the player pushed the lever, the corresponding bunny would spring forward. The winner of the race was awarded a prize. So my father was running the games while my mother and I went to Japan.

Iki

This is a very interesting occupation.

Esther Nishio

Umhm, it is kind of different.

Iki

It's very unusual. So how did your parents or how did your father— ?

Esther Nishio

Oh well, my father had an older brother and, apparently, he was— he had arrived in Venice,

California. Apparently [he] arrived earlier, so when my father and mother came back to Japan—came back from Japan, they moved in with my uncle. And so that's how they started. I guess later on, my father had an octopus ride. But in the olden days when Venice was still young, it was very, a very glamorous place. There was a grand ballroom, and then there was a dragon slide, and next to the dragon slide there was a place called the "The Ship." It was a restaurant cafe— a cafe. That's where you booked a ride to get on a little shuttle boat to take you to the gambling ship out— three miles out. And then my father and his brother started a bingo parlor near the foot of the pier, and they had that for several years.

DISo did you work in the concession stand?

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Esther Nishio

Yes, when I was a small child, I used to be on the pier all the time, because, I was too young to be left home alone. So I'd be playing inside the booth. When there was music at the grand ballroom, I'd go in and dance, and tap dance and so forth. My friends and I would get to ride on all the rides for free and so forth. It was a lot of fun, but when I was about junior high school age my parents asked me to help, so I would work on weekends in the booth or be a cashier at the octopus ride.

Iki

What's the— can you describe what is that? What is the octopus ride?

Esther Nishio

Oh, they still have those at the carnivals. It's a ride that has these arms sticking out with chairs or little seats, car seats on the end. And the seats would twirl as the octopus would go like this [gesturing with both arms extended to her sides]. They were like eight arms with eight seats on it.

Iki

So how did he—that's a pretty major ride. How did they have to buy that?

Esther Nishio

Yes, of course. They had to buy it. Uh huh.

Iki

The equipment and everything?

Esther Nishio

Yes uhm.

Iki

That's really interesting.

Esther Nishio

And then during the summer my father would go off with his employees on the carnivals and travel up and down California with his traveling booths and games. You know that shooting—you know where he had bb guns, and shot targets, and the baseball pitch and things like that. So my mother would run the concessions [stand] at the pier.

Iki

Do you know where he went?

Esther Nishio

Well, I know he was always at the Pomona Fair, at end of September, but he would go out to all the small towns, you know, like Central California and so forth.

Iki

Did you ever go with him?

Esther Nishio

No, not really. I think we went to visit him at the Pomona Fair, but not usually further out.

Iki

So did you travel very much farther than Central Coast?

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Esther Nishio

I don't believe so. And then I remember one year he and his employees went up north somewhere and chopped Christmas trees and sold those down here in Los Angeles.

Iki

Do you think your parents enjoyed working— ?

Esther Nishio

Oh yes, they had a wonderful life. It was different and they worked strange hours because it was an amusement pier. They would get up late in the morning and work all day and get [home] around midnight or so. And sometimes they would go crab fishing at the end of the pier. They had a lot fun.

Iki

This is after midnight?

Esther Nishio

Uh. (laughter)

Iki

Wow. That's great. What do you think about their occupation, growing up around the pier?

Esther Nishio

Well, it was an unusual occupation for Issei , but I— it was just normal to me, you know something I grew up with. So since they worked all day, I always had to go off to school without breakfast unless my father got up and did something for me. And I came home in the afternoon and no one was home. So I was one of those kids that had a house key strung on a string in my growing up years.

Iki

Was that difficult for you?

Esther Nishio

No, it was—it was fun. (laughter) We went to Florence Nightingale Elementary School in Venice, and it was a wonderful little school. I think, at the beginning, I was the only Japanese American student there and there were, I think, maybe three or four after me. So it was a lot of fun.

Iki

So most of the people coming to Venice and to the pier, to these concessions, were they a mixed crowd?

Esther Nishio

Oh yes, it was. In the olden days, it was the place to go because there was no Disneyland or Knott's Berry Farm. So people would go to the beach and swim, and sun on the sand, and have fun at the games and eat hot dogs and hamburgers. It was a great place. Oh, yes, and they always had a Mardi Gras where people would dress up in costumes and come to the pier. It was a lot of fun.

Iki

Was there any ever—so your parents were working in Venice—?

Esther Nishio

Uh hm.

---

Iki

Say in the late-'20s, early-'30s, was there any—did they ever experience any type of discrimination or anything?

Esther Nishio

Well, I'm not sure. They probably did, but I don't know about it. All the people on the pier were great friends. So that's all I know. And then the people in our neighborhood were all very nice. They may have met discrimination somewhere, although it was a practice to keep minorities out of the plunge. There was a beautiful— what they call the plunge? You know— a big giant swimming pool in a gorgeous building at the beach, with fountains cascading and so forth. But minorities were not allowed to go swimming there. So there was discrimination, but we didn't actually run into it otherwise.

Iki

What was school like for you?

Esther Nishio

Oh, it was great! There was no discrimination at all, wonderful friends. It wasn't until I went to Venice junior and senior high schools that I came across a lot of Nisei.

Iki

What was that like for you?

Esther Nishio

It was great! Uhm-hm. We took part in as many activities as we could, of course. It was a wonderful school. The original school was apparently very beautiful, but it was destroyed in the earthquake. They built a new school that was earthquake proof, but we called it the "prison," because it was so stark compared to the original school. (laughter) It was famous for having a statue of Myrna Loy in front. (laughter)

Iki

(laughter) I don't know who Myrna Loy is.

Esther Nishio

Oh you don't know. Well, Myrna Loy was a famous movie star in the 1930s. (laughter) And she must have gone to Venice High School.

Iki

So what was school like for you? Did you enjoy going to school?

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Iki

Can you describe some of your recollections?

Esther Nishio

Oh, we used to get a red streetcar to go to Venice High School in Venice—junior high school. And the classmates were very nice, mostly hakujin [Caucasian] and some Nisei. And what else is there to say? (laughter) I took all the required courses?

Iki

What did you do since your parents were working after school? Did you—were you involved in a lot of different activities?

---

Esther Nishio

Oh, you mean at school? Oh well, I was looking in my high school annual. And I guess when I went to junior high school, they examine you to decide whether you can take part in the regular P.E. [physical education] courses and stuff. I ran up the stairs from the room. My heart was racing when they tested me, so I was stuck in rest for about five years. (laughter) It wasn't until, I think, the 12^th grade that they allowed me to take part in regular physical ed classes. (laughter)

Iki

What's rest?

Esther Nishio

Oh, you have to rest during the physical ed. hour, just lie on the cot and rest. (laughter)

Iki

Really, for about five years?

Esther Nishio

You couldn't play or anything. It was so much fun. (laughter) But, you know, we took part in the Glee Club, or whatever—Glee Club, and public speaking. And, I guess they had in junior high school, they had a service—honorary service group. We were in the charter group, and I was selected to design the logo for our sweaters. And I thought that was a great honor.

We had a Japanese American club that the art instructor sponsored and so a lot of the Nisei were in that. It's like in the House of Delegates, I guess. And in senior high, in the 12^th grade, I was selected to be on the Venetian Ladies, which was the senior high school honorary women's group. And I got my sweater, you know, but we were evacuated, so I didn't get to be in the annual picture, and I thought, "Shucks!"

Iki

What was that called again?

Esther Nishio

Venetian Ladies.

Iki

The Venetian Ladies Club?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

The membership was based on?

Esther Nishio

Well, it was— you were, I guess, selected by the teachers and the members who were already in the group to join them.

Iki

And what was the criteria or— ?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I don't know, I think service, scholastic ability, whatever. It's been so long, I don't remember. (laughter)

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Iki

So, who were you in high, junior high or in high school, who did you spend a lot of time with?

Esther Nishio

Oh I had a girlfriend named Carol Cook. We grew up together in elementary school and we were still buddies in junior high. But I met a Nisei friend in junior and senior high named Hisako Nagai, and we were best friends all through our school years.

Iki

Did she participate in a lot of the same activities?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

What was the general make up of the student body at Venice?

Esther Nishio

It was mostly Caucasian, very few blacks or Hispanics, and some Japanese. There were a lot of farmers in the Venice-Culver City area, and most of the Nisei were from the farming community.

Iki

So were you and your family involved in different activities within the Japanese American community?

Esther Nishio

Not too much. My parents were busy working, so they weren't able to join in. We had a nihon gakko, Japanese language school that all of us attended after the regular school. And it wasn't until 1941 that my father took part in the PTA for the Japanese school.

Iki

So you attended— you had to go Japanese school after—?

Esther Nishio

Yes, after regular school.

Iki

What was that like for you?

Esther Nishio

Well, I was never a good student. (laughter) But it was a very small school. I think it was called the Futaba Gakuen. And it was sort of between Ocean Park

and Santa Monica. We enjoyed going there— to see the boys, mostly. (laughter)

Iki

So was that mainly— going to Japanese language school? Was that the main activity that you did that sort of put you in touch with the Japanese American community?

Esther Nishio

Yes, I guess.

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Iki

Were there any other activities that were you involved in?

Esther Nishio

Oh well, my mother always had me learning things when I was growing up. So I had all kinds of dance lessons, like tap dance, and ballet, and acrobatics. Then she forced me to take piano lessons. (laughter) And I [had] always enjoyed drama, so we took part in all the plays at Nihon gakuen [Japanese language school].

Iki

What was your mother like?

Esther Nishio

Oh, she was great, a great mother, and a great friend. At that time, I was growing up, I thought she and my dad were so old. But looking back now at the pictures, they were so young. (laughter) My mother was a very artistic lady, and she loved children. Wherever she was, she was always looking after little children. In Venice she always dressed beautifully, the height of fashion. (laughter)

Iki

Really?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm. But she was very good at drawing and—music. She loved music. My dad loved mom so much that he was always involved in anything she was into. So he learned a lot because of mom. (laughter)

Iki

So did she have time to, sort of, do these things that— ?

Esther Nishio

During the prewar days, she didn't have much time because they worked so hard, you know, long hours. But it was during the concentration camp days and after they returned to California that she kind of blossomed.

Iki

So what did she pick up?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I forgot to tell you that she was a great seamstress. She went to sewing school. So, looking at the pictures, she had made all my baby clothes and little girl clothes. They were just gorgeous, I thought, you know. And when she came back here she was learning ceramics and cloisonné and all kinds of Japanese music like biwa and—the singing.

Iki

Tell me a little bit of your father, what was he like?

Esther Nishio

I thought my dad was so handsome. (laughter) But he was a wonderful, gentle person. And loved mom so much. He always called her Ninoe-san. Her name was Ninoe, and he always added the "san". That was quite unusual in those days. He always kind of protected her, you know. And being an only child I was spoiled rotten. If I asked my mom, "May I have something," and she said no, I could go to my dad and twist him around my little— and he'd get it for me! (laughter)

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Iki

It sounded like you had a really wonderful relationship with your parents.

Esther Nishio

Oh, I really did. And I guess my dad was always kind of an entrepreneur, so he was always trying to better himself. My parents were both very religious. You know, my mom grew up with a missionary school, and my dad converted early in his life. So that was something they always treasured all through their lives.

Iki

So they were both Christians?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

Did they have time to go to church?

Esther Nishio

No, they didn't, not until they came to Pasadena. But during the working years they always worked the hardest on weekends, you know.

Iki

So what was that like for you when you were in high school? When you were to start working a lot more at the concessions?

Esther Nishio

Oh, it wasn't bad. I missed chumming around with my friends, you know, but it was fun meeting all the people that came to the pier. I learned a lot about people there.

Iki

What kinds of things did you learn about people?

Esther Nishio

Oh. They're all quite nice. Very few wanted to cheat you, or make things hard for you.

Iki

Do you remember anyone specific that used to work on the pier?

Esther Nishio

Well, a lot of students going to USC [University of Southern California] would come to work for us during the summer. And I remember some who were from Hawai'i. They were all in dental school. I remember Poka Hamamura, and—Obo. (laughter)

Iki

Obo?

Esther Nishio

Obo. (laughter) Many of my cousins from Nihon [Japan] came to stay with us when they were 17 years old. And they would stay with us and go to school to learn English. They would help us out at the pier. So we had a good group.

Iki

Do you remember some of the other vendors?

Esther Nishio

There was another Issei man named Yama-san but I don't remember what he did. But I think he was the only other Japanese man until— until my father's

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buddy from Yamanashi-ken came with his bride. They lived in a house in back of ours, and they helped us at the pier. I grew up with their son, and he was like my little brother. And he's now a very well known architect, contractor, Roy Takei. He also lives in Pasadena now.

Iki

Oh really?

Esther Nishio

Uh hm.

Iki

So you're in, I guess, you're a senior in high school, living in Venice, and then the war breaks out in December 7^th.

Do you remember?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I was at home that day, and my parents were already working at the pier. And I heard the news on the radio, and it really frightened me. I was supposed to join them to help out but I was afraid to leave the house. But I finally gathered up nerve after several hours to join them. My father was rather upset, because he felt he had things he should be doing, you know. But I remember we had to put black velvet in the windows of the house, because of air raid warnings and so forth.

But when the Exclusion Act came about, dad knew that we had to leave. We had planned to leave for the interior, you know, before the evacuation. We had a lot of equipment from the carnival days. We had two big trucks and two house trailers. So we were going to take those and, you know, go where it was [going to be] safe.

I don't remember what month it was, but the FBI came after my father and took him away. Because, I guess, in '41 he was president of the Parent Teacher's Association [for the] Nihon Gakko. So that left my mother with our employees, and she set about getting everything ready for us to leave.

Iki

Was that very soon after the war broke out, after—?

Esther Nishio

I think dad— I think he was taken February or so, somewhere around there.

Iki

Do you remember when he was taken away?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember exactly, but I know that they took him to the police station in Venice. And he kind of disappeared, and he turned up at, I think, at a CCC [Civilian Conservation Corp.] camp or something. I don't know where it was. Somewhere in the Santa Monica hills or out there. And then he was sent off, and we never saw him again.

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Meanwhile, we had to leave, so we went to Santa Anita. But I guess before my dad was taken in late- or 1941— before the war broke [out], we had moved to El Sereno, you know Los Angeles? My cousin was taking care of a nursery for an Issei man who had [to] leave for Nihon, and so we had moved there. I was commuting to Venice High School from El Sereno. And I guess my dad was taken. So when the order came for us to leave, we left from LA, and we were taken to Santa Anita Assembly Center.

Iki

What were you thinking about at that time when all of this was happening?

Esther Nishio

Well, I was very disappointed. You know I had taken civics and studied about the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights, and how great it was to be an American citizen. And then, when the exclusion order came, I was really shocked and hurt. But I was— I guess, I just turned seventeen in February of '42. I thought, well, I guess, as a good American citizen, we have to do what the government wants us to do. It was really disappointing.

One thing I remember though. They told us we couldn't take cameras with us so I had a little brownie camera. My girlfriend, Carol Cook, and I very surreptitiously took it apart, put it in a bag with corn chips and (chuckle) walked down to the Venice canals, you know the famous canals. And pretended that we were eating corn chips, and threw out little pieces of the camera (chuckle) into the canal. We thought we were so clever, but thinking back my husband said, "Why didn't you give the camera to your girlfriend?" (laughter)

Iki

It must have been very difficult for you. Having to leave your friends behind.

Esther Nishio

It was and I had two dogs that I just loved. One was called Shiro, and he was a little Skye terrier, and Kuro, who was a mixed German shepherd. I had to leave them behind. And I was so sad.

Iki

Did you leave them with your friends?

Esther Nishio

With a landlady, uh-hm. I don't know what happened to them.

Iki

At the time, did you talk with your mother very much about what was happening? I mean it must have also been very difficult for her.

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Esther Nishio

It must have been so hard. But I don't recall what I said to her or how I helped her. I have no recollection of those times. It's kind of sad, isn't it? (ironic laughter) I would like to remember now, but I guess I repressed it for so long that it is really hard to remember.

Iki

So do you remember the day that you left—the preparations, the week or so before?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't.

Iki

All of that?

Esther Nishio

No. I just remember we had one suitcase each, and I don't remember what I packed. (laughter) I remember that they told us. It was— we were going into the wilds of America. We didn't know where. And so I remember going to the JC Penney store in Santa Monica and mom bought me, a sort of like, a coverall. Real rough and tough clothing for camp experience. (laughter)

Iki

Do you remember arriving in Santa Anita Assembly Center?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't. I remember that we got on a bus in Los Angeles somewhere, possibly it was around East First Street or somewhere. And I think we left with mostly Westside people. We rode not knowing where we were going to be sent, and it turned out to be Santa Anita [Assembly Center]. We were given a barracks in what is now a parking lot. And my future husband was already in Santa Anita in the stables.

Iki

You lived in a barracks, in a parking lot?

Esther Nishio

Yes, they built barracks in the parking lot. All the streets had horse names like Man-O-War, or whatever, you know, famous horses. They had several messes—mess halls, the red mess, the yellow. I think the red mess was in the grandstand, at the—underneath the grandstand. The yellow mess is where I eventually went to work as a waitress—and the green mess and the blue mess and the white mess. Everyone who was seventeen and over was drafted for some sort of job. And I was drafted as a waitress.

Iki

Actually let me back up a little bit. I think I remember reading somewhere that when you left Venice High that they had some kind of party.

Esther Nishio

Yes, I read that and it's not true! I don't where they got that story, possibly they might have given a banquet for the other students that were there.

Iki

The Japanese Americans?

Esther Nishio

Possibly, but I wasn't there when it happened because I don't know. (laughter)

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Iki

Well, that's really interesting, and that's good to clear up.

Esther Nishio

I do remember that I was given my diploma. I don't know how I received it—whether I received it when I left the school on my last day, or whether they sent it to me in camp.

Iki

So how did they arrange for that? So you still had about another semester of school?

Esther Nishio

Well it was, what, April when I left. I don't know when I stopped riding the streetcar to go to class, but possibly the middle of April.

Iki

Do you remember saying good-bye to your friends?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't. That's just a big blur.

Iki

Well there must have been so many things going on.

Esther Nishio

Possibly.

Iki

So you are in Santa Anita, and you're with your mother. Is it just you and your mother?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

And at this time you had no idea where your father was?

Esther Nishio

No, I had no idea where he was. And then, luckily for us, he returned to us before we were shipped out of Santa Anita. He had been in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

My mother told me later that they called him the "Angel of Santa Fe" because of his good works there. And knowing my dad he must have helped people while he was there.

Iki

Did you ever talk to him about his experience?

Esther Nishio

No, he never did. He never talked about being incarcerated. I think he wanted to forget, yeah, 'cause he loved the United States; he just loved it. When he was given the opportunity, he became an American citizen. And even in Japan when he retired to Tokyo—whenever he ran into an American, he'd speak English to them and just reveled in it.

Iki

So what was it like for you at Santa Anita, can you describe your recollections?

---

Esther Nishio

Oh, it was very exciting. (laughter) It's very hot and muggy and different being surrounded by Asian faces constantly. It was quite a new experience, I'm sure for all of us. But we all made friends with each other and compared notes and worked hard. When I worked at the yellow mess, we had to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And I don't remember what time the mess would open in the morning, but I imagine it was quite early 'cause they had three shifts for all the people. The waitresses had to get there an hour before serving time. So we would set the table and when people came, we would dole out the sugar because it was rationed. Each person was allowed one teaspoon, and they had to decide whether they wanted it in their coffee or on their cereal.

And they gave us a lot of guff because of the—you know, that wasn't enough for them. But one day—oh, the waitresses were always served after everyone else had been served, after they'd left. One day they ran out of food, and we didn't get fed. And so I led a strike and demanded that from now on the cooks serve the servers before the other people, because otherwise we wouldn't work. (laughter)

Iki

Tell me about the strike.

Esther Nishio

Well, we just sat there and wouldn't do anything until they fed us. (laughter)

Iki

And so it worked?

Esther Nishio

It worked, and the chefs kind of grinned. And they said, "Well, would you like a steak?" and of course, we said, "No!" We didn't know they had steak, you know. (laughter)

Iki

They did have steaks?

Esther Nishio

Apparently, the chefs had their own private reserve.

Iki

Really? So how long were you working there?

Esther Nishio

We were sent to Amache

in September—sometime, middle of September.

Iki

You arrived in Santa Anita probably in—

Esther Nishio

I think maybe April 30 or May 1^st—somewhere around there.

---

Iki

Did you get to do, as you mentioned? This was sort of the first time that you were around a lot of Japanese Americans. Were there social things that you were able to do while you were there?

Esther Nishio

Oh we visited each other and went to the grandstand in the evenings—sometimes when they had talent shows, or maybe a Mickey Mouse cartoon or something. And, I think, there used to be a small track where they exercised the horses. And I think the young men played baseball. We watched them—very simple pleasures.

I remember I had—I guess you could call him a boyfriend. And we were sitting outside in the shade and he said, "Why don't we go and take a shower together?" (laughter) 'Cause they had—when we first got to camp, to the assembly center, we all had [to] bathe in a roundhouse, you know where they used to wash all the horses. That was a horrible experience. There were no partitions, or anything. It was very humiliating, but then they eventually built a shower, a shower building, and half of it was for the men, and half of it was for the women with a partition in the middle. And I said, "No thanks, I don't want to take a shower now." But it turned out that the men had knocked the knotholes out and they were peeking in at the ladies on the ladies side! (laughter)

Iki

So were you dating for very long?

Esther Nishio

Oh, no. (laughter)

Iki

And you said that you met your husband?

Esther Nishio

Yes, we met each other through a mutual friend. Never knowing, at that time, that we would end up together several years later. (laughter)

Iki

Did you date him at that time?

Esther Nishio

No, he didn't even look at me. (laughter)

Iki

What was the general morale, like, amongst your peers?

Esther Nishio

You mean at Santa Anita?

Iki

Yeah, at Santa Anita.

Esther Nishio

It was very upbeat, I think. We were trying to make the best of it. And, you know we had our parents with us, and we felt so sorry for them. It was really, I think, very hard on the Issei. So we were doing our best. We felt that this was what we should be doing, I mean, make the best of it since we [were] sent there by the government. What else could we do, you know?

---

So thinking back, I admired all the people who resisted and then stuck up for their rights. It's something, maybe, we should all have done. But I believe, at the time, most of the Nisei were younger. Not too many older Nisei , and so we didn't know any better, I guess. If it were now, I don't believe the Sansei would have let it happen.

Iki

Well, I also think that it was a completely different time back then.

Esther Nishio

Well that's true.

Iki

—different political climate. It was before the Civil Rights Movement.

Esther Nishio

Right. There's a lot of discrimination out in the streets. That's what they said, you know, that they were putting us behind barbed wires to protect us. Which is totally untrue.

Iki

So, did you notice the impact that it had on your mother at that time?

Esther Nishio

Well, I was so busy doing my own thing. I don't think I really paid attention to my mom's feelings. But I know she made the best of it. I don't remember whether she had to work or not. She might have, but I don't remember what she was doing at the time. But we [were] really thankful when my father was returned to us, you know.

Iki

Just to get a sense, how old are your parents at this time in '42?

Esther Nishio

Gee, looking at the pictures, they were still quite young. Maybe, 40? I'm not sure. If you turn off the camera, maybe I can count on my fingers. (laughter) Let's see.

Iki

You had mentioned that you always thought that they were so old.

Esther Nishio

I know, but they were still quite young, I think.

Iki

I don't know if I covered this, but what happened to all your things?

Esther Nishio

All our personal things? Well, when we had to leave, my mother, I think, gave the carnival equipment to a very nice young man who had worked for us, a hakujin [Caucasian] fellow. And I think he was supposed, you know, to run the carnival business. And then the concessions on the pier and the ride were turned over to another trusted employee, and she was going to handle the business.

Then when we came back, they would—you know, she'd give it back to us. But when my folks came from the camp, everything was gone, so I don't believe it

---

was something that they did on purpose. It's just that—perhaps they couldn't run the business for a profit, and they just lost everything.

Iki

Your parents hadn't kept in touch with them or anything?

Esther Nishio

I don't know. See that's what I don't know.

Iki

Since we're reaching lunch, let's go through the rest of some of your Santa Anita experience and your camp experience. Then we'll stop there and continue after lunch?

Esther Nishio

Okay.

Iki

Okay, so you were telling me about your experiences in Santa Anita. Do you remember any discussions that were going on about you leaving Santa Anita and going somewhere else?

Esther Nishio

Oh, no, I don't, but I'm sure that they must have wondered what would happen to us. I just remembered that that was the first time I saw so many Nisei, you know, there in one place. [We] had a wonderful time meeting all sorts of people from all over California. It was rather sad parting with our new friends, of course, because we left camp on different days, not knowing whether we would ever meet again.

Iki

Do you remember the day that you left Santa Anita?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't. I just know that it was September some time. We were taken on a train, I think through the Southwest to arrive in Amache. Looking at the map, it's sort of the southeast corner of Colorado, near the Kansas border.

Iki

Did your folks have any idea where you were going?

Esther Nishio

No, we didn't! We had no idea. We had to keep our window shades pulled down. We weren't allowed to peek out. And I remember somewhere along the way, I leaned out across the seat and lifted up the blind to peek out, and an MP came along and slapped me on the behind. And all the men on that car were up in arms. I remember that. But that was kind of scary, you know.

Iki

Do you remember what you were thinking at the time?

Esther Nishio

No. I'm sure we were wondering what's going to happen to us, and what sort of horrible place we were going to be sent to. When we arrived in Amache, I don't remember how we got there, but I know the train station was in Granada, which was a few miles from the camp site. We were taken up to the camp on buses or trucks, army trucks, I'm not sure which, and were assigned our barracks. We happened to get an apartment on the corner of the camp in front, right near the

---

sewage plant. Yeah, it was kind of depressing. I think the barracks had brick floors and a big coal stove in one corner. And we were given army cots and I think straw mattresses. When we got settled, I believe, all the men would go down to the dump and scrounge around for materials to build partitions and furniture to make life more livable there.

Iki

So by this time your father has already joined you?

Esther Nishio

Yes, he was with us, thank goodness! (chuckle) And he was— he became a block manager for our block. A famous Issei painter was in our block, Mr. Ueyama. I believe he was the proprietor of Bunka Do on East First Street [in Los Angeles], and he taught oil painting classes. My mother was among his students.

Iki

What was your first impression of Granada?

Esther Nishio

Oh! Very vast and ooo hot! It was still hot then and lots of dust and sagebrush. But then I saw my first snowfall in September, later on that month. And it was kind of exciting. There were a lot of people from [the] Westside [of Los Angeles] living in our camp. We had made a lot of wonderful friends there. One of my first jobs in camp was a dental assistant at the dental clinic. Dr. Nagamoto who was one of the early pioneers in orthodontist treatment, orthodontics, was head of the dental clinic. I was lucky enough to be trained in dental assisting in the camp.

Iki

How did you choose that or did they choose you?

Esther Nishio

Oh, well, my mother and father knew Dr. Nagamoto from before the war, and I guess they asked him if I could come to work for him. And he gave me the job. When I went there my first day, there were two quite attractive ladies there and they asked, "How did you get the job?" And I said, "Oh, I had pull." I was so embarrassed to find out later that they were his relatives. (laughter)

Iki

Did you start working there right away?

Esther Nishio

Yes. We all had to do something to earn our keep. Well, most jobs waitressing and dental assisting paid $8.00 a month. (chuckle)

Iki

So what did you spend your $8.00 a month on?

Esther Nishio

Well, we were given Sears catalogs to choose warm clothing for the winter. And then later on when things were more benign, they allowed us to get passes to go to a nearby town called Lamar—to shop for a few hours. They'd take us out by— I don't remember if it was bus or army truck to shop for a few hours and then bring us back to camp.

---

Iki

And your parents. You said that for them they had to work so much before war. What types of things were they doing?

Esther Nishio

In camp, I think my father was the block manager, so he was helping people. And my mom was drafted as a waitress in our mess hall, and in our block, but she took her painting classes and so forth. Dad was always carving things, or something; they were always busy. They had a credit union and all sorts of things that the older generation was involved in.

[Question not recorded]

Iki

That's a very unusual name.

Esther Nishio

It was, huh. I think there were two sisters, and she was number two. Maybe that is why they called her Ninoe. (laughter) So when I was born my mother and father combined one character from each of their names. So I had— my father's first name is Shigehisa. So the first part of my name is "Shige"—his character for "Shige." And the last part of my name is "e" for Ninoe, but it's pronounced Kazue.

Iki

What were your overall impressions of what the whole camp experience was like? You were there for about two years in Granada.

Esther Nishio

Well, when I first got there, it was sort of a challenge, you know. The weather was so different from California. First it was very cold— the snow, and it was very deep snow. And in the summer time it was very hot with dust storms. But it was getting by, working, making friends, and trying to learn something while you are doing all this. While it was kind of sad being behind barbed wire, it was okay.

I remember a soldier came to visit one of mom's friends, it was her nephew. We were taking a walk around the camp in the evening. And we were hit by the spotlight from the guard tower, which was kind of a bad feeling. Both in Santa Anita and at Amache at night they would have the spotlights from the guard towers casting [out] about the camp. And that kind of reminded you where you were, you know—not so great.

Iki

A lot of people also talk about, I guess—some of the good times they also had in camp?

Esther Nishio

Yes, we had wonderful times.

Iki

What are some of your fond memories?

Esther Nishio

Oh, well I remember some of the great friends we had, and one of my oldest and dearest friends I met in Santa Anita. Her name is Aki Nakagawa. And I

---

remember that we first met at the yellow mess hall. We were both drafted as waitresses, and she walked up to me and said, "Hi, my name is Aki Nakagawa. What's yours?" We were best friends for years after that. She was in our block in Amache. And she and I became advisors for young teenage girl's club. That was one of our activities. We had block dances and we started a little theatre group, and put on a play.

After— I guess, the following year, in 1943, I left camp to go to Boulder, because I wanted to enter the University of Colorado there. I had to establish residence, a year's residence, so I was, there, working as a schoolgirl. But, I think, towards the end of the year, my father asked [me] to come back to camp.

So I came back, and this time I worked for the camp newspaper. It was called The Pioneer, and I started out as a Sunday school news editor, and I was given my own column. And then I started a little cartoon, a character called 'Ama-chan,' and that was a lot of fun.

Iki

Ama-chan?

Esther Nishio

Ama-chan for Amache. (laughter)

Iki

Wow. That's great! I'm going to have to look those up.

Esther Nishio

I don't have any copies, so I don't know how good it was. (laughter)

Iki

The museum might have some.

Esther Nishio

You think so?

Iki

We have different people donate different copies of documents.

Esther Nishio

That would be fun to check.

Iki

Ama-chan! That's great! Well, let's— I want to back up a little bit. I was wondering if you could talk about the girl's club.

Esther Nishio

Oh it's called Jo-dees. Jo-dees, and I think they were like twelve years old or so. Aki and I think we had a great time with them. And I don't recall how we received the invitation, but I think, two of the young girl's clubs were invited to attend a camp during the summer. And, I think, it was in Estes Park, somewhere out there near— in the mountains near Denver. So I was chosen to take our girls up there. We went by train to wherever, [to this] this camp, and spent a week there with regular young women, young girls from that area.

Iki

When was this?

---

Esther Nishio

It must have been 1943.

Iki

So you were sort of the leader. You and your girlfriend were— ?

Esther Nishio

Yeah, we were the advisors.

Iki

Advisors. That's great!

Esther Nishio

It was fun.

Iki

So did you and your girlfriend initiate and create this club?

Esther Nishio

I think we helped organize it for the young girls. Then we started our age group also, you know, for our area. That was a young women's club, because we were all in our teens, at that time.

Iki

So did you have a name for that?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember what it was, but I'm sure we had a name. (laughter)

Iki

And what kind of activities?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I think our main activity was to have a dance so we could meet the guys. (laughter)

Iki

So when you would have these block dances, did people from all the different blocks come?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I'm sure they did. I don't know where we got our equipment, you know. We must [have] had a record player sent and so forth. But it was— that part was fun.

Iki

So were you a good dancer?

Esther Nishio

Probably. (laughter) Who knows? (laughter)

Iki

That's great. And you also starred in a theatre group?

Esther Nishio

Well, I can't [think of] the name of this silly play, but I think we were a hillbilly family, and I was grandma. (laughter)

Iki

Who wrote the play?

Esther Nishio

I don't know. (laughter)

Iki

Did you have only one production?

---

Esther Nishio

That was it! (laughter)

Iki

What else did you do?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember. (laughter)

Iki

I know some teenagers were involved in a lot in letter writing. Once a lot of the boys went off to the war, they became involved in writing letters. Did you do anything like that?

Esther Nishio

Right, I don't remember. I know that Aki and I wanted to join the war effort, and so we were planning to sign up for the nurse's cadet corp. And our parents voted it down, so we didn't get to go.

Iki

Your parents didn't let you join?

Esther Nishio

No. They hardly ever said, no. But that was one time that they put their foot down.

Iki

What was that discussion like?

Esther Nishio

Well, we were— we wanted to help the war effort and we thought if we became nurses we would be, you know, helping our servicemen. It was a training program for the nursing program, army nurses, but our parents wouldn't let us go. Thank goodness.

Iki

How did you feel about that, at that time?

Esther Nishio

Oh, we were very disappointed.

Iki

So you eventually went to Boulder, and you were working there for a little while? So you had to apply— did you have to apply for leave clearance?

Esther Nishio

Uhm, yes. Well, they would give us passes to leave camp to attend school, I think, at that time.

Iki

Was it easy for you to obtain clearance to leave?

Esther Nishio

It must have been. I don't think there was any problem. Just so long as you didn't go back to the Western Defense Command

[area]. [If] you went east, there was no problem.

---

Iki

Do you remember what kind of process you had to go through in order to obtain leave clearance?

Esther Nishio

No, I think you had to go to the administration office and fill out the required documents.

Iki

Were you anxious to leave the camp?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh. I think we all were very anxious to be doing something other than, you know, sitting in camp. So I think a lot of students were able to go to school. Others joined the, you know, the young men were volunteering for the 442^nd.

Iki

So were you in contact at all with the National Japanese American Student Relocation Council?

Esther Nishio

No, I wasn't.

Iki

Okay. So how did you decide to go to the University of Colorado?

Esther Nishio

Well, I think it was the closest one. They had a Japanese language school for the armed forces at the university. And one of our former employees in Venice was an instructor there. So that's why he suggested that I go to school at the University of Colorado.

Iki

Do you remember what it was like when you first left and went to Boulder?

Esther Nishio

A sense of freedom. The university was in Boulder, Colorado, which was a lovely college town sitting in the Rocky Mountains—beautiful setting. But I found a job there as a schoolgirl. I hated housework and it was (laughter) quite an experience. I worked for a doctor and his wife in a two-story mansion. I cleaned house upstairs, downstairs, did all their laundry and ironing, canning and cooking. And for someone who despised housework, it was quite an experience! (laughter)

Iki

And how did you find this family?

---

Esther Nishio

Well, the friend who was an instructor at the school. I asked the head of the language school if he knew— if he could find a place for me. And this is a job [that] was offered.

Iki

What was the family like?

Esther Nishio

Oh, they were a very nice Caucasian family, very frugal. I learned how you can save pennies by really being careful with your supplies. But I remember that one day I was rushing outside and I cut my leg on a sprinkler, water sprinkler—lawn sprinkler. And it gave— and it cut a gash about so big. And being a dentist, he took me to his office, and sewed it up without any anesthesia, and brought me home. I still have that scar today.

Iki

Did they do a lot of entertaining?

Esther Nishio

Yes, they did. So I was always busy cleaning. I had to wear a pretty little apron (laughter) and cook and then serve and then do the dishes. (laughter)

Iki

Well my grandmother would tell me stories about when she worked at a house. She also had to dress up in a kimono and serve tea and everything. Did you have to do that?

Esther Nishio

Oh my goodness. No, I didn't have a kimono. They probably would have asked me to wear it. (laughter)

Iki

So you were going to the University of Colorado?

Esther Nishio

No, I never got in, because I didn't establish residence. I had— I came back to camp before I had completed my residency requirement.

Iki

How long would you have had to stay?

Esther Nishio

A year.

Iki

So your father wrote to you?

Esther Nishio

Came after me—no, he came after me and asked me to come back.

Iki

He actually came?

Esther Nishio

Yeah, he actually came back and came up to Boulder and [then] brought me to camp.

Iki

How did you feel about it?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I was okay. I wanted to see my folks, too.

---

Iki

What did he say to you when he came?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember. (laughter)

Iki

So you returned to Granada and you started working at the newspaper? And you said you had a column?

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Iki

Can you tell me a little bit about the column?

Esther Nishio

No. I just wrote about happenings, I think. I have no idea what I wrote. (laughter)

Iki

Oh. I'm going to have to look that up and see what you wrote.

Esther Nishio

Probably, very embarrassing. (laughter).

Iki

How did you come up with the idea for Ama-chan?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I always liked to draw ever since I was a little girl. So I just doodled one day and came up with this little girl and showed it to the editor. And he said, "Oh, why don't we put it in the paper?" So that's how it happened.

Iki

And what kind of things did Ama-chan do?

Esther Nishio

Oh, little things, mischievous things that she [and the] camp kids would like to do—not very exciting. (laughter)

Iki

And how long were you working at that paper?

Esther Nishio

Well, I don't remember. When I came back from Colorado Springs, I mean Boulder, I'm sorry— Boulder— and [was there] until I left for Pasadena. So I left for Pasadena in September 1944.

Iki

You probably came back from Colorado in '43?

Esther Nishio

No, '44.

Iki

It was already '44.

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

Do you have any other significant recollections of your days spent in Granada?

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Esther Nishio

No, I wish I did. I've repressed it so long that perhaps one of these days I will remember all happenings but—

Iki

Did it take you awhile before you began to think about it?

Esther Nishio

Yes. That's true. I haven't wanted to remember the past too much. People would ask me, why don't you want to tell us what happened? And I would say, "No, I don't want to talk about it." And it's funny. I heard a tape that Mr. Hugh Anderson

did in 1994. I guess his name will come out later.

[On the tape] he's talking to this fellow named Shig Takeyama from Pasadena, and they were talking about me. And they were saying, "She's such a private person. It's a shame isn't it? Maybe what she can do is write about herself and when she dies we can read about her experience!" (laughter) It was so funny! (laughter)

Iki

Oh, my gosh—so people have asked you at different times?

Esther Nishio

Through the years they've asked if I— if they could interview me because of what happened in Pasadena, and I said, "No, I don't want to talk about it." But this time I felt that I owed it to you and perhaps before I get too senile [when] I can't remember anything. (laughter)

Iki

We are sort of getting to the point where I want to really start talking to you about when you leave camp and go to Pasadena. So maybe we can break for lunch right now, and we can pick it up after lunch?

Esther Nishio

Swell! Thank you!

Iki

Thank you!

[Lunch break. A meal is prepared by Mrs. Nishio for Darcie Iki, Sojin Kim, and the Nishios].

Iki

Okay, well, we are back from lunch. Thank you very much.

Esther Nishio

You survived my cooking! (laughter)

Iki

(laughter) It was great! What I want to do now is talk a little about your experiences leaving camp and coming back to the West Coast and attending Pasadena City College. So can you tell me when you first started thinking about coming back?

---

Esther Nishio

Well, I'm not sure when the date was. It was— I think it was probably the summer of '44 when Mr. Hugh Anderson, who was a family friend, came to visit us. Apparently, he and another gentleman named Mr. William Carr,

who was a real estate broker in Pasadena, had talked about bringing someone back to go to school in the Western Defense Command [area], and somehow break the impasse so that others could come also. So Mr. Anderson knew of me, he came to our camp.

Iki

How did you know Mr. Anderson?

Esther Nishio

Well, Mr. Anderson was a school friend of one of our employees in Venice, Mr. James Yoshida. And Mr. Yoshida was from a quite a very nice family in Japan, and he had come to Los Angeles to attend college. While he was going to school at Pasadena City College, he and Mr. Anderson became very close friends. Since Mr. Yoshida was working for us just before the war while he was going to school, he and Mr. Anderson helped us store our furnishings during the war. So Mr. Anderson kept all of our furniture and clothing and things like that for us during the war.

