Chevron Allows Supervisor to Harass Employee with ‘Stupid Jap’ Slur

http://foundasian.org/2010/02/chevron-allows-supervisor-to-harass-employee-with-stupid-jap-slur/

February 21, 2010 | In: community, law, people

The text of this post is from a press release issued by attorney John Ota and forwarded to me by Richard Wada. I reprint it here in full with only minor style changes. – Keith

Chevron Corporation’s multi-million dollar “Human Energy” advertising campaign touts how much Chevron values people. Chevron’s website promotes the “Chevron Way” – the company’s commitment to complying with the law and placing “the highest priority on the health and safety of our workforce.”

The reality for John Suzuki, who worked at Chevron for over 35 years, was much different. An award-winning patent liaison in Chevron’s Law Department in Richmond, Calif., Suzuki was forced to take early retirement this month rather than risk his health by returning to work under a supervisor who harassed and threatened him, and called him a “stupid Jap.”

Suzuki wanted to continue working at Chevron, but the company refused his doctors’ directives that he must be moved to a different department or else he would be at high risk of having a heart attack.

“Stupid Jap” Slur

The doctors had diagnosed Suzuki as being at high risk of another heart attack after he had at least two episodes of severe chest pains following incidents in which his supervisor, Alan Klaassen harassed him by yelling at him, making false accusations and threatening him.

After one such incident in January 2008, Suzuki went to his doctor, who told him that he had to reduce his workload or else he might have a heart attack. When Suzuki told Klaassen and a manager, Frank Turner, what his doctor said, Klaassen and Turner laughed at Suzuki.

Things came to a head in August 2009 when Klaassen again yelled at Suzuki, waved his fist in his face, threatened him and falsely blamed him for problems in the work. Klaassen also called Suzuki a “stupid Jap.”

Use of racial slurs by supervisors on the job violates federal and state anti-discrimination laws and laws prohibiting hostile and abusive work environments. As one federal appeals court noted in 1993, “Perhaps no single act can more quickly ‘alter the conditions of employment and create an abusive working environment’ . . . than the use of an [unambiguous] racial epithet . . . by a supervisor….”

Following the August 2009 incident, Suzuki again suffered severe chest pains. His doctors put him on medical leave and have been treating him since then. They told Chevron that he could return to work only when he was taken out of his hostile work environment and moved to a different department.

Chevron categorically refused to consider moving Suzuki to a different department. If Suzuki did not return to his department and his supervisor Klaassen, he faced termination, Chevron told him.

Suzuki got an attorney, John Ota of Alameda, Calif., who pointed out to Chevron that under California law, the company must separate Suzuki from Klaassen, at the very least until Chevron did a fair and thorough investigation of Suzuki’s charges that Klaassen had insulted him with a racial epithet and otherwise created a hostile work environment.

Investigation or Cover-up?

Demanding that Suzuki return to work under Klaassen before Chevron had even investigated the matter assumed that Klaassen would be cleared, Ota noted, an indication that Chevron had no intention of conducting a fair and objective investigation as required by law.

Chevron refused to budge. Faced with termination and the possible resulting loss of his retirement benefits, Suzuki reluctantly chose early retirement on February 1.

Meanwhile, Japanese American and Asian American organizations, disturbed about Suzuki’s situation, began contacting Chevron to express their concerns.

Richard Konda, Executive Director of Asian Law Alliance in San Jose wrote Chevron on January 12, stating that it was “highly inappropriate and insensitive” for Chevron to demand that Suzuki return to work under Klaassen before completing its investigation.

Patty Wada, Regional Director of the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) Northern California-Western Nevada-Pacific District, said in a January 22 letter that she was appalled to hear that Suzuki had been subjected to racial slurs by his supervisor.

Under pressure, Chevron hired an outside Japanese American attorney, Susan Kumagai, to investigate Suzuki’s charges. On her website, Kumagai describes herself as a specialist in “representing management” against discrimination charges.

Suzuki asked Kumagai and Chevron how many such investigations Kumagai had done in the past and in how many of those investigations, if any, she had concluded that a hostile work environment existed. Neither Kumagai nor Chevron responded to these questions.

Not surprisingly, Kumagai conducted a quick investigation and concluded that none of Suzuki’s charges could be substantiated. Chevron informed Suzuki of these results on February 16, but refused to provide him with a copy of Kumagai’s report.

In her hasty effort, Kumagai failed to even talk to some witnesses Suzuki said could confirm that he told them about Klaassen’s racial slur soon after it happened. Because in this, as in many other harassment cases, there were no witnesses to the actual harassment, such corroborating witnesses are often crucial to verifying the victim’s account of what happened.

The failure to interview corroborating witnesses, hiring as the investigator an attorney who defends management for a living, and Chevron’s refusal to provide Suzuki with a copy of the investigation report – these are all “signs pointing to a cover-up,” not a fair and objective investigation, says Ota.

Letter Writing Efforts

Suzuki is continuing to ask organizations to write Chevron on his behalf. What is important to him, he says, is “the principle of the matter – racial remarks like this cannot be tolerated.”

The points he wants organizations to make in their letters to Chevron are first, that Chevron conduct a fair and thorough investigation of his charges, an investigation by someone who has a history of doing evenhanded investigations, not by a management defense attorney.

Second, Suzuki wants Chevron to provide him with Kumagai’s investigation report, and also to provide the report when a fair and thorough investigation is completed.

Last, Suzuki asks that Chevron fire Klaassen if it finds that Klaassen did call Suzuki a “stupid Jap” and that Suzuki be allowed to return to work at Chevron in a different department.

Leaders of Nikkei for Civil Rights and Redress (NCRR) in Los Angeles wrote to Chevron on February 10. Paul Osaki, Executive Director of the Japanese Community and Cultural Center of Northern California sent Chevron a letter on February 19.

Other organizations in Los Angeles, San Jose and San Francisco have also agreed to write to Chevron.

Those interested in contacting Chevron should write to: John S. Watson, Chief Executive Officer, Chevron Corp., 6001 Bollinger Canyon Road, San Ramon, CA 94583.

" Hello, I'm-Japanese."

" Hello, I'm-Japanese."

Scott Fujita is helping to bring the Saints back to life. And
that's the least surprising thing about him
by David Fleming


It's odd at first.


When you push open the massive mahogany door of Scott Fujita's
warehouse-style loft in New Orleans, there's a Mardi Gras-style
balcony up front and an exposed wall of burned-black bricks
near the back. Yet despite how much Fujita says his Japanese
heritage means to him, there's no Asian-influenced decor
anywhere to be seen. Then he leads you around a corner to his
den. And there, sitting on a white metal computer desk (next to
Barack Obama's new book) is a stunning blue ceramic recreation
of The Great Wave Off Kanagawa.


