Charlie O. Hamasaki: An excerpt from the Terminal Island series.

Interviewed by Toshiro Izumi
March 2, 1994
Transcribed by Mary Tamura

Where were you born?
I was born on Oct. 7, 1922, Wakayama-ken, Shimotara, Japan. But there’s a catch to it, like I was telling you. I was made over here in March, 1922 in mama’s stomach and then we took our family to Japan—my brothers and sister. My mother and father they left them there because of the hardship that they were going to have when they came back. I was still in mama’s stomach. Then my older brother got measles so she overstayed in Japan for a month. During that time I was born. So I was born in Japan but actually I was made over here. If I go to court, I’d probably win that case. Now if you kill a fetus, it’s considered murder today. So April I came back when I was one or two months old I came here to Terminal Island, California.

Can I get your brothers’ and sisters’ names?
My oldest sister Emiko, next is brother Tamikazu, next Futomi, next sister Shizuka, brother Uzuhiko and I’m the last one in the family.

You said you were one month when your mother brought you back to the U.S. Actually, you had no educational background in Japan.
Yes, that’s right.

What can you recall about Terminal Island—earliest time?
You know at two or three years old, nobody is going to remember nothing, you know. Actually the first thing I remember is kindergarten. My teachers’ names were Ms. Burbank and Ms. Overstreet. Two teachers. The thing I recall the most, me and my buddy, Tetsuya Ryono. He and I was one of the rowdy kind of kid. She always use to put us under the piano while they were playing the piano. We were put under the piano. We talked too much. One day, me and Tetsuya said, “We gotta do something about this. Hey, Tetsuya, why don’t you bite one side of the teacher’s leg and I bite on the other side.” So that’s what we did. “One, two, three, go!” We bite one time. Man, you ought to see the teacher scream. She jumped up and you know what she did? She took us to the bathroom and put soap in our mouth! That’s the one thing I recall when I was little boy, little brat. The report card those day use to have gold stars—five gold stars means you’re A plus. When we got our report card we had silver star—one only. I can still remember that.

Aside from that incident, what was your childhood like, at home, at school playground?

I can remember my childhood days because like other families had lots of brothers and sisters. Like I said earlier, my mother and father left the kids in Japan so when I came back I was by myself. I was a lonely, little kid. If I recall, Terminal Island was a community that we all knew each other. So I use to have a lots of playmates so I wasn’t too lonely. But night time I was lonely and scared because my father was out fishing, my mother was working at cannery and I hardly see them and I couldn’t go home to sleep after seeing especially a scary movie. I use to go to the cannery where my mother was working. I use to sleep in the empty, big boxes which the tin cans use to come in. I use to sleep until my mother finished the job. Then I’d come home and sleep. That’s the loneliest part of my childhood life. But during the day time or night time we’d have lot of fun cuz there were lots of kids playing around. But that’s when I missed my brothers and sisters.

Briefly, what was your educational background in U.S.?

Walizar or East San Pedro was the grammar school, Richard Dana Junior High School and San Pedro High School and I graduated in 1941, right before the war. After that I went to Military Intelligence Service (M.I.S.). I went in 1948 to Los Angeles Technical Junior College where I learned a trade. Actually I had a four years college education coming to me through the G.I. Bill of Rights. But I’m a “blue collar” type of guy. That’s why I learned the automotive business which is body and fender work.

While you were in Terminal Island did you go to Japanese School? Baptist Church?

Speaking of churches, we had two churches—one Buddhist and Christian, Baptist Church. But to me I like story that Miss Swanson, our teacher use to tell when we were little boys—the story of Jesus Christ. Fascinating. So I stuck to Christian, Baptist Church. Meanwhile, I was one of the first guy to be baptized. I volunteered. Cuz I feel sorry for Miss Swanson. They wanted to baptize a lot of guys but they say, “I don’t want to take a bath.” But I got baptized there.

We had two Japanese schools. One was Sokei Gakuen (Buddhist) and Seisno Gakuen (Christian). We attended two hours after school Monday through Friday but actually we weren’t too interested in learning Japanese and I wasn’t a studious guy anyway.

Some of the activities you had after school… Did you play marbles, go fishing, or what did you do?

Terminal Island many a time, you can’t beat that community of people like Terminal Island. There were so many young people running around so we organized something like the Olympic Games. Tuna Street people had their own team, Cannery Street people, Albacore Street people had another one, and Hokkaido area another team and we use to organize games. We had like Olympic games—all different types and on top of that had one of the best kendo team, a judo team and swimming team, baseball team. We took everything. It use to be J.A.U. long time ago. I don’t want to brag about it but Terminal Island we had more to pick from. That’s why we had better athlete than any other community in California. We won so many championships! You name it, we took everything. One thing we’re proud of. And when we were growing up, we use to play marbles. And Marble King was my buddy, Bill Nakasaki. He passed away. He was a champion marble player. He used to challenge everybody with dirty apron pant we use to call it. Wore no shoes and hole in trouser and walk around with full of marbles in the pocket. He use to challenge everybody and clean us all the time. That was a lot of fun. We use to play “Kick the Can,” “Lost and Found,” cowboy games and I forgot others. To me, Terminal Island was a fascinating, fantastic dreamland, I call it. “Enchanted Island” like I said before. We had everything. We could go to the mountain which is not too far; we had the ocean, all to ourselves—ocean and the beach and camping ground without any advisors. If we had advisors, we would have had more fun probably. But when I reached junior high, I joined the YMCA and that was something I never experienced. I went to Mt. Baldy camp, snow hike, Sequoia National Park trip and few other places. One thing I regret today, my mother did not let me into the Boy Scout because we had to pay $10.00 dues. I think we never had that ten bucks. Man, ten bucks. That’s why Terminal Island was real good!

At San Pedro High School, what was your major?

At San Pedro High, my major was automotive. I took industrial courses. I learned auto mechanic courses and I was a one of the hot-rod guy. I use to put in the Model A, a V 8 engine. That’s what we called a V 8 engine and we use to race in the home made racing ground at First Beach and Brighton Beach so I was interested in automotive at that time. Actually I didn’t learn too much cuz we use to fool around too much. They use to call us the “P” boys cuz teacher named us that because we use to pray a lot.

Did you participate in any High School sports?

Yes. I had Letters in three years of football and three years of track, two years of varsity swimming. I don’t want to brag but I came in last in the city final. Out of ten guys, I was the last guy. But I represented the Marine League. But we were the weakest.

I often heard you were never without spending money while going to High School. How did you earn the money?

I don’t want to go into detail because there might be a bad story in it but the good part, I worked my butt too like anybody else. We use to ditch high school and work in the cannery during flu season. You know when you get the flu, you get to stay home. So before we get to school we use to put the thermometer by the steam heater, warm it up and then put it in the mouth so the temperature went up. We use to give it to the doctor and he let us go. So when we come home, we use to work in the cannery, cutting the fish or gerring the fish duck. And we use to get twenty-five cents a can. So in one hour we made $1.00. That’s one thing. Another thing I use to skin dive off Palos Verdes and get couple of sack of abalone and sell them twenty-five cents a piece at Dominguez Hills, Lomita, Narbonne, Gardena, Torrance. All where the Japanese farmers were. So I use to go with my mother and sell abalone for twenty-five cents a piece. Then I didn’t know any rules and regulations, Fish & Games. We didn’t know what Fish & Games was. So I made my money. During the lean times, I use to come and harvest corn, lima bean, top onion at Dominguez Hills. I use to go on the bicycle with four to five guys. I would make fifty cents and come home. There was always money to be made at Terminal Island. So I always had hot-dog money, hamburger money, movie money and maybe date money sometimes and gas money.

I guess you went into fishing after high school or did you do something else?

In 1941 you graduate from high school. What are you going to do? Your father and mother are so poor you don’t get to go to college anywhere. A few guys went to college and even if they graduated, hey, them days… Discrimination. We can’t get no city job. civil service job, firemen job. You can’t work any kind of dealership—discrimination, discriminated. That’s why we all turned to be fisherman, you know. So I told my father and mother let me take a vacation after I graduate. “Hell with you. You go to work right now.” So my father got me a job the next day on the ship making a few bucks. That’s why if you had college education, today, it might help us but at that time, neh, almost impossible. Maybe out of the thirty-five guys that graduated, one went to college but he couldn’t find no job so he came back fishing. Same thing.

Do you recall the boat that you worked on?

Name of the boat. Soon as I graduated from high school, I got on boat called “Aloha.” That’s Kazuo Okuno’s boat. It was a little boat and I didn’t make any money. Then I jumped on “Naruto” mackerel scooping boat and I didn’t make too much money. So, I went on “New Bow”—Kinoshita boat and he was so-so. That boat was little small so I jumped to boat “Mari”—Kadonaka boat and I made few bucks. In 1941 I graduated and sardine season came and during the sardine season I was on the boat “Mari” from September, October, November I made the most money. The first paycheck I ever got was $500.00. Can you imagine that! Then I bought my mother a refrigerator and a stove with an oven. Then the war came so you know what happened after that.

Who was the captain of this boat? How large was the boat?

Kiyoshi Kadonaka. Boat was a seventy-footer and carried eighty tons, maybe.

What was your duties aboard this boat?

I was abakuri (means cork handler). On a net, there’s a sinker and cork. So, I handled the cork part of the net. It’s pursing the net. So that was my duty. And being an apprentice fisherman, you know, your duties included all the dirty work. Wash the dishes, clean up the boat and that’s the beginner’s duties so that’s all we did. That’s the old Issei style. That’s how they start you out.

You went directly into purse seiner fishing then?

Like I said small boat like “Aloha” and “Naruto that was not a pursing boat. That’s what you call lampara—half pursing type of boat.

Then it’s mostly pole fishing?

No, lampara means you pull by hand. You make a circle and pull by hand. Pursing mean you have a ring around on the bottom of the net and you pull the ring with the wrench and you purse the thing up. That’s the difference between the hand pulling and the purser.

