Reaching Across Time and Space

Some projects are just bigger than the people working on them and this is certainly one of them.  The book has been a marker in many people's lives and it shouldn't be a surprise that any project connected to it would touch various people's lives across time and space, but there have been moments that have startled me: 

One was "meeting" an Egyptian woman online who contacted us because she was doing her Masters thesis in Cairo on No-No Boy.  She was reaching out for information and conversation about the play and how it differed from the book; I sent her a copy of the script and asked her how and why she was compelled to do her thesis on a fairly obscure book about a fairly obscure (certainly in a global sense) subject, and she said she was moved by his search for justice and his questions about identity, things that touched her as an Egyptian woman scholar.  I mentioned that in the aftermath of 9/11, Japanese Americans were among the first to speak out against racial profiling and the scapegoating of Muslims and Arab Americans; she was aware of that as well and said maybe that figured into whatever impulse she had to pick up the book at the American University in Cairo.

Another was meeting a Japanese national, a journalist, and his colleague, a Professor of Asian American Studies at Kanda University in Tokyo.  Who'd'a thunk there was any such thing as an Asian American Studies program in JAPAN?  They had heard of our project through Frank Abe, who had done a couple of documentaries, including CONSCIENCE AND THE CONSTITUTION (about the Heart Mountain Resisters) and IN SEARCH OF NO-NO BOY, an educational short about John Okada and the real-life basis for the story and some of the characters in the book.  He was gracious enough to let us post his study guide on our website on our For Educators page.  They flew from Tokyo to Los Angeles JUST TO SEE THE PLAY.  Can you believe that?  The journalist told me he'd been working on researching a book about John Okada but was beginning to think maybe he'd have to turn it into a work of fiction because he hasn't been able to find out enough to write a detailed non-fiction book about him - too many holes in the narrative because Okada died so young (at 49 in the early 70s).  I asked him what drew him to the book, and he said he'd found an old copy in a used bookstore in Tokyo and he was drawn to the cover - a sort of watercolor illustration of Mama looking through the dirty window of their grocery store that looked out onto a city street.  It was the anti-war sentiment that first struck him, and like the Egyptian scholar, the desire for justice denied, and surprisingly enough...identity.  He's about my age, and he says that his generation has felt a sort of questioning about identity having been raised after the war, and the next generation even more so wonders who they are, really.

There have been connections across time, as well:  While researching the play, I came across David Mura's FAMOUS SUICIDES OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE in which a Sansei looks for the truth about his father, a No-No Boy who eventually committed suicide after years of depression.  I was so struck by some of the passages, I looked up his contact info and found him on Facebook and friended him there. 

One of his FB friends is/was Garrett Hongo, a Sansei poet who was a director at what was then the Asian Exclusion Act in the mid-1970s - Garrett had directed me in a production of Momoko Iko's THE GOLD WATCH, a production which awakened and cemented a life-long love for Asian American theater in me.  I friended Garrett after not having seen him in well over thirty years and he almost came to our play before a death in the family pulled him away.  When he apologized to me, I realized that HE was the one who told me in 1977 that I HAD to read this book, that it was shocking that I hadn't already and he was going to kick my ass if I didn't.

There are other small bits of synchronicity and tangential connections, but here's one final one:  On Sunday, several members of the Okada family came from all over the country to see the show.  Roy Okada, John's brother, asked me, "Were you originally from Seattle?"  Yes.  "Was your father an engineer at Boeing?"  Oh my God, yes.  "I knew him!  We were friends!"  Jane Okada (I'm not sure if she was Roy's wife or sister-in-law) said, "Oh, yes.  I know your mother.  I just saw her two weeks ago.  She looks GOOD." 

I had no idea.

If you believe in signs (I do), then maybe this was all meant to be.  Either that, or Asian America is really just a small town and there's really only one or two degrees of separation from us all.  But then, how do you explain Egypt and Japan?  Maybe it's just the power of John Okada's book, a book he wrote from his heart, a book that was written way ahead of its time, but a book that is proving to be timeless and perhaps without boundaries.

Happy Moments and Hate Mail

First off, sorry I haven't kept up the blog AT ALL, but things have been far more hectic this time around than they were for INNOCENT WHEN YOU DREAM - maybe having a cast double the size of Innocent and a variety of replacements and minor fires to put out, combined with the happy problem of sold out houses has had something to do with it - plus (perhaps) being a couple of years older.  I meant to blog last week, since it was our halfway point, but I was behind at work because of a mysterious fainting spell, and before that, I meant to blog after our Opening Night, but I pretty much felt like someone had hit me over the head with an Acme anvil after we opened, so there are my excuses. 

It's also been a roller-coaster ride, with yesterday being the sharpest example:  On the one hand, we've been having great houses and great responses, like yesterday's matinee, in which many of the Okada family came, including John Okada's brother, his sister-in-law, and assorted nieces, nephews, and in-laws.  They were so gracious and amongst the sweetest people one could ever meet, and I'm incredibly grateful that they enjoyed the production.  On the other hand, someone I know from the Bay Area came to see the play, wrote to Frank Chin about it, and I got my first piece of hate mail...from Frank Chin.  It wasn't EXACTLY addressed to me, it was actually an email blast to numerous Asian American academics, activists, journalists, and writers, calling me "a White Racist", "an apologist for the JACL" (which isn't mentioned in either the book or the play), and a "gullible amateur" for having the gall to make changes in the adaptation from the book to the stage. 

We went out to dinner tonight and ran into some neighbors who saw the play and we talked about it; I mentioned the hate mail, and our neighbor cheered me up immensely, saying:  "That's how you know you're on the money - when you piss someone off."

Added Show 7pm Sunday, April 11th

ADDED SHOW FOR NO-NO BOY 7PM SUNDAY APRIL 11TH.


Due to overwhelming popular demand, we are adding an evening show this Sunday, April 11th at 7pm. Our actors and crew have been working their collective tailbones off, going far above and beyond the call of duty to get this play up and keep it up through sold-out houses, understudy rehearsals, put-in rehearsals, and the Miles has been kind enough to open up early and stay open late to accommodate our production, and we figure the best way to pay them back is to...add another show!

Seriously, besides giving our audience one more chance to see our play (we close on April 18th and we CAN NOT extend), we have added this show as a benefit for the actors and our crew. A portion is going towards the extra rental and staffing for the Miles, and all the rest of it is going to our actors and our crew. Come out and support your local theater and your local artists. If you’ve already seen the play, come see it again – there’s a chance you’ll see a different cast than you already saw since I think we’ve had slight variations in the cast for every performance so far! If you’ve already seen the play and you can’t make it on Sunday, April 11th, please tell your friends, some of whom haven’t been able to make it to our sold-out performances. And if you HAVEN’T seen it at all...we are getting close to selling out the rest of the run, so this might be your last chance at tickets.

This is a beautiful production with a wonderful cast and an amazing group of people, onstage and off, and this is our chance to thank them all.

Hope to see you at the Miles Memorial Playhouse at 7pm Sunday, April 11th!

Asia Pacific Arts Article by Ada Tseng

http://www.asiapacificarts.usc.edu/article@apa?answers_in_war_interview_with_the_cast_and_crew_of_no-no_boy_14902.aspx

Answers in War: interview with the cast and crew of No-No Boy

The stage adaptation of John Okada's No-No Boy, written by Ken Narasaki and directed by Alberto Isaac, plays in Santa Monica, California from March 26 to April 18.

by Ada Tseng
Date Published: 04/02/02

Over the years, there has been so much interest in adapting the 1957 landmark Japanese American novel No-No Boy into a film, that author John Okada's widow was sick of being approached about it.

"We actually tried to get the rights ten years ago," says Ken Narasaki, writer of the 2010 No-No Boy stage adapation. "But his widow was sort of fed up: 'You guys keep calling and bothering me, and you never do anything! Just leave me alone!'" Narasaki laughs at the memory, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We're just trying to make a play! Sorry!"

Eight years later in 2008, after Narasaki and their artistic team (which include Sharon Omi, Alberto Isaac, Emily Kuroda, and others) had completed a successful run of their play Innocent When You Dream, Narasaki and Omi decided to try again. By that time, the University of Washington Press owned the rights to No-No Boy.

