World War II Remembered

Interning the Japanese

306 Interning the Japanese • Elizabeth Toll Stragnell FollowingtheGreatDepressionofthe1930swewerecomfortable in our WASP community in Southern California. Events occurring in Europe were shadows on a distant stage, having little effect on our lives. My grandparents had decided against their long-planned trip to Germany for the XI Olympiad, fearing what Adolf Hitler might have in mind. They read the Los Angeles Times and were aware of his rise to power, but chose not to dwell on his antics. My mother, a single parent of four, was too busy with us and with school and town activities to take on Hitler. It is my impression that my family was fairly typical of the time and place in feeling isolated from the War in Europe. We rode the school bus morning and afternoon and looked forward to the adventures of each day, forming neat lines as the bus approached, boarding to join youngsters from the first stops: the Anglo, Mexican, and Japanese families who lived in unincorporated county territory abutting San Marino. The Nisei, second-generation American-born Japanese, were the quiet ones sitting sedately on the school bus—the Interning the Japanese: Elizabeth Toll Stragnell 307 ones with the straight black hair, the shy looks, the perfect grades, the strange names. We knew that their first names were Shezui, Shigeko, and several others I’ve long forgotten, but if we knew their last names we could not have pronounced or spelled them. Their families ran a large chrysanthemum nursery that kept them totally occupied. The children had nursery chores after school each day and attended Japanese school all day Saturday. They were not allowed to socialize with us in any way. They were reserved, and quietly polite. How little we knew them! On September 1, 1939, Hitler dropped bombs on Poland and sent his troops to invade that country. As well as changing the lives of untold millions of people, the news of that invasion ruined my 14th birthday. We went through the motions of Labor Day cum birthday, but the usual festive spirit was missing; our thoughts dwelt on the Poles aswellasonourownservicemenandwhatmighthappentothemshould we get into the War, as many thought we should. As folks closed summer places for the winter, we couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for us and who might be missing from the next years’ gatherings. But the War was still far away. South Pasadena These feelings of unease stayed with us for several years as we followed the actions in Europe, prayed for Allied soldiers, sent Bundles to Britain , watched snippets of the War in Europe as shown in Movietone News, but the War seemed very far away. The demeanor of our Japanese acquaintances remained unchanged; they were shadows in our midst. We advanced into the high school in South Pasadena, riding the “Big Red Streetcar” instead of the school bus, the Japanese sitting sedately, the Anglos intermingling as before. Here in South Pasadena we found another kind of Nisei teenager, active in sports and student-body activities. They had American names. “Bill” Yamanaka was a football hero and junior class president. “Pat” Nomi was involved with Bengals (a school service club), Scholarship Society, and office activities; she aspired to be a nurse. Both Pat and Bill were members of the Honor Society and maintained 4.0 grade point averages and hoped to attend Stanford, USC, or Pomona. For our sophomore class party in June of 1940 we had selected Wagner’s, a swimming-pool complex in Pasadena. As we lined up to 308 World War II Remembered pay our fee, Bill Yamanaka was denied entrance because of his skin color; our Mexican classmates would be next. The teachers fussed and sputtered with embarrassment. The Anglo students, each and every one, raised such an uproar that the pool attendant went in search of the manager. We were finally placated with an offer to have our party in a private pool which was part of the complex, at no extra fee. He stated, “The pool will be emptied, cleaned, and refilled overnight.” Cleaned of what, we wondered. We learned about bigotry that day; we also learned the satisfaction of standing up for the victim. It was nearly noon on Sunday, December 7, 1941, when we heard about the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. A paperboy was shouting the news in our almost rural neighborhood; this had never happened before. Suddenly, the War which...