My name is Seichi Bill Tahara. Curiosity actually brought me here, because wartime years and internment years were a faded memory as far as I was concerned. But I thought jeez, this might be my last romp. Might see some people from Ocean Falls, from Tashme, from wherever we kind of scrambled.
But when Amy K [indistinct] called me and asked what do you want to be, listener or storyteller, I said what do you mean? I just want to come to the conference. She didn’t say anything… well, do you want to be a storyteller? Well, I could say a few things. Anyway, to make a long story short, I’ll start from where I started.
Years ago, when I visited LA, I visited the museum there, Nikkei Heritage Centre, and I came across this Northwest Nikkei. [Holds up NHC hand-out titled Northwest Nikkei, reads subtitle from the bottom of the front page]: Canadian Internment Camps – Only Memories Remain. Guess who was the guy who wrote this?
[Puts hand on Ed Suguro’s shoulder.]I mean that’s a million to one shot. I kept looking at his name and I said jeez that name sounds familiar. And so I looked into my file, by Ed Suguro, and I said, “You’re not this guy, are you?” He said, “That’s me!”
[Question from off-camera woman]: And when was that written?This was written 1989.
Isn’t that amazing? Yeah, like I said, sense of humor and surprises is what keeps us going.
Right? Anyway, nice to meet you, Ed.
And after reading this, my wife and I, we did the tour. We did every one, and Sandon camp location, my friend, is a hellhole. Trust me. It said 500 or whatever Japanese lived here? It’s just in a valley and it’s still a dirt road. Trust me, where I got evacuated, it was like a resort. Honestly, but anyways …
I just wrote a few things because, kind of shy to talk in front of people. Anyhow, I called my wife last night and she says how’s it going? I said jeez, you know, I’m glad I came. Before I had a chance to say that, she says, “Watch what you talk about.”
I said it won’t be long. It’ll be about five minutes. But anyway I started to write down a few things. To begin with, hi everyone. I have to repeat this again, because this is what I wrote. My name is Seichi Bill Tahara born nisei.
You know, my birth certificate, from the first time I read it the other day, it indicates, I didn’t know where I was born really, it says 143 Dunlevy Street. You know where Dunlevy Street is? It’s Japan-town, right? That’s where I was born. You know, some 80 years ago. Now I know where I was born.
But today, today is very important. I mean if you want retirement, one of the best places to retire is Victoria. I’ll argue with anybody about that place, if you want an argument. But anyways …
I am delighted to have this opportunity to attend this weekend’s conference, to share a few memories, of some of my personal thoughts, experiences and recollections, growing up during very unsettling war and internment years during the early 1940s.
In the 30s, our family lived right here in Vancouver at 325 West Fourth Avenue in Fairview, today an industrial and business district. I attended kindergarten at the Columbia Street United Church at the corner of Sixth and Columbia.
And to a lot of you people still living in Vancouver, Cambie Street was the dividing line. If you lived west of Cambie, you went to the Buddhist Church and if you lived on the east side, you went to the United Church. We happened to live on the east side so I went to the United Church. It’s a fact. It was weird, but that’s how it was.
I attended at the Model School near City Hall and each day after grade school, I attended Nihongako, learning Nihongo and learning the traditional Japanese way. Very disciplined and very strict. As nisei in our formative years, we were taught to be polite, be honest, obey and respect our elders, study hard, work hard, try your best in whatever you do, and care for others’ well being.
Just a typical Japanese kid, quiet, well behaved, very dull.
And not an exciting nisei.
Most nisei of our era behaved … I’m sorry, avoided being a so-called deshabari, an outgoing character, because you’d be talked about in the community.
You know, in our community, in those days, we lived in cabins — so called cabins. I happened to live in Matsumoto cabin and there was Yoshida cabin and Nakamata cabin all within half a block square. Boy, if you did something wrong, the whole community knew overnight. It was weird. Yeah, honestly, so, as a parent, an issei parent, you didn’t want your child to bring shame to them, you see. Oh boy, uh, I guess that’s why we were of the same ilk, to be honest with you.
And never rock the boat, mind your own business. Independence and individuality were frowned upon by the wider Japanese community. Right?
Talk about Nihongo, right? The three Gs, to this day I remember, Gamansuru, Gambare, Giri. That’s all the … Wasurenaiyou [Do not forget]. But you know, in my teen years, as I was growing up, there’s one other thing in North America, you gotta go, go for it, and that’s, that’s what I think was missing as far as I’m concerned. But anyways …
In September of 1940, our family moved up the coast to Ocean Falls, a thriving pulp and paper mill, a one-industry town. There were approximately 400 Japanese living in Ocean Falls at the time.
It was a totally close-knit, segregated community. We all got to know each other and most of the kids were born there. And there was only two moving vehicles, a truck that belonged to the mill and another, garbage truck. That was it. So nobody owned cars, there was no cars. But you know, to this day, what was amazing, that family that had kids, they all had pianos.
I mean, really, you laugh, you laugh, they were all good pianists. Some of them became actually very good teachers back east. Honestly, even my buddy, his name was Hatsu Uchida, he played like a pro. Honestly. And I thought playing music was a sissy. They all played piano, the whole shooting match. Honestly, that was something from Ocean Falls I’ll never forget. But anyways … Whammo.
We all remember this, Sunday, December 7, 1941, aerial attack by Japanese military on Pearl Harbor. This surprise attack…
[Interjects] I’m sure we all said it, but since I wrote it, I’m going to read it, if you don’t mind.… not only changed the course of the wider world but altered and changed the lives of 22,000-odd Nihonjin living within 100 miles of the west coast of Canada. I mean B.C. The government of Canada, I can still remember his name, Prime Minister Mackenzie King, took swift action to evacuate all Japanese living within 100 miles of the B.C. coastline.