"We said, 'We don't want the film rights. We just want the stage rights,'" says Narasaki. "And they said, 'Oh, no one's ever asked us for that before. How about $1000?''" Narasaki laughs. "And we said, 'How about less?' You know, cause we're a non-profit, mom-and-pop organization. So they ended up giving it to us for about a dollar."

That was the beginning of a two year journey to get No-No Boy onto the stage.

The term "no-no boy" refers to the loyalty oath that was given to Japanese Americans in the internment camps during World War II. Interned Japanese Americans were asked two questions: whether they were willing to serve in the US armed forces and whether they swore unqualified allegiance to the US during wartime. The "no-no boys" were the ones who answered "No" to both questions, angry that the US government expected them to fight on behalf of a country that had stripped their entire community of their constitutional rights. Most of the No-No Boys were moved to Tule Lake, where they were segregated for the rest of the war.

This stance caused a rift between the No-No Boys/draft resisters and the Japanese Americans veterans who believed answering "No" to these questions and refusing to fight was the cowardly thing to do -- that it gave the US government more reason to distrust their community.

"The veteran side -- the acclaim of the [all-Japanese American] 442 [Infantry Regiment] -- is more often told," actor Chris Tashima (Eto, Jun) explains, "Whereas, the No-Nos were shamed into silence. We didn't really get a chance to hear much about them, which is why the novel is so progressive and amazing, especially for its time."

Naraski's play starts where Okada's book begins: it's 1946, and the main character Ichiro is returning to his hometown of Seattle. He had just come from prison where he was sent for refusing to sign up for the draft. Ichiro is filled with self-loathing and doubt over the decisions he's made, and he's antagonized by many of his peers, including his little brother Taro, who consider him a traitor. Later, he's reunited with his friends Freddie, one a No-No Boy who just wants to drown his troubles in sex and booze, and Kenji, a veteran who has made peace with their differences. Kenji introduces him to Emi, a side character in Okada's novel who has been brought to the forefront of Narasaki's play. Emi becomes the only person who can provide Ichiro hope for redemption.

The No-No Boy producers assembled a talented group of Japanese American actors to fill these roles: Robert Wu as Ichiro, Keiko Agena as Emi, Sab Shimono as Pa, Sharon Omi as Ma, Jared Asato as Taro, John Miyasaki as Ralphie, Greg Watanabe as Kenji, Chris Tashima as Eto and Jun, and Emily Kuroda in various roles.

"One of the things I love about John Okada's book is that there's a whole spectrum of characters that represent all kinds of different individual reactions to what happened during the war," says Narasaki, "The characters are so vital, so alive. They're jumping out of their skin, they're so alive, and I loved them for that. So much Asian American literature is about how much we repress -- and that's there in the book too -- but these guys are live wires, so hungry to latch onto something that makes sense to them. It's this hunger for a life which I think is the reason that so many people fall in love with this book."

However, when No-No Boy was first published, both sides -- the veterans and resisters -- hated the book equally. Narasaki takes this as a sign that Okada got it right.

"The vets believed that he was trying to make heroes out of the No-No Boys," says Narasaki. "And the No-No Boys and the draft resisters get pissed at the book, because they say, 'Why are these people are so filled with self loathing? I'm proud of what I did!'

"But if you look at the book," Narasaki continues, "it's neither of those things. I think one of the things that [director] Alberto's been doing with this play and what the actors have been able to bring out -- how complicated that world really was."

"You have to remember that this was World War II," says Tashima. "Everybody was behind the war and patriotic. To even think about resisting or refusing to serve was unheard of -- let alone from a Japanese American and someone who was in camp. I cannot begin to guess the amount of pressure you'd face, especially being 17-18 years old. But these guys said, 'Wait a minute, this isn't right.'"

"My grandfather was in Manzanar," says actor John Miyasaki (Freddie), "so when I first heard about the 442 when I was really young, around 7 or 10, I asked him, 'How come you weren't in the 442? And my grandfather said, 'There's no way I'd be in the 442. There's no way I'd fight for a country who took everything away from us. And he looked at me and smiled, kind of like 'How could you ask me that question?' And I really never understood. I still don't know if I understand, but I'm hoping to find some of those answers for myself."

"I grew up in Hawaii," says actor Jared Asato (Taro), "and all the stories were from my grandpa and the people who had gone to war -- their perspective. So for me, to learn about all these other things that had happened was very eye-opening."

Adapting the novel into a play had many challenges: juggling multiple storylines, deciding which characters to focus on, moving in and out of multiple places, and getting out of Ichiro's head, where much of the book takes place.

"To be honest, when I read the book, I thought, 'This will be tough to put on the stage,'" says actor Robert Wu (Ichiro). "I couldn't see it initially, but they're doing some amazing things, working with the set designer [Alan E. Muraoka] to create the different environments. I'm impressed with how it's come together."

"Because there are so many locations, the set will be very simple and representational, but big," says Narasaki. "A lot of the worlds that we're going to create are going to be through sound and light. We're going to cover a lot of space, and the design element is going to be very important."

It was also important to maintain a balance: taking some creative liberties with the script in order to make the story more stage-worthy, while still maintaining the spirit of the original novel.

"Another nice thing that's in the play is the way Ken inserted the Momotaro story," says actor Keiko Agena (Emi). In the Japanese fairy tale, Momotaro the Peach Boy meets a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant, and they all have to work together in order to defeat the demons. The story is mentioned in Okada's book, but Narasaki threaded it throughout the entire play to act as a metaphor for Ichiro's psychological journey.

Miyasaki agrees, "It's really is the Goldilocks, the Jack and the Beanstalk of our culture. Almost every JA [Japanese American] kid knows that story, and I was really touched by that."

"There's a million different versions of the story," says Narasaki, "but there's one version where, when Momotaro is about to leave on his journey, he tells his parents, 'Thank you for raising me.' And the mother says, 'A parent's duty is to the child, the child's duty is to the parents.' And this is another thing that comes up in this play a lot: what are these duties and how far do you have to take them? There were just so many things about the story that was perfect for the play."

For the actors, one of the biggest challenges was re-creating a time period that was so drastically different than anything they had experienced themselves.

"A lot of us have relatives that are of that period or of that experience," says Miyasaki, "but trying to be in that late 40s, early 50s period -- the language, the dress, and even the interactions are so different. As an Asian American, you hardly get to go out for a '40s play or a period piece, period. It's exciting, but it's very challenging."

Tashima, a writer/director himself who has spent a lot of time looking at this history for other projects, was instrumental in helping the actors get into character.

"It's nice because there is so much material for us to draw from," Tashima says, "Documentary films, books, photographs. There's a lot of interviews of these guys. Some of them go back 20 years, so they're in their 60s, 70s, 80s by now, but at least you can get a sense of their personality, what they had inside, what they were fighting for."

Although the No-No Boy cast and crew seem to be having fun (most of them have worked together previously and known each other for years), they are very aware of the enormity of the project they've taken on. They are very aware of the controversy that still surrounds No-No Boy, especially amongst the aging generation of Japanese Americans, some of whom are still not interested in exploring their painful past.

"When we did the last show, Innocent When You Dream, I played the No-No Boy character," says Miyasaki, "We'd have all these people come in, and I didn't know if they were vets, but it felt like they were vets, a lot nisseis that were of that age. After the show, there'd be food and most of the time people would go talk in the lobby, but no one would talk to me because I was that character. Also, [jokes] because I led an alternative lifestyle, but mostly I think it was because I played the No-No Boy character."

"It's a good thing is that there's a lot riding on the play," says Tashima, "because it's such an important work and because these issues remain in our community. They haven't really been addressed, because each side is hesitant, and they're all moving on in their years. So hopefully, it will cause a big stir. The hardest thing will be getting those who need to hear it, into the house to see the play, because right away, they're gonna think, 'I don't want to see a play about No-No Boys. Hell no, I'm not going to go see that.'"

"But there may be one or two that might get dragged into it, or be curious, or be willing to hear," Tashima continues, "And hopefully, they'll come. Maybe curiosity will get the best of them, maybe it's been enough years. I'm hearing very interesting stories, where a vet will say something that you never thought you'd hear them say: just some form of acknowledgement of what the resisters did. And that's my hope. It's such a shame that so many people are taking this to their graves with some form of regret, so here's an opportunity for something to happen."

