A Philadelphia Story: Memories of the Children

A version of this article originally appeared in the Pacific Citizen.

In the 2017 Holiday Issue of the Pacific Citizen, I wrote an extensive history of the Issei and Nisei communities who settled in the Philadelphia region before and after World War II. Through my research, I became acquainted with the incredible group of leaders who built a community from the ground up in a region with relatively few Japanese. Although they have all passed from this world, I was able to compile their story through archival research of historical documents. Given the “Merry Memories” theme of this year’s Holiday Issue, it seemed appropriate to revisit the histories of these foundational pillars of our local community, but this time, through the memories of their children and grandchildren. The following is an extended history further exploring the conditions that led to the settlement of Issei and Nisei communities in Philadelphia, told largely through the words of people who lived it.

The 20th century was an era of social upheaval across the globe, and there are few examples that illustrate this better than the Empire of Japan and its Japanese diaspora. As a community, Japanese Americans have historically distanced ourselves from the Empire of Japan, and rightly so since its military regime committed horrendous atrocities across Asia. However, in order for us to fully understand the conditions of Japanese immigration to the U.S. during the first decades of the 20th century, it is necessary to consider the role of empire in making Japan a tenuous equal amongst the Western imperial powers.

After several decades of empire-building in the immediate region of Japan’s main island of Honshu, which included the incorporation of Hokkaido and annexation of Ryukyu (Okinawa) and Taiwan, Japan found itself deadlocked with Tsarist Russia in a battle for supremacy over the Korean Peninsula. This led to the relatively short Russo-Japanese War in 1904-05 that resulted in a decisive victory for Japan after it virtually annihilated the Russian naval fleet in the Battle of Tsushima.

Philadelphia Issei pioneer Yosuke Nakano was already 18 years old when the Russo-Japanese War ended. Nakano’s daughter, Teru Graves, identified this as a pivotal moment in her father’s decision to immigrate to the United States.

“He came from a place in the far western part of Yamaguchi in 1906, near the Strait of Shimonoseki,” Graves said. “That’s where the Japanese destroyed the Russian fleet. My father said he could hear the guns. He was about to be drafted, so he decided to leave. Also, he was the second son, so his brother was going to inherit all the property.”

Although Yosuke did not have birthright over the family landholdings, his samurai father cut down the family woodlot and gave him the proceeds, which amounted to about 200, so that he could emigrate to the U.S. Nisei William Marutani’s father actually served in the Japanese military during the conflict before immigrating to the U.S.

Marutani wrote, “After serving in the Russo-Japanese War, Goroku Marutani and his newly married bride left Hiroshima for America to a land whose language neither spoke, whose customs were unfamiliar to them and with no employment awaiting them. Since Goroku was first in line to inherit farmlands plus some forest properties owned by his father, I never quite understood why they left to test their fortunes elsewhere. But they did, and I’m glad they chose America.”  

Emerging from the conflict as the first Asian country to have defeated a Western power in the modern era, Japan held an unprecedented amount of power. Although there was much anti-Asian racism along the West Coast of the U.S., particularly in California, Japanese immigrants were afforded special privileges that their Chinese contemporaries were not. Nisei Mary Jane Mikuriya recalled, “Unlike the Chinese community in California who were segregated into Chinese-only schools, Japanese Americans were allowed to attend school with white students.”

Indeed, despite increasing anti-Japanese sentiment on the West Coast, the Empire of Japan was able to broker special accommodations for Japanese nationals and their descendants. In exchange, Japan agreed to stop issuing further passports for Japanese citizens wishing to immigrate to the U.S., which became known as the Gentlemen’s Agreement of 1907.

Nakano was able to immigrate just before the passports were discontinued and also benefited from this arrangement by having the opportunity to attend a white American high school. Following work as a fruit picker in Bakersfield, CA, and a houseboy in Berkeley, Calif., Nakano enrolled in the University of California Berkeley’s School of Architecture. Upon receiving his degree, he headed east because he realized that Asians had limited opportunity to practice professionally on the West Coast. 

Nakano moved to Philadelphia in 1915 to complete his MA in engineering at the University of Pennsylvania, becoming one of the first Japanese permanent residents of the region. After working for a few smaller companies, he joined Wark & Co. Builders and became its chief engineer in 1919. It was around this time that Nakano met his future brother-in-law, a dentist named Yamamoto, who suggested his sister, Teru, might be a suitable marriage prospect.

