SL: This is the Densho oral history project. My name is Susie Ling. Today is May 23, 2026. We are at the Jerome Rohwer Reunion of 2026 and I have the great honor of being with Mr. Mits Yamamoto. Thank you for doing this, Mr. Yamamoto.

MY: Of course. I'm not too much of a subject, but I'm here.

SL: Oh, I think you're you, you're more than humble. Why don't we start with your family background? You're a Sansei or Nisei?

MY: I'm a Nisei.

SL: Uh-huh.

MY: I was born in 1926 in....

SL: Wait, did we hear 1926?

MY: Yeah.

SL: So you are 100 this year.

MY: I made 100.

SL: Congratulations.

MY: Thank you. Yeah, I technically, you know, my problem -- not problem, but my dad was fifty when I was born, so by the time we got out of camp, I was nineteen, but he was sixty-nine, and he was a farmer all his life. So with three years' rest, why, I mean, he was in no condition to get back to work. And at nineteen I'm trying to....

SL: Become the man and take care of your parents, yeah.

MY: So I'm not complaining, you know, it's just....

SL: It is. It is a burden on a young man.

MY: It's a fact.

SL: Yeah, it is a fact. Tell us about him. Where was he from, and how, why did he come to America?

MY: You know, that's a good, good thing. I didn't know when he came to America until just a few months ago. A friend of mine, oh, we went to Manzanar where they interviewed me, and they gave me a whole bunch of literature. And looking through them, I found out my dad first came over in 1899 and I guess he went back to Japan. I don't.... I didn't see where he went back to Japan, but he came back around late 1919, you know, somewhere around 1919, '18 somewhere, because my mother came over in 1921. So he went after her, got married, and she came, they came back separately. And we were living, well, actually we were living near the Antioch area, that's down in the Delta, and --

SL: California Delta.

MY: Yeah, I can't imagine. He was working. My dad was working for a big farmer, and obviously a rich farmer, because in the 1920s, I mean, who had a car? [Laughs]

SL: Okay, okay. Do you know the name of the farmer?

MY: Mr. Tsukide. Yeah, T-S-U-K-I-D-E. Anyway, the reason I say he had a car is because I was born in Sacramento. I mean, how did I get to Sacramento, you know? So I assume, and obviously he took me down there, or took my mother down there, got back. But as time went on, my mother was a, she wanted education for the kids. I have a sister that's three years older than me, and she was getting to the age where school starts, and down there, the school is very far away, and like I said, there's no transportation, no busses, you know. So she had a cousin living in Elk Grove, and said that obviously they were communicating, I didn't know, but the communication was that there's a farm going to be open, or is open now, because the family went to Salinas. So there's a farm open, so why don't you guys come up, or whatever. And, of course, my mother jumped at it, because school is nearby. And so I think it was probably in the late 1920s or somewhere in that area. We moved to Sacramento, Elk Grove, and thereby we were closer to school, and my mother was satisfied. [Laughs]

SL: I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your parents' names.

MY: Oh, my dad's name was Tamehachi, and he was from Shikoku Island. He was actually Kagawa-ken. And my mother's name is Asako, and her last, actually her name was Kaneta, but she was from Yamaguchi, Mitajiriya, from what I understand. But other than that, like everybody else, we didn't ask much more, you know. I regret to this day that I didn't ask more about our past, but well, that's how it goes. That's why I ask, and I tell, and I tell everybody, Ask your parents about everything, because when they're gone, it's gone," you know. And I know.

MY: What were their personalities like, your father and mother?

SL: My father was kind of, I mean, he was, he came when he was, well, he was born in 1876, so he was twenty-three when he got here. So he, I don't think.... in them days they didn't have, they didn't have too much education. I mean, you know, they just grew up, you know, my mother didn't have that much, too, but she was more or less in.... kind of a more city kind of thing, so she was more into education, and although she didn't have it, she wanted her kids to have it.

SL: So they knew that that was really important for you and your sister. Are there other children, or just you and your sister?

MY: Me and my sister is the only two.

SL: So you went to Elk Grove.

MY: Yeah, actually I went to... well, that's, you know, this is a funny story. In the olden days, the strawberry patches, especially... I don't know about the other places, but in our area the irrigation system was not like it is now, where it's just the little shallow ditches. They used to be about a foot wide and a foot and a half deep, and you know, well, Issei women had to cook, but then go help the father. As a toddler, I have to go out there, too, and as I get tired, I just lay down wherever it's comfortable, and that was the most comfortable place to be. And they had a hard time looking for me, you know, can't find me.

SL: Because you're so small.

MY: Yeah, and that kind of haunted me, because when my cousin turned six, my mother said, "Why don't you go with him? If they don't take you, why, come on home." But at five years old, I went with him, and they took me, so I went to school at the age of five. And in 1942, I had, I was going to Earl Grove High School, and I had about maybe a couple weeks to go to finish my junior class, and, well, that was it, you know. We got on a bus and went, we didn't know where, but we went to Fresno.