No-No Boy had its world premiere on March 27, 2010, and it continues at the Miles Memorial Playhouse in Santa Monica until April 18.

For more information, go to their official website and blog. Tickets are selling out, and an extra Sunday night show has been added on April 11th at 7pm, where John Miyasaki will be playing Ichiro and Mike Hagiwara will be playing Freddie.

LA Weekly Review

http://www.laweekly.com/2010-04-01/stage/theater-reviews-the-confusion-of-my-illusion-the-psychic-sweet-sue/2

GO  NO-NO BOY Grief and bitterness are the unspoken but constantly present co-stars of playwright Ken Narasaki's compelling drama, adapted from John Okada's classic Asian-American novel. At the end of World War II, second-generation Japanese-American Seattle teen Ichiro (Robert Wu) is finally released from U.S. prison, where he has served time for refusing to participate in the draft. Ichiro's refusal to join the U.S. Army has nothing to do with cowardice. Rather, his choice is the result of being torn between his beloved American upbringing and his Japanese cultural roots. When he returns home, however, he finds wreckage and bitterness where he once had friends and family. His Japan-loyal mother (Sharon Omi), who drove Ichiro to make his choice, lives in denial and has nearly lost her mind, supported by Ichiro's stoic, sad-faced father (Sab Shimono). Ichiro's former best friend Kenji (Greg Watanabe), despite coming home from the war horribly crippled, is more accepting of his buddy's choice. Assisted by Narasaki's deft dialogue, exchanges that belie the depth of fury and bitterness over the American dream turned sour, the play presents characters whose piercing suffering becomes eloquent. Director Alberto Isaac's deftly subtle production never overplays its emotional hand, opting instead for an understated melancholy that is both elegant and searing. Few dramas have as effectively depicted the sense of being torn between two cultures in a time of war — along with the unique Japanese-American tragedy arising from being simultaneously victorious and defeated. Wu's devastating boy-next-door turn as Ichiro depicts a figure desperately torn between his American upbringing and his Japanese cultural roots — and who discovers that both bring little but sorrow. Other ferociously moving turns are offered by Shimono's pained but undemonstrative father and Omi's brittle, hate-filled mother. Miles Memorial Playhouse, 1130 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through April 18. (800) 838-3006, brownpapertickets.com/event/91917. Timescape Arts Group. (Paul Birchall)

Somebody Mess with Texas

You've all heard about the ultra-right in Texas lobbying for an ultra-right-wing view of history in their textbooks...sounds like a pretty bad idea, right?  Here's an example of how it affects those of us who want some good to come out of the Japanese American internment, namely greater awareness of our precious civil rights:  Texas would like to puncture that idea with some spurs that jingo, jango, jingo.  (from Angry Asian Man - http://www.angryasianman.com/2010/03/texas-board-of-education-to-rewrite.html

3.17.2010

texas board of education to rewrite japanese internment

Some news from last week that I can't believe is actually happening... In Texas, the Board of Education approved a social studies curriculum that will put a conservative stamp on history and economics textbooks, stressing the superiority of American capitalism, questioning the Founding Fathers' commitment to a purely secular government and presenting Republican political philosophies in a more positive light: Texas Conservatives Win Curriculum Change.

The board, whose members are elected, has influence beyond Texas because the state is one of the largest buyers of textbooks. In the digital age, however, that influence has diminished as technological advances have made it possible for publishers to tailor books to individual states.

Among other things, here's the "tailoring" that really got my attention:

Mr. Bradley won approval for an amendment saying students should study "the unintended consequences" of the Great Society legislation, affirmative action and Title IX legislation. He also won approval for an amendment stressing that Germans and Italians as well as Japanese were interned in the United States during World War II, to counter the idea that the internment of Japanese was motivated by racism.

Texas, what is wrong with you? Why do you want to brainwash your kids? Sadly, this clearly illustrates that there are plenty of powerful people out there who would like rewrite the world into place where the wartime incarceration of thousands and thousands of innocent Japanese Americans was justified. This, among many other parts of American history the Board has taken a scalpel to.

I'm sure Michelle Malkin is jumping for joy.

A 24 hour Blazing Hot Deal for Blacklava One Hot Minute Followers!

A 24 hour  Blazing Hot Deal for Blacklava One Hot Minute Followers!

“No-No Boy”

A new play by Ken Narasaki.

Directed by Alberto Isaac

Based on the novel by John Okada.

$16.00 tickets for any available seat!

(regular price: $25.00)

Where?

Miles Memorial Playhouse

1130 Lincoln Blvd
Santa Monica, CA 90403

When?

March 27 – April 18, 2010

Friday and Saturdays at 8pm
Saturday and Sunday Matinees at 3pm

(March 27th, 8pm and April 11th, 3pm sold out)

Who?

The cast (in alphabetical order) Keiko Agena, Jared Asato, Michael Hagiwara, Emily Kuroda, John Miyasaki, Sharon Omi, Sab Shimono, Chris Tashima, Greg Watanabe and Robert Wu.

Why?

It’s gonna be awesome.

Week Two Down

Actually, we've just begun Week Three, which means we're almost halfway through rehearsal and I think we're in pretty good shape right now, knock wood.  We're already doing run-throughs, which I think is pretty amazing - I've been in shows where the first real run-through was dress rehearsal and maybe one where the first real run-through was the first preview.  It's good for us because this play has so many scenes and locations; this way, we can see how it all hangs together.

It's interesting from a writing standpoint too, because the staging and the evolution of the play requires line changes and cuts that come from pure necessity or whatever the opposite of that is; in other words, sometimes lines are needed for transitions or to cover exits; and in this case, there were a number of brief interstitial lines that I wrote to cover what I thought would be blackout transitions, but Alberto has figured out a way to get from scene to scene with no blackouts, so most of those transitional lines are now gone.  It's brilliant on Alberto's part because it makes the entire play flow better and we have a lot more space than I originally imagined, so we'll be able to do a lot of transitions through light shifts alone.

We have a great cast - something we already knew - but it's always interesting to see how everyone works, and in this case, everyone is incredibly conscientious.  Last week, we were doing some sound recordings, and people were going in one at a time while the rest of the cast waited their turn.  Darlene, our stage manager, said that it felt like study hall - the room was almost dead silent, as everyone was studying their scripts.  A room full of eight or nine actors and no one was talking?  Hard to believe, but that went on for half an hour before rehearsal proper began.

So far, so good - we're using almost every single minute of rehearsal from start to finish, every night, but the time is just FLYING by, which I guess time does when you're having fun.  I love these guys.

More No-No Boys and Girls News

Ken Takemoto has a great profile in the Sunday LA Times (see previous posting) and Keiko Agena, who plays Emi in the play, will be on Castle tonight (Monday, 10pm on ABC).  Of course, she should have her own show starring her, but she doesn't at the moment, which is TV's loss (for the moment) and our gain!

Ken Takemoto

Ken Takemoto has done costumes and props for every show our sort of ad-hoc group has done together.  He's got a collection of things to rival a professional prop shop and between what he has, what he can borrow, and his peerless thrift-store shopping skills, Mr. T is like a one-man costume shop.  He's a terrific artist, a great man, clearly well-loved, and for good reason.  We love having Ken working with us on our plays for all of the above reasons, plus...we just love hanging out with him.  Apparently, the LA Times recognized what a singular human being he is, and thus the story below:

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-takemoto7-2010mar07,0,4068058.story
Ken Takemoto: East West Players' Mr. Fix-It
The troupe relies on its prop master to provide the perfect piece. Hey, what's in that Dumpster?

To understand why East West Players loves Ken Takemoto, ask about "the duck." The fake fowl -- a Rube Goldbergian contraption he created for a 2008revival of "Pippin" -- shows just how clever, conscientious and cheap the 75-year-old prop master can be.


"Ken has spoiled us," says Tim Dang, producing artistic director of East West, the nation's leading Asian American stage company. "He can find almost anything, and what he can't find he can make himself."

A script doesn't always describe what a prop should look like, he adds, "but Ken knows exactly what is wanted because he really listens to the play and the director. If we need picture frames, he knows what kind of frame the character would have and what period it should be."