Admiring the piece as he moves, Fujita seems too tall and fluid
to be a linebacker. Then he sits down, and his desk—now in the
visual frame with his massive shoulders, back and
forearms—suddenly looks like a TV tray. Fujita begins opening
files on his computer, and with each click he reveals the most
cherished artifacts of his remarkable journey, from adopted
child to college walk-on to discarded draft pick to centerpiece
of the resurgent Saints defense.


He opens a picture of his parents, reaches out to touch their
faces on the screen. Given up by his birth mother when he was 6
weeks old, Scott was adopted by Helen and Rod Fujita and raised
in Camarillo, Calif. Helen, a retired secretary, is white. Rod,
a retired high school teacher and coach, is a third generation
Japanese-American. He was born inside an Arizona internment
camp during World War II.


Fujita opens more photos. There's one of him holding hands with
his wife and college sweetheart, Jaclyn, on Senior Day at Cal;
this was a few months before the Chiefs took him in the fifth
round of the 2002 draft. There's another one of him playing Pee
Wee football, the chubby-cheeked, blond-haired, green-eyed kid
with the Japanese name on his jersey. There's another of his
paternal grandmother, Lillie, who once overheard him
introducing himself like this: "Hi! I'm Scott. I'm 4. And I'm
Japanese."


"I swear I'm not delusional," Fujita says, chuckling at the
memory. "I know I don't have a drop of Japanese blood in me.
But what is race? It's just a label. The way you're raised,
your family, the people you love—that means more than
everything else."


Many adopted kids grapple to come to terms with who they are
and where they came from, especially those raised by parents
who don't look like them. But Fujita says he doesn't struggle
with his identity, never has. First as a child and now as a
football player, his path to success has always been about the
same thing: defining for himself who he is. "That's the
connection point for Scott," Lillie says. "You choose to be
what you are. It's not your location, your obstacles or your
skin. You. You choose. He learned that from his family."


Not that he wasn't tested. When his parents took him and older
brother, Jason, who was also adopted, to stores, they got the
occasional odd looks. Sometimes Scott had to show his ID to
substitute teachers who didn't believe that his last name
belonged to him. And he ate so much rice with chopsticks that
he was 8 before he knew what to do with a baked potato. But he
shrugged off most of it, confident in thinking of himself as
half Japanese at heart. To his dad, it was even simpler:
"American, Japanese. To me he's always just been my son."


Every Jan. 1, the Fujitas celebrated Shogatsu, Japanese New
Year's. Every May 5, Rod would raise a koi flag on a bamboo
pole in the backyard in honor of the Japanese national holiday
of Kodomo-no-hi (Children's Day). But because Rod had become,
as he says, "Americanized," most of Scott's knowledge of
Japanese culture came from Lillie and Nagao, Scott's
grandfather.


The two were extremely strict with Rod when he was a kid, but
they spoiled their grandchildren. Nagao often showed up
unannounced at school to take Scott and Jason out for ice cream
and to go toy shopping. During these field trips, Scott would
sit in the backseat of Nagao's car, gazing at the California
coast while listening to tales of great samurai warriors,
Japanese art and history, and majestic places like Mount Fuji.
"When you've never met a single blood relative in your life,"
Scott says, "the idea of ethnicity and blood relations takes on
a different meaning. I found a very beautiful and interesting
culture filled with dignity, respect and honor, and it became
mine."


He also connected to his ancestors through his anger about, and
empathy for, Japanese-American residents who were interned
during World War II. His grandparents had a wrenching story to
tell. In 1941, Lillie and Nagao were students at Cal, planning
to get married. A few days after the Japanese attack on Pearl
Harbor, Lillie was crossing the street in Berkeley when another
female student ran up to her, screaming in her face, "You
little Jap, why don't you go back home!?" Lillie is a tiny,
demure woman. At his wedding reception, Scott got down on his
knees to dance with his grandma, only to discover he was still
too tall. But that day in 1941, she roared back: "I'm an
American too. And a better one than you are!"


Two months later, Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order
9066: the forcible evacuation of 120,000 American residents of
Japanese descent to 10 internment camps. To avoid being
separated, Nagao and Lillie married before the order was
carried out. Shortly after, they were forced, along with their
families, to relocate to an Army barracks in Gila River, Ariz.
Unable to pay their mortgage, Nagao's parents lost their
farmland in Ventura County.


The government did allow Nagao to leave camp and return to
college, but only at a school it approved: BYU. Lillie had to
stay behind. Amazingly, after Nagao graduated, he enlisted to
fight for the very country that was imprisoning his family.
Deployed to Italy, he fought with the all-Japanese 442nd
Regimental Combat Team, one of the most decorated battalions of
the war. While Nagao was overseas in 1943, Lillie gave birth to
Rod at the camp.


On Jan. 2, 1945, FDR revoked his executive order; the last camp
closed in early 1946. Nagao attended law school at Cal on the
GI Bill, then moved with Lillie and Rod back to Oxnard, where
he became one of the first bilingual attorneys in Southern
California. He died in 1988. A year later, Lillie received a
reparations check for $20,000 and a written apology from
then-president George Bush. The letter, which Scott keeps on
the computer in his den, says in part: "Your fellow Americans
have, in a very real sense, renewed their traditional
commitment to the ideals of freedom, equality and justice."
Even now, Scott gets angry when he mentions how Japanese
internment was never brought up in school. His desktop is full
of research on the topic, including photos of the camps and
government documents.


Given the depth of his feelings, it makes sense that Fujita has
adopted the ideals of perseverance that sustained his
grandparents. As a high school freshman in 1994, he was his
father's height: 5'6". Over the next three years, he shot up to
6'4" and became a star safety for Rio Mesa High. But lacking
mass, he drew meager attention from major D1 schools, and Cal
offered him a shot to walk on only a few months before his
graduation.


Fujita redshirted his freshman year, but not before blowing
away coaches in his first camp by helping out the
injury-plagued Bears at safety even though both of his hands
were clubbed up with tape—one because it was broken, the other
because of a nasty gash. The Bears gave him a scholarship the
next spring, and he added 20 pounds to his 6'5" frame while
switching from safety to linebacker. But as a sophomore in
1999, he was plagued by nerve stingers in his neck. Following
the season, he had career-threatening surgery that put him in
the ICU for three days and a neck halo for a week. That was
March. By August, he was cracking skulls again in live practice
drills. Two seasons later, he was among Cal's leading tacklers.
"I call it Pat Tillman syndrome," says former Cal defensive
coordinator Lyle Setencich, now at Texas Tech. "There are a few
players you come across who give their heart and soul to the
game. That's Pat Tillman, and that's Scott Fujita."


