SL: This is for Densho. My name is Susie Ling. Today is May 22, 2026. We are in Little Rock, Arkansas, and I am with Walter Manabu Imahara, who is from Baton Rouge and is a Sansei. Mr. Imahara, why don't you tell us about your family background?
WI: I was born in Sacramento, 1937. And I'm the firstborn of a big family, because I have older sisters, so the first male born, okay. And my whole family is nine children total. Okay, and eight of us were born in California, and then the war came along, and my younger brother was born in Kenner, Louisiana, after the war.
SL: So, did you go to school before going into the camp?
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WI: I was in camp, it was, first grade was in Rohwer, maybe in the second grade. But by that time, we had to leave. Because by the time we got to, the war was over in '45, my father chose to go to New Orleans because he didn't want to go back to the Sacramento-Florin area, where he had a 60-acre farm, two-story home, and just a really successful life was going on. Okay, and when he lost everything, he lost a lot of his... his outlook for life was diminished for a long time before it came back.
So my father is James Imahara, he's a Nisei. And if you go back to 1980 or '85 -- correction, 1895 -- my grandfather, Manizo, came from Japan. And he was a samurai by training, but his parents told him that the samurai days are over, and maybe you go to America. So he was a single man. He made his way from Hiroshima to Guatemala, Mexico, into the California area, where he settled down. So by that time, it's 1895 approximately. Okay, he lived on a farm doing farm work, and his wife came in from Japan, got married, the names and all that is in here. Okay, and my father was born in 1903. He's the first Imahara born in America under our name. Now we, of course, we're like the sixth generation now. Okay, so he's a first-generation Nisei. He's called second generation. And his life started really well, he went into the Sacramento area, and got married, and then the children started coming. All the names are listed. Okay, he had a very good life. And one of the biggest joy of his life was because he was an American citizen, he was able to buy land. Okay, and he bought a 60-acre farm with a two-story home, and they had plumbing, plumbing inside, even though he made an outdoor furo -- bath --- they had to use the heat. Okay, he had that outside, because my grandparents are still living, and they used a furo, and they used it. And we're kids, so we're afraid to go into that thing. Okay, but it was a very good life.
And then before World War II started in 1941, a few years before that, my grandparents passed away. Okay, which was kind of nice, because, my father said, he didn't want to go to camp with them. So that was the beginning of his happiness coming to an end. He had a great life. His future is great. He, you know, everything he did was successful, and one of them is he was in with the farming area. The land was so poor the Caucasians didn't want his 60 acres. It was the poorest land, he said. I mean, you can't put a horse and a plow in there because of the rocks and boulders. And pretty soon, what crop can you grow in between all that? It was table grape, it had to be hand selected, okay? But then he got into raising fruit trees in the orchard, yeah, so before the war, everything was going so great. He got into the... he had a barn.
And my father is very intelligent, even though he didn't finish high school, because he had to go work, see, and really intelligent, because in his mind he wanted to be an attorney, but he never got past eighth grade, because he had to go home. But he's so intelligent that he was able to purchase land and buy equipment and know what crops to grow, and he's the head of the co-op in Florin where every, all the farmers were bringing their produce in, depending on the time of year. Grapes, strawberry, okay, tomato, everything had to be boxed, packaged, and it's got to be like perfect, you know. Like the strawberry. It's like they got to, they got to pick it, and they got to select it, got to package it, put it on a train, and one day they get the money, and the money all the farmers accumulated, okay, they saved the money, what they had. But when the crops come back, came in, well, they got to pay the co-op back for the money they borrowed to raise the crop. So it was endless. It was no end to it, but the Japanese, who got to be able to grow their crops, they were happy because at least they had their own property. Okay, okay.