SL: Let's back up a little bit. So, you went to elementary school early because you had this cousin. Did you work on the farm, in the strawberry farm yourself?

MY: Later, yes.

SL: Oh.

MY: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

SL: And what was the community like in Elk Grove? Were there other Japanese Americans?

MY: There was a lot of Japanese. In fact, there was enough Japanese there to have a Japanese school. So, you know, as a young youngster, why, we had to go five days to regular school, and then Saturday we went to Japanese school. But, of course, as I grew older, going to school on Saturday was a treat, because otherwise I'd have to work at home. [Laughs] So to this day, I regret I didn't study.

SL: You just enjoyed yourself at the gakuen. What kind of work would you be expected to do?

MY: Excuse me?

SL: What kind of farm work would you be expected to do if you were not at the gakuen?

MY: Whatever it takes to run the strawberry farm, you know, whatever my dad's doing, why, I'd be helping. So, you know, as a teenager, you know, they expected, I mean, I don't blame them, but they expected anybody to help.

SL: And that's all they grew? Strawberries?

MY: Yeah.

SL: And how, what was the acreage? Do you know, or they...

MY: Just a small place, maybe a couple acres? Yeah.

SL: Did your father own the land or lease the land?

MY: Yeah, he leased the land, yes.

SL: But he leased it for a long time, it sounds like.

MY: Well, I don't know how they, you know, how long or how, whatever they do, but we were there from, like I said... yeah, like I said, from early '30s to 1942.

SL: This was during the Depression. Did you, did your family feel that economic stress?

MY: You know, that's where... how can I put it? I myself didn't know depression, because they provided food and clothing and everything else. I mean, you know, as a kid, as long as you have something to eat, I mean, you're not worried, and I was at that stage where, you know, I...

SL: You didn't care.

MY: So I didn't know. I mean, depression was... what is depression, you know? But thinking back now, I don't see how they did it. I really can't see how they did it with the language barrier, and, you know, cultural differences, I mean, how did they do it? I really can't understand, but I really give credit to all the Isseis that came down.

SL: You know, I forgot to ask, you said your father was older than you. What about your mother? What was the gap between your father and mother?

MY: My, well, my birth certificate says that my dad was fifty and she was twenty-seven.

SL: Okay, so there was a gap.

MY: Yeah, yeah.

SL: But they married in Japan?

MY: I think so.

SL: It was an arranged...

MY: I don't have those marriage license to prove it, but somehow they got married there, and he came back, and then she came back a few years or whenever.

SL: What was life like at Elk Grove High School for you? Were you...

MY: Well, you know, like I said, Elk Grove High School, people that went to Elk Grove High School was from the Elk Grove area and the Florin area, so there was quite a few Japanese there, and so it's a big family.

SL: Well said. So at that time, you did not feel racial discrimination?

MY: No, until December 7th, yeah.

SL: How did you... what was December 7th like for your family?

MY: Well, you know, of course, in them days, you know, no television, you know, no telephone... well, telephone, but only certain people had a... so we didn't. And although how or why, I did have a radio, and somewhere, I still can't imagine, I still don't remember when or how I heard it, but then we found out. But that was Sunday, and Monday was kind of tough going to school. The problem was I had to catch a bus. The bus came from... we lived, I was the last one on the bus, in other words, I mean, the bus came from far away, and I was the last one on the bus, and as I got on the bus, why, nobody said anything. You could feel the daggers looking at you, but nobody said anything. I mean, all it was was, I guess, mental or whatever, you know. They're looking at you, you know, and everything else. And even at school, I mean, as you walk, you get stared at or something like that, but then nobody actually, you know, did anything to make you feel bad, but it's just, I guess, inside of you, you know, you feel, I don't know what, but it just...

SL: And then Executive Order 9066 happens.

MY: Yeah, and then now you can't drive more than so many miles, and well, let's...

SL: Did you break the curfew? You were a young man.

MY: Well, see, I never drove or anything, so there's no way I could break the curfew, but yeah, I, still, you know, can't imagine my folks, especially my dad, you know, at the time. Because when the final moment came, actually our landlords, or whatever you want to call it, that we were leasing the land from, he took us to the railroad station. And as we got on the, his car and drove off, why, this was May, so strawberries was right at the peak, and we see the red strawberries as we go by. I mean, you wait all year for one crop, and, you know, we're just leaving it alone, and I can't imagine what my father or my parents felt at that time. Me, I just looked at it as ripe strawberries, but you know, for them, I mean, that was their life.

SL: So the landlord was sort of kind in... was he kind in helping your family move to Fresno?

MY: Oh, yeah, I mean, he, my folks were really, they helped each other, and they were really good about it.

SL: Did you ever see him again?

MY: My dad?

SL: No, the landlord.