But Mr. Anderson and Mr. Carr, the real estate broker, were very concerned about the plight of the Japanese Americans, and they organized this committee they called Friends of the American Way. It was comprised mostly of Quakers in Pasadena. And Mr. Carr and Mr. Anderson thought of the— [they] proposed having a student from one of the camps return to California as a sort of a test case. [They wanted] to see if they could convince the commander of the Western Defense Command that it was safe now for all the Japanese Americans and their parents to come back during the war. Mr. Anderson decided that he would come to visit me, since we were friends, and that's how it all came about.

Iki

So he came to visit you at camp?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm. Yes.

Iki

And how did he bring the subject up or how did he propose the idea?

Esther Nishio

Well, he told us about the Friends of the American Way, and how they had been working towards this end, you know, to get people to come— to return to their homes. And he wondered if I would be interested in being a test case and come back to attend a school in Pasadena, and see if something good might come out of it.

Iki

So what was your initial reaction to this?

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Esther Nishio

Well, I thought it was a wonderful opportunity, you know, and [I] hadn't gotten to school at Colorado. And I thought it would be great to come back to California, you know, and try it there.

Iki

Did you have any reservations about being this test case?

Esther Nishio

No, I think I was young enough not to be worried about anything bad. It was just very exciting and challenging.

Iki

How did you finally decide? I mean, did you jump at the chance to go, or did you take some time to think about it?

Esther Nishio

Well, it didn't take very long. My parents and I talked it over, and they agreed that it would be something good, you know something that we should try. So we told Mr. Anderson that we were willing to go along with his idea. And he returned to Pasadena and he and Mr. Carr approached General Bonesteel,

who was the commander of the Western Defense Command. They talked it over and according to the notes that I have of Mr. Anderson's autobiography, General Bonesteel— he had been thinking about how soon the Japanese Americans would be allowed to return. And he was willing to go ahead and try it. So I don't recall how I received the pass to come back, but I was allowed to return to California in September and I arrived in Pasadena on Mr. Anderson's birthday, which was September 12, 1944.

Iki

Do you remember, I guess, what it was like to leave camp and leave your family and your friends?

Esther Nishio

Oh, it was kind of sad, you know, leaving all of our friends and my parents. But I didn't think it would be too long before I saw them again, you know. And I was going to stay with friends in Pasadena, so it was not that frightening. Now on the train trip I recall that I was kind of worried, you know, about traveling by myself on the train. But there were servicemen, and they were very kind to me. All the other passengers didn't seem to mind that I was an Asian, you know, amongst them.

Iki

So what was it like when you first arrived?

Esther Nishio

Well, I arrived during— I think it was in the afternoon of the twelfth. I was met at the train [station] by students from Pasadena City College. They were mostly members of the Student Christian Association. Their advisor, Mr. Walt Raitt,

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and Mr. Anderson and his family were there, and the editor of the school paper was also there. So they gave me a very warm welcome.

Iki

Were there a lot of other people as well in terms of the press or— ?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't believe there was any press there at that time. That didn't happen until the next day when the editor of the school paper went to the city newspapers, because they had a scoop, you know, news that there was a Japanese American in their midst. That's how the other papers got hold of the story.

Iki

So what happens on your first night in Pasadena?

Esther Nishio

I believe it was the first day I was taken to the police station and fingerprinted, and a mug shot taken. And I understand that when the other students from Gila

came to attend our school in January of the following year, they also [had] mug shots and [were] fingerprinted.

Iki

Well, what was that like for you?

Esther Nishio

It was sort of humiliating, you know—not something that an ordinary citizen had to do.

Iki

Did Mr. Anderson and his family go with you?

Esther Nishio

Yes, of course. And they took me to their beautiful home and made me comfortable.

Iki

It must have been nice, then, somebody you were familiar with.

Esther Nishio

Oh, yes, it was really great! I really appreciate what that family did for all of us.

Iki

The first night you are back, how were you feeling? Are you excited?

Esther Nishio

Well, I was basking in the warmth of being back in my home state. You know, it was so nice feeling the freedom of being able to go wherever you wished. It was great!

Iki

So did you go to school the next day?

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Esther Nishio

Well, I probably went there to meet the principal, Dr. John Harbeson. He welcomed me to the school, and I registered for classes and started school.

Iki

What was the reception of the people on campus, and the students?

Esther Nishio

Oh, the students were all very good to me. They were very friendly and [I] made some very close friends while I was there.

Iki

Were they aware at that time that you were the first student to come back?

Esther Nishio

Well according to what I've read, I think the student body was polled and the faculty was also asked on what they thought about someone coming back from the camp. And they all went ahead with the idea. They voted for my return.

Iki

I wonder if they have all of that in school records?

Esther Nishio

I don't know. I have no idea.

Iki

It would be interesting to take a look at it.

Esther Nishio

I didn't know about this, but I was reading Mr. Anderson autobiography, I came across that. Apparently, he checked with General Bonesteel, and he said he was willing to go ahead with the plan. And I believe he checked with the school board and with the school itself, and they all said, "Let's try it."

The plan was for me to attend school quietly, and see how I integrated with the student body and with the community. If all went well, then they would let the news leak out that a Japanese American had returned to California and that there were no problems, therefore, that all the others who had been chased out could return to their homes.

Iki

So what happens after the first day?

Esther Nishio

Well, I can't recall how soon it was, but the news about my return leaked out to the city newspapers, and then all the patriotic organizations protested. And there was one gentleman, in particular, who kind of acted as the leader of the opposition. They marched down [to] the school board and demanded that I leave. And I guess there were all sorts of protest. Citizens spoke for and against a Japanese American being back.

Iki

Were you aware of all the controversy that was surrounding you?

Esther Nishio

Oh yes, and I was in the papers and so forth, but I didn't actually see [any] of the meetings at the school board because I was in class.

Iki

But you were reading the papers and reading all—

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Esther Nishio

Yes. And I don't think they would be doing it now, but while I was in school, the school allowed the reporters to come on campus and interview me which was kind of disturbing, you know.

Iki

So you were interviewed by some of the other newspapers?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm, all by the local press.

Iki

What was that like?

Esther Nishio

Well, they asked you what it was like to be back, and why I came back, and what am I doing here, and so forth. And the thing that bothered me and, I guess, bothers other minority groups even now is that they can't differentiate between an American citizen of another ethnic ancestry, and someone who is actually an immigrant from another country. There is no attempt to differentiate between citizens and aliens.

Iki

So were most of the reporters friendly, or supportive, or were they antagonistic?

Esther Nishio

Oh they were, they were reporters so they, you know, tried to get news.

Iki

Uh huh. So how did you feel they treated you?

Esther Nishio

Well it was— it got to be kind of irksome after awhile because, you know, they pulled me out of class, and I really had nothing to say to them. I remember one reporter. Since I couldn't think of anything further to say to them, [he said], "Why don't you put your hand up like this?" (lifts hand to forehead) So I did, and then the picture appeared in the newspaper saying she was, you know, having a headache over the goings on or something stupid like that? (laughter)

Iki

(laughs) Oh, those journalists. I know that you were reading about some of these groups that were protesting your return, did you have any personal encounters with people— ?

Esther Nishio

Oh, on the street, but not too many. None of the actual organization members, you know. Organizations like the American Legion, Daughters of the American Revolution, Sons and Daughters of the Golden West, that sort of organization would all protest my return. But I never ran into anyone in particular. But I did run into ordinary citizens, and they would spit at me or call me "Jap" or something in that order. But my friends would ask them, "Why are you doing that?" They would say because— well one person said, "Well, when I went to a vegetable stand before the war and bought cauliflower or something, it made me sick!" It was very stupid! So it was just ignorance.

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And there was one little old lady, in particular, who[m] I would run into at the bus stop. She would always call me, "Jap", and [say,] "Get out of here!" And one day she slapped me. One of my school friends said, "Why did you [do] that!" She said, "Because she's a Jap!" And he said, "Well, she's a better American than you are!" So there were people who stood up for you. And I understand that the other girls who came after me to school had the same experience. Some people would stare at them, call them names, and slap them. One girl said she even received a threatening phone call. So I guess things still hadn't settled down yet

Iki

So about how long do you think the controversy continued after you first— ?

Esther Nishio

Well, I'm not sure. It didn't last too long, maybe a month or so. And there were letters pro and con, and a lot of servicemen would write to me and they would encourage me. I understand that when the American Legion was in Glendale it announced that they would march on Pasadena and protest. The Pasadena American Legion ordered them to stay away because their veterans— some of them had served in the Pacific— and they said they had fought for the rights of people like us. And they didn't want anybody interfering with citizen's rights.

Iki

And this is the Pasadena American Legion?

Esther Nishio

Um hm. Well they were against my returning at the beginning but I think, after all this controversy, they came to realize that they were fighting the wrong war. I guess when things were really hot and heavy, students who had been in the South Pacific that returned to school were in an organization called the Amvets. And they kind of acted as a— not an honor guard, but they would escort me from class to class just to be sure that I was safe during that time.

Iki

Mmm. That's amazing.

Esther Nishio

Mmhm. And, I guess, during that time Mr. Anderson's family had received many threatening calls. One of the papers in Pasadena had apparently printed their home address in every issue. So there would be streams of cars driving past their home to catch a glimpse of me, or Mr. Anderson's family, and so they had a very rough time. Dr. Harbeson, who was the principal of the school, also received threatening calls. According to Mr. Anderson, Dr. Harbeson called one night [and said] that he received a bomb threat, and would I please— would he please ask Esther Takei to leave Pasadena, and go to Nebraska to attend school. He said, "I'll arrange it so they'll accept her there."

Iki

This is what Mr. Harbeson said?

---

Esther Nishio

Dr. Harbeson asked Mr. Anderson. And so during that period, I guess when it was really bad, Mr. Anderson had his family visit relatives in another city. I stayed with another family [that] happened to be Mr. Walt Raitt's family. He was the advisor of the Student Christian Association. So I stayed with him for about five to 10 days, during the worst time.

Iki

So what is this like for you? You're nineteen years old and all of this is happening all around you? And, I mean it must have been such an adjustment on so many different levels?

Esther Nishio

Well, I can't remember exactly, but it must have been difficult to study and go to school. (laughter) It was interesting reading the articles and seeing how they would argue about having someone like me coming back, because they would consider me an alien. And it took servicemen to point out that there is a difference. [They pointed out] that they were treating an American citizen in a very terrible way, and they were fighting for all citizens. They were trying to protect the rights of people like us to, you know, go to school where they wanted to go to school.

Iki

That's really great. I mean that's really amazing, because at the same time, there were veterans in other parts of the country who had a completely opposite reaction to the situation.

Esther Nishio

I was really impressed. Because a lot of these servicemen had served, or were serving, in the South Pacific— fighting the Japanese. Yet they were standing up for my rights. And I thought that was so wonderful. I don't remember their names, but lots of servicemen would read about my story. They would either call the Anderson family to see how I was doing, or they would hitch a ride and come to visit me, to protect me. They thought I was being overrun by all these protesters. They were really great!

Iki

Can you tell more about that one young soldier?

Esther Nishio

Well, there was one gentleman who decided he was going to come and rescue me, and so he hopped on a train. I thought he was from the Midwest, but he was from the East Coast, and he came all the way to LA. I met him at the Union Station, and I reassured him that I was fine. I took him to lunch at Philippes

for a beef dip sandwich, and put him back on the train, and he went home. (laughter)

Iki

How did you know he was coming? He had written you?

Esther Nishio

Well, I think he had either written or called me, so we had this date. And then another gentleman that I didn't get to meet was stationed up [in] northern or

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central California, along the coast. I forgot the name of the station, but he hitchhiked all night and came to Pasadena. Since I was asleep, he met Mr. Anderson. Mr. Anderson reassured him that I was fine, and he hitchhiked his way home again. So there were soldiers like that who really believed in protecting the rights of American citizens. I was so lucky that they were like that!

Iki

And these are— are these Japanese Americans?

Esther Nishio

No, these were Caucasian soldiers. And then, also, I met a lot of 442^nd soldiers who had been wounded and were recuperating at a hospital in Pasadena. It was formerly a very ritzy hotel called the Vista Del Arroyo Hotel, right by the Colorado Street Bridge, but they had converted it into an army hospital. So we would go visit these soldiers there. And there were other soldiers who had been wounded and were recuperating. I think they were from Palm Springs or somewhere in that area. They would come to town to see me and encourage me, and then I would, you know, try to take them to see a movie or something while they were in Pasadena.

Iki

Well that must have been incredibly encouraging for you to have all these people—

Esther Nishio

Well, it was uplifting, really, to learn of the human spirit and how people will help you. There were so many people who were so brave. You know, during the war, it was not popular to be pro-Japanese or pro-Japanese American. Yet Mr. Anderson and Mr. Carr who had founded The Friends and the American Way and their group— I think they had about twenty members— they went against public opinion to help the Japanese Americans. And they, I understand wrote letters to all the former Pasadena Japanese families in all the camps and offered to send them whatever they needed. [It was] just to let them know and they would provide it.

And, you know, they did things like that and they were— when I was having my problems on my return, conscientious objectors would write letters to the editor [of] all the papers in support of my going to school here. So a lot people were so good to me. I've said it before, but when I first returned, the members of the black community were so kind to me, and they made things so easy for me to come back. And the Latino churches were so welcoming. It was really nice. I went to the Pasadena Methodist Church. They had all been so good to us.

Iki

So what types of things did the African-American community do?

Esther Nishio

They would invite me to their potluck suppers and things like that. They made me feel welcome. They were really nice.

Iki

That's so great. Were there other organizations or individuals— ?

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Esther Nishio

The Quakers were very, very cognizant of the plight of the Japanese American, and they were very, very helpful.

Iki

In the days following your return to the West Coast, you mentioned, Mr. Anderson got a lot of phone calls, as well as letters, and people were lining the streets to kind of see you. Were you there at the home at that time?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

Were you aware of the fact that all of these people were— ?

Esther Nishio

Yes, but I stayed inside when, you know, when that was going on.

Iki

Uh huh. So did they try to, I guess, to protect from a lot of things that were going on?

Esther Nishio

Oh yes, uh huh! I never attended the school board meetings when most of the protesting went on, so I didn't come across any adverse action there. They protected me. At the beginning they would drive me to school and drive me home. It wasn't until much later that I used public transportation to go to school.

Iki

And the Student Christian— ?

Esther Nishio

SCA, the Student Christian Association.

Iki

Were they very involved? I know you said that they were there to meet you when you arrived?

Esther Nishio

They were always there if I needed some advice or some help. Some of the girls were very good friends of mine. Also, I didn't mention [it], but the American Civil Liberties Union also came to my support. They were very helpful.

Iki

Was the WRA

involved at all in your resettlement?

Esther Nishio

Well, no, not really. They must have been involved in my return, but I don't recall. It wasn't until my parents returned from camp and we had an apartment that I met Dillon Myer.

But I don't think they were really involved in my experience.

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Iki

So you met Dillon Myer?

Esther Nishio

Yes, I did.

Iki

On what occasion was that?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I think he was visiting Los Angeles or Pasadena, and I guess I was there. I don't know why. (laughter)

Iki

Was this sometime in September, or did you just recently had come back?

Esther Nishio

Oh no, this is much later.

Iki

After the West Coast was open?

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Iki

So I guess in your experience, did you feel that there was more— in terms of the majority of the community in Pasadena, that they were more supportive of your return? Were there was just a few key organizations and individuals?

Esther Nishio

Yes, I think so. Pasadena is a very nice place to live. While there was a lot of discrimination as far as housing and so forth, and jobs, the people themselves were quite nice.

Iki

I know that I was reading in the paper about this one particular man, Mr. George Kelly, who was very vocal and sort of led the "Ban Against Japs" community. You never met him?

Esther Nishio

I don't believe I did, but I met so many people and they would always preface their remark with, "It's nothing personal, you understand, but—" (laughter) I'm sure you've all come across that.

Iki

Well, I thought it was so interesting. Because I was reading the articles and it says— I mean, he was the leading person in protest of your return.

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Iki

Then all of a sudden the next day the paper said he changed his mind.

Esther Nishio

Yes, wasn't it wonderful? He saw the light! (laughter)

Iki

So I mean there must have been something pretty significant that happened—

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Esther Nishio

Well, I think it's because— sorry to interrupt, but I think it's because of the servicemen [who] turned the tide, you know? They all said, "What are we fighting for? Why are you protesting the rights of an American citizen, and we're fighting to protect that and you are going against us. What is this?" And I think that's what finally did the trick. So I owed them a lot. I think we all do.

Iki

So about long does it take for the controversy to subside?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember, but I don't think it took that long, maybe a month or so, maybe longer.

Iki

Were you corresponding with your family at all during this time?

Esther Nishio

I imagine I did. I'm not a very good letter writer, so, perhaps, not too often.

Iki

Uh huh.

Esther Nishio

I remember Christmas Eve. I guess I was feeling kind of lonesome, and so Mr. Anderson, as a special treat [said,] "Why don't we call your parents in camp? So he put through this person-to-person call and, I guess, there is a time difference. It must have been like midnight at camp and they— (chuckles)— the phone wasn't nearby. I think it was quite a distance. It was snowing and cold and in Amache. Dad was dragged out of his warm bed and had to trudge through the snow to wherever the phone was to take to take our call, but it was so nice to talk to him.

Iki

Were you missing them a lot?

Esther Nishio

Oh yes! Uh huh, yeah, my family. (laughter)

Iki

So how is it for you to, sort of, settle into the regular routine of school?

Esther Nishio

Oh, it was kind of hard to get back to studying after all those years being out of school, but it was okay. Took a lot of studying, I guess. And then besides that I was asked by a lot of church groups to come and speak to them about what it was like to be interned in a concentration camp. So I went to visit a lot of the church groups and gave my little talk about what it was like. I joined an inter-racial panel comprised of a Caucasian student, Latino, a black, and myself. And we would tour various colleges and give our own experience. When we visited San Diego State University, I think, I was so disappointed because when I talked about how the entire population of Japanese and Japanese Americans had been ousted out of the West Coast, so many of the students hadn't even heard about this action. They just didn't believe it. So I think it's a good thing that people are talking about it now, so it won't happen again.

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Iki

So did they challenge you or was it that they just couldn't believe that this happened?

Esther Nishio

No, they were just ignorant of the fact that this had happened. And I think it was true of so many people here. They didn't know about it.

Iki

How did you get involved in or come in contact with this panel?

Esther Nishio

I don't remember, but I imagine—

Iki

Through the school?

Esther Nishio

Yeah, through the school.

Iki

What other groups did you have to give public presentations to?

Esther Nishio

I remember one night I was asked to speak before the Pasadena Presbyterian Church, and it was a huge group, just huge! And that time there were some returnees from camp. Ted Tajima and his wife were in the audience somewhere. Two friendly faces I saw, but all the rest were hakujin. And I talked to them about camp. I think I apologized for not having been there last year because I was in a concentration camp. But I went on and on about what life was like. What it was like to be deprived of your rights as a citizen and being treated like a prisoner of war, and what life was like being behind barbed wire and so forth. And [I talked about] the kind of food we had, and what sort of activities we did—[I] explained what it was like to be interned.

Iki

And their response?

Esther Nishio

They thought it was really something.

Iki

Well that's really incredible, that you were doing that, at that time.

Esther Nishio

Oh, I don't think it was incredible, but it was just something we had to do, you know?

Iki

Well, you chose to do it.

Esther Nishio

Well, I was allowed to do [it].

Iki

Uh huh.

Esther Nishio

It's a great privilege, you know.

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Iki

I saw this article that you were involved in a presentation of the honor roll of the veterans? I guess you were doing some kind of public presentation. Do you remember that?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't. (laughter)

Iki

There's a really nice picture of you. Actually I have it in my folder.

Esther Nishio

Oh, really? I do remember meeting Jackie Robinson.

Iki

Really?

Esther Nishio

Yes, it was quite something. I guess we were having our pictures taken in front of the Japanese church in Pasadena. I don't know what it is called, Pasadena Church? Anyway [it was] on Kensington Avenue. And we were having our pictures taken. And this gentleman walked by, and it was Jackie Robinson. So they asked him to come over, and we shook hands. It was such a great honor!

Iki

Did you take any pictures of him?

Esther Nishio

I don't think so. (laughter)

Iki

That's really interesting given that now you are going to be in this 75^th anniversary thing for PCC and Jackie Robinson is one of the other honorees.

Esther Nishio

Yes, I can't believe it! (laughter)

Iki

So you were in Pasadena from mid-September through the end of December. So that would be three and a half months or so before other Japanese Americans came back?

Esther Nishio

That's right. I kind of forgot the exact date, but I think it was mid-December when General Bonesteel rescinded the order, and opened the zone for all returnees.

Iki

Do you remember that?

Esther Nishio

No, I don't.

Iki

Because that was in the press?

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Esther Nishio

Yes it was. Since I repressed all my memories I don't remember. Actually remember my learning about [it], but I'm so glad it happened. And so when I talked to my friend, to try to revive some memories, she said that she had wanted to go to school back East.

She was interned in Gila because, I believe, most of the Pasadena families were there. But her parents said, "No, you can't go back East." No, no, no. But when they learned that I had come back to Pasadena, and the Western Defense Command [area] was open, they said, "You can go back to school in Pasadena. And she said, "Thanks to you, Esther, I got to come back to Pasadena." That made me feel good.

Iki

At that time when they finally made that decision, in December, and started allowing Japanese Americans to come in January. Were you aware, or conscious of the fact, of what you did, in September, really sort of paved the way for Japanese Americans?

Esther Nishio

No, not really. It wasn't until recently that it kind of hit me. But in Mr. Anderson's autobiography, he recorded that General Bonesteel had told him that because of what happened to me in Pasadena, and how well it finally ended, he decided to allow the internees to return a year earlier than he had earlier planned. So it was something that, now that I think about [it], I am very proud of [it]. At the time I didn't really know about it. But I am really happy that it turned out that well.

Iki

How was school for you? You mentioned you had been out of school for a couple of years.

Esther Nishio

Mmhm. It was kind of hard to get back in harness, but the classes were interesting. [I] had some wonderful teachers, and I especially enjoyed geology and journalism and art. It was fun.

Esther Nishio

Mr. Anderson took me to a conscientious objectors camp. I don't remember where it was, but it was probably in the hills somewhere. I remember the bonfire and our dancing around the bonfire and singing. They were so warm and cordial. They were the group that sent encouraging letters to the editor of all the newspapers to help change the attitude towards Japanese Americans returning to California.

Iki

Now you received a number of letters as well, personally.

Esther Nishio

Umhm.

Iki

Can you recall what the contents of some of those letters were?

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Esther Nishio

Most of them were very nice and encouraging. Some asked if I could translate something in Japanese for them. And you know I couldn't read a word of Japanese to save my soul. (laughter) But they were all, you know— they said they were glad that I had come back, and some even, I guess, sent cash to help me.

Iki

So these were from a variety of different people?

Esther Nishio

Yes, all sorts of citizens, schoolteachers, church people, and ordinary citizens and servicemen.

Iki

Were you receiving any letters from Japanese Americans who were in camp?

Esther Nishio

No one from camp wrote to me, I don't believe.

Iki

I wonder if they were aware of— ?

Esther Nishio

I'm not sure. I know my own camp was aware of it. I know that my friend who came back to Pasadena in January said that she was receiving the Pasadena newspaper while she was in Gila. They kept track of all the activity during that time.

Iki

They must have been reporting about it back in camp, the camp newspapers.

Esther Nishio

I don't know, possibly.

Iki

We should go to check that out. This is a copy that you have in your collection of a letter you received on September 23^rd. I was wondering if you could read it, so we could get a sense of some of the letters you were receiving.

Esther Nishio

Surely. My eyes are really bad, so I have to take off my glasses and hold [it] like this. I'll try not to rattle the paper too much. (laughter) So, excuse me while I do that. Okay, let's see.

Esther Nishio

[narrator reads letter] It's marked "confidential" underlined. And it says, "Copy of letter received September 23^rd, l944. Ms. Esther Takei, Pasadena Junior College, Pasadena, California."

"Dear Ms. Takei, I am on a night watch at this moment and can find no other paper on which to write than this scratch pad. I am sure you will not mind. I have just read in tonight's paper of the attempts being made by, no doubt sincere but, misguided Pasadena citizens to deprive you of your constitutional rights in the matter of your attendance at PJC. I note that great stress is laid in this newspaper account on the somewhat irrelevant fact that many of those persons interested in your banishment have "relatives in the armed services." And I am impelled, therefore, to write you like this in order to speak for the armed forces

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myself. I am, of course, not empowered to speak for anyone but myself, but I surely have at least as much justification to speak for the services as do people who do not wear the uniforms at all. This is what I wish to say."

"We, in the service, are aware that war is being waged not only upon us as a people, but also upon our form of government, our democracy. We are, therefore, defending not only our geographical boundaries, but our ideals as well. The attack upon our ideals moreover, is not confined to military theatres alone, but is worldwide, and occurs daily within the United States itself."

"It is of little consequence that the attack is often made by well meaning citizens who do not realize what it is that they do. Indeed, such an attack upon a American constitutional government and a Constitution guarantee personal rights is quite apt to be the most dangerous and hard to parry off all attacks."

"Such is the case in Pasadena, I believe. Therefore, I hope and write to you to express the hope that you will be of good cheer and stand fast in your own little battle zone. Your importance as a person is nothing. In a larger sense your importance as an example of what can be done or also cannot be done to an American citizen. With my very best wishes, I remain your friend."—his name is blocked out. "Chief Yeoman, USNR." (tears well up in Esther Nishio's eyes)

So this is the first time I read this since 1944, but I think it's a wonderful letter, and that's the sort of feeling that I received from all the soldiers who contacted me. Thank you for allowing me to read it again.

Iki

That was great! That was really great. I'm just sort of imagining him.

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Kim

Did that come directly to you or was it forwarded to you?

Esther Nishio

Well, it was probably sent to the school, and they gave it to me.

Iki

Yeah, I think it was just mailed directly to the school, in care of Esther Takei.

Esther Nishio

Um hm.

Kim

Why would they have blocked out his name?

Iki

Yeah, this one is blocked out, too. I don't know. Huh? Well, actually this must be a copy of it. Because he is saying that he is writing the letter on scratch paper.

Esther Nishio

There is a letter, handwritten letter, remember? Perhaps, that was typed out because it was hard to read.

---

Iki

So that was a really incredible letter.

Esther Nishio

It was, it was wonderful.

DIIt must have been really, really important for you to receive those types of letters, in the midst of everything else that was going on.

Esther Nishio

It's hard to imagine, you know, soldiers taking the time to write letters like that while they were serving.

Iki

So you, sort of, settled into trying to get back into your studies? Meanwhile things were changing in terms of the War Department's policies and eventually the West Coast is again open in January of 1945. So what happens, I guess, after the West Coast opens and Japanese Americans start coming back to the West Coast.

Esther Nishio

Yes. And so there were more and more students of Japanese American ancestry who attended Pasadena City College.

Iki

Was that a big relief for you?

Esther Nishio

Oh, it was nice to see my own kind again. (laughs)

Iki

So what happens to your family? They were still in camp?

Esther Nishio

They are still in camp. I can't recall when they came back, but it might have been '45 or possibly '47— maybe '45. They might have come back some time towards the end of '45. And Mr. Anderson and Mr. Carr found an apartment for us, so then we all moved in together. It happened to be a rooming house right next door to the Pasadena Civic Auditorium.

Iki

So they don't come back until the end of 1945?

Esther Nishio

Well, I'm not sure exactly when that was, but it wasn't that late.

Iki

They don't come back right away?

Esther Nishio

Well, they couldn't until it was opened. They actually returned to California in the spring of 1945. Oh I didn't mention that during all this furor, there was a gentleman. He was in the public health service. He was an ophthalmologist for the— he was public health service and his name was Dr. Harold Alexander. He befriended all the Nisei students at Pasadena College, and he broke the door down to let us go to places that were not open to us. I recall he took us many times to attend concerts at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium.

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And this friend who came to Pasadena from Gila said he would take her to a Pasadena city dance that was held in the auditorium, in their ballroom. She said— she told him, "I can't go there with you. I'm not allowed to go in. They don't allow Japanese to go in there." He said, "Never mind. I've got my uniform on. You're with me, we're going in." She said that he took her in there and they went dancing. He did things like that and opened the doors for us.

And apparently, he gave free eye examinations to all the Nihonjin [Japanese] that he knew of when they came back from camp. And there is also another Pasadena citizen who owned a men's haberdashery on Colorado Street, you know, the main drag. He befriended us and took us in and . . . like a family friend. He was so good to us. So there were lots of people who braved the barb so to speak, and acted like friends even though we were strangers.

Iki

That's so great. Really, it is kind of amazing if you think about that time period?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh! We didn't talk about it, but Mr. Anderson went to Poston

to work for the government. I think he was like an accounting department head. I think he helped set up the credit union, something like that. So he and his entire family lived in Poston for several months.

Iki

So for most of your time there, you were staying with the Andersons?

Esther Nishio

Yes!

Iki

Did they have children?

Esther Nishio

Yes, they had a son, Richard, and a daughter, let's see, I can't remember. They had a large family. Two— one boy and three girls, and the youngest daughter was named Susan Aiko. She was named Aiko after Paul Igasaki's family.

Iki

Really?

Esther Nishio

Mrs. Igasaki, her name was Aiko. He was a Nisei attorney that we all knew.

Iki

Can you recall some of the times that you spent with them, while you were living there?

Esther Nishio

Well, we had a pleasant ordinary life there. I remember one occasion when they had a special treat for dinner. He brought home some fresh shrimp and he was going to have his wife, Emalena, make shrimp tempura. But bragger that I was,

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I said, "Oh, let me do it. I know how to make shrimp tempura!" I made the batter, but I guess I didn't know what I was doing. It was terrible, you know, it was a rock! (laughter) But they were so sweet. They were really nice.

Iki

So you think that your family, probably, came back later, in 1945?

Esther Nishio

Probably, yes.

Iki

You were lucky enough that Mr. Anderson and Mr. Carr helped find housing.

Esther Nishio

Place to live, right! Housing was very short in those days. It was very difficult to find a place to live. So Mr. Carr, being a real estate broker, aided all the returning families, I understand, to find places to live. There was— what do you call [it] Shig? [directs question to husband] A restrictive covenant, where people of color or, so forth were not allowed to purchase a home in certain areas. And he tried to break that color line also in his career.

Iki

But you lived in an area that didn't have restrictive covenants?

Esther Nishio

Well, we happened to be right in downtown, but when my friend came back from Gila, she said that Mr. Carr offered to sell them a home in Linda Vista, which is a very uppity, high class neighborhood, and there were no Nihonjin there. But they said, "No way, we can't afford it." But at that time, because of the restrictive covenants, all the minorities people, whether you were black or Hispanic or Asian had to live on the west side of town. I don't think you could purchase a home beyond Lake Avenue, which is sort of in the center of Pasadena.

Iki

So what were some of the social activities you were involved in while you were going to Pasadena City College?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I can't remember. (laughter) I remember we had to take part in the annual Rose Tournament, you know, [the] queen contest. All the students had to go through that. I didn't make [it]! (laughter)

Iki

What do you mean all the students had to go through that?

Esther Nishio

The Tournament of Roses

is the Pasadena event, and Pasadena College women students all had to participate in the contest for queen.

---

Iki

Everyone?

Esther Nishio

All the students! Yes! Every single one of us! (laughter) But we took part in the geology, what do you call it, when you go off to— on trips, geology trips. We went to Red Rock Canyon, I recall, on a camping trip and took our sleeping bag, and slept out there in the desert. Well, and they said, "Go potty now, and go find a place to potty, and then we'll get together to go on a hike. And I kept looking and looking, looking for a big rock [but] I couldn't find one. I finally found something, and all these students were coming towards me so I didn't go! (laughter)

Iki

Were you involved in, I guess in earlier times, in high school?

Esther Nishio

Pardon me?

Iki

Were you involved in a lot of dances and things like that. Did they have those kinds of things at PCC as well?

Esther Nishio

I don't think I went to any dances at school, but once we had a lot of returnees from camps, the Nisei would get together and have our own dance party like at the YMCA or YWCA, maybe once every few months or so.

Iki

And those you attended?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh huh.

Iki

So were they having dances at PCC, and you just didn't go?

Esther Nishio

I'm sure they did but I didn't go. No.

Iki

Is there any particular reason why?

Esther Nishio

I don't recall, probably because I didn't have a boyfriend. (laughter) I remember they had a fashion show, and I took part in that. That was one of the activities I remember.

Iki

So what was it like for you, when your parents finally come back?

Esther Nishio

Oh well, when my parents came back, they didn't have their business any more. That was gone. So my dad went to the hostel where all the Issei were. Most of the Issei were staying [there]. All the men were apparently learning how to be gardeners, because that was one job that was easy to find. So my dad bought a few [things], like a trowel, and things like that, and boarded the bus and went to his different jobs.

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My mother took jobs as a house cleaning lady. She'd board the bus and go to these homes and clean houses for a while. And then because she was a very proficient seamstress, she learned how to operate the power machine. She went to work in garment factories after a while. Later on, my dad and some other Pasadena Issei formed a— founded the Rose Frozen Shrimp Company. I believe it was the first frozen food company operated by Issei. I'm not sure whether it is still going on to this day.

Iki

What was it called?

Esther Nishio

Originally, it was called Rose Frozen Shrimp Company. It was a big operation. They sold frozen seafood to all the markets.

Iki

So what kind of impact do you think the whole camp experience had on your parents?

Esther Nishio

Well, they were very resilient, and they bounced back. I'm sure most of the Issei did. You know, they endured really hard times, and I feel for them. But they didn't let it get them down. They were very positive. My dad— he must have been quite an entrepreneur because he wanted to me to go real estate class and become a real estate broker— and he would act as my salesman. So I went to real estate school, but I really didn't have my heart in it. So I never followed through and got my license so my dad—

Esther Nishio

— he would have been wonderful at it, and he probably would have died a rich man. (laughter)

Iki

So how long did you stay at Pasadena City College?

Esther Nishio

I think I was in the last half, [the] last semester of my senior year and I just couldn't continue going to school anymore, because I could see how hard my parents were working. I wasn't really helping out, you know. If I were smart, I probably would have finished school and gone on into, you know, higher learning, but I decided to leave Pasadena City College. And I can't remember exactly what month it was.

I went to the Sawyer School of Business, and I took classes just long enough to learn secretarial skills like typing, stenography, and accounting. And [then] I went looking for a job. So I went to all the openings I saw in the paper in Pasadena, but I was turned down at every point. So I finally found a job in Los

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Angeles in the Flower District, you know the Garment District. Well, I guess for the Flower District. And I worked for a war surplus outfit for a few months.

Iki

Can you describe in a little more in detail your experiences, in terms of trying to find a job?

Esther Nishio

Well, I would answer these ads that I would see in the paper for a secretary in the Pasadena paper. I would go for an interview and I'd be told, "Oh, we just filled that opening, so sorry." And that happened so many times. So then I looked at the LA papers, I guess I went to an employment agency. And I was sent to an insurance company, the first one. They were very kind, but my typing was so messy I wasn't hired! (laughter) So, [for] the next job, they sent me to was this war surplus firm on Wall Street, and they hired me. So I worked there until I got married to Shig.

Iki

I know you met him initially in Santa Anita. How did you get together?

Esther Nishio

Get together? (laughter) Well, I was living— my parents had built a home in Pasadena, on Mentone Avenue.

Iki

What year was this?

Esther Nishio

Let's see, probably 1946.

Iki

1946, they built a home?

Esther Nishio

Yes.

Iki

Wow!

Esther Nishio

Was that '45 or [194— ]? I'm not sure. It was not too long after they came back. So I was going to work at the time at this war surplus store and Shig called one day— Shig Nishio. He said, "Remember me? I met you in Santa Anita." And I thought, "Oh sure, he was so cute, you know!" (laughter) I said, "Of course I remember you!" And he said, "Can I come to see you?" So I said, "Sure!" (laughs)

So he and his two buddies came over one afternoon. We got acquainted again, reacquainted. He asked me for a date. (laughs and turns to her husband) Shig, what did we do, we were going to a dance? No? He was going to take me somewhere, to the beach or something. So I bought new pedal pushers and new tennis shoes or whatever, and we went out. It was a lot of fun. I think we went

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to Ocean Park Pier. And it was— I was just swooning! (laughter) He was so cute and so nice. And so that was it for me! (laughter)

Iki

So what was it about him?

Esther Nishio

Oh, I thought he was so handsome. He was so sweet and so gentle and just so caring. And he was just a nice guy! Couldn't be nicer.

Iki

So what happened after that, after your first date?

Esther Nishio

Oh, we tried to get together every Saturday, but you know, some weekends he was busy. He was supposed to be drafted shortly, but fortunately the draft was over. The war was over just before he had to go in. We got married the following year, 1947, I guess.

Iki

And where did you get married?

Esther Nishio

Well, we wanted to get married at the church in Pasadena, but we had so many friends and relatives that we wanted to invite that we got married at St. Mary's Episcopal Church in L.A.

Kim

What street is that on?

Esther Nishio

I'm not sure. The Elder Reverend Yamazaki is the one who married us.

Iki

It's in Koreatown?

Esther Nishio

Oh is it Koreatown now? Oh.

Iki

I think so. It used to be called Uptown in that area?

Esther Nishio

I don't know what it was called.

Iki

Uptown, it's a largely Japanese American community.

Esther Nishio

Really? I remember— we— I was in a women's club, you know, Nisei. We called ourselves "Pasonas."

Iki

Pasonas?

Esther Nishio

Yes, I invented the name. It was "Pasadena-onna, "

(laughter) but we shortened it to Pasonas. (laughter) And no one knew what it meant, just us. (laughter)

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But anyway it was the first wedding in our group. So it was kind of, you know, wow, how do you do this? How do you have a wedding, you know? (laughter) So the poor girls made all the refreshments for my reception. They all had tea sandwiches and things.

And Shig and I just loved this punch that Curry's Ice Cream store had. It was like a frozen slurpy, and so that's what we were going to serve for the reception: the tea sandwiches and the slurpy kind of punch. So we had our wedding at the church. [The] reception at the church [was] in whatever the room was. We served our frozen punch, but people who took care of the reception didn't realize it was supposed to be frozen, and they had melted it! (laughter) It was so funny.

Iki

How did he propose to you?

Esther Nishio

Oh. Let me check first. [Esther asks her husband, Shig] "Is it all right, to tell them?" (laughter) It was Christmas Eve of 1946, and we had gone to a movie, I think, in Hollywood and we had parked in front of the house. We were smooching. (laughter) And he popped the question. I forget the exact words. But he said, "I know you have three strikes against you, but would you like to get married?" I think the three strikes were that he was a farmer boy and I was the city girl, and I don't what the other two strikes were. (laughter) But that was it. So that was Christmas Eve of '46. We got married the following year.

Iki

Oh, that's wonderful, and that's such a great story. (laughter) Most— a lot of interviews that I do, they don't I really like to talk about— (laughter)

Esther Nishio

Well, all the family secrets are out. (laughter)

Iki

That's not that big a secret.

Kim

Where was Shig living at that time?

Esther Nishio

In Whittier, California.

You should come talk to us, hon.

Shig Nishio

On the farm.

Iki

You were working on the farm?

Esther Nishio

Yes, my brother's farm.

Iki

Oh, okay.

---

Shig Nishio

Helping out.

Iki

Well, I'm going to ask her the question, she's sitting over here. (laughter) She could talk about you. What was he doing at the time?

Esther Nishio

When?

Iki

When you were dating?

Esther Nishio

Well, he was helping his brother on the farm, as I understand.

Iki

Is that where he was originally from, Whittier?

Esther Nishio

Yes! (laughter)

Iki

We'll get him to come into the camera frame at the end of the interview. (laughter) So tell me a little bit of what your life was like after you got married. This is in the mid- to late-1940s?

Esther Nishio

Well, let's see. We got married and lived happily ever after. (laughter) We first had an apartment, just the two of us, and he would go off. He was on the farm, but since he had to come to the city, he took up gardening to support us. I was still working at this war surplus place.