In Kansas City, Fujita's relentless play led his teammates to
name him the Chiefs' best rookie of 2002, and he topped the
team in tackles in 2003 and 2004. At times, though, he suffered
from "walk-on disease." Fearing the next bad play might be his
last, he stressed and pressed, not realizing that often the
only difference between good and great linebackers is just a
stutter step—the split-second difference between thinking
through a play and reacting on instinct. "I used to be the guy
running around, banging his head on the walls before a game,"
Fujita says. "Not anymore. Sometimes success is more about
relaxing and getting comfortable."


And finding the right fit. After making over their linebacker
corps, the Chiefs traded Fujita to Dallas five days before the
2005 season. He started the final eight games for the Cowboys
and made enough plays to draw interest, as an unrestricted free
agent, from Dallas, Jacksonville, Philadelphia and Oakland. His
first trip, though, was to New Orleans, where former Cowboys
assistant Sean Payton had just been hired as head coach.


The first time Fujita met with Payton in his office at the
team's practice facility (which had been used as a national
command center during Katrina), he was struck by how Payton had
embraced the Saints' role as sports savior of New Orleans.
Sappy or not, Fujita wanted to buy in, if only because he
thought that embodying something bigger than the game would
bring out his best as a player. "The hurricane, my family's
internment, issues of race—I feel like all that is a part of me
when I play."


Shortly after his sit-down with Payton, Fujita and Jaclyn were
enjoying dinner at Emeril's when Saints GM Mickey Loomis called
to thank him for visiting. "I'm ready to sign," Fujita blurted.
Ten minutes later, Loomis raced in with a contract in his
hands. Fujita got a four-year, $12 million deal for dessert,
and the Saints got a key piece for their rebuilt defense
without breaking the bank.


On Sept. 25, during the grand reopening of the Superdome on
Monday Night Football, Saints defensive back Mike McKenzie
introduced Fujita to a national TV audience by calling him "the
Asian Assassin." On the very next play, Fujita erupted through
a crack in the Falcons line and sacked a thoroughly shocked
Mike Vick, forcing a fumble and a fourth down. Fujita
celebrated with a fist-in palm samurai bow (a move now being
mimicked on high school football fields in New Orleans). The
Saints then blocked the Falcons' punt and recovered it in the
end zone to begin the 23-3 romp.


By the time the Saints reached their Week 7 bye, coming off
gritty wins over Tampa and Philly, they had morphed from
Katrina recovery mascots to contenders. Most of the hype has
centered around the backfield of Drew Brees, Deuce McAllister
and Reggie Bush, but the real credit belongs to the
Fujita-fueled defense that ranked fourth in the NFC through
Week 8. Playing behind a dominant, attacking front four, Fujita
is often left unblocked, free to shoot run gaps, roam the deep
middle and wreak havoc 80 feet in either direction. He has
prototypical size, strength and speed, but it's his
lightning-fast presnap recognition that keeps him one step
ahead of opponents and all over the stat sheet—a team-high 55
tackles and two picks, plus 2.5 sacks, a forced fumble and five
passes defensed. "In the huddle," McKenzie says, "he looks like
a missile ready to launch. He's everywhere out there."


Lest anyone want to dismiss Fujita as an overblown do-gooder,
note his $7,500 bill for a low hit away from the action on
Carolina's Steve Smith in Week 4. Or the red, swollen cleat
scars up and down his shins, courtesy of illegal leg whips by
blockers—the ultimate sign of respect in the trenches.


Halfway through the Saints' bye week, in fact, Fujita's shins
are still so swollen and discolored that he has to gimp the
last few blocks home from his favorite sushi joint, Rock-n-Sake
(home of the Mt. Fujita Roll). When he gets home, there are
half a dozen UPS boxes full of Pottery Barn picture frames
waiting for him. One of the candidates for the new frames is a
photo of the banner that Fujita's neighbors made for him after
the Eagles game. Spread out across his parking space, the sign
reads: McNabb Got FUJITA'ED.


It was a nice gesture, and it's a decent enough photo, but the
universal truth behind the message is what makes Fujita eager
to frame it: the idea that no matter where you're from or how
you were raised, no matter what you look like or who you play
for, when fans turn your name into a verb, well, you've arrived.

Ken Mochizuki – Be Water, My Friend

By Susan Osa
3 Feb 2010

Award-winning author Ken Mochizuki has always been fascinated by storytelling. Born in Seattle, Washington, he grew up in the Beacon Hill area of south Seattle. While attending the University of Washington, he became active in the Asian American movement, working on Seattle’s first Asian American newspaper, Asian Family Affair. After graduating with a degree in communications, he worked as an actor for five years in Los Angeles, including time with the East/West Players, the oldest Asian American theater company in the country.

With his downtime from acting, he spent a lot of time reading, which would set him on the course to becoming a writer. “In college, I had heard a lot about the rediscovered novel, No-No Boy, regarded as the greatest work by an Asian American author,” says Mochizuki. “When I reached the last page, I was blown away, not only from the power of the words, but also the power of his truth that Seattle author John Okada dared to portray Japanese Americans in a realistic and often unflattering way,” he continues. “More importantly, his one and only novel told me that we can write our own stories, that we can write our own versions of ourselves.”

To hone his new craft, Mochizuki returned to Seattle, and spent 10 years as a newspaper writer/reporter, which helped him develop the skills to write books for young readers.

Early on, Mochizuki aspired to write adult novels, but a classic case of serendipity steered him toward writing children’s books. “I received a phone call from Philip Lee in New York, whose wife, Karen Chinn, I knew from Seattle. He had started the children’s picture book company, Lee & Low Books, and was searching the country for authors and illustrators for its first published books,” recalls Mochizuki. “I had never written anything for children or young adults, but then Phillip suggested the topic that became my first picture book, Baseball Saved Us.” The critical and commercial success of this booked launched a 16+ year career for Mochizuki.

Since his first picture book, he has authored Heroes, and Passage to Freedom: The Sugihara Story, and most recently, Be Water, My Friend: The Early Years of Bruce Lee. As an author, the Asian-American experience has been a recurring theme in Mochizuki’s work, influenced from his own personal history. “I have been the recipient of stereotypes about Asians most of my life, so that has had a major impact on the career paths that I have chosen and what I did within those careers,” says Mochizuki. “As a writer of books for young readers, my life’s work has involved making the American experiences of those of Asian descent known, which is especially important for young readers as they are forming perceptions of others, and to not rely on stereotypes” he continues. “Hopefully, readers will come away with something they hadn’t known or realized before, and gain traction with a positive theme such as “attitude determines altitude” (from Baseball Saved Us), the “importance of passing down a family legacy” (from Heroes), or “might is not always right” (from Be Water, My Friend).”