In Graves’ words, “Teru came to Philadelphia and was won over by Yosuke’s wonderful smile. She stayed with the Wark family in Mount Airy while the couple became acquainted. They were married in 1920, and my sister, Naomi, was born in 1921.” The young family made their home in the Philadelphia suburb of Ridley Park, where they had their second daughter, Teru. They were the only family of Asian descent in their neighborhood, but the community seemed to embrace them.

“Philadelphia and the East Coast were hospitable to Japanese prewar,” said Graves on her childhood in the region. “Our family had a wide circle of non-Asian friends and business associates. We were also in touch and friendly with the few other Issei/Nisei in the Philadelphia area. Among them were Dr. Hirata and his family; Dr. Kitajima, a dentist who practiced on Porter Street; the Higuchi’s, who had a store on the Wildwood, N.J. boardwalk; Tad Mikuriya, whom Daddy considered the most talented engineer he had ever met; and the Okamotos, whom I only knew because Alan once dated my sister, Naomi.”

Nearly a decade younger, Issei Tadafumi Mikuriya had many things in common with the elder Nakano. Born in 1898 in Saga, Kyushu, Mikuriya was the first son of a samurai and came to the U.S. in 1923 to attend graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania.

His eldest daughter, Mary Jane Mikuriya, wrote, “He was brought to this country by Lutheran missionaries because he attended a Lutheran Missionary kindergarten. His teachers were from the Philadelphia area and facilitated his attending UPenn. When he first came to the USA, Dad was housed with Lutheran Edith Fales (niece of famous merchant John Wannamaker) to assure that his welcoming home would be in keeping with his samurai upbringing.”

After graduating in 1925, Mikuriya’s first American job was with U.S. Steel in Pittsburgh as a structural engineer, where he worked for several years. Mary Jane Mikuriya shared an interesting anecdote about her father’s time there: “He observed that the Chrysler Building was being constructed one floor at time and wondered out loud why U.S. Steel did not just install the entire steel constructive frame rather than wait for each floor to be built before erecting the next floor’s steel structure.

His bosses agreed it was a good idea but had not yet figured out how to do what he suggested. They offered to send him back to UPenn, so my immigrant Dad, who was disallowed citizenship, worked with his professors and came back to U.S. Steel one year later with the solution, which is now standard practice in constructing skyscrapers.”

In addition to his prowess as an engineer, Mikuriya demonstrated a unique ability to radically adapt to the era and circumstances in which he lived. An unlikely pairing, Mikuriya met his future wife, Anna Schwenk, an immigrant from the Austria-Hungarian Empire, at the International House in Philadelphia. They were married in 1929 and shortly thereafter went to live in Japan until Mikuriya’s father died of a heart attack.

Although Mikuriya had no intention of settling down in the U.S. when he first traveled there for grad school, the prospect of having mixed-race children in Japan was not tenable in that era. While interracial marriages were not common, and indeed illegal in many states around the U.S., it seemed like their best choice for a stable future.

“For my two college-educated immigrant parents, life in America was a challenge of how to act/be American,” wrote Mary Jane Mikuriya. “The Depression caused the loss of all their savings… [Mother] could not work [with two young children to raise], and there was hardly any work for Americans, let alone for an engineer husband who designed industrial buildings and bridges, which no one was building anymore.”

Although Philadelphia wasn’t hiring, Mikuriya managed to find a job with American Bridge Co. in Trenton, NJ, and in 1938, the family purchased a small two-acre farm across the river in Fallsington, Pa., to raise their family. “Their life together was without conflict,” said Mary Jane Mikuriya. “It was spent being joyous ‘pioneers,’ learning to be American, self-sufficient and the couple in the early 1960s small farmers who grew their foods and sold chickens, squabs and goats.”

However, the Mikuriyas’ way of life and that of the few other Japanese immigrant families were about to change immensely with the bombing of Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Already a teenager at the time of the attack, Graves remembers the immediate aftermath.

“After Pearl Harbor, the FBI visited immediately, I guess on Dec. 8,” Graves recalled. “They confiscated many of my father’s documents related to construction projects, and they took my Browning box camera down to the police station.”

Mary Jane Mikuriya shared a similar memory: “The FBI took away our camera and long-distance radio, allowing only an AM radio. Therefore, there are no family photos during the war. There are class photos of my brother and me, but no photos of our parents or the family during the war years.”