And then I became pregnant, so I had to stop working. So my mother said why don't you come and stay with us after the baby is born and she'd help look after him, our child. Then we moved in to their house for a while and, I guess, in 1952, we built our own little house in Pasadena and raised our only child, John. He attended all the Pasadena public schools.

Since we were active in church, Shig acted as, let's see, committee chairman for the building committee; he helped plan and build the church that now stands on Lincoln Avenue. When John, our son, entered scouting, he was chairman of the committee. He became scoutmaster for several years, while John was in scouting. I was president of the Women's Association, and we were active in church activities. He was active in the men's social organization, and I had my Pasonas, so we were quite busy, you know, very active. We'd have patrol meetings at our house. The backyard would be dug up with big holes and we'd cook beef stroganoff or bake pies in our dutch ovens in the ground. They learned knot tying and all sort of things. We had a really fun time. I guess the scout troop had never gone on a camping trip in the Sierras, so Shig had initiated that for the troop. Because no one had ever been up in the Sierras, the parents thought the children would run into bears and, you know, wild animals, and so forth. But they had a great time. They went camping at Rock Creek in the

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Sierras and made their own fishing lures and caught fish with them. It was a real fun time.

Iki

That's great. Did you go on these camping trips with them?

Esther Nishio

Oh, just that Rock Creek trip. They would have trips too, in the desert, and so forth, you know. But parents— just the husbands went along to help out.

Iki

What church were you involved in?

Esther Nishio

Now it's called the Pasadena Presbyterian Church. It's in Altadena

now. It's an old church that started out on Kensington Place in Pasadena. I can't remember what it was called in the olden days.

Iki

And in this women's group, the Pasonas, what kind of activities were you involved in?

Esther Nishio

Well, we were all single girls when we formed the club. We would plan outings with our boyfriends or things like that. And then we all got married and had children, we called ourselves Mrs. Pasonas, (laughter) and took part in the community activities, Japanese community.

Iki

So were you very involved in the Japanese American community during this time period?

Esther Nishio

Oh well, you know the social activities and church work and stuff.

Iki

So the church that you went to was predominantly Japanese Americans?

Esther Nishio

It was all Japanese, yes, uh huh.

[break in recording]

Iki

Okay, we're back from dessert. (laughter) Thank you. It was great.

Esther Nishio

You're welcome! (laughter)

Iki

I just wanted to— we just have a few more questions to follow up on. I want to start getting into the 1950s and the 1960s. You talked a little bit about some of the different activities and organizations you were involved in. You are now married and settled and have a family of your own. What are your parents doing at this time?

---

Esther Nishio

Oh, in the '50s and so forth, my mother was working in a garment factory doing power sewing machine work. And my dad was, I think, at that time busy with his frozen food company.

Iki

You mentioned that your father— as soon as he had the opportunity became a citizen of the U.S.

Esther Nishio

Yes, he did.

Iki

Can you talk about that?

Esther Nishio

Oh, well he loved this country. And he couldn't wait to become a citizen. So when the chance came, he took his oath of allegiance. But my mother, I guess after having gone through the internment experience, had her doubts. So she retained her Japanese citizenship.

Iki

So she never got her U.S. citizenship?

Esther Nishio

No, she didn't. She kept— she was always a Japanese subject. But even though my parents retired and lived in Tokyo, my father still considered himself an American citizen. But I think, at that time, if you didn't return to the States within three years, you lost your citizenship. So he lost it eventually.

Iki

Oh, really?

Esther Nishio

Yeah, it was kind of sad for him.

Iki

Why do you think that he was so, I guess, pro-American?

Esther Nishio

Oh, well, he came here as a young man and he actually— he lived most of his life here, and he had good experiences. And I think there was opportunity here in this country, so he just wanted to be here. [He] loved it. But in his later years, I guess, they had been so active in the community, they felt the need to retire and live a more quiet life. And they thought being in Tokyo would be more relaxing for them.

Iki

Why did they decide that Japan would be more relaxing for them?

Esther Nishio

They must [have] felt very nostalgic about their home ties. My mother still had a brother and sister living in Japan. And, I think, my dad had some relatives, so it was time for them to go back.

---

Iki

Because it had been a while since they had?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm.

Iki

This is the first time they were going back to Japan since— ?

Esther Nishio

— to live, yes, uh huh. I think my dad went back in 1937, and my mother visited in the '50s. And then they kind of talked it over, and I believe it was around 1958 when they, you know, decided to go back for good.

Iki

Did your parents ever have discussions about the issues of citizenship, I mean, because your father was very pro-American— ?

Esther Nishio

Well, I'm sure they did, but I wasn't privy to it, so I don't know what they discussed. Because, I think, at that time, Shig and I were [both] living apart from them.

Iki

The other thing I wanted to ask you about was what your impressions were. What your thoughts were of the '50s, with the desegregation of schools in the South. Did you follow that at all? And I wondered if it resonated with you because of your experiences?

Esther Nishio

Well, I thought that the South must have been a really hard place to survive in if you were not white. And I really felt for the black community. I was— I didn't help out at all, but you know, I felt for them and I was really proud of those Nisei who did take part in the movement for them.

Iki

Did you follow that closely, at all?

Esther Nishio

No, just what I read in the papers and on the TV.

Iki

Were you at all involved in the Civil Rights Movement?

Esther Nishio

No, I wasn't.

Iki

What were your thoughts and feelings about all of that when that was going on?

Esther Nishio

Well now you heard about the lady that wouldn't give up her seat on the bus.

I was so— I thought she was so courageous. And it took a lot of gumption to do something like that as a young woman. And hearing all about the volunteers

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who went on the marches and were killed and attacked, you know. It was really a terrible time for everyone, for the country.

Iki

Well, later on in the early-'80s you had mentioned that you testified at the CWRIC

hearings in 1981. I was wondering if you could talk about that and why you decided to testify.

Esther Nishio

Well, I was asked to testify, and I didn't feel— they asked me to talk about my experience as a first returnee to the Western Defense Command [region]. I didn't know what relevance that had to the redress hearing, but I agreed to do so. We were limited to five minutes each, and so we were just supposed to speak on that one topic that was assigned to us. My topic was [entitled] "Return to Pasadena," so I wrote a sort of an essay of my experience and read as quickly as I could to get it all in five minutes.

Iki

Do you remember what that was like for you? This is, I guess, 35 years after returning to the West Coast. Had you talked very much to others about those experiences?

Esther Nishio

Oh, no. It was the first time that I actually tried to remember what happened. It is always quite hard to recall, you know, our experience and the feelings we held at that time. But we had to wait out in the corridor until it was near our time to speak, and then we were allowed to enter the hearing room. We were allowed to sit in the back. And then they called us up to this little table with a microphone, and it was our turn. But [in] waiting for our turn we heard all these other former internees relate their experiences and their hardships during the war years. And many of them were brought to tears by their remembrances. It was a very, a very touching experience. And I imagine that it touched the Senate Committee— the committee that came to hear our experience.

Iki

Were you glad that you decided to participate?

Esther Nishio

Yes, I was very happy to do it. I was reluctant at first, but once I got there I was glad I was there to do it.

Iki

What did you think redress

meant overall?

---

Esther Nishio

Oh, I thought it was wonderful. And it took the Sansei

to do it for us, and I am so grateful to them, because I think the Nisei tend to sort of sit back and let things happen many times. But the young people really picked up the torch and went to the forefront for us. I am so proud of them.

Iki

Do you remember, I guess that for a lot of people when there were initial discussions to talk about the redress, the idea of going for redress, was sort of an unpopular idea very early on. Do you remember when you first heard about redress and— ?

Esther Nishio

I thought it was impossible. I never dreamt that it would actually come through. But many people felt that it was going to be quite difficult to repay all those people for their suffering. And the $20,000 was just a drop in the bucket.

And I think it's really true because our parents lost their livelihood, and all the things they had worked so hard for all those decades.

You know, the young people, many of them lost their childhood in the camps. You know, they lost all the fun things they could have had [if they were] growing in a regular neighborhood with their regular friends, you know. So although, perhaps, we learned a lot of things we lost a lot of things.

Iki

What do you think, for yourself, has been the impact of the whole camp experience on your life?

Esther Nishio

Well, it's something that happened, and perhaps, it was sad in some ways because we lost our old home, you know, where we grew up, lost our old friends, but then we gained a lot new friends too, new experiences.

Well, it's hard to think of a lot of bad things now. I'm sure it was difficult growing up in those days. But as long as it doesn't happen again, if you are not complacent, and allow it to happen to others, perhaps something good will come out of it.

Iki

What do you think, I guess, just reflecting back on your experiences, being the first person to come back, to attend school here. How do you think that has impacted your life?

Esther Nishio

Well, I appreciate what good people do for others. It's hard for me to remember all the bad things, but my son said, "You know, mom, it's not that good now, you know, even though we've gone through this experience, people still call me a

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'gook' or a 'Jap.'" And my friends have that sort of experience and they are not waited on at restaurants. We have to stand up for our rights. So things aren't that hunky dory, but we hope that as we speak out and fight back when things aren't, when we are not treated fairly, I think things will get better.

Iki

Did you follow the Redress Movement while it was going on throughout the '80s?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm. And Alan Nishio who worked so hard for redress is one of Shig's relatives. We are so proud of him.

Iki

How are you related to Alan?

Esther Nishio

I think he is the son of Shig's cousin, or uncle, his uncle.

Iki

Do you remember when Redress was finally passed, and Reagan signed the bill?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm.

Iki

Do you remember when that happened and your personal response to it?

Esther Nishio

I think that there was great joy in my heart, and I was very grateful to President Ronald Reagan and Vice President George Bush.

Iki

Do you remember getting your apology letter and check?

Esther Nishio

Yes! I thought of sending him a thank you letter, but I thought, "No, it was long over due. I'm not going to say thank you." (laughter)

Iki

Yeah, I mean, I think if anything, as you said, people who deserved the thanks were those who worked so hard.

Esther Nishio

That's right! And many of our parents were gone by that time. They didn't get the apology they should have received.

Iki

Were your parents still alive?

Esther Nishio

Oh, mother was still here, but my father had passed away in the seventies.

Iki

So your mother was able to receive— ?

Esther Nishio

— yes, she received her redress [compensation]?

Iki

Well, I think that sort of brings up to present. Is there anything else that we haven't covered that you would like to add or talk about?

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Esther Nishio

Well, what would you like to know? (laughter)

Iki

Sojin, is there anything you would like to ask?

Esther Nishio

Perhaps, I can tell you about my jobs. Once I left the war surplus place and got married, [I] became a housewife. You know, we had fun growing up with our son, John, and then I was active in the PTA, and was secretary and room mother, and so forth. But then I decided why not get paid for this?

So I went to work for an industrial design firm in South Pasadena.

I worked for Henry Dreyfuss, who is one of the pioneers of industrial design and met many interesting people like Dr. Land at Polaroid Corporation, [and] the man who invented the, what is it, geodesic dome. Who is it?

Kim

Buckminster Fuller.

Esther Nishio

Buckminster Fuller, uh hm. And Joyce Hall of Hallmark, and all sorts of interesting people, Vincent Price. It was a fun job.

Iki

So what did you do for the company?

Esther Nishio

Well, I was the secretary there. And because I loved art and pretty things, I was assigned the job of planning the parties for the company and wrapping gifts and things. So Shig and I would go to that place Moskatel's you know, on Wall Street, and buy stuff and bring it to the office and design things for the parties. It was a lot of fun. And then when Mr. Dreyfuss retired, I went to work for the Flying Tiger Airline and worked for the vice president of law while [I was] there. And that's how Shig and I were able to travel quite a bit.

Iki

How long did you work for them?

Esther Nishio

For the Tigers, about 14 years. So that was a great place. Mr. Robert Prescott was the president and he was a former airline pilot who flew for General Chiang Kai-Shek during the Sino-Japanese War. So after the war, he and his buddies formed this airline. They started out in Burbank and then moved to LA. [It] was an all-cargo airline, and they flew mostly to Asia. My boss was the one who got all the routes for the airline, and they flew to Tokyo, Seoul, Philippines, and Bangkok and Singapore and Malaysia.

Iki

So where did you ride?

Esther Nishio

Where did I ride? (laughter)

Iki

Since it is all-cargo?

---

Esther Nishio

There is a jump seat in the cockpit, and there are two jump seats in front of the john, (laughs) so they could take three deadheads on each trip. And then when we bought 747s, we were allowed to sit in the lounge on top. (laughter)

Iki

So in some of the earlier flights you rode in the jump seats?

Esther Nishio

Yes, uh-huh, in front the jump seats in the back, in front of the john, or in the cockpit.

Iki

All the way to Asia! Oh, my God!

Esther Nishio

So we would fly— leave LAX and fly up to, maybe to Portland, San Francisco, and Portland and in Anchorage, and refuel there and fly over the pond to Tokyo. Once Shig and I flew to Tokyo, on a flight, it was a passenger airline. And when I got to Tokyo, I couldn't stay because my visa expired that day.

The Japan Airlines people suggested that I fly to Seoul, because they said you could get in the country without a visa and then apply for a Japanese visa to get back to Tokyo. But instead I called the vice president of the airline in Tokyo. He arranged for me to fly to Hong Kong and have the terminal manager there help me get a visa and fly back to Tokyo in a company plane.

Iki

Well, you traveled to many different places. What is, maybe, one of your favorite places?

Esther Nishio

Oh, our most exciting trip, I think, was a trip on Malaysian Airlines. It was a door prize. We were at an airline party, on the Queen Mary, in the grand ballroom, and there was a raffle. And I dropped my tickets in several airline boxes, but the Malaysian Airlines system was the ticket that won for me. And it was anywhere on their system, and so we could have gone anywhere, you know—to all of these exotic spots. But we picked Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Penang, Bangkok, Hong Kong, and Tokyo. That was the most fun we have ever had [on a] trip.

But when we got to Penang, we arrived there that one day and they asked us how long we were going to be? We told them a couple of days, and they said, "Well if you want leave, you better leave tomorrow, because if you don't leave tomorrow, you'll be stuck here for two weeks because it was Chinese New Years. And our Chinese friends had told us, "Don't worry, nobody goes anywhere on Chinese New Years." But we learned that everyone goes home on Chinese New Years. (laughter)

Iki

How long was that trip?

---

Esther Nishio

Oh I think we took 10 days. We spent time in Tokyo, with my parents, and the rest of the time on our trip. It was fun!

Iki

That's it in 10 days? You must have been traveling almost every day?

Esther Nishio

No, not quite that much but it was really a very beautiful trip.

Iki

Where else have you traveled?

Esther Nishio

Oh, we haven't traveled that much, but we've been to Taipei and Seoul and Alaska several times, and Vancouver, Montreal, Mexico Geneva, Zurich, Rome, and Pompeii. We haven't traveled too much in Europe, but mostly in Asia. Australia, I guess New Zealand.

Iki

We are going to have to tape some videos of some of your traveling photos up there on the wall. But another thing I wanted to ask you about was if you had kept in touch with some of the people like Mr. Hugh Anderson, who helped you in those early days returning to the West Coast?

Esther Nishio

Oh, we tried to keep in touch. They lived in South Pasadena for many years, but then they moved away to Laguna Niguel,

and I guess they were both quite frail by then. And so they entered convalescent homes. Mr. Anderson would call me at least once a year, but then I hadn't heard from him recently. And I tried reaching him at the phone numbers he had given me, but couldn't get through. So I've kind of lost him now.

Iki

Is he still alive?

Esther Nishio

That's what I don't know; I have no way of finding out, where or what happened to him.

Iki

I guess I just assumed that he passed away. Well, we have a few more minutes left on the tape, and we wanted to get your husband in the shot here.

Esther Nishio

(laughter) Okay.

Iki

[Asking Shig] Do you want to come and join us?

Kim

[Referring to photos on the wall.] So what's the photo on the left?

Esther Nishio

The left, your left?

Kim

Your side.

---

Esther Nishio

My side; these are my parents, Harry Shigehisa Takei, and his sweetie pie, Ninoe Takei.

Iki

Ninoe-san.

Esther Nishio

I think this was taken at our wedding.

Kim

And the other photo?

Esther Nishio

That's Esther and Shig. That's my sweetie pie right there.

Shig Nishio

That's me with a rented tux. We always thought they looked quite old, but looking at the photo now, they seem so young.

Iki

How old were the both of you when you were married?

Shig Nishio

I was 26 and you were—

Esther Nishio

22. You were twenty-five and a half, I think.

Shig Nishio

Yeah, not quite 26.

Esther Nishio

Oh, this is our son, John, and his bride, Susan Morita, on their wedding day.

Shig Nishio

Say, what year was it?

Esther Nishio

1973, I think. They met at Long Beach State.

Iki

They were going to school?

Esther Nishio

Mmhm.

Iki

What are your recollections of when you first met Esther?

Esther Nishio

That's right, you never said.

Shig Nishio

When I first met [her] or afterwards?

Esther Nishio

What did you think about me in Santa Anita?

Shig Nishio

Oh, I thought you were real cute. I wasn't ready to team up with anybody, so I guess was a good acquaintance. (laughter)

Iki

So what made you call her later?

---

Shig Nishio

Oh, after I came back from Michigan, I was new back here and wanted to renew friendships. My buddies said they knew Esther in Pasadena, or they had seen her. So I said, "Oh, I know her." So I tagged along and went to visit her along with two buddies. And then she was beautiful!

Esther Nishio

Oh yes. (laughter)

Shig Nishio

I decided to give her another call and that's how it started.

Iki

Do you remember your first date?

Shig Nishio

Yes! We went to the beach, was it?

Esther Nishio

Is that when we went to the pier or something?

Shig Nishio

Yup! Then we went to a series of dances sponsored by different groups. They had a lot of socials at that time. Because most of them were [for the] young. Yet for us were young, so they had a series of dances and we went to most of them and great fun!

Iki

What was it about her that made you fall in love with her?

Shig Nishio

Oh, she's— oh everything about her! She was beautiful, can talk and just a sweet person, mostly her sweet disposition.

Esther Nishio

And, you know I landed a great catch too. I don't want to brag, but I think he is the best husband in the whole world. We've always been partners in doing things together. When he went fishing, I learned how to fish, so I could be with him.

But he— now in our old age, he helps me with the cooking. He cleans the house for me sometimes, cuts my hair, and he can repair the house when he has time. (laughter) Repair TVs, do all sorts of things. And he's so smart! (laughter)

Our grandson asked me one day, "Grandma, what do you have to do to be married for 50 years?" (laughter) It's kind of hard to think what [it] was that made us last. I think it was our great love for each other and for our families. We are so fortunate. Our families on both sides are so nice, and our friends are so dear. So we've been very lucky.

Iki

Well that's really very wonderful. It's very apparent that you both very much love for each other. And it's wonderful to see. Thank you very much. If there is anything you'd like to add, I think we can wrap up.

Esther Nishio

Thank you very much for letting us do this. I'm sure we'll appreciate it even more after it's over! (laughter)

---

Shig Nishio

I've been wanting her to come out with all of these stories for a long time. And tried to urge her. So between our son and I, we sort of conspired to get her interested.

End of interview

Sakaye Shigekawa

• Interviewee:
•     Sakaye Shigekawa
• Interviewer:
•     Leslie Ito
• Date:
•     December 14, 1997

Biography

---

Sakaye Shigekawa

	"...I went to Chicago. I took
	a residency there....But the
	residency...wasn't what I
	expected....they didn't pay
	me what they promised to
	pay me. So I just walked out
	on them. And as I'm
	walking out, they reminded
	me there's a war on. And I
	told them, 'Yes, I know, but I
	didn't start it.' And I just
	walked right out."

Sakaye Shigekawa was born January 6, 1913 in South Pasadena, California. Her parents, Tsunetaro and Shina (Nagasaki) Shigekawa emigrated from Shikoku, Japan—her mother immigrating to the United States as a picture bride. Prior to World War II, her father worked as a gardener and was also part owner of a hog business. Sakaye Shigekawa has two brothers, a younger sister, and a twin sister who is now deceased.

During her adolescent years Tsunetaro Shigekawa was hospitalized with double pneumonia. To keep informed of her father's condition, she met often with the hospital's nurses and doctors. These contacts with hospital staff inspired her to study medicine. Following her graduation from Jefferson High School, she entered the University of Southern California's pre-medical program. Shigekawa then attended Loyola Medical School and completed her internship at Mercy Hospital, in Bay City, Michigan.

After her internship, Dr. Shigekawa returned to Los Angeles and took a residency at Los Angeles County Hospital. In the aftermath of the Pearl Harbor bombing, the Japanese American staff was summarily dismissed from Los Angeles County Hospital. Despite her dismissal from the county hospital, Dr. Shikegawa was able to find work at Seaside Memorial Hospital, a Long Beach naval hospital. Shortly thereafter, she was forcibly removed to Santa Anita Assembly Center. At Santa Anita, she and six other Nisei doctors cared for over 17,000 inmates.

---

In August 1942, Dr. Shigekawa accepted a residency in Chicago rather than face incarceration at Heart Mountain concentration camp in Wyoming. She later joined another doctor in private practice; her patients were mostly Irish, German, and Polish. As the camps closed, she increasingly cared for Japanese Americans who were resettling in Chicago.

Dr. Shigekawa decided to leave Chicago in December of 1948, and return to California. In 1949, she opened a practice on Santa Monica Boulevard in Hollywood. She continues to practice, there, today. Her patients come from diverse backgrounds; they are Caucasians, Japanese Americans, Japanese nationals, Chinese Americans, and Filipino Americans.

Interview

---

Sakaye Shigekawa recounts her experiences as a Japanese American woman medical professional in Los Angeles and Chicago, and her prewar experiences. She describes her resettlement in Chicago and eventual return to Los Angeles after World War II. She speaks about the postwar years in Chicago and Los Angeles, and relates the difficulties faced by Issei and Nisei doctors. In particular, she discusses the history of the Japanese Hospital in Boyle Heights. Leslie Ito in Los Angeles conducted this interview on December 14, 1997.

---

Ito

Can you state your name, birthdate, and your birthplace?

Shigekawa

Sakaye Shigekawa. Born in South Pasadena

in 1913.

Ito

What were your parents' names, where were they born, and what were their occupations?

Shigekawa

My father was born in Japan, Shikoku. My mother was also born in Japan, Shikoku. My mother was a picture bride who came to the United States.

Ito

Your father, what was his occupation?

Shigekawa

Well, when he came here, he did gardening, and he was with a group of men in the hog business before the war. They worked hard in building up the business, but the business didn't go well. The hogs, at that time, were cheaper than the garbage that they were feeding the hogs. But during the war years, I think they were able to make it. But, of course, it was in the hands of receivership, so he, as a person, didn't make much. They worked awfully hard for about 30 years trying to build up the hog ranch business.

Ito

And that's here in Los Angeles?

Shigekawa

Long Beach.

Then, they moved to Santa Ana. After all those years, they only got $10,000.00 for 30 years work.

---

Ito

How many siblings do you have?

Shigekawa

I'm a twin. My twin died about three years ago. I have a younger sister and also a brother.

Ito

Oh, a younger brother?

Shigekawa

Yes. He's the youngest.

Ito

So, you're—?

Shigekawa

Four.

Ito

Four of you. Okay. Could you tell me just a little bit about where you were when Pearl Harbor—?

Shigekawa

When Pearl Harbor broke out, I was in Los Angeles.

Ito

What were you doing?

Shigekawa

I was in Los Angeles. In fact, I was at the [Los Angeles] County Hospital taking residency. Then, we were fired. All the people of Japanese ancestry were fired from County Hospital. Then, I went to Long Beach at the Seaside Memorial Hospital. It was one of the naval hospitals. I was there a short time. I had to leave there on April 3, 1942.

Ito

Can we backtrack just a second? Could you tell me where you went to high school?

Shigekawa

I went to Jefferson High School, which is located on 38^th and Ascot.

Ito

Then, where did you go?

Shigekawa

Then, I went from there to USC [University of Southern California] pre-med.

Ito

Had you always known that you were going to be a doctor?

Shigekawa

Always wanted to be. I think, it was about 1930, when my father had double pneumonia. I had met a lot of nurses and doctors, and they inspired me to study medicine.

---

Ito

Were your parents supportive of this decision?

Shigekawa

Oh yes. Both my parents were.

Ito

So you did your residency?

Shigekawa

I went to school at Loyola Medical School.

Then from there, I took my internship at Bay City, Michigan, for a year. From then, I came back to Los Angeles, and took this residency at the Los Angeles County Hospital. And as I said, it was interrupted by the war. Then, I went to Long Beach, and then from there I went to camp.

Ito

What camp?

Shigekawa

Santa Anita [Assembly Center, California].

Ito

Okay.

Shigekawa

Where the racetracks are. There were about 7 of us doctors there taking care of 17,000 people at Santa Anita.

From there, I wrote several letters. I was supposed to go to Heart Mountain,

but I had written several letters to Washington stating that I would go, but I would not work. They didn't answer my letters, but finally they did send someone out to see me before the camp closed. I told them the same thing I wrote them about. Then, they said, "Oh, we thought you were a man, (chuckles) keeping you out of the army." I said, "Yeah. That's a big deal. I would have liked to have gone to the army, [rather] than being incarcerated." So they let me go.

---

So from there I went to Chicago. I took a residency there, but I stayed there only about a couple of months when someone offered me a job in her office. Then I worked with another doctor in private practice. But the residency—in the first place—it wasn't what I expected. And second place, they didn't pay me what they promised to pay me. So I just walked out on them. And as I'm walking out, they reminded me there's a war on. And I told them, "Yes, I know, but I didn't start it." And I just walked right out.

Ito

What year was it when you left Santa Anita?

Shigekawa

It was August 8, 1942.

Ito

Did your family go on to Heart Mountain?

Shigekawa

No, I was in Santa Anita way before they were. From there, they went to Amache, Colorado.

My brother and sister-in-law went to Utah, on their own.

Ito

So they didn't actually go into the camps, then?

Shigekawa

No. My sister-in-law [didn't], but my folks and my sisters went to camp. They went to the camp in Colorado. I can't remember the name of it.

Ito

Amache?

Shigekawa

Amache.

Ito

And then, at that point, did you ever visit them at the camps?

Shigekawa

No.

Ito

So you were in Chicago from '42?

Shigekawa

'42 till December of '48, then I came back here.

Ito

What was the feeling that you got in Chicago?

Shigekawa

I had been there to school, so I had friends there. But as far as taking care of patients, when I first went there, I had mostly Irish, German, and Polish people

---

as patients. Of course, working with this other doctor, they were her patients. Then, little by little people from the camps came out.

Ito

So when you were seeing patients in Chicago, you say that they were mostly of European descent. What were their reactions to seeing a Japanese American young woman as their doctor?

Shigekawa

Well, I didn't get the feeling that there were any objections at all. As a matter of fact, the practice there was very pleasant. I made a lot of house calls. There was an Irish community I took care of. They used to call me "O'Shige", Doctor Oshige. So they wanted to try to look me up in the hospital. They said, "Your name is not there." I said, "No. Because my name is Shigekawa." (laughs)

Most of those people were from Ireland, so they had a brogue that you could cut with a knife. It was a real strong Irish accent. So you finally acquired their accent. But I took care of several of the priests from St. Mels Cathedral, because my office was close to that cathedral. The priest would call me in when the patients were [either] dying or dead, and I'd go and see them and pronounce them dead. I used to tell them, "Father, why don't you call me before they die?" But I had taken care of a lot of Irish people. So it was very pleasant, and there was no feeling of animosity.

Ito

Were there any concerns on your part about—?

Shigekawa

I was never concerned because I had gone to school there in Chicago, and there were no Orientals there. [It was] really so sparse at the various schools—probably they had one or two, maybe. There were really no Orientals that you could even meet. There was one Japanese restaurant, and gift shop. So, I think, people treated me good (chuckles), because I was a curiosity to them not having seen Orientals. At first when I was at Bay City, Michigan, as an intern, there were little things I hear that I might be a spy, but nothing came of it. People were very good to me there, too. I had no problems.

Ito

What made you choose Michigan for internship?

Shigekawa

Well, that was the internship I got. See there were a lot of hospitals that didn't take women. The excuse was they didn't have facilities for women who are interns. So most of us took what we could get. And they were pretty picky about the interns that they picked at the various hospitals because they would naturally prefer men in those day. But now, I think, I was the second woman in Bay City, Michigan to be a woman intern.

---

Then the other woman intern gave them such a hard time, they didn't know what to expect from me. But it was a very good internship. And ironically enough, the Mother Superior there happened to be a sister of two or three of the teachers at Trade Tech, Los Angeles. One was in cooking. She was teaching cooking. The other one was in hair dressing. They lived on the West Side where a lot of teachers lived. So she treated me real good. In fact, my room was next to hers. Then, while I was there as an intern, we had fellows from University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, Michigan. So we all got along very well.

Ito

Did you ever miss the Japanese American sense of community or anything at all?

Shigekawa

No. I was too busy, too busy. But I knew several of them after they migrated to Chicago. I met them. Then I met them after they [had] come back. Some of the people that I knew, of course, didn't come back either, because their children got married to someone out there. They just stayed there. But I understand there's quite a Japanese community there now.

Ito

Um-hm. That's what I understand, too. So around what time was it that the Japanese Americans started moving to Chicago, and you started to have an influx in Japanese American patients?

Shigekawa

That was about '43, '44 to the time I left.

Ito

Did they seek you out, because you're a Japanese American doctor?

Shigekawa

No. I think the War Relocation [Authority]

office sent them to me because they knew I was out there. Because I know I took care of a whole lot of them.

Ito

Then, were you doing all kinds of medical—?

Shigekawa

I was doing general practice. Well, I'm a general practitioner. So I took out tonsils. I saw babies. I saw old people. There weren't too many old ones then. I did everything at that time. However, more and more as the years went by, I did more deliveries [of] babies because I was a woman, number one. Number two, I think most doctors were in the service, so there weren't that many doctors to be working.

Ito

Then, you moved back to California, in what year?

---

Shigekawa

In '48, December of '48.

Ito

Why did you choose to come back to Los Angeles?

Shigekawa

Because (chuckles) there's no place like California. I say this is the hub of the universe as far as climate, and living is a lot easier here. As far as people, I think they are all the same no matter where you go. I got along real good with people.

Ito

During this time did you have your own family? Did you get married?

Shigekawa

I never got married, but my family are all here. We were really natives of California, so this is the only place I prefer of all the places I've gone to with the crime and all, but you have crime everywhere else, too. So I still think this is the only place.

Ito

When you were in Chicago, it was a really busy time. Do you remember the postwar Japanese American Chicago? Can you describe that to me?

Shigekawa

Most of them lived in certain areas, and actually, the Japanese rented places that were really ready to be destroyed, and other things were to be built on those grounds. They were really like slummy places, but they made the best of it. I used to make house calls on the South Side, North Side, West Side,

wherever they were. In fact, in those days, people didn't have cars. If they were really sick, they couldn't get on the buses, the elevator, or anything. So I made house calls until wee hours in the morning, but it didn't bother me. I guess I was young, and I didn't know better. But it was no effort for me to go [in] snow and ice. Had to shovel the ice off of the windshield and everything, but it didn't bother me.

Ito

Do you speak Japanese?

Shigekawa

I learned from the patients after I came back here.

Ito

Because I was wondering if you had seen many Issei patients in Chicago?

Shigekawa

I saw—yes, Issei. Mostly Issei, in fact, and older Nisei. Then after I came back here, I saw these people from Japan, the business people, whose wives were pregnant, and they couldn't speak Japanese [English]. So I learned

---

Japanese from them, because I didn't speak it, [and] because my mother was in business, and there was no reason to speak Japanese.

Ito

What kind of business was it?

Shigekawa

Grocery store. Grocery store with liquor and meat, and everything. It was a general store.

Ito

So, your mother was fluent in English?

Shigekawa

She wasn't fluent, but she spoke English. She understood it.

Ito

So you returned to Los Angeles in 1949?

Shigekawa

Um-hm. Started my practice in August of '49, where I am now.

Ito

Oh, and where is that located?

Shigekawa

That's on Santa Monica Boulevard in Hollywood.

Ito

And you've been in that location from 1949?

Shigekawa

Um-hm. Ever since. It changed a lot. It used to be a lot of local Caucasian people living in that area. As a matter of fact, that was one place just like here, they were restricted against Japanese. So I got this office. It was a real estate office, and I turned it into a medical office.

Ito

Was it a pretty smooth process? Did you run into—?

Shigekawa

Yes. In those day, it was purely referrals. We couldn't advertise. But I had several neighborhood patients. As a matter of fact, in this area they tried to get my folks out of living here. They had meetings and everything, because they had a restrictive covenant. With that restrictive covenant law—whatever it is—expired, so they had a hard time trying to get us out, but they had meetings. And needless to say, most of these people became patients of mine. So in spite of the fact that they tried to get my folks out of there, they became my patients. As a matter of fact, I took care of most all of them until they died.

Ito

So you say that the location around your office had changed a lot?

Shigekawa

Oh, yes. It changed from American Caucasians to Armenians and Latinos.

Ito

Do you see that sort of change in your clients?

---

Shigekawa

No, because my patients weren't from that area. Those that were from that area had moved out, and of course, they died since. As a matter of fact—maybe you don't remember, James Cagney, the movie actor? His brother was a doctor, and he worked in the same area where I'm practicing now. So many times, when they couldn't get him, they'd get me. So, I took care of several of his old patients. In the meantime, he died.

Ito

Were most of your clients Japanese Americans?

Shigekawa

It was a mixture. At the beginning, I think, it was half-and-half. Half Caucasians, and half Japanese, Chinese, and Filipinos, because they were neighborhood people in that area.

Ito

The statistics that have I read says that you've delivered 10,000 babies. Is that correct?

Shigekawa

Well, actually, it's more than that. I think it's about anywhere between 20,000 and 30,000.

Ito

Wow!

Shigekawa

And as a matter of fact, I didn't realize it, but I did an awful lot of it, because I was working practically all day and night delivering babies. As a matter of fact, I delivered more babies at that time than the specialists.

Ito

Is it just out of choice?

Shigekawa

I liked it. Well, I like it. And of course, I had these nationals from Japan that came, and those I delivered in this area that lived in this area.

Ito

And the nationals from Japan, how did you make that connection?

Shigekawa

Well, I don't know. It was word of mouth, I guess, because, in those days, you couldn't advertise. So, it was either word of mouth, or one patient referred them from one patient to anther.

Ito

When you moved back to California, did you have any concerns about moving back here?

Shigekawa

Yes. Because a friend of mine that I had taken care of in Chicago came up here, and moved around the neighborhood where I'm practicing now. She had asked her doctor—the doctor she met after she got here—what chances I had in starting a practice here. And she said, "Oh, she'd have a hard time." So,

---

anyway, I met this woman—she's dead now—but she didn't think I could make it. I think I had more patients than she did at the hospital. Most women doctors will at least encourage women to start practice.

Ito

Was she Caucasian?

Shigekawa

Um-hm. She was Caucasian. So I never thought much of her. As a matter of fact, I think when I delivered triplets one time, she reported it to Los Angeles County Medical Board. At first, I was cited on that, because you were not supposed to advertise. It was in the papers. It wasn't my picture. It was a nurse holding the three children. She was small, but she was a lot smaller than I. She was real slender. And they thought it was I. They accused me of advertising. So I had to prove I wasn't even in there. So, anyway, the staff at the hospital and all, they knew I wasn't in the picture. But in those days, triplets were kind of rare.

Ito

So when you moved back to Los Angeles, do you still keep ties to the Japanese American community?

Shigekawa

Yes. I try to.

Ito

In what way?

Shigekawa

Well, I try to support all the Japanese organizations.

Ito

So you just talked to me a little bit about a kind of job discrimination. How do you feel that you were able to overcome this?

Shigekawa

Well, the hospitals didn't accept us when we came back here. Dr. Yamazaki's father was a minister. He was a minister of an Episcopalian Church. And you know, Good Samaritan is an Episcopalian Hospital. Dr. Yamazaki, the pediatrician, graduated from Marquette [University, Milwaukee, Wisconsin], and he came back here, and he couldn't get hospital privileges at Good Samaritan, or anywhere else. When I came here, I couldn't get any privileges. So we were very fortunate to have a Japanese Hospital.

At least we were able to deliver babies and do our surgery there. I think I was the first Oriental to be accepted at the Queen of Angels Hospital. I applied at the Presbyterian Hospital, but once they saw me, they couldn't take me. They didn't even answer my application. But we had a hard time in Los Angeles in the early days. But once we got in, we didn't have any trouble.

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Ito

At that point, how did you deal with this sort of disappointment?

Shigekawa

Well, I just accepted it. There's nothing else you could do. Fortunately, as I said, we had the Japanese Hospital that the old Isseis organized with the help of a very good lawyer that was able to get the license for them.

Ito

Do you know what year that hospital was founded?

Shigekawa

Well, that had to be in the early twenties, I think. I'm not positive about that. But I remember the hospital was on Turner Street, right next to Fukui Mortuary. As a matter a fact, do you remember the White King Soap building, there?

Ito

No.

Shigekawa

No? Well, anyway it was behind there on Turner. Then, they later built the City View—I mean, not City View, they call it Japanese Hospital, on First and Fickett. Then after they came back, they started again. Because during that interim during the war years, White Memorial [Hospital] used that hospital for their maternity. Then, when the Issei came back, they re-opened and organized that hospital. Then, they had the older Nisei by that time using that hospital. It was a godsend for all of us to be able to do our surgery and deliveries and so on.

Ito

At that point, that area was—there was a high concentration of Japanese Americans?

Shigekawa

Yes, Boyle Heights.

So everybody from all over really came from all of the suburbs. Japanese people would have their surgery done here. We had some very good surgeons, even among the Issei, like Dr. Tashiro for his surgery.

Ito

And was it only Japanese Americans that used this hospital?

Shigekawa

Um-hm. And Japanese from Japan. They're the ones that started it. Then, the Niseis took over. Then, when it became City View Hospital, when we Niseis took over, it was City View Hospital. Then, it became a non-profit hospital. But the board at that time saw fit to get rid of it and used the proceeds to build the Keiro [South Bay Nursing Home], which we objected to very strenuously. Because we felt that should have been a sort of monument to the Issei doctors for starting without any help at all, and the Nisei, of

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course, benefited from it. If we didn't have that hospital, we would have no place to work.

Ito

Do you know if this is a common thing for ethnic neighborhoods to set up their own hospitals, or was it sort of a unique situation?

Shigekawa

Yeah. I think it was a unique situation. Although there was a French hospital and German hospital, but they had privileges at other hospitals. They didn't need to do it. But we, as a Japanese community, really needed a hospital. If it weren't for that hospital we would not have been able to do surgery. We would have had to refer it to some other Caucasian doctor who had privileges at all the other hospitals.

Ito

And how is it being a woman working at the Japanese Hospital?

Shigekawa

I got along very well with these men, because I met them in camp. I was the youngest one in camp at that time in Santa Anita. So as far as working with the older Nisei doctors, it was really a privilege. They were very sincere and honest, and they did good work in comparison to some of the doctors I worked with in Chicago. They weren't out to get all that they could get financially. They were really dedicated. They taught me a lot while I was in camp. They taught me a lot about what practices really were like. And being an intern and all that, is all together different. But I was very happy to meet these doctors, and they treated me very good and fair. I thought they treated me fair.

Ito

Were you the only woman practicing doctor at the Japanese Hospital?

Shigekawa

Oh no. There was Dr. Ichioka who died recently. There was Dr. Shinoda who has been retired for the last couple of years. Then, there's Dr. Kusuyonegi Goto and then Miura, now. She married to a Miura. She's a widow now. She was one of two women accepted at USC Medical School in the year they started to accept women again, one of two. She practiced here before the war for some time. Then she worked for the army as a dermatologist, and then she retired. Dr. Shinoda was practicing psychiatry up to just recently, and her sister was practicing, and she died. She was practicing around Crenshaw area. And Dr. Ichioka practiced in the Mexican area, on the east side. She was, I think, the first Japanese woman graduating from [U]SC Medical School.

Ito

So when you moved back to Los Angeles in '49, did you live with your family?