MY: When we got back, yes. Well, that's... you've heard that you only could go with one suitcase, you know? I mean, you're supposed to only go with one, and they only gave you a few weeks or months to get rid of all your property. Well, try to make a yard sale or something, but then all the people come and look at the material, "And I want a dollar for this or fifty cents for that," but they all came and looked at it and said, "Hmm, okay. Why should I pay you fifty cents today when I could get it tomorrow for nothing?" It seems that that's how, may not been their feeling, but that's how we were, because they didn't want to buy anything, you know. But we were told to pack up things and create it, or whatever, and take it to government storage, and you'll be safe. And we did some half of the thing, and half of the thing we left it with our landlord. Well, everything that we put in government storage was all ransacked and gone, whereas everything that our landlord had was all there.

SL: What was his name?

MY: King, I think the name was... I can't remember her name, but it's King, and the son or son-in-law's name was Russell. For some reason, I remember those two names. I don't really know, you know, I can't remember.

SL: It's nice to know there were some decent neighbors.

MY: Yeah, yeah.

SL: How were you feeling when you were, you know, at the Fresno Assembly Center?

MY: Well, you know, I'm at the right age, you know. Like I said, if I was home, I'm working now. I don't have to do anything. I'm a greedy person, you know. I think of myself, but then again, I was right at the right age in camp, or when you go there, you're able to work when you're 16 washing dishes or something. It was kind of funny, too, a friend of mine looked up records somehow and said that, "Here's your time card," showed me a time card, and it showed that I don't know what month it was, but you say you worked 155 hours that month and got $8. [Laughs] So it was... but then at home, even if you helped, I mean, sure, they gave you money to go buy what you need, but you never got paid, right? No, I got $8. This is kind of, you know, going against everything, but I'm talking about me, as me, you know, at sixteen, but everything, every time I got that $8 or $16 at the final relocation center, well, you know, $16 there, but then everything, every time I got it, well, I give it to my mom.

SL: I'm sure they appreciated that, yeah. So in essence, you didn't get any money anyways, because you had to give it to your parents.

MY: But you feel kind of good because you're contributing.

SL: So you actually can, then you went to Jerome. Was it a long train ride for you?

MY: Well, it was like... well, I don't know how long it was, but my recollection was four days, four nights, you know. Put the window shades down. Of course, we peeked, but it was four days, four nights, and if you can imagine a train car with every seat filled with one bathroom, and at night with the old people snoring and the little kids crying. I mean, just think about it. [Laughs]

SL: And you were, your future was so uncertain.

MY: Yeah, yeah. But then me and my buddy, we walked up and down the train, I mean, I guess we were allowed to, because we did walk, and then one, I think it was the last, next to the last day we walked to the Pullman car, and we found out a friend of ours was a, I don't know what you call, captain of the Pullman, or whatever.

SL: He was a porter?

MY: No, no, it's one of us, you know.

SL: Okay.

MY: I guess they assigned somebody for each car to kind of take charge. Anyway, it so happened that it was a friend of ours. "How you guys doing?" He says, "Well, we can't sleep at night," but he said, "Hey, there's one upper berth that's open." So we slept in the upper berth the last night, and we got a nice sleep. [Laughs] Those are some of the things that I remember.

SL: How many cars of Japanese were there? Because you walked up and down.

MY: You know, I can't imagine how much it was. I was looking at one of the records of people going from Jerome. We went to Gila, so people going from Jerome to Gila, and they said five hundred so I assume it was five hundred. And you know, I don't know how many cars it was. In fact, the funny part is, somebody asked me, what did you eat in the... and I cannot remember one meal there. I know we ate, but it's funny. Another funny thing, last month we went to Stockton, they have a big, I understand it was a hospital. The Stockton Assembly Center's Hospital is a big, looked like an airplane hangar. Anyway, they're going to make it a national, trying to make it a national park, you know. And we went down there, and amongst all the things, here was this, he was a young fellow, you know, he had a, made a train, you know, like the one that we had, he just carried it around like this, and when he heard that I was old enough to know, well, he asked me things. And I says, "You know, there's one thing I don't understand, is I can't remember one meal on the train." And he says, "I got a menu." I says, "Oh man, I'd sure like to see it." Not only that, he said he wanted to talk to me about all this, and I says, yeah, I want to talk to... [Laughs] So the more you talk with more different people, I mean, there's something that somebody knows that you didn't know, and so on and so forth, you know.

SL: So, a collective memory is coming together.

MY: Yeah.

SL: I assume you did not take a bath or wash?

MY: No.

SL: That's... did you know where you were going?

MY: No. It's just like when we got on the plane... plane.

SL: Train.

MY: Train in Elk Grove, I mean, we didn't know where we were going, and then stopped. So we got off, and we didn't even know what or where, but it was the Fresno Fairgrounds. Well, when we got on there to go to Jerome, why, we didn't know until we got off. And we got off, there it is.

SL: I can't even imagine. It must have been so desolate, and you're an American kid, you know, what's going on? You must have been so confused.

MY: Yeah, you don't know. They don't tell you until you're there.

SL: So you went to Denson High School?

MY: Yes.

SL: What was that like?

