Sunday, Dec. 6
1:30 to 3:30 p.m.
Japanese Cultural and Community Center of Northern California
1840 Sutter St., SF’s Japantown.

How will the community be kept informed with the closure of Northern California’s two Japanese American bilingual newspapers? How will this impact community organizations? Arising out of the ashes of the Nichi Bei Times, how is the Nichi Bei Foundation and its nonprofit publication — the Nichi Bei Weekly — functioning? Does the community need a Japanese-language press?

Co-sponsored by the Japanese American National Library, National Japanese American Historical Society, the Japanese Cultural and Community Center of Northern California, the Nichi Bei Foundation and the Nichi Bei Weekly.

For more information: (415) 673-1009 or info@nichibeifoundation.org.

The End of This Nichi Bei Chapter

By KENJI G. TAGUMA
Nichi Bei Times

There I was, an inaka no ko or kid from the country, the son of a tomato farmer from the countryside of West Sacramento. A scant few days after turning 26, I was by far the youngest staff member, taking helm of the English section of what is perhaps the most storied community institution.

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Before making the trek, I called Dr. Clifford Uyeda, a good friend of mine, to ask him about the Nichi Bei Times. “I don’t think anyone can do anything with that paper,” he warned.

But I was determined to prove him wrong. After all, as the son of a tomato farmer, who worked a couple of long summers in perhaps the least glamorous of occupations — waking up at 4 a.m., breathing in residue of fertilizer and pesticides, and working long days in the scorching hot Sacramento Valley sun — I knew anything was easier than the agricultural alternative.

I made the trek from the country to the big city, armed with a healthy dose of idealism and other ulterior motives as well — entering San Francisco State University’s Ethnic Studies Graduate Program and chasing after my girlfriend at the time, a San Francisco resident who I met on a trip to China a year earlier.

It was almost a disaster before it began. On my second day on the job, Sept. 6, 1995, I lost my last remaining grandparent. Besides that, the difficulties of trying to earn respect while so young — much of the staff at the time was in their 60s or 70s or beyond — was a burden as well. Promises made to me weren’t met — more specifically, I didn’t even have a computer. Imagine this model of inefficiency: Kathy Aoki and I would type stories up on our typewriters, and then hand them to a typist who would then retype them into a computer. Yes, this was 1995, and not the 1970s.

Months passed and I still didn’t have a computer. The stress of running a daily newspaper with just one other staff writer was a bit too much to bear. I was almost defeated. After a few months on the job, I was ready to leave, and indicated as much to confidants. Then a good friend of mine told me: “Maybe you should get some rest before you make such a decision.” True, I was tired, exhausted in fact.

I took some rest, and then awoke to find what was my true calling. For my first New Year’s edition, I focused on the changing face of San Francisco’s Japantown, and soon after came the movement to reclaim the historic Japanese YWCA and an old Jewish synagogue which would eventually become Kokoro Assisted Living.

And then, my landmark story: the fight for redress by family members of Japanese American railroad and mine workers, whose family heads were fired by the U.S. government after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. While this group was excluded from the Civil Liberties Act of 1988, we provided them a forum to voice their frustrations, and our lead story in our 1998 New Year’s edition became the most comprehensive piece on the subject. A couple of months after the piece ran, they finally received redress from the U.S. government.

That story won me the Community Service Award from New California Media, but most of all, it reminded me why I was here in the first place: to give a voice to the voiceless, to make sure that our community was not taken advantage of, and to reclaim our history.

And fighting for rights was in my blood. My father was a Nisei draft resister, one of some 300 who said they would gladly fight for the country once their families were released from barbed wire concentration camps. Once shunned for taking an unpopular stand during a popular war, today such resisters are heralded for their civil rights stand.

With pride and principle, and with the support of some great friends and family, this small town country boy was trying to do what I could for this community and this awesome Nichi Bei legacy that I’ve grown to respect so very deeply.

It’s been tough along the way, and the sacrifices were far too many than anyone in their right mind should bear. But somehow I felt that I was made for this, as it covered my interests in human and civil rights, Japanese American history, U.S.-Japan relations and community activism. In the Tenrikyo religion, we are taught to do hinokishin, or “expressing our gratitude to God the Parent by selflessly using our minds and bodies for the sake of others.” I may not go to church regularly, but as I tell my family, this job was my hinokishin.

But it was never just a job; it was more of a mission. Working hundreds of 20-plus-hour days, till the sun came up, undoubtedly will take its toll over time. And my blind commitment to the newspaper led to the dissolution of my relationship of nine years, which I have deeply regretted. But I always thought that half of this job was indeed community service and volunteerism. It had to be, or I’d be really crazy.

Along the way, I’ve had to write obituaries for dear friends who I had such deep respect for, people like author and historian Michi Weglyn, human rights activist Clifford Uyeda and community activist Tsuyako “Sox” Kitashima. In 2006, the death of pioneer Asian American journalist Sam Chu Lin — a dear friend and colleague who was by far the most dedicated and committed to the Asian American community — hit me hard.

But that goes with this job. We are, after all, documentarians, charged with this awesome task of documenting our community’s history for generations to come.