Shigekawa

Well, I stayed at my family's house for a while, then I built this house.

Ito

When did you build this house when you moved back?

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Shigekawa

It was about 1956.

Ito

So you lived here since, then?

Shigekawa

Um-hm. Lived here all the rest of the time.

Ito

At that point when you built this house, there were no more reaction in the neighborhood?

Shigekawa

No. No prejudice. If there were, they didn't show it.

Ito

What are the most important milestones in your life?

Shigekawa

Well, to me, the most important was getting into medical school, and from then on I've enjoyed it.

Ito

Can you tell me a little bit about that process?

Shigekawa

Well, once I got in—as I say—I was very happy to get into study medicine. I think medical school was one of the happiest years in my life, I think. That and my internship. I could say I didn't regret any part of it. And practicing, too, I enjoyed that.

Ito

What were some of the experiences that made it the happiest for you?

Shigekawa

It was challenging, and I was doing the things that I wanted to do. I think, too, my companionship with my classmates with my colleagues, people that I worked with were very fun years, as well as working years. I guess I'm a workaholic. I've just enjoyed my work.

Ito

Were there ever times when you felt that the barriers that you may have faced because [of] your gender and your race were just too much?

Shigekawa

No.

Ito

What kept you going?

Shigekawa

Well, that never bothered me. We [I] just accepted the fact that being Japanese I'll have more difficulty. And being a woman, I knew that it wasn't going to be really easy going. However, I really never felt different discrimination with that time. I always felt, sometimes women or anyone can make it a problem. I just felt if anyone did something, I'd challenge them on it. Because when I was first an intern in Michigan, the first thing I had to do

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was assist in surgery. I didn't know one thing from another, but I tried to follow the protocol. So instead of the surgeon trying to teach me, he was picking on me. He said, "Don't pull so hard. Don't do this. Don't you know about this?" And I got it up to my ears at that time.

So at that time, I went to the hospital administrator. And I said to him, "Mr. So-and-so," I said, "You know, if I scrub with this man again, I'm going to peel off my gloves, walk away, and just make a statement, 'I felt surgeons were gentlemen and scholars, and you're neither,' and I'm going to walk away." So I gave a warning. Needless to say, the next day, I went to scrub. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he was so kind. (chuckles) I just felt that was unnecessary. And if I had those incidents that were very unpleasant, I'd just make a statement to them. I wouldn't argue with them or anything; I wouldn't fight with them.

Ito

What accomplishments are you most proud of achieving, and why?

Shigekawa

Well, to me every patient in my work turned out to be friends. I think that since I do like people and to be with them and the fact that I made friends during my practice has been one of the biggest accomplishments.

Ito

Was there a certain time period in your practicing that stands out in your mind?

Shigekawa

Well, there were certain situations that really—for instance, you'd get a mother who was really sick, and we wonder how the baby is going to turn out. There was situations like that, off and on, which comes with the territory, because you're bound to have problems. I remember those problems vividly. I think I even remembered it when things happen I think of certain times. I was always happy when things turned out good. But when they didn't turn out like I wanted, it was the most disappointing thing, of course. But I value the friendship of all these people.

Ito

So, you're still practicing now?

Shigekawa

Yes.

Ito

Do you plan to retire?

Shigekawa

No. I don't intend to retire. But the way medicine is going now, if I don't have the health I have [now], I'll retire. Because now you almost have to have a computer and every kind of machine in the office now. I'm not going to do that.

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Ito

Do you have associates with you?

Shigekawa

No. I just have office help that does the business part of it. The part I don't like. (chuckles)

Ito

Are you still delivering babies?

Shigekawa

No. I quit eight years ago. It's been maybe ten years ago, because now you have to have malpractice insurance. I haven't had malpractice insurance for many years. The hospital required it, and then I said it was either or else, so I had to quit hospital work. It was probably time I quit anyway, because you had to be up all hours of the night. It became dangerous in that area where Queen of Angels Hospital is now. It's on Vermont and Fountain. It's a dangerous area going out all hours of the night. Before, it was just that building up there. You could go straight up to Queen of Angels Hospital.

Ito

So has that cut your hours down, considerably?

Shigekawa

Considerably. I'm not doing one-tenth of what I used to do.

Ito

Has it left you more time for yourself, or—?

Shigekawa

Yes, more or less.

Ito

Do you have any hobbies?

Shigekawa

That's why I'm working. I don't have any hobbies. I entertain about once a week for dinner. All of those old friends, that have been coming here, are either dead, or they can't walk up the stairs anymore, but otherwise, I keep myself busy.

Ito

Mostly in your work?

Shigekawa

But no work. My work in very minimal. Actually, delivering babies wasn't what I was going to do, but it just happened. But I think delivering babies was the most gratifying, because everybody is happy. Whereas, medically, they either die, or they get better. And surgery, you take something out of them, and you give them nothing, except a little more pain, or something like that. But I think, seeing people looking at their healthy baby and everything was the happiest situation. I like that about it.

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Ito

[You were the] first woman chief of staff at Queen of Angels. Can you tell me a little bit about that experience?

Shigekawa

Well, in fact, I was the first woman chief of staff of any hospital in Los Angeles at that time [in] 1977.

Ito

And what was that experience like at that time?

Shigekawa

At that time, it was rather political. There was about three factions trying to get the presidency. This friend of mine who pushed me wanted a woman chief of staff, so I got it.

Ito

I'm not familiar with how a hospital runs. What's involved with the—?

Shigekawa

Well, chief of staff is really just a figurehead for the staff. We had to conduct these staff meetings once a month. We had to go through the bylaws. We had members of all the committees of the hospitals that had to come to these meetings every month with all the problems. We just conducted the meetings like you would in any organization. It was for the staff hospital, members of the staff, and it had nothing to do with our hospital board, because they had a different group. I think there's been another woman that was the chief of staff recently at the Queen of Angels, but I think I was the first one in Los Angeles hospitals.

Ito

How does that make you feel?

Shigekawa

Well, I felt at least I knew the fellows were for me. (chuckles) They weren't against me, because I was a woman, or Japanese. At that time, we had mostly American doctors—I mean American-trained doctors. Now we have more foreign doctors. So I don't think they would have even considered me. But our American doctors were a lot more informed. Having worked for them and getting to know them, makes a lot of difference.

Ito

Would you consider yourself a unique Nisei?

Shigekawa

No. I wouldn't consider myself unique. Not at all.

Ito

Why? Why would you—?

Shigekawa

Well, I felt I did the thing I liked, and I happened to pursue it. It's something that someone else could have done if they wanted to. I think it's a matter of what you wanted to do. In spite of so-called obstacles, I think if it's what you really want, I think that one could get it. You can make all kinds of excuses of

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not getting into something, but I think if one wants something badly enough—and I did want it.

Ito

You said that your parents were always very supportive?

Shigekawa

Oh yes. My folks were. Of course, their friends would say, "Oh, you're going to send a woman to school? My gosh. She's going to get married, and she won't amount to anything. So why do you spend that much money?" But my father said, "Well, that's what she wants." He was all for education, anyway.

Ito

For both his daughters and son?

Shigekawa

Yes. Well, I supposed he would have wanted for his own son, my brother, but he [brother] wasn't interested at that time.

Ito

Were you the only one of your siblings to get a higher education?

Shigekawa

Yes. That's right. Well, I think my brother went to UCLA for I don't know how long, not too long, but that was before the war. My sister went to junior college two years, but she was studying everything and anything. My other sister never did go, the youngest one. But my father and mother were both for education, and they'd spend anything for education.

Ito

Did your parents have strong educational backgrounds from Japan?

Shigekawa

No. My mother was a picture bride, and she was only—I guess they only went through high school. I don't know how long. They took all these tea ceremony, and all these things that my mother (chuckles) used to say, "Oh, that's a waste of time." I think, because my mother was more business-minded. So they never pushed us into anything. That's one thing my folks said, "It's your life, and you have to do with it what you like."

Ito

So would you characterize your parents as maybe unique Issei, then?

Shigekawa

I think my mother was.

Ito

In what way?

Shigekawa

I think my mother was very much advanced, in her thinking, compared to the old Japanese Issei thinking.

Ito

Sort of a more liberal sort of thinking?

Shigekawa

Very much so.

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Ito

Could you give me maybe some examples of that? In what ways was she—?

Shigekawa

Well, she always encouraged us to be ourselves, and not think of what people are thinking, but do what's right, and you don't have to worry about what people think. Things like, so many Issei were more concerned about what people were thinking about them than what you think of yourself. She believed in being independent. She said, "No matter what you do. Be your own boss." She was very much for man or woman. I think she felt that way.

Ito

Do you feel that has in turn affect you and your personality?

Shigekawa

I think so. I think it affected my whole family that way.

Ito

I have one last question that I wanted to ask you about your hats (laughs).

Shigekawa

My hats? I have so many (chuckles), and before you leave, I'll show you where they are. You'll be surprised. And I've given a lot of them away. I wore them ever since I was in Chicago, because we wore them according to seasons. I guess I never got over it. I feel naked if I go out without a hat. Oh, geez, something's missing. (chuckles)

Ito

Okay. Do you have anything else that you wanted to add to the interview?

Shigekawa

No. There isn't. My life is just a simple life.

Ito

Okay. Great. Thank you very much.

End of interview

Art Takemoto (Reverend)

• Interviewee:
•     Art Takemoto (Reverend)
• Interviewer:
•     James Gatewood
• Date:
•     May 19, 1998

Biography

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Rev. Art Takemoto

	"...[the Buddhist temple]....filled
	a tremendous void...everything
	else was gone....with my folks,
	when they were young....There
	was no time for anything....after
	they came back from camp,
	that was their only pleasure....it
	gave them a sense of
	belonging....because it wasn't
	that the outside community was
	hostile...at least in the temple,
	they felt a sense of
	cohesiveness."

The Reverend Art Takemoto was born in Fresno, California. In 1936, his family moved to Los Angeles. He grew up in the Boyle Heights area and attended Dharma school (Sunday school) at the Nishi Hongwanji Buddhist Temple.

When Pearl Harbor was bombed, he was attending the Metropolitan School of Business. He wrote a petition on behalf of the school's Japanese American students stating that they were not Japanese nationals and their loyalty to the United States. He was eventually forced to quit school when he and his family were forcibly removed and sent to Poston concentration camp in Arizona.

In 1943, he went to Topaz, Utah, to study Buddhism under Bishop Ryotai Matsukage. The following year, in 1944, the bishop asked him to go to Chicago and help its minister open up a temple. He served as a liaison between the newly forming Buddhist temple and the Japanese American resettlers to Chicago, the WRA, and the FBI. By the time he left Chicago in 1945, the temple's congregation had grown from an initial nine people to 450.

In Los Angeles, Reverend Takemoto opened a Buddhist hostel at the Nishi Hongwanji Buddhist Temple. When it was closed, he moved it to the Senshin Buddhist Temple. Reverend Takemoto found the Buddhist temples important in assisting Japanese Americans to

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resettle after the war; they not only helped people find jobs and housing, but also provided social and support networks.

In 1947, he moved to San Francisco, California, where he got married and worked for the Buddhist Churches of America. He graduated from San Francisco State College, and then continued at University of California, Berkeley where he studied languages. A year later, he moved to Japan to attend the Buddhist University in Kyoto. He studied in Japan for four years before he was assigned back to Los Angeles in 1955.

In 1957, Reverend Takemoto returned to school to obtain a teaching credential. Two years later, he took a leave of absence from the Buddhist temple and became an elementary schoolteacher. He taught for twenty-one years and did part-time ministry in various Southern California Buddhist temples.

Interview

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The Reverend Art Takemoto recounts the changes that Little Tokyo underwent during the postwar years, including the return of Japanese American residents and businesses to what had been called "Bronzeville" during the war. He discusses at length the active role of the Buddhist church in efforts to assist the resettlement of Japanese Americans in Chicago and Los Angeles, and speaks specifically about youth-oriented church activities. Furthermore, he also talks about the hostel at the Senshin Buddhist Temple. Reverend Takemoto was instrumental helping to open the hostel, and he served as a liaison to the War Relocation Authority [WRA]. This interview was by James Gatewood on May 19, 1998 in Los Angeles, California.

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Gatewood

Okay, here we are again, (chuckles) trying for a second time, for our interview. And what we'll do is I'll just go over some basic elements. We'll talk a little bit about the prewar period, World War II, and then the bulk of the questions will focus on resettlement. And again, if there are any questions you don't feel like you want to answer or—we can just move on. So, thank you again for agreeing to be here. We'll start first by talking a little bit about your early life. You had indicated that you were born in Fresno,

and then you had moved to L.A. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about how you came to the Los Angeles area?

Takemoto

Well, my parents were having difficulty financially in Central California, which was primarily an agricultural country. My father—I guess, he came here when he was seventeen from Japan, and worked on the railroads in Idaho and Washington, and he finally found that was too hard. He had an older brother in Fresno, California, so he came to Fresno and started to do agricultural work. He wasn't very successful. He was a restaurateur. But like in Fresno, where most of the Japanese Americans were congregated, on one block there must have been about five, six, seven restaurants on the same block. And competing with that was almost impossible. Finally, needing to find some other ways of supporting the family, he decided to come to Los Angeles. And that was after my oldest brother graduated from high school. So he came to Los Angeles. He couldn't find housing, so we went to Terminal Island

for one year.

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After one year in Terminal Island, we were able to find a house in which we could rent in Boyle Heights, and that's back in 1936. From then on, we were in Los Angeles in the Boyle Heights area until evacuation.

Gatewood

Can you describe the physical composition of this community during that time period in Boyle Heights?

Takemoto

Boyle Heights? Boyle Heights to me was very, very congenial, because I think, at that time, it must have been about sixty percent Jewish community, mixed with the Latin community, and a few percentage of White Russians. They were congregated around what is known as the housing project on First Street that is just east of the Los Angeles River. And the Japanese American community was—I would say one of the larger communities at that time.

It was quite a good mixture of all the different racial groups. And certainly, I thought it was one of the more congenial neighborhoods. School was very close. I went to Roosevelt High School. I had a very enjoyable high school year. So I would say transportation was very, very adequate. I lived right on First Street, and next door was the old Japanese Hospital.

Transportation into downtown area was no problem. No matter where you wanted to go, one was able to travel by streetcar at that time. I would say for me, I think it was a very ideal kind of neighborhood to be in, a community to just to be part of.

Gatewood

You said that the neighborhood was congenial. That's how you kind of described it. Would you say that the interethnic relations amongst the various groups were congenial as well? How would you characterize it?

Takemoto

I would say so. I mean my high school days, since I was more or less imported to Los Angeles area, I didn't know too many of the Japanese people—Japanese Americans there. So my classmates were people with whom I felt most comfortable was with some of the Jewish American students, my Latino friends. So I associated more with the other racial groups than with the Japanese Americans.

Gatewood

You said your father had a restaurant in Fresno. What were your parents engaged in—what kind of occupation during this period?

Takemoto

During the war or just before?

Gatewood

Just prior.

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Takemoto

Prior to the war. Well, when my father came to Los Angeles, he became a handyman, which is quite different from what he used to do. Well, of course, he used to tinker all the time. But when he did come from Japan, it was mainly agriculture. Then he became involved in the restaurant. Then, coming here to Los Angeles, he became a handyman.

Gatewood

And, in terms of your family life, can you tell me about—what was your relationship like with your parents growing up?

Takemoto

Growing up? Well, I would say it was—it was a family, a real family. At least we were able to sit together, and have dinner, and talk. My mother was a disciplinarian. And so, I used to be scolded frequently for being not observant. But with my brothers and sisters, I think we had a real close relationship with each other. We were supportive of each other. I would say the only thing is that in Central California, my parents didn't have any property. Of course very few had property—but financially we were not in the best of conditions. But that's why, unfortunately, my brothers were not able to go beyond high school. I know they wanted to, but they became, more or less, the breadwinner to support the family. And so I have much gratitude to my brothers and sister for being very, very supportive.

Gatewood

You had said, just previously that you associated to a large extent with members from the Jewish or Latino population. I was wondering what kinds of activities, extracurricular activities, did you pursue during this time in Boyle Heights?

Takemoto

Oh, I used to go to the Evergreen playground almost every day, and that's how I made some of the friends. My only association with the Japanese Americans, my fellow students, was through going to the Japanese language school and to the Nishi Hongwanji Buddhist Temple.

But, at school, somehow, it just fell in that way. I became very, very close with—and he was a German American. He was a newcomer to the school. So, it seemed like all of the so-called newcomers to the community—we sort of gathered together and had a rather strong bonding that way. So that was it. When I got into high school, after my first year, students encouraged me into getting into student body activities. And so I became quite involved with the student affairs. And that's what made things a little bit more easier. (laughs)

Gatewood

As many, I guess, Japanese American youth, during the prewar period, you said that you went to the Japanese language school. Can you describe your experiences?

Takemoto

Oh. (laughter) It was rather horrendous. Horrendous in the sense that—well, my parents insisted that I go, and it was primarily out of duress that I went. Of course, those days, what it meant was you had to go to Japanese language school,

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immediately after completing public school, which meant being in school from 8:00 A.M. By the time we got home it would be about 6:00 P.M., in the evening. And of course, one of the things as I reflect now—in the sense I was able to speak Japanese, it would be more like American Japanese. What we learned was the kind of Japanese that we learned in the home. It depended upon where your parents came from in Japan.

My parents came from Hiroshima, so I would have an element of Hiroshima dialect. But going was rather difficult, because I think most of it was through rote learning. And rote learning, you don't—it's just not appreciative. So it was with the sense of rebellion that I went to the Japanese language school. Whenever there was a football game or something like that, on Fridays. The Japanese school bus used to come and pick us up. Well usually, I wasn't there. But somehow I got to the Japanese language school after the football game, and then come home on the bus like I had attended Japanese language school. That's the way things were. But it was with a great deal of indifference, or [at least] not with a great deal of interest, that I went to language school.

Gatewood

That's just an amazing story. Did you parents ever find out that you—?

Takemoto

Well, I don't know. (laughter) Never talked about it.

Gatewood

Something interesting that you also mentioned, and it is something that I think will be kind of consistent throughout this interview is your relationship with Hongwanji, and to the larger extent the Buddhist faith. At what point did your family become involved with the Buddhist church, both in Fresno and in Los Angeles?

Takemoto

They've always been participants. I was also a participant in what we call the Dharma school—or the Sunday school at that time in Central California. I went as long as I can remember, I guess, from kindergarten on. And I think I was greatly influenced by a particular teacher who was so very, very compassionate, and that it made me appreciate that time as a youth—that I'm going to the gathering without any sense of rebelliousness or any sense of animosity. That was the thing to do. And that's the way it was.

So that continued on to when we came to Los Angeles. Of course, the first thing is that we started to attend the Dharma school at the Nishi Hongwanji. So, although I don't know how much I learned. (chuckles) I guess, in a sense, it was, sort of, primarily a social gathering—if you want to call it that. Until I got into—maybe, I guess about junior or so, I had a Sunday school teacher who was quite ambitious and wanted us to do some study and do homework. So I did that. But that was about the extent.

I think I sometimes question some of the very, very young people to become over-religious at that age. And I think—I don't know. I have a sense of doubt as to when one becomes over-religious at a very, very tender age. I don't know. That's one of

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my big doubts or suspicions. (chuckles) Because, in other words, as a child, one hasn't that much experience as to living. And most of it would be socialization, like going to a public school, to be able to acclimate oneself with one another, to be able to get along with their peer groups and all that. I think, basically, that's the interest of most. As a child, I would be more interested—and not in the sense of being highly religious. I don't think I was highly religious at all.

Gatewood

What kinds of things was the Hongwanji providing in terms of socialization of youth during that time period? I'm actually doing research on religious—actually, a church in West L.A., on a Methodist church. They offered a lot of different programs geared towards, let's say, youth where there was socialization, with a little bit of evangelism mixed (chuckles) in. Did you find similar programs?

Takemoto

Oh yes. Of course, you have what is known as Sunday school, and then the youth group. I was part of the youth group, starting off with the Junior Young Leaders, and then the Senior Young Leaders. At the time, before the war [World War II], there was segregation. They had the young women and the young men's groups. It was not together. But postwar, it became just the Young Buddhist Association. Much of this kind of socialization took place. So out of that—I think if my recollection is accurate, the Buddhist groups started the carnival, but [it was] the beginnings of what became later known at the Nisei Week

Carnival.

I remember when I first came back from Japan, we had a huge—we had the Los Angeles County parking lot where we had our Obon carnival.

But soon after that, the Nisei Week began to take over and have their carnivals. Before that, the Nisei Week was primarily concentrating on the parade, and the Nisei Week queen, and the talent show. Well, we as the Buddhist group used to have all this. So that sort of kept us together. And as far as youth programs, we used to have conferences in which they had oratorical contests, debates, and of course, athletic activities. So putting the youth together in a social atmosphere was one of the ways. This goes way back, and it has to be that way in a sense that—you have to understand that before the war, the number of priests and ministers that were able to speak English were nil. I would say just before the outbreak of World War II, there must have been—let's see, one, two, three—I think three in all the United States that spoke English. And so, you can understand—I mean, well many of the Nisei did understand Japanese to some degree, but the understanding is not in a technical sense or a religious sense.

I think, to them, it was a great deal of difficulty, because we assume that the Nisei spoke Japanese. But it's only [in] postwar and much, much later that the people began to understand that the Nisei—that the Japanese—that [what] they spoke, actually, was not their native tongue. People assume that it was their native tongue, and it wasn't. And that's probably the big mistake that many of the Japanese

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language schools made in the sense of teaching Japanese as the native language of the Japanese Americans. And it wasn't. For the Japanese Americans who rebelled against it, it's understandable.

Gatewood

Indeed. That's very interesting, and something I'd like to—as a kind of parallel, because I see a lot of parallels with what's going along in terms of a lot of these Christian organizations and their relationship to the Japanese American community. I've heard varying things, but what were relations like between—or if you can even recall during this time—between say the Christian Japanese Americans or the Christians Nisei and the Buddhist Nisei in your community? Is there any ever kind of tensions or—?

Takemoto

Oh, I don't think so. My experience was rather weird in the sense of—because of my friends. I had a number of Christian friends all through high school and all that. So I used to go to the Evergreen Baptist Church Sunday evenings, because they had—what they called the BYPU [Baptist Young People's Union] gathering. Sunday mornings I would go to the Buddhist temple.

During the week, I went to a Presbyterian church because they had a choir. So I was involved in a Presbyterian church, a Methodist church, the Baptist church, and then the Buddhist temple. All, [but] not from a religious standpoint, but rather from the standpoint of having my friends, who are involved in these different groups.

They would invite me, and I used to sing in their choir. And then, of course, with the Evergreen Baptist Church, they had a Ping-Pong table, so I played Ping-Pong there. So it was not from a religious standpoint, but just as being friends. And of course, one of the leaders knew I was a Buddhist, and later on I found out that they wanted me to become a Christian. (laughs) But it didn't turn out that way. So I would think there wasn't any sense of saying, well, you're a Buddhist or you're a Christian. I think this came about more postwar.

Gatewood

That's very interesting.

Takemoto

That's my opinion now. I may be wrong, but—

Gatewood

Yeah. And I think there's a lot that would validate that opinion—certainly, things that I've come across. But that's something we'll get back to when we start talking more about the postwar period. It's very interesting. You mentioned a lot of things that young people were essentially involved with, like yourself, things that you were doing. Do you recall anything about—maybe you don't, but—some of the dating kind of rituals, Nisei youths during that time, or yourself, even?

Takemoto

(chuckles) Well, there was, but you better not tell your parents about it. In other words, the idea was you didn't bring home a girl to your house or anything like that. That's almost a no-no. But, you associate with your fellow students, and it's that kind of situation, and that was in existence. But as far as the Issei parents were

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concerned, they sort of frowned on these things, you know. It's still in the tail end of the days when the parents were still making the marriage arrangements by having a go-between or whatever. That's what I would say before the war, which would be quite different from what it is today.

Gatewood

Were you dating during that time period?

Takemoto

Oh, yeah. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Interesting. Okay. I would like to shift gears a little, and talk a little bit about the war time period. And I was wondering if you could evoke for me the moment when you heard about the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

What were your initial thoughts or reactions?

Takemoto

I remember a very scary feeling in the sense that we had a—I was involved in the youth group. It must be about 17 of us together. We used to hang around together all the time. Every Sunday, we would go someplace together. And on December the 7^th, we just happened to be in a theater. And in those days, it just flashes on, Fox News or whatever it is that came on the screen. It says that Pearl Harbor has just been bombed. I don't remember whether it was booing or whatever it was. We left in the middle of the movie. We quietly snuck out of the movie, and then we went to a friend's store on—actually it was—I don't know whether the street still exists: Jackson and San Pedro.

[It is] right near the Union Church across what is now the East West Theater, the Union Church on San Pedro. Well, where the store was, it is part of the police station there.

Gatewood

Yeah, on First.

Takemoto

Yes, well, went into that store. And at that time, First and San Pedro was just in dark. People closed their stores. But my friend had a candy-manufacturing store in just about that area. So we all went in there. And we didn't dare turn on the light, but we saw people flashing flashlights into the store. So we hid behind the store counter. You know we were just a bunch of kids standing there. So we stood there and hid for quite a while. And after we didn't see anymore of the patrolling there, we left the building and went home. That was—I think that was rather frightening. So there was a great deal of fear and wonderment, because there were a number of people—well, look at the Nishi Hongwanji, the ministers were all incarcerated.

You know, I mean, there were only—not even one was left. And their wives and the kids that were left behind, why they were in a dither, you know.

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But I was still going to school. Even at school, it wasn't very, very comfortable anymore. I had an active role at the school that I was going to. One of the administrators, whenever they saw a strange Japanese man—and I remember him asking, "Will you stand out there and watch what he's doing?" You know, like he was a spy or something, or I don't know. Well, I did this, because he asked me to do it.

And it became so that school was no longer fun. I remember writing a petition on behalf of the students in the particular school that I was going—then known as the Metropolitan School of Business, which became the Los Angeles Trade College. So I had Japanese American students that were attending sign a petition saying that we were not Japanese nationals, and that we are Americans of Japanese descent, and that our loyalty to America is our prime concern. We sent it to the president of the school, so that at least they would know that we're not out here to sabotage school or sabotage the United States.

But I remember writing several petitions of that nature with the advisement of one of the Japanese American organizations that this kind of thing be done. So I had done this. But, you know, to be under constant suspicion, or to be under this kind of pressure—I don't know if you would call it duress. It seems like it's duress (chuckles), because it's the public outlook, the newspapers how they wrote up that. So it was not a very comfortable situation.

Gatewood

Wow. In terms of your family, how was your family taking the situation at that time?

Takemoto

At the time, what can they do? Well, in fact, my father quit his job and stayed at home. Of course, you know, later on what had happened was that there was curfew and all that resulted [in the] five-mile radius and all that. Well, I had to quit school, because I couldn't go to school (chuckles) anymore because of the limitation of the area. So that's what happened. Then you had these blackouts. You had to buy blackout curtains and stay in the house. So your life became more restricted. Of course, the blackout was meant for everyone. Everyone had to black out their houses. But of course, there were some people who became very, very belligerent and began to strike out. And this was the time where—and I don't blame the Chinese and I don't blame the Koreans saying, "I am not Japanese." You know, these buttons that they wore, because unfortunately, people can't seem to identify. Just because you have an Asian face, you're branded of being Japanese or an enemy.

Gatewood

Did you or your family personally experience any kind of this reprisal or discrimination that was launched by members of various communities?

Takemoto

I didn't face anything except from the government, (chuckles) really. I was working for my brother not too far from here, in Bellflower. He had a produce stand. I used to commute on a streetcar. And the first day of curfew, which was eight o'clock curfew, coming from Bellflower going into Los Angeles terminal and then all the way to Boyle Heights, I was late. And of course, I was late because I have a physical

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handicap. I got in the house—it must have been about five, 10 minutes after 8:00 P.M. And two men come to the door, and I was interrogated for two hours for being five, 10 minutes late. What did I do wrong? I had no intention, you know—I don't know why they did that. Well, of course, maybe, because I was five or 10 minutes late. That was the situation, but actually it was a two-hour interrogation. You know, that doesn't (chuckle)—that's not very comfortable.

Gatewood

Indeed. Indeed. Say, a week before your family was informed that they were going to go to camp, what kinds of preparations did your family make?

Takemoto

Well, my eldest brother who had a produce stand in Bellflower. He couldn't operate that stand, so he had to get rid of it, which meant that personal property had to be taken care of. We began to hear rumors of what one can actually take. And a lot of our personal belongings were sold. My brother was very, very sad. He just loved cars. He babied his truck and took care of it. To have to sell that, was—I guess, really devastating (chuckles) for him, and at the rate he had to sell it for was not what he paid for. So I think those things were hurting. So, much of the personal property that we had, we had to begin to sell. Those were some of the—what else could we prepare for, because none of us knew where we were going anyway.

Gatewood

From the day of the forced removal, where does your family go?

Takemoto

Well, we were—Boyle Heights was probably the last location in Los Angeles that was to be evacuated. There were some families that decided to go maybe to the uptown area, or to the Southwest area, or to the West Los Angeles

area, and move to that area so that if they were to be evacuated that they would go together. Just like my wife's family. They lived in Canoga Park, and the family decided they wanted to go to Central California where they thought it would be free from evacuating. So they moved to Ladera, California, from Canoga Park. But we stayed to the very, very end. And that was it. We were really about the last group to move out of Los Angeles.

Gatewood

Where did your family go at that time?

Takemoto

The camp?

Gatewood

Yeah. Did you go to an assembly center first?

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Takemoto

No. We didn't (chuckles) know where we were going. We got on a train on First Street Bridge Santa Fe Station. We had no idea where we were going until we ended up making a stopover at Barstow. And then, we figured, well, we must be going in the desert someplace. And sure enough, we ended up in Poston, Arizona.

Gatewood

Tell me, in terms of talking just about camp, what were your most memorable experiences in camp? What was your best experience that you had in camp?

Takemoto

Hm, my best—? (laughs)

Gatewood

It's kind of an interesting question to ask (both chuckles), but what do you recall as being one of your better or best experiences when you were in camp?

Takemoto

Well, I don't know what was my best experience. It was an experience. (chuckles) I guess—I can't say what was really my best experience. The only thing that it was when I went there, I first worked in a canteen. I was a soda dispenser, and I did that for about a month or a month-and-a-half. In the meantime, some of my friends asked me if I would help direct the youth group and help at the temple. And so I quit the canteen. Actually I was a cashier in a soda dispensing area. And I began to serve as—I don't know whether you can call it a director of youth activities or what. But that's what I began to do.

Since the minister spoke in Japanese, I was asked to sort of interpret or translate what they had come to say. So, that's how I became involved in more of the youth activity. Then, I think, I decided ultimately, how can I direct people without even knowing anything about Buddhism? So that's when I decided, I think I'd better study. And then, through the encouragement of the minister there, that's what I began to do. From Poston, Arizona, I went to Topaz,

Utah, to study under the bishop who was there, and some other teachers who were very, very kind in sharing their time with me. That's the highlight. (chuckles) I mean, I can't think of any. It was a lot of fun in camp, the other aspect.

I remember being involved in a strike and we had a riot. I was involved in a strike. I was asked to serve as the councilman for my block for community relations or whatever. I think I was able to do a lot of things which maybe I wouldn't have done

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otherwise. You take the bad, and then you take the good. Maybe the goodness is this, kind of—re-evaluating your life, so to speak.

Gatewood

A couple of things. In terms of experiences, I think you describe kind of a highlight, I guess. Did you have any negative reflections about that period? Even in retrospect any kind of negative—?

Takemoto

Well, the negativeness is: one is that you're separated from your friends in California. Being uprooted, and the frustration of not being able to continue school. Of course, when you take Poston, Arizona, it's 109, 110 degrees and no cooling systems. I think that was frustrating, not being able to lead what you might term a certified life—the normal life that you would in a regular community, instead of the area where you are bounded.

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Gatewood

Just in terms of talking about—I could ask you a lot of things. But before we move on, I'd like to find out—you said you were involved in a strike in Poston. In what capacity were you involved?

Takemoto

Just as a young kid, yelling and assembling with all the other groups under protestation. It was fun, (laughs) not in a sense of any political. I don't know. I don't exactly recall what we were striking about. But it was, in a sense of, some [of the] inequities that caused the strike. So to join with my friends over there together and spending 24 hours in—you just didn't go to sleep. We just gathered together like a mob scene.

Gatewood

Okay. The resettlement, I guess as a process began, as early as 1942, and the WRA

[War Relocation Authority] started moving people out to temporary conditions, and then it continued to 1945. And you had indicated that you—did you transfer from Poston to Topaz to study?

Takemoto

Yes.

Gatewood

How did you go about doing that?

Takemoto

Well, I had to go through the administrative authorities to ask for a transfer and the reason for transfer. [I asked] to get permission to travel from the camp and [I was] escorted to the Parker, Arizona, so that I wouldn't escape any other way, and put on the train to go to Phoenix, and then on to Salt Lake City and thereabouts. Those were the process that I needed, and of course, with a great deal of objection from my parents.

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They thought that I was leaving the family and to lead a bachelor's life in Topaz, Utah, and again to a community that was totally strange to me, because most of the people in Topaz, Utah, were from the Bay Area. But you had to go through this processing. So I have my records. It's recorded as being transferred to Topaz, Utah. They have every record of my steps that I had taken.

Gatewood

So you were separated from your family?

Takemoto

Oh yes.

Gatewood

And, at what point did you make preparations to leave Topaz for the outside?

Takemoto

It was by—(chuckles)—an order, I guess. The bishop asked me if I would not help the minister that had gone to Chicago to open up a temple, if I would serve as his assistant to do all of the contact as sort of a liaison. So with the bishop's request, I went to Chicago.

Gatewood

When was this?

Takemoto

In June 1944.

Gatewood

And, at this time, was there any consideration that you would be entering into the Buddhist priesthood, I guess?

Takemoto

Well, the intent came when I went to Topaz, Utah, to study. And, of course, in the United States there was no formal institutions [for train[ing]. So, just as—well, I didn't even scratch the surface there, because of the language difficulties and all that. But that was my intent. With that intention, I guess the bishop asked me if I would serve as sort of a liaison for the sensei [priest] that was to open up a temple in Chicago.

Gatewood

So you leave camp. Tell me about the process again, in leaving—?

Takemoto

Again, you have to go through the process of leaving the camp. And this time, since I was leaving the camp, they gave me a slight—what they call—traveling allowance. So after getting that clearance and getting my traveling allowance, I went from Denver to Chicago on a train. And of course, it's not too comfortable to be traveling that long alone where there's many military transports taking place on the train. And being probably the only Asian on the train, it doesn't give you a very good feeling. But I got there somehow. And a friend met me.

I had a brother there in Chicago, so I was going to go there. But since he was working, a friend picked me up and I stayed in South Chicago for about three hours. And I remember the street, Ellis Street, and it was on a third or fourth floor in an apartment. I rested there for a couple of hours. And in a couple of hours, I was completely bitten by bed bugs. And I—(chuckles)—telegrammed for my brother to

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come and pick me up. So that night he came and picked me up. But that was my first harsh experience. I've never been bitten by bed bugs, as I did. Oh, what (chuckles) a horrid experience in the first couple of hours in Chicago. But my brother lived on the North Side of Chicago, and he had a relatively clean duplex apartment. So I was so much relieved. And of course having a brother there made it much easier to stand Chicago.

Gatewood

In terms of—it's been said, really that Japanese Americans have kind of had to rebuild their lives twice. Once when the war started, and the second is they resettled into these newer communities in Chicago. I was wondering what was it like for you to leave the camp after this period? I mean, how did you feel in other words?

Takemoto

I guess it was a challenge. You know when you're young, these are adventures in life, and you don't think too much about it. There was a difference for my brother. My brother was just married and I was just a bachelor. So money didn't seem to be much of a problem at the time. It wasn't much of a problem. I only had $500, anyway. (chuckles) It didn't seem to bother me. I guess that's probably because I was younger, and those things weren't of more concern.

But it was an experience, because you would go and walk on the streets. I had to do much roaming about serving as a liaison to what is now known as the Midwest Buddhist Temple—laying the groundwork, and going to the WRA office practically everyday. My job was primarily to get a list of people who came from other camps. And one of the things [we had to do] was to write even a postcard to say, "Welcome to Chicago. If there is anything we can do for you, come and see us." And so, I'd be sending 500, 700, 900 postcards every week, to show them what we were trying to do.

We didn't have a temple or anything like that. We didn't even have an office for a long time. Finally, we found a place. You know, one of the things that was most disappointing and trying was that we had difficulty finding a place we could rent for an office. We went all over and went to a lot of these service organizations that had these beautiful gathering places and facilities available for usage. So we would go in there, and they'd say, "Well, we'll let you know." And we never got an answer. So facilities were not readily available.

But finally, as we were walking, we found a place on, actually on La Salle Street in Chicago, near North on 1300. We found an apartment that was operated by an Asian, and there was a front room. So, we went, and we were able to rent that little room. And you know the old Chicago apartments were ones that had these Pullman beds? You pull down the bed, and then you push it up to make it a living room, and

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a small kitchen. I think we paid $15 a week for that little place. But it was a bed bug-ridden apartment, so we remember getting these gas torches. We torched the bed and all the corners to get rid of the bed bugs, because they were just rampant. And we finally got rid of the Pullman bed, and made it into an office. We went to buy a couple of used office desks, and that's how we got started.

Gatewood

Who were you working with at that time, the reverend?

Gatewood

So you were going to talk—I think the question that I had left us with when we broke was the question of who were you working with during this time?

Takemoto

Reverend Kono. He had died.

Gatewood

So you two were—you had this office together. What kinds of things were you doing, or what kinds of services were you providing to this—?

Takemoto

We had a regular—every Sunday we had services in two places. One was in the South Parkway area—I think it's 5600. It's the South Parkway Community Center. They were kind enough to let us use their storeroom. It's like a loft. (chuckles) It's dark, the third floor. Every Sunday we were able to use that, and I think it was something like $10 a week or whatever it is for the rent. But they were kind. You know they were kind enough to let us use that facility.

But it was—you know, and please don't think I'm talking in terms of being discriminatory or anything like that, but South Chicago in the 5600 [block], that area was a completely black neighborhood, and the community center was used by the black community. We would have to come on the elevated train, get off there, and then we would have to walk in front of all these people who are just sitting on the sidewalks.

And, immediately, people were told to come in groups—not by yourself because something might be happening, although, nothing happened. I mean, immediately—of course, not only being Japanese Americans, and then you're going into a black community area, people have immediately this kind of fixation. But we had services there. But it was very congenial. It was just not in the area where—of course, there was really no area where you can call a Japanese—where you have a congregation that was Japanese American, except around Clark Street around there in that area. But people were able to find apartments or hotels to stay.

We provided services in two locations. One was right, there, on 1200 South La Salle, which was a theater. It was called the Uptown Players Theater. And this came about through the kindness of the Unitarian Church. And I remember the man, Dr. Homer Jack, who was the executive director of the Unitarian group. He made it possible for us to use that facility for $12 a week. And he was kind enough to say "If you can't pay it that's all right." But those were the two locations to primarily provide a gathering place for people who lived in the South Chicago side, and for

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those living in the North Chicago area. So the idea was to have those places available, and the attendees at the very first gathering was only nine people.

There was a tendency for some of the Japanese Americans to kind of frown upon gathering together, because before the evacuation we were told here in Los Angeles that in order to not cause any kind of problem, do not to be involved in any large congregational type of gathering. In other words, [it was] because someone might do strange things. So even when we started in Chicago, nine people, then the next time it was about 15. But my job was to primarily to send out these cards and welcome them. At least know where they're at, and [ask] "Would you like to be on our mailing list?"

Gatewood

How did you obtain their addresses to send them—?

Takemoto

Through the WRA office. That's why we had to go every day. And then of course, what we tried to do is provide, if needed—like, if, people who were staying at the YMCA or the YWCA temporarily, they needed places to stay. So we would locate [places]if we can, [by] working with the WRA to find housing for them, as well as employment. So that was, more or less, my job. Also, since Reverend Kono was a first generation Japanese minister and his primary language was Japanese, I was asked to do interpreting wherever it was needed, and [I was] also to be the contact for the FBI.