While Nakano’s elder daughter, Naomi, was excluded from attending graduate studies program at UPenn, their family’s wartime experience was a relatively pleasant one thanks largely to the support of Wark Co. and their many partners, who vouched for Nakano as a loyal American. In particular, the friendship of businessman/inventor Edward G. Budd, whose Budd Co. held a number of US Military contracts during WWII, helped ensure that Nakano would be able to continue his work throughout the war years.

In a letter dated Dec. 2, 1941, Budd wrote, “My dear Mr. Nakano: I want to send you a Christmas word of good cheer. I take this occasion to tell you how highly we have regarded you personally here and that we wish the coming year may be a successful one.”

In another letter dated March 7, 1942, Wark & Co. VP John Derham petitioned the commanding officer Maj. Clyde Pyle at the Army Corps of Engineers to approve Nakano’s security clearance to allow him to continue overseeing the construction of the Philadelphia Quartermaster Depot. The Army approved the application and based on correspondence dated May 1, 1942, Budd Co. further contracted Wark & Co. to build a new defense plant under Nakano’s supervision.

Meanwhile, the younger Mikuriya family was facing a greater deal of hostility from their rural neighbors in Fallsington. “My war years were very painful because the radio was blasting distrust for immigrants and propaganda against Japanese and Germans, which both my parents were,” Mary Jane Mikuriya recalled. “People were encouraged to punish us. No one at school or in the community would be our friends, and if someone was nice to us, they would be chastised. When dad walked down the street to get his bus to work, every one crossed over to the other side of the street as if he had a virus.”

Although she was still a young child during the war years, Sansei Mira Nakashima has similar memories of her time growing up in New Hope, Pa., in the 1940s-50s, northwest of where the Mikuriya family were living. “We came in 19, I think in August or so, to Bucks County, but he was only allowed to do chicken farming,”Nakashima recalled.

“I guess that’s why all those people came to Seabrook. But when I was growing up in New Hope, I don’t remember any other Japanese in the community at all. Most of my classmates were white obviously, and some of their fathers had served in the war, so there was a certain amount of prejudice. They made me aware that I was different, and they used to make fun of me. They would call me ‘Ching-Chong Chinaman’ and would push up their eyes so they would look slanty, and I wasn’t very happy. But I was fortunate that there were a number of people in the community that became my friends and competitors in school.”

The Nakashima family was one of the first allowed to resettle in the Philadelphia region because of the relationship Mira’s father, George, had with his former employer, noted architect Antonin Raymond. After completing his master’s in architecture at MIT in 190, George Nakashima went to work for Raymond in Tokyo.

“We were allowed to come east because of Mr. Raymond, who was my Dad’s employer in Tokyo from 19 — it was through his invitation,” Mira Nakashima explained. “He was alerted we were in the camps by one of Dad’s professors at MIT. I think he was pretty well accepted as an ordinary American at that time. When he was looking for a job in 19, he signed on with Antonin Raymond in Tokyo and worked with him for a while. Raymond left Japan in ’39 and came to Bucks County, bought a broken-down farmhouse and renovated it. He actually worked as an architect here with some of his Japanese architects for a while, and then somehow this professor from MIT alerted him. He said, ‘Can you please sponsor the Nakashimas to leave camp because they’re in Minidoka.’” 

In addition to freeing George, his wife, Marion, and infant, Mira, the War Relocation Authority also agreed to release Mira’s maternal grandfather and Aunt Thelma, who were both employed by the government to help in translation in Chicago.

Among the other early resettlers to Philadelphia were the Issei couple Saburo and Michiyo Inouye, who managed the Philadelphia Hostel where hundreds of Japanese Americans temporarily resided as they transitioned to life post-incarceration.

Aside from the small social circle of Issei parents and their Nisei children who lived in the region before WWII, the hostel was arguably the first Japanese American community space in Philadelphia. Since the 1 per night rooms provided little space for more than a bed, hostel residents spent most of their time in the building’s common areas when they weren’t at work or in school. Communal meals and leisure activities like bridge games became a regular part of the hostel routine.

David Inouye, Saburo and Michiyo’s grandson, shared his memory of one such occasion: “Maybe my fondest memory of the hostel is the New Year’s Day parties that they hosted. My grandparents did a lot of cooking for it, and the guests also brought a lot of Japanese food. The dining room and living room were always crowded, and there would be people playing Go. I don’t think my grandmother approved of alcohol, and I don’t remember any alcohol being served, but I did hear later that my grandfather would sneak some cooking sherry into his chicken teriyaki recipe.”