During this time, what was some of the most pleasant experience on the boat as a fisherman?

I don’t know whether you call it pleasant or not pleasant, the most feeling, the good feeling you have is actually the bay fishing. Because night fishing is cold and damp and rainy time, it’s miserable fishing. Yet you had to fish. The most pleasant way of fishing was day time, fishing, looking for sardine season. We use to go the Santa Cruz, Dana Point and all the way south to La Jolla. Day fishing was sardine season and that time was the most satisfying fishing when we load up. Boy, when you load up fish, everybody works hard cuz all you see is the money in the net. There’s no lazy fisherman! Everybody has to work together and if someone screwed up, that’s it. You lose the fish. The money is slipping thru your finger. Same thing, we try to work hard and save the fish, then we load up and the coming home—that was the most sensational feeling, I should say. Cuz we know we got it made. The money. The money was there compared to these guys working on the land for $15.00 a week. Hey, I use to make $500.00 a month. That’s why there’s no comparison. That was the most pleasant feeling.

What was the most frightful fishing experience?

Before the war, the most frightful thing I experienced was when the boat, “Cleopatra” my buddy’s boat sank and we were right behind them. They ran into a reef because of the terrific fog that came to that area. At that time, we really had to slow down and you could hear the sound of the wave against the reef or big steam ship’s fog horn and actually we didn’t know where we were going. We don’t have any radar. We had nothing, modern equipment. That part was the most frightful. Otherwise, fishing wasn’t that bad. The money was there. Me, I like fishing—where the money was.

While you were fishing, what was your major catch? Tuna, sardine?

Sardine was the best fishing and we were making the money cuz it was most abundant them days. All over the island. I can’t imagine August, 1941, just before September opening season, I went to Santa Cruz Island and the whole island was surrounded by thousand and thousand tons of fish. You’ll be surprised. You call that akami—means the fish is so thick, close together that it turning water to an certain color. That’s where there’s a lot of fish. The ocean changes color. That’s the experience I look as there’s a lot of fish. That was an amazing thing I’ve seen in the ocean. So much fish in one place. Actually, we fish out sardine by 1952 and it was all gone. Sardine fishing one of the biggest industry, money making commercial fishing. There wasn’t too much tuna during those days. There was tuna but sardine was the major fishing.

Of course, it wasn’t all fishing. You had slack time when you had to do lots of work on the boat, the net and things like that too.

Actually, sardine fishing we worked from September, October, November, December and some part of January That’s five months. During the five months we could fish sardine mostly night-fishing and during September, day fishing. After that, all night fishing. When it comes to night fishing we work only three weeks cuz it’s full moon, once a week in every month. So, when the night is dark you could see the fish better due to the phosphorus in the water. When the fish swim, it makes this color in water and from the mast, you can see where the fish is. So, it was mostly night fishing. So, one week we rest and during rest time we’re working on the boat, mending the net or something. There’s always some kind of work. But at least night time you get to go out wherever you want.

That was your…

Tanoshimi like. Once a week. We look forward to that.

One week at night was your social life, then?

Right.

That’s when some guys went drinking, some guys gambling, etc?

Right, right. At evening, go see the evening girls. Remember we had dances at Terminal Island. Of course, I was only eighteen so you know I still think I’m in high school and we had a lot of high school activities too. Wrong way pillow us guys and we use to join them. That was one thing good about Terminal Island community.

Always something to do?

Always something to do. Some kind of activity. Never a dull moment.

Fishing came to an end with the start of war on December 7. What happened after that?

December 7 when I woke up, went outside, radio everything, got-dam-it, it was war. Naturally you can’t go no place. You can’t fish. All these guys who went fishing December 6, they couldn’t come in. They closed the lighthouse place. They put a net across and they couldn’t come in. All the boat who couldn’t come in. Arrested all the Issei. They took them to detention place in Saugus, California. I still remember. Saugus use to be a Boys’ Camp. They stuck them in there, you know. From December 7 we couldn’t go anyplace. Even the students were stopped then. That’s the thing—unconstitutional comes right there and of course from December 7 to February 2, 1942, we didn’t do nothing. February 2 President Franklin Roosevelt signed the Executive Order 9066. All enemy aliens that’s registered on the fishing license, they got a fishing license from the Fish & Game got arrested. Every one of them. They took us, even me, to Eagle Beach. I went too. They said, “Hey, we got a young one here!” I still remember that. “Get your coat, shoes and everything.” “It’s too hot.” “No, put your coat.” So they took us to immigration in San Pedro and I was the interpreter there. You know who was there? My friend, Jimmie Kasserov, Andy Kasserov. They asked me why the hell I’m doing there. “I’m an enemy alien.” You know, I was an interpreter too there, helping them out. One day you know what I did? I came out of the place. I said, “I’m going home.” “Oh sure, go back. Thanks a lot for helping out.” I was going out. I was sneaking out actually. You know that guy said, “Stop the guy! He don’t belong out there. He belong in here.” Ha! Ha! He caught me so I went back again so from here if I go into detail it will be a long story so I’ll stop here.

You were sent to detention camp, not relocation camp?

I don’t call it detention camp. It was a real prisoner-of-war camp cuz there were German prisoner-of-war with us guys. That’s one of the topic I said in the redress deal.

How many different camps did you go to?

Well, after I came out of North Dakota, they released me. They said I was harmless. They released me so I went to Santa Anita. From Santa Anita to Rowher, Arkansas. From Rowher, they let me out on seasonal furlough. Then I relocated to Minidoka, Topaz and Manzanar. Three camps. Of course to Jerome too. So actually five camps I went, visiting all of them.

You weren’t with your folks then?

Only in Rowher I was. When I went to camp, I’d tell them, “You guys put me out. I have no job so put me up.” So they let me stay one month or something at each camp. When I came to Manzanar, they found out that I was from Rowher and I got folks over there. They kick me out right away. I told them, “Give me at least ten days as I didn’t see my aunt and uncle in Manzanar.” So ten days, then they gave me $60.00. I didn’t have any money so with that $60 they put me out and sent me to Salt Lake City, Utah. When it get into detail, I’ll be talking forever. That’s good enough. Get the high points.

You were out of camp now and you went to Utah. Relocated?

No, I went to Kalamazoo, Michigan. I was the head bus boy, head bar tender. I was head of, head of everything over there. Of course, there was a shortage—man shortage. I use to head the parking lot too. I had a room there, a nice country, beautiful scenic place in Michigan—northern part of Michigan, you know, north-central. That was my first relocation. After that I went every place. You name it. I went to every place. All by myself. Nobody wants to go with me.

So as a hind-sight, what do you think about your life on Terminal Island?

My life on Terminal Island like I was saying, Terminal Island, even to this day everyone says, “Boy, I wish I was back in Terminal Island!” You never can find a place like Terminal Island. They all say that. Terminal Island, one, big, happy community, people help each other. One thing they talk about chief right now. We didn’t even know what thief was. You don’t have to lock your door or steal anything. You could put your bicycle anyplace, car you don’t have to lock. Man, people know each other, help each other and I don’t know helping each other but everybody know each other. Everybody was brothers and sisters. One big family, I think. You don’t find that kind of community anyplace, I think. I think this place called Hood River similar to Terminal Island. After I read about Hood River I didn’t know there was such a place existed. They don’t know where Terminal Island is. I talked to a lot of people and told them where Terminal Island is. They say where in the hell is that place. They don’t know. Now we write a lot of articles about Terminal Island so now people start finding out. That’s one good thing about Terminal Island I could say. When I went to Cleveland, I was in a room and in the next room was another Terminal Island guy. This guy he heard me talking so he banged on the wall and said, “Who is that? You’re from Terminal Island heh?” I went next door and it was Seiji Hirami. Maybe I didn’t see Terminal Island people for four or five years, maybe ten years or twenty years. There’s no invisible barrier between the Terminal Island people. If I see them fifty years from now, I feel I can just talk as though I didn’t see you for one day. That’s the difference of Terminal Island people. Feeling is there. That’s why Terminal Islanders stick together too much. They say I hear people say when we go to Las Vegas.

Before we go any further, I want to go back to your job as a fisherman. In a normal job, we get paid by the hour, or so much salary. What kind of pay did the fisherman have?

Before the war and after the war, we got the same way of getting paid. Like if there were ten men on a boat, ten men get each share. Out of ten working fishermen, you have to add three shares on the boat. Makes thirteen shares. Now add captain’s share, two shares, per share too. Boat’s owner gets six to seven shares, mast man get one and a half shares, engineer gets one and a half shares, rest of crew get one share. Add them shares all together and divide it. That’s the way it was to work before and we get paid end of the season. End of three weeks of one dark. We talk like dark moon to dark moon and lots of people did not understand us but it’s from one full moon to the next full moon. I think we were making the most money compared to any wage people working on the land – wage people. No, of course there were lean time, good time makes up for the lean time. And during the depression we never seem to suffer any. We always had food on the table. See, that’s the amazing part. When I was in Chicago, we had soup plant. We were eating all the time and we didn’t know what the depression was. We’re lucky.

We’re going forward. You came out of camp and said you went to Kalamazoo. When you return west again did you go back to fishing or what did you do?

No, I went traveling all over. There’s a lot of details but jumping from my first relocation, I traveled all over the country. I went into the service. Two years, mostly at Monterey Presidio (M.I.S.).

What was your duties there?

After I finished the school, I couldn’t go. I had to sign up one more year—extension. You had to have eleven months oversea duties or you can’t go. You had to extend one more month. Then you got to go. So that General asked, “Mr. Hamasaki, you want to go to Japan? You can stay one more year.” One more year! One more year seemed a long time. I didn’t sign up. I told the Lt. Colonel, “See all those fishing boat. My father won’t fight from Southern California. I’m going to fish after I get discharged from the service.” That was in 1948. Then I came to Los Angeles. I got the traveling money. I came from Chicago as I was inducted from Chicago at Fort Sheridan. Then I came here for my basic training at Fort Ord, then to Presidio. Then after I graduated. Then I was the head of that thing over there. The sport arena. [Unable to read name] was one of my helper there. The football player.

