Japanese community MIA in multicultural Long Beach, CA

By Aviraj Gokool

(This is part of our ongoing series, Lost Kinjo- a look at the more than 40 Japanese communities that disappeared after World War II. It is supported by funding from the California Public Library Civil Liberties Project and the Takahashi Family Foundation.)  

(This is part of our ongoing series, Lost Kinjo- a look at the more than 40 Japanese communities that disappeared after World War II. It is supported by funding from the California Public Library Civil Liberties Project and the Takahashi Family Foundation.)  

Shiny pickup trucks, old models of Toyota Corollas, and worn-out mini vans are lined just outside Long Beach’s First Apostolic Church. As church service ends, a mix of English and Spanish are loudly spoken. Long Beach residents decide where to go for breakfast. Perhaps heading a couple minutes south to Downtown Long Beach where the hub of American diners, Mediterranean eateries, and cultural cuisines are located.

They could also go a few minutes north where Hispanic supermarkets, coffee shops, and food stands are dispersed throughout the area. Regardless, in this melting pot of a city, cultures, foods, and lifestyles are mixed and mingled. Yet, despite the modern diversity, there’s one lost community that never had this luxury of embracing so many different cultures.

Boasting with nearly fifty local fruit markets and produce stands and several wholesale produce companies during 1941, nearly 440 Issei (Japanese immigrants) resided in several pockets of Long Beach. These businesses, community groups, and cultural organizations defined Long Beach’s Japantown as the Japanese Presbyterian Church (now Long Beach’s First Apostolic Church) served as the community center for over 50 years since 1925. 

Kids attended Japanese school and participated in sports while some helped out on the family farm and tended to crops during their free time. Farming families sold their products in fruits or produce stands throughout Long Beach, where regular customers were fellow neighbors or people from their local community. Additionally, with Long Beach being a popular destination amongst Midwesterners during that time, produce sellers likely found an influx of commercial opportunity from these tourists. 

On the weekends, many Japanese families congregated at the Japanese Presbyterian Church attending worship service. Though, instead of the diverse meals Long Beach currently has, Chop Suey “joints” became a popular niche for many Japanese restaurant operators, making places like the Sakura Chop Suey Parlor a go to eatery for many Japanese American families. 

But with Japan’s onslaught on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Long Beach’s Japanese cultural lifestyle soon vanished. Many Long Beach families were sent to incarceration camps in Manzanar, Jerome, and Tule Lake.

Life was miserable for Japanese inmates. Families were forced into uninsulated military barracks with no privacy. Fresh meat, milk, and hot water were in constant shortage, making meals scant in quantity and poor in quality. Naturally, families became restless and frustrated as panic and despair settled in. Eventually, riots broke out in Manzanar. Though, even amongst the food shortages and inner turmoil, the Issei and Nisei (second-generation Japanese Americans) persevered and prevailed. 

Within the camps, Japanese language schools were held, gardeners and farmers developed ornamental and agricultural land, and sports became a major factor in keeping both the spirits and hopes of Issei and Nissei alive. 

Pat Morita, actor and former Gila River incarceree, remembers, “watching a little old brown guy watering down the infield with this huge hose. He used to have his kids dragging the infield and throwing out all the rocks…They worked like mules.”

Japanese incarcerees developed different fields made for baseball, softball, basketball, and football. They also practiced martial arts like judo and sumo. Collaborating on constructing these sports sites, forming teams, and creating leagues within the camps showcased how strong the Japanese American community were in a time of unease and discomfort.

“I think that whole scenario was amazing, because the communities pitched in,” Frank S. Fuji, former Tule Lake incarceree, said in a Densho Interview. “The outdoor sand is our court, and what you do is you sweep away the sand, ’cause you want a hard floor surface. We all pitched in to sweep and keep it and water it and work out the kinks and wrinkles so the ball would bounce properly. And we had like an actual real floor.”

January 2, 1945 marked the end of America’s incarceration camps as the Issei and Nisei started reintegrating back into American society. Some moved back to Japan, others migrated to the east where jobs and less discrimination were found while those who resettled in the west faced major housing and job shortages with pocket change and little to no property.

Arranged by the Federal Public Housing Authority (FPHA), former incarcerees moved into former military barracks and trailers. In Long Beach, families were concentrated at a Los Cerritos trailer park but spending almost several years in camps caused them to lose their former community center, Long Beach’s Japanese Presbyterian Church, as it was taken over by the Long Beach Boys Club. They temporarily used the trailer court as a congregation point, but as the years passed and Japanese Americans were moved into housing projects, eventually destroying the trailer park and losing yet another community center.