And that’s part of what makes the struggle worth it. Over the past 14 years, we’ve seen the community change in many ways — capturing the hopes for new organizations, the struggles of existing ones, and the potential demise of Japantowns.

We’ve seen the resiliency of this community, and the work that can be accomplished when we band together for a common purpose.

We were the first Asian American newspaper to publish an English-language Green Issue, and we’ve done some award-winning work in engaging and covering the growing multiracial, multiethnic segment of our community. We’ve informed the community about the potential sale of Kokoro Assisted Living, and some will say that our coverage helped to “save” it. We’ve helped to empower Asian American musicians; we’ve helped to promote several community festivals.

We’ve changed with the times, as we say, and perhaps the times have changed in small part due to our work.

Over the years, we’ve developed an army of contributing writers and columnists, who add their varied perspectives to the Japanese American and Asian American diaspora, and we seem to somehow find some overachieving interns who we’ll continue to support throughout their lives.

Thank-yous can be endless, and run the risk of omitting deserved people, but I just wanted to give a few shout-outs to all my staff, interns, and family and friends who have given so much along the way. Special thanks to those who helped to launch the Nichi Bei Times English Weekly in 2006 — we had no idea how successful it would become, but your pride in the product was a source of inspiration.

Thanks, also, to our closing crew. To Kathy Aoki, whose love of and dedication to the Japanese American community truly embodies the Nichi Bei spirit. And to our younger staff of graphic designer Rodger Takeuchi, April Elkjer and my co-editors Heather Horiuchi and Alec Yoshio MacDonald — you have been inspirations that have played a large role in creating such a leading publication with utmost professionalism, a passionate sense of purpose and ever-expanding creativity. The pride that my staff has in their work is beyond what I ever expected, especially in those dark early days when all I had was an electric typewriter.

To our office staff, Japanese section and former printing staff, past and present, it was an honor and privilege to work with you all these years.

And to Rui Takashima, whose 47-year tenure with the Nichi Bei Times seemingly eclipses the combined total of everyone else, you are the heart and soul of Nichi Bei. To Mikio Okada, our president and Japanese edition editor, it has been a pleasure running the company with you these last few years; I hope now you can get some much-needed rest and follow your own dreams.

And to the person who hired me in the first place, the late Tsutomu Umezu, thank you for having the faith in this boy from the country. I was recently reminded of a profile that ran in the Oakland Tribune, San Mateo County Times and other publications in 1998. In it, Mr. Umezu said of me, “He’s young, but he’s the best English editor in the newspaper’s … history. A person like him is hard to find. He has the potential to become a leader in the Japanese community here — or even the whole Asian community.”

I’m both touched and empowered by such words, and as we face a daunting task ahead — launching the first nonprofit newspaper of its kind next week — I can use any source of inspiration I can find.

Through the Nichi Bei Foundation, we hope to carry on the community-serving legacy of the Nichi Bei visionaries: Kyutaro Abiko, who established the most-influential Nichi Bei Shimbun in 1899, and Shichinosuke Asano, the Nichi Bei Times founder who led Bay Area postwar relief efforts to a war-torn Japan. As we close this chapter of the Nichi Bei legacy, we invite you to join us in the rebirth sas we launch the Nichi Bei Weekly.

It’s an almost overwhelming task ahead, but inspired by our Nichi Bei pioneers, and guided by an engaged, sharp and enthusiastic Nichi Bei Foundation board of directors and team, out of the ashes we shall prevail.

Lastly, I’d like to thank you, our devoted readers. Your subscriptions help us carry on our mission of keeping the community connected, informed and empowered. We are moved by your support, as we both rebuild our subscription list from scratch as well as gather donations to carry forward. Without those much-needed funds, the Nichi Bei Foundation and its nonprofit Nichi Bei Weekly may cease to exist.

Hope to see you on the other side of the fence.

Kenji G. Taguma, a Sansei originally from West Sacramento, Calif., is the vice president and editor of the Nichi Bei Times, and the founding president of the Nichi Bei Foundation and editor of its upcoming nonprofit newspaper, the Nichi Bei Weekly. For more information on the Nichi Bei Foundation or to donate, visit www.nichibeifoundation.org.

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A Fond Farewell to the Nichi Bei Times

By KATHY AOKI
Nichi Bei Times

The impending closure of the Nichi Bei Times on Sept. 30 feels like a death that has occurred in my family. Although I knew this day probably would come sooner than later, it’s still hard to accept after spending half my life working for the same company.

My journey working as a community journalist began more than 24 years ago, several months after graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in journalism from San Francisco State University. At that time the Nichi Bei Times published daily issues of both the English and Japanese sections. My three co-workers in the English section were my boss, Michi Onuma, June Kawaguchi and Mas Sano.

Before I began reporting, I learned the routine of producing a daily newspaper, including editing and writing stories, typesetting and laying out the second page of our two-page English section. There was one machine I dreaded because if one word was typed incorrectly, the process had to be started all over again. Shortly thereafter I was allowed to start covering stories in the community.

My father asked me if I was interested in attending law school but at that time I naively answered, “I’d rather become a sportswriter than a lawyer.” When I had the opportunity to cover sporting events, including writing about the Oakland Athletics baseball team, I realized being a sports reporter was not an easy job and not something I necessarily wanted to do all the time.