So by that time, my father was, had, I would say about before late '30s, he had a barn. Okay, he's a really deep thinker, and I've picked up the trait, so we can do many things at one time in our life and stay above water thing. Okay, okay, and one of the things he wanted to do is go into chicken business, okay, and because at that time all the farmers and those around the city, if they wanted to, they had to have their own chicken and had to have, so they have the eggs. Well, they grew it at home, but he could see that these people, they can't do it anymore. Both of them got to work, and things like that. Okay, so he got an idea, and only one person in Northern California was raising a chicken on wire, okay, where they could control the feed. So by that time I was four or five years old, three, four years old before the war, and of course I didn't go into the barn, we're afraid of the chickens, you know? Okay, and every Saturday they, a truckload of chicken, they put them in crates and they take them to the Sacramento Free Market. And as they drive, the feathers are flying off, and sometimes we go with them, but we're still children. And my two sisters were teenagers, and they would sell the chicken, see. And they had one guy named Jack, who, with a hook, they hooked the leg of the chicken, because the women buyer, Caucasian, mostly women, liked to feel the chicken. Because they're going to take it home, see. And it was business, so they'd go down and they'd sell every bit of it, and they make two hundred, two hundred twenty-five dollars in cash, they take it home. My father would come pick him up, and he'd go home. See, okay. And the eggs were also in his, of course, like in my talk, the most important thing that in his mind, he lived in a Caucasian world, and the Americans, he called them, eat eggs every day and chicken every Sunday, because, and he says on Saturday, when the Caucasian women come in, after he tied the legs together, they got to feel the chicken, they take the chicken home, they processed it, and that's their food. Okay, so even at that time my father was a deep thinker. He said, "Boy, if I can ever get a machine to maybe process the chicken, you can rent this place down there, the Sacramento Free Market, and maybe you put the chicken, maybe put on ice, and maybe we'll have eggs there. Okay, if we do this during the week, you know, maybe the people would eat more chicken more often rather than every Saturday. Because if they buy it all processed, why should they go home, the housewife got to kill the chicken and process it and all that. So deep thinking. So as a child, of course, young kids, we don't want to go out, we don't want to go into the barn, because we're afraid of chicken, chicken's so big, you know. Okay, so that was the beginning, but also beginning of the end. And when the war started, and everything fell apart, yeah. And, of course, he, all his life, he spoke about if the war didn't come along, we'd be in the chicken business.
SL: Your father was such an entrepreneur before his time. Tell us about your mother, though,
WI: My mother's home taking care of the children.
SL: Was she a Nisei?
WI: Yeah, okay.
SL: Was she a Nisei woman?
WI: Oh, yeah, because they got married and they had their children, and she's from the Sacramento area, I think. Okay, and she spoke... her English was not that good, so she's mostly Japanese, so coming up as Japanese, broken English shop, okay? But we understand, okay? So throughout my life, she passed away in like 1990 approximately. 1985 approximately, and she is the person in charge of the family. If not my father, we go to mother for everything, okay? And you'll find out when we got into camp, she really took hold, okay? So that was the beginning of the end of the good life.
Then December 1, 1941, everything's in a turmoil. People say, where's [inaudible]? You know, thinking of things like that. But we're kids, we don't know what's happening. See, as a parent, they knew that something's going to happen, and automatically within themselves, let's get rid of anything that's Japanese. All the Japanese photos, all these artifacts from Japan, the Japanese flag. My grandfather's samurai sword, threw it in the well. Okay, okay, but, but at that time he's passing away anyway. Passed away, but the sword went in the well. The past is being destroyed. Okay,
SL: Your father knew what was coming.
WI: Yeah, and it came. Other people, he was the, like the warden of the area, because he spoke English and Japanese, so he, although the Japanese people, they didn't understand well. You got it, you can't go out at night, okay? And pretty soon, you know, you got to stop selling your products, you're gonna have to liquidate by this date. They were in shock. Well, what about my stuff in the field? Okay, and of course eroding, okay. So that was the... but we're children, so we don't know what's, all the things the grown-ups were going through, okay.
SL: What about the land, because he was a land owner,
WI: He's landowner, but so what happened? He bought it for $11,000 in the early '20s, because he's American-born.
SL: Yes.
Okay. And they can only buy land that the Caucasians didn't want. The earth was terrible, rocks and all that, and so they didn't want it. But they had a two-story home, had a bathroom. Okay, so you can see it was really an upscale farmhouse compared to other Japanese. Okay, okay, so he's a deep thinker. Okay, but anyway, everything, so when December 7th, '41, he knew what was going on, and then pretty soon they let him to travel around the Sacramento, Florin, to tell the farmers that you gotta start liquidating. Okay, you know, tragic. tragic, you know, lot of tears, you know, and all the hopes just disappeared in other people's face. He said, "See, okay. And then they had all these.. they had to liquidate, okay? And they said, "Well, what you mean? Well, if you want to sell your refrigerator, refrigerator with an ice maker, and somebody offers you $5, you better get the $5, you know. It was turmoil, and I can remember that my mother said her friends had all these dishes from Japan, and someone offered like $5, $10 and they just broke it right there and started crying, you know. So it was a hard time going, and we haven't even gotten to camp yet. And your vehicles, you know, it's somewhere off of you $50 you take it. They also, you're gonna leave it there. But what happened to the land? Okay, we had a mortgage, he bought it for $11,000, and he had a mortgage of $3,000. Of course, in those days it was a lot of money. And the bank foreclosed, so he couldn't even get what money he had. Of course, he didn't have the money to pay up the mortgage, and the neighbors, all the Caucasian neighbors, they're all waiting because they all know how much money you owe, and they'll go mortgage cancelation, they can pick up the note, and all they got to do is sign. And all you hear stories about the neighbors, they block up their driveway and your driveway because they don't want people coming in there to take the farm equipment and steal this and that, because they're gonna buy this place. They knew exactly when you would leave, everything is pre-arranged for them. They knew when you... because the sign is there, okay? So that was all the Japanese families, and of course, I told the story about, you know, they loaded the truck in Florin area to go to the train station, just a short distance to Fresno, you know, a few hours, but like most people, they've never been on train, but leave everything behind, you know, it goes on and on. So on a given day, my father makes sure everybody was there in line. You can only carry what you can carry,
SL: How many children did he have at that time?