MY: There's, yeah, that whole... what is that like? Well, first of all, we went... was in Fresno from May till October, and October we went to... we got here in Jerome, and then all that while I got a job in the mess hall. Well, in December of '42 they said that you can't work no more, you got to go to school. Because, see, I'm sixteen, so I had to quit work and go to school. That's good and bad, you know. But okay, now I gotta study, so I go to go to school, and they looked and said, "Sixteen, you're a sophomore." I said, "Wait a minute, I only had two more weeks to go to finish my.." "No, look, you're sixteen." After I, you know, yelled and everything else, they finally said, "Okay, we'll make you a high sophomore." Big deal, right? So, obviously, like in May, or must have been late May, obviously, they got a transcript from their school, and they had a whole bulletin board full of eligible graduates, and guess whose name was on it? So I hate to say "graduate," I said, "I got a diploma without ever being a senior." How many people have never been a senior and get a diploma? And I'm a dumb guy. [Laughs]

SL: But you didn't have books or teachers. I'm curious, how they can they have a high school without...

MY: I know, I know. I don't really, really... we studied it and everything, and we had a teacher, but the teacher mostly was camp, people who was in college or graduated college. They were the teachers, and there's outside people, too, between the outside people and the camp elders, you know, that graduated from college and such, they were the teachers. And like you say, I don't think I learned a heck of a lot there.

SL: Interesting. Now we know that Jerome and Rohwer and this area has a lot of African Americans. At the time, did you have any relations with the African American community in this area?

MY: This area?

SL: In Arkansas.

MY: We were inside, so I never even tried to get outside, so I've never... but there is a... after I graduated, or after I got my diploma, I started working. I was a clerk for agriculture. He was a big southern guy, you know, with boots on, with a big hat, you know, and I was working for him. And one day he says, "I'm going outside past Jerome. You want to go out?" Oh, wow, yeah. He said, "You don't want to go by yourself." He said, "Why don't you go back and get a friend?" So I went back to my block, and, hey, you know, I got one guy, and so he made all the arrangements, and we got on his car, and we went out. We went to Jerome, the town of Jerome, where supposedly he let us off on one end of the town, and he says, "I'll pick you up." This was probably about 11 o'clock. Says, "I'll pick you up in a couple hours." So you know, enjoy. So we got off the car and looked up, and we see a railroad station, you know, about 100 yards away. And we're at a gas station here, and that looks like maybe a diner, you know, what do we do for next two hours? So we walk up there, in five minutes, and he was sitting there, what shall we do so? Well, let's go eat. Okay, so we go into the diner, and it was like picnic tables and counter, and the menu up above the counter, So you know, we're looking up, and we see a man and a woman back there, which probably was a waitress and the cook, man and wife probably. And so, okay, so trying to figure out, okay, so we went and sat down, waited five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, nobody come out or anything else, and all of a sudden we didn't notice, but somebody on the side over there, sounded like somebody was out there, because he was knocking on. He looked out there and says it was a Black guy, and obviously the lady went over there, and I guess she ordered something. He went back, and a few minutes later he gave it to me and took off. Said, oh, "Hey, we're in the wrong place. Let's go out there." So we got out of there, we went to the side, and we knock, knock, knock, like he did. Obviously, we didn't eat lunch that day. On the way back, well, by that little while after that, why, my boss came by, picked us up. How was it, you know? So we told him and he just shrugged his shoulders, that was it. And like I tell everybody, everybody complains about camp food. That night it was the most delicious camp food. [Laughs] I like to tell that story to everybody.

SL: That's very interesting. Was that the one time you left the camp, or did you leave at other times?

MY: I left during the three years of confinement. Well, I was on in camp about half the time. Right after that, I went to Chicago, or I had a friend of mine who later was my brother-in-law. They have a employment office for internal jobs and outside jobs, where, you know, if you own the farm and needed fifty people for one month to harvest something, so on so forth. Well, they found one for two people, kitchen helper, so, "Let's go," you know. And I said, "Well, here I just turned seventeen, and I wanted to go, but I was scared to go, and I figured, well, instead of saying no, I'll have my mom tell us. I said, "I gotta ask my mom first," knowing that my mom would tell me I don't have to go. So I went home, and I asked my mom, said, "Oh, sure, go." Now I'm stuck. [Laughs] So anyway, I went down, went down there, and we went to Chicago, or actually was Chicago Heights, which is a suburb of Chicago. And we were working at a CYO Boys Camp at the Christian Youth Authority, which the city of City of Chicago had this little place where teenage kids could smell fresh air, you know, to get them off the sidewalk. And so I was about the same age as most of them, and but they, since it's war time, the farm labor wasn't there, the kids were all gone, so instead of getting to play around, they went to work in the farm. And after two or three weeks, we found out that they're working two or three times the money we are. And finally we said, "Hey," we told our boss, "There's something wrong here," you know. "We need a little more money. If you don't, we're going to quit." He said, "Goodbye." So we committed ourselves, so we were stuck. And if you go on a seasonal leave, if you get fired, finish a job or quit, well, you have to go straight back to camp. Well, anyways, so we got on a bus and we went into Chicago, and we stuck our luggage in the locker there and the bus station and walked around.