“As we moved out of the trailer parks and into the housing projects, we had no central point…” Kazuko Matsumoto, former incarceree and Long Beach resident, said in an oral history interview. “They felt there was a need for some place to have Japanese school, to meet, to watch Japanese movies.” 

To set up a more permanent congregation area, the Long Beach Cultural Center was founded in March of 1951. But this wasn’t the only place for Japanese in the Long Beach area to congregate nor the only activity to meet people in the community. Numerous clubs were formed, and sports leagues carried over from the camps, creating a special community among the Japanese American youth.

“It was the clubs and sports that really helped keep the Japanese American community together,” Yukio Kawaratani, former Tule Lake incarceree and a retired urban planner, told AsAmNews. “There were also flower arranging and other Japanese dance classes and so forth, but today, there are very few clubs.”

Since high school, Kawaratani led a club of a little over 10 boys called the Royal Knights. The Royal Knights was the epitome of an active boys club. Donning a white-trimmed black varsity jacket, Kawaratani and the Royal Knights were like a group of boys from The Outsiders. They often went to dances to flirt with girls across LA, played sports matches — hardball, softball, and basketball — against other boys clubs in the county, and attended Japanese events across LA and Long Beach. It was a way for them to interact with kids their age while attending community events and forming a tight clique. 

Though, once Kawaratani left for UCLA, then Berkeley, he left the club and passed it onto a young leader. Since then, the club was disbanded as members went their separate ways. but the memories and the strong bonds they formed have kept Kawaratani’s generation of Japanese Americans in a tightly knit community. 

With the growth of the internet, gaming taking over every household, and online communities being a popular alternative among modern youth, clubs like the Royal Knights declined in popularity and rarely exist nowadays. Japanese American sports leagues are still around and have connected the community since incarceration camps, however they too are in a steady decline. 

The Southern California Japanese American Basketball Leagues played a pivotal role in musician and scientist Michael Murata’s youth. Starting with his father and older brother who played in basketball and baseball Japanese American leagues, Murata felt that playing in an Asian league allowed him to meet kids in his local community, create lasting bonds, and have a core set of friends while competing on a more friendly basis. Through the league, Murata created some of his most cherished memories and experiences in his childhood. 

“​​Every year, there’s this tournament in Las Vegas and so we’d all just get rooms at the same hotel and just kind of hang out and get into trouble,” Murata told AsAmNews.

Now a married adult planning to have kids and organizing community events himself, Murata was grateful to have the opportunity to play in a league with kids that had the same stature as him and that their game of basketball —  3-and-D — was specific to the Japanese American leagues. As a present community organizer, Murata has been thinking about the technicalities of the leagues.

“They did a really good job of getting gym time, not just having a league but having the physical spaces to play these games,” Murata told AsAmNews. “Now that I’m at the age of starting to plan and community organize, I’m like ‘dang, the way they set this up was really nice.’”

Murata hopes to bring these sorts of experiences to the next generation of youth, allowing a space for leisure recreational sports while granting a friendly environment for kids to be active and make lasting memories and friendships into their adulthood. 

“Just knowing I played against somebody is just like an instant connection and I’m able to make friends with them 20, 30 years later,” Murata told AsAmNews.

Although, the need for these community-based leagues are steadily declining. Along with the growth of online communities and hobbies outside of sports gaining traction, the bar for joining a Japanese American league was very high, let alone finding it. 

“The only way to get into the league is if you know somebody,” Murata told AsAmNews. “There was no online open sign up or anything… Also JAs were getting more spread out and intermarrying with other races. If we wanted to form a team, you’re gonna have to travel farther.”

With Japanese American youth moving out, going to college, and pursuing their dreams elsewhere, the community has become somewhat dispersed. The enclaves of Japantowns are shrinking or have disappeared completely, but perhaps it’s because Japanese Americans are not forced into specific sections of cities, but rather, because they have the freedom of intermingling and opportunity to move where they please. 

Long Beach, scant in Japanese businesses but now dazzling with multiethnic ones, is a modern example of the sign of the times. Its Japantown, erased because of incarceration camps, has been replaced by Latin, Middle Eastern, and South East Asian establishments. Though not a Japantown, it’s turned into a multiethnic, diverse neighborhood. 

Still, the history and importance of these former Nihonmachi played a significant role in establishing a strong community, support, and aid for people living through a time of despair. The fact that these sports leagues and clubs have been around since the incarceration period shows the power of the Japanese American community that’s lasted for four or five generations. It exemplifies there are people who will come back to remember the lost city, establishments, and lives. Though Long Beach’s Japantown is gone, the memories of former prisoners will never be forgotten and the Nihonmachi will never truly be erased with community centers and organizers keeping the history and memories alive.

AsAmNews is published by the non-profit, Asian American Media Inc.

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