It was also at this time that the prewar and resettlement communities began interacting. “During the postwar years, the Nakano family welcomed and supported many Issei and Nisei who relocated from the West Coast,” recalled Graves. “This involved helping with housing, participating in gatherings for holidays at various locales and other communal activities. A Japanese fujinkai (women’s association) was founded. As a well-established Philadelphia area Issei/Nisei family, we were in a favorable position to counsel and support relocated families, many of whom started farming and business enterprises.”

Although Philadelphia did have a critical mass of resettlers by the mid-1940s, many stayed only temporarily in the region before returning west or relocating elsewhere. Those who remained struggled to maintain a sense of identity against the backdrop of a community-wide postwar assimilation effort.

One Nisei resettler who did exceptionally well at both assimilating into the local community while also retaining his sense of self was Tak Moriuchi. As one of the many Quaker converts who emerged from this era, he became integrated into the larger community in Southern New Jersey, where he first started working at the Barton Farm in Haddonfield in 19. After two seasons working there, he was able to secure a loan to purchase his own 100-acre farm in nearby Mount Laurel.

By this time, a couple of key pairings had occurred that would help bind together the Nisei resettlement community throughout the rest of their lives. The maiden name of Tak’s wife, Yuri, was Uyehara, and she was the sister of Hiroshi Uyehara, who was a major community organizer involved with the Philadelphia Nisei Council during the resettlement years. Later, this organization would be absorbed into the Philadelphia JACL chapter.

While there had been limited interactions between them, the JACL chapter gave individuals from the prewar and resettlement communities the opportunity to interact on a regular basis. Naomi Nakano was one of the founding members of the chapter, whose father Yosuke served as a board member during its early years, and Teru was also an active member. Mary Jane Mikuriya also recalled, “Mom and dad were always involved in JACL, and I remember being at a JACL event in my late 30s and assigned to the children’s table.”  

Miyo Moriuchi shared some of her early JACL memories. “I remember some distinctive Issei, Mrs. Nakano, wore fancy dresses and a fur! Mr. Nakano played Go for hours at the picnic, and neighbor Mrs. Ikeda always welcomed us children, could speak English to us and made sure we had some sweets to take home. The Hasegawa home smelled different as there was a home Shinto shrine with burning incense,” she recalled.

The Marutani family would also become a major player in building the postwar community. Lawyer William Marutani served as chapter president for several years during the 1950s. Marutani’s daughter, Laurel Dee Marutani Snyder, said, “It was great fun to play with the Moriuchi kids, who looked like me and shared the same family and cultural values, since in Northeast Philadelphia, my family were the only Americans of Japanese ancestry that I saw daily. The Moriuchi family were very gracious in hosting numerous JACL events at their home over the years, providing authentic Japanese cuisine that I would realize later, took hours of preparation, and Yuri would have beautiful floral arrangements placed on the table created from her Ikebana skills.”

Aside from the JACL events, Tak and Yuri Moriuchi would also host social events for the extended community. However, it is clear that JACL played a central role in convening the community. “Besides raucous eight-kid holidays with our Uyehara cousins (Hiroshi and Grayce) in West Chester and occasional visits with a few nearby JA families, I remember the JACL Christmas party at the Settlement House in Philadelphia and summer picnic at Friends Central School,” recalled Miyo Moriuchi. “Mostly, I remember the food — inari-zushi, teriyaki, tsukemono and games.”

While certain aspects of their lives were idyllic, many of the Sansei children still dealt with issues of bullying growing up. Hiroshi and Grayce Uyehara’s daughter, Lisa, recalled, “We were among the furthest out in Chester County. I’m sure that in the entire county we were the only Japanese American family, certainly in our greater school district.

There were a couple of Chinese American families in a big school district but never any Japanese. A lot of the JACL folks who were Quaker knew each other, but we were not Quaker and went to regular public schools.” Lisa and her three brothers grew up in Ridley Park and later moved to nearby West Chester, in the West Philadelphia suburbs.

Hiroshi Uyehara also ran into issues of discrimination in his career at Westinghouse Turbine Division. After being hired initially as an engineer, he was demoted to the role of draftsman, which did not require the professional degree he held.