WI: He had eight children.
SL: Already?
WI: Already, yeah. Okay, so he's going into camp. And then the ninth was born in Kenner after the war in the '50s. So that was the beginning of the tragedy, but we're children, see. So we got the parents, huh? So it was not bad, they would say. But we knew what they were going through. Three, four years old, you know, what can you do? My sisters were all older, they're like teenagers, so they took care of us, okay. But we're just like one family out of those in a Florin area, see? Okay, we get to... you liquidate, you get what you can, everything else, just leave it, okay? Because somebody's gonna take it anyway. Some people put things in storage areas of the Buddhist church and all that, but they got vandalized, things like that.
SL: Was your family practicing Buddhists?
WI: Yes, all the children, we're all born Buddhists, born Buddhists. Okay, and then we became Christian, you know, by the time I was in high school. And a lot of the reasons why I succeeded in my life is very strong. Nothing's gonna stop me. The inside was so strong, and it's the Buddhist portion of it. You put yourself number one, you know, you don't drink, smoke, you know, take drugs, and et cetera, and steals others, okay. And then we, in a short period of time, within one day, you get off the train in Fresno, and they put you in a horse stable two horse stables. And they got you sacks, you know. So you got to go get hay to put in it. So that's where the words came out when young people said, "Well, I'm going home, I'm gonna hit the hay, I'm gonna hit the sack," they couldn't go sleep, because that's where everybody was. And of course, we're children, so, you know, parents, if it was time to eat, we'd go eat and we don't complain about the food, you know, just eat what you can.
SL: This was at Fresno Assembly Center?
WI: Yeah.
SL: And how long were you there, about?
WI: I would say, in months, I would say maybe nine, ten months, the camp, you have to look at records to prove that. They put us on the train for four days, five nights, because all was ridden, you know, and you know, in the train is black train, it's rickety, worn out wooden seats, no bathroom, you know, you go in and you can see the railroad track, you know, stuff like that. And the food was just so-so.
SL: And did you know where you were going?
WI: Oh, yeah. And then people in Fresno said, "Arkansas?" They'd get a map, Arkansas, they kind of look, that's a long ways, you know, again, and that was... then other ten camps, it was the same thing, okay, but I mentioned it in my talk, that about, because, you know, I became an army officer, so I knew about things, and I mentioned in my talk, very important, that the, after Pearl Harbor was hit, okay, by June of '42 we're going into camp. Okay, and this Wake Island, correction, Midway Island, the Japanese are going to take it, so they have a midpoint from Japan to the United States, because they said the general in Hawaii knew that they're not going to attack Hawaii. It's fortified. And at that time, all the Japanese Americans, all my Hawaiian friends, they told us their family, they were, they helped with the war effort. Come on, Japan, what are you doing? Okay, they discussed it, and in my book, I said, I want to get a story about a civilian living there, and it's a good story about this lady, the child, Japanese planes coming in, and it's in the book, got that story. So that was good
But anyway, that general told the general in California, he says, "The Battle of Midway is over. They don't have the warships to go, they need the halfway point, they know they don't have the equipment, the ships, battleship carrier to go to California. In fact, they're calling back to Japan, all broken up. For them to go, and you are right now in June of '42 and you're not putting them in camp." He said, "You don't have to." And as an army officer, I research all this stuff. And he says, and the reason why is because that general in Hawaii were very emphatic, he says, "You want to put Japanese into, Americans into camp. We got so many Japanese Americans here that you don't have enough ships, plus there's no, there's no sabotage, no espionage." They're running all over the place, they could get, not a single one.
SL: But of course you didn't know this while you were in... this was your later research.
WI: We're kids, we don't know what's happening, you know. The war was going on.
SL: Yeah, what was your father doing in camp? Did he have a position?
WI: Yeah, he was a camp manager because he knew his, Japanese and English, but lots of those people in camp, that the confusion, they only spoke Japanese, so that, you know...