Theatrical property departments are responsible for securing and preparing every object the actors handle as well as providing decor items and accessories that help establish a scene's sense of time and place.

"My role is to make a play feel authentic," says Takemoto, whose 65th East West show -- "Cave Quest" -- runs through March 14. Usually, he's happy if his work goes unnoticed: "What's onstage should seem so natural no one knows what I did."

But given the downtown theater's cultural connections, he takes pride in hearing people talk about the accuracy with which he dresses a set. "I like when they say, 'Oh, that looks like my auntie's house!' "

Although prop people rarely get much glory, their ability to beg, borrow or build whatever they can't afford to buy makes a big difference.

"What the audience may think are small things are things we depend on," says "Cave Quest" director Diane Rodriguez, an associate producer and director of new play production for the Center Theatre Group. She notes that Les Thomas' tale -- in which a video game creator visits an American Buddhist nun's Tibetan hideaway -- "is challenging because it takes place in a very small, specific place. The nun has very few, very particular things she carried up or people brought. Ken helped root us in reality by creating a world that we really believe in."

For "Cave Quest," Takemoto tracked down or improvised a number of hard-to-find objects. The nun, for instance, needed a shawl of a certain color and texture that would look good under black light. The costume designer found fabric at a daunting $35 a yard. (The props budget was a few hundred dollars.) The ever-frugal Takemoto hit the thrift circuit: "I got the shawl at Goodwill for $4.95 and I got the senior discount."

"When we saw what he had done," says Rodriguez, "there was this moment of, 'We are so happy you are here!' "

Besides his stagecraft skills, Takemoto is known for his generosity and a joie de vivre undimmed by age. The white-haired Hawaii native is decades older than most of his colleagues at East West, where he has worked as a free-lancer since 1989. "But he's not a stodgy old person," says Meg Imamoto, the company's director of production. "Mr. T is everyone's favorite uncle" -- albeit one who can get a bit feisty.

"Sometimes he's Mr. Grumpy," says actress Emily Kuroda. "But he's got a heart of gold." Takemoto has lent a hand -- once, even his house -- to many a small ensemble and struggling artist. "Someone couldn't find a venue for a play," Kuroda recalls, "and he emptied his bottom floor and let them put it on."

"When I'm working, I can get stressed out," Takemoto admits one recent afternoon as he relaxes between prop-shopping runs at his home, a tidy Craftsman in West Adams. "I just want everything to be right."

As he sits in his living room smiling a grandfatherly smile, it's hard to think of him as a grump -- or to guess he's developed a nice side niche as an actor and dancer. After making his debut as an extra in an '80s-era Stevie Wonder music video, he has been active in TV and movies, playing a variety of what he calls "older Asian man roles" including a martial arts master and a retired kamikaze pilot. He also has appeared in commercials and print ads for products as varied as Oreos and Viagra.

"I like to keep busy," he says. This month, in addition to "Cave Quest," he just finished handling props for Grateful Crane Ensemble's "The Betrayed," which closed last weekend.

Up next are two Santa Monica productions -- he is prop master and costume designer for Ken Narasaki's adaptation of the John Okada novel "No-No Boy," which Timescape Arts Group will open March 27, and is rehearsing a dance piece with choreographer Keith Glassman that premieres April 2-3 at Highways Performance Space.

His hectic schedule may be his way of making up for lost time -- he didn't get involved in theater until he was in his 50s. He grew up in Honolulu, the son of a cement mixer driver from Japan and a Japanese American dressmaker. After graduating with a degree in applied design from the University of Hawaii, he moved to Los Angeles, where he began teaching at Fremont High. Before he retired more than three decades later, he had taught at half a dozen campuses. "My goal was to experience working with kids of all different backgrounds," he says.

In the late '70s, Takemoto started to study modern and Afro-Haitian dance. In 1989, he enrolled in East West's summer conservatory, where he proved to be a natural when it came to props. At summer's end, East West asked him to work on its revival of "Company." "From there," he says, "I kept going."

When he begins a production, he attends readings and meetings with the director and designers. "I see whether things are decorative or are going to be thrown around." Even mundane pieces -- bowls or chopsticks -- must be carefully chosen based on historical accuracy and the play's content and design.

He searches for items in East West's warehouse and a personal stash he accumulated at auctions, on overseas trips and by picking up stuff left at the curb. "We joke that if we throw something away, Mr. T climbs into the Dumpster and takes it home," says Imamoto. He also scours secondhand shops and ethnic markets -- and whips up his own creations.

Not all of Takemoto's gambits pay off. Once he sealed a roast turkey with polyurethane, hoping it would last through a play's entire run. With a week to go, juices started seeping. "It was a mess," he sighs.

He worked as art director for the 1997 Oscar-winning live-action short "Visas and Virtue." He has designed costumes for East West six times, winning two Dramalogue awards, and has appeared in six East West productions, including Stephen Sondheim's "Follies" and Philip Kan Gotanda's "Sisters Matsumoto."

"Ken has a striking look," says Dang. "He has a certain character that comes through in his face and his persona that you don't see a lot."

As he heads into his late 70s, Takemoto, who is single, plans to continue acting. He isn't ready to give up the life of a prop master either. While showing a visitor his home collection of treasures, he happily recounts past prop triumphs -- keeping an ear out for a call about his latest audition.

His favorite story is about the duck that now is part of East West lore. In "Pippin," the hero experiences an epiphany after trying in vain to save a boy's sick pet. Takemoto had to find a bird that could move from actor to actor and then keel over. Robots were expensive. Dolls were clunky. He finally hit upon the idea of mounting a wooden duck he got in Chinatown on a remote-control toy car that he could flip by forcing it to a sudden stop. He covered the creature with "feathers" made from flattened pieces of pie pan he meticulously embossed and colored using chopsticks and ink.
"It looked great and moved just how they wanted," Takemoto says. "And it only cost $10 for the duck and $30 for the car -- and the pie pans were free."

Our No-No Promo by Video Designer John Flynn

No No Boy, The Play from John Flynn on Vimeo.

Steve Sumida

As some of you already know, Asian America is a small town, and there are often only one or two degrees of separation from person to person.  One of the guys who helped discover and republish Okada's NO-NO BOY was Stephen Sumida, the head of the American Ethnic Studies Department at the University of Washington.  I was surprised when I returned to the novel a couple of years ago with an eye towards adapting it when I saw his name mentioned in Frank Chin's Afterward in the novel because I had played Steve's son in a 1977 production of Momoko Iko's THE GOLD WATCH.  Still another coincidence and proof of how Asian America is a small town:  Greg Watanabe, the actor playing Kenji, turns out to be Stephen's cousin.  Years ago, Stephen hoped that HE could play Kenji in the movie version of the book - I hope he gets to see Greg, who will be brilliant in the role.

Greg struck up an email correspondence with Stephen about the play and asked if we could include some of his thoughts in this blog - Stephen graciously said we could, so here are a couple of excerpts from his emails to Greg:

"Ted Maneki told me about your being in Ken's play.  That stirs up a lot of thought and memory for me, about Ken and about No-No Boy.  I've just finished teaching the novel to 152 students in one class, 45 in another.  I tell you, even though we'd like to think that teaching and learning would help to resolve conflicts that are comforting for us later generations to resolve, the splits between veterans and No-No Boys, among Nisei, are still there, I think mostly because of ignorance about a lot of things.  (...)  What do you think, in the context of the play--is it better to have been a Yes-Yes Boy who resisted only when your draft notice arrived in the summer of 1944, or to have been a No-No Boy who protested from the start, in response to the 1943 "Loyalty Oath"?  Back in the day when we talked about how good it would be to make a movie of No-No Boy, we'd talk about how I'd be Kenji.  In class, I mimic Kenji's best moment in the novel, when he comes to Ichiro's rescue from Taro's goons pantsing Ichiro in the parking lot.  This scene is Okada having fun.  It's a samurai movie starring the one-legged swordsman.  When I do the scene in class, I take my wooden sword, bokken, or when my wife isn't watching to forbid me to do it, I take a live blade, a katana that goes "swish" when I cut that guy's wrist.  That's a good scene, Greg.  What's your part in Ken's play?"
***

