Diary of Emily Light

[Some sections have been left out.]

December 7, 1941

After Pearl Harbor, Kay Mano and I greeted each other barely controlling our tears and our fears–neither of us liked war, each of us instantly knew this one would mean rough, tough days for Nisei and their alien parents (alien because our laws denied them citizenship) yet neither of us even remotely dreamed it would mean an unprecedented government-controlled migration of all of Japanese ancestry, citizen and alien alike.

On this day, too, Ikuko Kuratomi’s father disappeared. Not until ten days later were Ikuko and her family to learn he had not been the victim of the foul play they feared. Instead, along with ninety other Issei, he had been held by the F.B.I. in very crowded quarters, and was to be transferred to one of the Department of Justice Internment Centers for “enemy aliens” considered dangerous. Mr. Kuratomi was never to know why the F.B.I. felt it necessary to nab him as he walked to his shoe store that fateful Sunday morning. No charges were ever brought against him. And his case was only one of thousands of similar cases along our Pacific Coast.

At the time Kay, Ikuko and I as well as many other students from all around the world were living at International House which is dedicated to the belief: “That Brotherhood May Prevail”.

Despite many voices of reason, war hysteria immediately and furiously unleased existing latent and not so latent prejudices. Much could be said of this. Skimming lightly, in addition to clippings which follow:

Bank accounts of those with Japanese names were frozen at once,

Their businesses were boycotted,

Prejudiced people wore huge buttons “Jap Hunting Season”, Chinese wore smaller ones “I am Chinese”.

On January 29, U.S. Attorney General Francis Biddle ordered the removal of enemy aliens from prescribed military areas.

But too many were agreeing instead with such pertaining to all of Japanese ancestry:

Even our Constitution seemed as a voice crying in the wilderness on February 19, 1942–a dark, very dark day for American democracy.

Too much power was to be put in the hands of one John L. DeWitt, a man much too willing to succumb completely to the pressure of individuals and groups advocating full evacuation. As commanding general of the Western Defense Zone, he ordered evacuation of all of Japanese ancestry to the sixth generation–yet, in Hawaii:

This was good “window dressing” as was much else in General DeWitt’s final report on “Japanese Evacuation from the West Coast 1942". Actually, exemptions were nil, except for a handful of people detained in sanitariums, too ill to be moved.

Within a 28-day period were built or rigged up primitive barracks in 16 Assembly Centers to provide temporary quarters for 110,000. On March 22, Los Angeles sent its first Evacuees to Manzanar.

The military directive ordered Evacuees were to take with them “only what they could carry to their ‘rendezvous’”.

Immediately after Terminal Island in the L.A. area, Bainbridge Island was evacuated.

Governor Carr’s was the only voice of reason heard at the Governor’s Conference (of 10 western states) held April 7. All other governors and the state’s representatives were adamant in their defense of evacuation, or their rejection of all of Japanese ancestry.

Voluntary evacuation of Zone 1, permitted at first, was canceled March 27 although this chart showing results was not drawn up until later.

In quick succession, the western half of Washington and Oregon, all of California, and the southern third of Arizona was evacuated.

Berkeley’s turn came with the posting of Civilian Exclusion Order #19 on April 24. All of Japanese ancestry were ordered to be prepared to leave their homes on May 1 when they were to be taken to Tanforan Center, a former race track.

Farewell to Berkeley

All the comforts of home!

A straw mattress and mess hall fare! The latter very demoralizing for all.

The Totalizer soon appeared to keep Tanforan’s more than 7,000 Evacuees informed of community activities, and government rules and regulations now controlling their lives.

Lawyer James Purcell, upset by a visit to Tanforan, reported: “This was just a race track with thousands of people confined inside it. They’d put a family in a stall big enough for one horse, with whitewash over the manure. Guards with machine guns stood at the gate”.

September meant another upheaval for all in Tanforan as they were transferred to Topaz Relocation Center located near Delta in the Central Utah Desert.

In Citizen 13660 Miss Okubo wrote: “The trip was a nightmare which lasted two nights and a day. The train creaked with age. It was covered with dust, and as gaslights failed to function properly we traveled in complete darkness most of the night....all shades were drawn and we were not allowed to look out of the windows....The steam heat could not be turned off, so the car was overheated and stuffy...After Delta...we rode through 17 miles of alfalfa and greasewood-covered desert...suddenly the Central Utah Relocation Project was stretched before us in a cloud of dust...a desolate scene. Hundreds of low black barracks covered with tarred paper were lined up row after row. A few telephone poles stood like sentinels, and soldiers could be seen patrolling the grounds”.