SL: So he was a very helpful multilingual coordinator.
WI: Yeah, he's a manager, yeah. Anyway, we stayed there, and but and of course we didn't know about the rest of the world, you know, we don't know about what's happening in Japan with the war, we just get tidbits. But anyway, we went to Jerome where you have that statue right now, you know the monument, the one with the train station right there, the trains, that's where they stop. There's no station on it, they stop, you walk, get off, you cross the street, you're in camp. Okay, that's the beginning of that. And then, of course, the local people, they didn't know, they didn't know about the Japanese, but there was no place to escape. After a while, even in Jerome, and then we got even more, you know, they had the guard tower, guard towers, and they have the fence, nobody escaped. And then by that time the government said, "Oh, maybe," the military, "Maybe we made a mistake." The guard tower, there's nobody else up there no more. Number, we're kids, we'd go up there. I played one day, and I fell and broke my arm. They take me to fix my arm. And the fence falls down. Then, where are you gonna escape? All ten camps, where are you going to escape with your Japanese face? Where you going to go? You had the food, all ten camps. The people in the camp, they raised their own food. At the beginning, I know that my father was, they complained when they got to Jerome, no rice, lot of potato, huh? Okay, and then pretty soon they changed it.
And then since you had the earth there, it was bad, like say small plant, but at least you could grow food. And that was the beginning of mostly the other ten camps, the inmates, internees, they started farming. They were so good that there were some farms in one of those camps. They had a storage area underneath. And some of those camps, they shipped it out to other people, other camps, and they also gave it to the U.S. Army, the production was so high.
SK: So people like your father were experienced farmers, and they're very intelligent, so they knew what they were doing. I did want to ask, did you come into contact with African Americans? Had you, did you have contact with the outside?
WI: No, because as we come into the, on the train into Arkansas, you could look out, and of course we're kids, but adults looked out there, and they see all the poor black people and white people on the railroad track, they're poor, man, and you know, Japanese American, you got good clothes, but you're going to camp, and they kind of felt sorry for them. I mean, they were in bad shape. Okay, so that was when they got to Jerome, of course, the food got better, then pretty soon, within a few, several months, we got shipped to Rohwer.
SL: Do you know what the reason was that your family got shipped to Rohwer?
WI: Yeah, because they're going to vacate Jerome, and they didn't say it today, but Jerome was given to the German prisoner of war, okay, so we had to move, that was the reason. And then they didn't mention that, but the German prisoner of war, when they got there, oh, what a wonderful place. Buildings, a mess hall, they have bathrooms, you know, I mean, it was really first class. And then, where are they going to escape to? And they all, they're victims of the war, all good people, you know, there's nothing wrong, their race, you know, they're just Germans that happened to be there. And there's there's one story is they like to go hunting, but they don't have a gun, so asked some of the guards, "Can we borrow your gun? We'll bring it back, we're gonna go hunting." "Oh yeah, I want it back now." And you'll go shoot, they bring it back.
SL: What are they hunting for?
WI: Squirrels and rabbits, anything you can cook, you know.
SL: That's a fun, that's an interesting story.
WI: Okay, I never heard that, but it's true. And then you give the weapon back. "Okay, thanks."
SL: Did you go hunting or fishing?
WI: No, we're children.
SL: Yeah, well, you were growing up.
WI: No, no, you don't go anywhere.
SL: Did you play ball or did you...
WI: Yeah, just a little bit, but you know, by that age the football, baseball, that's older kids
SL: You were too young. So at some point Rohwer closed, and your family had to make some decisions.
WI: Rohwer is closing, and if I recall right, you had to leave within a certain, few months. I mean, it's gonna close. Well, good. Where are you gonna go? But wherever you go, we're gonna give you twenty dollars per person? So that my father, including my parents, they got two hundred dollars. So they said a few families went to New Orleans area, to just see if we can start a new life. And we went down and they found a duplex, you know, near a naval station, but brand new, and you could rent it for sixty dollars.
SL: And where was this?
WI: This is New Orleans.
SL: In New Orleans.
WI: Yeah, in a duplex. Recently, last year I went by with my weightlifting friends, said, "Let me show you where I lived eighty years ago." "What you mean eighty years ago?' Hey, the war is, it ended in 1945, eighty years, that's where I lived." "Oh, come on." Okay, all Caucasian, actually, you know. And they're sympathetic, "No kidding? You got to tell them the story."
SL: I'm really struck by this choice of New Orleans. Now, Arkansas, they didn't stay in Arkansas, not Mississippi, not Georgia.