Mochizuki’s most recent picture book, Be Water, My Friend, is a gentle tribute to martial arts legend Bruce Lee, following Lee from his birth in San Francisco through his youth in Hong Kong. Lee’s family life, impatience with school, and legal troubles are touched upon, as is his growing passion for martial arts. “When I first contemplated writing a biography of Bruce Lee, I wasn’t sure why I should,” says Mochizuki. “But, when I toured an exhibit in Seattle [which was based on a collector’s collection of Bruce Lee memorabilia], I learned how he had his own personal library of 2,500 books as an adult, and how he developed and followed his own personal philosophies, these were revelations,” he continues. “When I saw a photo of Bruce Lee sitting on the floor reading a book in front of the shelves of his library, I knew I wanted to do this book. Readers needed to know this side of Bruce Lee,” says Mochizuki.

Mochizuki hopes readers of Be Water, My Friend see more than just the super-human fighting machine seen on the big screen from his book. “I hope readers, especially guys, will think about this: if you call your peer who wears glasses a nerd, if you think reading is boring, or a waste of time, if you think you don’t have to take school seriously, and won’t live to regret it – remember Bruce Lee, often considered the man of men, the most macho of men, was and did all these things, and much, much more.”

* Excerpts from this interview were referenced from “Book Talk with Ken Mochizuki” (leeandlow.com), “Interview with Ken Mochizuki” (mawbooks.com), and the author’s website.

© 2010 Japanese American National Museum

Angel Island, landmark of U.S. diversity

Japanese women arrive at Angel Island early last century. Some 70,000 Japanese were detained there.
Photo: Courtesy / CA State Parks Collection


Carl Nolte, Chronicle Staff Writer

Thursday, January 21, 2010

More... Today is the 100th anniversary of the U.S. immigration station on Angel Island - a place of hope and despair, and a landmark symbolizing the rich history of immigration in this country.

The anniversary will be noted by looking both back and forward, by recalling the complex history of the immigration station and with a 10 a.m. ceremony at the San Francisco Civic Center naturalizing 100 citizens from 44 countries.

Today's commemoration is fitting, because the immigration station on the island was designed to admit new immigrants and to keep others - mainly Chinese and other Asians - out.

There will be talks by old men and women who became Americans only after an ordeal on the island, and there will be a proud moment when 100 younger men and women take an oath to become the country's newest citizens.

"Angel Island is a symbol of both inclusion and exclusion," said Judy Yung, a retired professor of American studies who is writing a book on the immigration station.

"It's a story of persistence to overcome obstacles to becoming part of this country," said Eddie Wong, executive director of the Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation. "It is the classic American immigrant story."

The Asian gateway
More than 500,000 people passed through Angel Island between 1910 and 1940, about a third of them Asian. It was the Asian gateway to the United States - the Ellis Island of the West. Now, many generations later, the several million people who are their descendants have left their mark on this country.

"It is an important part of our story," Yung said.

It is also a story of institutionalized racism. For 61 years, until they were repealed in 1943, federal laws, notably the Chinese Exclusion Act, greatly limited Asian immigration to the United States.

The laws were enforced at the immigration station on Angel Island, a bucolic and beautiful place where thousands of Chinese and other immigrants were detained - sometimes for as long as a year - while immigration officers determined whether they could be admitted into the country.

The laws were particularly tough on Chinese immigrants, allowing only certain classes of them to be admitted - scholars, clergy, merchants and the children of American citizens among them. They were intended to make sure that working Chinese men and women would be kept out. Over 100,000 Asians were admitted despite the restrictions.

Competition unwanted
It was part of an anti-Asian immigrant movement that swept the Pacific Coast in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Stirred up by fears of economic competition from Asian workers, politicians and the news media warned of a "Yellow Peril." James D. Phelan, a former mayor of San Francisco, ran a successful campaign for the U.S. Senate by promising to "Keep California White." For years, the 1882 exclusion acts were renewed and expanded so that most Asian immigrants were affected.

As a result, about 100,000 Chinese were detained for questioning on Angel Island. About 70,000 Japanese were held there for varying periods, Yung said. About 8,000 South Asians, mostly from India, were stopped at the island. Roughly half of the Indians were refused admission.

It wasn't just Asians who had problems with immigration officials on Angel Island. Roughly 7,000 Russians passed through the station, most of them stateless political refugees who had fled Russia after the Bolshevik revolution and who had headed to the United States through Manchuria and China. They had to prove they were not criminals or likely to be deadbeats.

The island's history
The immigration station was closed after a fire in 1940. Angel Island is now a state park, and the immigration station buildings have been restored. Many of them have poems written on the walls by immigrants kept there.

The Angel Island station got its start when the government decided to replace facilities on the San Francisco waterfront used to screen passengers arriving from Asia.

In those days, most white and first-class ship passengers were allowed into the country after a cursory examination by immigration officers, but Chinese and other Asian passengers traveling steerage class were kept aboard idle ships or in a building at First and Brannan streets called the "immigration shed." The shed was owned by the Pacific Mail Line and was located on its dock.

The government opened an immigration station on Angel Island on Jan. 21, 1910, and would-be immigrants were taken there from San Francisco by small steamers. It was like Ellis Island in New York, but with a major difference.

"Ellis Island was more of a welcoming gateway to European immigrants, and we always celebrated the immigration story of that island," Yung said. "But the majority of people coming from Asia were not welcomed."

'Paper sons'
Some of the people who passed through Angel Island had false papers, claiming in many cases to be sons and daughters of Chinese American citizens, a ticket for admission under the era's restrictive laws. These so-called "paper sons" had spent considerable time studying the background of their supposed ancestors, and the job of the immigration officers was to ferret out these "paper sons" through extensive interrogation sessions. If they were caught, they were shipped back to China; if they succeeded they were admitted to the America they could see shimmering across the bay.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of immigrants got through the process using false papers. "Once they were admitted, they worked to raise families and be successful and make a contribution to our country," Yung said.

The experience has left a unique legacy in many Chinese American families. Yung's own family was one of them. "I'm a descendant of a paper son," she said.

When immigration laws were relaxed in the 1950s and '60s, the government offered amnesty to people who had used false papers. Many accepted, "but there are many more paper sons and daughters who did not confess," said Yung. Many of them, she said, did not trust the U.S. government, particularly in the era before the United States normalized relations with what many conservatives called "Red China."

Today's centennial ceremony will include presentation of the Outstanding American by Choice award from the Citizenship and Immigration Services to Dr. Samuel So, a professor at the Stanford School of Medicine and an expert on hepatitis and liver cancer. So was born in Hong Kong and became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1998.

Immigrant gateways to America
Ellis Island


The first federal immigration station, an island in New York Harbor, opened Jan. 1, 1892, and closed in 1954.

Approximately 12 million immigrants were processed there, most of them Europeans. Most were detained for two to three hours and treated courteously. About 40 percent of all Americans can trace at least one ancestor who was processed at Ellis Island.

Source: National Park Service

Angel Island


The first West Coast immigration station, an island in San Francisco Bay, opened Jan. 21, 1910, and closed after a fire in 1940.