"You asked if you could share my earlier messages about No-No Boy with Ken.  By all means, please do so.  I'd be more than happy to discuss any of it and more with you and Ken.  Here's one piece that I don't think I told you yet.  About four years ago a student in the big lecture class, all excited, came to me and said, If Ichiro is like Okada's friend the No-No Boy Jim Akutsu, then is Kenji like Okada himself?  If so, what's Okada's handicap, to match Kenji's missing leg?  I don't know why my reply was so quick.  I said, Okada didn't have a tongue.  His tongue was cut out.  I explained that as a Nisei veteran of the Military Intelligence Service, Okada was ordered not to speak of his war experiences for thirty years--silenced until 1975, beyond his death.  He could not write his own war story.  He couldn't even tell his children (...) He chose instead to write not about a war hero, whom few if any could emulate in life once the war was over, but about the lowest one in Nikkei society, a No-No Boy.  If the lowest one can survive, then we all can survive.  So, if Okada gave Kenji something of his own character and concerns, then you have a huge role to play, full of compassion, irony, wit, and an understanding of pain.  I'm now grading papers about the novel, and I see all over again the struggle people have to grasp and articulate some of its most basic truths.  That's why your coming production is still so timely."
 ***


"You know, you might tell Ken Narasaki that the current wariness about
distinguishing Resisters from No-No Boys may be a red herring--as usual
with red herrings, one that serves somebody's purpose.  In nearly thirty
years Gail and I have met No-No Boys (who answered No No or, as Soji
writes, refused to answer 27 and 28 at all) whose accounts of how they
were punished are really various.  I don't think the government had the
means or comprehension or whatever to treat them consistently across the
ten concentration camps.  For example:  one was a fourteen-year-old boy
when he was required to answer the 1943 questionnaire, and being a very,
very good boy, he understood that 27 and 28 were false questions, so he
answered No No thinking he was right.  He probably saluted when he wrote
those two final answers in the questionnaire.  This boy was then
segregated from his family and sent to Chicago, his punishment being his
exile and lack of support.  Just a kid.  This man, Yuzuru Takeshita, then
carried the burden of thinking he had done wrong after all, but he didn't
know what.  More than forty years later he heard me speak about the novel
No-No Boy at the U of Michigan.  He stood up and told his story.  The
scholars in the room were struck dumb--I mean, when was the last time a
book come to life for them in the actual body and testimony of somebody in
the room?  Professor Takeshita wept when he talked.  He said that for
forty years he'd thought he had committed some wrong.  And now to hear
about No-No Boy he felt exonerated.  Some years later his wife repeated
some of this, when she said I was the one who had made her husband cry one
night!  Yuzuru Takeshita was a prominent Professor of Public Health, at
UM, at that time.  He had spent his entire career trying to do right, for
everybody, to make up for his unknown wrong.

Another story is of a prominent figure here in Seattle, Tsuguo "Ike"
Ikeda, who stood up in a class I ran especially for Nisei.  We ended by
discussing No-No Boy.  Being of Seattle, the Nisei knew the setting and
even characters.  Ike told everyone that he answered 27 Yes, but he was
puzzled and then bothered by 28:  you know, how can one "forswear
allegiance" to the Japanese Emperor unless one has already sworn
allegiance in the first place?  So, being upright and conscientious, just
getting into draft age, Ike Ikeda answered "No" to 28, he said.  This
makes him a No-No Boy.  Then he said he doesn't understand it, but they
drafted him anyway.  The eyes of the Nisei in the room were spinning.
They said, Ike, we know you for sixty years, and we never knew you're a
No-No Boy!  That ended our course.  It was terrific.  Some of the Nisei,
by the way, couldn't even recall that there had been a questionnaire, and
the veterans were away in the military when the Resisters (who used to be
called "No-No Boys") made their protests.  So much of the hostility is
based on less than hearsay.

As you may know, and I hope Ken knows, an actual model for Ichiro was
Okada's friend, the No-No Boy Jim Hajime Akutsu.  Frank Emi and Frank Abe
say that Akutsu was not a No-No Boy but was a Resister, because Akutsu was
not sent to Tule Lake after he answered No No in 1943.  So, they argue,
Akutsu must have been a Yes Yes Boy, served his draft orders in 1944,
resisted, and charged, tried, and convicted of draft evasion.  But to his
death in 1998 Akutsu (and his surving brother Gene, also a No-No Boy)
insisted that he answered No, because of horrid experiences he, his
brother, and their mother had suffered in camp.  I have a photocopy, from
Jim Akutsu, of his draft order.  It's dated June 10, 1944.  It orders him
to report to he pre-induction physical exam--on May 21, 1944.  Akutsu knew
that this was the other shoe dropping, how they would get him for
answering No a year earlier.  "I was framed," he said.  He was charged,
tried, and convicted of draft evasion.  When he tried to explain the false
order he had been served, the judge said, "Did you or did you not appear
for your physical as ordered?"  "Well, no sir, but you see . . ."  "Did
you or did you not report?  That's the only question that matters to this
court."

For purposes of Ken's play, he's right in thinking that the Resister-No-No
Boy difference is not very important, given the different ways that No-No
Boys were treated.  Maybe to the Resisters theirs is a cleaner case.  They
were Yes-Yes Boys who later resisted the draft.  But were they?  Frank Emi
still talks as if he refused to answer 27 and 28.  You see, there's a
smokescreen hiding the Resisters from clear view, too.

By the way, Greg--the place called Club Oriental in the novel is still
here, on Maynard Alley, in Chinatow, except its name is the Wah Mee Club,
padlocked since February 1983 when three young Chinatown thugs massacred
13 gamblers in the upstairs room.  It's a creepy place.  You want to see
it some day?  A student and I stopped at the doorway the other night.
Down the alley is the parking lot, still, where your Kenji whacked Taro's
goon with his cane, twice.  This is one of the few clubs where Nisei were
welcomed to drink and dance, and maybe gamble, after the war.  This is
where Okada taught his new buddy Jim Akutsu to drink.

I find myself telling you all this because I have to keep these stories
alive--too much even to tell in my classes.  Thanks very much for Soji's
words.  Can you tell me--may I forward his message to my classes?  Soji
and his Camp Dance came to us a few years ago.  The old people--this
includes me--were sentimental about it all with no shame.--Steve

Stephen H. Sumida, Professor

First Week of Rehearsal

We've just finished our first week of rehearsal, and I've got to tell you, everyone should write a play and everyone should have the experience of sitting in on rehearsals for something that's been rattling around in your skull for a while because it's such a revelation to watch the disembodied voices in your head start to come to life.  It's really helpful if you've got a dream cast of actors...

 

(from left to right, Director Alberto Isaac, Sound Engineer Yoshi Irie, cast members Greg Watanabe, Robert Wu, Chris Tashima, Jared Asato (partially hidden), and Sab Shimono)

  

Sab Shimono, Keiko Agena

  

Jared Asato (foreground), Greg Watanabe

  

Chris Tashima (behind him is publicist Junko Goda and Alberto Isaac)

  

(Super Stage Manager/Producer Darlene Miyakawa, Costume Designer Ken Takemoto, cast member Sharon Omi)

  

(John Miyasaki, Sab Shimono, Jared Asato, Chris Tashima, Robert Wu)

  

Master Thespian Sab Shimono

...(there are more great actors in this cast, by the way, whose pictures you'll see in future posts, including Emily Kuroda, who took these pics)...

It also helps to have great designers...

Ken Takemoto

 

Set Designer Alan Muraoka

  

Video Designer John Flynn, Ph.D - he's the one whose mouth isn't open

...(Jeremy Pivnick, Dave Iwataki, and Chris Komuro are not pictured here because they couldn't make it to that first rehearsal)...

And one of the best theater artists/director/actor/writer/dramaturgs I've ever met:

 

Director Alberto Isaac - he's the smart-looking one.

I've been lucky enough to have acted in a few productions over the years, and have been lucky enough to have sat in on rehearsals for the plays I've written in my late-blooming career, and every one of them has been different from the rest. 

