Herb Tsuchiya, Actor & Retired Pharmacist
Herb Tsuchiya's trying early life ignited a drive that fueled him through school and into a secure job as a pharmacist and eventually launched him into a second life as an actor in plays performed internationally.
Photo by Madeline Crowley |
My first pet was a dragonfly that I caught and tied a thread around; it was alive for just a short time. Some of my first recollections of Minidoka Camp were that it was dry, dusty and hot in the summer, very muddy when it rained and very cold in the winter.
Herb on the Central Area, before the Japanese-American Internment Camps:
What do you remember about
the neighborhood (before 1942) when you were sent to the Japanese-American
Internment camps?
I remember we were very poor so we lived in a rented a
house. It was a diverse neighborhood: Blacks, Jewish, Chinese, Japanese,
Filipino. I was the youngest of 7. All my siblings were born at home by midwives. I was the only one who was born
in a hospital, at Harborview Medical Center.
Collection Herb Tsuchiya |
One recollection of childhood was that our after-school
snack was one slice of Wonder Bread sprinkled with sugar, one slice only. Dinnertime was soup, often salt water with
boiled potatoes, carrots, celery, onions and a soup bone, a beef bone that had
been gotten from the butcher for free. That bone gave it flavor.
That was your
standard dinner?
That was standard with probably rice or bread.
What did your father
do?
He worked on the railroad as a gandy-dancer, a laborer. I
didn’t learn anything about this ‘til I was an adult. My Dad was trained as a
schoolteacher but after the Russian War in Japan there was an economic
depression. He was recruited by the railroad to come to America where the
streets were paved with gold, where money grows on trees.
Gandy-Dancers
His father at work on the RR. Collection Herb Tsuchiya |
Herb's father and sister. Collection Herb Tsuchiya. |
This was after the Chinese Exclusion Act was passed in America.
Since the corporations couldn’t go to China for inexpensive labor anymore they
then went to Japan and the Philippines. My father worked in Montana on the
Railroad. It was hard labor done by the Chinese, Japanese and Filipino
immigrants.
Did your mother
work?
She worked as a waitress at a Japanese restaurant on Main
Street. She also had to wash our clothes by hand on a washboard with apple
soap. We had a hand-crank wringer in a big galvanized tub to get the water out
of the clothes.
The big event of the week was to be outside when the Ice Man
came so you get free chunks of ice to chew on. We had an icebox in the window
with a great big block of ice to cool the food. We didn’t have refrigerators
then.
So my mother, as was typical of immigrant families, had to handle
everything: childrearing, laundry, cooking, cleaning house and grocery
shopping. This on top of having a very
authoritative husband who’d say, ‘I worked all day, my meal has to be on time.
Where is it?’ I remember her stories from Montana [where they lived before the
Central Area] she’d always have to tell my brothers not to play by the railroad
tracks. Every time she heard a train, she’d have to run down to the tracks and
pull her sons off the tracks. They
wanted to be close enough to see the caboose man because he would always wave
to them and he’d had that lantern. That was fun for them to do.
The Caucasian girls would always ask my mother if they could
carry her Japanese baby because it was a treat to see an Asian child. Her doctors
always thought she was going to have twins because she was very petite, less
than four feet tall, in proportion her tummy looked big to a Caucasian doctor.
She only had one a time but she did have six boys in a row. She also had one
daughter who was left in Japan.
In 1942, you were 10
years old, did you have any real idea of what was happening?
No, not really. All I knew is we had a curfew, we had to be
in our house by 8:00 every night and we were restricted to areas between certain
streets. I remember waiting on a street corner for a teacher to bring our
report cards from Bailey-Gatzert School. Our teacher made arrangements for us
to meet her to get our report cards
Authorities came and checked all our radios to make sure we didn’t
have any short wave capabilities and we had to give them any knives or weapons.
Our home was one of the pickup points for the bus to take people to the first
place of assembly [for internment] at the Puyallup Fairgrounds. People could
only bring only two suitcases for their possessions. They’d ask to use our
bathroom during the week while they waited. I remember that.
Do you remember the
emotional tenor of that time?
No, really since I was a child, it was something we were supposed
to do and we just did it.
It was my first bus ride. I saw all these Japanese-American
families, they’d assemble at the Japanese Buddhist Church on Main Street and we
were in a caravan to Puyallup. It was called ‘Camp Harmony (Images)’ by the Government but it
had barbed wire fence all around it with guard towers, searchlights and men armed
with rifles and bayonets.
At that point did it
begin to dawn on you that this wasn’t summer camp?