Gatewood

Who asked you to do that?

Takemoto

Well, why? Because FBI was—I was probably interrogated almost every other week or so by the FBI.

Gatewood

This is in Chicago?

Takemoto

In Chicago. Because they knew more than I did of the movements of the Japanese American people. We would have—that's why I say, I know the numbers of people that were in attendance, because they knew before I did how many were there. I guess the director of the community center had a report. So the agent would come to me and say, "Well, how many were there?" I said, "Well, about nine, 15," or whatever the number. "And what kind of people were attending?" If a Nisei soldier, who might have had what they call an r&r [rest and relaxation] was spending some time in Chicago, and they would attend the service, they said, "Well how many servicemen did you have attending?"

And the fact [was] that we had one serviceman give a talk at one of those gatherings of his experience. "Well," he said, "What did he say?" And, I have to be (chuckles)—I have to be truthful, because they know already what (chuckles) has occurred. So every movement that we made—like Reverend Kono, he had to cover St. Louis, Cleveland, Detroit and this kind of area. Well, when he makes a trip to Cleveland, well then he has to report. So I would have to answer. [I was asked,]

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"Where did he go?" I said, "He went to Cleveland." "Did he make any stops anyplace?" And I told them, "I don't think so." "Oh, didn't he stop in St. Louis someplace?" or whatever on the way. "Oh, yes. I forgot." But I was honest with them. Toward the end, I still remember the FBI's name. But we became friends, because we used to have lunch together, and we would talk about many things. And I guess he thought I was trustworthy enough to be able to relate with. But that was my job. It was my job.

Gatewood

A lot of things going on. So you became friendly with this FBI man?

Takemoto

Oh yes, very friendly. And then, he began to ask me certain things, "Why do all the Japanese Americans live in these kinds of places?"—like Clark Street, or La Salle, or whatever the area. He said, "You know, these are dangerous places." These are places where [John] Dillinger and Al Capone, and all those people, and bars. He said, "These are places where some of these Mafia people hung around, and you people are living here?" I said, "Well, look. Where else can we live?" It didn't dawn on him. "Where else can we live?" Who would rent a room or an apartment or a house to a Japanese American except in an area where you might say, it's blighted? Then, he said, "Oh, never thought about it." I mean, this is all, it's not his fault. I think ignorance is all over the place, because not knowing what the conditions are.

Gatewood

Well, you've made various references to the conditions at the time. In terms of housing though specifically, your brother had secured housing. Had he come to Chicago at about the same time as you, or—?

Takemoto

No. He came about a year before I did.

Gatewood

So it was around '43, then?

Takemoto

Yes. He was rejected—well actually, he went for a physical, and he was under-weight. He's a tiny man like my father. He's a very tiny man. So he didn't have the weight and the height to be drafted. But he went to Chicago primarily to train. And at that time jobs were very limited, and he and my other brother above me, they both worked at what they called the chick sexing school which was pretty popular at that time.

And it's hard work, but it's all what you call piecework. You know, for each chick, so many, then the percentage, and it's a 24-hour run. They are constantly on the road. That's what he got into.

Gatewood

So in terms of—where were you living at that time?

Takemoto

In Chicago?

Gatewood

Yes.

Takemoto

I lived with my brother. The rent was cheap. (laughs)

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Gatewood

(laughs) I can imagine. Did the Buddhist temple or the Buddhist organization you were affiliated with, were you finding homes for individuals?

Takemoto

Where we could. In other words, to go to the WRA or whatever and get references, even job positions and get job offers. We would at least introduce it to them if they wanted it.

Gatewood

Okay. I'm kind of curious of the role that WRA was playing in helping Japanese Americans during that period in Chicago.

Takemoto

It's primarily, of course, you had to go over there to register that you are in the area. And they were actually helping in the resettlement process—documenting and, in other words, to take census and whatever that was needed to help the evacuees to resettle. They had quite an office there.

Gatewood

What kind of services were they providing?

Takemoto

Well, as I say, in other words, [providing] any job offers or even housing—mainly those [things].

Gatewood

And this is something I think we'll talk about with Los Angeles as well—the availability of hostels for resettlers. Was that something—I mean, were hostels available in Chicago that you knew of?

Takemoto

Not that I know of. Most of the primary possibilities for housing were at the YMCAs.

Gatewood

In terms of the reception that Japanese Americans in Chicago received, what were the interethnic relations like between the communities? You had alluded to kind of the African American community in Chicago. They really didn't give you any kind of grief—for lack of a better word.

Takemoto

No.

Gatewood

But what we relationships like as a whole?

Takemoto

I guess you might refer to it as sort of a laissez faire condition. I don't think there was any kind of animosity towards us. I think more in the sense of—maybe if you were standing on the street I would have maybe some white people ask me, "What are you?" And I would remain silent. "Are you, whatever it is?" They would finally come up with, "Are you an Indian?" I said yes, and they would let me go at that. But I had not any outward cry of being a Jap or whatever, as far as I can recall.

Gatewood

In terms of the employment opportunities available to Japanese American resettlers in this area, what kinds of things were available at that time?

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Takemoto

Again, it was very, very limited. The girls, perhaps, maybe in secretarial or clerical positions. The men—you see a lot of the first generation that went to Chicago, they served as dishwashers or janitors in hotels. And for the women, many of them became maids.

And as far as working in the industry, they were restricted to jobs that had nothing to do with the defense. You could not work in any major defense-oriented, war-oriented equipment, except for maybe making some kind of camouflage or working in chemical companies or steel companies. Ryerson Steel Company was one that hired quite a few. And then, in the fields of agriculture—going in, more further out of Chicago—Maywood, Illinois, or whatever it is.

Gatewood

At what point did your family—I know you said your brothers were living in Chicago. At what point did your parents leave Poston?

Takemoto

My parents left Poston in 1945, around May—I think it was. And the reason for that was the camps were closing. My parents didn't feel like going—well, actually, my brother was still floating around, depending on what the position. They had really no place to go. So when we opened the hostel, I went to see my parents to tell them to come back, and stay at the hostel there.

Gatewood

Okay. So backing up then. So you were in Chicago until—you had said the end of January 1945.

Takemoto

January. Yes. I was here in California in February the 9^th.

Gatewood

And what prompted you to return to Los Angeles?

Takemoto

I was asked to return to California (chuckles) to help. Only with the approval of the sensei with whom I was working in the Midwest. I asked him, "I had been asked to go to Los Angeles to set up. Is it all right? Are you established enough to be able to handle all of it on your own?" And he suggested, right now they're managing, so they can do it. We started from nine members, and we developed up to the congregation of over 450.

Gatewood

That's amazing.

Takemoto

And that was within a three months period. That's how they got it going.

Gatewood

That says a lot about the volume of people coming to Chicago.

Takemoto

Oh yes.

Gatewood

And the reach—I guess, the effect that you had in reaching those—

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Takemoto

No. I don't—not what I had [done]. It's just the people's need for a place to gather. I think that's the main reason that was important. Because if you can just imagine, where else can they gather together as a unit? What area can you be in, where you can intermingle freely with other racial groups? They were right fresh out of camp, and there was still a great deal of fear. So where else but to gather in a temple? So they're coming almost an entire day. You know, after the service was over, they somehow dispersed, but someplace where they could eat together and they would go to the movies together, and spend the entire day. Otherwise, they were isolated in their own.

Gatewood

What would you say—along that line, what would you say that the temple provided to these people at that time?

Takemoto

It provided, one, a social outlet. A place where they could sit and—well, at least to be able—Reverend Kono was a dynamic speaker, and he just drew people. He had that quality. So it was also a place for people to have reunions, because they were separated and sent to different camps, and all that. And here they are in a new territory where they could come together, merge together, and be together. I think that was the biggest role that it played.

And we didn't even have membership. There's no membership. No one paid dues. The only thing that sustained us; of course, the sensei and I never got paid. (laughs) But, I didn't get paid for three months. And even then, I got, what is it, $100 or something like that? And it's hard to ask people who are just getting used to—I mean, almost started from zero. You have to assume that all of these evacuees are starting from zero. But it provided a place where they could get together. And I think that was the most important thing for them.

Gatewood

So in 1945, you returned to Los Angeles to open up a hostel. Which hostel? Is it the hostel where the Museum [Japanese American National Museum] is now situated?

Takemoto

I was there two months.

Gatewood

What was the auspices under which that hostel was opened?

Takemoto

Well, we call it the Buddhist Hostel. We were going to start at the Nishi Hongwanji. Well, [due] to some ramifications and difficulties that we ran into, we moved to Senshin Buddhist Temple. It's on 37^th Street now. We moved all our operations there. Although we had it almost set up to house people—but you know the way the Betsuin building was set up at that time, it's rather difficult for one. The basement area, there was only two rooms there, actually. And on the third floor we had the classroom, but some of the classrooms were rented out. And then of course, with some difficulties with the board, it just made it difficult to operate there. So we went to Senshin, where we had quite a few classrooms there to be able to avail the facilities [for] more of the evacuees returning. But I did stay there at the Betsuin for two months.

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Gatewood

I've read that—and I came across an article in the Times-a couple of articles—that there was litigation pending. And I don't know. I'm trying to figure out if this is the same temple. But there was litigation pending by African Americans who were residing [there] against Buddhists, particularly against the caretaker who was Reverend Julius Goldwater.

And I was wondering did that impact the decision not to open the hostel? What was the situation at that time?

Takemoto

I don't know what actually transpired then. See the facility was rented out to one black community church, and I guess—but also there was a problem of the rent that didn't come in. So I guess—it meant they had to evict the tenant, which caused some ramifications. But the litigation was not by the black people. I think it was by the temple board that had created a suit against Reverend Goldwater for what they claimed—what resulted in was termed a mismanagement.

Gatewood

Okay. I get a sense of what's going on. In terms of the relationship between the African American community—I mean, Little Tokyo had been converted over to this Bronzeville,

this kind of defense town with all these African American miners coming in. What were your initial reactions to the changes of Little Tokyo when you first came back?

Takemoto

Well, it was completely changed. The only thing that had anything to do with the Oriental or the Asian were the Chinese restaurants. The famous Far East [Cafe], and a few houses down there was [LA] Nikko Low on the second floor, and Lem's Cafe across the street, and San Kow Low. And the rest was all black. And probably every so many houses down was a bar. So it was—it was dark, in other words, in the sense that there was nothing else there but—as you say—Bronzeville. All the apartments or housing was also—even the temple facilities, some of it was used for people sleeping.

When your first impression is to see all the bars and all that; it's relatively frightening. (chuckles) You're the only Japanese American there, aside from the Chinese restaurants. And I lived in the temple, and it's a big building, and I'm the only one there. And I have to make sure all the doors are secured before I—oftentimes, I would try to get into the building, which is further in the old office section. And that was completely dark, because across the street was the hardware warehouse. Often times I come home to try to open the door, and there would be several people sitting

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on the steps back there. And you go and it's pitch dark, and here are people sitting right on the steps there.

I remember one experience. I just froze. I didn't know what to do. Well, I waited for awhile, and they—well, they were sort of inebriated. (laughter) So they're sitting there, but to have them there and—oh, what are they going to do next? You keep wondering and finally, after waiting, well I went to the door, opened it, and closed it. Nothing happened. And for what, two months—February, March—I was there and I didn't want to stay in the room all by myself. I would go out. I would go to the movies. And, of course, I wanted to eat rice. So I'd go to the different Chinese restaurants, different ones, and have my rice and Chinese food. And I would be out. You know appearances are often deceiving.

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Takemoto

But I had no real problems going in and out of the building or of that nature. So as people began to return, of course, there were some incidences. And I can name one case where the man, that owned several apartments or hotels in that area, he gave the tenants an eviction notice and the tenants became mad. I don't think any harm came to him, but this man came dashing into the temple asking for assistance. Well, who's right? I don't know. It's his building, but he wanted to evict these people so that he could—well, as far as the tenants are concerned, that meant they have no place to stay, right? So this kind of incident came, and came into our place, but nothing happened after that. But the conversion from Bronzeville and back to Little Tokyo, it took some doing. It took some time.

Gatewood

And during that time—I've read various accounts. One of things we've looked to as a resource are these reports that—the WRA had an analyst named Tom Sasaki who was working, and he wrote all these reports.

His varying accounts of what relations were like, and as Japanese Americans trickled at first, and then, started to pour back into the community. How would you characterize the relations between African Americans and Japanese Americans, the resettlers?

Takemoto

Well, when you say African Americans, I think you have to—it has to be defined. People who—what you call the residents of what was known, then, as Bronzeville? These are not California natives. They're from the South. They were the ones that were imported from the South to have them work in the ship buildings. They're from Louisiana or in the Southern area and were imported into Los Angeles primarily for ship building or defense work.

Then, you have the—you might say—the old Central Avenue blacks. And then, you have the blacks that lived in the Southwest Los Angeles area. There were three diametrically different socioeconomic strata, and so I don't know whether we can lump things together. You either take the southwest area—their socioeconomic

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level was much, much higher. You had actors—people who lived in nice homes. And then, you had the Central Avenue black community of which extends out to Watts.

And then, these—what you call—the nouveau blacks coming from Louisiana. You have three socioeconomic strata, in which you are involved in, because even with the black community there was some kind of distinction. [There were] strong distinctions, because the people in the Bronzeville were thought of being not only uneducated, but their lifestyle—that kind of culture from which came in—people who had very, very little in Louisiana or wherever they came from. But this was the first opportunity they had to make some money. So the kind of home life is a complete turnover. They had money now.

And of course (chuckles)—and I think in any culture this happens in a sense that people when they become—well, I don't know whether the word "nouveau riches" is relevant or is the same here. So what happens? People will take advantage of—say—here, they have money, and all these bars and stuff. Hmm. They can thrive on this place. It's the first time they can spend money. [It was] this kind of situation. But that isn't so, when the Japanese Americans began to return, of course—I don't know, because I moved out (chuckles) in two months. I moved out to the Southwest Los Angeles area, which is another socioeconomic difference there. But we didn't have any problems there. When I was in Bronzeville for two months there, I didn't sight any kind of severe differences.

But I think the relations with the black community in the southwest side, we had some of the chief leaders from the black churches come, and we would have a dialog. So that's my experience. I don't know in general, but we have had no real problems. We used to go to restaurants and eat soul food there. (laughs) We're the only Japanese Americans there. They would look at us and [ask,] "What you doing here?" But we enjoyed their food, and we ate there and got accepted as such. And we had, in fact—it goes back to history.

When we first started the hostel in Senshin, there was a black family. Mr. Logan, I remember him very well. He had a catering business. He used to have a catering business, [in] which he provided food for the studios. My father used to work for him. You know Mr. Logan needed help, and when he had a big order—so my father—well, he used to cook. We would just go around and go to his house and help with the food, and had some of the people who stayed at the hostel go help. And whatever that was left over, it was brought back to the hostel where we could feed our people.

Gatewood

That's amazing. That's a real interesting, kind of, look at the period, and I think—yes—you can't really draw any kind of assumptions about the way you would expect it to be. In terms of people coming back, at first I'd like to talk a little bit about that, and then about the hostel. What kinds of things were drawing people back to Little Tokyo after the war?

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Takemoto

I guess, [there were] the few who had properties. And others—you have to figure going into a camp, and now being told to leave camp, most Japanese do not know other than California, Oregon, and Washington, right? They don't know what it's like back East. In other words, for those who want to return to California, where at least they're acquainted with the place, even if they're fearful or they may have thought it would be hostile. Well, of course, there were rumors, and in some incidences did happen that was sort of hostile in nature. But for the people who were incarcerated in these camps, now they said, "You got to leave." And so, they thought, "Where shall we go?" Where can they go? It's much easier for them to go to a place where at least they have some familiarity with, hm?

Basically, that's why they came back to California. I mean, we're not all adventuresome, as you know. Well, the Isseis were [adventuresome] when they came from Japan to the United States. That was a big jump, but you know now they have a family.

They're in their—well, I would say the Issei people must have been in their—a good portion of them, age-wise, would be in their forties, early fifties. What can they do? I mean the three, four, five years of their prime period in their lives have been taken away. They're just coming to find some kind of balance in their livelihood, and then that's taken away. Now, in your prime time, all this is taken—to start anew—I think, it's probably the most difficult thing to do, right? Sure, it might have been nice to go other places, but if it's unfamiliar territory, you know that's hard to take again at that age? If you're 17, 18—sure, adventuresome.

Gatewood

How would you characterize, demographically, those who were coming back and living in the hostel in terms of even generationally? Was it largely young Nisei and the Issei, or was it—were people, your age, in their twenties, I guess, at that time?

Takemoto

Both.

Gatewood

In terms of the operation of the hostel, there were—this is just a rough estimate from accounts, by the end of '46, there were in upwards of 30 hostels the WRA, at least, had registered. What kinds of services did the hostel provide to those who were coming back, and how did the Buddhist hostel that you operated compare to others that were in the community?

Takemoto

I think basically, the facilities, the services that were made available were almost the same. I would say—I don't know. I haven't visited other hostels, so I can't give you a blanket [statement] saying they're all the same. Because how we operated—since we again, our contacts with the WRA—and this is (chuckles) much like what I did in Chicago—our contacts with the WRA to provide services for the evacuees to come in by establishing housing for them, and employment wherever we can. We put ads in the paper and made phone calls to seek jobs for them. If they were an Issei, we would make arrangements so that they could get their automobile driver's license.

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We would go to the DMV [Department of Motor Vehicles] to make that kind of arrangements.

In some area, some of the people didn't understand English. So whether they can drive, but they needed someone to interpret for them. Luckily I found a person at the DMV who spoke Japanese. So I made contacts with them, so that was provided. We also had to provide getting their food rations, the gas ration—all these things.

We assisted in whatever the kind of negotiations that they need to make with the WRA. And because of the inflow of evacuees coming out of the camp, from all different camps, we tried to restrict it to maybe a week to 10 days for them to stay. And if they can't find anything, there's no restriction. So there would be a constant flow of people—the change to get a new flow of people coming in. So that was provided.

And we provided two meals a day, and a lunch whether it's workers, we'd make sandwiches and go out. And so, meals were provided and a place to stay. It's not—it's probably worse than camp. Because in a classroom, you have to section off the classroom and have maybe four to eight people in there. But then we set up—luckily at Senshin we provided a recreational area—the Ping-Pong table, where they could play cards, and whatever. They had a place where they could relax. So my responsibility was to take care of the books and the turnovers and make all the contacts, phone calls, and whatever, and to go shopping for food.

Gatewood

How much rent were you charging these people?

Takemoto

$2.00 a day, and after 10 days or so, we upped it a little bit. But $2.00 in those days out of camp, that was a lot of money.

Gatewood

Yeah. I can imagine.

Takemoto

You figure if they were making only, what, $16 a month? (chuckles) It had to be service, primarily service.

Gatewood

Were you charging per head or—?

Takemoto

Yes, per head.

Gatewood

Oh, you were. So if you had a big family that could be expensive.

Takemoto

Oh yeah. It was hard to house a family. We can house couples, but families—I mean, there's no [room] for children. We had only one family that had children, but that meant giving them a whole room.

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Gatewood

Amazing. Well, a couple of things, but in terms of looking at—well, the housing situation in Los Angeles as a whole—how would you describe that? Of course, it was a pretty bad situation, but how did you help people find homes?

Takemoto

It wasn't easy. For the women folk, it meant maybe getting them a job as like a schoolgirl position where they would be able to work in a home for their room and board. A number of these were arranged. And later on, there were some boarding houses that began. See, like for a lot of gardeners, someone started a boarding house, so we'd make arrangements. And in a week to ten days, where they can buy an automobile and buy their equipment if they can, or place them in a boarding house where they have these day jobs for these people to work as a gardener. So for the women folk these things were arranged, primarily, like places in the home. And they were not all good. Some of them were taken advantage of. And, well—that happens. Here they can get someone reasonably to do the housework. It was almost free. So some of them were taken advantage of. Some of them were very nice. But you had that in all—

Gatewood

In terms of the relationship, again—you talked about Mr. Logan and how he had been a positive force for the hostel—employing people, including your own father at that time. But were there instances of a, kind of, antipathy directed towards either the hostel or yourself, or people in the hostel by members of the outside community that you remember?

Takemoto

None whatsoever. Well, I wouldn't say none whatsoever. I think there had been some incidences in the neighborhood. Well, in fact, my wife was chased. (chuckles) She was walking alone, and that happened. Well, that could happen anyplace. I think when the war ended, we had some rocks thrown and broken windows. We don't know who did it—drive-bys, perhaps. And we had some police that came by, but we were not too happy with them. What they thought was they wanted protection money, and so we reported it to the FBI. And I said, "This is what's happening." They said, "We'll protect you." That was only once. But we made arrangement with the FBI and right away I said, "This has happened."

Gatewood

People who were supposed to protect you.

Takemoto

Well, that thing happens all over. We've had—in a lot of times looking for places when went into the Culver City, Venice area,

which used to be an agriculture community. It used to be a celery country. We drove around there to see some of the places. That's when we were told, by people who were working on the farms, to go away, go away. But, we had that kind of situation. But overall, we hear some of incidences, but we were relatively unharmed.

Gatewood

In terms of the kinds of employment that you were finding for people—you had mentioned gardeners. And I know that was a very important occupation for young men, even older men who were coming back to L.A. What kinds of occupations?

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In other words, in terms of gardening, was that kind of a central force, or were there other occupations?

Takemoto

Well, we had a number of young people working in the record company, stamping records. I can't think of the name of the record company. They hired a number of people.

Gatewood

Like LP records, like vinyl?

Takemoto

Well, at that time it was 45s (laughter). Whatever it is. It's stamping records. And I can't think of the name, but they had some small establishment and quite a few that worked, almost like the midnight shift and all that. But even a lot of civil service positions were not readily available. They weren't available until—let's see, it must have began about '48, '49, I guess.

Gatewood

In talking about the temple, this is kind of different line of questions, but did the temple start the hostel itself? Did it start to provide services and like a Sunday service?

Takemoto

We did. A major commemorative thing we did at Senshin. I can't talk about any other places, because you know—

Gatewood

Yes, certainly.

Takemoto

We had like Hanamatsuri.

But people were free to do what they—we just had it to ourselves. And if they wished to gather, then fine. The reason that we did that, was even as we called it the Buddhist Hostel, it's wasn't restricted to just Buddhists. We had the Methodist group hostel just down the road. But even those people used to come, because we had an area where people could socialize and gather, so it was not restricted to just the Buddhist. It was open to all. But we did have our services. But as I say, just because you're staying here, you don't have to attend services or anything like that. It was pretty broad.

Gatewood

You had mentioned the Methodist. Who was running the Methodist hostel at that time, do you recall? Was it Reverend Inoura, or was that—?

Takemoto

No, no, no, no, much, much before that. This man had died already. I can't think of his name anymore. But we got along real fine.

Gatewood

That was one thing I was going to ask. What were the relations like between—? Because I think there was concerned—and this is in my own research, in looking at the Methodist Church, at its leadership level. There was concern the Methodists were going to lose a lot of people to the Buddhists. And you see this in their writing clearly. They wanted to start up the churches right away to have people going back in. Did you ever feel the sense of rivalry or in terms of competing for either ("A"

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members or "B") in terms of the services provided? Was there ever a sense of rivalry?

Takemoto

Not that—first of all, I can't think of any. We were pretty open. And I think the problem why this kind of fear existed, because we did have—in other words, you see, amongst many of the Christian churches, the idea of having social activities was sort of frowned on. They were rather more—what you might call—more religiously-oriented.

Where the Buddhist were rather—that's why the Buddhists were accused as being too social-minded, and perhaps it was true. And so we used to have one of the strongest basketball teams, and we had baseball and all that which attracted many of the young people.

I remember Nishi Hongwanji had been called the Buccaneers, which is one of the strongest basketball teams. And I knew (chuckles) one of the Christian minister's sons was playing in that team. You know, because it was basketball, and not in the sense of religious conversion. So, this happened, which—maybe this was the reason why some of them were fearful.

That was during the war, and then later on, the Buddhist said we should not emphasis—minimize these social and athletic activities. Which we did, in which then, Protestant groups began to (chuckles) have volleyball teams and basketball. And they took over what we as the Young Buddhists were doing.

Gatewood

That's really fascinating.

Takemoto

We dropped off, and they began. And so, we had then, some of the so-called Buddhist over to the other side. And this is the social change that you might say, and the religious change that had taken place in that kind of transition.

Gatewood

That's a real insight. I mean, if you look at the church, because I'm doing my master's thesis on this Methodist church in West L.A.—West L.A., United Methodist. The Buddhist temple—I mean, it's a stone's throw away.

Takemoto

Yes. I know. I used to be there.

Gatewood

Oh, did you?

Takemoto

(chuckles) I used to be at the West L.A. I was there 14 years.

Gatewood

Oh, wow. I didn't know that. That's fascinating. When were you there, what period?

Takemoto

1964 to 1977—13 years, yeah.

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Gatewood

Oh, so that's when you came. Okay. Right when Reverend Sasaki was leaving.

Takemoto

That's right.

Gatewood

Did you know?

Takemoto

Yeah. I met him several times. Good man.

Gatewood

Yeah, he is. I just interviewed him the other day, actually. It was real interesting. That's real interesting that you were in West L.A., because it seems like that church has always played kind of an important role for the Christian community. But during the fifties, it just took off. I mean, they had a million different organizations (chuckles) in that church. Did the Buddhist church, kind of—so in other words, the Buddhist church slacked off, a little bit, in those kinds of programs?

Takemoto

There was some kind of a problem that came up. Something to do with the church politics or something in reference to fundraising and all that. And it appeared at that time the young people felt that they were slighted. The whole group dropped. And to this day, that group doesn't participate that much. And I asked them, "Come on over." [They said,] "Yeah, we'll be there. We'll come back." But they never did.

Gatewood

Just kind of the younger Nisei, or like Sansei?

Takemoto

Well, they're not younger Nisei anymore. (laughs)

Gatewood

I guess not.

Takemoto

(laughs) They must be in their sixties.

Gatewood

So it was, them, and the older Sansei—I guess that would be.

Takemoto

They're probably the last of the Nisei group. They're a little younger than I am. So, anyway, I kept saying, "Oh, come on back." "Yeah, we'll get there." But they never did come back. And that was hurting.

Gatewood

That must be. Well, I—the only reason that I remark on that is because I can see it. It just seems like such a complete circle. I mean, from a Methodist perspective, they were just so desperate to convert people over. I don't know. I think there was just this underlying tension between the leadership.

Takemoto

Well, I think one of the disadvantages in most Buddhist temples—I guess this is a problem of the war situation and in the sense that—you see, I was about the first English-speaking minister to get into Buddhism after the war. And you figure there were only about three, four English-speaking ministers throughout the United States. So there's a language barrier, and you lost a whole generation in language.

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Gatewood

Did you develop, as many churches did with the coming of age with the Nisei, did you develop two language services or did you try and—?

Takemoto

Well, in West L.A. That was what it was. I took over only the English. I had nothing to do with the Japanese. And that's how we worked it, so we worked very harmoniously because we're not fighting for each other's titles or status or anything like that. I only went as an assistant, in other words, part-time. I gave up—I took a leave of absence from the temple in 1959. I became a schoolteacher, and I taught elementary school. For 21 years, I taught elementary school. I just did part-time ministry, because I couldn't afford it. (laughs)

Gatewood

I understand. (chuckles)

Takemoto

Now, things are better, but at that time, it's just starvation. And having a family, it's almost impossible running in debt.

Gatewood

Certainly. Well, to pull you back just a little bit. We're kind of winding down. You've been very patient. We've been barraging and barraging you with lots of (chuckles) questions.

In terms of, just talking about the community and what the community was doing to rebuild its life basically after the war, after being completely decimated by the effects of the war, I'm just curious what kinds of mechanisms did the community employ? This is a kind of an abstract question, but what kinds of mechanisms did the community employ to rebuild itself after—and this is kind of immediately in postwar period, and what kinds of things were available to people to start this kind of sense of community regenerating?

Takemoto

Well, from a Buddhist standpoint, I have to say that the Buddhist temple became the central source for a gathering place. Because you have to realize that—you see, many of these people who just came out of the camps, and a big portion are staying with American families in the sense of a housekeeper or whatever. The only place where they could go to socialize was at the temple. So Sunday [at the temple] was a place where they could socialize amongst their own people. That's why the attendance was at its peak for the Buddhist group immediately after the war. We used to have youth conferences at which there were 3,000, 4,000 people gathering. And we had—as I say—oratorical contests. We had even a queen contest and whatever. But it drew that many people.

And then, for the Issei, the first generation, where else can they go? In other words, this was a gathering place. So, as I see it, it served as a strong place in which they felt comfortable and that they belonged. So, in that sense, I think it filled a tremendous void, because everything else was gone. I can say that with my folks, when they were young, they were workaholics. There was no time for anything—only on major commemorative services. But then after they came back from camp, that was their

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only pleasure that they had—that they could spend all day at a temple and what was the Little Tokyo area. And it gave them a sense of belonging. You know, because it wasn't that the outside community was hostile, but there's still the element of the language and the cultural style that at least in the temple, they felt a sense of cohesiveness. I don't know if I answered your question or not. (chuckles)

Gatewood

Yeah, you did, and I'm kind of reflecting on it a little further. I was just thinking. That's actually a very good answer to the question. In terms of your own family, what were your parents doing at this time?

Takemoto

After?

Gatewood

After the war?

Takemoto

My mother was always a housekeeper; and my father—he's a tailor. He loves—he was what they call a handyman. So he worked around in the area—some of these families around Highland and that area there are huge houses. He would go, and he became a butler, a waiter, a plumber, an electrician, a repairman, and he was a gardener. Whatever the person asked, he just did. And he was wanted, because he was able to do so many things. And he just did it, and I don't know whether I can say he enjoyed it, but that kept him going.

Gatewood

You had mentioned that the Buddhist temple. Certainly, throughout the postwar period, but particularly in the initial phase in the resettlement it was such a gathering place. At what point did other organizations that had specific kind of Japanese American focus—at what point did they start to begin to pop up during the postwar period?

Takemoto

Well, there was an upsurge of athletic groups. Bowling became—oh, just a tremendous outlet, and basketball, and then, baseball. You had the Nisei, Sansei baseball teams. They thrived. And then there were a few women's social organizations that began to develop like the Sophis in Orange County, and some of these groups began to have gatherings. Those are the only things that I can recollect. Because after that, I left the area and I was in either San Francisco and Japan.

Gatewood

That's right. And in terms of—what point did you go up North? When was that? You went to San Francisco?

Takemoto

Yes. 1947.

Gatewood

What brought you up there?

Takemoto

Well, I was told to get married. (laughter)

Gatewood

By again, the bishop or by your parents as well?

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Takemoto

Well, we used to go around together for so long, so finally they said, "You got to get married." And of course, other people said we should get married, except our parents. (chuckles) They were kind of opposed to it, I guess.

Gatewood

Where did you and your wife meet?

Takemoto

We met at one of the social gatherings before the war.

Gatewood

And had you been in the same town together?

Takemoto

No, no. We lived there from the beginning of 1942 to 1945, I guess. We led separate lives.

Gatewood

At what point did you meet up again? Was it in Los Angeles?

Takemoto

Yeah. She came to the hostel.

Gatewood

(laughter) How funny. That's great.

Takemoto

Then, we got married. And I was a student, so I was a starving student. The idea of getting married was kind of frightful, but we did get along. We were told to get married, so we got married and went up to San Francisco where I worked at the Buddhist headquarters.

Gatewood

And then, at what point did you decide, or were you told—I guess—(chuckles) to go to Japan?

Takemoto

I went to Japan, after I graduated from San Francisco State College. I majored in philosophy and languages. San Francisco State College was a small college at that time. I graduated from the old building, a dilapidated old building. When I graduated they moved to the new campus. But anyway, after I graduated, I went to UC Berkeley to begin my graduate work in languages, but it's a different language.

I minored in languages, actually in Spanish, because they didn't offer Japanese or an Oriental language at San Francisco State College. So I went to UC Berkeley [University of California, Berkeley], and I got into Asian languages, and found after even at a graduate level, I had to take all the undergraduate work. I was taking three languages, Japanese, Chinese, and Sanskrit.

Gatewood

Wow! How did you do that?

Takemoto

I didn't. That's why I decided after one year, I'd quit. (chuckles) And I decided in order to learn the language, I'd better go to the country, and so I went to Japan.

Gatewood

And what did you do in Japan?

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Takemoto

I entered a university there, which I shouldn't have, but there was nothing . . . . They were not ready to accept foreign students. They had no program for them. So that was real trying. Two years was a total waste, you might say.

Gatewood

Which university?

Takemoto

It's the Buddhist University in Kyoto.

Gatewood

So you remained in Japan for four years, you had said?

Takemoto

'51 to '55.

Gatewood

Okay. So, in 1955—what were the conditions like in Japan?

Takemoto

Terrible. Right during the height of the Korean incident, and this is right after the recovery. They were still in the state of recovery. The classroom at the university, there was no heating, broken windows, only one light like that in this huge lecture hall. People would come and rip off all the brass, and they would sell it before the war. Creaky floors.

Half of the professors were purged because they were anti—in other words—military. That's the time when everything was done in Japanese. And the traditional—well, I just recently read in the newspaper about these Chinese schools—where the teacher lectured by reading. That's the way it was. They read their lectures. And when you don't read Japanese or we can't write Japanese, that was a chore.

---

Gatewood

I can imagine. (chuckles) It must have been very difficult. Being a Japanese American, how were you received by both your classmates and the instructors?

Takemoto

The classmates were not too bad. They thought, well here's a strange guy coming around. They weren't bad. The disadvantage I faced in Japan was having a slight knowledge of Japanese. They assumed that I could understand. If I had gone—I don't know whether the proper term "cold turkey," maybe I would have been all right. Then, they would help me. They said, "Oh, you understand that." I said, "No, I don't." But they didn't believe me. So, the kanji characters

—the amount that I knew was so little. And especially when they get into the Buddhist writing, it's a different. Are you familiar with Japanese at all?

Gatewood

Yes.

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Takemoto

Well, there's a difference between kanji and then Buddhist writing is pronounced go-on.

Do you understand go-on?

Gatewood

Yes.

Takemoto

Wu Dynasty. The pronunciation is completely different. So even if you knew some Japanese and could read the sutras and all that would be—most of them are written in the Wu Dynasty. Go-on. So, you know, it doesn't make sense.

Gatewood

It must have been very frustrating for you. (laughs)

Takemoto

Oh yes, especially when lecturers read their notes a mile a minute. Oh, I remember throwing the pencil. "What am I doing?" I just threw the pencil. It was so frustrating. But I went through that two years before I began to understand it a little bit. Then two years later, as much as I didn't want to come back, I got an order again to come back—your term is up. I said, "No, I don't want to come back." They said, "You're already assigned." Oh, my goodness. So, I came back.

Gatewood

You come back in the mid-1950s; there are a lot of things going on. This is a time of tremendous kind of possibilities in the United States, a time of great economic prosperity. It's also a time of internal struggle. The Civil Rights Movement is well underway. As a Japanese American, what impact, if any, did this have upon you?

Takemoto

Well, there's still job discrimination—strong job discrimination. As much as it was sad, that we think in terms of, yeah, there were a lot of possibilities. But I think in the terms of rank and file, there were certain restrictions that we had to face. You see, because I went back to school in '57 to get my education credential. Even then—you know that's about when teaching became available. Before that, a job as a schoolteacher was rather difficult. But I mean, you can say, yes, it did open up more than what it was before. But that doesn't mean the whole span of opportunities was completely opened.

Gatewood

Did the larger events that are taking place in terms of along the lines of kind of addressing these problems—these discriminatory problems, both within a local level, and within the nation as well, I think in particular how African Americans who are kind of addressing their grievances. Did that have any influence on your thinking, or what did you think about the larger Civil Rights Movements?

Takemoto

Well, the only thing I can say, it was overdue. I think because of this, other avenues began to open up. See, I think one of the big problems the Japanese Americans faced is we were taught more or less, or we were trained, or we were oriented in becoming white Americans, rather than just to be accepted as a Japanese American or American of Japanese descent. And when people began to have a little bit more pride—maybe that was much later, but when we had more pride in being and recognizing one's own heritage—

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This is the time—I think—like so many people who had American first names, gradually began to go back to their Japanese names. You know? (chuckles) And then, before that, it was to change it to American name, because they were—they felt slighted. But again, the strange twist of all of this is even the changing of the American name to the Japanese name, and at the end to have some kind of pride. I think these things began to arise. I think before that, I think if it weren't for the pride that the black people began to have—because we have to really be prideful of what we are. Until then, I don't think most of us thought about it in this sense. And we're playing dual roles, and it didn't help us.

Gatewood

So this is kind of a turning point?

Takemoto

Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure. I think some people even had a sense of being shameful that they are what they are, and that was because of the lack of acceptance, you might say. But you know, in one sense, I don't think they're right, in the sense that there's two things we cannot do is to change our color of our face, our appearance of our face, no matter. As I had taught in elementary school—the parents, even the kids said, "You're a Japanese." One parent came up and said, "I'm sure glad that we have a teacher that comes from a foreign country." I said, "Oh, foreign country? I'm California-born." She looked at me, "You are? Oh, what a big surprise."

And I used to tell the kids, "You know, I have a Japanese face, but I think I have something that you people don't have." I tell them, "How many of you can speak Spanish?"—you know, and there are Spanish kids there—"I can speak Spanish. How many of you can speak Italian? I understand Italian. How many of you understand French? Oh, I understand French, too, and I can speak Japanese. I understand Chinese and a little of the Sanskrit. You know, all these different languages, in which I have come to learn about other people. You people, you only speak English. You should learn." But that's the way it is. We sometimes have a closed view of things. Your spectrum becomes wider as you learn of other cultures and other languages.

Gatewood

That's very well put. That's wonderful. Just in terms of kind of closing up here. I was curious of two things. First of all, in terms of the movement for redress in the late 1970s and the 1980s, what were your initial thoughts about the redress and reparation movement?

And secondly, how did the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 —how did that impact you personally or your family?

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Takemoto

I think it opened up a new vista. And I think I have to really thank the young people who had the insight to look into all of this. Because the Nisei were told more or less to hush, hush. Most of them didn't want to talk about it. And I think, well, it was probably far overdue in the sense of—I think, in terms of my parents. My father who worked until his seventies, and yet never reached any real—

During the war, he lost so much of his—one, his pride, and not only that, but his economic stability and all that. When just before he was able to get it, he died. And, in that sense, you kind of feel sorry that it wasn't perpetuated for a lot of the Issei—the first generation people who actually lived [longer in America than] their actual life in Japan. The rest is in America. [They] work, work, work. And then they were incarcerated at the height of their productivity-which was the forties. But it's taken away.

Some people say, "You people don't deserve it." Some people say, "No, well I think in terms of yes." And I think in terms of my father who—I think really deserves it. But, it did-and if it was not done by the Nisei, perhaps this would not have happened.

It's the young people who—again, it goes back to the days of thinking in terms of one getting back to their roots and the pride of being of what you are. This, and surely amongst the Sansei, the Yonsei—why do you keep these things kept a secret? Why are you ashamed of being in the camp? I think these things all opened up. So we think in terms of how important it is to have this out in the air so that it's clear that no other race or any group won't have to face this same kind of condition. That's what I think. I don't know.

Gatewood

That's very well stated. (chuckles) Kind of closing off here, what do you see as some of the major milestones in your life?

Takemoto

Major milestone?

Gatewood

Yeah. Again, another kind of reflective question.

Takemoto

I guess, being born. (laughter) Well, and going through different experiences. I think they've all been a learning experience—a tremendous learning experience. Had it not been for the war, probably I would not have to become a minister. Realizing if I'm going to help and try to do something, I have to know what it's all about. And that's one, I guess, a milestone is being able to work for people, which I may not have done.

