Densho Digital Archive - George Iseri Interview (denshovh-igeorge

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AC: When did your dad arrive in the United States?

GI: 1900.

AC: And what did he, what was, why did he come here and what did he do?

GI: Why did he come and what he did? You know, this is a sad thing because I, there were so many things I want to talk to Mother and Dad about that it was too late when I realized that, boy, I missed my opportunity. But Dad apparently, he was sixteen years old when he came to the country, and his older step, half brothers I think had been here and maybe returned once, and my dad decided that he wanted to come to America. Apparently at that time in Japan, there was just real tough times, and Dad just had enough "gumption." I use that word. I don't think it's in the dictionary, is it? To get away from there, from Japan, and go and make his own life which he did, you know. He learned to speak English, and he could sit here with us today and joke and tell, jokes with each other, tell jokes himself, and he really got along well with the Caucasian and the Nisei as we all grew up. But you know, his life changed considerably when he and my mother got married in 1907, and there was one kid after another, and I don't think Dad had much time to really try to learn, get educated professionally or anything, so he didn't do that. But he worked in the community, acted in the community as a liaison between the Japanese and the Caucasian folks all his life.

AC: So he taught himself English?

GI: Yes. He went to night school. And amazingly, his handwriting was so good that he would ask the principal of our school, "Why is George's handwriting so lousy?" because my dad's handwriting was much, much better. He was an immigrant from Japan, and Dad mentioned to him and maybe it's because after he hurt his hand sometime. But the principal said, "Oh, no. That has nothing to do with it." In fact, I think he was, told my dad that, "George could do better if he tried."

AC: And could you?

GI: Yeah. But that's the way I've been all my life. I could do better if I tried.

AC: So what kind of, what kind of, how would you describe your dad?

GI: My dad? Well, I think probably the first thing I remember about that side of the story is why I don't know because we don't have any of us children that are that way, but Dad must have been about forty inches or so around the waist. As I recall him, he slimmed down considerably after the war and as he aged, but that's the thing I remembered about him. He was so big around the middle. But I guess family wise what I remember the most was that he and Mother always got along good. Of course, my mother was a marvel when it came to that ability because she wouldn't open herself to an argument. She handled it very nicely, and she respected Dad, and Dad was the boss. In other words, you know what Dad says, and so we listened to what Mother said. And Dad was a very serious person most of the time. But when he relaxed and met with his friends and had some sake or beer or something, that's the time we used to ask him if we could have a dime to go see a movie because he'd dig out everything out of his pocket, that's fine. But if he was sober, we didn't ask him. About that time, my older brothers would give us a dime to go to the movies. But Dad was always helping other people, it seemed like, sort of like my youngest son, Mike. And the way I went through life is, I was taught that I've got to help other people and that Dad went out to help people all the time. In fact, it was a wonder that he had time to do any work. I guess that's what I remember most about him was he was envy of a lot of families because he could speak the language, and the parents of the Nisei kids would come to my dad all the time to ask for help. So that alone I think was invaluable to the community and to us, too, because he was widely known, and I've gone through life and every one of us kids that have survived have gone through life hearing from others, especially Isseis, "Oh, your dad is Matahichi Iseri of, Iseri of Thomas, Washington." "Yeah." "Well, come in." Dad and Mother opened the doors to us, thousands and thousands of doors, as we've gone through life especially in business because several of us had been in business most of our lives. And so certainly, I don't feel that Dad wasted any of his time in his life. He just was working all the time and especially helping people.

AC: What kinds of things did your dad do to, or how did he help other Issei, Nisei?

GI: Well, you can imagine let's say an immigrant comes from, there was five hundred immigrants come to Ontario from Japan and perhaps one or two out of the whole bunch spoke English. There you are right there. Dad worked with all of them and until the kids grew up old enough to handle things. But even at that, Dad had part of a lot of experience on what was going on in America and understand the English language that he helped many of them until the very end. He kind of gave up when they picked him up on the night of December the 7th, and they interned him for six months, and that was, there's a time of life, and it just shattered him. After camp, he came out. He didn't want to get involved in community activities. Even in our Japanese community, he just held back the rest of his life.

AC: How would you describe your mom?

GI: Well, as I mentioned before, Mother lived to one hundred and three. The night before she passed away, she was living here at the apartment that I just constructed. And perhaps thirty years, almost thirty years in a way and almost every single day that was available, she would have all the friends around the commons, they'd all play Hana, the Japanese game. And there were ladies in the group who didn't know the first thing about playing Hana. Somebody had to practically hold the cards for them and play the cards for them. But my mother's group was just compassionate enough to let that person play, and everybody still had a wonderful time. My mother was good with getting along with people, and she just wanted to do something for other people, and I really admire her for that that, around thirty or forty years that she, well, and Dad both too, while Dad was living too, they used to have friends come over all the time. But after Dad died, that's when my mother started playing Hana, learn how to play Hana. And she loved to garden. We built a new house for her over here after Dad died and had a garden there for her, and she'd be out there in the garden and all. And we'd all tell her, "Well Mom, it's too hot for you to be out here, this hot sun." And to make a long story short, she just told us, "Leave me alone." She says, "If it gets too hot, I'll go inside. I'll take care of myself. Don't worry about me." So we let her be. And she was out there in the garden. She could raise anything including even marijuana. And at age one hundred, all of a sudden, she quit. She didn't tell us she's going to quit or anything. She just didn't go out to the garden no more. But if you, she were here living here today, she'd be thinking, "Well, what can I send home would these gentlemen?" She'd be getting some sort of canned jam or canned vegetables or tsukemono or something for you to take home. She just couldn't let you go home without having something. Maybe she might have given you a box of Cracker Jack. She did that all her life, Cracker Jack for the kids. But she was a wonderful mother like most mothers, and she was just good at handling all of us. You can just imagine twelve kids, and the oldest one was twenty-six years old than the youngest. As the cars came home at night, Mother used to say, "I can tell which one came home." "When I hear all the doors on the cars close, then I could sleep," she used to say. And so she was worried about all of us all that time, and she probably had good reason to be because there's a bunch of boys and friends of a bunch of other Caucasian boys in the community. She had something to worry about, because us Niseis didn't get to do things that the Caucasian boys got to do, you know. She was a wonderful mother.