During all this, farmers’ associations insistent in their demands for full evacuation began begging for seasonal workers to save their crops! On May 21, fifteen Evacuees left the Portland Assembly Center on temporary leave to help save these crops. In so doing, they set a pattern for many months and years to come. All throughout Evacuation, many an Evacuee went out from the Centers to help harvest their nation’s crops.

Before too long, all 110,000 Evacuees from Military Areas #1 and #2, without trial or hearing, were enclosed within the barbed wire of Assembly Centers listed below. Seven of every ten Evacuees were American citizens.

During the summer I visited Ellen and Tak Shibuya, Ikuko Kuratomi and Les Abe in the Santa Anita Center. Each was now known to officials by a number, just as the man below:

His number checked against a master list, this Evacuee is ready to leave San Francisco, his assembly point, for Santa Anita.

In July our government, and theirs, had already announced repatriation procedures for Evacuees.

Although I was so glad to see my friends, I found our visit depressing and disheartening. None of us even dared to reach across the wide table dividing us to touch hands in greeting, and conversation was difficult, as armed military guards watched our every move and listened to every word.

Soon after Santa Anita, I visited Kay Mano and her family in the Fresno Assembly Center. (They had been evacuated to the Fresno fairgrounds on what should have been Kay’s graduation day at U.C.B.) Fresno’s atmosphere seemed less oppressive and restrictive than Santa Anita’s. Consequently, our visit was a happier one, in spite of the fence and guards. From them, there seemed no escape in any of the Centers.

Some random thoughts of other Assembly Centers:

Of Pinedale Center, Rev. Dai Kitagawa reported: Inside his barrack a temperature of 115 degrees during the afternoon of day of arrival. That evening, a drop in temperature but the price in comfort was a tremendous sand storm.

Within the barbed wire fence not a tree or blade of grass, while outside were acres and acres of orchards. (To quote Father Dai, “How I wished I could have sat in the shade of those fig trees”–page 65 of his book “Issei and Nisei”.)

After evacuation to Puyallup, Oliver Noji, feeling no place could be worse therefore it had to be better, volunteered to help ready Tule Lake Relocation Center to receive its Evacuees.

George Sumida said of such facilities at his Assembly Center: “While using them you touched people sitting beside you, and the ones sitting in back. The holes were that close”.

When Manzanar converted to a Relocation Center from an Assembly Center, Evacuees began clearing the ground for its crops.

Evacuation was a very costly move–of which construction of the Relocation Centers was only one small part.

Even though all of Japanese ancestry had been removed from the West Coast, signs like these continued to be posted all during World War II by the Remember Pearl Harbor League and others.

Finally on September 1, 1942 - Tule Lake Relocation Center, where only the seagulls were free.

At first, eight of us were housed in #123, an open barrack discarded by the military, now all stationed outside the fence. By December 4, a section of the warehouse had been readied for us. Home for me then became #303-3. As long as Kimiyo Kawasaki’s family was there, 3605D was my second home.

As Mas Inada and Mary Oshiro saw Tule Lake, their new home and the largest city in northern California. In it lived 16,000 within a square mile.

The dust of Tule Lake was difficult to depict except in words which Art Morimutsu used well: “Dust. Duts. The weather of Tule Lake, as unpredictable as a woman in a millinery shop. Snow in May, Indian Summer in November–but all the year round, wind, wind, and more wind. Wind, gentle as a baby’s breath; strong enough to rattle the windows; wild enough to shriek between the telephone wires–whirling dust and papers like a miniature tornado–sending fine dust particles seeping through the windows; blanketing furniture and floor with a coating of white. Dust. Dust. Dust”. It certainly was ever present. But so were the sunrises and sunsets, consistently as beautiful and awe-inspiring as any you could imagine.

Orientation meetings began the day of our arrival. So did seeing familiar faces and making new friends: Kimiyo Kawasaki from Cal was the first from the past, and architect Oliver noji was the first Evacuee I met. Kimiyo was to teach Spanish in Tri-State high, and Oliver, art.

Before long I met my first baby:

Francis Kuroda “born free” January 13, 1942

All too soon after reaching Tule Lake, Francis suffered from an ailment requiring sugar “Grandma Noda, free in Colorado, saved from her ration to send him some, only to have it confiscated by the M.P.’s because of regulations governing Evacuee mail. Upon hearing this, I saved from my ration, as did one other on the s taff, and carried to him. Postal inspection was avoided and Francis recovered.