WI: Okay, the reason my parents did. Okay, and they stuck to it. Like, just not too many families now. But most of them are like my father. He says, yeah, they'll give you a ticket to California, plus, California don't want you back anyway. He said, if we got off the train with eight children...
SL: Eight children.
WI: And they drop you off in Sacramento or wherever, who's going to meet you? I mean, who's your contact? He's like, okay, and he could see that in children and food and everything. So he says, and so they talked about it, so there was no use going back. There's nothing going back to. So, if you go to New Orleans, major story in your life. But the biggest push of those few families, handful of families that went, they're gonna, like my parents, they go for education, college education. With children, you know, I'm now third grade, fourth grade, and every meal, round table, so everybody face each other, always talking about grades, you got to go to, you know, study a little bit more, always used to get sick of it. And the good stories, of course, like I said, that eight out of nine children got a college education.
SL: Amazing.
WI: And my oldest sister graduated high school by 1950 and she had to go work, and she's the one that says, you know, you're white or black, you know, she put "white," and she got a job, everything after that.
SL: I see.
WI: She had put Japanese American.
SL: Because Louisiana was still segregated,
WI: Segregated, and the people, she put "Japanese," they don't know, hire.
SL: They didn't even know what that was.
WI: No, they didn't know anyway.
SL: Yeah.
WI: But they knew black and white, so that was a, that was a turning point. And we thought that maybe my parents also said that maybe the people wouldn't be so prejudiced against the Japanese, they'd be sympathetic, you know.
SL: Was that true?
WI: He said not really. You go out, he, you got to go get a job. I mean, after $20 they give you per is going to run out. And a lot of people, they're sympathetic. What can you do? I can work an incubator at night, you know, I can make cuttings in a nursery, I can do this and that, and I can do carpenter work.
SL: And he did all that?
WI: Behind the scene, they don't want to see your face. You work at the cleaners, dry cleaners, always, they don't say it, but everbody knew that you get a job where people don't see you, you know, because they needed your labor, because labor is good. So that's that was the beginning of it.
SL: How about your sisters, who were now working?
WI: No, only one. And, oh, next sister, she went there, we went outside of New Orleans, and there's Kenner, huh? So we had to move to another place because my father had to keep moving from one shack to another. But we had one sister there that we went to what we called Kenner High School. By that time, I'm in the fourth, fifth grade. And every day we go to school, you go to get hit on. I mean, you get called names, and here come the white kids, always couple them, you know, bumped you. You'd be carrying your books, the girl from behind will knock it out, and you just pick it up and keep going. And then, but there's a good point to this story, is... and then in the school room, you got the answer, you raise your hand, you don't get called on. But when you get the grades, all my sisters say the same thing, it's always one grade lower. But we, we stuck in there because parents said, "You got to get out of school," they didn't say what grades or nothing, So, but anyway, my sister, she's the valedictorian. I mean, this is like five years after the war, she got a scholarship to go to LSU, so it's in the next town, 60 miles away, you pack it in a little, you know, you don't have a suitcase, you know, you got a paper bag, and you take your clothes and all that, and she says, in the years that she's there, then you go to LSU, you know, you got to get a job.
SL: When she was at LSU, did she know any other Japanese Americans?
WI: There's no Japanese Americans, no, there's nothing, zero. See, you're still poor. In the story, the shoes wears out, you put a cardboard in it, and you know, stuff like that. And she was the first of the going to college, then third one, and one time my father had four in college and I was one of them. And he started a landscape business in Baton Rouge, and who's going to give you a job? Yeah. Oh, but they heard that, hey, they got Japanese gardeners in California high demand. Because they were good at it, and that they come out of camp, that's all they could do. So became good gardeners, but not just the elders, the generation, you know, their children, they got an education, because the parents didn't get education. So they're no more different than my parents. They push education, I mean, you get sick of it. But, you know, the bottom line is eight out of nine got college education too. Remember the story about the four boys. I'm the oldest. We were going to college. I'm graduating college. Before you get out, my parents said, "Which service you going to go into? Which service? They were drafting anyway, and I was drafting age. So I went to Southwestern to get a degree. I went to LSU in Baton Rouge, and the campus was big, you're nothing, you're one of two hundred students, you're just nothing.
SL: This was 1952 now?
WI: No, this is now '55.
SL: '55.
WI: War is over ten years, and the professors, you know, you're Asian, and you're Japanese, you know, but they don't say it, but you know it's on their face. So somebody said, "Why don't you go to Southwestern where the Acadiana people came from? The Cajun people, they call them Cajun, but they were run out of Nova Scotia two hundred years ago. They're settled down there. I went down there, and I became very popular there, because I was the first national champion the school ever had in any sport. And then graduation time comes, you know, the president of the school, he likes me, you know, you know, and the story is, you know, he held my diploma, and everybody waited, because when it came to me, he stopped. And everybody was looking, and I kind of looked up at him, kind of looked down me, and he said, "You're the first Asian Cajun to ever graduate." And of course, to this day, I'm the "Asian Cajun," and everybody just laughs about it.