When I began working at Nichi Bei Times, competition with the Hokubei Mainichi seemed to be more intense compared to now. I remember being told not to even say “hello” to any of their reporters and to stick with the Nichi Bei Times reporters when working on assignments. This seemed strange to me since reporters do help each other out occasionally and many people have friends who work in the same profession.

Like many of my co-workers past and present at Nichi Bei Times, most of us grew up outside of San Francisco’s Japantown community. I knew nobody and had to start from the ground up. Thanks to Michi, who took me under her wing, I began to meet the movers and shakers in the community besides many other people whom I had the pleasure to interview and write about. It took me several years before I had a firm understanding of San Francisco’s Japantown community, a place that would become my second home.

The highlights during my time at Nichi Bei Times include meeting the Emperor and Empress of Japan during their visit to San Francisco in 1994 and attending a special program in Japan geared for Sansei and Yonsei in the U.S. and Canada sponsored by the Japanese Foreign Ministry in 1988.

Stories that stand out include being one of several reporters allowed to interview Michael Yamaguchi when he became the first Asian American to become a U.S. attorney, meeting Japanese movie director Juzo Itami, being inside the operating room of Brookside Hospital to see Dr. Ronald Sato operate on a woman who was burned in a house fire, and learning how to make manju from Benkyodo’s master manju-maker Ricky Okamura.

The toughest period at Nichi Bei Times was when my current boss Kenji Taguma and I were a two-person English section after one staff member decided to leave. As tough and stressful as it was for us to publish a daily newspaper, we did not miss a beat in covering all the important stories in the community and completing our work in the office.

One thing I do miss is the printing press. It was interesting to watch how the workers prepared the presses to print the paper. Many people, including school children, enjoyed visiting our newspaper’s office and seeing the huge printing press. Although it was noisy when the presses were running, I felt there was something special about being part of putting the newspaper together.

Special thanks yous to Iwao Namekawa, who hired me and recommended me to be selected to attend the program in Japan, Michi Onuma, whose grace, kindness and sharp mind will never be forgotten — she seemed like another grandmother to me — and Mikio Okada, the current president at the Nichi Bei Times, whom I have worked the longest with, and who has always given me much encouragement and support in my work.

I also would like to thank past and present Nichi Bei Times employees who played a vital role in helping make our paper what it is today. Thank you to everyone in the English section past and present — Kenji Taguma, Rodger Takeuchi, Heather Horiuchi, Alec MacDonald, Billie Lee and April Elkjer — for being supportive and helping me in my endeavors.

Thank you to all our readers for your support of the Nichi Bei Times. I also would like to thank everyone I have crossed paths with in my job who has helped me acquire much knowledge and grow as an individual.

Kathy Aoki, a Yonsei from the East Bay, is a Nichi Bei Times staff writer.

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What Nichi Bei Meant to Me

By KIMI TAKEMURA

When I came to California in 1979, I was surprised to see many Asian faces wherever I went, and some of them were Japanese! In Eugene, Oregon, where I spent years studying and working, not one Japanese family lived there as far as I knew. I was further surprised to learn that there were two bilingual newspapers in a thriving Japanese community in San Francisco.

Soon I began to work as a reporter at the Nichi Bei Times’ Japanese section sitting at the old desk that formerly belonged to one of the founders of the paper, Shichinosuke Asano. Actually, the venerable Mr. Asano visited the crowded newsroom several times and greeted us with utmost grace and sincerity, “Yoroshiku tanomi masuyo.” Roughly translated as “Carry on. I’m leaving it in your hands.” No one took it lightly. Especially I, almost an outsider, was moved each time to pledge renewed effort to learn as much as I could about the Nikkei community and be a part of its connecting tissue.

Working for the Nichi Bei Times gave me many opportunities to meet people of different generations, from varied backgrounds, and with unique experiences. I learned that most of the second generation Japanese Americans greet each other by asking, “Which camp were you in?” The third generation Japanese Americans tends to identify themselves as Asian American. Their children consider the issue of identity on an individual basis rather than race or nationality. And all of them remember and honor with much tenderness and pride the first generation that built the foundation of today’s vibrant community.

The Issei knew the power of the press and used it to empower the ever-dispersing population. Mutual support was their motto.

The Nichi Bei Times may be no longer, but the heroic attempt to carry on its founders’ work continues through the newly-formed Nichi Bei Foundation. Mr. Asano’s gentle voice, “Yoroshiku tanomi masuyo” will remain loud and clear in our hearts.

Kimi Takemura is the former Nichi Bei Times Berkeley Branch chief.

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Why the Japanese American Press Matters, Then and Now

By TIM YAMAMURA

During the first major wave of Japanese migration to the United States, roughly 1880-1924, the Issei found themselves in an unfamiliar, often times hostile world. They were actually a diverse group of people, stemming from regions throughout the Japanese archipelago, a country that at the time was in the midst of great change. Yet they faced a similar challenge of forging their individual futures in a new land while at the same time maintaining the connections shared.