We were labeled as “enemy aliens”. Me, a thirteen year old, an enemy alien? Hey, very terrorist like, right? But anyway …
Most of our issei fathers and nisei boys over 18 were ordered and sent to rural camps in B.C. If one of them resisted, the government sent them, I believe, to Angler, Ontario, prisoner-of-war camps. And so there must be a few surviving relatives from those experiences here at this conference. But a 13 year old, uh, I was going to say …
Everything, everything happened so rapidly. Curfew, lights out at 7 pm, RCMP came and confiscated our prize Marconi radio and Kodak camera.
’Cause I remember my parents trying to get shortwave from Japan and see what’s happening in the war in Japan. I still remember that to this day. Today probably those two items would be valuable antiques, I’m sure. But anyways …
Our dad got sent to road camp on the Hope Princeton Highway. I grew up in a hurry. I’m 13, having to take charge of the family, Mum, younger brother and younger sister. In February or March of 1942, we were given one week to leave and each one of us will be allowed to take one bag each. I vaguely remember we got rid of our possessions to natives of Bella Bella and Bella Coola. I can’t remember how, but somehow we returned to our former place on 4th Avenue in Vancouver in Fairview and I finished Grade 7. But in the summer of ’42, we were made to move into Hastings Park, a complex, waiting to be evacuated to one of the internment camps. My brother and I bound together. Excuse me, I’m not used to talking — together with other young nisei boys. Mum and sis were housed in the women’s dorm, with absolutely no privacy.
To this day I am truly thankful to the many dedicated nisei who were responsible for looking after our well being in Hastings Park. I think under very trying and unsettling times, they did an awesome job. September of ’42, our family was sent to Tashme. Tashme was built on a ranch — excuse me, not used to talking, I guess — fourteen miles east of Hope, set up to house 2000 plus internees. Today it’s a residential resort complex called Sunshine Valley. The four of us shared that 14 by 28 tarpaper shack with a nisei mother and two young boys from Prince Rupert. Their issei father was also sent to road camp. For water we shared an outside water tap set up between two units and each unit had their own outhouse. Every time I drive by Sunshine Valley, it brings back many, many memories of Tashme, our wartime home. A few of us were lucky to get our first paying job that first summer, building a dam for a minimum wage of around 15 cents an hour. But it was a very rewarding experience getting a summer job.
But I don’t know why I got a job as a 13 or 14 year old, ’cause most of them were 15 or 16, because, I think luckily, I was a little bit taller than most the teenagers at the time. But anyways…
On the positive note, thanks to Mr. Yoshida, a very determined and dedicated nisei Scoutmaster, the first Tashme troop was organized and established. This was the largest Boy Scout Troop in the British Empire of that era. In 1992, Scoutmaster Yoshida was honoured with a mural in Chemainus, his hometown, indeed very deserving. As you know, the murals in Chemainus are world famous and a huge tourist attraction today.
By the way, I’ll never forget the Scout motto: Be prepared. [Gives Scout salute]. And in life, you gotta be prepared.
Most of us and B.C. judo black belt instructors were in Tashme also. In those days judo black belters were held in very high esteem. Needless to say, most of the nisei boys joined to create that huge dojo. We were very fortunate to have this opportunity to be in Scout League and to learn judo during those trying times. Both scouting and judo kept us active, competitive and out of mischief. We also had opportunities to play organized baseball and basketball.
We learned to ice skate during that first frigid and snowy winter of ’42. We also enjoyed the outdoors and what nature could offer in a beautiful valley with a creek running nearby. I think we fished it out. Anyways, personally, growing up, I enjoyed being involved in sports. Sports was something to do and fun to compete. Another enjoyment was Nihon furo, a Japanese style community bath. It became a daily ritual to bathe together with other buddies, just like going to the hot spring. The brief period I was in Tashme, I made lasting friendships with nisei kids from Vancouver Island, Victoria, Chemainus, Duncan, Cumberland, Royston, Fraser Valley, you name it, Mission, Haney, Hammond, plus Steveston and Vancouver.
Our family stay in Tashme was very brief, September ’42 to April ’44. We were one of the first families to leave Tashme. We left for our uncle’s farm in the Okanagan, hopefully to live as a family and to start a new life. To this day, leaving Tashme is still one of the most enduring, emotional and gut-wrenching experiences of my life. It seemed to be the whole town of Tashme came out to bid our family farewell, lining both sides of the boulevard. At that time, we did not really know if we would ever meet again or where our future lay.
Leaving Tashme was the beginning of another adventure and challenge. I’m happy to say that in September of ’93, the year that I retired, Tashme [reunion] was held in Toronto. Indeed it was truly an enjoyable reunion, meeting many former friends for the first time, bridging over 50 years. We all certainly endured and embraced whatever we were faced with. It sure was a scrambling nice time. I often wonder how our lives would have played out if this internment did not take place. It certainly, certainly has been an exciting, fascinating, challenging life’s journey in a rapidly changing world. Speaking of change, to me the most amazing change are the 90 % or more intermarriages that are taking place today among the third and fourth generations of Japanese heritage. What a beautiful mix. Don’t you all agree? To think, to think, not too long ago, intermarriages were unheard of, taboo, among the Japanese community. Both of our daughters married hakujin. By the way, they were not arranged.
In closing, I feel very fortunate at being born nisei in a rapidly changing Canada. Yes, change, we are now Nikkeis, right? And I thank you all. Twenty minutes. That wasn’t my design. It was an accident.