Densho Digital Archive
Densho Visual History Collection
Title: Nancy K. Araki Interview I
Narrator: Nancy K. Araki
Interviewer: Tom Ikeda
Location: Los Angeles, California
Date: September 3, 2010
Densho ID: denshovh-anancy-01-0004

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TI: So your father, second class, gets off in San Francisco, and then pick up the story there. What happens?

NA: Yeah, he's met there by his father and his brother, Satoji, and they spend one night and then he's shipped off to be a houseboy to polish up his English, go to school, learn the American way. And the father and Satoji returns back to, I believe they were in, like, the Delta at that time, on one of the islands with celery farming. And so my father's on his own from the age of twelve, almost thirteen, and...

TI: Did he ever share with you kind of how it was for him, the very early times?

NA: Yeah.

TI: So what was it like?

NA: You know, he's got this kind of spunk spirit about him, too, I'm sure. And then, so I think it was, well of course it was difficult, and he had stayed, he was placed in a home and with the lady in charge and he was to do house cleaning, help some of the cooking and then go off to school, so his parents, knowing that these boys would come over, they had prepared him. So my dad, he says, "I was," he was taught to cook a bit and since he was now probably number five in the line of sons that were brought over as yobiyose, so they had a pretty good idea what, how to prepare him, so he was taught to cook and he also said he had English lessons. So it wasn't really like duh, but still, it was just a whole different environment. And yeah, in fact there was one classic story that just kind of stays in my mind is at one point this teacher says, he says they, they were pretty racist and anti-Asians. And so this one teacher especially was kind of riding on him and eventually he ended up just couldn't stand it anymore and called her a garbage can. He says that's the worst, worst thing he could call anybody at that time, and call her a garbage can, of course he got promptly thrown out of her class and was suspended, so then he transfers or goes to a different school, which was a much more friendlier environment, I guess. But he manages to go through high school in San Francisco area.

TI: So he goes to public school and is able to graduate.

NA: Right. And he would also end up finding outside jobs eventually. He was also befriended by some of the Japanese community members in San Francisco, very, people that you realize became his family, that would invite him to come over on weekends for Sunday dinner after service and all that. So he has this kind of sense of what, to survive you needed this kind of network, and he's always been very deeply appreciative of members of the community. But also he was very athletic, so he took a very active role in the community. He was on the first Proto team, which was a Buddhist basketball team in San Francisco. There's a photo of him and the, what, seven other guys decked up in their uniform.

TI: And during this time would he live with the family he was working with?

NA: Yeah, and eventually, as he got older, he had gotten a room and board. I don't, I can't remember clearly. It was in, I think it was in a Japanese home, and he would work and one of the jobs that he took on was at the San Francisco Tennis Club. And, and he -- no, I take that back. He was, I guess he was working for an Anglo family and that man was part, a member and so he somehow got that connection and that was a segregated, but he learned to play tennis there and excelled and started to teach people how to play tennis. It's very, he's a natural athlete as well as a natural musician. Yeah.

TI: And during this time, how much interaction did he have with your grandfather and his other brothers?

NA: They would, every so often, but not, it's not on a weekly or monthly basis. He talks about really, you're on your own and even if the, they come in it's just like to have dinner together or something and, you know, whatever. But you're, you're growing up on your own and what, what's, I think is really, I think it's a, it must be a trait. I mean, you had, start to have me thinking about these patterns, and I think there is definitely teachers in our family, people that really understand about nurturing or whatever, because I know, think about it, my father could've gone any which way and yet he had this sense of, well, duty to family, community, all. There's a, when you get down to it in the life of our family, the Moriguchi -- this, by the way, the Moriguchi family, our growing up, my growing up family -- there's a strong sense of do your best, be honest, and give back to the community. Those are kind of like said and unsaid kinds of values that was just kind of thrown in.

TI: And was that with your grandfather, or did it start more with your father? When did those values sort of...

NA: Well, I can't say that for my, my grandfather because really I only met him when I was only about a year old, I guess. I never had that relationship with that man because he was, was only the time that he and the Japan obaachan was brought over here, but they left by the time I was, like, barely one. What I know about the grandfather is mainly stories from my father, but definitely I know my, when my brothers and sisters and I get together, but especially the older, the two other brothers that are closest in age with me, we talk about the, really the strong kind of influence that our father had, and he was really kind of a... he taught by doing, but there's some great lessons that we all remember and partly of how you treat people. This, kind of jumping ahead, but I know that it was, it's amazing the three of us just recalled this one incident so well. When my dad was farming after the war back in the Mendocino coast, he kept his picking crew really small because he felt that they then could make a really decent living and he had also gotten his picking crew annually because it's kind of like trained and they know what he wants and they worked really well, and so he really purposely kept it small. And we remember this summer when there were, like, three cars that came up from Delano and filled with Mexican families wanting to work and seeking out work at my dad's fields, and my dad says, "You know, I'm really sorry I can't hire you, but I think you came a long way and all so," he says, "you, you can, there's accommodations. You can stay there, the bath house is here." And he made sure they had food. Next day he filled their gas tanks and gave each car, I think it was something like twenty-five, thirty, forty dollars. It was big money in those days, but gave them money and sent them off. And we were all kind of, we were watching all this process and were kind of like saying, how come? But the point is the appreciation, couple... appreciation is one. They really were seeking, but he couldn't do anything without them jeopardizing the crew that he has already. And so, yeah, that was a lesson that the three of us really remembered, all independently, but that kind of sunk in.

The other thing was in the beginning, when we got old enough to really start working on the fields, he would, the first, we would move up from the San Francisco to the Mendocino County and he would put us under the field supervisor -- this is the boss -- and the boss, I mean, the picking... I don't know if you've ever picked peas, but there's rows and you come down the row and then you come back up this row. It's like other picking produce, but Mr. Ochoa would put us on the back end of the slowest of his picking crew and so we would have to pick this way and we would do that the first day. And you know, you're like, "Oh, why we got to learn to pick and all that?" My dad would just tell us, "You have to understand how hard this work is, so you all gonna man the weighing station and you're gonna be receiving it. You're gonna be packing it. You're gonna be putting it up there." But he says, "I want you to know that that is hard work and that's your responsibility to be mindful of that." As teenagers sometimes we'd pop off because the pickers don't come all the time, so you got time and you're kind of goofin' off, and if you get caught on that, boy, dinner hour, we'd get the look and the talk to anyway, but at dinner hour when we were at home, oh my God, we would get it. "Who the hell do you think you are? The boss's kids? You guys are nothing. We're nothing without these people. You remember that." I mean, it's lessons like that that he just makes you mindful of your own position, whether you're high or low, the point is it's working together and to be honorably respectful and understand that codependency.

TI: Yeah, that's a great story. I think back to your father growing up on his own as a teenager in San Francisco and, and how there were times when the community might have helped him out and maybe there's an appreciation too of this sense of community also.

NA: Yeah.

TI: And not, even though at times, he may own the place, not feeling this sense of privilege in those situations because he was really on both ends of it. I mean, there were times when he was on the receiving end of, of help and so that was...

NA: And so I think, and I think part of it comes from his father and, and grandfather, because he did speak later on about his grandfather and having enough wealth and thinking in terms of the community in, back in Japan, with the orphanage, things like that. But so I think there are elements of that that influenced him, but certainly he really practiced.

<End Segment 4> - Copyright © 2010 Densho. All Rights Reserved.