Tule Lake had a Community Council but only citizens could hold elective office.

W.R.A. regulation put a big burden on the Nisei, the great majority being in the 17 to 26 year range, therefore they welcomed a move meaning they could now have the advice of the elders, the issei.

Any town of 16,000 offers a variety of jobs. Tule Lake was no exception.

Evacuees worked hard preparing the land for planting. For this they earned $14 or $16 [per month].

We toured our farm outside the Center fence but inside the area fence (which meant a double fence enclosed the Evacuees). With special permission only could Evacuees leave the Center fence. On September 2, all those to work for the schools were permitted to go with the rest of us to the farm. How excited they were to see what was left of the lake–their first body of water since Evacuation! Originally, Tule Lake had been almost entirely drained for homestead sites for I veterans. The idea had little appeal. The land was too barren and too desolate. Yet, already, the Evacuees had made it produce! Geneva Code’s restrictions against “forced labor” deterred W.R.A. officials from using the farm to produce surplus crops to sell on the open market. Instead, any surplus above our mess hall needs was shipped to other centers.

Songs popular outside were popular within the Centers except — Don’t Fence Me In. It hurt too much.

As this report progresses many more jobs will be recognized. For their labors, Evacuees, at first, had a wage scale beginning with $12.00 a month. Before entering the Relocation Centers, many Evacuees were paid as little as $8.00 a month in the Assembly Centers. Wage scales fluctuated at times but soon stabilized for the duration at:

$14.00 per month for unskilled labor

$16.00 per month for skilled labor

$19.00 for professional workers

Workers received a clothing allowance; non-workers did not. At Tule Lake the average allowance was $3.00 a month. It varied according to age of recipient and season of the year.

Geneva Code meant all Internees of War, workers or not, received 10 cents a day. Internees also had other advantages over Evacuees, like more square feet per person. At Tule Lake a 20' x 25' room served up to six, or even seven, in a family.

Geneva Code regulated treatment of Prisoners of War, Internees of War, but not Evacuees of War. They were unheard of until our government action in World War II.

Tule Lake located in part of Siskiyou and Modoc Counties in Northern California

Manzanar in Owens Valley, Inyo County, near Lone Pine, California

Minidoka (or Hunt) near Twin Falls, Idaho

Topaz located in the Central Utah Desert near Delta, Utah

Poston with Camps I, II, III built on the Colorado River Indian Reservation, Arizona

Gila River with Canal and Butte Camps built on Indian Reservation Land, Sacaton, Arizona

Heart Mountain near Cody and Powell in Northwestern Wyoming

Amache (or Granada) near Lamar in Eastern Colorado

Rohwer build on floodlands of the Mississippi near McGehee, Arkansas

Jerome also on the floodlands of the Mississippi near Dermott and Denson, Arkansas

After asking if I’d be the staff member responsible for them, Twink Kawasaki and Mits Nishio made plans for about 100 Evacuees to climb Castle Rock as soon as regulations permitted. On Sunday, September 20, with red tape behind us, we set off–as did many another group. How wonderful it was to stretch legs and gain new perspectives. We brought back happy memories and a desire to climb again–which we did often.

Earlier in September, the above headline appeared. Leaves, temporary or permanent, were encouraged by W.R.A. Also, crops outside needed to be harvested–but so did ours, hence:

High School faculty answered the call, too, to help save our $800,000 crop.

Dewa, dewa, dewa! All of us lived too close together, rumors (“dewa”) flourished and much time was spent to combat them.

Reports, whether based on fact or fiction, of ill treatment and even the shootings of those of Japanese ancestry outside the Centers were, of course, upsetting. Howard Imazaki, Tulean Dispatch Editor, therefore, decided to write of his treatment while on temporary leave in Caldwell.

Physically, Tule Lake was a dusty, barren, isolated spot. This panorama accurately indicates the desolation of the place, redeemed only by its friendliness which had to be felt in order to be appreciated.

Even though schools lacked many supplies and equipment we opened on schedule, as promised.

For all, children included, the months since Pearl Harbor had been ones of turmoil and tension. It was good for the schools to open, ready or not. Ingenuity and understanding took care of much in this situation.

Monday, September 7. On a sizzling hot day, Tule Lake dedicated its new 102' flag pole in the main fire break. Mr. Shirrell spoke at an outdoor meeting, and our Labor Day Parade was held. With a $5.00 limit set for decorating the floats, the Evacuees did wonders! Shig Tamaki ruled beautifully as Festival Queen–even though I had been hoping May Ohmura would be the one selected.

