April, 1975
MANZANAR EXPANDS WITH NEW ARRIVALS
Inside WW 2 Manzanar, Part 7, By Shiro Nomura,
Inyo Museums Department Historian for Manzanar
A badly crumpled package and three delayed letters from Amy in one day’s mail. Adding to the loneliness of being kept apart, a day or two passing by without mail was torturous. A very disturbing thing about the U.S. Mail was their inconsistent deliveries. A fat pony express rider on a three-legged pony would have kept a better schedule than the mail trucks of those days. I wonder if the system has changed much today.
I finished opening the package that the post office has started. A snip of the scissors and the sadly man-handled package split open to expose a green, heavy woolen sleeveless sweater. A slip-on style with a chain-stitch pattern and big or small, I was determined to wear it. A note that accompanied the sweater read, “Finally finished your sweater… I hope it fits… to keep you warm till we’re together…” Love, Amy. I was floating on a cloud high above the Sierras for many days to come.
Following shortly on the heels of the evacuee volunteers to Manzanar, the first evacuee family units to be admitted to the camp had been a small group out of Bainbridge Island in Washington from the Pacific Northwest. The cold winds of the early spring which blew through the Owens Valley was hardly a challenge to those hardy strawberry growers who were conditioned to the adverse weather in Washington. Although they did find the sand and gravel kicked up by the strong desert wind a new experience and a little “hard to swallow.”
Compounding the discomforts which the first family groups encountered, were the inconvenience of crowded living quarters in partially finished barracks. The unfinished sewer systems created additional woes to a bad situation especially for the women. Many additional portable comfort shacks like those used on construction sites were moved in and the area was soon reminiscent of the many “Hoover Cities” which sprang up during the Depression years. Due to some bad decisions made by the “playmakers” in the White House, this unfortunate group from Bainbridge had been moved in too soon.
With the grounds dug up and construction going on in Block 3 through Block 12, the slightest wind would kick up a choking cloud of dust. Construction of the barracks was understandably delayed and running behind schedule as all work would be disrupted during the daily afternoon windstorms. As the sewer systems in each block was completed, the portable comfort stations would be moved to the next construction site. Notices would be posted on each of these comfort stations to be moved. An amusing incident which involved an older Bainbridge woman that couldn’t read, who found herself airborne and loaded on the bed of a huge stake truck. She probably thought that she was sitting out an earthquake. She nearly fainted as she stepped out to see an equally startled truck driver and found herself a star on center stage. But I guess everything came out all right.
The evacuees from the San Fernando Valley had followed the Bainbridge group into camp. Fortunately, by the time this group arrived, conditions had improved some, although they also experienced crowded facilities and makeshift mess halls. Kitchen conditions must have been atrocious in the earlier days as the San Fernando mess hall in Block 4 had the notorious distinction of being labeled the “Diarrhea Kitchen” of Manzanar.
As additional manpower was made available, many of them were recruited for the construction of the much needed barracks. Needless to say, the construction progressed at a much faster pace. With the development of the Department of Housing, the appointed evacuee housing coordinator labored to alleviate the crowded conditions and to see to the needs of the residents. The families with children had priority. By the time our group entered camp in May of ’42, much of the wrinkles had been ironed out and the camp was functioning like a “Mini-City.” We were spared some of the discomforts of “growing pains.”
By the summer of ’42, farm areas had been designated southwest of camp and 300-400 acres were soon cleared of brush and rocks and under professional farm supervision. Once again the rattlesnake crew was activated to keep the area safe for the farm workers. Occasionally a snake or two would be sighted within the barbed wire compound (they didn’t require passes), but I don’t recall an incident involving a rattler. We did run into scorpions often during the first summer in camp. My sister in the next barrack found a scorpion in one of her children’s shoes. Of course, with my sister, her husband and ten children, there were twelve pairs of shoes on the floor. I guess the odds were against her.