Right away. We were told to pick up bedding bags and then to
go to stuff them from bales of hay. We stuffed our bags and that was to be the
mattresses over army cots in barracks. Next, everything required lining up:
you’d line up for the bathroom, for the showers and in the dining area for food.
The bachelors were kept in the parking lot across the street and armed guards escorted
them to the showers and to their three meals each day in the mess hall.
I remember people’s friends coming to visit. They’d meet at
the barbed wire fence and talk.
Did any of your
friends come?
No, they were too young and there was no transportation.
You were sent to the
Internment Camp, Minidoka?
That was my first train ride but all the windows were
covered with black blinds that had to be drawn all the way down. I guess they
were afraid we might signal to the enemy.
How long were you
there?
3.5 years. I was 13.5 years old, ready for middle school
when we left.
Minidoka American Concentration Camp. Herb, first row, middle. 5th grade. Collection Herb Tsuchiya |
What else do you
remember about Minidoka?
That’s where we went to school. Now, as I reflect back one
thing that amazes me is now that most of the Caucasian teachers at the camps
accepted that position fresh out of college. At one of the national reunions [of
internees] a couple of the former teachers told their stories. They didn’t know
what they were getting involved in. They volunteered to go to the camps and
teach. They didn’t know for how long it would be but they were still willing. They
had some very moving stories about how they appreciated the chance to get to
know and teach Japanese-American students in the ten different camps.
In your teens one’s identity
becomes a big concern. Did you think about being an American being in this camp
and that meaning somehow you weren’t regarded as an American anymore?
I didn’t think about that. I just thought it was a normal
thing that just happens to people. We lived with people who looked like us, were
like us and we were all sort of stuck together in a big huge community.
Were there pleasant
parts to living in the camp?
For me as a youngster, yes. My first pet was a dragonfly
that I caught and tied a thread around; it was alive for just a short time.
Some of my first recollections of Minidoka were that it was dry, dusty and hot
in the summer, very muddy when it rained and very cold in the winter. Comics were drawn of students walking to school and their shoes would get stuck in the mud
because it was so thick.
I remember our potbelly stove in the barracks. Each
compartment had just one stove that burned coal and wood and one light bulb. Outside
on the coal piles the boys would play King of the Mountain and that would turn
our clothes nice and black. Our mothers would have to wash our clothes on the
washboard in the laundry room and at that time everything was rationed, soap,
toilet paper and food too.
Returning from Minidoka Camp
When you came back to
the Central Area were you able to return the same place you’d lived before?
When we came back the government gave us $25 to start life
all over again. Some of us came back to Seattle but others scattered all over
the country. Our family returned to Seattle and were housed at the Seattle Japanese
Baptist Church in the Missionary Home. It’s where the Caucasian women
missionaries had a place a couple of blocks from the church. We shared living
quarters upstairs and a kitchen and a bath and facilities. That was temporary
until we could find housing through the Seattle Public Housing Authority for
low-income families. Others went to the Japanese Community Center (Hunt Camp History) on Weller Avenue
off Rainier Avenue. They slept in the classrooms for temporary housing. They
called that school space, Hunt Camp, after the mailing address for Minidoka.
So how long before
your family found housing of their own?
It was several months before we found housing in the Central
Area. We first stayed at Stadium Homes on what is now Martin Luther King Way, which
was temporary housing built for the War Workers in industry. Those houses used
wood burning stoves for heating and cooking and for heating the hot water, they
had pipes that heated the water up – hot water.
After Minidoka did
that feel kind of luxurious?
Yes, because these are nice little small homes, little
barracks too. Then we moved from there to Rainier Vista housing which as far as
we were concerned was even nicer, it was low-income homes on Martin Luther King Ave near Columbian Way.
Did you stay close to
the people you knew in the camps or did the dispersion prevent that?
I think we were close to the people in our block. The camp
was divided into about 36 blocks, army style with barracks, a central mess
hall, laundry, toilet and shower area. The living quarters were on both sides.
Our family address in Minidoka was block 13, barrack 6, apt C. The middle sections
were for larger families while the ends were for couples or single people.
So you stayed in
touch with people who were in that Block?
That was kind of our universe because the camp was quite
scattered, I think there were over 10,000 people in Minidoka.
When you came back how
did the Central Area seem to you?
I missed Pioneer Bakery as it was close to our old home.
They used alder logs to bake all their goods. As kids we loved to go there on
Halloween because we’d get good baked goods for our trick or treating. We loved
the aroma of the fresh baked goods.
I was at the old Washington Middle School, then at Franklin High School. For one year after high school I worked at Seattle University as a
janitor. So I always thank the Jesuits for providing my tuition to attend the University
of Washington, which was very ecumenical of them.