Everywhere, everyone was so very friendly. Even from my first day here, I was feeling and learning about what was to be Tule Lake’s “saving grace”.

October 5 - My class visits one of our fire houses with Ard Kozono to tell us about his work.

A Citizens’ Rally scheduled early in October on a very hot day to discuss “Nisei Responsibility as Citizens” was poorly attended–maybe because of the heat, but, more likely, because of the situation they find themselves in right now.

Oct. 18 - A group from the Klamath Falls Congregational Church were our guests at Young Adult Fellowship meeting. Said Eureka Satow: “They helped heal our wounds”.

October 12 - A hot dog and sweet potato roast for hike leaders and others.

October 30 - In 3605D a farewell party for Ruby Kawasaki.

Many a beautiful “V” formation was seen over our Center. (The Tule Lake Wild Life Preserve was not far distant from us.)

October 31, 1942. A Harvest Day Festival was held. Those who produced Tule lake’s crops had good reason to celebrate–their vegetables were plentiful and delicious. Many groups joined in the celebration which meant, in addition to the parade, much fun afterwards in our main fire break.

November 1, 1942. Tule Lake Recreation Committee was an active one, soon this day, an ingenuous Cabaret Internationale was held. Yukio Shimoda was the choreographer and Oliver Noji was in charge of the stage sets. Their talents and those of many others helped produce a spectacular program. Constantly all of us were to be amazed at what could be accomplished under the conditions surrounding the Evacuees!

November found eight of us still living in #123, our discarded army barrack, where, one morning, we were awakened by shots fired from across the fence. No one knew why but, with our M.P.’s trigger-happy and about 90% illiterate, such occurrences are very worrisome, to say the least.

At a haiku and senryu program, Ken Yasuda, poet of note, read a haiku he wrote on the eve of Evacuation:

Broken, broken yet
Perfect is the harvest moon
On the rivulet.

December 4 - A new address!! 303-3 in the warehouse area. On the fifth, a housewarming with Twink and Oliver.

Instead of being here in 3605D, Twink should have been graduating from Cal–12-14-42.

Instead of dreaming of “sugar plums” I dreamed last night I was able to get 2lbs. Of gum drops and 1 pound of coffee!!

Of the extra fence at the fire break, Cal Sakamoto had said “Why that fence? They should be putting up one to keep J out of Guadalcanal. Besides this one is of hog wire”.

On December 20, as I returned from a Community Christmas party at the Tent Factory and a visit in the village, the M.P. commented: “Why a fence? We don’t need it”.

Yet other M.P.’s will still stand with guns ready while flashing a powerful light in your face.

November 18 - Tadashi Yago and I ran into each other this morning. Were we surprised! He’s teaching in our high school. Little did we dream this when he had to leave Cal in mid-semester, and some of us waited in the hall to wish him well–whatever the future held for him.

For me, Thanksgiving weekend was spent in Berkeley speaking to groups about Tule Lake, and shopping for Evacuees. I returned Sunday. Monday morning, such a glorious sunrise but, in the evening, that awful spotlight glare as I went to see Twink. When I’m not able to get used to it, how must the Evacuees feel?

Mr. Shirrell was to leave us to help in the relocation of Evacuees in Chicago. What was our loss was Chicago’s gain. He was a good man and an excellent Director. Joe Hayes, another good man, was Acting-Director until Mr. Coverly’s arrival. Many of us wished Joe could have remained as permanent director.

Years later, Sumio Koga who left Tule Lake for theological studies in Chocago was to write this of Mr. Sherrill: “...In December, 1942, he opened the office of the War Relocation Authority in Chicago. His task was to resettle the Japanese people as they came there. When he realized that the public was not ready to accept them and offer them opportunities, he resigned his position and took a job as Personnel Director of a large candy company. Then he hired over one hundred people who were waiting for work. Other companies then sought Japanese workers from the Relocation Centers...”

In addition to the church services, Christmas at Tule, for me, would have meant: breakfast with Julia and Andrew Kuroda and cute little Francis, dinner in 3605-D with Twink and her family and George, supper in 303-3 cooked on our 2 x 4 oil heater for the girls, George and others. Instead I was asked to “escort” Mrs. Isaki and her son to Manzanar because her mother was gravely ill in that Center.