With modern farm equipment of that era which was made available by the camp director Ralph P. Merritt, the evacuee farm workers had transformed the dry brush strewn wasteland into a productive plush farmland by late summer. Soon the camp residents were enjoying the “fruits of their labor” with home grown vegetables gracing the mess hall tables of all 36 blocks. The quality of the products grown in the valley would have made the farmers back home envious. The surplus crops were shipped to other camps and also to the neighboring towns around Manzanar. A chicken farm and also a hog farm (raised on the camp’s garbage) were soon started to supplement the needs of the camp mess halls. This was just a part of the camp enterprises which must have saved the government and taxpayers countless thousands of dollars due to some of the camp’s self supporting system in the years of our internment. Yes, I will agree that they were a productive group.
Knitting was a popular pastime among the women folk in camp and it was soon a common sight to see a group of women, young and old, chatting and knitting in the warm desert sun. As was the custom, the menfolk had either applied for various jobs or had taken up hobbies of painting or craftwork some of which are slowly making appearances in the Manzanar Camp Display in the Eastern California Museum. Few of the women signed up for work in the mess halls while the mothers looked after their smaller children, although the blocks and the camp itself was like one big nursery school. There was hardly a need for a baby sitter. Later, the camp mattress factory and the garment factories offered employment for the women of the camp. Earlier, a few women had answered the call for “stoop laborers” on the farm. I guess it’s about time I looked for a job too.
Seeing a group of so-called “toughs” from Terminal Island sitting around knitting one day prompted me to ask the aid of my mother in knitting a pair of socks for Amy. In spite of many jibes and raised eyebrows, after knitting and purling for many nights during our nightly toast and chocolate bull sessions I finally finished the “ah… er… socks.” I must have made one for the left foot and the other for the right foot ‘cuz they didn’t match. I could only hope that one of her feet was bigger than the other. This was truly a “Labor of Love.”
Received a letter from a dear friend in Wilmington, California, a Mrs. Ruby E. McFarland. She writes that the harbor area has changed considerably and it brings tears to her eyes whenever she drives through the once familiar neighborhood where “her families” (Japanese-American friends) used to live. The well-kept yards were in sad neglect and especially the neat farms where we had toiled from dawn to dusk were now hopelessly in weeds. Many of the abandoned farms were taken over by inexperienced hands who soon found out that there was a lot more to farming than just harvesting mouth-watering crops. Realizing after a few months that “stoop labor farming” was not their “bushel of peas,” many of them took or sold anything of value and set out for places unknown. Vagabonds!
Most of the losses were in equipments and personal properties as many of the farms in the 1930’s were only leased or rented due to the Alien Land Law of 1913 preventing the Issei Japanese (First Generation) from purchasing land or real property. Most families were waiting for their children to come of age to purchase property in their names. Such was the situation that slipped by us because of the subsequent evacuation order. We were in the midst of negotiating for a piece of farmland and I’m sure we would have lost the down payment. Fortunate, you might say, but the real fortunate ones were those who had purchased land prior to the war and were able to resume farming upon their return.
Mrs. McFarland also wrote that she had requested and received permission to visit her friends in the Santa Anita Assembly Center. She had found the grandstand and the track area beautifully landscaped but the living quarters, the hastily remodeled stables were simply deplorable. The huge grandstands had been opened to the evacuees and many concerts and dances were held there. She had also written to tell me that she met many of our mutual friends and she goes on to say, “I talked to Amy and she told me how lonely she was and wishes she were in Manzanar with you.” That made two of us.
Handsome, grand and genuine. Mrs McFarland affectionately known to us as “Obasan McFarland” (an older lady) had been a true friend to the Japanese families in the Harbor area. I wish more mention had been made of the wonderful people like her through out the West Coast that had gone to the aid of their friends. As the eviction deadline neared in the different districts, she was rushing from family to family offering her physical and moral aid. I’ll never forget what she had meant to all of us. Indeed, she was an “Angel of Mercy.”
She closes her letter with “P.S…. I plan to visit Manzanar in the very near future. Please make arrangements. Hope to have a surprise for you.”
I wonder if she’s planning to sneak Amy into Manzanar in the trunk of her car? Impossible! Only wishful thinking.