 | "Reflecting on his life, 88-year-old Tak Yamamoto recalls apiece in the New York Times by writer James Reston. 'It was as if I chose when to be born. I feel that all the history I’ve lived through has enriched and shaped me and I wouldn’t have it any other way.'" -Naseem Alavi |
Reflecting on his life, 88-year-old Tak Yamamoto recalls apiece in the New York Times by writer James Reston.”It was as if I chose when to be born. I feel that all the history I’ve lived through has enriched and shaped me and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” says Yamamoto, summarizing Reston. I met Tak through Sakura Kai senior center in El Cerrito and decided to interview him about his life story and how the intersection of his Japanese and American identity has shaped him.
Yamamoto was born in 1929 in Seattle, the second of six children. His father imported lumber and his mother never worked. He attended Beacon Hill Elementary, but when he was in second grade his parents decided they needed to go back to Japan. In the beginning, he was very lost, but by the end of his first year he was able to follow along. There were many kids in his neighborhood, two of whom he’s still friends with to this day. His school was co-ed and he greatly enjoyed the devoted and respectful school environment there. He never faced ridicule or discrimination for having a dual citizenship, but even before the war, his family experienced tension both socially and economically. His mother had learned to drive in Seattle and when they moved to Japan she continued to do so, which was very unusual for women at the time. She would dress in high heels and fur coats. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her as the lady that dresses American.
The war broke out when he was a freshman in high school. By the time he was a junior, the government had issued the draft, which stated that all people college age and older had to enlist. He feels that most people of his generation lost their teens to the war. The food shortages were severe and everyone was always hungry. As a senior, he took an exam that allowed him to attend the naval academy. He joined the academy, located in Edijima, just south of Hiroshima, in 1944. . The following year, air raids started to be more frequent. On March 17, 1945, his house in Kobe was burned.
While in the navy, Tak was positioned twelve miles from where the atomic bomb in Hiroshima fell. He felt the flash and the shock of the mushroom cloud. The naval academy students were asked to pack up on August 15th, nine days after the bomb hit. The scenery was devastating, but it wasn’t anything new. There seemed to be a never ending stream of people hustling to get space on freight trains. Everyone’s cities had been bombed and everything seemed to have fallen into an apocalyptic chaos. Train schedules had completely fallen through.
When the war ended in August, he thought that the only future for him would be as a naval cadet and losing his U.S. citizenship, but he found out that becoming a cadet for the Japanese army would only be considered a college degree, keeping his dual citizenship in tact. In Tokyo, he continued to do administrative work until the war ended. When the truce was signed, he helped with the paperwork for exchanging prisoners of war.
“I didn’t have any special connection to anyone,” he remembers, “but I as I saw all of them coming through I became part of the people who lost the war, which is a horrendous and depressing experience, but we all went through that and picked ourselves up afterward.”
After the naval academy, his father put him in touch with a business friend who was willing to pay his boat fare across the Pacific to study in the U.S. After much consideration, he accepted, knowing that he would have to build himself from the ground up in America without any friends. He sailed on a cargo ship with only six or seven other passengers headed for Seattle, stopping off in Vancouver and Portland along the way. Growing impatient, he decided to get off in Portland. They only provided him with 87 cents for the train fare. When he arrived in Seattle, his father’s business friend who was sponsoring him found him room and board at a church, along with a job as a gardener. He was forced to work upwards of ten hours a day in order to make a living because he couldn’t make more than one dollar per hour.
In 1950, he was accepted into the University of Washington and attended for one year before the Korean War broke out. The prospect of being drafted became unavoidable and his savings had dried up, so he decided to join up. The third day after he joined, he ended up receiving his draft notice. In Georgia, he underwent basic training before being sent to the Far East. His unit didn’t have a Korean linguist, and since the language was so similar to Japanese, he began to learn. He was sent to work for the 302 Military Intelligence Company, directly under the command of the 8th Army. There were two sections in intelligence; captured documents and interrogation platoons. He was assigned to work in the captured documents division and was assigned to train other people to work in intelligence for translating documents. He helped screen draftees for intelligence, specifically Japanese Americans who could read and write in both languages. After one year, he was able to ask for a transfer to Tokyo, where he spent a year before receiving an honorary discharge.
As he thought about what he wanted to do with his future, he took great inspiration from his grandfather, the first person in his family to go to the U.S. All he had was a sign that read, “I’m Japanese, I don’t speak English, I’m Christian, and I want to join the lumber industry.” Despite all the odds, his grandfather was able to find work.