This was at the Presidio?

Yes, it was at the Presidio. Man I had a good job there. Man, I didn’t do nothing over there. Cuz I was in a special team, swimming and boxing. I did in M.I.S. Travel all over.

At that time you trained for the Olympic, didn’t you?

Yeah, I represented the Sixth Army in swimming. The first heat, the college guys were too good. Too good, man. That first place they chop me the trophy there.

You’re out of the army now. I hear you had quite an experience fishing in South America.

Boy, South America!

They claim that’s the highlight of your life.

Yeah, I guess you could call it that.

Give us some of the highlights there.

To me, I traveled all the way from Mexico to Guatemala to El Salvador to Honduras to Nicaragua to Costa Rica to Panama to Columbia, Equador and Peru. I went that far all the way up and down for four years, fishing. You know where is the most fascinating country? Costa Rica. Nice, clean, people are friendly. The people and Costa Rica are well known among the Central America nations cuz they don’t have any graft and they do not have revolution and stuff like that.

Costa Rica was one of the best country in Central America. The home port was Puntarenas. That’s the place you know Van Camp Company, Chicken of the Sea. They had cannery over there. There was our home port. So all of the neighbors went to fish the country up and down all the way to Panama to maybe Nicaragua, that area. We use to unload in Costa Rica but otherwise, some other place we set in the Grace Line. You know the Banana boat that goes down the coast. They stop at Panama. They have refrigeration so whatever we catch in Peru or Equador or Columbia we use to come to Panama and wait for the ship. We use to unload the fish and then go out. The most experiencing thing is the crisis at the Church of Cartago and (coca cinder deal?). Those things they have history. Cococinder got big history about the Morgan, the pirate burning the church in Panama and the Panamanians Indians painted the wall all black. They painted that wall. And underneath was pure gold wall. The Church of Panama. That’s the number one church in the whole Western Hemisphere. And the second one, third one is in Mexico and one in Costa Rica. Costa Rica church that’s where the angel suppose to be sitting on the rock. They saw the image of the angel and that’s where they built the Church of Cartago and put the gold. They made a Madonna out of that angel. That Madonna was worth $1 million. It had all the emeralds, jewels and everything. These guys from the United States, New York, I heard they stole that thing. They stole that darn thing. Sold that thing. I was sleeping on the boat and I heard all the noise. Went outside and asked what happened. The whole country is closed. They closed the whole country, business and all. You know what these people did? They all donated their money to the church to make this new thing. And every different part of the country they had their own flag—own town flag. They got their thing, march up that hill to the Church Cartago. They walked. From Costa Rica. From Puntarenas. San Jose is the capital. How many miles from San Jose? I don’t know. Some people walked two days but you can reach over there, you know. I could see from the airplane, I needed to fly. You can go up and come down as Costa Rica is a small country. You should have seen the people. Then I went to the church, under the church, downstair. People go there just like the Japan’s Kan no san—the smoke thing. They’re doing the same thing, washing their feet, injured place, everywhere. I asked what they were doing. They explain it to me it’s the healing power. That one of the thing I bet most of the guys have never seen a real church. A real church like St. Paul, something like that. It’s amazing! It’s beautiful! That’s the first time I saw a church. That’s where the Father ordained my St. Christopher. I still have the St. Christopher. You know what a St. Christopher is? It’s Sea God. Protects the fisherman. I still got it.

You know, I read this article about your trip to Central America in the Rafu Shimpo. I think you talked a lot about the young kids, didn’t you?

You befriend the kids. I always tell everyone. Treat the young kids good. They always remember you. You know, if you treat the young kids well, they can’t forget you. Maybe if some one was generous to you when you were little, you gonna never forget that guy. You know all these poor guys around here when they say, “Give me a quarter” I always give them a quarter or something but I always say, “Remember I’m a Japanese and I’m giving you this. When you get to be a mayor or governor, remember I gave you this. Will you?” “Oh yes, man. Yeah, yeah, yeah!” I still got the image. I still remember those things. When you treat a guy like Togi. Togi treated me real good. He came on that kinda ship over here on the “Kantai,” training ship from Japan. He became captain of the ship, training vessel. He told me. Saburo Kuramoto say they called him up and he went to meet him and he was the captain of the vessel already. That’s why I say always treat these small, little kids good. I did. You know, I rent an apartment. I sleep over there ten days. This was forty-five years ago I’m talking about. Everything cheap then. Americans are rich so I use to have an apartment to live with somebody. Everytime I come be sure nobody is in there but I let all these poor kids sleep there. Shoeshine boys. I had about a dozen shoeshine boys with me. Everytime they run an errand for me, “Are you hungry?” I use to feed them arroz con pollo. That’s steak, number one steak in Costa Rica. It was cheap though, twenty-five cents. Arroz con pollo. That’s the country’s most popular food. I didn’t know what it was before. When you go to a foreign country, you don’t want to eat nothing. I drink nothing, especially water that kind of place. I always use to drink juice over there so did these little boys. I treat them good. Few of them came to this country. They look me up. Yeah, they came. They still remember. Oh, that was the most amazing thing and they brought me fish. Yeah, they brought me fish and I had the other old lady, heh. The black guy in the harpu(?). Who is that guy who brought the fish? It can’t be that guy I was thinking. By golly, it was that guy! “What the heck are you doing in America?” He was a helper on the boat and was ten or eleven years old and use to wash dishes on our boat. Our captain was a good guy too. He hired those guys to come help every time we needed to feed them all the time—errand boys. We lived in Puntarenas for two months without working, know. I felt like a native over there. That’s why I got to know everybody over there. That’s why before the war, they had four fishing fleets over there, boats from Japan. The Japanese treat the natives good. Not like the shinajins (Chinese). They’re clannish. Japanese fisherman married too and had little kids growing too. Call Hiroshi, Kiyoshi, they come. “Yeah, here’s $1. Go buy something.” One dollar means twelve colon so you get to eat for one week—eat good. Everything was real cheap. Mexico was ten peso to $1. Here twelve colon to $1. You could buy a lot of stuff. I use to bring home bunch of alligator purse and perfumes. I use to go to Panama and free-duty port over there and I use to bring all kinds of things over here. Cheap like hell, everything. That was the good part of it. That’s why I know the whole town. I had all kinds of kids following me around. That’s why they never worked.

Well, that’s one of your highlight then?

I don’t know if you call them highlight but I had lots of fun in that town though. I never had that kind of fun. You know, money talks and I was young. That’s why when you’re old and have money, it’s a different kind of fun again. But when you’re young and have money, baby, you got the town by the finger, man! You can do anything. You even know the mayor and the chief-of-police over there. That’s why you can do anything and get away. Hey, man I never saw any place like that.

You were famous there. Now you were also famous, I guess when the Congressional Committee was here listening to the redress. I heard you were one of the “star” person that testified in front of the Congressional Committee. Give us a little bit of that.

Actually, everybody, you know, were you at the Terminal Island meeting at University Avenue when the Long Beach guy came?

No.

You weren’t there. University of Long Beach, UCLA and USC. They came to me and say, “We need a guy like you.” “Okay” I don’t give a damn. I say, “What do you want me to say? I’ll say anything if you want me to say anything.” They say, “No, we’ll write you something so this is the way you say it at the redress.” This is the redress time now, you know. I went through a lot of stuff. This and that, too much trouble. You gonna end up this and that everything. “How is it going to be?” I told them.

When the time came five at a time we go redress time. And five guys sit in front. One guy finish, then another bunch come and like that. By the time I came on, they gave me the paper to read. I look at it. What the hell is this darn thing I’m saying. One of them, I forgot her name, Sue Embrey, I think said, “Read this.” “Nah. I told you what I’m going to do. I told you guys I’m going to say whatever I want to say, not what you guys want to say.” “Sure?” “Sure. If you don’t like it whatever I want to say why did you call me over up here for?” So when they call my name, you’re suppose to sit down and talk but I like to stand up and talk. I don’t know why. That’s my habit. You know what I did? The committee keep on hearing the same old story, repetitious thing. They’re tired of this thing. “Hey!” I went like this. “Hey!” I went like this. They all jump up like that. Then I put my punch line, “Unconstitutional!” I told them. “Why?” That guy said. Then I went to the story what happened—cruelty to the people, no trial, you get arrested. So I went through all that thing. If I get into detail the story will be long. That’s why I explained it to them all what was wrong. One thing I said that nobody said. Hayakawa was there. I told Mr. Hayakawa, he’s a semanticist. He know how to talk and this and that but he’s not an American citizen and he’s a Canadian. Now that Canadian man got lots of money and everything. But he don’t know the experience that we went through. So if we get $25,000 it’ll be a shame to collect $25,000 from the government. You know what I told him that time? He say, but I say all the audience listening over here are probably going to agree with me because when you put $25,000 cash here and when you take the Japanese pride and put pride over here, Japanese people pride, which will we grab first? One thing I say, other thing is irrelevant but naturally if I was me or you, I’ll take the twenty-five grand and hell with the pride. P R I D E. To hell with it. I put it down. I take the money. All the hardship and trauma we went through we’ll take the money. I say to everybody. I told them that and other things the people didn’t say nothing. There’s other kind of things I said but then I put down the only white lady, the one that fight against the redress, Lillian Baker. I told her. You know what I say about Baker? “Baker, you’re a faker.”