In the book “The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet,” the father is a rigid Chinese
nationalist because of the war in China. Did you experience in your family that
feeling that Japanese and Chinese people should be separate?
Yes, the exceptions were that we had friends that were Chinese
and Filipino; it just depended on your friendships. Yet, for the adults there
was that tension and that separation. During the post-Pearl Harbor time almost
all Chinese wore the button that said, “I am Chinese,” to differentiate themselves
because they did not want to be mistaken for Japanese.
Falling in Love and Getting Married
When you got older
you fell in love with someone of Chinese ancestry?
That resurrected some of the old feelings because my mother
was an immigrant from the countryside of Japan and that was a big ‘no-no.’ I was
basically marrying an old-time enemy from her point of view. Her standards, her
memories and her beliefs were based on her childhood and the conflicts those
countries had at that time. I think rural people in every country are more
traditional in their beliefs.
So, my mother woke me up in my bedroom when I was still a
bachelor and dating… She had a knife at her throat and said, ‘If you keep
dating that Chinese woman, I’m going to kill myself.
I can understand it now. Looking back, it was because she had
a hard time raising seven children by herself. The father doesn’t contribute
much to the child rearing due to male dominance. In addition the woman I was
dating, who later became my wife was widowed and had four small children. So,
to my mother this was her innocent youngest son.
Also, she had prevented my father taking me from our family
on the last boat from Seattle to Japan. My father was going to take me back to
Japan. My mother said, ‘No, you’re not splitting up the family. You go by
yourself.’ Now, I understand why he wanted me. In Japan the law of inheritance
mean the farmland and the house was only inheritable by a male. The only child
he had in Japan was a girl, my oldest sister, so she didn’t qualify so [that
was why] he wanted me. Later on, he adopted my sister’s husband and had the
courts change his [the son-in-law’s] last name so he could inherit the land. Then,
he had all six of his sons renounce their interest in the land by court order.
Two times we had to get a lawyer and get it documented that we release and have
no interest in the property in Japan so my sister’s husband could inherit land.
Tsuchiya Farm, now. Hiroshima, Japan. Collection Herb Tsuchiya |
Tsuchiya Farm, then. Hiroshima, Japan. Collection Herb Tsuchiya |
Your mother was
fighting against some real forces, the dominance of the husband, the authority
of the husband… She must have been a very strong woman.
And she divorced him too. That’s kind of groundbreaking too.
And of course the value of property and what that means to farming people. She divorced sometime during camp or right
after camp [approximately 1944] so she truly was a single mother.
She had four sons in the military during the War, two sons
in the 442nd fighting infantry in France and Germany and Italy. The
oldest son was wounded twice and received two Purple Hearts. Another son was in
Military Intelligence and served in Korea as Japanese translator. While the fourth
son volunteered out of camp to be a machine-gun tail gunner but was told, ‘We
don’t want a Jap machine-gunner. ‘ So he asked, ‘What about being a
paratrooper?’ They said ‘Oh, you can jump out of planes,’ so he went to Fort Benning GA and then made several jumps in Europe.
The Most Decorated Fighting Unit, The 442nd Infantry Regiment
Did all your brothers
make it home?
Yes, but I’m sure that was a great burden to my mother. So
many mothers received American Flags and Gold Stars [gifts from the government when their sons died in
combat].
[After the camp] my mother had to come back to Seattle. She had
a nervous break down and had to get electric shock treatments.
What would you guess
was the source of that, was it the dissolution of the marriage?
Not the dissolution of the marriage, it was the camp
experience and then the stress of worrying about her boys in the military. Her Japanese
culture says to internalize, to be stoic, to have the philosophy of ‘gaman.’ That
means perseverance, patience and persistence despite hardships and suffering.
There’s also in the culture of ‘kodomo
no tame ni,’ which means to benefit the children you sacrifice
everything. You sacrifice yourself to benefit your children; that’s the
parental culture of Japan.
When she came back from camp, she would travel on the bus to
work as a domestic and clean other people’s homes.
When you came back
did you immediately fall in love with the Chinese woman?
No, well, they were always trying to get me married off, but
I think I was 38 before I married. My mother wanted me to marry a nice, single,
never-been-married-before Japanese girl. She used to hook me up with a Japanese
girl. So every other weekend, I was dating the girl my mother had hand-picked
for me and every other I was dating Bertha, the woman who would become my wife.
After we were married for a couple of years my wife told me,
‘I knew you were dating that other woman.’ I thought I was being cool but she
had interviewed one of my staff workers at the pharmacy so she knew. She was a
good detective, an analyst. Women are good investigators; they have a sixth
sense. Their antenna are up. And we men, we think we’re being cool and smart
and smug.