On December 24th, with me as their ‘escort’ (guard required by the military) Mrs. Isaki and her son George left for Manzanar [from Tule Lake] and ailing Mrs. Tayama, JACL’s Fred Tayama’s mother as well as Mrs. Isaki’s. How I wished I could have been in two places at once, in Tule as well as Manzanar. In Reno, technically, Mrs. Isaki and George were free but their months behind barbed wire meant an inability to cope with sudden freedom as we waited between busses. Christmas Day began with a jukebox blasting “Praise the Lord and Send the Ammunition” at an early bus stop. Soon we were at the Manzanar gate being told Mrs. Tayama had died the day before. Later Dr. Muramoto, formerly at Tule Lake, told us the cries of “Get Fred. Kill Fred.” as rabble rousers searched for him during the “riot” had hastened her death; and that Fred and other evacuee leaders and their families had been transferred to an abandoned C.C.C. camp in Death Valley for “safe-keeping”. After leaving George and his mother to visit friends I sought out Tom (“Taro”) Fujimoto from I. House [International House] days and found him about to attend mass. I joined him and had my one bright spot of the day. Soon after it, a Mr. and Mrs. McLaughlin drove the three of us at a snail’s pace through a terrible dust storm to Death Valley. Leaving Mrs. Isaki and George to stay with Fred and his family, we crawled back to Manzanar to find it also had suffered because of the severe storm–apparently not at all unusual for Manzanar. By 8:00 p.m. I was in a dusty bed in a dust covered room after a long, cold, windy walk to the john and shower. Christmas dinner? A sandwich and a glass of milk during the quick stop we had made at Panamint Springs en route home.

The next few days for me were spent seeing and hearing all I could about Manzanar as well as visiting Taro and his sisters, and former Tuleans Franny and Bob Throckmorton. Despite all Bob’s efforts, newspaper reports were always at such variance with the facts–as was the case with all the Relocation Centers.

Following Mrs. Tayama’s funeral December 28th in the C.C.C. camp, Mrs. Isaki and George drove back to Manzanar in the hearse and I was asked to spend the night with them for their added protection. The three of us shared an empty (dusty) room except for one cot, one straw mattress and two G.I. blankets (as furnished each evacuee on his arrival). The two policemen (1 nikonjui, 1 hadujim) who kept watch all night outside our door, were an indication of the tensions which still existed three weeks after Manzanar’s so called “riot”.

Before leaving Manzanar (which we did December 29th) a bit more about this Relocation Center:

Manzanar had four directors in quick succession before one, Ralph Merritt, was to become permanent. However, by the time of his arrival, turmoil was such that a riot seemed almost inevitable. One occurred in early December and the military took over. Several Evacuees were shot (from the back), one died instantly, one died later.

Regarding an article in Life for April 6, 1942, reporting on evacuation to Manzanar, Miss Light notes: A comforter? Only when an Evacuee brought it with him! Government issue meant brown army blankets. The ticking? To be filled with straw for use as a mattress–for the duration...A menu can always be made to sound so good.

12-30-42 –How good it was for the four of us to see Tule Lake. Mr. Akiyama, interned for a year without charge, had been released to our care in Reno in order to be reunited with his family. What a wonderful start for a new year!

And December 31–A beautiful New Year’s gift for all of us–no more guards at the fire break fence!!!

May 1943 mean a happier year for all, everywhere.

Yes, new-fallen snow did make Tule Lake beautiful but it also added to our woes. With our temperatures varying as much as 50 to 75 degrees in a day, ground frozen in the morning would thaw by noon only to freeze again at night. All too often, beautiful snow in the morning soon became a difficult-to-maneuver sea of slush.

Our gumbo mud was difficult to maneuver. Before my mail-order boots arrived, I would leave home with two pairs of shoes, as did many others. On my job or while visiting, I was able to wear a mud-free peair. All too often, the walking shoes would get stuck in the stuff, at times over ankle deep!

Riley O’Suga depicted here was born Hiroshi Sugasawara. He was evacuated from Los Angeles. In mid-May 1943, Tulean Dispatch was to report on his departure (probably on May 1): “Well known for his ability to write, Riley will be missed by the magazine readers. He left for Chicago where he hopes to take up his neglected hobby of photography, and possibly go to a photography school”.

Too often wearing apparel available to Evacuees in all the Centers was jusst as ill-fitting as Lil Neebo’s shoes issued in Amache!

Moab’s Isolation Center soon moved to Leupp, Arizona. Established December ‘42 following Poston’s disturbance in November, it was closed December ‘43 by W.R.A.’s Washington Office after it realized too many of the 83 occupants were there without the prescribed trial or chance to defend themselves.