You see I originally intended to be a lawyer. I would have made a heck of a lawyer, because I like to argue. (laughter) [When] I started out, that was my intention. Because of economic conditions, I went to a trade school, a business school, to get into accounting or banking, but I was rejected. I applied during the war. The newspapers had all kinds of ads for a number of jobs that were open in the banks.

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These opportunities were available. I would go in and they would say, "No, I'm sorry, we're not hiring." Okay, I couldn't get a job working in a bank. I was recommended by a person who worked at the bank; I was to take his place, and I was rejected. But that was fine. I don't think I would have ever been an attorney or a lawyer.

So from that floundering, yes, it took many years of struggle. But, well, out of the struggle, you learn. You learn how to live with the bare minimum, just to be able to survive, but you learn. Those experiences are the most enriching, you know being in Japan where people were at their lowest. [I was] trying to live like a Japanese—eating food like they do, dressing like they do, so that they wouldn't think you were a very smirky American coming here, trying to tell us what to do, but to live with them. But it was an experience. So those are all of my highlights. Somehow what we think is the negative is also a positive. Well, you manage, even getting into teaching. I don't even think I'd ever get into teaching, but because I taught in Japan—in order to make a living in Japan, I was teaching English in Japan, which made me interested in teaching. Somehow, in the whole life structure, the patterns all begin to somehow fit in. And I had been able to live this long and enjoy it.

Gatewood

Well, very good. Is there anything that we haven't covered or that you'd like to talk about? We've covered a lot, I think. (laughs)

Takemoto

No. I probably said more than what I should have said. (laughs)

Gatewood

No, not at all. It was wonderful. Well, thank you so much for sharing. This is a great interview. It was a great interview.

End of interview

Togo Tanaka

• Interviewee:
•     Togo Tanaka
• Interviewer:
•     James Gatewood
• Date:
•     December 13, 1997

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Biography

Togo Tanaka

	"Most of the early arrivals [to
	Chicago] were outstanding
	workers because they were
	cooped up for all this time and
	no opportunities, and then
	suddenly you were free....You
	can catch a streetcar and go
	anywhere you want in the city.
	That sense of freedom made
	people really grateful that they
	had this chance."

Togo Tanaka was born on January 17, 1916 in Portland, Oregon. His parents immigrated to the United States from Yamaguchi prefecture in Japan: his father around 1900, and his mother about 1907. There were five children in his family; he had one older brother, two older sisters, and one younger brother.

In 1916, shortly after Togo's birth, the Tanaka family moved to Los Angeles. Having saved enough money from gardening, his father opened a fruitstand on Western Avenue, just north of Santa Monica Boulevard. His mother grew flowers on a street corner for sale, often bringing Togo with her when he was young.

Togo Tanaka attended Los Feliz Elementary School, Thomas Starr King Junior High School, Hollywood High School, and UCLA. Throughout his school years, he was involved in journalism and in production of school newspapers. While attending UCLA, he also worked for the Kashu Mainichi. He later became the editor of the Rafu Shimpo.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Togo Tanaka was arrested by the FBI, taken from the Rafu Shimpo, and imprisoned for eleven days at the county jail. During the war, he and his family were incarcerated at Manzanar concentration camp in Inyo County, California. At Manzanar, Tanaka wrote daily reports on camp life for the War Relocation Authority [WRA]. Because of the nature of his job, some

---

Japanese American inmates were suspicious of him and accused him of being a spy for the U.S. government. On the night of the Manzanar riot, he and his family were removed from the camp and taken to Death Valley for their safety.

In 1942, he and his family resettled in Chicago, where he worked for the American Friends Service, helping other resettlers find housing and jobs. In 1945, as the relocation work was winding down, Tanaka took a job proofreading and editing textbooks for the American Technical Society. At this time, he also began a student paper called the American School News. When he left Chicago in 1955, the circulation had grown to about 200,000 copies per quarter.

While in Chicago, Togo Tanaka also co-founded the Chicago Publishing Corporation, a mailing and bindery operation whose clients included Art Photography and Playboy. During this time he and his partners also started Scene magazine, which they hoped would facilitate better understanding and relations between Japan and the United States. While publishing Scene magazine, Tanaka wrote a column for the Colorado Times, a Japanese American daily newspaper. He eventually moved back to California in 1955.

After returning to Los Angeles, Togo Tanaka began developing a portfolio of rental income properties, as well as creating a new printing and publishing firm, the School-Industrial Press, in West Hollywood. Tanaka also joined the Los Angeles Area Chamber of Commerce. Shortly thereafter, he began publication of a monthly, The Great Westerner, for Western Savings. Togo Tanaka produced California Federal Savings' News and Views for twelve or more years.

Togo Tanaka and his wife Jean have three children. The family lives in the Westwood area of West Los Angeles.

Interview

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Togo Tanaka recounts his long career in journalism and publishing, speaks of his prewar years in Hollywood and Los Feliz, his college years at UCLA, and his reaction to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Mr. Tanaka was a historian for the War Relocation Authority [WRA], and he describes the Manzanar incident and the reasons why he resettled in Chicago. He also discusses the racially restrictive housing covenants of the prewar period, the various Japanese American newspapers for which he has written, the organizations that provided services to resettlers, and his return to Los Angeles in 1955. In this interview, Mr. Tanaka provides portraits of the postwar Japanese American communities in Los Angeles and Chicago. James Gatewood conducted this interview on December 13, 1997, in Los Angeles, California.

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Gatewood

It's December 13^th. We're here at the home of Togo Tanaka for the REgenerations Oral History Project. So thank you very much for having us here.

Tanaka

It's my pleasure.

Gatewood

What I'll do is first of all talk about some of the early years, some of your reflections. So first of all, I'd like to ask you where you were born.

Tanaka

I was born in Portland, Oregon, January 7, 1916.

Gatewood

Could you tell me about your parents? Where did your parents come from in Japan?

Tanaka

They came from the Yamaguchi prefecture in Japan.

Gatewood

Who came first?

Tanaka

My father.

Gatewood

What year was this?

Tanaka

It must have been around—either 1900 or shortly before.

Gatewood

What brought them here to the United States?

Tanaka

He was the eldest son in the family and he came here to make a lot of money and come back (laughs), I think.

Gatewood

What did he do here?

Tanaka

He did everything. He worked in the orchards, on the farms, on the railroads—wherever he could get work. And he sent the money back to Japan. He didn't save enough here. And so after seven or eight years, his wife got tired of waiting

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and she came here and joined him. But in Japan they had two children. And one had died in infancy; and the other was my older brother, who later came to this country—lived all his life here.

Gatewood

So your mother came over in what year?

Tanaka

She must have come [to the United States] around 1907 or '08, I think. I don't know exactly.

Gatewood

So your family lived in Portland, Oregon.

Tanaka

Yes.

Gatewood

Tell me about your siblings. How many siblings do you have?

Tanaka

Now I have just—I don't have any. My god, I have survived them all. [Of] my older brothers—one died. And then my older brother died at [age] 92, last year. And the younger brother died at [age] 78 last year. My sister was in her eighties. And she died, I believe it was two years ago. [She was] my older sister. And then the younger sister—she was older than I [was]. She died—I believe [it was], in 1966.

Gatewood

So you were the youngest.

Tanaka

I was next to the youngest.

Gatewood

So tell me what your relationship was like with your brothers and sisters.

Tanaka

I was very close to my older brother.

Gatewood

What was his name?

Tanaka

Minji—M-i-n-j-i. He was born in Japan. I didn't realize it, but at the time of his death, it suddenly occurred to me that we communicated always in two languages. He spoke Japanese to me, and I spoke English. And that was for our whole lifetime. I met him when I was four years old, and he was 16, and throughout his lifetime we were very close.

In the '20s my parents had a fruitstand here in Hollywood on Western Avenue near Santa Monica [Boulevard]. Minji did all of the buying of the produce at the downtown wholesale terminals, and I went with him. I was pre-teen at that time, but it seemed to me that we did a lot of things together. He lived to be 92, which is the oldest in our family. But I'm amazed at the amount of correspondence between us when he lived in Chicago, and I lived in California.

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All his life he wanted to complete high school here in the United States. He never did, because he worked full-time as the mainstay of the family. He toiled daily from the time he came here at 16. So in his later years when I became associated with the correspondence school in Chicago called the American School, I used to send him lessons in English composition and rhetoric and grammar (laughs). I looked at his letters, and I don't think that he improved very much (laughs), but he never had any difficulty communicating what he meant. Some of those letters are classics—I think. (chuckles)

Gatewood

You mentioned that your parents had a fruitstand?

Tanaka

Yes. Well, my father worked as a farm hand and a handy man. Then when they moved here to Los Angeles, my parents saved enough from my father doing gardening work so they could invest in a little store. There were five children in the family, and that store supported our family of seven. I drive by there even now. It was just north of Santa Monica Boulevard on Western Avenue. The building is no longer there, but we spent all of our early years at that location.

Gatewood

When did your family move down to Los Angeles?

Tanaka

In the year I was born. I think I was about two months old when they settled in Los Angeles in 1916.

Gatewood

Tell me a little bit about your relationship with your parents.

Tanaka

Oh, I thought it was very close. The family—in one way, it seemed by [the] definition of recent years (chuckles), we were dysfunctional, because my older brother didn't get along with his parents, but he and I got along very well. My younger brother was a problem for his parents most of his life. My sisters as teenagers ran off on their own.

They joined a dance organization that toured the United States, Canada, and Mexico. It was called the A.B. Marcus Troupe. They appeared on stage in scanty costumes at a time when that was scandalous in the Los Angeles Japanese community. But they were very independent. I think they were barely out of high school when they did this, and they were gone for three years.

I'm sorry I lost their correspondence during our World War II evacuation, but the letters they wrote came from almost every large city in the Midwest, the East, the South, the North of the United States (chuckles) describing their experiences.

---

When the troupe came here to Hollywood, they appeared in some very nice theaters on Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street. It was always a source of great embarrassment for my parents to say that their daughters were off dancing on the stage.

Gatewood

It was a revue show, then?

Tanaka

Yes. It was called the A.B. Marcus Revue. It was a well-known international vaudeville group.

Gatewood

Were there many Japanese Americans in this?

Tanaka

There were about four—my two sisters and two other sisters from a Hollywood family where their father was a Christian minister. They were called the Takahashi Sisters. The Takahashi Sisters and the Tanaka Sisters—somewhat of an embarrassment to their families, but eventually they were very proud of them. (laughs)

Gatewood

I can imagine. So in terms of your relationship, though, with your parents, you were close?

Tanaka

Yes, quite close. My parents were not on good terms with their oldest son, my older brother, and they had in a sense given up on my younger brother. So, I guess, in a way they favored me, which must have made me a pain in the neck to my siblings. Although in our adult years, my relationship with my sisters was really good. With my younger brother, it was so-so. But with my older brother, it was very close.

Gatewood

I see. So you moved down to Los Angeles in 1916?

Tanaka

1916. I think my parents also told me that it was two months after I was born.

Gatewood

Two months after you were born. Where did your family live here in Los Angeles?

Tanaka

In a little house on Highland Avenue and Fountain. I used to go by there quite often. It's no longer there, but it was at that intersection.

Gatewood

How long did you stay in this house?

Tanaka

I don't really know. My mother grew flowers—Bachelor Buttons and Carnation cut flowers—on Hollywood Boulevard and Wilcox, on that corner. I think there's a Warner Brothers theater building there. She had a buggy in which she wheeled her garden implements and me (laughs) and sometimes my younger brother. She grew flowers on that corner and sold them, and that's where she took the two of us. I don't know how she did it, because that's quite a walk.

---

Hollywood Boulevard was a rather rural area in those days. I think we must have lived there until I was ready to enter grade school, which was at the age of six. I was enrolled at Los Feliz Elementary School on Hollywood Boulevard at Vermont.

Gatewood

What are your memories of your school, your elementary school years?

Tanaka

My sisters had preceded me in the school, because they were older. We lived on New Hampshire Avenue right across the street from Los Feliz Elementary School. I always remember my first day in kindergarten. I didn't understand English very well. Although with my sisters we spoke English, I spoke mostly Japanese because that was how my parents communicated. [My parents] talked to all of us in Japanese, and we responded to them.

It's a rather strange experience that I remember, because I think there may have been one or two other Orientals. I didn't know what they were. But, it was my first experience in being in a group. We had two teachers. I remember them. One was very short and plump, and the other was thin and tall. Miss Jordan was the tall one, and Miss Lowe was the short one. I remember sitting around the room. I wasn't aware of the differences until one day in that first few months—I think it was Miss Jordan who forgot my name and referred to me as "that Jap boy."

And my father's first experience in this country was to fight with people, and he knew the word "Jap" was derogatory. So it clearly meant that he would resort to physical violence. He preached a great deal about his heritage. He came from a samurai family, and the idea was that you brook no insults. If somebody did, then you drew your sword, and just cut him down. Well, he said if you weren't carrying any swords or even guns. What you did was you hit the person. (laughs)

Around the dinner table, he would recount some of the experience that he had when he first came to this country. And always a word that triggered violence was when someone called him a "Jap." So that was one of the things that I remember.

I think it was Miss Jordan who said when referring to me, I was "that Jap boy." I went home and explained that to my father and said, "What was I supposed to do?" You know, he didn't have an answer (chuckles) for that. He was preaching all the time about respect for teachers and to be a model student, but it was one of the early contradictions that he and I used to discuss later on. He ended our discussions always by saying, "Teach the kettoh not to say 'Jap.'" Later I came to understand that kettoh meant "white barbarian."

Gatewood

What was your relationship like with the other students?

---

Tanaka

Early on, I enjoyed school from the very beginning—kindergarten, first grade. I thought it was good. I made a number of very close friends. I think I met in the second grade, a friend who was a lifelong friend. His father worked for the Los Angeles Times. His was the first nice home that I ever visited when I went to there. My friend's name was Dulaney Palmer. His father, Kyle Palmer, was an editor, I think, of Los Angeles Times. They had a beautiful home in the Hollywood Hills.

Dulaney and I were in classes together at Los Feliz Elementary School, and then we were in the same homeroom at Thomas Starr King Junior High. In those days, we had inter-class softball and touch football teams. Dulaney and I were on the same teams. We were handball tournament winners in doubles at Starr King. Then, later on, I think we both got a scholarship and citizenship pin in the graduating class at Starr King in 1929. We then went to Hollywood High School and took a number of classes together. I became editor of the Hollywood High School News, and he was what they call a city editor, which in those days was in number one and two positions in the journalism class.

From there on, we went to UCLA [University of California, Los Angeles] together. Then, in his junior year, I think, he transferred to [U]SC [University of Southern California, Los Angeles]. But later after graduation, we saw a great deal of each other. That all began at Los Feliz Elementary School. But then there were other friends, too, that I went to school with at King.

Gatewood

So you graduated from Los Feliz Elementary School?

Tanaka

Yes. Well, actually they had no graduation. At that time, [in] junior high school, we were in the first class. The school had just been built and newly opened. I think we began with grade seven at Thomas Starr King Junior High School in 1929. But some students went from the eighth grade at Los Feliz into the ninth grade, the senior year at Starr King.

Gatewood

I see. And then you went to—?

Tanaka

Hollywood High School.

Gatewood

What are some of your memories of high school?

Tanaka

Well, it was a bigger junior high (chuckles). My father always insisted that I get good grades, so that was the first thing I did. Although, all through high school, my parents had all of us work in the fruitstand. So when I look back on it, we did an awful lot of studying late at night. Sometimes, I wonder how—in order to keep up our grades—I think they had at Hollywood High a thing called the ETK. I don't know what its origin was. It must have stood for some Latin words. The ETK Society meant you had earned a certain level of A's and B's,

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and no C's. My parents insisted that I'd be sure and get that all through the years at Hollywood High, which I did.

Then in the senior year, they award membership in CSF, the California Scholarship Federation. I think they [my parents] knew enough about the awards that were given in high school, because of what they had read in the Japanese newspapers. They wanted me to become an Ephebian [an honorary organization in Los Angeles City high schools]. As editor of the Hollywood High School News, I managed to get enough support for this membership. On the grade level, it was no problem, but you had to also have support of people in extra-curricular activities. So I became an Ephebian, which made them very happy.

Gatewood

Then, you decided to go to UCLA?

Tanaka

Well, there was no other place to go. You just went because (laughs) you just go. The cost then was $6.00 a semester for an "incidental" fee. You make your own lunch, and you pay a dime to take a bus, and you went. It was just like more high school. I think I stayed out one semester, because by then my older brother Minji had left home and gone to New Mexico, and the family needed someone to earn enough to pay rent. So I stayed out one term from UCLA, and saved enough money working in a fruitstand to not only pay the rent, but to assure that the rent would be paid while I finished college at UCLA.

Gatewood

I see. What kinds of things did you do at UCLA in terms of extracurricular activities?

Tanaka

I worked for the Daily Bruin briefly. I was a reporter. I joined several clubs. They had one called the International—I think, the World Friendship Club, or something. (pause) Not much more than that, because I was working at the California Daily News—the Kashu Mainichi. It was a Japanese American daily newspaper in Los Angeles at that time. I got a job there two days a week to translate into English a column of the publisher, a man named Sei Fujii. And pretty soon, he had me coming down three days a week. Then the other newspaper, the Rafu Shimpo

—Well, I think there were three or four papers at the time. These were the two larger ones. The Rafu Shimpo offered me a full-time position, if I would come over and take the part-time job before I graduated. So, with Mr. Fujii's blessings, because he couldn't afford to pay what the Rafu offered, I went to Rafu Shimpo. That was before I graduated from UCLA in 1936.

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Gatewood

How did your earlier experiences in terms of your editorship at Hollywood High School influence to some extent your vocational choice?

Tanaka

It did very much. I enjoyed Hollywood High. I enrolled in the journalism class, because in junior high, my elective was print shop. I learned how to set type, and to run a Linotype machine, and to make up pagers. They had a school newspaper, I think, called Starr King Echoes. I did a little bit of writing for that paper. So when I got to Hollywood High, I enrolled immediately in the print shop and learned to run not only the Linotype [its commercial name was Intertype machine], but to run some of the presses. That was fun. Then from that, in my eleventh grade English, they said I could elect journalism.

There was just one class in journalism at Hollywood High, taught by a man named William Thorpe. He was a perfectionist, and he insisted that the honor students he would accent were only those who were serious about going into journalism. (laughs)

I think I learned a great deal from him. Not so much about writing and about English, but about avoiding compromises as much as possible. He was a very demanding teacher. I think in my senior year, I was elected by the other students in the class and managed to get to be editor of the Hollywood High School News.

Gatewood

I see. Why don't we talk a little bit now about some of the events that led up to the war [World War II]. Could you tell me where you were, and what some of your feelings were when you heard about the bombing in Pearl Harbor?

Tanaka

Sure. I was married. My wife Jean and I were buying a home, and we had one child on the way. We knew it was a daughter, because my wife was in the care of a physician and surgeon at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital named Dr. John Turley. He said that we would have our first child either in late December of '41 or early January.

At that time, we lived in a rather large house in Glendale.

It was just the two of us, but since we were supporting my parents, I got a house big enough so that my father wouldn't have to work. It was a 10-room, two-story house in Glendale. Then, one of my sisters and her husband lived across the street, and so, I think, periodically my parents stayed there and then came over. We had a room for them at our place.

But at that time, I was working full-time as an editor at the Rafu Shimpo. I was going down there about six, sometimes seven days a week, because I enjoyed the work. I think, in 1939 I had worked with a man who was a feature writer for the

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Los Angeles Examiner. His name was Magner White. He was writing a two or three-part series to be published by the Saturday Evening Post called "Between Two Flags." He asked me if I would join with him in this writing project. He said he would share a part of his fee with me.

So, I spent about—I think—two or three months with him as he did the research for the series at the Saturday Evening Post. It was based on how people could speculate on what might happen to the hundred-and-some thousand Japanese American residents on the West Coast if and when war broke out in the Pacific. That article was published, I think, in September—I'm not sure—'39 or '40. We became rather close in that we ate lunch together from time to time—both in Little Tokyo,

And he introduced me to some of those people at the Los Angeles Examiner.

On the morning of December 7, 1941—I think it was around 8:30 A.M. or 9:00 A.M. I had a phone call from him at our home in Glendale. And he said (chuckles), "Togo, you better get down to the newspaper. What are you doing at home?" And I said, "Why?" He said, "Because the Japanese are bombing Pearl Harbor." That was my first knowledge of the outbreak of war. So I went down to the newspaper, and started to help put out the extra for that day. I don't remember whether I stayed there overnight, or whether it was the next day, or that day, or shortly thereafter, but I was arrested by plain-clothes people from the FBI. I disappeared for 11 days and was moved about from Central City Jail to Lincoln Heights to Los Angeles County Jail. My wife didn't know where I was or whether I was dead or alive.

Gatewood

Can you tell me, a little bit, about how they came and arrested you?

Tanaka

Oh. Let's see—who was it? Who was the Hearst reporter who wrote Guys and Dolls? I can't think of his name.

Gatewood

I don't think I can even begin to tell you.

Tanaka

(chuckles) He had come in a number of times and introduced himself. He was pretty well known here in those days. One of the first questions that he asked me was, "Togo Tanaka, don't you have an American name?" (laughs) I said, "That's an American name." (laughs) It must have been either on the seventh or the eighth; two plain-clothes people came. I was busy working on the newspaper, and they said, "We're looking for Togo Tanaka." So I must have come out of the shop where I was putting together the paper. I remember my hands were dirty, and they said, "Are you Togo Tanaka?" And I said, "Yes." And they hand me a paper and say, "This is a presidential warrant for your arrest." (laughs) I'd never seen anything like this. I don't even know whether

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that was true or not. I never bothered to demand further explanation. They flashed their identification, Federal Bureau of Investigation, and told me to get in their car parked in front of the newspaper plant. I said, "Well, let me go back and tell the people where I'm going." They said, "No, you can't go." I said, "Well, let me tell my publisher." "No. Never mind." "Well then, can I call my wife?" (chuckles) And they said, "Nope." (laughs) They just told me to come in, and I got in the car and that was it. I was gone for eleven days.

Later on, when I met people like Roger Baldwin of the American Civil Liberties Union and others, they said I should file a suit. I said, "I don't know. I don't want to get make further trouble." I wasn't the only one in custody. I had lots of Japanese friends who I had met in my work as a Little Tokyo editor. First, I was put in the city jail at First and Hill, and then into Lincoln Heights, and then to county jail. County jail was more permanent.

As I began to meet all of my friends in (laughs) county jail, some of them said, "Well, let's get the American Civil Liberties Union to file a suit and all." Most of us were saying, "Look, we just don't want any more trouble. (chuckles) We want to get home and forget it all." I was released on the 11^th day—no hearing, no trial, no paper, no due process. They got too much involved in, I guess, what was going on there, so that they were talking about redress or suing the government for improper violation of our constitutional rights. But that wasn't even thought of. There's a war going on now and the possibility that we might get bombed in Los Angeles by Japanese submarines, or planes coming off the carriers.

Gatewood

So in terms of some of the feelings you had after you were released, how did your attention shift to the war?

Tanaka

See, my parents were dependent on me. And anything that Jean and I did which might—we didn't want them to be arrested and taken prisoners. They had no rights because they were aliens ineligible to U.S. citizenship, and the threat of their being taking off somewhere and put in a prison without our having access to them, really frightened us a good deal. And I think that we were equally concerned about her parents. My father-in-law was already in FBI custody in the first wave of arrests, and we had moved my mother-in-law into our home.

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Tanaka

My father believed that war with Japan would be a war of the races: yellow versus white. It's what the white man has done around the world for over a century. He had said, "Look at—If you had studied history, if you believe in history, you know that there is no place for you in a country that is dominated by the white race." That was the belief he held until the day he died. So, it was rather interesting.

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In Chicago before he died in 1953, I used to have a long discussion with him and say, "Well look, after you're gone, you have nothing to say about where your ashes are going to be, and you want me to take them all to Yamaguchi-ken." He never wanted to be a part of this country. He said that he had never experienced acceptance, and he was raised to believe that where you're not wanted you don't insist on inflicting yourself on your neighbors. So he wanted his ashes to be returned to Japan. And I said, "Well, I'm going to tell you this. I'll take half of your ashes to Japan, but the other half I'll keep in this country. But I'm not going to go back to Japan. I heard enough about Japanese." (chuckles) He accepted that. But my mother didn't care where her ashes went, except she wanted to be with him. So I have a niche for them in Valhalla Cemetery in North Hollywood here where both of them are. Their ashes are buried side by side. Also, I've been in Yamaguchi prefecture, Japan, where they were born. Their ashes are side by side there, too, and I have visited their graves there, also.

Gatewood

It's very interesting your father's reaction. How did your other siblings, your brothers and sisters feel, and even, you, in terms of your own reaction?

Tanaka

All my brothers and sisters are buried here in the United States or their ashes remain here.

Well, Manzanar

was a nightmare for us because we were a house divided. My father would join in with the people who were getting short-wave radio broadcast about Japanese war victories in the Pacific, and I was a documentary historian for the War Relocation Authority [WRA] taking an oath of allegiance to the United States at Manzanar. I was warned not to go out at night walking alone.

Every day, I was with a friend, Joe Masaoka. Both of us did the same thing. We were reporting as WRA documentary historians. But feelings in the block meetings began to intensify from April through November 1942, as Joe and I wrote those documentary reports. We were constantly told by my in-laws and my parents, "Don't walk around at night alone (chuckles) because somebody is going to get you." So we were always looking over our shoulders.

Sometimes my older brother Minji who is apolitical—He didn't care. He was noncommittal about the war, saying the conflict inside a barbed-wire camp was a lot of nonsense. But he always followed us, and he carried a crowbar that he had (chuckles) gotten out of his auto shop.

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On the night of the riot, he had a long butcher knife. I'm sort of a pacifist and a coward about physical violence, but he said that if anybody attacked us, he would go down fighting, and he had the weapons to show it. So it was a great relief to my wife, her family, and my parents when we were removed from Manzanar to Death Valley. It was a one way thing, because we never expected to go back, and the camp couldn't afford to take us back.

Gatewood

Let me pull back—just a little bit in terms of talking about the actual going to camp and the process involved. So in 1942, the Executive Order 9066

was signed by FDR [Franklin D. Roosevelt], and through it made aware that Japanese Americans were going to be interned. Tell me about what your reaction was to that, and what were kinds of preparations you and your family made to go to camp?

Tanaka

I covered the events of the months after Pearl Harbor for the Rafu Shimpo by attending mass meetings that were sponsored by the JACL, the Japanese American Citizens League.

This was an organization that for whatever its leaders gave as reasons in the aftermath of the war, they said that our Japanese American contribution to the war effort was to cooperate with the federal government. And when the Western Defense Command in San Francisco announced that mass evacuation and relocation would mean internment in certain camps until we could be dispersed to more permanent places, we accepted it as our contribution to the war effort.

For a short time after Pearl Harbor, further induction of Japanese American young men into the armed services was suspended, and some already in services were discharged. Since there were no other outlets by which our patriotism and loyalty to this country could be demonstrated, the JACL said publicly that, "This was our contribution. We will gladly go wherever our generals and our government tell us to go if this was the only way we could contribute."

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Now, some young men volunteered to raise sugar beets in Montana and Utah. They volunteered to do those things, which would lend support to the war effort. And our newspaper had a brief period where they said, "Buy war bonds." But beyond that, there was not much that these people who were a rather powerless minority could offer to do. Because if you took all the people of Japanese descent in the country at that time, excluding Hawai'i, you could fit them almost into the Los Angeles Coliseum. How many of us were there? There may have been 120,000 all total of whom some two-thirds were native-born American citizens. I think those were the figures. So it wasn't a big problem in terms of numbers.

But I guess mass evacuation was inevitable in view of the fear of espionage and sabotage. This was at the time when Norway demonstrated that so-called "fifth columns"

among the civilian population could be an enormous support and help to a military enemy, so that was a great fear here on the West Coast.

Gatewood

So in terms of your own personal feelings about going, did you see this was an inevitability?

Tanaka

You mean of what happened?

Gatewood

Yes, at the time.

Tanaka

At the time (laughs), I think, we accepted it as inevitable. Yes, because it did happen, and it was happening. It would have been—What was it—General DeWitt's two observations that were widely quoted?

One is that "A Jap is a Jap," and "A piece of paper doesn't make you a citizen." But then you can't argue about citizenship on a battlefield when you're losing the war. This was the prevailing thought. We were overwhelmed by it at the time, I think.

Gatewood

When did your family go to camp?

Tanaka

At the end of March of '42. We closed up our homes. I put up our home in Glendale in the hands of our neighbor who was a realtor: "Either rent it, or lease it." I didn't want to sell it. I intended to come back, but I did sell it eventually when we were relocated to Chicago.

Gatewood

What about your other personal belongings? What happened to those?

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Tanaka

I had our neighbor put them in storage. Most of them were stolen, but we had some family things. My wife had a piano that she had been given when she was about five years old, and I think it was lost temporarily, and then we somehow managed to recover it. But most of our things were stolen.

Gatewood

Which camp did your family go to?

Tanaka

We went to Manzanar on the first day of leaving our Glendale home.

Gatewood

And that was your whole family who went to Manzanar?

Tanaka

Yes. My parents were there. My in-laws were there, my older brother, my younger brother, and his wife, and daughter, and my sister. We all went there.

Gatewood

What were your living conditions like in camp?

Tanaka

Well, when we went there, it was pretty primitive because the camp wasn't completely built yet. There were terrible wind and dust storms that came in, and the floors of the barracks had these boards [with] at least a half inch between them. So in the wind storms you could barely see, because the dust and the dirt came in. That was March, April, and by May we managed to scrounge enough lumber to nail between the cracks. Then later on, we could buy linoleum from, I guess, down in Lone Pine. Everyone fixed barracks so they would be enclosed from the weather. But the results were primitive. Onset of winter brought cold and frost. We didn't have heat, at first. We brought in little stoves we could burn wood in.

Gatewood

What kinds of work were you doing in camp at this time?

Tanaka

Initially, they gave us jobs where we would help finish building the barracks. Then later on, they had a reports office run by a man named Robert Brown. Joe Masaoka and I were hired as reporters. There was a third person named Tad Uyeno. We had volunteered for ditch digging and other things together, but finally when they said that the reports office would have some positions, we applied. There were three levels of pay. So, you got either $12 a month, or $16 a month, or $19 a month. They said that jobs in the reports office were the "better paying" ones when we went to camp and left our civilian status. I was earning, I think, about $100 or $125 a month from the Rafu Shimpo. But I had invested in the Osage Produce Company in the Seventh Street Central Los Angeles Terminal.

Our first year's net profits were $40,000. Four of us owned it. So $10,000 was my share. That was very good income for those days. It would be like—I don't know (chuckles) what it would be, in terms of, today. But most people didn't earn $10,000 a year. I think the city councilman for the L.A., City Council earned $5,000 a year. So we thought that we had achieved the level of middle-

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income standard of living. That was all wiped out, of course. Now we were in a barbed-wire camp. Being a documentary historian would give you $19 a month, so Joe and I applied and we got the positions. (laughs)

Gatewood

What were some of the responsibilities of this job?

Tanaka

We were to go around the whole camp—this is what really got us in trouble—and find out what people were doing, and then write a daily report that went to the WRA headquarters. I don't know whether it was to San Francisco and then to Washington D.C. Fellow internees soon began saying, "These two guys are spying (chuckles) for the government on us."

That was the problem that developed when the first anniversary of Pearl Harbor neared. Joe and I were told, "Watch out. People know that you guys are informants for the government so they could keep a tighter control on the inmates." That was the vocabulary of the people who were holding block meetings. [They were] saying, "Watch out for these two guys, because they're spies." If we showed up, suddenly the whole atmosphere of the meeting would change. They did not want us to report to the WRA what was going on. So I think our days were numbered by the first anniversary, and we were told we "better watch out."

Gatewood

Did anything happen to confirm those suspicions?

Tanaka

Oh yes. In the rioting, [there were] people who were identified with the Japanese American Citizens League [JACL]—Fred Tayama who had been chairman, he was beaten badly. Somehow my older brother and others warned me, so I managed to escape physical violence as did Joe Masaoka and Tad Uyeno, but we were driven out.

On the night of the riot all of my family—my wife, our daughter, both my brothers, and my in-laws on my side and on my wife's—we were all taken to Death Valley to an abandoned federal government Works Project Administration camp. I think I had one sister left in Manzanar, and she was cleaning up our things. She was so outraged by it all. Not only by what had happened, but she was angry at me, because she had felt that I had caused all this unhappiness. So much of my files from the Rafu Shimpo (chuckles), that I had taken to Manzanar, she threw away and burned it up. (laughs) And I regretted that because a lot of it Dorothy Thomas at the University of California had wanted. But we went on from there, of course, to Chicago and started all over with a new Japanese American publication, Scene magazine.

Gatewood

Well, all right. Why don't we talk a little bit about that. So you were in Death Valley. Were you told at some point that you'd be able to resettle in Chicago?

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Tanaka

No. The WRA people, frankly, didn't know what to do, because they said, "We can't take you back to Manzanar. We can't afford to build another camp. We can't afford to keep this camp here in Death Valley going." So I said, "Well, I've been corresponding all through Manzanar with the American Friends Service Committee. I had done some work for them in Pasadena before the war. I had met Esther Rhoads, who was the head of the Pasadena program, and she came to Death Valley and said one of the WRA requirements for discharge from government control was that you would have to have a job offered to you from wherever you were going.

And there were two places offering me work, one, with Morton Grodzins who was with the University of California Evacuation Resettlement Study. He later became Director of the University of Chicago Press. But Morton had come to Death Valley and said, "Look, we can get you a job with a newspaper in Louisville, Kentucky." I believe it was called Louisville Courier Journal. He said, "You could start out as a reporter there for $150 a month. Would you like to go there?" And I said, "I'll go anywhere. I just want to get out of this place."

Then, Esther Rhoads came and said, "The American Friends Service Committee, Midwest office in Chicago anticipates that a large number of these people who are in government camps will have to go to Chicago, and the Quakers are looking for staff people to help in that relocation. Would you like to do that?" I said, "Well, whichever comes first, we'll go. I just want to get out of living behind barbed-wire, and having soldiers escort us everywhere we go." So I think she managed to get the Midwest office offer me a job. Then, we headed for that in—I think it was February of '42. That was the end of being behind barbed wire.

Gatewood

So in February of 1942, you decided to go to Chicago?

Tanaka

Yes, right.

Gatewood

And did your family go with you?

Tanaka

Just my wife and my daughter. The assurance was that in the relocation work out of Chicago, I could get my family out. My parents had in the meantime been moved to Topaz Relocation Center, Utah.

And in arriving in Chicago, I managed to get my brother Minji out of camp to come to Chicago. I found a job for him at a garage on the South Side. And we got my in-laws out, by getting housing that was available for them and the possibility of work for them.

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Gatewood

So you went to Chicago, and you made these arrangements for your family members?

Tanaka

Yes. We stayed at the Quaker Hostel on North Clark Street, at Belden Avenue.

Gatewood

What were some of your functions in this new position?

Tanaka

With the Quakers?

Gatewood

Yes.

Tanaka

They directed me to an office on the tenth floor of a high-rise building at 189 Madison Street with about seven or eight of us in that office. Three of us did most of the interviewing of people as they were discharged from WRA camps and came to Chicago. We were charged with getting housing and jobs. Those were the two main things. And to do that, we had to develop a network of church people mostly.

The Chicago Church Federation made available to us names, and meeting places, and organizations that would help find people who would open their homes, provide housing, or help to get housing and jobs for people who came in. Essentially, that was what I did for all of 1942, and '43, and '44, and into '45 when I finally left the full-time work with the American Friends Service Committee. I found a job in publishing.

Gatewood

What prompted that move?

Tanaka

Because the relocation work was beginning to wind down. As you got people into jobs and housing, they became in turn people who would help the others who followed. The government was quite confident that these people who had been in the camps, could now be dispersed and relocated on a permanent basis throughout the Midwest, the East, and even the South, but not too much on the West Coast.

Gatewood

So you entered into the publishing field?

Tanaka

Yes. Well, I got a job with the American Technical Society near the University of Chicago.

Gatewood

When was this?

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Tanaka

This was in 1945, and I was hired as a copyreader and a proofreader for American Tech at $200 a month.

Gatewood

Where was this?

Tanaka

This was one block off the University of Chicago campus. There's a building there that's University of Chicago Press at 58^th and Ellis. And at 58^th and Drexal, which is one block west, there was a big building that housed the American Technical Society and American School.

The American School was a correspondence school. It was the second largest high school of correspondence in the United States after International Correspondence School in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I was given the job of working on textbooks American Tech published. When I did that, the president of American School look[ed] at my résumé, asked me if I would like to start a school newspaper for American School. I thanked him for the opportunity and accepted the offer.

Gatewood

We can get it after, actually, if you would like.

Tanaka

Okay. They let me start a student paper. It started out as an eight- or 12-page paper, and then it became a 16-pager. By the time I left Chicago, we were printing and circulating about 200,000 copies per quarter of this student newspaper for correspondence students. It was called American School News. So I was reaching about 800,000 readers during the year. I look back at those years with vivid memories. I'd always felt during the war that we were a persecuted minority and quite underprivileged.

But when I began to read American School News letters from people who had struggled just to get a high school education, I said to myself, "These people are worse off than we are, because they didn't have a chance to attend public high school." I remember a letter of one man saying that he was sending his English composition papers, but he was doing it by a flashlight in a barn, because if his father saw him holding a book, he'd get beat over the head with it. (laughs)

These were people in the Deep South who really were less privileged. What are we complaining about when—I think one issue of Scene [magazine]—I recall realizing that hardships come in many shapes and sizes. People who thought that they had been persecuted and discriminated against have no idea until they get out and see all over this country that there are different levels of problems. We should be grateful for what we have. But it was kind of an eye-opener to work for the American School. I still read bound volumes of American School News of half a century ago, and I get a lot of memories about people who really tried to better themselves. Yet they were victims of a subtle kind of discrimination, the prejudice against learning that really afflicted this country.

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Gatewood

Indeed. So you're in Chicago at this time. Tell me what the Japanese American community was like as people were coming—?

Tanaka

Well, we used to guess. At its peak, I think, we said there must be at least 30,000 to 35,000 Japanese American resettlers. But you see, Chicago was really a staging area, because they landed there, and then they went up to Milwaukee or Madison [Wisconsin], or they went further east to New Jersey or New York. They even went to the South. But, there were reception centers in Chicago. And by the year 1942, '43, and '44, there was enough backlog of experience both with housing and with jobs that it didn't seem too difficult that the camps could be emptied without evacuees even returning to the West Coast.

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Tanaka

When I eventually returned to California, it was to Los Angeles in late summer of 1955. I bought into a printing and publishing firm on San Vicente Boulevard on the Westside. A man whose acquaintance I made over the phone, Ben Jaffe, invited me to come West and do some joint ventures. He saw that I was in charge of the American School of News.

The American School gave me a contract to produce catalogs, because I had started the newspaper for them. The News was a fairly good-sized job. I can't remember in dollars and cents. But if you had a 16-page glossy paper run of 200,000 copies, you put it on a rotary press. And I began doing business with an Anaheim printer called Rotary Offset Printers. It became the vehicle by which I decided that it didn't matter whether I lived in Chicago or Los Angeles.

My wife wanted to come back to Los Angeles. She was allergic to midwestern ragweed during the summer seasons. Our older daughter had been born in Los Angeles, but our two other children had been born in Chicago. We came back largely because—I think my wife wanted (chuckles) to come back here. I had said, "I didn't want to come back to the West Coast again." (chuckles)

I found too many nice places in the Midwest and the East, but she didn't have the exposure or the opportunity to go with me, because she had to stay home and take care of the children. But I felt that I would just as soon live in Madison, Wisconsin, or there were so many places like that were all great places to raise a family. But we did come back to California in 1955.

Gatewood

Okay, so before that, when in terms of your experiences in Chicago, at what point did your position end at the American School?