One of the ways in which the Japanese migrants faced the struggles they encountered was by telling their stories.
As the late historian Yuji Ichioka writes in his foundational book, “Issei,” the origins of the Nikkei press can be traced to the 1880s with the efforts of student-laborers, in particular a group called the Aikoku Domei (The Patriots League). The Aikoku Domei were a small crew who published out of the Bay Area. Living lives that the well-known Issei writer Washizu Bunzou described as “wretched,” they were writers, lithographers and delivery boys; they ran a paper by themselves as they went to school or held down jobs, surviving on biscuits and steaks so stiff they dubbed them “stone-[bis]cuits” (ishiketto) and “stone-steaks” (ishisuteki).

Yet the Aikoku Domei did so because they had much to say. Ichioka notes how the students were critical of the changes taking place back home in Japanese society and of the Meiji oligarchy that spoke of progress and modernization yet limited freedom for the masses. And they used the medium of print to make their voices heard through a host of publications ranging from single sheet mimeographs like Shinonome (Dawn) and weekly papers like Shin Nippon (New Japan) and Dai-Jukyu Seiki (The 19th Century). The fact that the Meiji government banned the importation of nearly every publication the Aikoku Domei ever produced, and even imprisoned one of its writers during a visit home, confirms that however small their staff, or seemingly limited their readership, the progenitors of the Nikkei press did make waves, and were also willing to sacrifice much because they believed in making their voices heard.

Soon, just a decade later during the 1890s, early Japanese America enjoyed a whole host of daily publications. In Northern California alone, the Soko Shimbun (San Francisco News) evolved out of the labors of the Aikoku Domei, and was joined by papers like the short-lived Kinmon Nippou (Golden Gate Daily) and Shin Sekai (New World). Later, the Nichi Bei Shimbun (Japanese American Daily News), the oldest extant Japanese American newspaper in Northern California, joined the scene. These publications, while keeping their pulse on what was happening on the other side of the Pacific, began to focus their coverage and commentaries on the lives and concerns of Japanese here in America, thus keeping their readership, a nascent Japanese American community, informed and connected. What’s striking is that although the Japanese community in America numbered only in the tens of thousands at this time, and were located in disparate regions all across Hawai‘i and the West Coast, Japanese newspapers were popping up everywhere! There were almost too many!

But they existed because the Issei understood the need for institutions and practices that would allow them to tell the stories of their lives. They saw themselves as participants in history and felt the need to write themselves into an era of which they were part and parcel. According to a more recent work of scholarship by Eiichiro Azuma, “Between Two Empires: Race, History, and Transnationalism in Japanese America,” from 1908 to the early 1920s more than a dozen books written by Issei writers chronicling the history of Japanese in America were published. Less than three decades had passed since the first Japanese laborers touched U.S. shores and the Issei were already writing their history! And this trend continued all the way up until the Pacific War with the 1940 publication of the 1,300-page tome, “Zaibei Nihonjinshi” (“The History of Japanese in America”), written and edited by community leaders who possessed the commitment and luckily the cash necessary to leave a major record of early Japanese American life for future generations.

Today, we may look back on the writings of the Issei and find some of their ideas antiquated, their versions of history a tad too romanticized. We should. A lot of them were. But I can’t help but admire their impulse to speak out, to record their history, and to tell their stories — for themselves and for the world — an impulse that made Nikkei publications central institutions in our community’s history. For all the talk of Japanese Americans as “quiet” people, the Issei had voices, a diversity of them, in fact, and used them often. And it was the act of telling their stories which helped them garner the necessary courage to struggle on in an environment that was often times very harsh, decry the injustices they faced, and call out for their place in the world by asserting their existence as part of the world. Simply put, they had a story that they believed was worth telling, and they did. They thought it would make things better.

While working as a staff writer for the Nichi Bei Times before deciding to go to graduate school, I would hear from some community members from time to time that they only read papers like the Nichi Bei for the obituaries — so they could find out who died. And that always made me sad, and as a reporter it frankly made me a little mad. Yes, the Nikkei press exists to offer the important function of memorializing our community members who pass on. And it’s true; sometimes it seems like there are more JAs in Colma than on the streets of J-Town, and that can be hard.

But the Nikkei press exists for a more important reason: to continue telling the story of a people who are very much alive! We, like the Issei, like all communities of people, big and small, are playing our role in history. And for that reason, the charge of writing the story of Japanese America, our community, remains. It remains because we, the descendants of the Issei, and sadly soon enough, the Nisei, live on, and thus the story of what it means to be Nikkei in the world goes on.

So even if the challenges we face today are very different from the ones our great-grandparents and grandparents faced, institutions like our papers remain a vital resource, helping us now in ways very similar to how they aided the Japanese American community back then: they provide us a means to voice what matters to us, they keep us connected, recording our experiences, both big and small, and they anchor us to the history we share as we navigate ahead on the routes of our varied lives. And the Nikkei press will continue to do so as long as we as a community still believe ours is a story worth telling and are willing to support the institutions entrusted with that mission. We are worth saving.

A former Nichi Bei Times staff writer and current Nichi Bei Foundation board member, Yamamura is a playwright, non-fiction writer, and scholar working on his Ph.D. in the UC Santa Cruz Literature Department.

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Published in the Nichi Bei Times Weekly Sept. 3-9, 2009.