In the meantime, on the trip down there, we asked each other, "You know anybody in Chicago just in case?" "No." And then I remembered, I said, "I heard that a friend from Elk Grove is here in Chicago as a cook? Can you imagine looking for a cook in Chicago? If you was a waiter, you might have a chance with a cook. Anyway, forget it. So anyway, we walked around the loop there, and then about that time, of course, we're getting hungry now. There was, we see a diner there, so we said, "Let's go eat, let's go have something to eat." So of course we have some money now, because we worked and we went in there, and another, it was not a first class, you know, another menu up on top, and you know, whatever, and a couple of guys back there. And we were looking up, looking at the menu, and one of the guys turned around and says, "What can I help you with?" Boys turned around and guess who that guy was? The only guy... I know, you don't think I believe in miracles?

SL: Goodness, what a story.

MY: So he tells us, "What are you doing here?" You know all that thing. And then he said, "Where are you staying?" "I tell you what, you guys. Why don't you stay here tonight?" Said that Kunio Press is a book binding place here, they're hiring Japanese, you know, and everything else, you know. So we stayed there, and we got his advice, we went to work. We went to look where he told us to. We went out there, we got a job, and we're supposed to go back, right? Anyway, we got a job there. So now we got to find a place to stay. Well, while we were there, while we asked around, there was a lot of Japanese working there. One of the guys says, "Oh, I think somebody, there's an opening in my place." Said, "Oh, let's go." "Can we go with you?" "Sure." So, we went down there, and we got the room there. So, now we got a place to stay, and we got a job, and we worked there maybe a couple weeks or three weeks. And in them days, you know, there's no phone, we get a letter. How they got a letter to us, I don't know. They got a letter, we got a letter saying, "Report back to the WRA today, right now," you know. So we had to, not quit, but told the person, "We can't come to work tomorrow." So we went to the WRA office and we got a lecture. [Laughs] "Don't you guys know you're supposed to..." you know, all that baloney. And he says, "You guys go home right now."

SL: Were there just two of you?

MY: He says, "Go home right now."

SL: You mean go back to Jerome right now? That's not your home.

MY: Yeah, so we said, "Okay, we'll go right now. But we don't have any money. If you give us a train fare, we'll go home right now." Of course, you know that was out, and the guy looked at us. He says, "Well, I'll tell you what I'll do." He says this was like almost the end of the, end of the month. "I'll let you stay here one more month, save your money and be home by the end of next month." Okay, so we got to stay another month.

SL: Wow. So this was '44 or...

MY: This was in '43.

SL: Still in '43? Wow.

MY: Yeah. And then, so we got back, we got back, and then December, January of '44, again, my friend, or my future brother-in-law, he found a job in...

SL: Can we say his name?

MY: Sam Hironaka.

SL: He's your big buddy?

MY: Yeah, well, he's my future...

SL: Brother-in-law.

MY: Brother-in-law. Anyway, he got a job. He said there's a job in Florida, so --

SL: Becuase I was gonna say, it's kind of cold in Chicago.

MY: Yeah.

SL: -- for a California boy like you.

MY: No, that's the summertime, so it was muggy.

SL: Okay, okay, I see.

MY: So January...

SL: Then you went back to Jerome, and then you're in January '44.

MY: Now January 1, '44, we got a, he found the job and they needed six people, but then they needed two more people. So we signed up for that, and we were the advance crew, and so we signed up that day, and we left at night, you know. Went to New Orleans, Jacksonville to Tampa, and then when we went to Tampa... when we went to Tampa, why, we had about an hour layoff, we had to catch a bus to go to Sarasota. And so we said, "Let's go out, check the place out." So we went... I don't think we took five steps out of there, when two guys in a black hat and black suit flopped the wall of us. "FBI, show me your ID." You don't know how scared we were. And, "Show you me your ID," and we know we don't got an ID, like when we went out, we get a, you know, we get a thing, ID. So we're sitting there, that's all we're doing is frantically looking for the ID that supposedly we had, go to remember, we left in the afternoon. I mean, we signed up in the afternoon, left at night, and they forgot to give it to us, so we don't have any. The only thing we had was a letter of introduction to the hotel owner. So we showed him this, and he says, "Okay, I'll let you go," but he says, get an ID as soon as you can, because this is the last time," so on and so forth. So yeah, we got to Sarasota, and they picked, he picked us up and we went to the hotel, and it was a, it was a small hotel, like maybe thirty rooms or so. We were the waiters, it was six of us, one was a cook and one was a cook's helper, one was a dishwasher, and four of us were waiters and the maid. Here a seventeen-year-old kid using chopsticks all his life, you know, I mean, how do you set the table? I mean, we never made bed before. Anyway, we learned fast. But of course, I mean, with that, it sure helped me later in life.

SL: Know the world.

MY: I grew up in a hurry.

SL: I was personally surprised that there were all these Japanese waiters, you know. That must have stuck out at this hotel.

MY: At the place, yeah.

SL: Yeah.