Approximately 500,000 immigrants went through Angel Island; 300,000 of them were detained. Of these, more than 100,000 were Chinese. Detention ranged from overnight to a few who were held for a more than a year.

Source: California State Park Service, Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation

E-mail Carl Nolte at cnolte@sfchronicle.com.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/01/21/MN231BKGQH.DTL

TAKING A STAND: Block 42

Posted By ngunji On December 16, 2009 @ 4:58 pm In Community, English | No Comments
While barbed wire was meant to cage the Issei and Nisei men and women, it could not suppress their spirit. Of the 3,254 eligible inmates who did not register for the questionnaire, 3,218 of them, including the Tanimoto brothers, came from Tule Lake. (By MARIO G. REYES/Rafu Shimpo) [1]

While barbed wire was meant to cage the Issei and Nisei men and women, it could not suppress their spirit. Of the 3,254 eligible inmates who did not register for the questionnaire, 3,218 of them, including the Tanimoto brothers, came from Tule Lake. (By MARIO G. REYES/Rafu Shimpo)

By Martha Nakagawa

===

(Note—Tule Lake is spelled with two words when referring to the WRA camp, but one word, “Tulelake” when referring to the city or the CCC camp.)

Before the draft resistance movement started in the 10 War Relocation Authority (WRA) camps during World War II, a different kind of protest occurred at Tule Lake.

The year was 1943. The War Department and the WRA had just issued two separate but similar loyalty questionnaires that were poorly worded. The War Department’s goal was to identify alleged “loyal” Nisei males in hopes of drafting them. The WRA’s goal was to release the alleged “loyals” from the camps. The War Department form was given to Nisei men and was titled, “Statement of United States Citizens of Japanese Ancestry,” DDS Form 304-A. Answering this form was voluntary. The WRA form was given to everyone and titled, “Application for Leave Clearance,” Form WRA-126. Answering this was compulsory.

Brothers Mamoru “Mori” and Jim Tanimoto lived in Block 42 in Tule Lake. They, separately, came to the conclusion that they were not going to answer the questionnaire.
The Tanimoto brothers returned to Tule Lake during the 2009 pilgrimage. They were among 35 Nisei who were sent to Klamath Falls jail after they answered no, no on the so-called loyalty questionnaire. (By MARTHA NAKAGAWA) [2]

The Tanimoto brothers returned to Tule Lake during the 2009 pilgrimage. They were among 35 Nisei who were sent to Klamath Falls jail after they answered no, no on the so-called loyalty questionnaire. (By MARTHA NAKAGAWA)

“My reason for not answering was because I didn’t do anything to be put into Tule Lake,” said younger brother Jim. “I never broke any laws. I was never tried for anything. I wasn’t guilty of anything. I told them send me home. Then I’ll sign your papers. I will be a ‘yes, yes.’ I will serve and do whatever I can to support the United States government because I’m an American citizen.”

Older brother Mori did not answer the questionnaire because he felt the camp in general was a violation of their constitutional rights.

Relations between the inmates and the administration rapidly deteriorated when the administration failed to adequately provide information to basic questions posed to them such as why the inmates had to register and what they were registering for.

Tensions continued to mount when the project director announced via the camp newspaper, the Tulean Dispatch, that those who interfered with registration would be fined up to $10,000 and/or imprisoned up to 20 years under the Espionage Act. The Tule Lake administration followed the announcement by making an example of Block 42, which had a high number of Nisei men refusing to register.

“They (WRA) came back time and time and time again, trying to make us sign, but we said, ‘No, we won’t sign,’” said Mori. “Then, for this, the Army came and arrested us.”

Younger brother Jim continued Mori’s thoughts. “After we refused to answer, then one evening a bunch of soldiers, carrying rifles and bayonets, surrounded our block,” said Jim. “It was after dinner and we were coming out of the mess hall. One soldier sorted us into groups. Once the mess hall was empty, he said, ‘Okay, you guys count off one, two, one two.’”

About 35 Nisei men from Block 42 were rounded up on the evening of Feb. 21, 1943. The Tanimoto brothers’ group was sent to the Klamath Falls jail and the second group ended up at the Alturas jail. Both groups were held in jail for about seven days with no charges, no hearing or trial.

Meanwhile, Tule Lake became a bedlam of activity. The public arrest of the Block 42 men terrified some Tuleans into registering, while it galvanized others to become more defiant. Although the inmate-organized Planning Board and Community Council urged the Tule Lake administration to release the Block 42 men and proposed new registration procedures, the administration took a hard line and refused to compromise.

After about a week later, the two groups were reunited at an old Civilian Conservation Corp camp named Camp Tulelake, located 10 miles from the Tule Lake WRA camp.

According to Angela Sutton with the National Park Service, Camp Tulelake had been built in 1933 when President Franklin Roosevelt established various programs to lift the country out of the Great Depression.

“The purpose of the CCC camp was pretty much to boost the economy and to get men, ages 17-25, into jobs and some vocational training,” said Sutton.

“The projects that they worked on were on National Park Service, Fish and Wildlife Service and state park sites. At Camp Tulelake, their main job was to work with Fish and Wildlife, and building and creating the Klamath Reclamation water project.

“The men were paid $1 a day, which wasn’t a high wage, but it also included all the room, board, medical, education and everything else, so you wanted to be in the CCC back in those days, because others might be paying $1 a day but they didn’t include all the extras.”

Once the war broke out, most of the CCC employees signed up for the military and Camp Tulelake was closed, said Sutton. However, when the government built the Tule Lake WRA/Segregation camp nearby, Camp Tulelake was utilized to house Japanese Americans. The first Japanese American group was the Block 42 men.

“One day at the jail, they tell us they’re going to move us over to the CCC camp,” said Jim. “When we came here (to Camp Tulelake), I think the other group from Alturas arrived about the same time, so the Block 42 young men were together again. Then our truck driver says, ‘Your guards aren’t here yet so don’t run away.’ He says we should clean up the mess hall and the barracks because we’re going to use them that night so we started to do that.

“Eventually, the guards showed up. We had done quite a bit of cleaning by then. But once they showed up, everything came to a halt. We couldn’t even go to the bathroom without their permission.”

The Block 42 men were held at Camp Tulelake for about a month. During that time, the Tanimoto brothers recalled one fearful incident.

“We was sleeping one night and the soldiers come charging through the barrack,” said Jim. “They says, ‘Get your ass out of bed. Get outside!’ This is the middle of the night. When we got out there, we lined up. It was pitch black. All of a sudden, they put on flood lights. We could see that there were about eight or 10 soldiers on one side of a machine gun and 10 or so soldiers on the other side. The soldiers were loading their rifles, and we’re only about 15 yards apart. It was very close between my chest and the end of the rifle barrel. My thought at that time was that this is a firing squad. This is going to be our end.”