THE NICHI BEI CLOSING: How the Paper Incubates Leaders

Over the years, we have had the privilege of having so many young and talented interns and contributing writers here at the Nichi Bei Times. Several of them are represented on this page. From the Nichi Bei, many have moved on: the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Program, a Yokohama Ambassador, graduate school, a few law school students, a medical school student and even a Cherry Blossom Queen. We are proud to have served as a launching pad for such youth, who will continue to serve the Japanese and Japanese American diaspora in various ways. In this second-to-the-last issue, we give them one final voice, and thank them for their contributions.

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Reflections on the Times

By TOMO HIRAI

In the documentary “The Corporation” (2003), directors Mark Achbar and Jennifer Abbott describe the flaws found in modern corporations as human flaws. They label the modern corporation as a cold and unfeeling psychopath. The Nichi Bei Times would be the exact opposite. It would be the old regular who sits at May’s Coffee Shop all day and is recognized by all the locals.

It was here that I started writing about manga and anime professionally. The Nichi Bei gave me the spark to start writing about otaku, which led to my current position as a commentator and writer on Japanese pop culture. All along, the Nichi Bei let me take the reigns and helped me write what I want.

Not just that, I was introduced to Asian American studies here. The Nichi Bei drove my interest and taught me much more than any college class could. Without them I would not have bothered to look into who Vincent Chin was, or bothered to buy a Secret Asian Man T-shirt.

This experience was all about cultural and social enrichment. It was the Nichi Bei that taught me how the best things in life are free; I loved the free books and meals I got while on the job. It was here that I found out anything can happen anytime, such as the time I just missed a crazed man who ran down 15 people in San Francisco.

While I was worked to the bone, I thought most of it was worth it. I sacrificed my school breaks to work on special editions. I suffered three nights in a capsule hotel to cut costs and found myself wandering the streets of Tokyo in a wrinkled suit trying to find story ideas. Despite all of this, I think I profited. I was compensated for my work and when I drop my name on occasion, people at least wonder if they have heard of me.

When the announcement came, Kenji told me that he planned to build the Nichi Bei Foundation. His words gave me hope.

“Out of the ashes, we shall prevail.”

I could only think of Osamu Tezuka’s “Phoenix.” A phoenix chick can only be born after the fiery demise of her mother. The mother whose life was cut short by circumstance is mourned, but we can only watch over the newborn chick.

With the influence of the old Nichi Bei, I hope a new generation both inside and outside the newsprint is born from these ashes. Though the new incarnation will differ, I hope that the nostalgia in the name will not be the only memory the Nichi Bei Foundation evokes. It is my hope that the new incarnation presents the same sense of journalism and culture it has always had.

In any case, thank you readers; I’m always happy to know that people actually read me. Thank you co-workers; both the Japanese section and English section over the span of three years have changed, but everyone was always great to work with. Thank you Kenji and Mr. Okada, both for your leadership skills and willingness to take me on as an intern for so long. Finally, I thank the Nichi Bei; both its history and its current state have influenced me in many ways, and without it, I would not be the writer I am today.

Tomo Hirai, who received his start with the Nichi Bei Times as an intern while in high school, is a junior at UC Davis majoring in communications and Japanese. He has written a vast amount on anime and manga.

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Sharing My Life Experiences

By STEPHANIE KIYOMI SATO

I was deeply saddened to hear the news about the closing of the Nichi Bei Times. The Nichi Bei has been a part of my family’s life for years; my mother recalls her parents’ subscription arriving in their home in Salt Lake City, Utah when she was growing up.

Nichi Bei has been a part of my own life since 1998, when I wrote my first article. Through various articles over the years, I have shared my experiences starting out as a senior at UC Berkeley; later, as a teacher in Japan, the 2002 Northern California Cherry Blossom Queen, a law school student, and more recently, a married attorney. I have grown up and shared the significant times of my life with the community through Nichi Bei.

Of all the articles, my favorite was the column I wrote on my experiences living and working in Japan, “My Japan Journey.” I was a Yonsei who did not speak much Japanese and had never before visited Japan. For a year, I wrote a regular column sharing my experiences with Nichi Bei’s readers. To my surprise and pleasure, readers from different states would send me e-mails with comments and encouragement. In addition, I would receive e-mails from readers with questions about working and living in Japan, and I would write back to them with advice. It was very fulfilling because I felt like I was helping my community across the seas, and my community was also supporting me in turn. It is this give-and-take dynamic that makes community service rewarding to me. I am thankful to the Nichi Bei for providing me with this opportunity and for teaching me the value of community service.

That is what the Nichi Bei means to me. Its readers, the community, become more informed, inspired and entertained. And those who contribute to the Nichi Bei also become more informed, inspired and entertained by writing the articles and sharing with the readers. I am hopeful that this legacy will continue by means of the Nichi Bei Foundation.

Stephanie Kiyomi Sato, a Yonsei attorney born and raised in San Francisco, currently lives in Alameda, Calif. with her husband Brandon Carbullido.

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Growing Up at the Nichi Bei

By TAKENO (CHIYO) SUZUKI

It was difficult to get the “big news” from Vice President and English Edition Editor Kenji G. Taguma about the closure of Nichi Bei Times, as I had hoped the “big news” would be the expansion of the company.