Besides your mother
did you get any push back from your brothers or your friends?
No. no.
When did you get married?
In 1970.
So intermarriage
wasn’t as big a deal as it had been.
Not like it used to be. But for my mother who was an
original immigrant from Japan it was a big deal. She refused to come to the wedding.
But she was counseled by a Taiwanese/Chinese Pastor and friend from the
Japanese Congregational Church and he said, ‘You must go to the wedding of your
son.’ She reluctantly came.
And did she come to
eventually accept your wife?
Yes. After our daughter was born, she got to babysit her
granddaughter and then everything was ok. Marriage was ok. She got so much joy
and happiness.
She probably always
wanted the daughter she had to leave behind in Japan.
Did you ever find
that lost daughter?
Yes, her grandparents raised her. Later, I talked my sister
into coming to America as an adult. That was her first trip out of Japan, her
first airplane ride and her first trip to America. We had a wonderful reunion. She
met the rest of the family. In Japan, our family was rice farmers in the
mountains of Hiroshima Prefecture.
Yes, when I brought my Mother to Japan to meet her daughter
that was a very emotional day. Her hands, her whole body was shaking. She
hadn’t seen her.
How old was her
daughter then?
Middle-aged, I don’t know exactly. It was a very emotional
reunion. There must have been all sorts of guilt feelings going on there.
And so much loss, you
can’t reconstruct lost years.
She claimed her husband said, ‘That’s not our daughter.’
Because she was a
girl?
I don’t know.
Did you stay close to
your father after the divorce?
No. Only one brother stayed in touch, kept close by
corresponding [through the mail]. My father had wonderful handwriting, he read
a lot; he was like a scholar. He corresponded with one brother.
The Influence of Gordon Hirabayashi
As you were growing up,
did you think about how you were American and yet you were treated differently?
That’s why I became involved in theatre to tell some of
these stories to the community, to our own people, to other Americans. So,
‘Breaking the Silence’ is a readers’ theatre play by Ricky Nogima Louis. She
also lived in Minidoka in a block far far from our block. On her 4th
birthday, her father was taken by the FBI to be interrogated by the Dept. of
Justice in Santa Fe, NM. They had Five Department of Justice (DOJ) camps for
single males. These were only Buddhist Priests, Christian Ministers, commercial
fisherman with boats, businessmen who went frequently to Japan and Principals,
schoolteachers, anyone who was a leader in the community. Immediately after Dec
7th 1941, (the attack on Pearl Harbor) and on Dec 7th
these individuals were interrogated by the FBI, and whisked away to these DOJ
camps. Often, their families didn’t know
where these men, their fathers, were for six months.
Then were they
released and allowed to go with their families to the camps?
No. They were kept there and from their families.
They were separated
from their families the entire three and a half years of the camps?
Yes, that was the strategy. They wanted to get rid of all
the leaders, that was the strategy. And
all their mail was censored. So they’d get mail that was opened and portions of
it were blacked out.
There were 10 war relocation authority camps for the
families.
That’s why I’m motivated to be in this play commissioned by
the National Civil Rights group Japanese American Citizens League at their National
Convention at the University of Washington 20 years ago. It was for a fundraiser
for Gordon Hirabayashi’s legal trial by these young Asian activist lawyers of
all nationalities: Chinese, Filipino, Japanese, and Korean who decided to get
his conviction overturned.
Gordon Hirabayashi was one of three major dissidents who
decided to disobey President Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066 on the basis that
they did not think it was constitutional so they were going to test the
constitutionality of it. Gordon was an attorney or student so he intentionally
got arrested. The irony of that story is that the judge convicted him then he
had to hitchhike to the penitentiary. So, there’s a Japanese-American hitchhiking
the road with the face of ‘the enemy.’
He was put into prison. Later, he got three degrees at the
University of Washington then he taught mostly in Canada. Then, 20 years ago at
this National Convention we did the play. They had to hold off beginning the
play for 20 minutes because Nisei veterans were coming in their wheelchairs, with
their walkers and their canes to attend. Some of them cried because of the
stories were based on oral histories that the play demonstrated. During the
intermission of the play one of the actors said, ‘Who’s that guy sitting in the
front row asleep?’ It was Gordon Hirabayashi,
because they had had him on a tight schedule, he had been asked to speak all
over the place; he was just tired. But also he was that kind of person, just
very relaxed, very casual. The Japanese call it, ‘nonki,’ it’s means like
Hawaiian style, very low-key.