The incident ended with no one getting hurt, but neither of the brothers knew why they had been roused out of bed. It could be speculated that the soldiers did this to scare the men into answering the questionnaire because later informal hearings were held.

“There were several Caucasians, and they handed me this piece of loyalty question paper,” Jim recalled of his hearing. “They says, ‘Will you sign this now?’

And I says, ‘No. The only time I’ll sign this is when I get home to Gridley.’ So he says to me, ‘You guys were influenced by your older brothers or older people.’”

Shortly after the informal hearings, the Block 42 men were returned to Tule Lake. When asked if they had ended up answering the questionnaire, Mori said, “Absolutely not!”

Unbeknownst to the Tuleans, the Tule Lake administration had no legal authority to arrest the Block 42 men. The administration had been informed by the War Department and FBI that refusing to answer the questionnaire was not a violation of the Selective Service Act and did not carry a $10,000 fine and/or 20 years in jail. This information was never made public to the camp inmates, and the administration continued to pressure Tuleans into answering the questionnaire.

The Tule Lake administration’s hardline approach towards the Tuleans contributed towards the administration’s dismal failure in administering the questionnaire properly. According to “The Evacuated People: A Quantitative Description” by the WRA, there were 77,842 inmates eligible to register for the questionnaire from all the 10 WRA camps. Of the 77,842 eligible, 3,254 did not register from all the 10 camps. Of the 3,254 who did not register, 3,218 were from Tule Lake.

Meanwhile, Camp Tulelake was utilized again later that year in 1943.

“When Tule Lake was converted into a segregation center, the farm workers in the camp went on strike, refusing to harvest the crops,” said Sutton.

“So internees from other camps were sent to Tule Lake to break in the harvest because they needed to send the harvest to the other camps. They brought in 243 internees from other camps. And because they were paid higher wages and because Tule Lake was on strike, they said, ‘Well, we’ll house them at Camp Tulelake for your protection.’”

After the Japanese Americans inmates from other camps harvested Tule Lake’s crops, they were returned to their respective camps.

Although the Tule Lake crop was harvested, the nearby City of Tulelake was also facing a farm labor shortage with so many of their people in the Army. As a result, the City of Tulelake petitioned the government for aid, and the government sent 150 Italian prisoners of war. The Italian POWs were used to bring in the harvest and to convert Camp Tulelake into a POW camp that would eventually house 800 German POWs.

“The main function of the 800 German POWs was to work for the local farmers, bringing in the crops, planting crops, anything they needed to keep the community going,” said Sutton. “There were strict rules for the farmers to follow if they were going to have POWs working for them. They had to pick them up right at 8 a.m. They were to bring them back at lunchtime if their farm was close enough. Otherwise, they were to get the mess hall to make them a bag lunch. They were to bring them back here by 5 p.m. every night.

“If they requested nine or less POWs, they didn’t have to have an armed guard with them, so there are all kinds of stories in the Basin, of kids remembering these POWs at the farm, and only being three of them and never seeing an Army, so the thinking was they must never have been a threat because there was never an Army around.

“And there were other rules like they couldn’t be treated to soda and beer and candy or anything that was a wartime kind of treat, but there are also tons of stories of the local farmers’ wives, coming down at lunchtime with a cooler full of soft drinks and beer and a fresh baked pie for them, so their treatment was much different than what it should have been for that time period.”
A scene from this year's Tule Lake pilgrimage. (By MARIO G. REYES/Rafu Shimpo) [3]

A scene from this year's Tule Lake pilgrimage. (By MARIO G. REYES/Rafu Shimpo)

Currently, there is an effort to preserve the Camp Tulelake campsite. Sutton said the Friends of the Fish and Wildlife Refuge received a grant in 2006, as part of the Preserve America program. The money is enough to rehabilitee a portion of one building.

As for the Tanimoto brothers, Mori was held at Tule Lake until the end of the war, but for reasons unknown to the brothers, Jim was released early. Jim returned home to Gridley, Calif., on Feb. 26, 1944, a year before the war ended.

Jim tried to resume his former farming life in Gridley but it wasn’t easy.

“Gridley is a small community of about 3,000 people,” said Jim. “So you either went to school with their kids or you shopped at their stores or you knew them personally. When we got back, they didn’t want no Japs. And these were your friends. But there was another group there. They were new people so we didn’t know them. They were the conscientious objectors, and they said, ‘Welcome back.’”

One particular incident stuck with Jim. Shortly after his return, Jim bumped into his former high school coach and physical education teacher whom he had had for four years and whom Mori had had as well.

“I walked up to him and extended my hand,” said Jim. “I says to him, ‘I’m home. I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?’ He told me I was on the wrong side, turned his back on me and walked away.”

Years later, the teacher became a peach farmer like the Tanimotos and they met again at an agricultural meeting.

Jim recalled that the man came over to him but he didn’t have the heart to reconcile with him.

“I says to him, ‘Forget it. Get out of my face. I’m not shaking your hand. Get the hell out of here,’” recalled Jim. “Then I turned my back and walked away.

“Several other things like that happened. In Gridley, the feeling isn’t the same no more. Before the war, I could count on my friends, but it’s not like that anymore.

(The Evacuated People: A Quantitative Description by the War Relocation Authority; Years of Infamy by Michi Nishiura Weglyn; Native American Aliens: Disloyalty and the Renunciation of Citizenship by Japanese Americans During World War II by Donald Collins contributed to this article.)

Article printed from Rafu Shimpo: http://rafu.com/news

URL to article: http://rafu.com/news/?p=7717

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[1] Image: http://www.rafu.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/prison-pov.jpg

[2] Image: http://www.rafu.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/tanimoto-bros1.jpg

[3] Image: http://www.rafu.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/interior-building.jpg

the "lost battalion" reunited with the combat team that saved them.

WWII soldiers reunite, thank heroes A group dubbed the "lost battalion" reunited with the combat team that saved them.
David Ono
LOS ANGELES (KABC) -- On this Veterans Day, we take you back 65 years to a World War II battle so fierce that the U.S. Army places it among its top ten in history. Soldiers involved in that battle recently held a reunion.

It's a remarkable story of tremendous sacrifice from a group of heroes who could have turned their backs on this country but instead used their mistreatment as resolve to prove their loyalty.

We know them today as the Japanese Americans of the 442nd Infantry who bravely rescued the lost battalion.

Their story begins exactly 65 years ago. In the dense forest of the Vosges Mountains in France, the 200 soldiers of the 141st Texas regiment found themselves surrounded by the Nazis, outnumbered and outgunned.

They were trapped by 6,000 fresh German troops under direct orders from Hilter to hold their ground.

The press dubbed them as "The Lost Battalion."

They dug into the mud and fought off one German attack after another.

Bruce Estes was 19 years old at the time and says the fighting was only part of the problem.

"We went five days without food. I could stick my finger through my navel and rub my backbone," recalls Estes.