He decided his next ambition would be to take advantage of the G.I. Bill to return to college. As he was researching colleges, one of his friends happened to send him an article about Mies Van Der Rohe, an architect who had escaped the Nazis and became head of the architecture department at IIT in Chicago. After some brief investigations, he had his heart set that that was he wanted to do. He was able to intern with Mies. He would buy him Swedish cigars and thought about how he couldn’t do architecture for a career because he didn’t have the same dedication as Mies. Yet, he persevered and graduated in 1959 feeling satisfied with having received a thorough training.
That summer, the sweltering Chicago heat began to get to him and he decided it was time to move on. He opened up a map to see what city he wanted to try living in next. Between Houston and San Francisco, he chose San Francisco. Without knowing anybody there, he packed all of his belongings into a jellopy and began the trek west.
Despite the Eisenhower depression, he was able to find a job on the third day, marking the beginning of his career in architecture. He says that he was very lucky to get to work on a broad variety of projects, ranging from mausoleums to theaters. He began work for the Kitchen and Hunt Office. Mr. Hunt was the master architect for the Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland. At the time, there was an increase in death rates and they had to build new burial sites. One of his first jobs there was to design a mausoleum out of marble.
When asked about the exchange of customs between Japan and the U.S. and the effects of blending culture, Tak replied, “My culture was getting to be part of both worlds. It is a very special experience. Coming from multiple cultures makes life more complicated, but it also makes life more interesting.” He described how Japanese-American culture has become like a time capsule for how Japanese culture was 50 years ago when those generations immigrated. He hasn’t been exposed to the newer forms of Japanese culture, such as new pop trends. He believes that the old isn’t necessarily better than the new and that people should be open to how young people evolve cultures. When people begin to raise their own families, they select what customs and traditions to adopt. He wanted to teach his kids Japanese and raise them with Japanese traditions, but it didn’t really stick with them and he came to accept that.
Music also played an important part in Tak’s life. One of the first pieces of classical music he was introduced to was Strauss's Vienna Waltz. After finishing his basic military training in Georgia, he had a two week long vacation. He took the bus to New York City, where he found his way into many theaters for free. He heard Toscanini conduct the NBC Symphony in Rigoletto. Later in life he joined a Japanese choir group that opened with the national anthem for an A’s game.
From serving for the army in two different countries to designing mausoleums, Tak feels that the variety of experiences life threw at him allowed him to become more enriched as a person. Though war leads to a brutal loss of culture, it can also allow for a blending of culture to create a new one that better fits the spirit of the time.
Yamamoto was born in 1929 in Seattle, the second of six children. His father imported lumber and his mother never worked. He attended Beacon Hill Elementary, but when he was in second grade his parents decided they needed to go back to Japan. In the beginning, he was very lost, but by the end of his first year he was able to follow along. There were many kids in his neighborhood, two of whom he’s still friends with to this day. His school was co-ed and he greatly enjoyed the devoted and respectful school environment there. He never faced ridicule or discrimination for having a dual citizenship, but even before the war, his family experienced tension both socially and economically. His mother had learned to drive in Seattle and when they moved to Japan she continued to do so, which was very unusual for women at the time. She would dress in high heels and fur coats. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her as the lady that dresses American.
The war broke out when he was a freshman in high school. By the time he was a junior, the government had issued the draft, which stated that all people college age and older had to enlist. He feels that most people of his generation lost their teens to the war. The food shortages were severe and everyone was always hungry. As a senior, he took an exam that allowed him to attend the naval academy. He joined the academy, located in Edijima, just south of Hiroshima, in 1944. . The following year, air raids started to be more frequent. On March 17, 1945, his house in Kobe was burned.
While in the navy, Tak was positioned twelve miles from where the atomic bomb in Hiroshima fell. He felt the flash and the shock of the mushroom cloud. The naval academy students were asked to pack up on August 15th, nine days after the bomb hit. The scenery was devastating, but it wasn’t anything new. There seemed to be a never ending stream of people hustling to get space on freight trains. Everyone’s cities had been bombed and everything seemed to have fallen into an apocalyptic chaos. Train schedules had completely fallen through.
When the war ended in August, he thought that the only future for him would be as a naval cadet and losing his U.S. citizenship, but he found out that becoming a cadet for the Japanese army would only be considered a college degree, keeping his dual citizenship in tact. In Tokyo, he continued to do administrative work until the war ended. When the truce was signed, he helped with the paperwork for exchanging prisoners of war.