So you started
breaking the silence not just for yourself but also for your community about 20
years ago when you were about 60 years ago. You held onto those stories until you
were about 60. Was there a kind of unspoken pressure to keep those stories
quiet? Can you tell me about that?
None of my older sibling would talk about it. That was very
common. That was the way the whole Japanese-American community did not talk
about the camps and yet it’s what totally defines all of us. We all had that
common thread of experience.
Can you explain to
someone who doesn’t know about Japanese culture why that was?
In Japanese culture you do not stick out, if you stick up
you get pounded down. Everybody has to conform. In Japan, you travel in groups,
you wear the same uniforms, you all follow the flag of the leader. You behave
uniformly like the mother quail and the father quail and their covey of quails,
when they go left, you go left. We are all uniform. We don’t deviate from that
uniformity. We are quiet, respectful to authority, and we are respectful to
elders, to our fathers, mothers and older siblings. We don’t rock the boat. We
don’t talk, we internalize, we have ‘gaman,’ patience, perseverance persistence
in spite of suffering and pain. I always kid the mentorees I counsel that pain
and suffering are good for building character.
Herb’s Brothers and their Experiences
When your brothers
heard you were doing this play did they try to dissuade you?
No. No.
Did their feeling
about keeping quiet change after seeing the play?
They never came to it.
How did you feel about
that?
That’s ok with me. That’s the way they handled things. My
oldest brother was very bitter. He came back from war a very bitter changed
man. My mother kept this note from his teacher in Montana saying, ‘I’m so proud
and so happy to have your son in my class because he’s so a wonderful speaker,
wonderful student and very serious about learning. You should be very proud of
him because he does wonderfully in class. He’s a very good student, so
intelligent. She kept that note from his teacher for decades.
Do you think he
became bitter because he served his country and still was treated as less-than?
Yes, his term was I hate those Ketos [literally hairy
Caucasians]…
Well, those feelings must
have come from bad experiences.
He was wounded twice. His platoon was segregated, all Japanese,
the 442nd. They rescued the lost Texan battalion with great
casualties. The Germans were holed up in the hills with machine gun nests all
around. The 442nd were told to go rescue the Texas battalion on the
other side of that hill. They did and they lost, many men. Many men wounded.
And then when the Commander called for the assembly of the troops [after the
battle] he got mad, and said, ‘I told you I wanted the whole group here!’ They
could only say, ‘Sir, that’s all we have left.’ Oh!
So your brother
probably felt that loss wasn’t felt or appreciated.
No. They usually got the worst assignments. The orders no
one else would want to take. They were in the service so they just did it. When
the 442nd rescued the Jewish prisoners camp at Dachau, the prisoners
were starving so they gave them all their food rations. Then, all the prisoners vomited because they
hadn’t eaten for so long that they couldn’t handle solid food. The 442nd
were reprimanded by the troops who came later because they weren’t supposed to
rescue them. The Caucasian troops wanted to rescue the prisoners and have their
pictures taken. They wanted the news stories to be about them. So they were
very upset and angry at the 442nd who had only managed to get there
before the other troops. And the Jewish prisoners thought the Japanese had won
the war.
Oh, of course they would.
From their point of view these were Japanese soldiers. What did your brother do
after the war?
He wandered around town, kind of a lost soul, going to the
taverns. He was being angry and upset. He worked hard labor, mostly as a
gardener, back-breaking work. He came to my house and planted shrubbery and
trees for me and for my family, for his niece, our youngest daughter he planted
this Japanese apple pear tree. It died because our soil was hard pan – so he
got another tree in her honor and it grew. He also planted rhododendrons and
weeping pine tree for her.
So he loved her.
Yes. My oldest brother was a boxer too.
Was he good?
Well, he thought so. And he played football and he worked at
fish canneries; he did a lot of hard physical labor.
He’s gone?
He died all alone in his apartment. My other brother found
him. It was sad because he had a lot of respect for his two youngest brothers
because we got college degrees and he didn’t – he never did.
I think in some ways
you were lucky that you were young. I think it’s harder when you’re older
because you understand what’s happening around you.
Because you see the injustice.
[Herb Tsuchiya came to this project via Yosh Nakagawa, who was referred by Densho.org]
© Madeline Crowley People of the Central Area 2013 All material is covered by copyright. Express written permission must be given for any copyrighted material on this page. Email to request permission to copy or paste materials.
[Herb Tsuchiya came to this project via Yosh Nakagawa, who was referred by Densho.org]
© Madeline Crowley People of the Central Area 2013 All material is covered by copyright. Express written permission must be given for any copyrighted material on this page. Email to request permission to copy or paste materials.
This project was supported in part by 4Culture's Heritage Projects program |