This one has been an exceptional revelation to me for a variety of reasons, including the fact that this is the first real adaptation I've ever attempted, this is also the most "developed" play I've ever worked on (more readings and and more rewrites than anything else I've ever written), and it's also a piece that's based on a book that's been important to a number of Asian American artists and readers, so there's a certain obligation to NOT SCREW IT UP.  So, it's a little scary, but luckily, it's hard to be scared when you have the team that we have, and maybe more importantly to me, the director that we have. 

Alberto Isaac has directed almost all of my plays, and I have a fresh new awe of him in this process.  I might've mentioned once before that Alberto is the most literate director I've ever worked with; one of my favorite notes during INNOCENT WHEN YOU DREAM was about a flirtation around a hospital death bed:  In trying to get across what he saw happening, Alberto tossed off..."In the charnel house...a seed is sprouting."  In a rehearsal this week, one of his notes was "In vino veritas".

I've gone on and on before about Alberto (mostly on our Innocent When You Dream MySpace blog...how 2007!) so suffice to say here, to my eyes, he's at the absolute top of his game here in this first week.  Alberto's a master of what's going on underneath the surface, which is part of what makes him such a brilliant actor, but also why he's so perfect for directing Japanese American writing, where almost EVERYTHING is underneath the surface.  And it's treacherous down there, below the Asian American surface - rip-currents above and down further below, cold water currents that run in the opposite direction from the warmer flows closer to the sun.  He's also a master of contradictions - again, perfect for a people who are themselves masters of compartmentalization.

The work he's doing with this play is detailed, textured, and as precise yet subtle as a pointillist's painting.  Without giving away too much, let me just say he had a couple of the actors improvise killing each other, and then at the moment of the fatal blow, he had them envision the other actor become someone they love.  The results made my hair stand on end.  I told him how much I admired what he had done, and he said, "That's the first step.  I need ten more."  Many of the scenes in the book are moody and internal, but those values can be deadly onstage, so what Alberto is doing to them is to give the actors purpose and objectives that turn them into live wires unable to relax because they're all looking for something, all trying, in their own ways, to figure out what's next.

This is also the fastest I've ever seen him work.  Part of it is a function of the schedule:  We don't have a lot of time and we have a huge cast with various time conflicts, so in order to accommodate everyone and to use our time as efficiently as possible, Alberto's been putting scenes on their feet from the very first day.  It probably helps that Alberto's directed every reading and many cast members have been part of those readings, so in some ways, we've already done a lot of the table work he normally likes to do in the beginning to guide everyone into the same world.  Still, at the end of this first week, there are still things we haven't touched, except for the first read-through of the first day, and the heat is on.  But he's already done a lot, and our experienced and game cast has gone for it with him, getting us off to a great start.

Knock wood, there's a lot to do and every week from here to Opening Night is going to be different from the last, but we're off to a great start and deep into middle age, I'm getting a great education from a great director and a great cast.

A Brief Historical Overview

I sketched out a brief history of the events leading up to the beginning of the play (and the book) for possible dramaturgical support for our audience and being constitutionally unable to throw out anything I've ever written, I thought I'd post it here for your edification, even though you probably hardly need it.  It's a little bit dry (I was going for brevity), but maybe you'll find it helpful: 

A Brief History of the Japanese American Interment and the Events Leading to the Play:

On December 7th, the Japanese Imperial Army attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States entered World War II. In the days immediately following that attack, the FBI began rounding up and arresting any Japanese “non-citizens” (it should be noted that Japanese immigrants were forbidden by law to become citizens) who were judged to be community leaders, such as teachers, ministers, and business leaders, taking them to isolated prisons. Japanese Americans serving in the U.S. Army were declared to be “enemy aliens” and were discharged.

All suspected “enemy” aliens were ordered to surrender short wave radios and cameras, and in January, 1942, Attorney General Francis Biddle began issuing orders establishing strategic areas along the West Coast, requiring the removal of alien Japanese from these areas. On February 19th, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 authorizing the removal of all persons of Japanese ancestry from the Western half of the three West Coast states and the southern portion of Arizona. On March 18th, FDR created the War Relocation Authority and by March 22nd, the first large groups of Japanese Americans began to be moved to the Army-operated Manzanar Detention Center.

On March 23rd, Japanese Americans were ordered evacuated from the Seattle area and the removal of all people of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast to temporary detention centers – often horse racing tracks where families were lodged in horse stalls, like Santa Anita, Tanforan, and the Puyallup Fairgrounds. Within six months, these people were then shipped to ten different internment camps scattered throughout the interior of the United States, mostly in remote desert areas or swamp lands.
In January 1943, the Secretary of War Henry Stimson reversed the order calling Japanese Americans “enemy aliens” and announced the formation of an all-Japanese American Combat Unit. On February 8th, a “loyalty questionnaire” was distributed to all persons over 17 years of age for Army recruitment, segregation and relocation. About ten percent of the draft-age men either answered the final two questions (the infamous Questions 27 and 28), which read in part “Are you willing to serve on combat duty wherever ordered?” and “...will you forswear any form of obedience to the Japanese emperor?” “No” and “No”, becoming known as NO-NO BOYS. Those who signed “No, No” were segregated in a camp at Tule Lake, some arguing that Question 28 was a trick question because to “forswear” loyalty to the Japanese emperor implied that they WERE loyal to the emperor in the first place, while others signed “No” to Question 27, arguing that the government’s actions stripped them of their rights as citizens, so if they weren’t citizens, they could not be subject to the draft. Meanwhile, 315 Nisei who refused the draft were tried and found guilty of draft evasion, and subsequently sent to Federal penitentiaries in Leavenworth, Kansas and McNeil Island in Washington State. The term “No-No Boy” eventually became a blanket term for all dissenters and resisters.

The camps were closed in 1945, and many Japanese Americans returned to a hostile reception on the West Coast. Japanese American veterans returned in 1945 and 1946, while those who were sent to prison came back after serving three years with time off for good behavior. Although Truman would issue a blanket pardon for all draft resisters in 1947, the Japanese American community was not so forgiving, and it is here where the play begins.

A Sketch

We are lucky enough to have Alan Muraoka (the art director/set designer, not the actor) design our set for No-No Boy and here's a sketch from the audience's perspective at the Miles.  You can't really see the set, which will be deceptively minimal (deceptive because it will still involve quite a bit of work and will take up quite a bit of space), but as I hope you can see from the sketch, will look very cool when actors are on it!

An Open Letter to Theater Artistic Directors and Literary Managers

We’d like to invite you to what we modestly believe will be a very important play: Our adaptation of John Okada’s NO-NO BOY. Okada’s book, first published in 1957, has been credited with helping to create what was then an entirely new genre of fiction – Asian American fiction. Okada’s novel – angry, despairing, and focused on the kind of self-hatred that the anti-Japanese prejudice during World War II and its aftermath, was unlike anything written before and though it may not have made as large a mark on American culture as, say, A RAISIN IN THE SUN, it was to many Asian American readers in the 1970s and beyond, just as powerful a wake-up call. I know it was for me.
Though a variety of filmmakers have tried to adapt the novel into a screenplay, no one had ever asked for the stage rights before, and we got them from the University of Washington Press two years ago. We began by creating as faithful an adaptation as possible, but working with award-winning director Alberto Isaac and a talented group of actors who helped us hear the adaptation out loud, it became clear that we would have to rework the novel, and over the past two years, we’ve been workshopping and reading the play and we finally have something we feel is both true to the spirit of Okada’s novel, and is an exciting new play that captures the spectrum of emotional responses felt by Japanese Americans returning to the West Coast after internment in American concentration camps, veterans returning from the war, and draft resisters who refused to sign a loyalty oath forced upon them, while speaking to an audience still grappling with issues of war, civil rights, and what it means to be an American in the 21st Century.

We’ve put together an extraordinary cast and a design team made up of artists all working for far less than they normally would because they believe in this piece and this play as much as we do. We believe this production will be exceptional, which is one of the reasons we hope you’ll come see it, but the main reason we'd like to invite you is this: We believe this play, like the book, should have a long life and should be seen by generations to come. We believe that the issues raised in this play are universal and will speak to a broad spectrum of the audience. We believe that you may wish to consider this play for your theater.  We know you're bombarded by submissions; instead of adding another play to your "to be read" pile, why not come to see a production you're almost certain to enjoy?