MY: Yeah, that's a funny, funny thing, you know, because one time one of the guys, I guess, he was a businessman, he was a gruff old guy, and of course, you know, if you're a waiter, you want to do everything you can, because you're living on tips, right? And he says, "You guys, you're Japanese." "What?" and he repeated himself. Said, "What?" He says, "You're Japanese and you don't even understand Japanese?" I said, "Oh, I'm sorry." I know he wasn't speaking Japanese, but, "Sorry," I said, "I'll tell you what. Sam, my brother-in-law, he just came back from Japan, so I'll have him come out here." He came out here, same thing with him. And there was a guy who just graduated from UC Berkeley, but was one of our four, and he says, "Wait a minute, I'll get..." he did the same thing I did. He came out here. Oh, I guess we're not very smart, you know, and so on and so forth. That was really funny. We'd like to say you're full of baloney, you know what I mean? But then again, you know, there was a ladies club that came for luncheon one day, and there was about maybe eight, ten ladies, and when you're sixteen, when they're forty years old, they're old, right? But anyway, they were there, and there was one young girl there. And of course, you know...

SL: You're a young man.

MY: Yeah, so I'm waiting on everybody and everything, and I happened to walk behind her, and she turned around to me and said, "Mizu o chodai," which means, "Bring me water." I mean, clear as... so I heard it, so I took about three steps.

SL: Before you realize she's speaking Japanese to you.

MY: Yeah. So I went back there, now I got a chance to talk to her, right? I mean, I was happy, too. I went back and talked to her, and then the whole table all was set up. The whole table roared, you know, they laughed, you know. But I don't care, because now I'm going to get to talk to this girl. And I said, "You know, that was perfect Japanese." I said, "Where did you learn this?" "I'm sorry," she says, "I'm an army brat. I was raised in Japan."

SL: What a story.

MY: So you know, it's just kind of... so there's a contrast.

SL: Yes, you were raised in America, and she was raised in Japan.

MY: But this other guy, you know, he's mumbling something we couldn't understand. And here's this young girl..

SL: Yeah, also from the South. So this was in Tampa?

MY: No, Sarasota. I understand later that it was the home base of Ringling Brothers.

SL: Oh, okay.

MY: And so we were there from January to about May, and they called us back, and they said that Jerome is closing, we're going to Gila, come on back. So we went back to... well, we started going back. I'll tell you all these interesting... I mean...

SL: They are interesting.

MY: On the way back, we were on the train. From beginning to end, from '42 to '45, I traveled over 15-, 16,000 miles on the railroad, you know, and I know that all of the trains were full of soldiers, because they don't fly. There's no...

SL: Right.

MY: Anyway, on the train trip from Tampa to Jacksonville, we were on a train, a car. There was only five of us at that time. We had the whole car. Why? I don't know, but anyway, so we all sat down, you know, and I heard the door open, and I was sitting in the back and heard the doorbell, and somebody tapped me on the shoulder. And we made, he made conversations, you know, just small talk, you know and everything else. And he got up and he says, "Well, I gotta go." He says, "You boys have a great leader." "Yeah?" You know, I'm sitting there with my mouth open, he says, "Chiang Kai Shek is a great man," you know.

SL: Oh, I see.

MY: Well, later I found out that China had a whole bunch of young people over there learning how to fly.

SL: I know that, but... and they thought you were the pilots.

MY: So it's, you know, a lot of scary moments and everything. And another thing, too. When we got to Jacksonville, we had time between trains, so we went to the bathroom, and there was a drunk there in the bathroom, and he got a hold of one of the biggest guys that we had, which in camp he used to box, so either... we weren't worried about him. But this drunk guy, what's going to go on here? He says, "I could guess your nationality," so on and so forth, and he started naming this and this and that, so we said, "Hey, we got to catch this train." Okay, so the next, whatever he said, I don't know whether he was Filipino or whatever, you know, he said, yeah, he let him go, and he said, "Just so you're not a Jap." So you know, it's funny today. Guess what? [Laughs]

SL: I understand your feeling, yeah.

MY: But anyway, that's... so we actually, we got home.

SL: Did you make money though? Were you able to help out by doing these outside jobs?

MY: Yeah, we went there, and...

SL: Because you had to pay for food, and, I mean, you had a lot of expenses, too.

MY: Yeah. Well, like at the hotel, though...

SL: You stayed there.

MY: It's free there, we eat there, so there was no... but we got paid and we got tipped. So we made money. I mean, it wasn't very much, but we made money. So we could, like I said, every time I came back and visited my mom, and I said I was a grower. Well, these stories are so crazy. We were told they're going to leave to Gila, so everybody, my folks already had packed and everything, and we were going to get on the train. I tried to get on the train, and they wouldn't let me on because my glands were swollen. And they said I had mumps, they wouldn't let me on. So my folks and everybody had to go.

SL: Without you.