“Part of his job involved interfacing with clients, and he got demoted from being an engineer because they didn’t want to deal with someone who was Japanese,” said Lisa Uyehara. “Decades later when my father was 0-something, he went to the head of engineering and said that he wanted to finish his career as an engineer… I assume Westinghouse immediately realized they had screwed up majorly because they actually promoted him to the position of senior engineer and gave him a significant pay raise.”

Despite these occurrences, the fledgling Japanese American community found ways to thrive in many respects. After being turned down for partner at the American Bridge Co., Tadafumi Mikuriya started his own firm, Tada Engineering Co.

About her father’s projects, Mary Jane Mikuriya wrote, “One of Dad’s specialties was designing bridges, and he was a consultant for Robeling in Trenton that made cables for suspension bridges such as are used in the Golden Gate Bridge… He was especially proud of the round-about around the Jefferson Memorial, which he designed as such so that drivers could appreciate both the cherry trees and memorial.”

Yosuke Nakano also continued to leave a lasting impact on the Philadelphia landscape through his work with Wark & Co. Graves remembered, “Shortly after WWII, my father was named ‘Man of the Year’ by the Philadelphia Chamber of Commerce. Legally, he was still an enemy alien. He was cited for building 60 of the most-outstanding buildings of the Greater Philadelphia region, including industrial and military facilities, offices, hospitals and schools.”

The younger generation of Nisei resettlers would also continue to leave their impact on the region. George Nakashima would become one the country’s leading furniture craftsman whose woodworking studio works remain among the most-highly sought-after midcentury pieces in the resale market. Tak Moriuchi’s farm prospered, and in time, he was able to purchase additional land making it the largest apple orchard on the East coast. After a distinguished career as a lawyer, William Marutani became the first Asian American judge east of California.

Others succeeded in their own quiet ways, integrating themselves and their families into the business, religious and social communities of Greater Philadelphia. Yet, this relatively small group also left an indelible mark on the Japanese American community nationwide through their significant contributions to the Redress movement. 

Sansei Ken Oye wrote, “I remember a small strategy meeting at Tak Moriuchi’s house with Grayce Uyehara, Grant Ujifusa and others. The Moriuchi family were gracious hosts. Tak looked on wisely without talking much. If memory serves, Tak then offered advice on how to reach Republican members of the House through low-key personal visits by Nisei business people and farmers. He also noted that Sansei liberals like me might not be very effective with people like conservative Congressman James Courter. And if memory serves, Grant and Grayce smiled and nodded.”

Tak’s daughter, Chiyo Moriuchi, expanded on her father’s role in redress. “Tak actively lobbied. He couldn’t avoid it since Aunt Grayce wouldn’t let him not,” she said. “Tak was a Republican and donated to many candidates. I think that might have given him access to some representatives that otherwise might not have been natural supporters.”

Reflecting more on the role of the Nisei women, Miyo Moriuchi remembered, “Grayce was outspoken and active professionally as a social worker and later for redress. Hiroshi, like his sister (my Mom), went along and was supportive and always did whatever she was doing meticulously and thoughtfully.”

Perhaps Tak Moriuchi and indeed the entire Philadelphia Nisei generation’s greatest effort at building a lasting community space that would keep the Japanese Americans together was realized when he became a founding partner of the Medford Leas Retirement Community.

Daughter Chiyo recalled, “When I asked him why he got involved with Medford Leas, he said ‘because Lew Barton said to.’”

Miyo Moriuchi elaborated further: “Dad was an only child and knew how difficult it was for my Mom when his mother became ill with cancer in her mid-60s. Besides the family, farm and household, Mom was nursing Obaachan and later Ojiichan. Dad didn’t want his children to be expected to do that kind of care and saw the Continuing Care Retirement Community concept as a practical, comfortable and intelligent way to age. He encouraged and convinced about 0 JAs to move to Medford Leas, including the Uyeharas and the Marutanis. I think he felt protective and got two or three single JA women, Ida Shimanouchi from NYC and Mary Toda, D.C. secretary to Mike Masaoka, to also move to Medford Leas.”

Laurel Marutani reflected, “As a child, I did not realize the depth of commitment Americans of Japanese ancestry had in supporting human rights. The Nisei generation were examples of the importance of perseverance, patience, community-building and family in supporting positive change for our country.”

While the entire generation of Issei and most of the Nisei are now gone, their legacy lives on through the memories of their children and the lasting impact of their great deeds and tireless efforts toward community-building.