As a young Shin-Nisei, I was basically out of the whole community, feeling like I didn’t belong or could have any similar interests with fellow JAs my age. And to be honest, I can’t remember why my mom wanted to introduce me to and get me involved with NBT. Perhaps because I was such an outsider of the community she loved living and working in, she wanted me to embrace it more, which I did after becoming an NBT intern. Whatever the reason behind it, I am forever grateful for my time at NBT.

I first started as an intern at 16, shy as ever. I hated to even say one word to anyone. The editor had me shadow him around community events and learn different reporting techniques. He even threw a camera at me and got me involved as a “photographer.” After awhile, I helped write articles, and soon I was given the go ahead to write my own articles.

Kenji also knew the importance of learning the JA history as well as the Shin-Issei history, so he made sure I was informed and introduced me to important people from our community. And that made me realize that despite my status as a Shin-Nisei, I had so much in common with the JAs and Japanese-speaking communities.

Today…I am proud to say that I was an NBT writer and proudly share with the people in Miyagi Prefecture the JA and Shin-Issei culture and history. I also have great friends and family in the San Francisco JA community because of my time at NBT. And because of the confidence the NBT had in me, I went on to open my mouth so wide that I was heard all the way from Laguna down to Webster Street as the youngest Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival co-chair. And now as a coordinator for international relations in Miyagi, I work my red pen on government documents, similar to what Kenji once did with my articles.

Even after moving to Japan, the NBT Website was my source to staying connected. The community has certainly lost its “glue to the community.” However, we have to respect the decision made, and only hope that this significant publication will exist again.

Thank you Kenji, Okada-san and the rest of the NBT staff for having the confidence to take in that once-shy, ignorant kid, and for believing in me after I left the comfort of my Japantown home for Miyagi.

Takeno (Chiyo) Suzuki, a former Nichi Bei Times intern spanning four years, previously served as the Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival co-chair. She currently serves as a coordinator for international relations (CIR) in the JET Program. Born in San Francisco, Suzuki currently lives in Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan.

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The Glue That Holds the Community Together

By JEFF ASAI

One of the mantras of Kenji G. Taguma, the editor of the Nichi Bei Times, was that “The Nichi Bei Times is the glue that holds the community together.” This seemed like a bold statement to me at the time, when I had first appeared at the door of the Nichi Bei Times in a short interview for an intern position back in 2002.

But now, I see how the NBT has been the “Facebook” of the Japanese community. It kept friends in touch after the camps dispersed, and disseminated information about bazaars and festivals. And since the new weekly format, the paper has expanded its focus to different aspects of Nikkei culture that are relevant and interesting to today’s readers.

I feel that many of the young Nikkei today are having more and more of a disconnect with their Japanese heritage. After all, five generations is enough to water down cultural roots and traditions. And so I think of the NBT also as the grandmother or grandfather who actually knows why we’re eating all those weird things at New Year’s. Or the knowledgeable Japanophile cousin who is up-to-date with Japanese culture.

And in the end, I see how the Nichi Bei Times brought important issues to light. How it rallied the community together, whether it was to fight for reparations or to save Japantown.

How it celebrated the festivals and taiko performances that large papers threw in their back pages. How it mourned the passing of friends made in the camp days, by having obituaries that reached out not just locally but across Nikkei communities all over America.

And it proved to me that my boss and good friend Kenji was once again right. That the newspaper is the glue that holds the community together.
Best of luck for the new venture; I hope to read many more stories about the Nikkei community in the future!

Jeff Asai, a Yonsei originally from the South Bay, writes from the town of Asuka, Nara Prefecture, Japan, where he is teaching English in the JET (Japan Exchange and Teaching) Program. He was instrumental in the launch of the Nichi Bei Times Weekly edition in January of 2006.

***

What the Nichi Bei Meant to This International Student

By MAHO WATANABE

For a young journalism student like me, the first real assignment means a lot. Leaving the messy but comfortable newsroom, you find yourself alone on the street with a pen and notepad, trembling with a little fear and anticipation for getting good quotes and writing a decent story.

It especially means a lot when you have to interview big names. When I was sent to Yoshi’s in Oakland to cover Japanese singer Kosetsu Minami on his first U.S. concert tour, I was scared of asking awkward questions to the legendary folk figure in Japan.

But the then-52-year-old singer sincerely answered all of my questions with a friendly smile and appreciated us for writing his story. That week, my first-ever story was printed on the front page of the Nichi Bei Times, and I had never been happier when I found copies of the paper in Japantown grocery stores.

While juggling assignments at SF State and Nichi Bei, I took advantage of working as a student reporter on campus and also in Japantown.

A feature story on Olympic judo gold medalist Tadahiro Nomura was made possible by approaching him on campus and persuading him to be portrayed as another young international student who came to the U.S. to study English and to think about his life. Nomura said he was “honored” to be featured both in the campus paper and in Nichi Bei’s New Year edition.

A story on the construction of a Japanese rock garden on campus gave me the chance to study the history of Japanese Americans and the hardships they had to endure. Through interviews with several Japanese American gardeners based in Northern California, I learned their challenges to pass on its legacy to younger generations, who are leaving the prominent ethnic businesses.