MY: I said, "What am I going to do?" "Go to the hospital." I says, "Hospital? Hospital is closed." "So go to Rohwer." And you know how secure everything is, said, "How do I get there?" He says, "Well, just see all these trucks going by here?" Because everybody was going to Rohwer. I mean, most of the people were going to Rohwer, so said, "Go over there to the front gate and catch one of those truck drivers and see if you could get a ride there." So I go to the front door and said, "Hey, you going to Rohwer?" "Yeah." Says, "Can I get a ride?" "Sure." I get off over there at Rohwer, and the MP is there, you know, guard, security there, I just walked up to him and I says, "Where's the hospital?" He pointed me, so I go over there, and I was there for about three or four days in the hospital. And they didn't, I didn't really, have bumps, it's just swollen. Anyway, so they finally said, you know, "You can go home." I said, "Where am I supposed to go?" "Where'd you come from?" And same thing in reverse, you know. So I got back to Jerome, same thing, no security or nothing. I just walk in and walk out, and there wasn't too many. I've seen one of the records saying that I was on the last five hundred going to Gila. So I've seen that somewhere, so that's... and I don't know if I should say this or not, but during that time, I had to wait two or three days before the train leaves, so I'm sitting there by myself. Well, I had a friend there. And I was walking around, and all of a sudden one day I see a bunch of kids running that way, yelling and screaming, and "What's the matter?" They kept pointing, and I went... so curious me, you know, I went towards the way that they came from, and they kept pointing at a barn between the barracks and Jerome. The barracks ended here, and the hospital was over here, and there was a big barn in between, and they're pointing at that barn. So I walk up to the barn, and I thought that something smelled bad, but I opened the door anyway. When I opened the door, there was a guy hanging there. I don't see no records that I've seen about that, and I know because I've seen it with my eyes. But the funny part of it is, last, couple of years ago I went to Tule Lake, and I told the story in one of the group discussions. And we got out, and a couple of ladies came up to me and said, "I heard you talk about this incident." And I said, "Yeah, I've personally seen it whether people, other people believe it or not, I don't care, you know, I've seen it. She says, I forgot whether she said her mother or her auntie, "Told us that story too, and we couldn't believe that." So now...

SL: You confirmed the story.

MY: I know it, but then now I'm sure.

SL: Was it a... I need to ask, was it a young man, an older man, the man that had committed suicide?

MY: I heard somewhere or later, how true it is, I don't know. I mean, this is all, all what I heard. And from what I heard, it was a young fellow from Hawaii. I don't know, you know, that's... but I've never seen... of course, I don't think they'd advertise something like that anyway.

SL: I have to think about his family, and that this man then just became missing, but somebody else must have known, right, because they had to take care of it.

MY: So getting back to all those things, I went, I got to Gila. By that time now, I can't stand being in camp, right? I'm so used to going out, so a bunch of us guys heard that you could get deferred if you go to Seabrook Farms, which is in New Jersey. So we all signed up and we went over to Seabrook Farm, which is all across the country. And while we were there, why, we worked. Actually, they had Bird's Eye product, and I didn't know what Bird's Eye was. And we froze blueberries. Anyway, we worked from six in the morning to six at night, two weeks, and then two weeks later, you're on the other shift, six at night to six in the morning. And they fed you, they gave us soup and two slices of bread with bologna, you know, that was our lunch or dinner or whatever you got to call it. But anyway, we worked side by side with the German prisoners, if you could believe that. And these guys were like, I mean, uniform, they were like five foot eleven, six foot, you know, 180, 200 pounds, I mean, they were all... they were really... but anyway, we worked side by side with them, and that is strange. But we couldn't communicate, but with our hand signal and everything, we got along fine. [Laughs] But then again, then again, like I said, we work from six in the morning to six at night. So Friday night at 6 o'clock we didn't have to go back to work until Monday morning, Monday night at six, so we had, you know, practically three days. So we went to New York, you know.

SL: New York City, wow.

MY: We got to see the Empire State Building, walking with our... and then while we were there, why, I think the second month, one guy got his greetings, which is you gotta go for a physical, you know, for the army, because we were all eighteen, nineteen years old. First month, one of the guys went and he passed his physical. The second month, another guy went, he passed his physical. The third month, I got called, and I went in, and I got rejected. Bad heart. Okay, so anyway, I didn't have to worry about the army at that time, and so we said, "Well, heck, let's go back. We're not getting deferred or anything." So anyway, we went back to Hilo. But by the time, like I said, I was already out so much that I couldn't stand camp, so I took my, I took my permanent leave, got my twenty-five dollars, they give you twenty-five dollars for... and I went to Chicago, and I was staying in Chicago. While I was in Chicago, why, I got a letter saying that, "You got to come back, camp is closing," we got to go back, do something. So I had to go back and pick up my folks and go back.

SL: You have the most unusual camp story that I've ever heard. As you said, you...

MY: That's the reason why I wrote a memoir, because I thought my story is a little different.

SL: Its surely is.

MY: My kids, you know, I have four kids, well, one of them passed away, but four kids, and they're going to hear camp stories and they're going to hear this, but I said my story is a little different. So I wrote a memoir, wrote all this thing down, and...

SL: That's important.