From Washington D.C. they sent me the whole testimony—paper. I still got it somewhere in the house. And when they went to the Washington thing, M.I.S. guy they all went to the Smithsonian Institute, they got all the stuff over there. Remember Minoru Hara? He sent me the whole thing again. Did you see that? So what? He always write letters that guy and send me that kind of thing. Redress time. And then Mr. ______ asked me what I wanted is $25,000. I said, “No. I want $50,000 for what I went through.” Everybody woke up though by that time. I was making all kind of noise. I was yelling and I was like that. I told you I was going to express my feelings. But you know what I found out after that? I got hate letter. These guys they’re smart. They send hate letter to this house. They want me to bitch and cry to the JACL or redress committee and Rafu Shimpo. See, they try to do that, I know. I told these guy, “Hey, see what I told you guys. This kind of thing is going to happen?” Sure enough it happened. See, I knew it already before I went. If you testify strongly, then you’ll get hate letter. I got three of them. “Freedom Avenue” one of them said. “If you don’t like the country, go back where you come from.” That kind of thing they wrote. Yeah man, I knew it. You know what another thing. F.B.I. was on my tail. Did you know that? I never told this to anybody. F.B.I. Do you know what the F.B.I. do? At work they call me, “Are you Charlie Hamasaki?” “Yeah, what do you want?” They didn’t say F.B.I. “We like to make a movie about a person that is Japanese background and these two girls coming back from the East and they want to join you but they get raped or get into certain kind of trouble so that’s why you’re going to be in that thing.” I went couple of times you know to interview. They take me out to dinner and everything and go to the house and talk about the movie script and that. You know what I start thinking? These guys are bull-shitting me. I know. These kinda movie thing or he’s from Canada or he’s from New York, they’re telling me but they said, “Bring a picture of you.” What are you going to do with the picture? Where are you doing something. So they want this is me. Shinnenkai song I was singing, that kind. I sent it to you.

They were testing me out. Yeah, I went through the whole script just The Karate Kid. That was the same plot it was. Amazing, man, I didn’t tell anybody that because nobody is going to believe me. I went to high-tone restaurant with them too. These three guys. They came to check me out—whether I was an activist or not. See, they came to check me out and because I did that some guy say, “We need a guy like you. Why don’t you come work for us?” They told me that. I didn’t get mad. What the hell did I want to get involved for? Like I said from the beginning this is the way it’s going to be and it got that way. These college students guys smart in books and stuff like that but they’re not smart in street language. That’s the difference between the college guy and me. Yeah, that’s a lot of difference. Experience it, everything in life. So you meet all different kind of people. You learn a lot of darn things. So you gotta know who to talk to smart people, mediocre people and bums. You know you have to be versatile.

What eventually came from the script they were trying?

That was it. They found out I was a regular guy. That’s what I thought. And that was it. They forgot and dropped everything. After that I never heard from them. They just drop “Bump,” just like that. “I don’t want to disrupt your family life and work and everything.” They start talking like that. To me it was bull-shit. It was a check up. You remember, sure, movie star, Hula Hula and dumb goddamn, what do you think I am! Those young punks, they think I don’t know nothing. If you lead certain type of life you find out about these things. A guy who is in too much books they’re the most dumbest guy. They’re smart in book only. They’re not knowledgeable in lot of things. That’s why I’m glad I fool around here and there and everywhere and learned a lot of thing, good things and bad things. You gotta learn the bad thing then you know what’s good and bad. No sense learning everything good. You gotta learn the bad things too. That’s why oya baka comes out.

So even from Terminal Island after you left Terminal Island you had quite a colorful life, heh?

To me, I tell you. I always tell everybody I don’t care if I die because I led a ten men’s life. I tell them. You know, I led a ten men’s life so I think I did everything possible that I want to do. But I want to see the world one time. I was thinking the older you get you don’t wanna go no place. That’s why I was lucky I did everything myself without anybody coming with me. That’s one thing I regret. I didn’t have no partner to go around every place. I did everything by myself. No body wanted to do anything. They were scared, especially during the war time. They don’t want to go no place. But I remember when I was in Bismark, North Dakota, one old man told me, “When you’re young, do everything possible.” He said. “Or you’ll never regret it if you do everything. And when you get old and if you didn’t do it, then you’ll never know what was good.” It’s too late already. That why my philosophy in life, have fun and do anything you want. That way you won’t regret it afterwards. With experience, I think. I don’t regret nothing. Man, that’s why I’m satisfied today. I’m real satisfied I did, even if I’m not rich or anything. Yeah, sometimes I don’t envy these rich guys. You know I envy, but I envy myself. You do everything you want then you’re free. You’re never tied down. Lots of guys are tied down, one chain is tied down to the house. Lots of guys like that. Real free, yeah, do anything, enjoy your life. One guy told me when you’re dead you be dead for eons. Thousands and thousands of years, you know. When you’re alive you got only thirty years of good time. Its even the thirty years is kinda too long. Cuz up to ten years old you don’t know nothing. From ten to maybe thirty years, you enjoy a little bit. From thirty to forty you enjoy the most. So enjoy the most. Cuz when you’re dead, you’re dead for a thousand year. So out of all this million year this world existed, heh, what’s twenty years of your life? That’s a real short boot. Just a snap on your finger and your life is gone. So you gotta squash everything into this years that’s most important thing, I think. My mom use to say that. That’s why I try to put everything inside. Man, there’s a lot of bad thing involved too. But there’s a lot of good things involved too. If I say about the bad thing, the story grow more. Exciting things I should say.

Well, you got anything to add on about the state Terminal Island or your life? You gave us a lot of your…

Number one. I love Terminal Island. Lots of other guys do too. Lot of guys my age or maybe five years younger than I am or five to ten years older. That’s the center nucleus of the Terminal Island life. That’s the guy that really know Terminal Island not the guys that was ten years below cuz they don’t have too much to talk about. They don’t have lots of things cuz they see just their family. Like us guys we know we live over there nineteen years so we just remember maybe fifteen years of Terminal Island which is real short but Terminal Island people still, we even today, stick together. Amazing parr of thing.

We don’t seem to have the trouble in our organization. That’s why I think, we get along real good. Whenever we have problem we gotta speak up. Cuz I remember one time we had a meeting at Kyoto Sukiyaki and I was telling those guys, “Hey, you guys community this and that you’re getting something but you know, what’s going to happen. You gotta get a lawyer afterward. Because you got few technical kinda things.” Sure enough it happened.

When you collect money here and there where is the money going to go? You gotta put it in the bank and take that tax thing and all that. That’s the way it got. I told them. This was long time ago. See, I think about those thing. Terminal Island, I’m glad we had these guys who put all their effort into Terminal Island organization. If it wasn’t for these guys, it would be nothing.

Pretty soon everything’s going to die away. Eventually, it’s going to die away. Eventually. Cuz these other Sansei and Yonsei they aren’t going to take interest. Cuz we gotta have something left over, for to talk about. “Once upon a time there was a community like Terminal Island” We won’t let it die. Just simply just die. We gotta leave some legacy or thing like that.

That’s the thing. Even today I say, all these Terminal Islanders when I married first time I took my wife over there. “This is the place where I grew up—almost born and raised” and I took my present wife over there too. I’m not the only one that’s doing that. There’s whole bunch of other guys doing that same thing. Nostalgia. They just go and just look around, smell the smelly air or whatever, which got lots of vitamin cuz it comes from fish smell—vitamin E.

I say lots of time the air. The air is not smog air. It’s vitamin air coming from the fish smell. But that was one good community.

Even today the old Issei that’s left over, “Gee, nothing like Terminal Island.” They all say that. They all say that. There gotta be some meaning to that. Even today, they all think like that. What the hell.

Well, I’m glad actually there was a war cuz if it wasn’t for the war, we’d still probably live in Terminal Island maybe, leading a simple life. Now we’re more educated. We know what the hell outside look like now. If it wasn’t for the war, you would have never made your life. You would have never met her.

Look at all these Imperial Valley guys. They had to live in a hot place in Imperial Valley. Do you think they want to go back? Nah. No because of the war, we have reunions, we have parties and things like that. If it wasn’t for the war, it’ll be boring. See, we don’t have this redress.

This war became for all different people to mingle and know each other and find out about each other—from Washington all the way to Arizona. So actually the war did the Japanese American a great favor. That’s what I say one time when I made a speech at Cultural Center. I told in front of lots of people what the war meant.

Now getting back to Terminal Island, I had lots of people fascinated by Terminal Island that they had a place like that. They can’t believe it. All my neighbors from all different place, they don’t know. That’s why Terminal Island people got lots of friends.

You gotta treasure your friends. Even you got your brothers and sisters but your friends are real important too, you know. If you have no friend, you’re a lost soul.

Even after sixty years, heh?

Sure. Sixty years of friends. They tell me to join this club, that club around our neighborhood. Be friendly with your neighbor and go out with your neighbor and do a lot of things with them. Hey, if I do that I don’t got any time for my other friends.

So that’s why I’m just sociable with my neighbor and around Seinan community. But actually whenever Terminal Island get together or something, that’s number one on my list. My agenda number one is Terminal Island activity. That’s one thing. I’m not the only one that feel that way. Lots of guys feel that way—just like me. Of course everybody not like me. There’s few once-in-a-while kind. Some ninety percent they don’t come. Some of them one hundred percent don’t want to mingle no more. Too much trouble for them.

Actually deep in their soul, I bet, one of these day they’re going to say, “I’m going to come to the picnic or thing like that to meet my old friends.” And few of them are doing that. That’s the difference.

They still want to remember their childhood. They still want to remember their childhood. That’s why when they see their old friends, they get tears in their eyes. I know cuz I can tell by looking. They’re happy. They’re happy.

They have to treasure that one thing. It’s amazing. It’s not friends you made couple of years ago and this friendship have to treasure for the rest of your life kind. It follows you any place. That’s how it is.

That’s why you can talk to Terminal Islanders. You go cut them down or anything, they don’t get mad. You talk like this to somebody you just met, they don’t speak to you until you die.

That’s what I call Terminal Islander. The real Terminal Islander. Whoever listening to this thing, it’s coming from the bottom of my heart.

O.K. Charlie, that was wonderful! Charlie was known as, I guess, one of the most colorful character, I shouldn’t say character but personality that came out of Terminal Island. And as Japanese would say, he’s like a green bamboo.