Nichi Bei’s assignments also developed my understanding of Japan and its history by giving me new angles. Through a story on Colma’s Japanese Cemetery, I was educated about the pioneers from Japan who made strenuous efforts to establish themselves in the U.S. I was shocked that I left Japan with almost no knowledge of what the Nikkei had been through.

When the 50th anniversary of the signing of the U.S.-Japan Peace Treaty was celebrated in 2001, I was assigned to do a story on a conference that was held concurrently in opposition to the celebration, aiming at a formal apology and redress from the Japanese government for its wartime responsibilities. I remember the conference room was filled with anger and resentment toward the Japanese government, and it was not an easy assignment for me.

The next morning, Nichi Bei readers found two stories in their paper — one on the celebration of the Peace Treaty and the other on the opposing conference. I appreciated Nichi Bei’s editorial judgment to equally print two stories, bringing diversity and fairness to the event.

I thank Nichi Bei for giving this Japanese student a chance to study an important part of Japan’s past and report on issues affecting the present Japanese American community. What I learned at Nichi Bei will never fade and always push me forward.

Lastly, I want to thank Kenji for giving me challenges and making me believe that I could act as a bridge between Japanese and Japanese Americans with my little pen and notepad.

Maho Watanabe, a former Nichi Bei Times intern while attending San Francisco State University, went on to be a translator on the Peace Boat before being selected as a Yokohama Ambassador, promoting that city around the world. She currently works at the Yokohama Convention & Visitors Bureau.

***

Fighting for a Friend

Dear Editor,

I see the response to Nichi Bei’s trouble and I hear one thing in my head: Baka-ero! What is wrong with our people? Are we as squishy, disloyal and worthless as we appear?
So, if your friend is sick, what do you say? “Bummer — bye bye?” No, you fight! With genki, damn it! Nichi Bei Times is my friend; I need it. So, give, out of duty if you can’t muster a higher desire; you are not paying for a funeral, but a new birth. My check to the Foundation is made out; is yours? Or, can you not be counted on as a friend? I hope that you are made of better stuff.

James Kodama Schmerker
Bethel Island, Calif.

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Former NBT Branch Manager Encourages Foundation

Dear Editor,

The closing of the Nichi Bei Times has been received with much dismay and sorrow. Many sent in heartfelt eulogies. Each indicates how… valued and loved the publication has been. Beyond initial emotions, however, is the realization that the end of the old can be the beginning of the new.
The English section of the Nichi Bei Times is to be published as Nichi Bei Weekly by a new nonprofit entity. They deeply felt need for the weekly in the Nikkei community is the reason for it. The impeccable professionals under the helm of able veteran editor, Kenji Taguma, are ready to work, most of them pro bono.
But there is a snag. Staggering costs of printing and postage and rent threaten the existence of the weekly. A vigorous show of support in the form of subscriptions and donations is urgently needed.
Sixty some years ago, people who were released from the concentration camps with only $25 each to rebuild their lives somehow managed to start and support the award-winning bilingual newspaper. Their children and grandchildren today are well assimilated into mainstream, making the Japanese edition obsolete. Can we say the same for the English weekly with the proven record as the vibrant forum for the Nikkei community? It deserves a chance to survive this traumatic time and thrive into yet another life of distinction and service.

Kimi Takemura
Former Nichi Bei Times Berkeley Branch Chief
El Sobrante, Calif.

***

Goodbye to an Old Friend…Hello to a New One

By KATHY SAKAMOTO

An old friend (63 years old) will be closing with its last shout out on Sept. 10…

In Japantown San Jose, we know the work of the Nichi Bei Times. Visitors, community members and residents look to the timely publication of Japanese American events and news, Japanese news from Japan in English and updates on Japanese pop culture, Asian civil rights issues, governmental policy debates and opportunities for business and community. If you really wanted a scan of Obon festivals here, you’d find it in the NB Times.

If you wanted schedules and activities of Cherry Blossom Festivals — you’d find it in the NB Times. There were more community listings there than anywhere else if you were looking for something Japanese or Japanese American related. Even if you couldn’t find it by Googling, the NB Times would know and if you read the paper you’d know. If you wondered about something after reading the paper and called, they’d give you what they knew.

With a legacy that dates from 1946, when Japantown San Jose was still in the process of being re-inhabited by Japanese and Japanese Americans who were forced out during WWII, it’s one more end to a great stream of history. We all know that if you don’t pay attention to lessons in history, that history can repeat, and slap you strongly in places you don’t want to think of.

But when I spoke to Kenji Taguma, he was nothing but determination and energy. The Nichi Bei Foundation will be represented at the Spirit of Japantown Festival on Sept. 26, 2009, so please stop by their booth.

Gain a bit of historical perspective of the “minority” in the American landscape, the small ethnic paper and with guts and glory — maybe even try supporting the new foundation.

They’ve supported people in this area for some 63 years.

Kathy Sakamoto is the executive director of the Japantown Business Association in San Jose’s Japantown.

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Thank You, Nichi Bei Times

By MAS HASHIMOTO

For the past 60 years the Nichi Bei Times kept our Nikkei community of Northern California fully informed and totally united.