Tanaka

Well, the American School told me if I wanted to run school business out here, please do so. They gave me almost carte blanche to do it, and I'm very grateful, because they paid the freight. I think even in those days, they were budgeting for what I was doing. It ran over a quarter of a million dollars, which was a lot

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money in those days. Not only did I produce the student newspaper, but C.M. Elliot, who was President of American School, gave me the job of doing mail order sales. What the American School did in those days was if you pick almost any pulp magazine such as Popular Mechanics, you see a little one-inch ad, "Finish High School," and then they would have a phone number.

They had regional sales offices all over the country for, I think, twelve districts. The one for Pacific Coast was located on Hollywood Boulevard. And if you hadn't finished high school, and you called that number, then you get the literature from American School and tremendous catalogs and attractive folders. Then you had about 225 representatives who made their living enrolling correspondence students. If I had just finished 10^th grade, they would sell me a course to finish high school with the American School, and this would be accredited by the National Home Study Council, and it would mean something about getting entrance into even schools like Harvard University and UCLA.

I remember Mr. Elliott taking me to a vault out of the school's headquarters. In all the space—boxes and boxes of leads from people who had made inquiries—there had never been any follow-up. They made one call, and if they didn't enroll them, the leads just sat there. I asked Mr. Elliott, "Why don't you let me circularize them, and see if we can't pick up some sales by mail order?" It was very simple. If the cost of a single enrollment by mail could be under, I think he said $18, then, "You can have the whole list for free," he said, "because we're not using it." That became a separate department.

I set up a mail order department, and I think over the years we were enrolling probably 10,000 new students a year for the American School. They had a total annual enrollment of about 50,000, and about 20 percent of that number came out of the mail order thing.

So, long after I stopped publishing the American School News, he still asked me to continue selling for the school. I did until late 1965, and by then I had helped train a very competent successor. But I think it's a great thing. The American School moved from Chicago, from Lansing, Illinois. I still keep in touch with some of the old-timers. About three months [ago] Tom Kennelly, the president, phoned and he said, "Here's our new address."

Gatewood

So what did you proceed to do after you had finished working at the American School? In other words, when did you get involved with other publishing ventures?

Tanaka

Well, while I was working for the American School and putting out the American School News, I started with three partners Chicago Publishing Corporation located in a building on the near South Side of Chicago at 26^th and Indiana. I was associated with three partners—Jim Nishimura, Allan Hagio, and Ted Uchimoto. Jim died early, and the three of us were left. It was a mailing and bindery

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operation, but I didn't get involved with that very much. However, we were printing magazines. Oh gosh, when I think of some of the publications we did. (laughs) We started with one client who had a little magazine called, Art Photography.

Let's see—this was back in 1948, before we started Scene. There was Art Photography, and then it shortly became a magazine called Playboy. From the outset its printed copies were piled high on skids. Pretty soon we had a score of skids (laughs) of Playboy. Our client's name was Hugh Hefner. He was one of the first customers we had in the Chicago Publishing Corporation.

The parent firm was called General Mailing Company, Bindery, and Sales. We were located at 26^th and Indiana. We should have bought that building. We didn't. We leased, I think, four floors of it. That first issues of Playboy, with Marilyn Monroe's picture on that cover, was on our skids at that time.

I left the company when we moved to California, but they continued with doing work for Hefner. One of our employees was a man named Vincent Tajiri, who later wrote a book about Rudolph Valentino.

Vince had worked for me before the war in Los Angeles at the Rafu Shimpo. He was a columnist and feature writer. His older brother—Larry and I had known each other from high school days. Larry had edited the San Francisco Nichibei while I worked at the Rafu Shimpo, but Larry died young. We used to get together during the WWII. Vince did quite a bit as writer and editor. He was photo editor for Playboy for 17 years. He lived out here in the San Fernando Valley before he died.

Gatewood

So at what point did you decide to start Scene magazine?

Tanaka

The idea for Scene magazine was really Jim Nishimura's who owned most of General Mailing at that time. He was about 10 years older than the rest of us. Jim had a brother-in-law, Allan Hagio. You see there was a magazine that preceded Scene called Nisei Vue put out by a Chicago Japanese American publisher named Art Hayashi. I think when it came out, we used to go and have lunch quite often. I used to go from American Tech down to 26^th and Indiana for lunch. It must have been about 1945 or '46. We talked about starting a magazine. In the meantime, Nisei Vue came out, and we said, "Hey, that's what we've been talking about." So the first issue, I think, of Scene [magazine] was in '49. I think—yeah.

Gatewood

What kinds of issues did you want to address in Scene magazine?

Tanaka

Well, I wish that I looked back on them. [looks through the magazines.] You might take a look at some, you can see what—

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Gatewood

Oh, thank you.

Tanaka

This one was August of '49. Let's see what number this one is. Content—you see this was number four, so there were only three issues before this one. Oh, right. See this was the first issue in this format. The others were big like a tabloid newspaper.

Gatewood

Oh, it was much larger?

Tanaka

Um-hm. It was like a news format.

Gatewood

What kinds of things were you trying to bring out, or what kinds of themes were you trying to address in Scene magazine?

Tanaka

There is some issue in here—this was before Jim. At that time, I felt that if I got involved with this my bosses at American Tech (chuckles) would fire me or complain, so I sat in on the meetings, but did not commit to much actual work time. Finally when I went to Mr. James McKinney, American School's chairman, and told him of my involvement, to my surprise he encouraged me saying, "It's on your own time."

So in this issue Bob Ozaki, the writer, became one of the editors, or was the editor of this issue. At that time, my name doesn't get involved until a little bit later. This was '49. [looks through the magazines]. Oh, you know, by this time [issue], I was promoting American Technical Society, too. (laughs)

Gatewood

I see. What was your family doing during this time when you were in Chicago, and you were working in your publishing?

Tanaka

Oh, you mean my parents? My parents were still in relocation camp in Utah. I had brought my brother Minji out of a Colorado camp and got a job for him in Chicago in a garage on the South Side. My sisters and brother-in-law were living in Park Ridge near Chicago. They had their own home, which they had bought. They did a number of jobs. I think, initially, when they came out you had to have a job. They, theoretically, were domestics, but they didn't stay that for very long and soon had businesses of their own.

Gatewood

At what point did your parents rejoin you in Chicago?

Tanaka

Oh, let's see—in 1945 or late 1944. I bought a house next door to ours. We lived at 5548 Ellis Avenue, which is almost diagonally across the street from Stagg Field

of the University of Chicago. It was a two-story brick duplex,

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which we bought. Then, there was a two-story wood-framed duplex next door at 5552 Ellis. What I did was I rented it first to have a place where my parents could have their own residence if and when they came out.

Eventually, I bought that, too, because my older brother, when he came out, was staying with us. It was a duplex also at 5552, and he stayed upstairs, and I kept the downstairs for my parents. That must have been about 1945, I think, before the camps closed—maybe '44.

Gatewood

Were Japanese Americans, in Chicago, centrally located around a particular area at this time?

Tanaka

Yes, in clusters scattered south, near north, west and elsewhere. By 1944 and '45 there must have been over 30,000 living within the Chicago area, in the city and in the suburbs. Then [there were] many in Milwaukee and Madison up in Wisconsin.

[Looks through publications] This is a 1950 issue. I guess, early on I must have been selling American Tech books in every issue. Oh, in Scene magazine, we also had a book-selling department. Here was our Tech catalog promoted in Scene. Then, I co-authored a book on public speaking. That was interesting. At the Rafu Shimpo, before the war, they started a program—the Rafu sponsored it—to encourage Nisei, because they felt that the ability to communicate orally. The Nisei had too much of an Issei and a Japanese predisposition toward not speaking out, but, I think, it's culture, too. The Issei idea was that you don't go out and be a "blabbermouth." So the Rafu Shimpo sponsored a public-speaking class for the Nisei and got an interesting response.

We publicized it in the English section and got about 60 people who sent in inquiries on a coupon. Then from the 60, based upon their background and what they filled out—the questionnaire that we would send to them—we picked out about 35. And we approached Dr. Jean Bordeaux who was a Dale Carnegie instructor. He had been pretty well known as a public-speaking teacher. He had taught at USC, as well as a college in Mississippi. Also, this was his job. So we hired him to conduct Little Tokyo's first, last, and only public-speaking program sponsored by the Rafu Shimpo.

Gatewood

When was this?

Tanaka

This was in 1939 or '40. Then, later on, I think, the public speaking groups that the Rafu sponsored became a kind of a networking group. Later on when I became senior editor of American Tech, I decided that I would ask Dr. Bordeaux to write a manuscript on public speaking that we could sell through American Tech. The way I promoted it—it was called, "How to Talk More Effectively." I think Dr. Bordeaux and I shared in the royalty, although my name is just listed on the title page. I said, "Don't do that because I'm a senior editor in American

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Tech," but they did. It was priced at $2.75. I think we sold over 100,000 copies. I got one-third of the royalties. (laughs) I notice that we also promoted it through Scene magazine.

Gatewood

That's great. So, Scene magazine published until 1955, correct?

Tanaka

Yes, right. I think they folded it about that time.

Gatewood

Okay. In terms of the kinds of articles that you wanted to cover, or the kinds of issues that you were trying to address, what gave you inspiration? What was the source of your inspiration for much of the articles?

Tanaka

Well, at first, I think, we were absorbed with the idea that here were two countries and two cultures that had gone to war and had engaged in the bloodiest conflict in history. So Scene ought to be some vehicle for assuring that the Pacific Ocean would be a peaceful one. I remember we had a long discussion editorially, and at one of our editorial meetings, someone—

I think it was Bob Ozaki or Dick Takeuchi—said, "Why don't we get some famous American military man to encourage this? We've done nothing but write bad things about General DeWitt." We called him General Dimwit, but it was neither mature nor appropriate. Several staff people said, "Why don't we get Admiral Chester Nimitz," who was a fleet admiral in the Pacific and brought victory to the United States. Everybody thought it was a great idea, but they gave me the job of getting in touch. I had no idea how. Where do you find Admiral Nimitz? (laughs) But after a little bit of research, we found out he lived in Berkeley. So they said, "Write him a letter." I said, "Well, okay."

So we wrote him a letter, and sent copies of Scene, and said that, "May we have permission to contact you personally to get your support in what we are doing?" And there was a telephone call from him. I wasn't in at that time, but since I had signed the letter—I thought, "Holy smokes!" He lived in Berkeley, California. I had only talked to editors on the phone. But I asked for Admiral Nimitz and told him that, "We on the staff were honored to receive the letter, and we would be most grateful if we could get from you some statement saying that the magazine like this—which you've indicated—can be constructive and helpful. We would appreciate it, and we would like to have your permission to use this in our circulation extension promotion." I can't find that file, but he said that had people on both sides of the Pacific been aware of it, and encouraged activities of this kind, perhaps we might not have had to have fought such a bloody war. It was just what we wanted.

That one mailing probably got us more subscribers who were Japanese and non-Japanese. We have always been grateful to him, because he took the time out in the postwar years to help us do this. I thought that was great. It was most encouraging, because up to that time, we said, "Nobody is making a nickel

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(chuckles) out of this." To most of us it was a labor of love and financing. We couldn't really afford to do it.

But Admiral Nimitz's example kept us going for another period of time. I know he encouraged us. And our magazine inspired a clone in Tokyo, which I think is still being published. It's called Asia Scene. They copied us, but they put "Asia" on top. It's outlasted the original, because I've heard people tell me they see it once in a while.

Gatewood

So you were trying at some level, it seems, to facilitate these kinds of relations between Japan and the United States in this magazine?

Tanaka

Right. Because our past, our present, and our future welfare (chuckles) depended on there not being another war.

Gatewood

Yet, there's many popular cultural items that are in that—how did you in essence capture the pop culture, or make distinctions between Japan and Japanese Americans?

Tanaka

I look at the people like—at this time, back in '49, the editor was Bob Ozaki, and we had a Japanese section editor named Mr. Nagata, and then, Art Director Kaneko. But, I think, not only were they the people who put the magazine together, but we also had George Morimitsu, Jobu Nakamura, Dyke Miyagawa, Joe Oyama. These were all personal friends. We all knew one another. I think that nobody did it to make any money, because we knew it was not a moneymaker. (chuckles) Anybody whose name appeared on the masthead believed in this.

We were bound by a common hope that something like this could create better understanding between people in Japan and the United States. So later on I became a little more ambitious and said, "Well, if we could build a circulation in Brazil—because there were more Japanese there than anywhere else outside of Japan." We never had either the energy or the money to pursue these things that were discussed at our editorial [meeting], although we did briefly have a Brazil section in Portuguese and Japanese.

Gatewood

What were things that—?

Tanaka

Eventually, I think, we did take some consolation knowing that the idea had been picked up in Tokyo. The man who did it was a man named Azumi who was heading our Tokyo bureau chief. I believe he picked it up and continued over there. It's supposed to be circulating here.

Gatewood

So this magazine wasn't necessarily intended for Japanese Americans alone?

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Tanaka

Oh no. It was not. The first thing that I did when I had extra copies printed—I think there were about 3,500 public libraries in the United States, and we made sure that every one of them got—I circulated this to them. It was expensive for us, but we felt that at least if they saw it—then from the library circulation, we had picked up some subscribers.

Gatewood

One of the things—in looking at Scene magazine—that it attempts to discuss are some of the changes that are taking place in the postwar era. One of those things in September of 1949, the Soviet Union detonated an atomic bomb, and it really sent us into what would become one of the most interesting points in American history, the Cold War. I was wondering to what extent was the Scene magazine influenced by some of the Cold War culture that was going on?

Tanaka

I think we do have references in editorial and otherwise to that, although I haven't gone back. I do remember I used to lunch regularly with William Terry Couch. Does this name ring a bell with you at all?

Gatewood

Mmm.

Tanaka

He was the director of the University Chicago Press. He had been induced by Chancellor Hutchins to leave Chapel Hill, North Carolina and come to Chicago. Bill Couch took over the University Chicago Press. At that time, since my office was just one block away, Couch and I used to lunch from time to time at the Quadrangle Club on the University Chicago campus. Even before he came, I was on the mailing list of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, which was published by the University Chicago out of the same building where Couch was. I lived down the street, two blocks from the University Chicago Press. Stagg Field was across the street. Gee, among my things in the attic—I'm not sure where they are now, but I had every issue of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists from the time they started until about 1955.

There was a white paper. I think it was a full-page issue that frightened everybody that I knew. It was on the progress made in biological warfare for purposes of impressing the reader, the writer. I can't remember whether it was attributed to some Nobel Prize winning scientist at the University of Chicago who helped develop the atom bomb. It said that one thimble full or half a thimble full of this bacteria put in the Chicago cribs of Lake Michigan overnight would kill three million people, because it would be in the water supply.

When you thought back then of the ability of scientists to destroy human life, it was incredible. Yet this is what we were capable of doing a half of century ago, but we haven't done it. Now they're talking about after Desert Storm what could have been done. There must be some instinct for self-survival in the human (laughs) species that somehow prevents us no matter whether we have a Hitler or a Saddam. This is incredible.

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Gatewood

So did these concerns carry over into some of the editorial decisions of Scene magazine?

Tanaka

I think so. I haven't read these in some time, but I'm sure that we would have been concerned that mankind's ability to survive knew that we're not going to use weapons that we have at our disposal, and we haven't.

Gatewood

Just digressing, somewhat, what were your interactions with the Japanese American community in Chicago? Did you have—?

Tanaka

Well, I was very close to them—I thought. I joined most of the organizations, and we felt after the experience on the West Coast that—who was it that said, "If you don't hang together, you'll hang separately"? (chuckles) I think that was a feeling.

I think the growing up in California developed in just about every Nisei I ever knew, a sense or a feeling of what the sociologist call "in-group solidarity." That I think that the people who are targets of anti-Oriental feeling on the West Coast had a lot in common with those who suffered anti-Semitic discrimination on the East Coast. I think there was a parallel there.

Gatewood

What kinds of organizations did you belong to?

Tanaka

Here?

Gatewood

In Chicago, actually.

Tanaka

Oh, in Chicago? Well, I belonged to anything that was Quaker—the 57^th-Street Meeting of Friends. I belonged to the Japanese American Citizens League. I belonged to the United Church Federation. The City Club of Chicago, which would be comparable to—is there a Commonwealth Club up in San Francisco?

Gatewood

Yes.

Tanaka

City Club would be like that. That's how I got my job at American Tech through a friend whom I met at City Club who said, "Hey. Go see Mr. Barr, who's President of American Tech." I said, "What is that?" And he said, "Well, your background is editing. You want to be in the publishing, don't you?" I said, "Yeah." So he gave me a letter of introduction. Mr. Barr was never at American Tech. But the people, who I went to see were impressed by the letter of introduction. I received an interview, and I had a job.

Gatewood

When you first came to Chicago, and you were working for the American Friends Service Committee, what were some of your responsibilities?

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Tanaka

They put me to work [on] two things. One, telephone and getting appointments with the heads of companies or personnel managers who had already hired early resettler arrivals. What I did, was go there and talk with them and say that, "I am interviewing people who are coming out of camps, and they are highly qualified, who, in some cases, were told they were over-educated. But all of them had one thing in common: they want to work. They've been cooped up in camps. They've been denied their freedom. But if you'll just give them a chance, you'll find that they're very good workers."

That was my first job. And my second, was to sit in that office and ask the evacuees—the word went out to all the camps that American Friends Service Committee, as well as the WRA has job employment services. So we corresponded with people in camp, as well as people in Chicago. The idea was to put people who needed work in touch with people who needed workers.

Gatewood

What kinds of jobs did you manage to find for Japanese Americans?

Tanaka

At first they were factory jobs, assembling things. And then, pretty soon (chuckles) as the level of skills that were needed—I remember there was a man who had owned his own business and had hired over 100 people on the West Coast. He had written on his job application, "I will do anything the job requires." He wanted a job so he could get out of camp. I have files. And this firm eventually hired over a couple of hundred. It was a large firm. Curtiss Candy Company was one that hired a lot of them.

Most of the early arrivals were outstanding workers, because they were cooped up for all this time and no opportunities. And then suddenly you were free. Nobody can tell you that you can't go beyond that barbed wire or that watchtower. You can catch a streetcar and go anywhere you want in the city. That sense of freedom made people really grateful that they had this chance. First people we got referring jobs were really outstanding. They worked hard, and they were uncomplaining. And there were no troublemakers among them.

Gatewood

How did the non-Japanese Americans in Chicago react to such a large concentration of Japanese Americans?

Tanaka

Well, I think that the few that I knew who had been there before—because I had been to Chicago before the war and had met some of the people who were leaders—they would welcome them. They joined in. I think there was one man named Dick Shishima had been a long-time resident of Chicago. He spent all kinds of time and his personal money to help the new arrivals. By and large, they were welcomed by the old-time residents. There weren't very many of them, but it was such a contrast to what people had gone through on the West Coast.

Gatewood

So you don't recall any negative kind of interactions with individuals in Chicago?

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Tanaka

Not that I could—There must have been, but I don't recall them.

Gatewood

You, personally?

Tanaka

Um-hm.

Gatewood

I just want to just get a sense of what life was like in Chicago, and then leading up to your move to Los Angeles. What was the housing situation like in Chicago?

Tanaka

Very difficult, very difficult—housing at wartime. And I think the counseling was helpful. There was a Maryknoll brother named Theophane Walsh who just did everything possible to get housing for new arrivals.

It was kind of interesting because counseling that went on said we suffered all this because the Japanese on the West Coast self-segregated themselves. They got the Little Tokyo's, and (chuckles) pretty soon they became targets of people who didn't want clumps of Japanese in one place.

So the whole idea was—what do they call it—integrate? That was the word that they used. (laughs) In other words, don't all cluster in one place. But then, wartime housing was very difficult. They discovered that when they were able to get into one area, they tended to do that. But I think the scattering of them occurred because it was policy much more than ever happened out here on the West Coast. They didn't want another Little Tokyo in Chicago. I think that was a common expression.

Gatewood

Who secured housing for you in Chicago, or how did you secure housing in Chicago given the conditions?

Tanaka

Well, we walked the streets, and knocked on doors, and rang doorbells. I remember spending three months. There was a Baptist minister named Jitsuo Morikawa. He was a Canadian. Jitsuo and I walked, I think, about two miles every day from early morning to night from 51^st Street, Hyde Park Boulevard in Chicago, 51^st, 52^nd, 53^rd, 54^th, 55^th, 56^th, 57^th—all the way to 63^rd. That was from the lake to over to maybe Western Avenue, which was a pretty big area.

We must have knocked on doors and introduced ourselves to over a thousand homes, I'm sure—maybe a couple of thousand. It was an amazing experience. Somewhere I have my notes that I took. People didn't know what we were. We explained what we were, and we were both pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and the willingness.

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Tanaka

Once in a while we'd get a door slammed in our face that, "We've got our sons in Bataan, or in the Philippines. We don't want to have anything to do with any Japs," etc. But that was rare. That was unusual. Most of the people were friendly.

Of course, we started out with a level of expectation that nobody really wanted to help us. So this made it all the more pleasantly surprising. Because I know Jitsuo and I—later he became minister of, I think, the Hyde Park Baptist Church which was an integrated church, and that was interesting. He and I had gone to UCLA together. We had known each other before the war.

But I look back on that experience when we went from door to door as a discovery that, my gosh, coming from the West Coast we were wrong in stereotyping how people in the United States were regarding others. If we didn't say we were Japanese, we (chuckles) might have not even have been questioned. Most of them didn't know what we were, except that we were obviously Oriental. That was about the size of it.

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[Interview resumes as interviewer asks about a framed-embroidery on the wall.]

Tanaka

—my mother-in-law, I think, did it in Manzanar. I framed it. She did it with her needle or hands.

Gatewood

Wow!

Tanaka

She did do the painting, and then she did the needlework.

Gatewood

It's beautiful. It's really beautiful. So we were talking about housing and some of the difficulties that you encountered initially when you were in Chicago. Where were you staying when you first came? When you came, it was you, and your wife, and your daughter?

Tanaka

—and daughter, right. We were at North Clark Street, about a mile and a half from the Loop, downtown.

The Quakers had leased a large home, and then turned it into a hostel so that new arrivals could stay there and go on to more permanent housing. It was interesting because, I think, in the 1920s, on North Clark Street, there was a garage about three blocks from where we stayed. As we

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took the streetcar to the hostel from the Chicago Northwestern station carrying our bags with us, a passenger, a total stranger on the streetcar said, "See that garage?" I said, "Yeah." "That's where the Capone gang had (chuckles) lined up and massacred the gangsters."

That was our introduction to (laughs) the Belden Hostel two blocks north of the garage. The first thing we did was (chuckles) when we got settled I said, "Let's take a walk, and go down and see the garage." (chuckles) The people who occupied the garage knew all about it. They took us in and showed us where the blood spots were. But that was Chicago. We knew we were in new territory.

Gatewood

What was the hostel like?

Tanaka

It was nice. Of course, there were three of us. We had divided us up into—I don't remember how many—maybe a dozen people stayed at a time, but the idea was to get them moved on. I don't think we stayed there more than, maybe, three or four days, because on the second day, in addition to looking at the Capone (chuckles) historic site, I took a streetcar. I went down to the far South Side and found an apartment on Cornell, which is near the University of Chicago, not too far. I rented an apartment, which had no private bathroom. It was a facility for the whole floor. I think we stayed there about two weeks while the people at the American Friends Service Committee looked around to see where I might find a more permanent place.

A man named Edwin Morgenroth who headed the Quaker office said that if we would go in with him and his wife, they would lease a great big home at 5831 Blackstone which was across the street from the International House at University of Chicago. There was a one bedroom with an apartment on the third floor, since there was just the two of us and an infant, we thought that would be sufficient. So, we rented that for about, I think, six months until we found—no, we must have been there longer than that—till we found a place that we could buy. We might have been there a year.

Gatewood

So did you continue looking all through this time with Reverend Morikawa for other—?

Tanaka

Oh. That came later after we were there. In '42, we lived at Blackstone. So we must have been there over a year, maybe two years. Reverend Morikawa came either in '43 or '44. He and I walked the streets. I think at that time I made a little note saying about two-thirds of the people didn't want to rent to us. A third did, which was a vast improvement over West Coast.

Gatewood

You had said that the Quakers—because you were working with them—?

Tanaka

Brethren.

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Gatewood

—they were helpful to finding housing. What kinds of other organizations helped Japanese Americans find housing in Chicago?

Tanaka

Well, the Japanese American Citizens League had an office right next to ours on the same floor at the same building, and they organized. But then the local groups they were mostly church affiliated. The Chicago Church Federation reached out into all the networks of Protestant churches. Then, the Maryknoll missionaries who came from the West Coast, I think, covered the Catholic organizations. In Chicago, it's predominantly Catholic.

I kept little diaries of those years. [I spoke to] groups for which the Service Committee made appointments. So I could go out and tell the relocation story, which were largely religious groups. Housing was a big problem, though. It definitely was, because there was wartime shortage, too, and that contributed to it.

Gatewood

What kinds of places—or was this a factor? What kinds of places were turned into hostels, or were hostels made available to Japanese Americans?

Tanaka

Yeah, large old mansions that had out-lived their original purposes. But then there weren't that many of them. The Brethren had one. The Quakers had one. There was a local Japanese American organization. I think it was called the Chicago Resettlers,

and they had a number of them. I think homes on La Salle, on Wells, on Clark. That was the general area. Then later on, as the new arrivals became settled they had places—I think the YMCA on Hyde Park Boulevard, which was 51^st Street—if I remember—had places.

Gatewood

But most of these were church-sponsored?

Tanaka

Yes, they were, very definitely.

Gatewood

Just in terms of talking, I'm just trying to get a sense—and then we'll move into your actual move to Los Angeles, in 1955. But I'm trying to get a sense of the Japanese American community in Chicago. In terms of networks, or—what kinds of shops or organizations were available to Japanese Americans that really provided a sense of community? Was there such a—?

Tanaka

Well, I think the first one as I remember that was in Chicago was called Chicago Resettler's Committee. I can't remember the name of the Japanese American persons who were responsible, but it was very, very active. They had offices in that same building where the Quakers were, and they met regularly. There was a

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man named Harry Mayeda, as I remember, who organized a number of groups to help new arrivals, then, this man named Ishida, he was involved.

The Japanese American Citizens League had a man named Dr. Tom Yatabe.

He was a dentist, and I think at the time of the war, was national president of that organization. He had an office devoted full-time to helping new arrivals to find housing and jobs. But in addition to that, the Catholic, the Protestant churches, and a number of Jewish synagogues were involved in helping the new arrivals. As I remember, there was a man who was a professor at one of the colleges there named Norman Sigband, who a little bit later moved out to the West Coast and taught at the University of Southern California.

But I think every religious group, that I recall meeting in Chicago, welcomed the new arrivals. I think a number of synagogues on the lakeshore. That's when I first learned that there were—what is it—the orthodox, and then conservatives, and the reformed Jewish, but they were all involved in the welcoming.

Gatewood

What about in terms of the Japanese Americans themselves? Did you start seeing Japanese American merchants set up shop?

Tanaka

Oh yes, you bet—on North Clark Street. One of the early ones was Diamond—I think—Mercantile company. It was run by a man named Toguri, who was very, very helpful to the resettlers. Then later, he had the notoriety because his daughter was involved as Tokyo Rose.

Gatewood

Iva Toguri, how interesting.

Tanaka

He was one of the early people who did a great deal to help new arrivals. Quite a few businesses did grow and develop back there.

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Gatewood

What kinds of services did these businesses provide?

Tanaka

The one that I'm most familiar with, of course, was my partners. They did General Mailing Service and Sales. What they did was they hired about—I think, at our peak we must have had over 125—maybe almost close to 200, including part-time people who wrapped packages for Curtiss Candy Company. (chuckles) Let's see, they packaged, wrapped, sorted. It was handwork that wasn't readily available because of wartime labor shortage. And yet the resettlers had this large pool of employable, but unemployed women who—and they went to work doing that. They did it for much larger companies in Chicago. They suddenly discovered that these people were hard workers, and they could be employed at a lower than prevailing wages because they weren't asking much, but they were good workers. You had thousands of these available, but I think they helped to fill the gap in the labor shortage in Chicago.

Gatewood

Tell me about your family life during this time, just in terms of what your wife was doing?

Tanaka

Our first daughter had been born at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital before the war, and she was a few months old when we went to Manzanar. She was just a little over a year when we arrived in Chicago. Then our second daughter was born in 1944 at the hospital called Saint Bernard's. It was a Catholic hospital on the West Side. In 1950, our son was born at the University of Chicago, Lyonin Hospital. So, we lived in that rented third floor apartment across from the International House until about—gee, I can't remember—1944 or maybe '43. (laughs)

Then, I bought this duplex on the other side of the campus, and we lived there until we moved back here. I remember when we moved; we didn't have any furniture. It was all in storage in Los Angeles. I think, we made Jeannine walk, and Christine was in the buggy, and we walked across the northern boundary of the university campus (chuckles) to our new home. That was our housing until we left Chicago and moved out here.

Gatewood

What was your wife doing at this point?

Tanaka

She was raising the children. And then when I went to work for American Tech, American School, I discovered that they were paying outside instructors or graduate students at the University of Chicago to correct test papers that their students sent in. And she had helped me—I revised for them the biggest used course. They were workbooks called "English Composition and Rhetoric," teaching people English grammar. I asked the school, "Do you mind if my wife who has a degree from Los Angeles City College helps me grade these papers?"

I was already supervising some 20 outside instructors who graded these papers. So I said, "I don't want to take undue advantage of the fact that I'm using my

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family." They said, "Oh." And they saw her work and her handwriting, and they immediately said, "Use her." So she spent her time between taking care of—I guess we had by then our second child—and correcting papers. So it helped to supplement our income.

At that time, I was not only working for American Tech and doing work to produce for American School, but [also worked for] a Japanese American newspaper called the Colorado Times. It was a daily newspaper—asked me if I would write a column for them, because they said they hadn't seen my column continue in the Rafu Shimpo. I said, "Well, no. They haven't asked me." So they sent me a contract. The first time I ever had a contract (chuckles), and the Colorado Times owner said he would pay me $1,200 a year in installments of $100 a month if I would send in not less than two columns a week and hopefully three.

So I did that for, I think, nearly four years. It was so easy to do, and he wasn't hard to satisfy. (laughs) His name was Fred Kaihara, and I met him once on a trip through Denver to the West Coast. He ran that column, I guess, maybe four years. I'm amazed. I think all of that ended after we moved back to California, and I had to devote all my time to building a new business, School-Industrial Press.

Gatewood

Why don't we talk about that. In 1955, you decided to move back to Los Angeles. You said that this was basically your wife's decision?

Tanaka

She wanted very much to come back here. She missed California, and I was sending her out here every summer, so that she could get away from the Midwest ragweed season. And her parents were back in Los Angeles.

Gatewood

Oh, they had moved back? Okay.

Tanaka

But she had agreed that we would never go back. I said I didn't ever want to go back to California. When they treat you like that, and kick you out, and when you have the opportunity to live in places where you're welcomed, why go back? So that was the family debate for all the years we were in Chicago for nearly 13 years. Finally, she said, "Let's try it, anyway." So I flew out one weekend, and to her surprise and amazement, I bought a house over at Victoria Avenue and Olympic Boulevard in Los Angeles.

Gatewood

You just purchased the house?

Tanaka

Yeah. I just bought the house. I put a down payment on it. It was a full house. It was a one-story house. It was bigger than our Chicago quarters.

Gatewood

Wow!

---

Tanaka

It's still there. Then I told her that since I'd been involved in some real estate before we were evacuated, I was in the process of doing a portfolio of rental income properties. I thought it was a funny little location. If you come west on Olympic Boulevard and reach Crenshaw, there's a little kind of triangular block. There's a house there, and a house here, and then one, two, three—and then ours. There's only, I think, five properties on that whole block. I told her that I'm going to buy that, and I'm going to eventually buy the whole block, and then we would rent the houses to lessees.

That was the intent when we bought our home there. She was delighted because we moved there from Chicago. I think our children then went to schools in Los Angeles—first to Wilton Place Elementary School, then to Burroughs Junior High, and to Los Angeles High, where she had gone to school. So our two daughters went to L.A., High School. But I had told her that, "I'd always wanted to be living around UCLA, so find a house out there." So she found this, so our son could go to University High School. All three of our children went to UCLA. That was our housing experience coming back here.

Gatewood

In terms of comparing the prewar community, [as] opposed to postwar, what kinds of things struck you about the changes that had taken place?

Tanaka

Oh, you mean here and—?

Gatewood

Just since you had been gone in L.A.?

Tanaka

Oh, well. It's interesting. In my last three prewar years here at the Rafu Shimpo, I had started a section called the "Nisei Business Bureau" (chuckles), which was a full page in the English section on Thursdays. We had run a campaign in 1938, and '39, and '40 saying that there's a peculiar thing in the deeds of homes. In California real estate, deeds had what was called a racially restrictive covenant. In practice it limited occupancy to persons of the Caucasian race. This was unconstitutional.

In practice we were told we could buy it, but couldn't live in it. (laughs) So, having campaigned in that way through the newspaper, I was familiar with it. Because I think if you go look at the Rafu Shimpo in the prewar years, particularly by 1940, we were involved in trying to promote housing sub-divisions that were opened to everyone.

I remember I was a principal in a company called Pacific Investment Company with a man named James Hisatomi who initiated it. The idea was that we bought, or we were trying to buy acreage at La Cienega and Jefferson. The area is even today called Jefferson Park. I remember going to mass meetings at places like the Calvary West Adams Methodist Church in which we were trying to convince members to not exclude us. It wasn't the United Methodist Church in those days.

---

The councilman from that district was a man named Harold Harby. And he had managed to arouse all the people in that West Adams neighborhood, saying that, we do not want this to become a stepping stone for a Jap landing party invading the West Coast. There was a great deal of anti-Japanese feelings in that audience.

To counteract that, I had gone to a friend who was director of information for the L.A., Board of Education. It wasn't the Unified School District in those days—a man named Freeman Lusk. Freeman, who was a navy commander, appeared with me at a mass meeting, with people who were hostile. They didn't want us to come. I was representing the Pacific Investment Company. (laughs) It was a disaster. Those people just simply were dead set against Jefferson Park. We were already in the middle of selling lots and then taking deposits for it. But the war, of course, changed all of that.

If you know where Fedco is—every time I go to Fedco, I look and say to myself, "Gee, that would have been Jefferson Park," because it was almost across the street. At that time, we claimed that it was going to be the largest Japanese American subdivision in the United States. We claimed we were capitalizing a program of three million dollars, which was a fortune in those days. We thought that was going to be our future. But of course, it all died with the threat of war and its outbreak.

Today, the place is still undeveloped after half a century. (chuckles) Too bad, it could have been nice homes. Because we figured with FHA [Federal Housing Administration] financing, in those days, if you built a $3,500 or $5,000 home these were pretty nice homes. Because I was in my own account buying some homes that were $1,500 and $2,000 south of Olympic, further East. But that was an opportunity that could have been. But with what happened during the war, it would have just become a ghost town, anyway.

Gatewood

Did racial covenants persist even after the war? Did you find that was kind of factor in choosing a home, here?

Tanaka

Oh. Well, postwar, we didn't come back here until 1955, and that's a decade after the end of the war. But largely it was because I was determined not to come back. I just simply felt that if we were going to raise a family, it ought to be in an environment where you didn't have to cope with the traditional anti-Oriental institutions that were out here.

My wife suffered from the annual encroachment of ragweed. (laughs) We tried everything. We tried to go up to the Canadian border and up to Eagle River, Wisconsin, and then came out here. But finally, the pull of the West Coast was too strong. I would have been happy living in the Midwest, but she liked it here. So we came back, and the children grew up and went to school here in Southern California.

---

Gatewood

In terms of the community, which you eventually moved to, what was the racial composition of the community?

Tanaka

Oh, you mean here in Los Angeles?

Gatewood

Yeah, just basically, on Victoria where you first settled?

Tanaka

Oh, right. Well, in that area the resistance to Japanese was not that great. It never was here in Westwood. The interesting thing is that I must have recorded my experiences. I had a little red book I kept. Even in the postwar period, I walked—I would say there were very few areas in this city that I don't know from what I called "the worm's eye view." That is, going and walking, in terms of, "May I buy this?" or, "May I rent this?"

I found that the attitudes reflected what I had encountered before war. Native Sons and Daughters of the Golden West or the organized groups that were determined to send Japanese, Chinese, back to Asia had dissipated—were not as evident as before the war. Of course, what had happened was the influx from the South. Large numbers of blacks and Hispanic people had become a part of Los Angeles. I think that in the years of more diversity, Los Angeles became more cosmopolitan than I had known, because I had lived here since 1916. It was different in those days when, it was largely Anglo. I think there had been a change in this city based on demographic diversity.

Gatewood

In terms of what other Japanese Americans here in Los Angeles were doing at the time—basically, what point did you really get involved back in Los Angeles with the Japanese American community?

Tanaka

Before the war, because I was with the Rafu Shimpo, you're in the middle of Japanese American so-called community activity. And I had a business in the Seventh Street Wholesale Produce Terminal. That was one of the principal vocational activities of Japanese—the wholesale and retail produce business, fishing, and in crop farming that, I think, returning here after the war, there still was a great deal of activity. Little Tokyo had been reclaimed by the Japanese American population. They had bought out African American people who had filled the vacuum during the war. But the real estate and the businesses that they had held were resold back to the Japanese. So we had another Little Tokyo again, here. I know when I was working on Jefferson Park the resistance to having Japanese move into a neighborhood was very evident. That was prewar.

But when I came here postwar—we moved here fourteen years ago, I guess, 1963—I, at the same time, bought property. I bought a 24-unit apartment building on El Cerrito in Hollywood, one block east of La Brea, but north of Franklin. Actually, what I did was I bought the lot, and then I built that 24-unit building. We were going to live in the penthouse on the top floor. I bought

---

properties. I must have had 30 or 35 properties scattered around the Wilshire district, Hollywood, and the Westside. What we had done or were going to do in the postwar years was what we wanted to do but probably could not do in the prewar.

Postwar, I found that there was virtually no resistance to it. All you needed to do was to have a track record. If you had the financing you could buy almost anything out here. We started out to do that, and now we decided that we didn't want to get involved in having to manage apartments. It was too much of a headache.

So I began to divest our company from that. In its place, my son who took over our business in 1981 has expanded his company. It's called Gramercy Enterprise. He owns it 100 percent. He's nationwide. He owns properties in 26 states, and they're commercial. They're sale-leasebacks, so he does business with, I guess, companies like Wendy's. He owns the land, improvement, and the lease. So he has Carl Karcher Enterprises. He has Collins International's Sizzler. He has quite a few food chains. But his business now takes him overseas. I never know where he's going to call me from. He was in Florida recently, and then in Tennessee. The following month he called me from Tokyo.

Gatewood

There were areas that were distinctly settled. You had mentioned Little Tokyo had been restarted from Bronzeville,

and had changed back over. There were other areas, Gardena, and even over here on West L.A., in the Sawtelle area. What were some of the forces that you see that brought the Japanese American smaller enclaves to develop after the war?

Tanaka

I'm not too familiar with—I know that the West L.A., area has quite a number of Japanese American churches. Before the war, they called it Sawtelle. It was more known for being where the soldiers' home was (chuckles). But it's West L.A. And Gardena has a very large Japanese American population. San Fernando does, does it not?

Gatewood

Yes, it does.

---

Tanaka

And Pasadena?

Gatewood

On a smaller scale, I think. Did you ever feel, in terms of availing yourself of these Japanese American resources, did you ever go to these areas?

Tanaka

No. I didn't. We just moved into Victoria Avenue. Our business was not involved as much as we might with Japanese Americans.

Gatewood

I see. Tell me a little bit about your business after when you came back here, and what specifically you were doing in terms of employment?

Tanaka

We had a company called School Industrial Press. (chuckles) We were located at 634 North San Vicente. That's in West Hollywood, unincorporated part of the county. I brought to the business a handshake contract with the American School to produce their quarterly newspaper—to write it, edit it, print it, and mail it. So that gave us the start. I don't remember all the details. I think we had a basic budget for that one publication close to a quarter million dollars annually. So that would pay the rent and salary.