When you split a green bamboo, it splits right down the center, straight and that’s what our friend here is—a straight person that doesn’t hold anything back, with a golden heart. Thank you!

That’s a compliment.

As an after thought, Charlie has one to two more items he wants to put into this tape.

Listening to my, I don’t call it essay, anything like that. Listening to my interview, a lot of people gotta think what kind of English is this guy talking about. He got an education from kindergarten all the way to Technical Junior College, I went to Los Angeles Technical. That’s me.

This guy’s English—what kind of English is this? He sounds like a Kibei, sounds maybe Hawaiian, a Japanese but he got certain kind of accent. Well, let me tell you from the basic standpoint.

The thing is, the school was ninety-nine percent Japanese and one percent Caucasian so we all talk Japanese until the sixth grade. We talk nothing but Japanese. This Russian-Caucasian they knew only how to talk Russian and Japanese. They were fluent in Japanese.

When we went to junior high school, we all got taken into this auditorium. You know, what the teacher says, “Since you’re here in San Pedro Junior High School you all have to learn how to talk English.” That’s how bad we were.

See that’s where my English came out. Out of this Japanese accent, a certain type of Japanese accent, we turn into English. That’s why there’s certain English accent have Japanese accent or Terminal Island accent I should say.

So when we went to camp, lot of Nisei young girls and guys say, “Look at all the Kibei group.” That was us. They thought we was educated in Japan. Came just up the boat. No, I tell them.

I explained to few people but I been explaining it over and over. I got tired of explaining so I finally say, “We’re all Kibei.” We told them. Then they understood. But actually, we weren’t.

The way we talk it’s similar to each other but one or few of them talk pretty good but most of them talk like me. Maybe a little bit better.

That’s a point I want to say because of this interview you might think this guy is from Japan. He don’t know nothing. That’s the way. So I hope you people understand, whoever listens. Thank you!

Note: Charles Oihe Hamasaki passed away peacefully on Thursday, August 30th at the age of 95.

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Evan and Ted hadn’t seen each other since Ted had moved to Utah, so their reunion was warm and loving. After we all visited, Ted and his wife Doddie invited us to spend the night. The big life-changing event happened the next morning – Doddie served us sourdough pancakes. These were new to us, the only sourdough we were familiar with being sourdough bread. Doddie was happy to answer our many questions about sourdough, adding that the sourdough starter she had was purported to have been passed down from the original old-time Alaskan “Sourdoughs” from the late 19th century. Doddie gave us some of her starter, and explained how to replenish it every time we would use any.

Even though our introduction to sourdough was pancakes, our preference has always been biscuits, which have become an essential in every family breakfast. When we spent time at our Lake Havasu vacation home, we would all gather around the table in the evening for a rousing session of the card game “Estimation,” sometimes known as “Oh, Hell,” a game in which seven cards are dealt to each player, then six, etc., with each player estimating how many tricks he or she will take. In the middle of the game, Michelle would excuse herself, stating that she needed to begin the process for making sourdough biscuits for the next morning’s breakfast. As Michelle began the process, invariably someone would ask how many batches she was making. When she responded that she was doubling the recipe, all hell would break loose, eliciting jeers and “Are you kidding? Make a triple recipe,” or eventually, “You know you have to make a fourple batch.” I never understood why this conversation always had to take place. Michelle should have just made a quadruple recipe to begin with. If the card players are distracted and fail to prevent Michelle from making just a double batch, oh boy, at breakfast the next morning, instead of being grateful to Michelle for delivering this delicious treat, these vultures would chastise her for not realizing that there are growing boys for goodness sake and you know we’re all hungry at breakfast and you know we’re gonna want leftovers and when will you learn that you always need to make a fourple batch? I use Michelle’s name, although in early years this was my job and sometimes Jeannette would make the biscuits, but it was usually Michelle. So we’d have a breakfast of sourdough biscuits with sausage gravy and eggs. Sometimes, if Evan had gone fishing at dawn, we’d have fresh bass, as well.

Our sourdough starter has been passed down from generation to generation. Michelle and Jeannette still make sourdough biscuits regularly. Jeannette and her husband traditionally get together for a Palm Sunday brunch at Kolin’s brother’s home An essential part of this brunch is always a huge batch of Jeannette’s sourdough biscuits. My grandson Jacob, a really creative chef, in addition to biscuits and pancakes, has made sourdough bread and English muffins.

Back in the 1800’s, sourdough starter was an essential ingredient in every prospector’s pack. A book we bought, Sourdough Jack’s Cookery, which contains recipes and stories, tells about a prospector who had lost his mule in a snowslide. When he saw that his sourdough starter had spilled, he painfully climbed down the hill and scraped the starter off his dead mule’s nose into an empty tobacco tin.

Sourdough starter is a leavening agent. A second leavener is needed. The prospectors usually used baking soda. Baking powder was sometimes used, but the sourdoughs, being virile men, wanted no part of that because baking powder was said to be like saltpeter, causing a loss of libido. In Sourdough Jack’s book, a journalist who claimed to have been present at the time during the last big gold stampede in Alaska, told about approximately a hundred prospectors who were camping along the river, when Maud, a woman whose charms were for sale anywhere a mining camp sprung up, pitched her tent downstream. Unfortunately, Maud got no business because the prospectors had spent all their money on tools and equipment and mined no gold, so they decided to leave. As the boats shoved off, Maud waved her hand and said, “Good-bye, you bakin’ powder eatin’ sons of bitches.” This is but one of many sourdough stories, and I’m sure there are many more about our family that I can’t remember at this time.

Who would have thought 61 years ago that a simple gift would create so many wonderful memories?

CLICK FOR SOURDOUGH BISCUIT RECIPE

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The group’s performance on the program was seen by over 73,000,000 people, people, setting a record at the time for the largest television audience in America.

Soon the whole world was to become obsessed with what was known as the Fab Four: John, Paul, George and Ringo. John was the founder, leader co-lead singer of the band. He had his own microphone while Paul and George shared one.

There was something special about John. Even then I recognized he had star power and wanted to look like him.

Everyone had their favorite Beatle. My best friend chose Paul. Arguments would break out between us. But it was a friendly rivalry, for we loved them all. Boys generally preferred John and George; girls, Paul and Ringo.

My parents let me grow my hair longer and I became conscious of how I dressed. I even wore Beatle Boots playing kickball in the 5th grade.

Today, John and Paul are regarded as the greatest composers in pop and rock history.

John Lennon’s life ended in December 1980 in New York City, approximately at 11:15. He was shot twice in the back and twice in the shoulder by a lone assailant. John was 40 years old.

RIP: John.
Your music and legacy lives on.

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Article and pictures by guest writer Sharon Heck

My first trip to California was on a Michigan State University (MSU) student train to the 1956 Rose Bowl football game. It was December 1955 and I had saved my money to pay for the trip, which included the train ride on reclining seats, an inexpensive hotel room in Los Angeles, transportation to Pasadena for the Rose Parade, and a ticket plus transportation to the Rose Bowl game.

The train ride took several days as we were shunted off to side tracks for many hours near Chicago, so that we wouldn’t interfere with regularly scheduled trains. We slept in our reclining seats when it became dark outside, and the lights were dimmed. There was a dining car where we could purchase food, but I think we brought some food with us. A great deal of the whole experience was spent going to California and returning from California on the train. I do remember the beauty of Union Station from which we were bussed to the Grant Hotel. It later became a resident hotel and might not even exist today.

There were extra tours offered, so we went to Disneyland one day. The park had opened that year and wasn’t completed. I recall a large ship restaurant which advertised a certain type of tuna fish. I also remember the Golden Horseshoe Saloon which is still there. It is three-quarters in size to a real western saloon and had a great stage show which included a comedian, singers, and cancan dancers. There was a show in a revolving building which showcased the history of the use of electricity in our lives. The tuna ship was gone within a few years, and the Park has changed a great deal since 1955. We did ride the E-ticket rides of the day and that was very exciting.

One of our group had relatives in the Los Angeles area and they drove us to Griffith Park one day. We didn’t go to the observatory, we just drove around the area. It was extremely lush and beautiful, and had great views of the city.

January 1, 1956, was on a Sunday that year, so the Rose Parade and the football game were on Monday, January 2, 1956. No parade or football game was allowed on a Sunday, and this is still true today. We were transported very early that Monday to Pasadena, and found places on the street to view the parade. I took a great many slide pictures of the floats, and unfortunately, there was a blond ponytail in most of them. We were behind several layers of people, and even my height wasn’t enough to compensate. It became a family joke when I showed my slides that we saw lots of blond ponytails. The floats were very magnificent and the Rose Parade was a true highlight of the trip.

MSU played UCLA in the Rose Bowl game that Monday afternoon. The game was tied 14 to 14 very near the end of the 4th quarter. Dave Kaiser kicked a field goal for MSU with 7 seconds left on the clock to win the game 17 to 14. He was a backup kicker and it was his first field goal that year. There were late penalties and bedlam was happening on the field and in the stands. The stands emptied onto the field with the win and the goalpost was torn down. Goalposts were made of wood in those days and I still have a small piece of wood from that goalpost. The student train was filled again, and a very happy, victorious group of MSU students returned to the campus. My first trip to California was a huge success and left me wanting more.

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Written by guest writer Joanne Kawamura

Years ago I had asked mom to write down a few things about her growing up, because, well, I didn’t know. You’d think I would remember, but I really didn’t. While looking through some papers, I found pages she had written about her childhood. So, this is a compilation of my personal history and memories of Mom.

Mom was the third child born to Kuichi and Fumi Izumi on May 17, 1921. She had an older sister Kaneko (fondly known as Kay), an older brother Toshiro, a younger sister Mary and a younger brother Katsumi. She attended Mildred Walizard Grammar School, Richard Henry Dana Junior High School, and San Pedro High School — graduating class of summer 1939 with over 300 students (the largest graduating class of that time).