In a desperate effort to get the Texans food, Army officials ordered artillery shells to be stuffed with chocolate. They then fired them over the thick trees, landing right on top of the Americans.

"The first thing they did, they tried to shoot some chocolate bars into us and right away they got on the radio and said stop that, because we took some casualties from that hard chocolate. It sounds crazy but it happened," said Jack Wilson as he described what it was like being part of the "Lost Battalion."

Two separate fighting units were deployed to try to reach the "Lost Battalion," but were viciously fought back.

The U.S. Army had one hope left in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, a unit made up entirely of Japanese Americans, many of whom spent the early part of the war imprisoned in internment camps.

The U.S. labeled them "enemy aliens" even though they were born and raised in the United States.

The prejudice they endured is one of the darkest chapters in American history, yet these young men were desperate to fight for their country and prove their loyalty. They got their chance with the 442nd team.

In a matter of months, they became the most decorated unit in American military history.

Now it was their job to rescue the "Lost Battalion."

"Honor, duty, and as our parents would say, don't bring shame to the family," said Lawson Sakai, a graduate of Montebello High School.

There's a famous quote that reads, "The tragedy of war is that it uses man's best to do man's worst."

Sakai lived that quote. He vividly recalls fighting his way towards the "Lost Battalion."

It was his 21st birthday and almost his last.

"Machine guns are firing at us, and all of the sudden this German popped up in front of me and shot me point blank," recalled Sakai. He described how the German soldier had missed, and they struggled in a violent fist fight. Sakai recalls that when the soldier's helmet fell off, he realized that he was just a 14- or 15-year-old boy. He died in Sakai's arms.

Days of brutal fighting followed. Each tree in the forest had to be earned, and the violence was beyond description.

"Artillery shells screaming at you coming in, exploding. It's the noisiest thing you can imagine, and it's hard to describe, and then bodies flying apart. People being killed in front of you. You can't describe it," said Sakai.

"It's hard to tell young people what it was like when the whole world was at war," explained Sakai.

It took five days, but they made it.

Jack Wilson remembers when the first member of the 442nd unit appeared. They almost shot him thinking it was a German trick.

"I raised that rifle up again and was just about ready to shoot, and all at once this guy raised up his hand and said, 'Hey you guys need any cigarettes?'" Wilson recalled.

Newsreel cameras captured the "Lost Battalion" coming out of the forest, owing their lives to the Japanese American unit who sacrificed dearly to reach them.

The 442nd suffered more than 800 casualties. The K Company, which started with 186 men, had 17 left. The I company, which started with 185 men, had eight men left.

The Texans promised to never forget the 442nd team, and they certainly kept that promise. They held a reunion in Houston, Texas, 65 years later, still saying thank you.

"I think they are the finest bunch of boys there ever was. They had something to prove and as far as I'm concerned, they more than proved it," said Wilson.

Former President Bill Clinton once said, "Rarely has a nation been so well served by a people so ill-treated."

The 442nd earned 21 medals of honor during World War II.

Link: Go For Broke National Education Center

In praise of San Jose’s Japantown — the JA Mayberry

this is from
NIKKEI VIEW: The Asian American Blog
Gil Asakawa’s Japanese American perspective on pop culture, media and politics

In praise of San Jose’s Japantown — the JA Mayberry
November 8th, 2009 · 3 Comments


Unlike the many Chinatowns that serve as ethnic cultural enclaves in many American cities from coast to coast, and the increasing numbers of districts variously called “Koreatowns” and “Little Saigons,” you won’t find many Nihonmachi, or Japantowns. There are lots of reasons for this, but the main one is probably the Japanese American community’s need to assimilate into mainstream America after the shame and humiliation of being imprisoned in internment camps during World War II. In the 1950s and ’60s, most JAs moved into suburban America and avoided clustering in ethnic Japanese areas.

Denver has Sakura Square, a one-block development built in the 1970s I like to call “Tiny Tokyo” because it’s ridiculously small compared to Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo. And New York City has a couple-blocks of Japanese businesses that have sprouted in recent years in the East Village that might be called a “mini-Japantown” in Manhattan. Seattle’s Japantown evolved after the war into the International District, though I think it’s still anchored by the awesome, generations-old Uwajimaya supermarket.

But not surprisingly, the three Japantowns that are officially recognized as national historic districts are all in California, where the vast majority of Japanese immigrants settled in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Along with the well-known and tourist-filled Little Tokyo in LA and San Francisco’s Japantown is the Japantown area of San Jose that’s more a neighborhood than a business district.

Erin and I have traveled to and stayed at both Little Tokyo and San Francisco’s Japantown, but only visited San Jose’s J-town a couple of times. We spent a few hours there last week and we love it. Here’s why:
First, it’s not a tourist trap, with shops selling cheap trinkets and souvenirs for travelers from the US and Japan. Not that that’s so bad, but the lack of such shops is striking when you wander in San Jose compared to San Francisco or Los Angeles.

Second, unlike the other two J-towns, it’s an area where Japanese still live — and have for generations. The more citified J-towns have suffered from the outflow of the Japanese families to the suburbs, and the districts themselves have been remade by recent urban renewal projects and development. The sense of history is more palpable everywhere in San Jose, while you have to rely on preservation efforts and monuments to carry on the values of the past in LA and SF.

Third, San Jose as a city is simply more laid-back and smaller-scale. Few buildings in San Jose’s J-town rise up more than two or three stories. Many of the storefronts and restaurants probably haven’t changed much since they were originally built. Or if they have, they still feel quaintly small-town.

In fact, Erin captured the feel of San Jose’s J-town perfectly while walking down the sidewalk past older guys sitting on a bench, people waiting for their favorite restaurants to open for lunch, and shoppers ambling into the local tofu shop for the morning’s fresh, homemade tofu. “It’s like Mayberry, only for Japanese Americans,” she chuckled. “You expect to hear people say ‘Hey Shig!’ and ‘Hi Tak!’ instead of ‘Hey Andy!’ and ‘Hi Opie!’”

It’s true. This J-town feels like a time capsule of small-town America — with a Japanese cast.

The area isn’t that much bigger than Denver’s Tiny Tokyo, stretching only a few blocks in all directions. It sits north of downtown San Jose, and goes from First Street to the west to 8th street to the east, and Jackson Street to the south and Taylor Street to the north. The streets are wide and quiet, and there’s a slower pace to life than its counterparts in LA and San Francisco. Its outskirts are lined with the typical older bungalows that make up San Jose’s traditional residential architecture. You can tell some of the ones where JAs live by the manicured bonsai bushes out front.

People acknowledge and talk to each other on the street. When we were trying to decide on a lunch spot, we began talking to an older couple waiting for Gombei, an excellent restaurant Erin and I had dined at on a previous visit, to open. But a woman walking by overheard us and suggested we try a new shabu-shabu restaurant down the block that she’d eaten at and liked, called Shaburi. So we did, and had a fabulous meal with thin slices of beef and lots of vegetables cooked in personal hot pots, for under $9.

