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AC: So where were you born?

SS: I was born in Asher, Washington, and it's in the Yakima Valley there, it's no longer there, it's just a crossroads now.

AC: And so when your father decided to go and clear this land here in Vale, picked up the whole family and you moved.

SS: Yes. We moved to Vale, Oregon, and at first we lived in town because there was no buildings on the place. And so Dad brought his friend, Mr. Jay Nishida, a carpenter, to build on the farm. So he built a garage first, so after we lived... well, I don't know if we lived a year in Vale. We went out and lived in the garage, six kids, and it was a small garage, they had a little apartment in the end. I think Mr. Hirai was a bachelor then and he lived in this little apartment in the end, if I remember right. But anyway, we got to Vale and then it was across the street from the Methodist church, which made my dad and mom very happy. So we had to go to Sunday school every Sunday. But then we moved out on the farm after we got some buildings built, and then Mr. Nishida built us a real nice home out there, two story house. And that's what we grew up in, but we lived eleven miles out, and there was a little country school nearby, but we were in the Vale School District, so we had to ride a bus to town to go to school, so we went to Vale elementary and high school there.

AC: Were there very many Asian or Japanese kids in school?

SS: No, there were none. We were the only... and later, Mr. Nitta was married and started having children, so it was Nittas and us for a long time.

AC: How did that feel?

SS: We didn't know any different. [Laughs] But I guess we knew we were Japanese.

AC: Were you treated any different?

SS: Not really. I always thought I was the teacher's pet in the first grade. [Laughs] We got along pretty well. But let's see... I think when I was about in the fourth grade, they were having a hard time on our farm, so Dad rented some ground near Ontario, and so I went to a little country school between Ontario and Vale for two or three years, and I can't remember too much, but we had a schoolteacher named Mr. Denim who had only one arm. His arm got blown off in an accident. And so my father made me help him. Well, in those days, teachers had to do their own janitor work. So Mr. Denim lived, boarded, room and boarded at our neighbor's place, so Dad made me help Mr. Denim every night after school, help him sweep and clean up the school, then he'd give me a ride home. But I remember that. I was only in fifth grade. Our older kids had to come home from school and go to work out in the fields. I suppose Dad thought I was old enough to help the teacher. So I remember I got that job.

<End Segment 3> - Copyright © 2004 Oregon Nikkei Endowment and Densho. All Rights Reserved.