SL: And that was your moniker.
WI: Yeah.
SL: Now, excuse my ignorance. At Southwestern
WI: Western.
SL: Louisiana Institute.
WI: Yeah, it's SLI.
SL: SLI. Did you have African Americans?
WI: No.
SL: It was just all white?
WI: I'm the only one in the school.
SL: The Asian Cajun.
WI: First to graduate there because it was still segregated, because the Blacks had their university. Same as, you know, when I went to Istrouma High School, I'm the only Asian...
SL: Asian Cajun.
WI: Asian in the whole school of twelve hundred, of white, see.
SL: And that is Istrouma High School.
WI: Yeah, Istrouma, yeah.
SL: But you were also an athlete.
WI: Well, I started weightlifting. Because somebody, the weightlifting coach, come up to you. "You ever weightlift?" I said, "What's that?" He said, "Well, there's three lifts." And then he said, "Go to the squat position." He says, "Your back, you ever heard of a guy named Tommy Kono?" "No." "You should have, because he's a, he was released from Tule Lake, and he started weightlifting a little bit there." And seven years after he came out, he won some national, he's an Olympic champion in Helsinki. And they got pictures of him with the American flag, everything, he's a true American. And I learned a lot from him, and that's why my attitude became so strong, that we are who we are, and we don't have to be proud of it, but you know, when you look at me, I'm Japanese, the whole book is about that. I know I'm different, but they could never put me down, they couldn't put 'em down, and that was the beginning, right there, of my life. At Southwestern, and by 1960, I graduated. And, of course, I won the National Collegiate three times, and the last one was, I was at University of Maryland, and they go by weight classes, and I won my weight class, but then they pick out the best lifter overall for the amount of weight, your body weight and amount of weight, so I was best lifter in the United States. Okay, thank you.
SL: That's amazing.
WI: But you don't talk about it even in those days. Okay, thank you, and you go home, you know, you move on.
SL: Well, let me ask you, you were now being exposed to a little bigger pool, right? Did you ever think about going back to California or moving?
WI: No, no, of course not. You know, your family's in, they're in Baton Rouge. California, what's in California? We got some relatives there, they're farming, and they're barely making ends meet, but that was the beginning of our Imahara empire. From then on, our garden centers, the landscape jobs, everything, people gave it to us, Imahara. Because they knew about my background, but they also knew about my father's background. And then they say, "Look at the work they do," it was superior.
SL: You had a reputation.
WI: Okay, they charge a little bit more. Let's negotiate. I mean, we started getting contracts that... and we can't do anything about low bid. Low bid is a little bit less, and that's what it looked like. Always a little, always higher, but they knew about it. You know, my niece would tell you, I mean, we'd get the biggest jobs, I mean, like Jimmy Schweig, we got Baton Rouge General, and we're still there.
SL: And you were partnering now with your dad after you finished college?
WI: Yeah. And then after that, everything got good. I graduated college, I had to go into the army, and I spent... then I went to OCS to get a commission. And really, I went in and they didn't tell me, but you know that you got, the odds of you getting through OCS are not good. Six were Caucasian, and you're Japanese, and then the war just ended fifteen years ago, and the army people kind of, they knew about the war with Japan, and people they lost, and all that. But anyway, I got through, and it's because of my ability to break all the OCS records. And I broke them slowly, and everybody laughs, "Why you do this slowly?" Because every time you make it, they change the date and your name stays up there and it gets higher. You see, so you don't want to break records, all the big... no, take your time. [Laughs] Everybody laughed. I got through. And the story is the Berlin crisis that our beginning, they took all the officers, we all got our second lieutenant and all that, all dressed. They put us in a room at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. We're specially trained for air observer, observed artillery rounds with special training. They shut that door, and we knew something was wrong. They had one officer in there, he says it's a secret, it's not top secret, but it's a secret. This class is going to Germany. All those things that you were, you wanted to do, fly helicopter, no, this class is going to Germany. There's a Berlin crisis, that's all you're going to be told. You don't know where you go, and that's a story about me going to Dachau. And that's really a tragic thing, and when I got there, gee whiz.
SL: Had you heard about it before?
