<Begin Segment 9>

SY: You talked about this adopted young woman.

TS: Oh, yes. And I don't know whatever happened to her, 'cause she was only with us in Fresno, and then from Fresno -- oh, I remember one of the things used to drive my father crazy was right next door to us was a bunch of bachelors and he could hear them talking, and then they'd be talking about the girls. So it was not happy-making there. And from... I remember being like a Brownie or Girl Scout, seeing people come to visit. Then I, then we went to Jerome. And I don't know if it was a three-day trip or five-day trip on the train, but...

SY: It was, well, considering it was the furthest from, one of the further camps.

TS: So probably five days at least, I think. But I remember they had all the shades down, yes, and then they'd stop periodically, let us out, and walk around in the middle of nowhere. And it was in the camps, I don't know if it started in Fresno, but in the camps, I took an interest in learning how to twirl a baton. I remember my father bought me white boots, majorette boots, and I had a book, I learned how to twirl, and then I started giving lessons. And then I was like a little majorette, teaching, so sometimes I meet people and they remember me teaching them how to twirl a baton. And my mother, who up to this point, being a farm wife, all of a sudden she's surrounded by a lot of Japanese people, and she is artistic and she does have an artistic soul. She became friends with the dancers, Japanese dancers and shamisen players, and got me involved in doing kabuki plays. And learning odori, I don't know how, I think the Japanese did a lot of bartering. Maybe my mother sewed or did something in exchange, so I was able to get Japanese dance lessons, I got shamisen lessons, I got nagauta singing lessons. I didn't read or write Japanese other than katakana. So what would happen is that my mother would be very involved. She would tell me the words, she would tell me what they meant, and I would mouth them and say them back. I just remember one line that I absolutely loved. It was from Hichidan menno okaru. And if you were to speak Japanese the regular way it would be "Yurasanka, watasho mae ni moritsubusare." But the way you would say it in kabuki is, "Yurasanka, watasho mae ni moritsubusare," very dramatic. [Laughs]

I don't think most Japanese people even knew, but what I loved also in the camps, they had signs in the mess halls. And so if someone wanted to give you a dollar, fifty cents, they would say, "From so and so to so and so." And it's a little envelope, and you got a little money. If they liked what you were doing, they'd say, "Umaizo," you're wonderful. Or if they didn't like you, they would yell out, too. I mean, it was like an immediate... and when I think about it, Japanese are so polite and they don't really say much of anything, so how did they become so animated when you go to see a play like that? But she gave me a love of the theater and it started in camp. None of my other sisters have it, they could care less. They played the violin, the enjoyed the violin, two of my older sisters, not the oldest. So sometime when they would have programs in camp, they used to play the violin together. But I would do either my baton twirling or my Japanese drama.

SY: Do you remember telling your mother this is something you wanted to do?

TF: No, no, it's just something... actually, I think it was just something she wanted me to do and I just did it. And then it wasn't until later that I realized I really loved doing it. I loved the sound of it, it's strange, it's weird, I didn't always know what's going on, but I remember years later when the kabuki first came to the United States, I got on a Greyhound bus, I didn't even know enough that I should order the tickets ahead of time, I went to the box office. I was only there, I mean, I was there overnight just expecting I'm gonna get in. How silly is that? I mean, this is the first time the kabuki is coming, and I pleaded to the lady at the box office, "I've come all this way, I love this, please, I want one ticket. Can I get one ticket to get in?" And I got in, and I didn't understand what was going on but I loved the sound, I loved the feeling, it just reminded me. So in a way, it reminded me of the good part of the camp days. I remember Fukami-sensei from the Stockton area, and Nishiyori-sensei from, I think, the Seattle area. I don't even remember what part of camp or which camp, 'cause I was in Jerome, Arkansas, and then I went to Rohwer, Arkansas, when Jerome closed, we went to Rohwer. But to me, when I think of camp days, I think of those particular incidents.

SY: Now were you the youngest in this troop?

TF: I probably... I don't know if I was absolute youngest, but yes, pretty much.

SY: There weren't too many other young people.

TF: No, no. But when I went to Rohwer camp, there was one girl that I... to this day, she is one of my very best friends. We lost touch for about forty-five years, but I think when I left Jerome and I went to Rohwer camp, we were in seventh grade together. And forty-five years after that, she was trying to have a reunion and she got my name, got me, and since then we've slowly started seeing each other. And then I remembered that when we left camp, she lived in Denver, I lived in Chicago. She came to visit once, and I went to visit her once. But, you know, I was never a good correspondent, never really kept in touch. But you know, there's almost, when you meet someone from camp days, there's an instant bonding. I go to a gathering of Chicago All Clubs, all the teenagers belonged to different clubs. And it may have been the Silhouettes, may have been the Romans, the Robabes, whatever, and no one had real names. It was Chango and Yogo, and used strange names. But the minute I know that someone's been in camp, I just gravitate to them and I feel we can communicate and we have something.

SY: Kind of unspoken.

TF: Yes. We shared a piece of history that... and when I think about it, I think it's just amazing the journey we've all taken to come from there, all of us with nothing, going out to various parts of the world. And now, years later, just coming back together. The last time I was with the whole group it was sixty-five years since I'd seen some of them, and I thought it's wonderful. And first, people would get together. They'd all get together in Las Vegas. First, no one, everyone's busy gambling and eating and having a good time. They used it as an excuse just to go to Las Vegas, I felt. But in the last few years where so many have died out and there's just a handful left, I noticed people are talking to one another. And some of the... one club in particular, Robabes, where the members are so close they really stay in touch. And it had a meaning, strong meaning for each of them.

SY: So these were clubs that formed after camp?

TF: These were clubs that formed in Chicago after camp. And in the old days, we didn't date like people date now. It was like, let's say, the Silhouettes would give a dance, and so they decorate some gym. Abe Hagiwara was very active, he was an older man, he's the uncle of Mike Hagiwara who's an actor, very active in the community. And then everyone would go. Everyone would go just as a group. And you have your first dance, last dance, and then it's not like you have a date that you go to that, but that was our dating.

SY: Probably very similar to what happened in camp, too.

TF: Yes. In camp, when they would have those dances, I would sit outside and listen to the music and watch through the window.

SY: You were too young.

TF: I was too young.

<End Segment 9> - Copyright © 2011 Densho. All Rights Reserved.