She wrote:
“Recollection of early years before kindergarten is very vague. We didn’t have many toys, but played jump rope, hop scotch, played with paper dolls and colored. Living in a small community, we all walked to school … there were very very few cars. Even bicycles were scarce.  Everyday living was routine: Monday through Friday Grammar School and 3:30 to 5:00 in the afternoon was Japanese School.  Saturday was a free day. Sunday was church and church activities in the afternoon. During rainy days, they hoped the mothers would bring them lunch. Then they would compare peanut butter sandwiches and whoa! — you were lucky if you got lunch meat.”

Going to Junior High School, they had to wear uniforms, a sailor Fu-ku (collar) with black pleated skirt. The school was located in San Pedro, and they had to ride the ferry boat and walk 2-3 miles to school. They couldn’t afford the 3 cents bus ride and only rode the bus on rainy days. High School uniform was a blue dress, and only on Wednesdays were they free to wear something different.  The High School was located a few more blocks uphill from the Junior High.

Terminal Island had a population of about 3000 — all Japanese except for one Russian family. There were a lot of Italians, Slovenians, Filipinos that came to work on Terminal Island. Ba-chan (grandmother) didn’t want mom to work in the cannery except for those few days when she had to hold Ba-chan’s spot because when you miss a day, they won’t call you the next day. Mom said she had two jobs, one was putting an exact number of sardines in the can head to tail & tail to head. The other job she had was removing the liver from cod fish so they could make cod liver oil.  Yeeesh!

New Year’s Day was the biggest holiday. Each house had a go-chi-so (a luxurious meal or a feast).  Even though they all made the same things, they would go around and visit and wish a Happy New Year and receive “hi-ne-ri” (“ingenious, twisted, creative”) money. Usually it was 25 cents — and that was a lot!  After several houses, if they had enough, they would ride the ferry and go to the movies (either Cabrillo Theater or Warner Brothers theater). And on the Januray 2^nd, if they had any leftover money, they would go to the Long Beach Pike, ride the roller coaster, merry-go-round, and played all the penny games.

Before the New Year’s celebration, they would have Mochitsuki (the Japanese New Year tradition of pounding steamed glutinous rice into a smooth, elastic dough to make mochi). Ba-chan would wash rice the day before and, by dawn, the rice was outside being steamed. After the rice was cooked, the pounding would start. Their neighbor, the Hayashi family, had 3 boys to help with the pounding. All the women would help shape them into mochi cakes or Kasane mochi for New Year.  The last batch was pounded more finely so it could be spread out into a large box and later cut up to make senbei.  When it was cut up, it was spread all over the house to dry and they had to watch and make sure there were no mold.

Growing up, Ba-chan sent both Mom and Mary to Ikebana (traditional Japanese art of flower arrangement) school. Mom said Mary made the most beautiful flower arrangements but Mom had no interest in that. Ba-chan also sent the two of them to piano lessons, Mary learned to play music while Mom learned how to play notes. I’m not sure who or when or where mom learned how to sew, but that’s where she really excelled in.

After graduating from High School, Mom enrolled at Frank Wiggins (now known as LA Trade Tech).  She was going to take up tailoring and dressmaking, but the war broke out and she never attended a single class.

The Izumi family was interned at Gila River where she acted as a nurse’s aide. She earned $15 a month, and saved every penny of it. While in Internment Camp, she learned tailoring from the ladies group. When the war ended she ventured to New York. A girlfriend had already relocated there and it was convenient for Mom to room with her. Mom found a job as a dressmaker. There she made a gown for Dorothy Lamour — her prized masterpiece. It was a beige satin evening gown with bound button holes from neck to floor. Mom told me that it was the most difficult garment she had ever made.  All the button holes came out perfect, all identical and no mistakes. I forget how many she made, but I am guessing about 30-35 of them.

It was there in New York she rekindled her friendship with Dad (in 1947) on a blind date. My parents had met on Terminal Island, but because Dad was a Kibei (a person of Japanese descent, born in the United States but educated primarily in Japan) and mom a Nisei (a person born in the US or Canada whose parents were immigrants from Japan) their social circles were different. Dad was too poor to get married at that time so he went to chick (as in baby chicken) sexing school (ie. identifying the gender of a chick).

(Younger sister) Mary joined Mom in New York and after a while the two of them left together to return to Los Angeles. Mom & Dad married on Labor Day weekend, 1950 in a house on 11^th Avenue. After the wedding, they journeyed to Chicago. By this time, Dad was an established chick sexor. Since chick sexing was seasonal work, they went back and forth from Chicago to Fremont Nebraska, Los Angeles and back. I was born in Chicago and this routine continued until I was 7. We moved to Gadsen Alabama, and I thought we were staying there as all their belongings that was stored at 11^th Ave was shipped out to us. Dad’s work didn’t turn out as he thought, so at my completion of 2^nd grade, we moved back to Chicago. Then the decision was made not to take me out of school mid year.

Dad would be away for 4 months, and it would be just mom and me. We’d go grocery shopping, pulling one of those wire carts, and once in a while (on the weekends), take a walk to the local department store or ride the subway to walk down State Street. We’d walk side by side and sometimes hand in hand. We played this “bread and butter” game. Anytime you are separated from your partner (via telephone pole or whatever), one would call out “bread and butter” and the other would answer “cup and saucer.” Mom was fast, she always said “bread and butter” first. Mom would walk me to school everyday before she caught the bus to go her part-time job. She worked as a receptionist/bookkeeper for an automation/machinery shop. She’d called me every day after school to make sure I got home safely (I was an original latchkey kid).

Growing up, I remember mom was pretty frugal. She made all my school dresses. I used to dread the first day of school, because unlike all the other kids, I never had a new dress on the first day. Until her dying day, she believed that if your clothes were clean and pressed, no one would notice. Besides that, I never had new notebooks nor pencils. But what I dreaded the most, I had no new crayons.  I, or rather she (or Dad) sharpened all of them and put them in the box for me. When I was about 9 years old, mom bought me this black book with lined pages. It was to keep track of money: where I got it and where I spent it. Periodically mom would ask me if I was keeping track of my pennies, and I would say yes for fear she would check that book.

In 1965, Dad quit chick sexing. He worked at the same place as mom during those months he wasn’t gone. But Dad loved San Francisco, and in early 1968 he left Chicago and drove to San Francisco. He found a job and an apartment so mom packed us up, and we moved to San Francisco in the middle of the school year. The economy changed and Dad found himself in Los Angeles.  By this time, college applications were in, the request to skip half my senior year was completed, and Dad was in San Francisco again and I was in LA. They stayed in the Bay area until the year 2000, and moved down to Hacienda Heights.

While in San Francisco, Mom worked at Canned Foods (now known as Grocery Outlet).  She was a general office worker and bookkeeper and ran the “office.” She worked there 24 years. She never lost her hand at sewing, as she continued to sew her own blouses, skirts and dresses.

Through all 65 years of marriage of Mom packing and unpacking (they moved 22 times), Mom never complained (neither of the moves nor living conditions) and always made the best of things. She rarely said anything negative. The only negative thing I can recall is when she gazed out of her kitchen window and saw people walking their dogs. She said, “I don’t know why they carry those plastic bags. I’ve never seen anyone use them. Why do they spoil the scenery for others?”

Mom was a perfectionist in everything she did and lived by this rule: “how you do anything, is how you do everything.” From cutting gobo for New Years go-chi-so (all the pieces were identical), to sewing, to her basting stitches (which were works of art) — she did them all with perfection.

She also liked to bake. Sometimes I would give her recipes or even prepare the cookie dough in advance, but then have her bake them for me. Her cookies were beautiful — same size, shape and color. A few times, I wondered why there were some batches that didn’t yield the quantity I had expected. It was only in later years I figured that she ate all the evidence.

After Dad passed away in Jan 2016, it was Mom and me again. I visited her daily, brought her up to our place and shared dinner together. My husband Sam and I took her just about everywhere we went, several times to Kauai, to Las Vegas, to try different restaurants, or just go for a ride.

In her last few months, Mom accumulated fluid in her lungs so we had to drain the fluid regularly. When her breathing became difficult, she was put on oxygen. In mid-March, she fell and broke her hip. The hip surgery went well and she was able to walk, but Mom succumbed to the fluid accumulation when breathing became too much for her body to handle.

I miss her but I know she is in a better place. She left behind many unfinished sewing projects, and new cookie recipes to try. I look forward to the day I can say “bread and butter” and hear her answer “cup and saucer.”

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Part 4: The Final Chapter

Written by guest writer Frank Koo Endo in 1994

In May 1943, the War Relocation Authority in Washington D.C. ended the internment program. They handed out a guide book to all residents in relocation centers to help prepare for moving out. There were three choices concerning leaving the centers: (1) Short-term, (2) Seasonal; and (3) Indefinitely.

The younger people were among the first to permanently leave the center to attend educational institutions or to look for a place to reside and work. However, in the beginning, we were not permitted to return to the West Coast, so many people ventured to the Mid-West and East Coast.

In the summer of 1944, my brother decided to go to Chicago to resettle. The Government gave him a rail ticket, $3 per day for meals, and $50.00 for financial assistance. After waiting anxiously several weeks, my mother and I received a letter from him stating that he had found a home and asked if we would come to Chicago. We immediately requested permission to leave Amache Relocation Center permanently. My mother and I received our train fare, etc. and headed for Chicago. We had been interned for two years and four months. We were finally FREED AT LAST.

After moving to Chicago in 1944, I continued to pursue my gymnastics career, and worked out at the Hyde Park YMCA. That year, I won the Illinois Junior All-Around Gymnastics Championships held at the University of Chicago. I also wondered how I would do in weightlifting, because I started this sport at Terminal Island. That same year, I competed in the 136 lb. Class in the City, State and Tri-State Weightlifting Championships. I took second place in each of these competitions. There was another Japanese by the name of Iwakiri who always took first.

