…it was Colorado that extended a branch that would save us from the destructive current that had carried us into a concentration camp.
Who ever thought that a raging current could come to our quiet little town of Penryn, California, and sweep us all away?
I was born in Sacramento, California in 1932. I am sansei (third generation) on my father’s side, as he was born in Hawaii; but I am nisei (second generation) on my mother’s side because she was born in Japan. When I was born, our family had a grocery store called Yamada Grocery in Penryn, a small community about 28 miles northeast of Sacramento.
Penryn had once been the site of a granite quarry, but by the time my family settled there, the main industry was fruits: peaches, plums, pears and cherries. There was a small Japantown along Penryn Road, with not only several Japanese-owned stores, but also a Buddhist church.
In May 1942 the War came to Penryn: our family, along with all other Japanese-American families from our and other surrounding communities, was taken to Marysville Assembly Center, also called Arboga. It was not a pleasant place—smelly and full of mosquitos. I remember the long lines and the people getting registered with name tags and getting vaccinated. Thank goodness we were not there long.
In June we were transferred to Tule Lake. Never had I seen so many barracks of black tar paper buildings! There was an armed surveillance guard in the tall tower, overlooking all of the barracks, enclosed by a barbed wire fence. Each family was assigned a small living quarter consisting of cots for beds and blankets and few other necessities.
As we settled into camp life, my parents signed my sister Florence and me up to learn Japanese dance (odori) from a well recommended instructor, Doris Abey*. After many lessons, all of her students performed Japanese dance, some as a group, some of us individually in front of a large audience. I’m sure the audience appreciated any kind of entertainment. Meanwhile, my older brother Bill never seemed to be at a loss to keep busy. He loved to go hiking, hunting or playing baseball with his friends.
In September 1943 we were transferred to Topaz, Utah to make room for prisoners from other camps who were being transferred into Tule Lake after answering “no-no” on the so-called loyalty questionnaire.
Topaz was very cold and windy compared to sunny and warm California. My father always looked for things to keep us occupied. One was making us an ice-skating rink (pond) behind our building. It was cold enough to freeze. Our ice skates were ordered by mail from Sears Roebuck’s.
Also, I’d had to give up piano when we were put in camp. My father knew how much I wanted to learn to play the piano, so he took a piece of wood and painted a keyboard on it so I could practice.
My mother loved to sew, so she enrolled in a sewing class. She made my sister and me two-piece plaid outfits—a vest and skirt. The fabric was ordered through Sears.
My Uncles Jack and Frank Suzuki (my mother’s younger brothers) left camp to serve in the Military Intelligence Service (MIS). I remember seeing the Gold Star flags in the barrack windows of parents who lost sons in WWII; but we were fortunate in that both uncles returned safely from the War and attended university through the GI Bill.
In March 1944 my parents decided to look for opportunities outside of camp. Leaving us with our Suzuki grandparents, they went first to Kansas City, Missouri.
But it was Colorado that extended a branch that would save us from the destructive current that had carried us into a concentration camp. More specifically, it was the Governor of Colorado, Ralph Carr, son of a miner, who had stood alone in publicly welcoming Japanese Americans to resettle in his state1. By May my parents were in Denver.
They purchased a grocery store and named it “Frank’s Market.” They also bought a home right across the street from the grocery store.
At that time the minister of the Denver Buddhist Church was Rev. Yoshitaka Tamai4, an almost Gandhi-like figure in the local community; he was often called “the living Buddha.” He worked tirelessly to improve the lives of young people in the community, which had been hard hit by the Depression. He would travel far and wide, conducting services and establishing temples.
On one of these trips, at my parents’ request, he collected me from Topaz and brought me to Denver to rejoin my parents. My siblings, Florence and Bill, followed a month later.
After the War, my parents decided not to return to Penryn. They wanted to start a new life in Colorado. They sometimes expressed regrets and sadness for what we went through, losing our California home and business, and being incarcerated. But two good men helped us find sanctuary in a new place. My parents always reminded us “shikata ga nai,” meaning we have to do our best to make the most of our situation, and not look back but to look ahead.
Looking back, I have many mixed feelings about the experience of being incarcerated in a concentration camp. I was 13 years old when WWII ended. I was confused about who I was: I was a citizen of the United States of America but treated like an alien. I am sorry to say racial discrimination still exists today.
Notes:
* Doris Abey’s professional name was Sahomi Tachibana.
1 (From Wikipedia) [Ralph] Carr took a unique position among Western governors, who largely adopted the popular anti-Japanese sentiment of the period. The governors supported internment of all Japanese, whatever their citizenship, and also objected to locating internment camps in their states. Carr, on the other hand, opposed interning American citizens, depriving them of their basic rights as citizens based only on their racial background or the citizenship of their ancestors. Unlike his peers, Carr agreed that Colorado should accept its share of the evacuees and treat them respectfully. He also underscored the broader context of war against several enemy countries in order to downplay the struggle with Japan that could easily be seen as a racial conflict. When he volunteered Colorado for housing Italian, German, and Japanese relocated from the West Coast, he said2:
“They are as loyal to American institutions as you and I. Many of them have been born here–are American citizens, with no connection or feeling of loyalty toward the customs and philosophies of Italy, Germany and Japan. … I am not talking on behalf of Japanese, of Italians, or of Germans as such when I say this. I am talking to … all American people whether their status be white, brown or black and regardless of the birthplaces of their grandfathers when I say that if a majority may deprive a minority of its freedom, contrary to the terms of the Constitution today, then you as a minority may be subjected to the same ill-will of the majority tomorrow.”
In one speech to a large and hostile audience, made up primarily of worried Colorado farmers, Carr said of the evacuees:
“They are not going to take over the vegetable business of this state, and they are not going to take over the Arkansas Valley. But the Japanese are protected by the same Constitution that protects us. An American citizen of Japanese descent has the same rights as any other citizen. … If you harm them, you must first harm me. I was brought up in small towns where I knew the shame and dishonor of race hatred. I grew to despise it because it threatened [pointing to various audience members] the happiness of you and you and you.” 3
Carr’s advocacy for racial tolerance and for protection of the constitutional rights of the Japanese Americans are generally thought to have cost him his political career. He narrowly lost the 1942 Senate election to incumbent Democratic Senator Edwin C. Johnson, who in 1942 had advocated using the National Guard to prevent Japanese Americans from entering Colorado and charged that Carr was more interested in exploiting Japanese labor than protecting civil liberties.2 Click here to learn more about Governor Carr.
2 Wei, William (2016). Asians in Colorado: A History of Persecution and Perseverance in the Centennial State. University of Washington Press. pp. 208–9. ISBN 9780295806365. Retrieved February 25, 2017.
3 Schrager, Adam. The Principled Politician: The Ralph Carr Story. Fulcrum Publishing; Golden, Colorado; 2008. Chapter 10: “Late March 1942,” p. 193.
4 Click here to learn more about Rev. Yoshitaka Tamai.
About the contributor: Doris Yagi was born in 1932 in Sacramento, CA, and was incarcerated with her family at Marysville Assembly Center, Tule Lake, and Topaz. She graduated from Manual High School in Denver, CO and attended the University of Denver, studying music. She and her late husband Donald raised four children in suburban Denver, where she still resides today.
Copyright 2023, Doris Yamada Yagi.
I learn so much from these weekly posts. Especially, the importance of family and honor.