WI: You know, you hear about concentration camps and all that. And then I go there, I'm like the first Japanese American soldier officer on camp. And the higher up, they knew about my background, but I was still an officer, so they, you know, so I was treated good, you know, as an officer. And there's no disrespect, because we're ready to go to war now, and we're part of NATO. A lot of things I'm telling you here, just coming out, that for first fifty years we couldn't talk about it, but we had nuclear capability on that post, because we're part of NATO. It's small technical nuclear weapons, you know, not much damage, you know, but still nuclear, you know, 25 miles, you could shoot it in a little blast, you know. Now we can talk about it, because for the first fifty years they told us, "Don't talk about it." Now the war is, we're part of NATO. I was weightlifting, and my German friends, all young, running around, they happy, they're drinking beer, they work out. "Wait, now, how come you guys are not in the service?" "No service, no, no, no." You guys are here, part of NATO. You guys beat Germany. We surrendered fifteen years ago. We have no military. We have no military obligation." I said, wait now, but we're ready to go to war at the Berlin Wall to protect Germany from the Russians moving in. "Hey, we appreciate it." And they drink their beer. So a lot of people don't know about it, but what, NATO's strength. Now that's sixty-five years ago. I still got my uniform, I had to get it tailored, you know, I show it off now and then at parties. But now, sixty-five years later, NATO is still very strong. I'm a military officer. Now what happened with Ukraine? A few years ago, Ukraine wanted to become part of NATO.
SL: Yes.
WI: What three nations says no? One was U.S. To us, that's the worst thing you could have ever said. If the U.S. were to say yes, Ukraine would be intact, because no one's going to attack. Russia is not going to attack. Now, what, four and a half years later, they still can't. You mean Russia cannot be a country next door? They're taking land, and it's going to be solved one day. And people like me, it's very simple. You take out a map and Russia says, we take this land here. We're in the draw line, and Ukraine, you go ahead and say yes. So let it go, so at least it gets...
SL: So you were witness to much of front page history, the Berlin Wall crisis, and you're still weightlifting, and now did you, were you part of the '60, you remember '68 and the Mexican Olympics?
WI: Yeah. No, no, I went to Mexico City in '67, right before the world championship, I come out fourth, and Miyake is my friend from Japan, he won. And I messed up at the Olympic trials, but I won in '68, the senior nationals, I won. By that time, we can open the garden center in '68. We already built the, bought the land.
SL: And this is in Baton Rouge?
WI: Baton Rouge.
SL: Okay.
WI: And people, my friends in the nursery business, "You're gonna do what? You're gonna build a garden center?" Like, you know, like where you gonna get the money, you know, like that. I had it all arranged, so I had to quit weightlifting anyway, and stopped, like one day. All my life, everything, decisions I make, is to stop and start a new thing, like most Japanese do anyway.
SL: Well, you did really well in in Baton Rouge, and there haven't been that many, still not too many Japanese Americans in Louisiana, which is --
WI: There is no Japanese Americans. Okay, is there ten? I doubt it. It's more like five. It's all family. They all left, because once they got, the children got educated to come out, that's the end of the story. And who's going to live in the South? But I didn't mind, because I was popular. I'm an Asian Cajun, and the people in Baton Rouge, when we started, they started giving us work, the Jewish people were the beginning of it. Because they knew the history, and work started coming in, and the word come, we're going to open up a garden center in '68. I gave up weightlifting in '68, I mean, we're gonna open. And people in our family says, what you gonna name it? They say Imahara, my father said, yeah, Imahara. The parts, of members of the, "You need to call it Louisiana Nursery," because you have, it's related to your nationality. But my father is, the way he came up, he's just like me. He said, "We're gonna go with Imahara." If you're gonna beat us, you're gonna have to come after us. That attitude, my whole life, attitude is a lot different than these internees. That was just the beginning, and all the accomplishments, on and on, is something new with that. It comes from the inside and the mind. And I know that's why I don't come to these talks too much, because it's, I know it's overwhelming. It's like I'm not... when you interview me, I'm Japanese American, but what about the rest of the story? What about all the associations I've been in? Goes on and on, the associations, like I'm their best friend. I mean, yeah, but you never had a Japanese American. Well, we got one now. It's not my nationality, they don't look at me as a, I mean, like they hug you, you know, and they kiss my wife, and everything, you know, it's just one of them. I mean, they can't say anything bad about us.
And there's one thing about, you know, as in this interview, that all these years, we have a lot of Caucasian friends. Food is on... in Louisiana, and on the national level in the associated business, and just a few in California, but not money, because we live, we don't live there. But anyway, it's a good story that the, about these friends, and there's one thing about Caucasian friends, they call you Imahara, they put their arm around you. When they go home, they tell their friends, "Let me tell you, this guy, he got the best garden center in the nation. I mean, you ought to go to the place. Immaculate, the green, everything's perfect, bathrooms are clean, everything, go on and on. They get the best landscape job, everything. Oh, did I tell you that they're Japanese?" No, they thought it was some Caucasian, and always bring it up at the end. They like that, you know. So, "our friends are Japanese," yeah.