MY: Yeah. That's why I would like you and everybody else to ask your parents, or whatever. I mean, my mother told me once, "Ask and you're a fool once, don't ask and you're a fool forever." So you know, I mean, ask, because if they're gone, like I never asked my folks what they did or whatever. I don't have it.

SL: Let's go to your Chicago period, then. So you took your parents to Chicago.

MY: No, no, no. I had to go back, pick them up, and come back to Elk Grove.

SL: You decided to go to Elk Grove?

MY: Yeah.

SL: Meanwhile, you had already seen the country by now.

MY: Yeah, my cousin that I was talking earlier, but they had, still had their farm, so we were able to stay with them for a few months until we found a place for ourselves.

SL: And what were they, were they also doing strawberries on their farm?

MY: Yeah, they were farming.

SL: Is it all strawberries?

MY: They had vegetables, too.

SL: So you had a little money.

MY: Oh, yeah, I had...

SL: More than some.

MY: Because of this fact that I've been all over, I had enough to get started, although the $25 didn't help.

SL: Of course not. So, but you're so young, and you have this family.

MY: I'm nineteen. My dad's sixty-nine, and like I told you earlier, I mean, he worked all his life, and now he got three years of rest, and he was in no shape to work no more. So we had to do something, and we found, we were lucky enough to find there was an old couple in Elk Grove that needed somebody to take care of the flowers, and so he was able to take care of his flowers and get a few dollars just for his...

SL: So this was a private yard, right, just a garden?

MY: Yeah, yeah.

SL: And what did you do in Elk Grove?

MY Well, I was working around the farm.

SL: A farm hand?

MY: Yeah, I was, and then one day I was working with this guy at our day off, he says, "Hey, let's go look for a job." I says, "I got a job." "No, no," he said, "this is this is not that good. So, anyway, he took me to a cannery-like place where they should be hiring, but it was too early, and they said that, "Well, come back in two or three weeks and we'll have room, but we don't have any." So on the way back we were driving by and he says, "Let's stop here, " which was Campbell's soup. So we went in, and the guy tells me, he says, "What shift do you want? Morning?" I mean, I wasn't looking for a job, so I was thinking, I says, well, and since all of a sudden you got to do something, so I said, "Wait a minute," I said, "How about swing shift?" Three-thirty, because then I could do whatever I have to do. And so I got, he says, "Can you start this afternoon?" This was like Friday, so I said, "How about Monday?" "Oh, that's the time." So I come back to the car and he's waiting for me, and I said, "What time you start?" He says, "Why, you got a job?" "Yeah, didn't you?" He said, "No." Can you imagine? Although he got, he went back to the other place that we started with. He got a job, about a year later or so he came to work at Campbell's soup also. So it made me feel good, but like I said, I get the job, he's looking for the job and I get the job.

SL: He's the one who drove you and everything, yeah.

MY: So that's my three years, you know, that's where I spent about fifteen thousand miles on the railroad.

SL: Thirty-nine years you were with Campbell.

MY: Yeah.

SL: You've gone to several reunions, you weren't even in camp that long, you know, but you've gone to reunions or pilgrimages like the one we are at now. Why do you do this? You're a hundred years old, sir. I mean, I'm not... you don't want to stay home, obviously. Do you live in Elk Grove still, or...

MY: Sacramento.

SL: Sacramento, okay.

MY: Well, my wife passed away almost three years ago, but I went on my first, 2019, I came here to Jerome in 2019, that was my first...

SL: Pilgrimage.

MY: Yeah. And I didn't want to come because she was sick at the time, but she says, "Go," you know. I said, "Okay, thanks." So I said, well, but I can't go, because... then my other two daughters says, "Go, we'll watch her." So I was able to come, and I don't know, I wanted once to see where I was, the rest is all bonus. This year, though, I didn't expect to come. In fact, I was here two years ago, and people ask me, "Are you coming next year?" And I jokingly said, "I know I'm going to come when I'm a hundred, just because I know I won't make it." And since I did make it, and I feel that I could make it, my daughter says, "You want to go?" "Well, yeah, I guess so." [Laughs] So I'm here.

SL: Yes. Back in Arkansas. It must feel strange. How do you, you're not bitter about the camp years?

MY: Like I said, I'm at the age where I didn't do the suffering, my folks did. Don't get me wrong, everybody else did. Me personally, I was at the right age. I mean, I'm sure people who read this or see this would probably condemn me, but I'm sorry, you're asking me for my story.

SL: And this is your story. Yeah, so you saw New York, you saw Florida, you went to New Jersey, you saw Chicago.

MY: Yeah, in fact, I've even seen Frank Sinatra in New York.

SL: Oh my goodness, uh-huh.

MY: So I like I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

SL: Yeah. Well, thank you so much, sir, for this very interesting interview.

MY: I'm sorry all this is...

SL: No, no, I think we all had different paths, and yours is one of them, but you understand that, their circumstances were not what it should have been, but you made the best of it. And I know that you have an excellent attitude towards life, so even if you had stayed in Arkansas, you would have found some way to get through it.

MY: Well, like I said, I feel like I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

SL: Yeah. Well, thank you again for this time.