Please check out our website at: www.nonoboy2010.com to see our cast and production team. We run Fridays and Saturdays at 8pm, Saturdays and Sundays at 3pm at the Miles Memorial Playhouse in Santa Monica, and if you’d like industry tickets, you can call Sharon Omi at: 310.592.1160 or email us at: nonoboy2010@gmail.com

Hope to see you soon!

Hiroshi Kashiwagi

I just reserved my ticket to Hiroshi Kashiwagi's THE BETRAYED at the Tateuchi Democracy Forum.  Coincidentally, while searching for photographic images for possible use in our own play, I came across this great photo of a young and handsome Hiroshi: 

Soji Kashiwagi, Hiroshi Kashiwagi, and THE BETRAYED

Re-post from Discover Nikkei: 

When we got our grant from the CCLEP to produce NO-NO BOY, we got on a conference call to find out how it all works, we were surprised to find that Soji Kashiwagi and the Grateful Crane Ensemble had also received a grant this year to do Soji's father Hiroshi Kashiwagi's play, THE BETRAYED.  Talking to Soji later, we both figured that maybe the time had come to discuss this sometimes explosive subject - he was partly motivated by the same idea that we were, which is:  Better to talk about it now before it's too late and it all just becomes academic.

Soji wrote a beautiful essay about his upcoming project for Discover Nikkei, and with his, and Discover Nikkei's permission, I'm posting it here: 

http://www.discovernikkei.org/en/journal/2010/2/4/the-betrayed/

“The Betrayed,” Why Now is the Time

By Soji Kashiwagi



“Tule Lake, Tule Lake—that

was a name I dared not mention

spoken warily, always with

hesitation, never voluntarily....”

--an excerpt from “A Meeting at Tule Lake,” a poem by Nisei writer Hiroshi Kashiwagi.


Growing up in San Francisco, I remember hearing my father first talk about camp at a community event held at the Buddhist Church in 1975. Unlike other Nisei, who preferred to keep the camp story buried deeply in the distant past, Hiroshi Kashiwagi, my dad, was out there telling it like it was—and he didn’t pull any punches.

His speeches were fiery, his poems angry and his plays about camp revealed the injustice and the dark side of our nation’s history, and how this darkness blanketed an entire community.

His was a voice that needed to be heard, especially by young, college-aged Sansei coming of age in the late 60s and early 70’s, many questioning their identity and confused as Hell about this thing called “camp.” Their parents certainly didn’t talk about it, and if they did, many would laugh it off as a “good time” experience.

But deep down these Sansei knew that something terrible had happened, and through my father and a few other Nisei like Edison Uno in San Francisco and Sue Kunitomi Embrey in Los Angeles, all of a sudden they were hearing the truth, from people who were there. It made them angry, and inspired them to fight.

And yet, despite all the time my father spent talking about camp, there were certain things he never talked about: Tule Lake, being a No-No Boy and renouncing his U.S. citizenship. Not to community folk, not to friends, and not to us in his family.

As he writes in his poem above, it was something he “dared not mention.”

Safe to say that “Tule Lake” and “No No Boy” are like dirty words in the Japanese American community. “No No Boys” were those so called “trouble-makers” and “disloyals” who either answered “No-No” or refused to answer the infamous government-issued loyalty questions #27 and #28. And Tule Lake was the camp where the government segregated them.



Here are the questions imposed upon every inmate, age 17 years of age and older:

Question 27
Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty wherever ordered?

Question 28
Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any and all attacks by foreign or domestic forces and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese Emperor or any other foreign government, power, or organization?



Of all the things that took place back then, these two questions were without a doubt the most divisive, painful and insulting things to happen to them in camp. Families were torn apart. Friendships ended. Long-time relationships—severed. All of a sudden, the community was split in two. Those who answered “Yes-Yes” were declared “loyal” to the U.S., and many went on to serve in the military, or were released from camp and went off to college or to jobs in the Midwest or back East. Those who answered “No-No,” qualified their answers or refused to answer, were branded “disloyal” to the only country they knew, and sent to Tule Lake.

In all, some 14,000 “No-No’s” were shipped from the nine other camps to what became the “Tule Lake Segregation Center.” That was about 10 percent of the JA population at the time. While they were there, over 5,000 renounced their U.S. citizenship under duress, and in protest of the shabby treatment they were receiving.

The fall-out from all of this? Those who answered “Yes-Yes” and went on to serve with distinction in the 100th/442nd/MIS have been hailed as heroes in our community, and deservedly so. No doubt about it. Their stories have been told and retold, and need to continue to be told so that the world will know about the men who “went for broke.”

However, for those who answered “No-No,” the stigma attached to being called “disloyal” and one of those “troublemakers” has never gone away, and tragically, has become the accepted truth in our community. This is thanks to much reinforcement from individuals and groups within the community who vehemently disagreed with their stand, and have done their best to denigrate or simply ignore those who chose to dissent and protest.

It’s a classic example of the “good JA’s” versus the “bad JA’s”

The “bad JA’s” have been ignored, shunned and shamed into silence, and unfortunately, they are so entrenched that many refuse to talk even to this day, and even more have already gone to their graves, with this burden of shame still on their shoulders.

In this context, you have my father.



When I was in high school, I used to work part-time for a Chinese American newspaper located in San Francisco’s Chinatown. One of the assignments I was given was to go and write something on the San Francisco Presidio. What exactly I was supposed to write about I don’t remember. What I do remember is walking into the Presidio Army Museum, and meeting a man named Eric Saul, and that’s where I first learned about the amazing and heroic story of the 100th/442nd Regimental Combat Team.

Saul had done extensive research on the subject, and was an expert on everything about the 100th/442nd. That afternoon, he proceeded to tell me incredible war story after war story. The Rescue of the Lost Battalion. The Breaking of the Gothic Line. And I wrote about it all.

In college, I wrote about the 442nd/100th again for the campus magazine, this time going into even greater detail having interviewed several of the 442nd vets.

Still young and caught up in the heroics of it all, I remember feeling an enormous pride in being Japanese American, thanks to the deeds of these men. And then I looked at my dad, and wondered why he wasn’t one of them.

He never said. I never asked.

To his great credit, he also never once discouraged me from telling the 442nd story, or tried to tell me “the other side of the story.” Maybe he felt like I wouldn’t understand. Probably he just didn’t want to talk about it.

Fast forward to 2003, and our theater group, the Grateful Crane Ensemble, produced a show I wrote called “The Camp Dance: The Music & The Memories.” And for the next several years, we would take this show about the high school dances the Nisei used to have behind barbed wire to places across California and the country. And within this show, there’s a moment where we honor the 100th/442nd and MIS by asking any vets in our audience to stand and receive a rousing applause from our grateful community.

The vets in attendance would stand, and receive their due recognition.

Once again, my father remained silent.

Until now.

Because now, in 2010, on February 27 and 28 at the Japanese American National Museum’s Tateuchi Democracy Forum in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo, we will hear the words of my father performed for all to see in his play called “The Betrayed.”

Presented by the Grateful Crane Ensemble and JANM, the play is a love story set at Tule Lake in 1943 and focuses on Tak, a country boy from California who falls in love with Grace, a city girl from Seattle. The two meet at Tule Lake, but are soon torn apart over the infamous loyalty questions. They end up going their separate ways, and don’t see each other until 40 years later, when they reunite and discover how their decisions in camp back then affected them for the rest of their lives.

Through his play, my father’s message is one of hope—a genuine hope for reconciliation between Tak and Grace, and by extension, for our community. After 65 years, it is much needed—and never too late.

Early indications are telling us this may be true. Interest in this subject matter is so high that our Sunday, 2/28 show at 2 p.m. sold out about a month before the performance. This says to me that people in our community are at least open and ready to hear this story. Twenty years ago, a reading of essentially the same play was done at the East West Players, and only Heart Mountain resister Frank Emi and a few others showed up.

But today, 20 years later, much has changed. So many who lived through camp and WWII are now gone. Those still alive are 20 years older, and in their 80’s and 90s. Perhaps they are curious to know how we are going to handle this subject long thought to be “untouchable” and “taboo” in our community. Perhaps some of their views have softened over the years. All we know for sure is that they are coming, and now seems to be the time to finally “air this out” in public.