One of our favorite shops in J-town is Nikkei Traditions, which sells arts, crafts, clothing, gifts, books, CDs and DVDs made by and about Japanese Americans and Hawai’i. Half a block down the street, the grandkids of Roy Murotsune, who ran a Mobil gas station on a J-town corner for decades, recently fixed up the property and re-opened Roy’s Station as a hip coffee shop. It’s that kind of family-oriented, historically anchored place.

History is important in all of the Japantowns, but in LA and SF it’s because the community is always struggling to preserve bits and pieces of history against the march of time and money and development. They also are undergoing business and cultural evolutions as businesses are increasingly owned not by Japanese or JAs but by Koreans and others. In San Jose’s J-town, though, the respect for history is part of preservation efforts but you get the feeling that the spirit of the place is always going to be preserved and people aren’t sweating or struggling against the forces of modern economics. There are volunteer service organizations that care for elders and that promote the J-town businesses. The past, present and future seem well-cared-for here.

I’m sure that’s just a naive outsider’s view, but one reflection of that spirit is that the community is slowly but doggedly building a new Japanese American Museum that is beautifully designed to look modern and traditionally Japanese at the same time, and also fit into the residential block on which it sits. The building is right next door to the home where former Transportation Secretary (and namesake of the San Jose International Airport) Norm Mineta was born and grew up in. It’s not a jarring transition at all from the house to the new museum building.

A few buildings down and across the street is a somewhat cluttered enclave of a home converted to an art gallery, with a series of open sheds covered with partial roofing, that looks like a machine shop or mechanic’s garage of some sort. Jeanne Katsuro, who’s operated The Classic Rock jewelry store for two decades plus in J-town had just met us a half-hour before and was happily walking us around and introducing us to everyone she knew — which is apparently everyone, period.

When we walked by the ArtObject Gallery, she insisted that we visit the artist who owns the space, Ken Matsumoto.

As we approached the fenced-off backyard, Jeanne yelled for Ken, and we saw a face peek out from behind the fance. He came around to the side door of the gallery, which he has someone else run. The gallery doesn’t display his art in the current show. But he walked us into a back area behind the gallery where he has his sculptures on display. They’re brilliant, mostly using stone and carving them into gorgeous curvaceous cones or bowl shapes with flat tops, into which he bores out perfect smooth holes.

The pieces are intriguing for their use of found material (stone is about as elemental as you get) transformed by technology and industry into glossy, irresistible objects that look as if they hold messages from ancient gods.

He showed us a lot of his work, including a mockup for a residential commission for which he’s creating a sculpture, an accompanying wall that changes with the movement of the sun, and another piece at the end of a lap pool.

The piece that really moved me was one of his signature cones, created from bricks from the doctor’s house across the street that used to be where the museum is now being built. Matsumoto took many of the original bricks to recycle them in his art, and to keep the spirit of the JA community that founded San Jose’s lovely Japantown alive in new and marvelous incarnations.

For me, that’s a perfect statement on why San Jose’s Japantown is a great place: The spirit of its community lives on, effortlessly.

We’d like to visit more often… and who knows? Maybe some day we’ll be lucky enough to live there and become part of the fabric of this magical little area, this Mayberry for Japanese Americans.

Tags: Food & Dining · asian american · japan · places

3 responses so far ↓
1 Kathy Sakamoto // Nov 10, 2009 at 11:15 am

Thank you for visiting our Japantown. It sounds like you’ve hit on some of the high points of our small district. Akiyama Wellness Center will be opening soon (an extension of Yu-Ai Kai Senior Services). You’ll find a list of updated annual events on our website (usually!) – Nikkei Matsuri (501c4 npo) in the spring, SJ Buddhist Church Betsuin Obon in July, Aki Matsuri (Wesley United Methodist Church) and the Spirit of Japantown Festival (501c3-npo Japantown Community Congress of San Jose – through SB307) in the Fall. Mochitsuki fundraisers (Yu-ai Kai and Wesley United Methodist Church) both have these) in December.

The Japantown Business Association (JBA) runs the Certified Farmers Market every Sunday year round which will celebrate its 20th Anniversary in 2010. Contemporary Asian Theater Scene (CATS) and San Jose Taiko (35th Anniversary year in 2009) both call SJ Japantown their home. A new halau occupies what used to be Soko Hardware on Sixth, Ikebana Arts (Sogetsu School) is on Sixth also next to Jeanne’s store. Ukulele Jams (ukulele instruction on Sixth), Ukulele Source (ukulele sales – high end ukuleles on 5th).

These are separate but they talk-as does everyone in Japantown. For a little place we have a lot of interest because the City of San Jose and the SJ Redevelopment Agency have been involved here with Jtown community leaders highly engaged in bringing attention to the area.

There’s more in the works, but of course, everyone has to work with the economy right now and we’re slowly making good on the work that needs to be done to further solidify the place that Japantown San Jose has in the world.

BTW-the beautiful poster that you’ve placed at the beginning of your article was designed by Tamiko Rast, who is one of Roy and Ester Murotsune’s grandchildren. She and her brother are Rasteroids Design (web design and graphic design) while sister Jasmine owns the Coffee Shop and mom, Carole owns the property. Their whole extended family is involved here in Japantown SJ.

The posters are available through Nikkei Traditions and Nichi Bei Bussan for $5 (unframed, 18″ x 24″ standard). Questions or follow up, please call! – JBA office (408) 298-4303 although email is best!

Thanks again for your interest in Japantown San Jose. (I did watch Mayberry – I liked Aunt Bee) Hope you’ll write more and come visit again soon!
2 Gil Asakawa // Nov 10, 2009 at 11:24 am

Thanks for all the helpful information about San Jose’s Japantown, Kathy! You can be sure we’ll be visiting again….
3 Arlene Tatsuno Damron // Nov 16, 2009 at 2:12 am

“Hands-on”,”handmade’, and unique are descriptives for much of what is and happens in San Jose’s Jtown, whether it be the “artisan” handmade, no-preservatives-added tofu at San Jose Tofu, Ken Matsumoto’s unique stonework, the venerated manju at Shuei-do, the handcrafts at Nikkei Traditions, the aikido, karate, kendo, and judo dojo workouts, the lattes and teas at Roy’s Station, the newspaper rolling and handcraft classes at Yu-Ai Kai, the Sak ‘n Sak banner totes and bags, the intricate tattoo art of State of Grace, the drumming of San Jose Taiko, and at Nichi Bei Bussan, our one- of-a-kind aloha shirts, “bi-bu’s”, “hang-ups”, kapogi aprons, kimono tops, tsuzumi pillows, zabuton, noren, and futons. Japantown…”the Heart of the Valley”
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