Most Evacuees felt they had no alternative but to comply with Evacuation. Because this also was the procedure urged by J.A.C.L., a few in each Center blamed J.A.C.L. for their predicament and, all too often, resorted to beating up its leaders to vent frustrations incurred by Evacuation itself.

Some Comments on Food

We who lived in the discarded army barracks upon arrival in September had to eat with the M.P.’s in their mess hall until our dining room was enlarged. When we did join the staff, we found meat served three times a day “because we paid for our meals”. Some of us suspected, though, it was food rightfully belonging to the Evacuees. When time proved us right, several of us began eating there only when necessary–thus easing our consciences but not altering staff practice, unfortunately.) Food items, notably meat and sugar, were also being fed to the Black Market by some of the staff members working in the food warehouses.

W.R.A. allotted 45 cents a day per Evacuee for their meals. Mr. Peck, Tle’s Chief Steward, used only 38 cents and not all of even that amount reached the Evacuee tables. On January 22, Kishi-san, Block 36 Chef, told me what he had received that week to serve 250 people. The figures are his; the comments mine:

–For that week, 14 lbs. Of sugar or an average of 1.79 tablespoons per person per week. War rationing, as I recall, permitted about four times that amount.

–For five days, a total of 175 lbs. Of meat. “Officially” he was allotted 450 lbs!

–For the two meatless days, a total of 154 lbs. Of fish–almost the “official allotment”. After all, there was no Black Market for fish!

Ration books were taken as Evacuees entered the Centers and were returned, with the appropriate stamps removed, when they left for Outside.

Food was ordered through the army–thus we were always able to get our allotted amounts

Student Relocation

On December 7, 1941, enrolled in 74 Pacific Coast colleges were 2,557 Japanese American students with three times the number of honor students than their percentage indicated. Almost with Evacuation, Student Relocation Committees sprang into being. Mid-March found Joseph Conard of the American Friends Service Committee establishing in U.C.’s Stiles Hall a clearing house for coordinating their efforts, but when the need for nationwide acceptance for Japanese American students was felt, the National Japanese-American Student Relocation Council came into being. Students in the Centers were polled; cleared inland colleges were also polled; community sentiment studied; and scholarships and job opportunities were solicited for those in need. Early in January this Council was able to send in a report for January stating a total of 870 Japanese American students, of whom 360 were relocated and attended fall terms, had been accepted by American colleges and universities.

Many Evacuees always gathered at the gate to speed departing friends on their way. On January 28, eleven left for Outside–seven were students or workers on indefinite leave; four were transferees joining family members in the Topaz Center in Utah.

Job Relocation

Relocation of Evacuees other than students got off to a much slower start. On March 18, 1942, the War Relocation Authority was established to administer the Centers. Milton S. Eisenhower, its first director, believed the Centers should be “home” for the Evacuees for the war’s duration, at least. Fortunately Dillon S. Myer, appointed June 17, 1942, soon became convinced otherwise.

Being a government ward encircled by barbed wire, constantly watched by manned guard towers and the bright glare of spotlights affected the Evacuees in so many ways. Their gradual deterioration was painful to watch. Mr. Myer soon realized this and became convinced that some form of relocation inland had to be initiated to save the Evacuees from themselves, as well as to save our country from the inevitable effects of perpetuating a system so damaging to even 110,000 of its people.

On February 4, 1943, Pacific Citizen, J.A.C.L.’s newspaper, reported:

The White House

February 1, 1943

My Dear Mr. Secretary:

The proposal of the War Department to organize a combat team consisting of loyal American citizens of Japanese descent has my full approval. The new combat team will add to the nearly five thousand loyal Americans of Japanese ancestry who are already serving in the armed forces of our country.

This is a natural and logical step toward the reinstitution of the selective service procedures which were temporarily disrupted by the evacuation from the west coast.

No loyal citizen of the United States should be denied the democratic right to exercise the responsibilities of his citizenship, regardless of ancestry. The principle on which this country was founded and by which it has always been governed is that Americanism is a matter of the mind and heart; Americanism is not, and never was, a matter of race or ancestry. A good American is one who is loyal to this country and to our creed of liberty and democracy. Every loyal American citizen should be given the opportunity to serve this country wherever his skills will make the greatest contribution–whether it be in the ranks of our armed forces, war production, agriculture, government service, or other work essential to the war effort.

I am glad to observe that the War Department, the Navy Department, the War Manpower Commission, the Department of Justice, and the War Relocation Authority are collaborating in a program which will assure the opportunity for all loyal Americans, including Americans of Japanese ancestry, to serve their country at a time when the fullest and wisest use of our manpower is all important to the war effort.