“I didn’t have any special connection to anyone,” he remembers, “but I as I saw all of them coming through I became part of the people who lost the war, which is a horrendous and depressing experience, but we all went through that and picked ourselves up afterward.”
After the naval academy, his father put him in touch with a business friend who was willing to pay his boat fare across the Pacific to study in the U.S. After much consideration, he accepted, knowing that he would have to build himself from the ground up in America without any friends. He sailed on a cargo ship with only six or seven other passengers headed for Seattle, stopping off in Vancouver and Portland along the way. Growing impatient, he decided to get off in Portland. They only provided him with 87 cents for the train fare. When he arrived in Seattle, his father’s business friend who was sponsoring him found him room and board at a church, along with a job as a gardener. He was forced to work upwards of ten hours a day in order to make a living because he couldn’t make more than one dollar per hour.
In 1950, he was accepted into the University of Washington and attended for one year before the Korean War broke out. The prospect of being drafted became unavoidable and his savings had dried up, so he decided to join up. The third day after he joined, he ended up receiving his draft notice. In Georgia, he underwent basic training before being sent to the Far East. His unit didn’t have a Korean linguist, and since the language was so similar to Japanese, he began to learn. He was sent to work for the 302 Military Intelligence Company, directly under the command of the 8th Army. There were two sections in intelligence; captured documents and interrogation platoons. He was assigned to work in the captured documents division and was assigned to train other people to work in intelligence for translating documents. He helped screen draftees for intelligence, specifically Japanese Americans who could read and write in both languages. After one year, he was able to ask for a transfer to Tokyo, where he spent a year before receiving an honorary discharge.
As he thought about what he wanted to do with his future, he took great inspiration from his grandfather, the first person in his family to go to the U.S. All he had was a sign that read, “I’m Japanese, I don’t speak English, I’m Christian, and I want to join the lumber industry.” Despite all the odds, his grandfather was able to find work.
He decided his next ambition would be to take advantage of the G.I. Bill to return to college. As he was researching colleges, one of his friends happened to send him an article about Mies Van Der Rohe, an architect who had escaped the Nazis and became head of the architecture department at IIT in Chicago. After some brief investigations, he had his heart set that that was he wanted to do. He was able to intern with Mies. He would buy him Swedish cigars and thought about how he couldn’t do architecture for a career because he didn’t have the same dedication as Mies. Yet, he persevered and graduated in 1959 feeling satisfied with having received a thorough training.
That summer, the sweltering Chicago heat began to get to him and he decided it was time to move on. He opened up a map to see what city he wanted to try living in next. Between Houston and San Francisco, he chose San Francisco. Without knowing anybody there, he packed all of his belongings into a jellopy and began the trek west.
Despite the Eisenhower depression, he was able to find a job on the third day, marking the beginning of his career in architecture. He says that he was very lucky to get to work on a broad variety of projects, ranging from mausoleums to theaters. He began work for the Kitchen and Hunt Office. Mr. Hunt was the master architect for the Mountain View Cemetery in Oakland. At the time, there was an increase in death rates and they had to build new burial sites. One of his first jobs there was to design a mausoleum out of marble.
When asked about the exchange of customs between Japan and the U.S. and the effects of blending culture, Tak replied, “My culture was getting to be part of both worlds. It is a very special experience. Coming from multiple cultures makes life more complicated, but it also makes life more interesting.” He described how Japanese-American culture has become like a time capsule for how Japanese culture was 50 years ago when those generations immigrated. He hasn’t been exposed to the newer forms of Japanese culture, such as new pop trends. He believes that the old isn’t necessarily better than the new and that people should be open to how young people evolve cultures. When people begin to raise their own families, they select what customs and traditions to adopt. He wanted to teach his kids Japanese and raise them with Japanese traditions, but it didn’t really stick with them and he came to accept that.
Music also played an important part in Tak’s life. One of the first pieces of classical music he was introduced to was Strauss's Vienna Waltz. After finishing his basic military training in Georgia, he had a two week long vacation. He took the bus to New York City, where he found his way into many theaters for free. He heard Toscanini conduct the NBC Symphony in Rigoletto. Later in life he joined a Japanese choir group that opened with the national anthem for an A’s game.
From serving for the army in two different countries to designing mausoleums, Tak feels that the variety of experiences life threw at him allowed him to become more enriched as a person. Though war leads to a brutal loss of culture, it can also allow for a blending of culture to create a new one that better fits the spirit of the time.