Then I went out and joined the L.A., Area Chamber of Commerce, and I met Stuart Davis who was trying to build Great Western Savings at that time, and he gave me a contract to produce—when he saw what we were doing for the American School. He had a monthly called The Great Westerner, a big run. He let me work with a staff person on that. We printed The Great Westerner and mailed that for him.

Then, I went back to California Federal Savings, because in the early days of Jefferson Park, I had worked with some people at Cal Fed, especially a man named Mickey Chatburn, vice president. I called him up and I said, "Do you remember me?" (chuckles) And he says, "I sure do." I said, "What do you remember about me?" And he says, "All I remember is that after I met you, I had 17 calls from the FBI." But he says, "Come on over. I'll buy you lunch."

So I went over and had lunch with him. And I said, "Is Howard Edgerton still around?" He says, "Yeah. He's the boss now." Howard was just fresh out of SC [University of Southern California] when I first met him in 1939. He was in the storefront, in that building where they have the Cal Fed Towers. He said, "Oh, yeah. I remember you. What are doing?" He took me to lunch, and he gave me the instructions. He says, "Do you want to start a newsletter for us?" And I said, "Yes. I'd like to." So he says, "Okay. I have an idea. I've been wanting to write a column, but I don't know where to put it. It's going to be called News and Views telling about how Cal Fed—and gave me a handshake. I think I produced News and Views for them for a long time. I don't know that it was 12 years or maybe more. But it was fun, because it was a big run.

---

When Cal Fed—you see, when I had met them—I think they were called Lumbermen's Casualty, and they had three million dollars assets and about three women employees (chuckles) down on the first floor in the storefront. Now, I was putting out the News and Views where they were going to become a half billion-dollar savings and loan. They were the nation's largest federal savings and loan. I remember putting out a special issue where they reached a billion dollars in assets. I can't remember, exactly.

Don Muchmore succeeded Mickey Chatburn. All the while, Howard Edgerton gave me encouragement. Once he even told me that Cal Fed—after they put up that tower there—I believe he told me that they also had an option on a property, which is still undeveloped near that Mutual Benefit Life Insurance building. It's across from Hancock Park.

Cal Fed, at one time, I think, had the option on it. I don't know whether they still do or not. They were going to put up another building there. I've been familiar with what's happened all along that whole area because one of my closest friends is a former chairman of Union Bank. He was once head of Prudential Life on the West Coast. He came out from New Jersey to build the Prudential Life Building here. His name is Harry Volk. He was chairman of Union Bank for many years. Harry and I still have lunch. But I once thought that Wilshire corridor, from La Brea all the way to Fairfax, would become like Wall Street in New York.

---

Tanaka

It hasn't yet. It still may at some time in the distant future. But I'm familiar with what went on during that period as people were acquiring property along there. It's kind of interesting.

Gatewood

We're winding down here. Just in terms of the organizations, you had always had kind of an active role in the Japanese American Citizens League. Did that continue here, or—?

Tanaka

Actually, it was largely through a friend who became national executive head of it, a man named Mike Masaoka.

His older brother Joe was my closest friend in internment camp. Then, when I was baptized and confirmed in Episcopal Church, Joe was my godfather. (laughs) He was a Mormon. (laughs) I've been

---

a member of the Japanese American Citizens League, but I haven't been that active.

Gatewood

What kinds of organizations were you active with here in Los Angeles?

Tanaka

I was very active in the L.A., Area Chamber of Commerce. I was Chairman of their education committee in 1972. I was quite active there.

Gatewood

Were you active in any Japanese American organizations?

Tanaka

Yes. Well, I still belong to the Japanese American Citizens League. Out here, we belong to our block organizations. Beyond the JACL, no I haven't been very much.

Gatewood

What kind of role did this organization play for you after the postwar period?

Tanaka

Japanese American Citizens League?

Gatewood

Yes.

Tanaka

I think considering what Mike Masaoka did, he was able to obtain citizenship for people born in Japan, and that affected both of my parents and my older brother. I think they obtained the redress from the government for internment, and my wife got $20,000, and I got $20,000, and we have donated equal sums to organizations including the American and International Red Cross, the YMCA, the National Safety Council, and other charitable organizations.

[break in recording]

Tanaka

—and Japanese American organizations. I've been very much interested in what the Japanese American National Museum has done.

Gatewood

Did you have any thoughts about what was going on in terms of the Civil Rights Movements in the 1950s and '60s, and in terms of your own involvement?

Tanaka

Yes. I'm sure among the contributions that, my wife and I made, we were very much interested in what was going on with civil rights. I think in the memberships that we had in different organizations; those that supported what people like Martin Luther King were doing were very much in our minds and in our prayers. We just hoped that they would be successful, and we did contribute to them.

Gatewood

So, just to close out here, I want to really thank you for sharing all these great experiences and memories with us today. Just to talk about basically some of your reflections, I guess, about your life, what do you see as some of the more important milestones that you've achieved?

---

Tanaka

(pause)

Gatewood

That's a bit of a difficult question (chuckles) to answer, but—

Tanaka

(laughs) I think that—what is it? My wife years ago introduced me to the books of Albert Schweitzer. It seemed to me that our ability to somehow resolve differences without resorting to force and violence hopefully has produced progress. We haven't blown ourselves up yet, although we have the capability of doing so. It would seem to me that there is a compelling need for us to face up to it, whether we contemplate what we're going to do either in our schools, or in church, or in the privacy of our homes that—

During the bloodiest part of the war, I remember sitting in the American Friends Service Committee office. Each morning before we began to meet people, they would form a circle of prayer, and pray for peace—Peace not only within ourselves, but the world at large. It seems to me that if you look at what is happening in the world today and where great concerns ought to occupy us, but that need hasn't changed. We still have pockets of violence, and death, and destruction. Common sense tells us we should somehow find ways to resolve them. It's a rather big order, but it's universal.

Gatewood

You had mentioned that you are very active in this particular community. What are some of your current activities or just your hobbies?

Tanaka

Well, right now—what is that group? (chuckles) It's got people on this block that there is a—about a year ago, we had an outbreak of burglaries and hold-ups, and car bashing. So, I think last week we had a meeting of residents, in a four-block area, over here at Macy's. A meeting to see what can we do to help this.

Because the Westside does have a rising curve of a growing number of violent events that were being reported and unreported. We want to make the streets safer in this area for everyone. When we moved here thirty-some years ago, we could walk any hours of the night here. The night was very peaceful. But, of course, you didn't have all of the high-rises and the downtown area. But I suppose that's true whether it's here or elsewhere. I have friends that I worked with at the Rafu Shimpo, and I visit. They're in Boyle Heights, and we have the same problem here as they have there, but the question is of degree. But then it's also a question of how much is reported.

Gatewood

So you still have some connection—Obviously, you are still interacting both through the Museum and other individuals with the Japanese American community. Do you have any goals that you would like to see the Japanese American community accomplish? Or do you see a course that the community is taking?

---

Tanaka

I think what you're doing at the Museum is constructive and positive and most helpful, because one, you're communicating and keeping us up-to-date as to trends. I think it kind of works into a tapestry of the whole city, because this is one of the most diverse metropolitan areas in the world. I think that we need to know what works and recruit people to join in. This is what will make this a better city.

Gatewood

Is there anything that we haven't covered that you would like to talk about or to share?

Tanaka

You covered (laughs) the universe.

Gatewood

Yeah. I think we've covered a lot. This is true. Well, thank you very much for sharing your time today. This will be a very important resource for generations to come, so thank you very much.

End of interview

Index

• 100th Infantry Battalion, 7n. 13, 186
• 442nd Regimental Combat Team, 7n. 14, 19n. 45, 186, 320, 331
  • See also Inouye, Kazuo K., military service of
• Aiso, John Fujio, 152, 152n
• Alexander, Harold, 341
• Alien Land Law, 16, 16n. 37, 34, 176, 227
• Amache, Colo
  • See Granada Relocation Ctr., Colo
• American Friends Service Committee, 436, 448, 451, 463
• American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), 333
• American School
  • curriculum of, 423, 438, 455
  • newspaper of, 438, 439
  • president of, 440, 442
• American Technical Society, 438
• Anderson, Hugh, 323n. 16, 334, 341, 357
  • autobiography of, 327, 337
  • resettlement and, 323, 324, 325-326, 338, 340
  • family of, 341-342
• Anderson, Marion, 76
• Atomettes, 80, 108
  • activities of, 81, 93, 111, 231-232
  • members of, 81-82, 232, 233
• Beimfohr, Herman, 72, 97, 234
• Bonesteel, Charles Hartwell, 325, 325n, 326, 327, 337
• Buddhism
  • See also Buddhist hostel; English language, Buddhism and; Hompa (Nishi), Hongwanji Buddhist Temple; Mid-West Buddhist Temple; Nisei Week
  • attitudes about Christianity, 210, 213
  • conversion to, 213, 402n. 21
  • Dharma school, 386-387
  • festivals, 201, 201n. 52, 387, 387n. 8, 408, 408n. 25
  • Higashi Hongwanji (Buddhist Temple of Los Angeles), 180
  • Issei and, 412
  • Koyasan Temple, 209
  • Senshin Buddhist Church, 71, 96, 209, 402, 405
    • social activities and, 408, 409, 410, 412
  • study of, 392-393, 394
  • Young Buddhists Assoc. (YBA), 387, 409
• Buddhist hostel, 401-402, 405-407
• Burnette, Mary, 100
• California Daily News, 427
• Camp Shelby, Miss., 186
• Carr, William, 324, 324n. 17, 340, 342
• Catholic Youth Organization (CYO), 8-9, 30
• Centenary United Methodist Church, 194, 201, 269, 280, 283
  • activities at, 283-284, 289
• Central Utah Relocation Ctr., 393, 394-395, 437n.15
• Chicago, Ill. 29n. 9
  • businesses in 453-545
  • demographics of, 147, 439, 443
  • employment opportunities in, 28, 255
  • housing in, 139, 144-145, 146, 272, 395, 396, 398, 437, 449-450, 451, 452
  • Japanese Americans in, 7-8, 8n, 29, 30, 137-138
  • the Loop, 272, 272n. 11, 273
  • North Side, 27n. 8, 395
  • South Side, 138-139, 275
• Chicago Church Federation, 437, 452
• Chicago Resettlers Committee, 453
• Child Care Centers, 75, 100-101, 104
  • curriculum for, 105, 107
• Christianity
  • conversion to, 306
  • Quakers, 324, 332 ( see also Friends of the American Way)
• Churches
  • See also West Los Angeles First Methodist Church
  • attitudes about, 230, 235
  • Evergreen Baptist Church, 388
  • interfaith relations, 236, 281, 388, 408
  • interracial congregations, 97, 98
  • ministers for, 65
  • Pasadena Methodist Church, 332
  • Pasadena Presbyterian Church, 335, 349
  • social activities at, 388, 409
  • St. Mary's Episcopal Church, 346
  • Unitarian Church (Ill.), 397
  • Weslyan Methodist Church (Neb.), 222, 223
  • Westwood Congregational Church, 68, 98
  • Westwood United Methodist Church, 72, 76, 97
• Civil Liberties Act of 1988, 171, 171n. 21
• Civil Rights Movement, 259, 463
  • attitudes about, 352, 416
  • Nisei and, 351
  • participants in, 20, 110, 416
• Civil service, 42
• Cold War, 446-447
• Colorado River Relocation Center, Ariz., 270, 270n. 7, 341n, 392n. 15
  • activities at, 392, 393, 341
  • going to, 392
  • leaving, 400
• Colorado Times, 455
• Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment, 352
  • See also Redress Movement
• Concentration camps, 5n. 9
  • See also individual location names
  • attitudes about, 270, 272, 313
  • awareness of, 140, 141
  • correspondence to, 448
  • departure from, 28, 95, 135, 436-437, 439, 448
  • effects of, 12, 17-18, 164
    • difficulty talking about, 261, 254
    • on Issei, 214, 218, 219
  • going to, 123
  • inter-camp transfers from, 394
  • schools in, 64
• Cooperative for American Relief Everywhere (CARE), 259, 259n
• Couch, William Terry, 446
• Crossroads, 256-258
• Cultural values
  • See Japanese culture
• DeWitt, John L., 320n. 13, 433, 433n. 14
• Discrimination
  • See Racism
• Domestic work, 131, 218, 220-221
  • of Issei, 270, 344, 400, 412
  • school girls, 251, 252-253, 317, 321, 407
• Education
  • See also Heart Mountain Relocation Ctr
• Wyo., education at; individual names, education; Racism, in education; Tolerance, in education
  • attitudes about, 196, 212, 250, 365
  • financial aid for, 216
  • Issei and, 107, 128, 379, 423, 427
  • Nisei and, 385 ( see also National Japanese American Student Relocation Council (NJASRC))
  • schools, 179, 196, 210, 365, 365n. 6 ( see also Venice, Calif., schools
  • Sansei and, 358
• Embrey, Sue Kunitomi, 184, 184n. 25, 254
• English language
  • difficulty with, 247, 387-388, 406
  • Buddhism and, 411
  • Issei and, 311, 370
• Evacuation, 4n. 2, 247, 269
  • See also Executive Order 9066
  • attitudes about, 214, 308, 309, 313, 323, 337, 433
  • effects of, 180, 353, 405
    • loss of business, 209, 241, 314, 344, 391
    • loss of property, 180, 248, 269, 308-309, 314, 391
  • preparation for, 215, 216, 217, 248, 270, 307, 309, 324, 391
  • voluntary, 181, 366
• Evacuation Claims Act, 15, 15n. 33
• Evergreen Hostel, 255-256
• Exclusion Act, 298, 307, 308
  • See also Immigration Act of 1924
• Executive Order 9066, 133n.7, 180
• Farming, 47-48, 49, 151
  • See also Tokyo Club
  • in California, 67, 116-117, 122, 127, 176, 203
  • in Colorado, 268
  • in Montana, 181, 182
• Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)
  • See also Issei, FBI and
  • arrests by, 390, 429-430, 431
  • interrogations by, 391, 397-398
  • protection by, 407
• Fishing, 277, 278, 279
• Fort Missoula, Mont., 208, 208n. 4, 241
• Fort Snelling, Minn., 145n. 14, 151, 276 passim
• Fresno, Calif., 383
• Friends of the American Way, 324, 324n. 17, 325, 331-332
  • See also Anderson, Hugh; Carr, William
• Fujii, Sei, 427
• Fujimori, Alberto, 21-22, 21n
• Fujimori, Reverend, 65
• Gardena, Calif
  • businesses in, 124, 127, 158
  • demographics of, 125, 158, 170
  • theater group, 124-125, 129
• Gardening, 41-42, 67, 180, 344, 348, 407
• Gatewood, James, 63, 121, 207, 383, 421
• General Mailing Co
  • See General Mailing, Bindery and Sales
• General Mailing, Bindery and Sales, 27-28, 32, 441, 454
• G. I. Bill of Rights, 9n. 17, 10, 10n. 19, 155, 157, 191
• Gila River Relocation Ctr., Ariz., 6n. 12, 326, 338
• Goldwater, Reverend Julius, 402, 402n. 21
• Granada Relocation Ctr., Colo., 271, 271n, 366
  • attitudes about, 316-317
  • conditions at, 312, 315-316
  • correspondence from, 319
  • employment at, 315-316
  • going to, 312, 314-315
  • leaving, 317, 320, 325- 326
  • social activities at, 312, 315, 316, 317, 318
  • The Pioneer, 317
• Harbeson, John, 327, 330
• Hare family, 67, 68, 76-77, 95
• Heart Mountain Relocation Ctr., Wyo., 270, 366
  • education at, 247, 249-250
  • going to, 249
  • leaving, 250-251
• Hogue, Mark, 68, 98
• Hompa (Nishi) Hongwanji Buddhist Temple, 14n. 29, 52-53, 385
  • See also Buddhist Hostel; Goldwater, Reverend Julius
  • legal dispute at, 402, 402n. 21
  • social activities at, 387, 409
• Honda, Harry K., 1-60
  • See also Journalism; Pacific Citizen
  • education of, 10, 11, 32, 43-44
  • employment of, 9, 11, 13, 19, 42, 45, 46
  • JACL and, 14, 33
  • marriage of, 19
  • military service of, 5, 6-7
  • parents of, 6, 7, 9, 15, 18, 23-24, 39, 40
  • road trip of, 8, 27, 32- 33
  • siblings of, 7, 18, 24, 26, 27
  • wife of, 18
• Honda, Rose, 61-95, 218
  • affiliations of, 82, 89, 111- 112, 114 ( see also Atomettes, Windsors)
  • education of,
    • in camp, 64, 99
    • at Santa Monica College, 70, 100, 101
  • employment of, 75, 100, 101, 103-104, 106-107
    • training for, 101-102, 111, 115
  • parents of, 66-67, 68-69, 70, 95, 114
    • citizenship of, 90-91
  • retirement of, 115-116
  • sister of, 109
• Hosokawa, Bill, 19n. 44, 20
• Housing
  • See also Chicago, Ill., housing; individual facility names; Midwest Buddhist Temple (MBT), housing and; Racism, in housing; War Relocation Authority (WRA), housing and
  • availability of, 69, 73-74, 136, 162, 255, 342
  • through employment, 136, 218, 253
  • hostels, 8, 29, 30-31, 67, 68, 69-70, 95, 406, 409
  • multiple families, 215, 256, 277, 279
  • multiple generations, 258, 280, 284, 397, 399
  • restrictions on, 69, 456-457
  • single family, 16, 68, 76-77, 134, 156, 340, 345, 375
  • tract development, 41, 42, 113
• Hurt, Haruko (Sugi), 119-172
  • childhood of, 123-124, 125-126
  • in theater, 124-125, 129-130
  • children of, 157-158
  • education of, 128, 130, 136
    • college, 155, 156, 159
  • employment of, 130-131, 167-168
    • clerical, 141-143, 157, 159
    • as domestic, 131, 137-140
  • friends of, 146-147
  • grandfather of, 164-165
  • husband of, 161-162
  • marriage of, 156, 160-161, 165-167, 170
  • military service of, 145, 147, 148-149
    • basic training, 149-150
    • assignments, 152-153, 153-154
  • parents of, 122-123, 125, 126-127, 163
    • citizenship of, 164
    • personalities of, 127-128, 165
    • property of, 123, 134, 169
• Iki, Darcie, 297, 324
• Immigration, 34, 422
• Immigration Act of 1924, 33n. 16
• Inagaki, George, 33n. 14
• Inouye, Kazuo K., 173-204
  • attitude about work
  • childhood of, 175, 176-177, 178, 190, 203
  • children of, 189, 200
  • education and school activities, 184
  • employment of, 200-201, 203-204
    • during war, 181-183, 184, 185
    • Kasha Realty, 190, 191-193, 194-196, 197, 198-199, 202
    • in wholesale produce, 179-180
  • marriage of, 200
  • military service of, 175, 175n, 185-188
  • parents of, 175, 176, 203
  • recreation of, 176-177
  • sister of, 176
• Ishikuza, Mary (Nishi), 80, 111, 113, 205-242
  • affiliations of, 227, 228, 229, 234, 239
  • childhood of, 208-209, 210-213
  • children of, 213, 237
  • education, 210-211, 212, 213
    • at college, 214, 215, 216, 218, 221-223
  • employment of, 218, 220-221
    • as a teacher, 214-215, 216, 237-239
    • at concentration camp, 218, 217
  • father of
    • employment of, 208, 209-210, 212, 213n
    • incarceration of, 208, 219, 240, 241
    • loss of business of, 241
  • husband of, 234-235
  • marriage of, 234-235
  • mother of, 209, 214, 219- 220
  • siblings of, 213, 214, 215, 216, 218
  • trips abroad, 216
• Issei
  • See also Domestic work; Farming; Fishing; Japanese Hospital of Los Angeles
• role of Issei in; Kenjinkai; Tokyo Club
  • businesses of, 12, 38, 39, 163, 269, 299-301, 344, 364, 370, 383
    • loss of, 241, 314, 344
  • childrearing and, 71, 128, 385
  • citizenship for, 90-91, 132, 164, 290-291, 311, 350, 430-431, 462
  • employment of, 268, 298, 383-384, 422, 458
    • in produce, 180, 246, 423
    • after resettlement, 67-68, 208, 272, 400, 412
  • FBI and, 208, 240, 307, 390, 390n
  • immigration of, 175, 268, 298, 383
  • leaders of, 37n. 17, 38
  • political activity of, 171-172
  • property of, 74, 76-77, 95, 123, 134, 169, 215
  • repatriation of, 311, 350-351
• Ito, Leslie, 3, 175, 245, 267, 363
• Jack, Homer, 397
• Japan, 118, 414
  • See also Issei, repatriation of
  • prefectures in, 176, 246, 268, 363, 386
  • trips to, 176, 213, 245, 246, 284, 293, 298, 299, 356, 357
    • by Nisei, 414-415
• Japanese American Citizens League (JACL)
  • See also Pacific Citizen
  • activities of, 78-79, 108 ( see also Windsors)
  • attitudes about, 35, 227
  • conventions, 13, 27, 33-34, 35-36
  • future of, 21, 57
  • history of, 13-14, 13n. 26, 19n. 44, 55-56
  • leaders of, 227
  • members of, 14, 15, 33, 54-55, 114
  • policy of, 227-288,432-433, 452, 462
• Japanese American Cultural and Community Ctr., 14n. 30, 52-53, 262, 292, 292n.29
• Japanese American National Museum, 14, 26n. 4, 53, 241-242, 401, 462, 464
• Japanese American Publications
  • See Granada Relocation Center, The Pioneer; individual publication names
• Japanese culture, 6, 221
  • See also Buddhism; Marriage, matchmakers, Yoshi; Nisei Week
  • americanization of, 286, 416
  • awareness of, 178, 226, 292
  • behavior in, 180, 211-212, 219, 228, 246, 447
    • fear of congregating, 397
  • children in, 88, 299, 424
  • fine arts, 111, 181, 306
  • food, 283, 288
  • preservation of, 57-59, 93-94, 113-114, 115
• Japanese Gardener's Assoc., 199
• Japanese Hospital of Los Angeles, 38n. 20, 373, 373n. 13, 374, 384
• Japanese language, 201
  • difficulties with, 211, 338. 399. 394, 415
  • Issei and, 65, 85, 128, 423, 425, 397
  • learning, 370, 414
  • Nisei and, 153, 246, 423, 425
• Japanese language school, 78, 304-305, 384, 386
  • attendance at, 128-129
  • attitudes about, 210-211, 386, 388
  • Dai-Ichi Gakuen, 245, 246n. 2
  • Futaba Gakuen, 305
  • Sansei and, 261
• Japanese Provisional Conference, 85, 97, 98
• Journalism, 45, 46-47, 254
  • reporting activity, 326, 328, 329
• Kaji, Bruce, 26, 26n. 4, 184
• Kashitani, Reverend, 65
• Kashu Mainichi, 258, 260, 427
• Kawakita, Tomoya, 16n. 38
• Keiro Nursing Home, 374
• Kelley, George, 333-334
• Kenjinkai, 18-19, 18n. 41, 212, 212n. 8
• Kibei, 183
• Kido, Saburo, 13, 13n. 26
• Kim, Sojin, 3, 324
• Kim, Young O., 26n. 5
• Komai, Akira, 11n. 23
• Kono, Reverend, 396, 397, 398, 401
• Kunitsugu, Katsumi (Hirooka), 45, 243-264
  • affiliations of, 263
  • childhood of, 245-250
  • children of, 258
  • education of, 246, 247, 249-250
    • college, 251, 253-254, 255
  • employment of, 250, 251, 252-253, 262
    • in journalism, 256-257, 260, 262
  • husband of, 257, 261, 263
  • parents of, 245, 246, 255
  • siblings of, 245, 246, 251, 255
• Kuroki, Ben, 33n. 13
• Kushida, Tats, 16, 16n. 35
• Kuwano, Reverend, 70, 71, 73, 84-85
• Little Tokyo (Los Angeles), 52, 246n. 3, 247, 256
  • See also Japanese American Cultural and, Community Ctr
  • Bronzeville and, 258, 258n. 15, 402-403
  • demographics of, 259, 404
  • description of, 177-178, 258-259
  • Issei businesses in, 12, 26, 36-38
  • Issei leaders in, 12, 36-37
• Los Angeles, Calif
  • See also Little Tokyo; Tokyo Club
  • Boyle Heights, 179, 245, 373n. 14
  • Community Redevelopment Agency (CRA), 52n
  • Crenshaw District, 189, 194, 196-199, 201, 258
    • demographics of, 203, 260, 279, 287, 290
    • description of, 189n. 32, 259-260, 280, 284-285, 287
  • downtown area, 9n. 18
    • dispersement from, 199, 201-202, 260
  • demographics of, 38-39, 40,178, 199, 373, 384, 433, 458-459, 460
  • development in, 457, 459
  • Hollywood, 370, 371
  • Japanese markets in, 180, 288
  • newspapers in, 13, 44, 47- 48, 426
  • schools, 179, 196, 210, 365, 385
  • Watts, 255, 291
• Loyalty petitions, 390
• Loyola University, 10, 10n. 20, 43
• Mallum, Mary Alice, 75, 100, 101
• Manaka, Marion (Funakoshi), 265-294
  • affiliations of, 280, 286
  • childhood of, 257-268, 269-272
  • children of, 279, 280, 283
  • education of, 267, 269, 270, 271
  • employment of, 272, 275, 277, 293
  • husband of, 274, 276, 278, 279, 280
  • parents of, 268, 269, 270, 280, 290-291
    • father, 273, 289
    • mother, 271, 284
  • siblings of, 268, 270, 273
• Manzanar Relocation Ctr., Calif., 6n. 11, 248
  • activities at, 66, 67, 181, 183, 431-432
  • arrival at, 63-64
  • conditions at, 64-65, 216-217, 218-219, 434
  • correspondence from, 183, 217
  • departure from, 67, 68, 69, 217-218, 255, 436
  • employment in, 434-435
  • going to, 181, 212, 216, 434
  • riot at, 183, 183n 22, 435
    • result of, 432, 435, 436
  • work leave from, 181-183
• Marriage
  • attitudes about, 234, 413
  • courtship, 231, 345-346, 347, 359, 389
  • of Issei, 176, 298
  • matchmakers ( baishakunin), 298, 298n. 3, 389
  • of Nisei, 19, 235, 276, 346, 347
  • of Sansei, 291, 348
  • picture brides, 268, 363, 363n. 2, 379
  • war brides, 92
  • Yoshi, 298-299, 298n. 5
• Masaoka, Joe, 432, 435
• Masaoka, Mike, 19n. 45, 33n. 14, 462
• Mayeda, Harry, 453
• McCarran-Walter Immigration and Naturalization Act/Immigration and Nationality Act, 15n. 32, 55, 290
• McCarthyism, 263
• Michener, Mari Sabusawa, 33, 33n. 15
• Midwest Buddhist Temple (MBT) of Chicago, 395-397
  • See also Kono, Reverend
  • social activities at, 399, 401
  • War Relocation Authority (WRA) and, 395, 397, 399
• Military Intelligence Service (MIS) Language School, 252, 252n
• Military service, 5-6, 6-7, 217
  • See also individual names; Women's Army Corps
  • attitudes about, 19n. 45, 186-187
• Mittwer, Mary Oyama, 48, 48n. 33
• Miyatake, Toyo, 37-38, 37n. 19, 181
• Monterey, Calif., 277-278
• Morikawa, Jitsuo, 449, 450, 452
• Murakami, Reverend, 65
• Myer, Dillon S., 333, 333n. 22
• Nakamura, Gongoro, 37n. 17
• Nanka Nikkei Voices, 27, 27n. 7, 31
• National Japanese American Student Relocation Council (NJASRC), 250, 250n. 11, 251
• New Japanese American News, 13, 50
• Nicholson, Reverend, 65-66, 73, 113, 230
• Nikkei community, 17-18, 56, 57, 209
  • in Chicago, Ill., 146, 396-397
  • in Los Angeles, Calif., 162, 163, 163n, 209, 211, 226
  • in Wisconsin, 252
• Nimitz, Chester, 444-445
• Nisei
  • See also Japanese Hospital of Los Angeles; Marriage
  • attitude about Sansei, 261, 263-264, 313, 355
  • care of parents, 114, 280, 281, 293
  • childrearing and, 104-105, 178, 189, 260-261, 283, 292
  • education of, 210, 212, 214, 269, 379
  • employment of, 41-42, 189, 278, 279-280, 398-399, 408
    • during war, 272, 275
    • in produce, 180, 259, 391
  • political activity of, 172, 262-263
  • professions of, 38, 107-108
  • property of, 111, 279, 282, 284, 280, 434
• Nisei Vue, 441-442
• Nisei Week, 38, 201, 201n. 57, 283, 387
• Nishi Hongwanji
  • See Hompa (Nishi) Hongwanji Buddhist Temple
• Nishio, Esther (Takei), 295-360
  • See also Pasadena Junior College, controversy at
  • affiliations of, 335, 347, 348, 355
  • childhood of, 298, 299, 300-317
  • education and school activities of, 301, 302, 303-305, 345
    • at college, 324, 327, 335, 337, 343
  • employment of, 317, 345, 348, 355
    • in camp, 309-310, 311, 317, 322
  • father of ( see Takei, Harry Shigehisa)
  • husband of, 345-346, 347-348, 358-360
  • marriage of, 346, 347
  • son of, 348
  • trips abroad, 356-357
• Nurseries, 208, 209-210, 212, 213
• Organized crime, 177, 177n. 6
  • See also Social activities, gambling; Tokyo Club; Yamato Hall
• Pacific Citizen, 3-4, 3n, 17
• See also Honda, Harry, employment of
• content of, 4, 16-17, 20, 45, 56
• future of, 21, 46
• location of, 4, 13-14, 44-45, 51, 52-53
• staff for, 19, 20-21, 45, 51

• Palmer, Dulaney, 426
• Pan American Nikkei Assoc., 57
• Parent Teacher Assoc. (PTA), 286, 307
• Pasadena City College
  • See Pasadena Junior College
• Pasadena Junior College, 324, 327, 340
  • controversy at, 326-340
  • social activities at, 343-344, 343n
• Pearl Harbor, Hawai'i, attack, 132n. 5
  • reaction to, 131-132, 211, 214, 248, 269, 389-390, 432-433
  • consequences of, 133, 307, 390, 429
• Pomona Assembly Ctr., Calif., 249
• Poston, Ariz
  • See Coloraro River Relocation Ctr., Ariz
• Racism, 56, 328, 329
  • See also Kelley, George; Pasadena Junior College, controversy at; Santa Monica School District; Tolerance
  • businesses and, 96, 106, 181-182, 190-191, 262
  • children and, 106, 125-126
  • coping with, 178, 226, 328, 341, 376, 391, 400, 407
  • in education, 222, 226, 261, 425-426
  • in housing, 162, 191, 194, 370-371, 450
  • military and, 187, 188, 334
  • against minorities, 194, 302, 396, 403, 438-439
  • regional biases, 147, 150-151, 220
  • Sansei and, 354
  • in the workplace, 178, 185, 261, 345, 364, 400, 415, 418
    • at Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD), 214, 215
    • at hospitals, 373-373
• Rafu Shimpo, 11n. 21, 20, 50-51, 153
• content of, 51, 456-457, 257
• files for, 435-436
• president of, 11, 37n. 18
• public speaking class, 443-444
• staff of, 31-32, 51, 428, 429, 441
• Raitt, Walt, 326, 330
  • See also Student Christian Assoc. (SCA)
• Recreation, 213, 287, 359, 385, 409, 413
  • martial arts, 176-177, 188-189
• Redress, 34, 112n. 5
  • attitudes about, 239, 240, 353-354, 417
  • payment, 240, 462, 463
• Redress movement, 112nn. 3, 4, 171, 227
  • attitudes about, 261, 293, 354
  • support for, 112-113, 228, 239-240
• Reilley, John, 44
• Resettlement, 9-10, 28, 78, 228
  • See also Concentration camps, departure from; Housing; individual names;employment; Pasadena Junior College; Racism; Tolerance
  • assistance in, 8-9, 15, 16, 84, 96, 97
  • attitude toward, 95, 108, 109, 327, 405
  • to California, 276-277, 369
    • to Los Angeles, Calif., 57-59, 134, 154, 155-156, 189, 215, 255, 278-279, 400
    • to Pasadena, Calif., 326, 327, 337, 345
  • to Chicago, Ill., 7, 26-27, 255, 271, 272-273, 274, 366-367, 368, 395, 398, 436, 437, 439, 448-449, 453
  • to Colorado, 35, 270-271, 273
  • to Utah, 255, 366
  • to West Coast, 12, 340, 437, 439, 449, 452, 455-456, 457-458
  • to Wisconsin, 251, 255
• Robinson, Jackie, 336, 336n
• Rohwer Relocation Ctr., Ark., 26, 28, 133n. 9, 135
  • departure from, 135-137
• Sabusawa, Mari, See Michener, Mari Sabusawa
• Sangyo Nippo, 47-49
• Sansei, 55, 56, 57
  • See also Redress, attitudes about
  • education of, 284, 289
  • employment of, 200
• Santa Anita Assembly Ctr., Calif., 5n. 8, 133, 133n. 8, 270, 365n. 8
  • attitudes about, 316-317
  • correspondence from, 365
  • description of, 309, 313, 366
  • employment at, 309-310, 311
  • going to, 134, 308, 309
  • leaving, 314, 366
  • strike at, 311
• Santa Fe, N. Mexico, 310, 310n
• Santa Monica School District, 75, 100
• Sasaki, Reverend, 84, 85, 88-89, 90, 235-236
• Saturday Evening Post, 429
• Sawtelle, 163, 163n
  • See also West Los Angeles, Calif
• Scene Magazine, 436, 438, 441-442, 446
• contents of, 442, 443, 444-445, 446, 447
• staff of, 442, 445
• Seinan Senior Citizens Center, 199
• Shigekawa, Sakaye, 361-380
  • education of, 365
  • medical career of ( see also Japanese Hospital of Los Angeles, Queen of Angels Hospital)
    • in Chicago, Ill., 369, 367
    • in Los Angeles, Calif., 370-371, 373, 376-378
    • training for, 365, 366, 368, 376
  • parents of, 363, 364, 365, 366, 370
  • siblings of, 364, 366
• Shin Nichibei, 44, 45
• Smith, Greg, 80-81, 86, 102-103
• Social activities, 199, 252, 274, 282, 285, 289, 343
  • See also Atomettes; Churches, social activities at; Japanese culture, festivals; Kenjinkai; Midwest Buddhist Temple (MBT) of Chicago, social activities at; Yamato Hall; Tokyo Club; Windsors
  • at church, 79, 83-84, 269, 283, 289, 348
  • Boy Scouts, 213, 348-349
  • clubs, 226, 347, 349, 413
  • youth clubs, 90, 231-233, 270
• Student Christian Assoc. (SCA), 326, 330, 332-333
• Tajiri, Larry, 13, 13n. 28, 44
• Takei, Harry Shigehisa, 298, 304, 306, 350, 354
  • children of, 299
  • at concentration camp, 315, 316, 322, 334
  • employment of, 298-300, 344, 350
  • incarceration of, 307-308, 310-311
• Takei, Ninoe, 298, 305-306, 307, 313, 351, 354
  • employment of, 298, 300, 316, 344, 350
• Takemoto, Reverend Art, 381-418
  • childhood of, 384-390, 410
  • education and school activities of, 384, 385-386, 414-415, 418
  • employment of, 392, 395, 400-401, 411
  • marriage of, 413
  • parents of, 385, 386, 400, 412, 413
    • father of, 383, 418
  • siblings of, 398, 391, 400
  • wife of, 407
• Tanaka, Jean, 428, 429, 439, 455, 458
• Tanaka, Togo, 11, 31, 57, 58, 419-464
  • affiliations, 447, 461-462, 463-464
  • arrest of, 429-430
  • businesses of, 439, 441, 444, 455, 460-461 ( see also Scene Magazine)
  • childhood of, 423, 425, 427
  • children of, 428, 439, 454, 456, 459
  • education of, 425-428
  • employment of, 427-428, 429, 436, 437-438, 440, 447-448, 455
    • in camps, 434-435
    • in relocation, 437, 448
  • investments of, 435, 443, 456, 457, 459
  • parents of, 421-422, 423-424, 249, 430, 436-437, 442, 443
    • burial of, 431
    • father, 425-426, 431
    • mother, 425
  • siblings of, 422-423, 424, 430, 435, 442
    • Minji, 423, 427, 432, 437, 442, 443
  • wife ( see Tanaka, Jean)
• Tayama, Fred, 183n. 22, 435
• Terminal Island, Calif., 384, 384n. 2
• Toast Mistress, 228
• Thorpe, William, 428
• Togami, Cynthia, 3, 23
• Toguri, Iva
  • See Tokyo Rose
• Tokyo Club, 48-50, 48n. 34, 177
• Tokyo Rose, 16, 17n. 39, 453
• Tokyo Villa, 200, 200n 49, 292
• Tolerance, 220, 332, 367, 368
  • See also Alexander, Harold; American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU); Student Christian Assoc. (SCA); Pasadena Junior College, controversy at among adults, 182, 286, 329, 338, 341, 404-405
  • in businesses, 190, 262
  • in education, 76, 179, 210, 211, 237, 262, 302, 327, 384
  • in housing, , 24-25, 106,, 290, 375, 448-449
  • of interracial dating, 159-160, 161
  • from servicemen, 76, 326, 330-331, 334, 339
  • in the workplace, 75, 105-106, 159, 405
    • at Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD), 214-215, 237
• Topaz Relocation Ctr., Utah
  • See Central Utah Relocation Ctr
• Treason trials, 16, 16n. 38, 17n. 39
• Tule Lake Relocation Ctr., Calif., 17n. 40
• Uchida, Elmer, 79, 227, 229
• UCLA [University of California at Los Angeles], 72, 101, 109
• Ueno, Harry, 183n. 22
• Uyeda's Five and Ten Cents Store, 12, 36
• Uyeno, Tad, 435
• Venice, Calif., 299-301, 299n. 6, 302
  • schools in, 301, 302, 303, 304, 310
• Wallace, Henry, 171, 171n. 22
• Walter-McCarran Act
  • See McCarran-Walter Immigration and Naturalization Act/Immigration and Nationality Act
• War Relocation Authority (WRA), 4n. 4, 9, 368, 399, 406
  • employment and, 136, 141, 436
  • housing and, 16, 395, 397, 399
  • leaders of, 333, 333n. 22
  • reports to, 435
• Warren, Earl, 186, 186n. 28
• West Los Angeles, Calif., 69, 77-78, 96
• West Los Angeles First Methodist Church, 71, 84, 86-88, 97, 209, 229
  • choir, 80-81 ( see also Smith, Greg)
  • hostel of, 68, 70, 71, 72, 85, 95, 97
  • language in, 84, 85, 88, 96, 99
  • members of, 79, 81, 85, 92, 97-99
  • ministers at, 65, 70, 84, 96, 229-230, 233 ( see also individual names)
  • organized groups at, 71, 83, 88-89, 92-93 ( see also Atomettes)
  • post-war rebuilding of, 229-230, 233- 236
  • redress movement and, 112-113
  • role of, 69, 71-72, 84, 96-97, 99, 114
  • social activities of, 213, 230, 231, 233-234
  • social services of, 73-74, 97-98, 99, 111, 236
  • Sunday school at, 76, 83, 112
• Western Defense Command, 320, 320n. 14, 324, 337
  • See also Bonesteel, Charles Hartwell; DeWitt, John L
• Windsors, 79, 111
• Women's Army Corps (WAC), 145, 145n.14, 149, 151-152
• Women's Society of Christian Service, 89-90
• Wong, Anna May, 26, 26n. 6
• World War II, 44, 109, 179
  • See also Pearl Harbor, Hawai'i, attack; Saturday Evening Post; Treason trials
  • defense industry, 272, 275, 400
  • living conditions during, 273, 307, 311, 390, 391
  • V-mail stations, 147-148
• Yamato, Kiyo, 38
• Yamazaki, Kathi, 81
• Yamazaki, Sid, 81, 93
• Yatabe, Thomas, 453n. 22
• Yokohama California, 4
• Yamato Hall, 177
• Yellow Brotherhood, 236-237, 236n. 23