Very sincerely yours,

Franklin D. Roosevelt.

Evacuee cameras were surrendered with Evacuation. Those joining Tule Lake’s staff could keep theirs but were not to use them. For staff only, this ban was lifted, temporarily, in time for me to use my Brownie at our Y.P.C. Conference. It was nice to be no longer solely dependent upon W.R.A.’s official photographers’ views of life within the Centers.

A Personal Observation: So often while with W.R.A. I felt the Evacuees who were “coming out on top” were those with a faith to cling to–be it Buddhist or Christian; and, if Christian, Catholic or Protestant. All the groups provided the sustenance so sorely needed during the vicissitudes of Relocation. At Tule Lake’s Union Church, Nisei were fortunate to have Andrew Kuroda, Shigeo Tanabe and Daisuke Kitagawa ministering to their needs.

With special permission from Jake Jacoby to be outside the Center fence after 6:00 p.m. on April 10, we held a farewell picnic supper for Twink (Kimiyo Tawasaki) to leave soon for Chicago. Bill Inouye was also to leave soon–for Philadelphia.

As we followed the dark path back and neared Tule’s lights, Bill remarked: “Out of the darkness into the light–exactly how I feel about relocating”. So true!

April 15, 1943 meant a very pleasant evening–a party with many friends at Emily and Koso Takemoto’s “apartment”. They expect to leave soon.

While walking home after this dance, Ard Kozono, soloist for the Starlighters, and I saw the most beautiful and so nearly perfect triple lunar rainbow. My only triple one although lesser ones were seen frequently in Tule Lake.

Tule Lake Talent Show Finals

For some time five of us had been busy judging talent shows in each ward. Talent abounded; it was not easy to pick the winners. However, the finals were held May 8 with Yukio Ozatei the big winner. He won singing Begin the Beguine.

Yukio was evacuated from Seattle where he was high school valedictorian. Hospitalization delayed his evacuation to Tule Lake but, once here, he made a name for himself as artist, poet and musician. A talented fellow, indeed!

At Our Motor Pool

Army regulations prohibited pictures of anything military–as the guard towers or fence; the M.P.’s; and, later, the tanks and machine guns. Official photographers faithfully abided by this rule. As I used my camera I felt such a regulation was made to be broken in an attempt to depict Tule Lake as it actually was. I had to snap cautiously and not always could I get the pictures I desired, as I was able to do this time.

Rare indeed was a flower garden in Tule Lake’s harsh soil. These cosmos added a beautiful touch near a block manager’s office.

This scene also shows some of the individual porches which were built here and there. Several Evacuees, using scrap lumber, constructed porches or vestibules for utilitarian or esthetic purposes. Let’s hope not too many built them for the reason Tom Hayashi did.

Early in his days at Tule Lake, Tom returned rather late one evening and found his family had inadvertently locked the door, or so he thought! Rather than knocking and awakening everyone, he began climbing in the window–until a strange voice asked him what he was doing. The next day Tom began building a stoop in order to distinguish his barrack from all the others!

Fire was a constant fear. In a town such as ours with its tar paper barracks and crowded quarters, a fire could have wrought terrible havoc.

Space between each barrack provided a small fire break. Around each block a roadway doubled as a wider fire break. Every nine block square, constituting a ward, was surrounded by a very wide fire break, as depicted in this picture. Three fire stations established throughout the [camp] were supervised by Fire Chief Rhodes who constantly reminded everyone to be ever on the alert and to report even the smallest of fires.

May 31, 1943. Emily and Koso Takemoto left for Camp Savage where Koso would be teaching Japanese in its Language School.

Although Arizona’s law making it difficult to do business with those “restricted in movement” was aimed at the Evacuees, it soon had to be repealed in order for Arizona undertakers to bury their dead!

Probably 1943's late snow (the latest I recorded was June 2) caused this reminiscence!

Mr. Myer often found himself refuting all such charges, still they persisted. Such is prejudice, and such is war.

According to government regulations, every department head had to be someone other than an Evacuee–even though an Evacuee might be better qualified, as was the case in our hospital. Our Evacuee doctors, dentists and nurses were a dedicated group anxious to see that all Evacuees were given the best health care possible. Too frequently Dr. Pedicord’s actions prevented their doing this. Often, needed supplies were locked, and the key went with Dr. Pedicord when he left the hospital, or, at times, he would be unavailable to give approval when certain procedures were deemed essential for a patient’s welfare. His unwillingness to name someone next highest in authority often had serious consequences.