SL: Japanese Americans did well, even in Louisiana. Now, you said earlier to me that you have been resistant to come back here to Rohwer and Arkansas.
WI: Yeah, because I'm good in this position to start giving you my life's history. It's written, you could Google it, everything's there.
SL: You've written a lot of books about... autobiographies, yeah,
WI: And some of it is all personal. And recently I just finished my, my autobiography, Walter. You know, it took me a couple years to do forty pages. I mean, it's nothing but photos, it's a photo album, not written, because nobody reads anything written. And I think I will, I will release one to you as, to Densho. I will do that. But no one else gets it. What few I have in Louisiana, it's a loner, because my life, I mean, from birth certificate to the end, and I just call, keep adding on, I add on in the middle, in the middle, it's my life.
SL: And it's a unique life.
WI: It's unique life.
SL: But when you came back to Jerome and Rohwer, did any memories, what did any childhood memories come back for you?
WI: No.
SL: It's changed, hasn't it?
WI: I'm four or five years old, you mean? When I left, and then all the years I come back, and we see all these same things, you know, the bustle, the people coming in, I get to meet 'em. But we don't, some of them become friends. Like the guy who's 100 years old, Miyamoto from...
SL: Yamamoto from...
WI: Sacramento, got to hug me and everything. But there's just a few every year, you know, four, five, six. This time I asked Jeff O. Yang, the mayor, he's a good friend of mine, you know, and I said, "Why don't you introduce him?" "What you mean?" "Just ask him to stand up and introduce himself." And he did, and everybody looked up, and all these people there stood up. Wait, wait, you mean the five or six? No, a dozen or so.
SL: There were a dozen of you at McGee when we had our lunch, yeah. Survivors.
WI: Yeah, in McGee. And a lot of these women, even women coming out, mostly men survived, now the women, and then where did it come? The owner went� into... they didn't go to Jerome, they went to Rohwer. Wait, wait, no, can't do that. You got to come from Jerome. We could ship. All of a sudden I'm getting new stories, and I made a big mistake because one of those ladies gave me a nice story from Los Angeles, and I said, "There's something wrong with your story." I don't like to edit it, but you came to Rohwer. You mean you came to Jerome, and you went to Rohwer. Because my information I had was different. After a couple of exchanges, says, "I'm not going to give you the story."
SL: So you talked about Jeff O. Yang being your friend, and he's the Chinese American mayor of McGee.
WI: Yeah.
SL: I'm just telling the tape that, what you and I know, so here are two Southern Asian Americans.
WI: No, no, no, no, you're wrong.
SL: How's that?
WI: Because Jeff, I said, "Where were you born?" He said, "Oh, I come from San Jose, my parents were." I said. "What are you doing down here?" "Oh, I came down here because of the opportunity to maybe go into the insurance business," on a different scale of what he was doing. And the opportunity was there, and that's how you can... yeah, I came down here, I liked it.
SL: No, his grandfather was down here, he had grocery store in Arkansas.
WI: Yeah, yeah, it was some time, but no, he's a California guy.
SL: Well, you're a California-born.
WI: But no, but that was as a child, he was an adult.
SL: He came as a child.
WI: A child?
SL: Yeah.
WI: Okay, but anyway.
SL: With his, with his parents to meet with his grandparents, to work in his grandparents' store.
WI: Okay, you got that straight. Then got married and stayed down here.
SL: As you did, yeah.
WI: So my friendship with him was just because of the internment.
SL: The Jerome camp experience, the committee, excuse me.
WI: Yeah.
SL: Well, thank you so much, Mr. Imahara. You're an unusual story in the Japanese American spectrum, but we're all unique, and we all have different stories.
WI: Well, what you heard is just that portion.
SL: Absolutely. Just one-tenth of your life.
WI: And when you read the book, and the rest of stuff from everything from all the Hall of Fame I'm in...
SL: You want to show the book?
WI: And things like that, It's a... this shows it. But my autobiography covers it pretty good. This is a lot of words in here, some pictures, my autobiography is nothing but pictures, because it's situations, you know, from date of birth.
SL: Well, we look forward to it.
WI: Yeah, I think you will enjoy it.
SL: Absolutely.
WI: So I'm glad I did this interview, otherwise, if you didn't ask, I may not have ever done this.
SL: We thank you very much.
WI: Yeah.