On February 6, 1945, I reported for induction into the Military Service. I took my basic training at Camp Gordon in Georgia. There were about thirty other Nisei in our Company. After basic training, I was transferred to Fort Snelling Military Language School in Minnesota, where I was accepted to study the Japanese language for the next six months. While at Fort Snelling, World War II ended. We finished our schooling, and were shipped to Tokyo, Japan. I was assigned to war criminal investigations and served as chief clerk and interpreter.

Learning to type at San Pedro High School and my parents sending me to Japanese School started to pay off. I was excited to work for America overseas. I spent two and a half years with war criminal investigation work. The Americans that spoke Japanese were in demand there in all phases of work. I remained in Japan after being discharged from the Army, and worked for the U.S. Air Force Intelligence Service as an interrogator for two more years.

The Japanese noticed my gymnastics skills while I was working out one day at the Osaka YMCA. Because of that, I was asked to be their advisor to the Japan Gymnastics Association. In 1950, I made arrangements for the United States National men’s gymnastics team to come to Japan for an international competition and to do several exhibitions in various cities throughout Japan. My gymnastics experience at San Pedro High School and in Chicago became very useful. General Douglas MacArthur invited me into his Tokyo Military Headquarters with the U S. Gymnastics Team, and we talked for twenty-seven minutes.

During my time in Japan, I fell in love with a Japanese girl. Although the war was over between Japan and the United States, no Peace Treaty had been signed yet. Therefore, Americans like myself were not allowed to marry a Japanese national. I read in the Tokyo Stars G Stripes newspaper that honorably discharged veterans in Europe were being granted permission to marry German girls under a Private Bill in Congress. This was in 1948. I pursued this route and after two and a half years, I was probably the first American to be granted permission, in Japan, to marry a Japanese and bring her to America. My wife and I drove around the United States for two and a half months, and then settled in Los Angeles.

On April 21, 1988, the U.S.-Senate voted to pay $20,000.00 to each World War II internee for the act of forcibly removing persons of Japanese ancestry from their homes and putting them into internment camps. Then, on August 10, 1988, President Reagan signed Bill H.R. 442 which put the financial reparation into effect. I received my check for $20,000.00 in September, 1991. Those who have passed away such as my twin brother and my mother, received nothing. Only 60,000 out of the 120,000 internees survived to receive payments.

It is now May, 1994. I have been a certified gymnastics judge for both National and International competitions for more than twenty-five years. I’ve served as an official at several notable gymnastics events such as the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles and the 1991 World Gymnastics Championships. I have two sons experienced in gymnastics. They both competed for California State University at Long Beach and now jointly operate a gymnastics supply business in Gardena, California, that I established 35 years ago. I have been honored with the Ko-ro-sho (Hall-of-Fame) award from the Japan Gymnastics Association for assisting their many tours to America, introducing trampolining to Japan in 1959, and obtaining gymnastics coaching positions for top gymnasts from Japan at American colleges and universities.

There were thirty six Nisei, including myself, that attended San Pedro High School in 1942 and should have graduated that summer. We received a high school diploma while we were in the relocation centers. Recently, with the help of a San Pedro councilman and the current principal of SPHS, we will finally receive our true high school diploma! Our belated “graduation” ceremony will take place on June 8, 1994, fiftytwo years afterward. We haven’t been forgotten!

I am now seventy-one years old, but I can still kick up to a handstand — the fear that inspired me to take up gymnastics while I was only a kid in junior high school.

All of the cannery homes in fish harbor are long gone. So are the church, elementary school, judo, dojo, and the stores I went to. Children don’t go swimming in the harbor anymore. There isn’t the same fishing industry there used to be. The ferry boats are a part of history now, replaced by a large, modern bridge which connects the island with San Pedro.

Terminal Island was an island in Time.

End of Frank Endo’s story.

Read Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Read more about Frank Endo

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Part 3

Written by guest writer Frank Koo Endo in 1994

On December 7, 1991, I was in the twelfth grade, my father was still working the rice business in Japan, and soon I was going to graduate with the class of summer 1942. I heard on the radio that morning that Pearl Harbor had been attacked by the Japanese. I really didn’t know where Pearl Harbor was, but was shocked by the news. I wondered if this would have any effect on me. Early that afternoon I decided to go see a movie in San Pedro. I boarded the ferryboat that I took daily to school. Upon docking in San Pedro, I was taken into custody along with other Japanese Americans by armed soldiers. We were put into a temporary barbed wire enclosure. I told them that I was an American citizen, but they stated that they had orders to stop all Japanese. After being detained a couple of hours, we were told to return to the island.

Attending school became difficult because other students started to look at us differently. One day, all of the Japanese American students were told to assemble in the auditorium. The school principal advised us not to speak in Japanese nor gather in groups. With this hate and discrimination, I couldn’t work out or perform in gymnastics very well. I had only four months to go before graduation.

The Japanese American Citizen’s League (JACL) made each person an identification badge at the fisherman’s hall. Mine had my photograph along with verification that I was a student and an American citizen.

Soon, many FBI agents came to the island and started searching our homes to look for anything that may connect us with Japan. They wanted to know what my long antenna was used for. I showed them the crystal radio set and told them that I listened to music at night. The agents searched everybody’s home and looked everywhere, and asked lots of questions. One day, without notice, all of the Issei men were gathered in trucks and taken away to an unknown destination.

A curfew was in effect starting from December 7. Brand new P-38 fighter planes began appearing over Terminal, Island, and jeeps carrying Military Police patrolled fish harbor. Everyone feared for their lives. People started moving out to Los Angeles and anywhere where friends or relatives lived. We moved to my uncle and aunt’s house in Los Angeles. However, within three months, all Californians of Japanese descent were ordered to designated locations for evacuation. My mother, brother and I were sent to the Santa Anita Assembly Center in Arcadia, California on April 24, 1942.

We lived in wooden barracks built on the parking lot of the Santa Anita Racetrack. The barracks were hastily built for temporary use with wide wooden cracks between rooms. To have some privacy, we taped up newspapers on the wall. The three of us shared a room, probably only twenty feet wide by twenty feet long. The bathrooms and showers were shared by the community. We ate our meals at a designated mess hall within our area. There were more than 10,000 Japanese internees from all parts of California. Many people worked making camouflage nets for the war. I volunteered to work at a mess hall located by the horse stables. I also worked as a gymnastics instructor in the recreation department below the grandstands. My assistant was Tak Kawagoe who was Los Angeles City tumbling champion. During our short stay in Santa Anita, we put on a gymnastics exhibition as a part of a variety show. During the exhibition, I saw the hundreds of private vehicles that belonged to the internees parked inside of the race track. I don’t know whatever happened to those vehicles, since our stay there was for only a few months. We were then ordered to leave by train for an unknown destination. Due to military orders, we were not permitted to look where we were going and shades were pulled down. After an overnight trip, we arrived at a newly constructed relocation center in Granada, Colorado. The camp was called Amache. About 7,600 evacuees spent several years there. The wooden barracks were better constructed than those at Santa Anita. They had to be able to withstand the blowing desert sand and cold climate. Our room was a little bit bigger, too. We had a coal stove to keep warm in winter. I applied to teach gymnastics at the junior high school, and was asked to coach basketball as well. I was paid the professional wage of $19.00 a month while most of the others received $16.00. After six months of teaching, my brother and I were offered a job through my mother’s friend to work on a railroad at the open pit copper mine in Bingham Canyon, Utah. This was a job related to the war effort. The amazing thing I learned was that my grandfather had worked at the same copper mine as a cook at the turn of the century. Later, he brought my father to work there around 1917. My brother and I worked six months and returned to our mother at Amache Relocation Center.

End of Part Three. Stay tuned for Part Four, the final chapter.

Read: Part One. Part Two, Part Four

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Part 2

Written by guest writer Frank Koo Endo in 1994

In the summer of 1939, the canneries were so busy that my mother suggested that I work along with her at the cannery cleaning mackerel. I applied for my Social Security number and started working there at sixty cents an hour, the same wage as my mother. It was a great feeling to earn so much money!

About that time, many of the parents on Terminal Island that had children going to school in Japan, started to bring them to America. San Pedro High School set up a special English class to accommodate the new students from Japan. I noted that their math and art skills were far superior to us Americans, whether Nisei or Caucasian.

However, because of the cultural differences, we didn’t socialize with them very much in school. They were born in America, taken to Japan and left with relatives, schooled there, and eventually brought back to the United States. They were called Kibei-Nisei.

I began working out at home, lifting weights with my neighborhood friends in the early evenings. All of our weights were actually iron wheels from the fish canneries. I read Strength & Health magazine, which inspired and helped me in the lifting techniques. I continued lifting weights for many years to come.

We had a great baseball team on Terminal Island called the Skippers. They were fully outfitted, just like the pros. During the summer, the Skippers played other Japanese American teams in Southern California. We were the best. In fact, some of the semi-pro Caucasian teams came and played with us and we had some great games. Many of our top players were Kibei-Nisei.

The most popular entertainment event on the island was an occasional Japanese movie shown at the fishermen’s hall. Once in a while I went to see them and learned a great deal about life in Japan as well as the language. There was also a pool hall there, but I was too young, and wasn’t interested in billiards.

Finally in 1940, I began attending San Pedro High School which was located on the hilltop adjacent to Dana Junior High School. I immediately made a point to sign up for gymnastics. As a tenth grader, it appeared that it would be difficult to get into gymnastics because it was so popular and the class was full.

However, I told the coach how enthusiastic I was, so he reluctantly accepted me in the class. I had worked hard on my handstand during the past year at Dana so that I could do my handstand just as good as anyone in the gym. I then decided to work out and familiarize myself on the various apparatus, because the gymnastics competition would begin in six months. Soon, I was selected on the varsity team, given a uniform and began competing in the Marine League. I started to compete on floor exercise and the parallel bars, the apparatus that impressed me so much when I first saw it. After a couple of competitions, placing seconds and thirds, I finally won both events my third time around. That season, I finished among the top four on the team.