Of course, one play over one weekend is not going to change the world, or our community. But we have to start somewhere, and even if only one person walks away with a deeper understanding of what happened and empathy for both sides of the argument then we will have achieved our goal.

Because what I have learned from attending the Tule Lake Pilgrimages with my folks in 2006, 2008 and 2009 is that there is another side of the story, and I believe it’s time for us to hear it.

And perhaps, after seeing the play, we can ask ourselves: Was it fair to “convict” those Nisei and Kibei at Tule Lake in the Nikkei Court of Public Opinion and sentence them to a lifetime stigma as “disloyals,” “troublemakers” and “cowards?” Does defending your rights as an American citizen by protesting an unconstitutional imprisonment make one “disloyal” to America?

These questions and more are addressed in the play. After 65 years of silence and after years of celebrating the heroics of the Nisei veterans, I wanted to give my father this opportunity to say to everyone through his play what he could not say to his own family, and me.

His voice, like it was back in the 1975, needs to be heard again some 35 years later, this time for a community that needs to understand and heal from its past so we can all move forward together.

All I know is after learning about and understanding the Tule Lake story, I no longer look at my dad and wonder why. I am inspired by his courage, determination and enduring spirit he showed at Tule Lake and throughout his life, and will do my best to carry on in his footsteps.

Like father, like son—there are some things we don’t say to each other. But through this article, I want to tell him, simply and sincerely:

“I am so proud and grateful to say that you are my father.”



The Southern California premiere of “The Betrayed” will take place on Saturday, February 27, 2010 at 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. and Sunday, February 28, 2010 at 2 p.m. (sold out) at the Tateuchi Democracy Forum, 111 N. Central Avenue (across from the Japanese American National Museum in Little Tokyo, downtown Los Angeles.) The play is directed by Darrell Kunitomi, with music by Scott Nagatani. The cast includes Kurt Kuniyoshi, Helen Ota, Brian Takahashi & Diana Toshiko. Playwright Hiroshi Kashiwagi

and Nisei author Mary Matsuda Gruenewald will speak on a special panel to be held after the 3 p.m. Saturday and 2 p.m. Sunday performances.

For tickets and information about “The Betrayed,” call the Grateful Crane Ensemble hotline at 323/769-5503.

Densho Archives - the Loyalty Questionnaire

The Densho website is another great resource for those who wish to explore Japanese American history - they've compiled a huge bank of testimonies, including video testimonies of internees before their memories could be extinguished.  Every month, they choose a topic and include testimonies to give site visitors a glimpse of people's first-hand responses to the subject at hand.  January's was called "Beyond the Divide:  Japanese American Responses to the Loyalty Questionnaire."  Perfect for NO-NO BOY.  You can click on the link below to see photos and hear video testimonials on their website - or if you just want to read the accounts, they are copied and pasted below.  It provides a great overview of the Loyalty Questionnaire and how and why it divided the Nikkei then...and now.

http://www.densho.org/archive/default.asp?path=fromthearchive.asp

"The JACL focused more of their attention on loyalty and made that a litmus paper test… If you protested the evacuation itself, you had questionable loyalty. If you protested…actions that prevailed in the camps, you could be construed as disloyal. If you didn't go into the military service readily, you were disloyal." -- Art Hansen

January 2010 - Beyond the Divide: Japanese American Responses to the "Loyalty Questionnaire"

"The government is asking... a father and a son who have different situations, the same question, and on the basis of your answer your family might be broken up." -- Frank Isamu Kikuchi

One of the most divisive legacies of the World War II incarceration remains the issue of loyalty. The loyal/disloyal divide continues to haunt the memory and interpretation of Japanese American history, as many in the community still grapple with what has become such a stigmatized and controversial label. This article examines what scholar Eric Muller calls the "loyalty bureaucracy" -- the registration and segregation program implemented within the camps to measure the "loyalty" of the imprisoned population.1 While Muller and other scholars have done important work in highlighting the absurdity of this premise, less explored are the varying ways in which Japanese Americans reacted to the government's efforts.2 This article looks at the wrenching decisions Japanese Americans were forced to make during this time, understanding that these decisions were not expressions of "loyalty" or "disloyalty," but measured responses to difficult and often extreme circumstances.

The "loyalty questionnaire" emerged as a compromise among government officials who disagreed on how to proceed with the detention process. Some wanted to keep all Japanese Americans imprisoned during the war, while others thought a select few should be allowed to leave the camps to fill labor shortages or serve in the military. By mid-1942, the need for Japanese American labor and military service overrode any arguments for total confinement. The War Department and War Relocation Authority (WRA), the governing body of the incarceration camp system, developed a process called "registration" in which a questionnaire would be administered to all the internees to assess who would and would not be allowed to leave camp. This became known as the "loyalty questionnaire" or the "loyalty oath." Ironically, the registration process contradicted the government's initial justification for mass removal and internment, which was rooted in the racist presumption of Japanese American disloyalty. Now, in the eyes of the WRA, Japanese Americans could "prove" their loyalty (or disloyalty) by answering a series of questions on a form.

The "loyalty questionnaire" immediately sparked confusion and anger among the detainees, who remained uninformed by camp administrators about the purpose of the questionnaire or how it would be used. Tensions surfaced among friends and families.

Controversy centered around the final two questions, numbers 27 and 28. They asked: "Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States?" and "Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America…and forswear any allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor, or any other foreign government, power, or organization?" The last question proved particularly troublesome for the Issei who would be rendered stateless by forswearing the Japanese emperor, as laws of the United States prohibited them from becoming naturalized American citizens. The Nisei similarly encountered difficulties answering the question, which compelled them to relinquish a formal relationship with Japan that never existed.

Question 27 concerned the all-Japanese American regimental combat team, for which the War Department was soliciting volunteers. The creation of the Nisei combat team reversed a government policy that had prevented persons of Japanese ancestry from serving in the military. Following the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Japanese Americans already in service were reclassified 4-C, the status of enemy alien, while local draft boards prohibited further enlistment.

Question 27 angered some Nisei who felt that the U.S. government had no right to ask for volunteers from a population incarcerated behind barbed wire. Others viewed volunteering as a way to help their families or as the only opportunity to leave the confines of camp. The War Department expected 5,000 volunteers, but perhaps unsurprisingly, fewer than 1,200 signed up.

Detainees responded to the questionnaire in various ways and for a wide variety of reasons. Many Japanese Americans answered "yes" to both questions, while others answered "no." Some, like Chizuko Norton, answered yes-no or with qualified answers. Incarcerated with her family in California, Chizuko's mother became terminally ill, which forced her to make the difficult decision between leaving camp to go to college and staying with her parents in Tule Lake.

The results of the questionnaire became institutionalized, as the government used the answers to pursue a policy of segregation. Government officials designated Tule Lake incarceration camp in California a segregation center for Japanese Americans they considered "disloyal," including those who answered negatively on the "loyalty questionnaire," detainees requesting repatriation to Japan, and others deemed "troublemakers" by camp authorities. Beginning in 1943, camp administrators transferred the "disloyals" into Tule Lake and dispersed the "loyal" Tuleans into other camps. Peggy Tanemura's family moved from Minidoka to Tule Lake in 1943 at the request of her mother, who wished to reunite with family members in Japan. As a young child, Peggy remembers the traumatic impact of this decision.

Sarah Sato and her family also qualified their answers on the "loyalty questionnaire" and were sent to Tule Lake as part of the segregation process. In fall of 1944, when the Department of Justice announced that Japanese Americans could renounce their U.S. citizenship, Sarah and her mother both sent in applications. They made the decision to renounce in order to keep the family together: Sarah's father felt compelled to return to Japan to care for his ailing father, who lived alone. As Sarah's story illustrates, renunciation often involved practical concerns about family, not political affiliations or coercion by extremists. After a thirteen-year legal battle spearheaded by Wayne Collins of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), many people like Sarah Sato had their U.S. citizenship restored.

The flawed and poorly administered questionnaire provides one example of how the government attempted to measure the loyalty of the Japanese American population during World War II. Detainees responded to the questionnaire in various ways for reasons that defied the categories of "loyal" and "disloyal" the government sought to impose. The narrative of loyalty remains a potent one in Japanese American history. However, as these oral history interviews illuminate, it does not and cannot capture the complexities of individual experience.