by Yae Wada, as told to Ruth Sasaki
“…most graduates… received their diplomas by mail. ‘I opened the stall door, and there it was, just dumped on the ground…'”
I was 23 when I was in Tanforan Assembly Center. My school friend from Oakland, Goro Suzuki (most people would remember him as Jack Soo, the actor) was also in Tanforan. I knew his mother first; she taught me and other Nisei (second-generation) girls how to sew. I met Goro when I got called out of a gym class to be his partner in his dance class because he was not allowed to dance with white girls.
Even in camp, Goro liked to entertain and was a terrific singer. He worried about the younger people in camp, and he always tried to think of ways to keep up their morale so that they wouldn’t become angry and get into trouble.
One thing we noticed was how sad the high school seniors were about missing their graduations. They were supposed to graduate in June 1942, but most of us were taken away and locked up in April or May of that year. Goro talked to our mess-hall cook and asked him if he could bake a cake or something to celebrate the graduation, but the cook refused, saying that he couldn’t make a cake for just a few people; if you did it for one, you would have to do it for all.
When the time came, some schools sent representatives to hand out diplomas in person. They would come on visiting day, and sections of the grandstand would be designated for different schools. There was no ceremony or anything—just handing out diplomas.
One senior complained that he didn’t even get his diploma then because the school representative couldn’t pronounce his name, so he didn’t realize he was being called.
But most graduates, like my friend Emi Yamada Ota, who was graduating from an East-Bay high school, remembers that no one came from their school. They received their diplomas by mail. “I opened the stall door, and there it was, just dumped on the ground,” she remembers.
What people remember about the so-called graduation in the grandstand was how quiet it was. It was so depressing—that is, until the San Mateo High School band showed up with their principal, Mr. W. T. Van Voris. Suddenly, everyone was talking in excitement, laughing. Even kids whose high schools were not represented felt that, at last, their day was being celebrated.
That San Mateo High School band? Someone should thank them.
About the contributor: Yae Wada grew up in Berkeley and Oakland, CA and operated a beauty salon before the war. She was 23 when she was incarcerated in Tanforan. From Topaz, she and her husband resettled in Cleveland. Yae returned to the East Bay after the War. In March 2019, Yae attended San Mateo High School’s Day of Remembrance to express gratitude for an act of kindness by its war-time faculty and band members.
In 2019, Yae was interviewed as part of an article on the Topaz Stories Exhibit at J-Sei in Emeryville, CA. You can read the article here. Yae passed away in 2023 at the age of 103.
Copyright 2018, Yae Wada. All rights reserved.