In the summer of 1940, I had an offer to work at a produce stand in San Pedro, which I gladly accepted. It was much cleaner than grape-picking or working in the fish cannery. I really began to appreciate the produce business and did so well that I was asked to work the following summer. I knew that my schooling at San Pedro High would soon be over and that I would need to decide what I wanted to do after graduation. Would it be fishing like my father?

Early in 1941, my father was called back to Japan to his dying father who was operating a rice distribution store in Shizuoka. My father was the oldest of five sons in the family and was responsible for the business after the death of his father. So, he remained in Japan.

My gymnastics kept me so busy, that I dropped the sport of judo. My brother and I were still attending Japanese school twice a week. It was still difficult learning the Japanese language but, by this time, I felt more comfortable with the lifestyle of Fish Harbor.

At San Pedro High, I was asked to be one of the two yell leaders for the coming football season. I accepted the offer, and we started to practice toss somersaults as well as familiarize ourselves with the school cheers and songs. Our team went all the way to the finals at Los Angeles Coliseum. It was a great season!

Gymnastics season began. I learned a lot from watching those who I lost to last season. I picked up new skills and added two more events—the side horse and the horizontal bar. Right from my first competition, I was placing first on the parallel bars and floor exercise and second or third on the other events. At the Marine League finals, I won on parallel bars and floor exercise, and ended up as the top scorer of the team. I went on to the City Finals. This was the most exciting time of my life. I was doing fine at school and looked forward to attend junior college and more gymnastics competition.

End of Part Two. Stay tuned for Part Three.

Read Part One. Part Three.

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An excerpt from the Terminal Island series

Written by guest writer Frank Koo Endo in 1994

The life in time of my memoir took place over fifty years ago on Terminal Island, located just east of San Pedro, California. It was sometime early in 1935 that my parents moved to Terminal Island with me and my twin brother, after spending five years in Los Angeles operating a chop suey restaurant.

My parents are of Japanese descent and immigrated to Wilmington, California in 1919 to work in the fishing industry. “My father, Matsukichi Endo, was born in a small fishing village in Shimizu City and my mother, Reiko (Ikerani) Endo was born in Iwabuchi City. Both of these cities are located in Shizuoka Prefecture, near Mt. Fuji, about 100 miles southwest of Tokyo. My twin brother and I came into the world in April 1923; our parents named me Frank Koo Endo and my brother James Chu Endo.

Fish Harbor on Terminal Island was located on the southwestern part of the island and consisted of a fishing fleet, canneries, and 5,000 Japanese men, women and children. The adults were the first generation Issei (a Japanese immigrant to North America), and their children who were born in America are the Nisei (second generation) like myself. The fishermen working out of Fish Harbor visited the local waters of Catalina, Santa Barbara and San Diego to catch sardines, mackerel, skipjack and tuna throughout the year. My father was captain of a small fishing boat and had several men working for him. My mother worked in the fish cannery of which they were part owners. Each cannery had a very loud whistle which was sounded when a ship came into the harbor with a catch, signaling that it was time to go to work. Most of the ladies knew what cannery was calling for work by its distinctive whistle. At times I recall hearing the loud whistles from the various canneries being blown one after another. This meant that many ships had come back full with fish. My mother, like all of the ladies, had her work clothes ready at all times, because there was no definite schedule as to when the ships would be coming in. Most of the ships did not have a radio or other communications equipment. Upon hearing the sound of the whistle, my mother would drop whatever she was doing, change clothes and run to work along with many others in the neighborhood. Four of the largest canneries were French Sardine, Van Camp, Franco Italian and Southern California.

We moved into a wooden structure home built by the fish canneries that was already occupied by two other families. Our home was located in the north end of Fish Harbor and was called “Hokkaido” by the locals, because in Japan, Hokkaido is the northernmost island. We only had two bedrooms and a kitchen. We shared two toilets and only one bathtub with the other families. The bathtub was constructed of wood, Japanese-style. Every evening, on a rotation system, one family would fill the cub with fresh water and then heat it with firewood until it was hot. It was customary for each person to wash their body prior to entering the tub, since everyone residing there utilized the same hot water.

The street that I lived on was called Pilchard. Pilchard is the name of a fish. In fact, most of the streets were named after fish such as Tuna, Albacore, Sardine, Barracuda or other related names such as Cannery, Wharf, Terminal Way, etc. Most of us lived on unpaved dirt streets.

The main street that extended from one end of the island to the other is called Seaside Avenue, and still exists today. Near our home, at the corner of Pilchard and Seaside Ave. was a fire station, and it, too, is still in use. There was also a fireboat station house located on the westside of the harbor along with the petroleum companies that catered to the fishing fleet. During the first few years, I spent my summers going to Brighton Beach, which was a very popular swim spot.

I entered East San Pedro Grammar School, and started in the 5th grade with 30 other Nisei students. The teachers were all Caucasian. Prior to moving to Terminal Island, my brother and I had been attending an all-Caucasian public elementary school. I was eleven years old when all of a sudden I was residing among many young Japanese kids my age who were speaking a lot of Japanese to each other. I was amazed! Consequently, my parents made my brother and I attended Japanese language class twice a week after school. I really hated it because it was so different from the English language. This turned out to be an asset later in life, as I served as an interpreter in the U.S. Military Service during World War II.

The Issei women living on Terminal Island had almost no need to learn English since they could speak Japanese for all their daily activities. The grocery store person, drug store owner, doctors, dentists, etc. all spoke Japanese. When leaving the island, the men usually accompanied their spouses. Since the men made trips off of the island more frequently into the American society, they had some knowledge of the English language, like my father did. I admired my father for that and it enabled him to operate his chop suey restaurant before moving to Terminal Island.

My lifestyle changed after graduating from grammar school. I had to cross the Los Angeles channel on a ferryboat to San Pedro to attend Dana Junior High School, which is approximately two miles from the ferryboat landing. There was a public bus, but it cost five cents, so the majority of us walked. Most of us made our own sandwich for lunch at school because our parents were too busy. When my mother had time, she made bento (Japanese-style lunch) with rice because we got tired of eating the same sandwich all the time!

While at Dana Junior High School I learned how to build a crystal radio set, and enjoyed listening to it in the evening before going to bed. Personal radios were too expensive. I built an antenna about 100 feet long. Some of my neighbors had similar antennas, too. When the war broke out, the FBI looked for all radios connected to those antennas.

Every summer, my folks gathered with their friends from Shizuoka Prefecture. Several buses were hired so that everyone could attend the annual Kenjinkai (Prefecture Association) picnic, held at Banning Park in Wilmington. During those years no one had their own automobile. There was no need for one. Furthermore, it was prohibitively expensive. On the picnic grounds a stage would be set up, and various people would get up to sing and dance. They had a drawing and gave away lots and lots of prizes. The children would participate in all kinds of races to win toys. We would spend our time eating bento, talking with our friends, and enjoying the entire day there. The same kind of picnics were conducted by the other Kenjinkai such as Hiroshima and Wakayama, but they had larger groups than Shizuoka. I remember having a great time at those picnics. It brought family, friends, and relatives together.

Just before Christmas, which we all celebrated (even if you were Buddhist), the annual mochitsuki or the pounding of the special rice for the New Year celebration could be seen throughout fish harbor. The pounding of the rice was done outdoors. Many families would jointly organize the cooking of the rice, pounding, and the hand-shaping of the mochi. The men used special mallets to pound the mochigome (steamed rice) into a large depression carved out of a stone block. Two or three men would take turns. pounding the rice until it became sticky or paste-like. It would then be placed on a table with rice flour and the ladies would make domed shaped rice cake mochi of various sizes.

I participated in this festivity by pounding rice. It was lots of work, but I felt it was worth it when we were able to enjoy the finished rice cake.

I attended the local Baptist Christian Church and became a Christian at the age of 13. My brother and I continued to attend this church until we were no longer able to when World War II was declared.

In the summer of 1938, I was 15 years old and was offered work picking grapes for two months in the city of Arvin, near Bakersfield. It was the Kawasaki Farm. I worked side by side with other Japanese farm workers twice my age and older. It was the hardest I had ever worked in my life. Each day, I learned to become better in picking and boxing grapes in the hot sun. I was really glad when summer ended and got back to Terminal Island.

We had kendo and judo in our community. At the suggestion of my father, I took judo classes twice a week. Several months later, I went to an Open House at San Pedro High School, the school where I would be attending the next year. There were gymnasts working out in the gym. I noticed a gymnast doing a handstand on the parallel bars. I had never seen this before and it impressed me so much that I vowed to work on a handstand every day during gym class so that by the time I got to high school I would be able to perform that same skill.

End of Part One. Stay tuned for Part Two.

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by guest authors: Lois McKinney & Granddaughter Kassie Hill

She read me stories every night;
We said our prayers and she turned out the light.

When I was a child, I heard many things:
The sound of the flapping of a fairy’s wings;
The sound of laughter from a baby’s delight;
The sound of mockingbirds warbling at night.

But now that I’m grown, no sound can compare
To the creaking sound of that old rockin’ chair.

Rock me, Granny
Rock, rock, rock

Rock me, Granny
Please don’t stop

Rock me, Granny
With a rockin’ beat

Rock me, Granny
Rock me to sleep

I sat on her lap as she held me tight
When Granny rocked me to sleep at night.

Rock, rock, rock
Rockin’ Granny

Rock, rock, rock
Rockin’ Granny

Rock, rock, rock
Rockin’ Granny

Rock me, Granny
Rock me to sleep

When I grew old, I had my own grandkids.
I’d rock them and see their drooping eyelids.
I’d tell each one “The sandman’s coming, my dear;
Just close your eyes and he’ll soon be here.”
And, sure enough, the sandman came,
And when he got here, he’d call me by name:

Hey, Rockin’ Granny
Rock, rock, rock

Hey, Rockin’ Granny,
Please don’t stop

Rockin’ Granny
With a rockin’ beat

Rockin’ Granny,
Rock them to sleep

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