This petition, although ineffective, is worth noting because of all else it tells about Dr. Pedicord and how his attitude affected the Evacuees.

PETITION

Whereas, proper medical care is essential to a humane administration of the War Relocation Centers, which responsibility the War Relocation Authority has accepted in committing itself to provide adequate medical care for the evacuees; and

Whereas, Dr. Reece M. Pedicord has been appointed Chief Medical Officer for the Tule Lake Base Hospital; and

Whereas, Dr. Reece M. Pedicord during five months of hospital administration has proven himself incapable of operating an adequate health program; and

Whereas, he has engendered hatred from his staff and patients and distrust from evacuees as a whole; and

Whereas, his dictatorial attitude and flaunting of authority has resulted in a chaotic condition in the hospital; and

Whereas, he insists on outmoded medical practice and is contemptuous of the professional aptitudes of evacuee physicians; and

Whereas, he has made no sincere effort to obtain needed medical equipment and supplies when available nor to obtain outside treatment for patients when such service was unavailable at the Project; and

Whereas, he has instituted a harsh, “economy at any price”, health program at the expense of necessary medical service; and

Whereas, the foregoing has resulted in not only immediate hardship and suffering to the evacuees but in accelerated relocation of physicians and dentists even to the extent of their acceptance of agricultural labor to escape an intolerable situation; and

Whereas, during Dr. Pedicord’s recent absence, the evacuees enjoyed a period of honest, sympathetic, and intelligent supervision from Dr. Douglas R. Collier.

Therefore, we, the undersigned residents of the Tule Lake Project War Relocation Authority, request that Dr. Reece M. Pedicord be removed from the position of Chief Medical Officer, and that Dr. Douglas R. Collier be appointed as his successor.

DATED: June 26, 1943

On June 26 I took leave to visit my family in New Jersey. Many friends wished me well before I left 303-3. Many others gathered at the gate. Mrs. Kanow, her daughter Joy (one of my first graders, all of whom were very special to me) and Koyo Kuga were also among those to speed me on my way and to wish me a quick and safe return.

En route I stopped briefly to see several Tuleans relocated in Chicago. Among them: Marjorie and Morris Abe, Nobu and Kaz Naito, and Kumeo Yoshinari. As much as I thought of Evacuee friends made at Tule Lake, I found everyone looking one hundred percent better once they relocated. Being free very quickly worked its wonders!

My going to Tule Lake had anguished my mother, unwittingly. She feared for my safety, feared political intrigue and my getting caught in it. No amount of writing has assuaged these fears so I had decided to use my leave to talk to her and my family to help them better understand the situation. I found myself talking to many others also. Because misinformation was so rampant, a few knowledgeable friends asked me to speak here and there which I did morning, noon and night, days on end. Mother went with me when I spoke in our church where many sharp, critical questions were asked. I felt, with the facts, I answered them well, and could see attitudes changing–as well as the last vestige of doubt leaving my mother. As we walked home under a beautiful star-lit sky, she remarked sadly: “And I thought you were against our country”. For both of us, that beautiful night suddenly became even more beautiful!

Tom Hayashi, then a New York law student, came to visit. Soon we went to N.Y. to meet Futami Ogawa as she came from Tule to marry him Aug. 2. They remained with Mother until their wedding day but I had to leave before then–regretfully, because Futami had wanted me to be her attendant. Instead, a quick trip to Tule Lake with a brief stop in Syracuse.

Of all the activities I had missed at Tule Lake, the most important one of general interest was our first Tri-State High School graduation.

As I returned on July 25, Segregation was being announced. Doug Cook, our Publications Chief, was the one to tell me. He felt, as did I, that Mr. Coverly had betrayed us by suggesting to Washington that we be used as the Segregation Center because “that is where the bulk of the disloyals are”. Disloyal? That was, and still is not the word to designate our masses who resisted registration when our director was to blame for so much of this resistance. We felt, too, that a Center other than any of the ten Relocation Centers should have been selected to house the Segregees. One can only conjecture on how much less the trauma would have been had this been done. As it was, Segregation’s toll was to be high, very high–especially for Tuleans.

Doug also told me that Mr. Coverly’s staff announcement of his resignation had been followed by “silence broken only by sighs of relief”. Mr. Coverly went on to win well-deserved recognition in the military even though he had proved himself an unfortunate choice as our Director–and, down deep within himself, he had realized it, too.

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