Re-starting in 1946, it carefully guided us through the difficult post-WWII period. It boosted our morale when we needed it the most; it championed the causes we hold dear to our hearts; it announced the arrival and passing of our community leaders; and it promoted our community’s many festive events.

And, it was our window to Japan — to her history, culture, people and politics — at a time when we couldn’t witness it for ourselves.

We are deeply saddened with the closing of this phase of its history. Only the Chicago Shimpo, North American Post in Seattle, Rafu Shimpo in Los Angeles, Hokubei Mainichi and Nikkei West in the SF Bay Area and JACL’s Pacific Citizen remain.

We, however, are delighted that Editor Kenji Taguma will head a new nonprofit organization, the Nichi Bei Foundation (NBF), which will publish a community-serving newspaper, seeking to keep the community connected, informed and empowered.

To help, please visit www.nichibeifoundation.org, e-mail Kenji Taguma at kenji@nichibeifoundation.org, or write to Nichi Bei Foundation, P.O. Box 15693, San Francisco, CA 94115.

“Without a free press, there can be no free government.”

Mas Hashimoto writes from Watsonville, Calif.

***

A Matter of Need

By ALEC YOSHIO MacDONALD

Last spring, I visited the small Central Valley town of Dos Palos to write a story about historic Koda Farms for this newspaper. Third-generation rice grower Ross Koda took me on a tour of his fields and processing facilities, patiently answering my questions all the while. Afterward, as I was about to leave, I asked him what would be required for the practice of farming to continue on as a tradition in the Japanese American community. His reply: “Well, you just have to keep honing your business skills and make sure that what you’re doing is needed by people. If you’re just doing something that’s not needed by people, then your business doesn’t need to be around.”

Right now, as the Nichi Bei Times prepares to shut down operations after 63 years, my mind keeps returning to that moment. The blunt logic of Koda’s statement cuts through the sentimentality I feel about this end of an era. As much as I believe this publication does need to be around, my belief will not stem the tide of our community’s collective will.

I should have comprehended as much long before I heard the announcement we would be printing our final issue next week. In a piece that ran in this commentaries section last January, I asked rhetorically if “the Japanese American community has a diminished need for a newspaper dedicated to its own concerns and interests?” I proceeded to wax poetic about why the response should be no, outlining impassioned reasons for the Nichi Bei Times’ value. Then I invited readers to communicate with our organization — give us guidance, criticism, any contact at all to indicate folks felt engaged by our mission. This exhortation generated letters from a grand total of three individuals, one of them a coworker’s mother.

And so we prepare for the end. Nichi Bei Times staff members mull over their prospects in a bleak job market, with some also having to face visa and immigration complications. A few of us have signed on to assist with the emerging Nichi Bei Foundation, which hopes to continue “to publish a community-serving newspaper in the same vein as our predecessors, seeking to keep the community connected, informed and empowered.” I’ve volunteered to help out with this effort, but given the fate of the original, I can’t predict how the new version will be received. All I know is we better take to heart one farmer’s advice and keep honing our business skills.

I wish I could offer a more uplifting take, a gracious eulogy, a profound message — but at a time when livelihoods are being lost and a decades-old legacy is being extinguished, I just don’t have it in me. But I think that’s probably okay. A bunch more words doesn’t seem to be what people really need these days.

Alec Yoshio MacDonald is a staff writer/editor at the Nichi Bei Times.

Published in the Nichi Bei Times Weekly Aug. 27 – Sept. 2, 2009.

Mourning the Times, Hope for the New Paper

By PAUL KANEKO

To the Nichi Bei Times, which I think has become one of the finest newspapers oriented toward the many aspects of being a Japanese American in a unique community, and beyond:

I write with extreme sadness and disappointment regarding your decision to have to discontinue publishing the Nichi Bei Times in its present form. Perhaps it’s not only a reflection of our increasingly shrinking Nikkei community, but the sign of the times that the entire publishing industry is going through now or is about to experience on a worldwide scale.

In a few years, I suspect that newspapers as we know them today will be a thing of the past. (I suspect that as the electronic age takes over in each of our lives, even the postal service will some day be a thing of the past. Won’t that be a sad day?) All communication will be done electronically and our own personal relationships will be adversely affected and we as individuals and as a community will become ignorant strangers, and cultures will be lost forever.

I do hope that some form of the Nichi Bei Times will certainly continue to keep our community together and informed as to what’s happening and where we can connect with each other and maintain important traditions that we all have grown up with and cherish — because that’s who we are — as well as to share it with the rest of the community in general. Whether it’s through a non-profit foundation supported by the community and other organizations, as a subscriber I would be more than happy to support any means of keeping this important vehicle alive if at all possible through an online presence, through a Website or other means.

As a member of the older generation, otherwise referred to as a “dinosaur” by some, keeping up will be quite a challenge and probably result in an increased isolation by all of us.

In the meantime, we at the Japanese Cultural Fair in Santa Cruz will still try to keep going with keeping old traditions alive and available to the population, but even we are having trouble keeping up with the changing times. Many of these same cultures are escaping from Japan… which is very disturbing in itself. We still happen to believe as our Executive Director (who is from Tokyo) likes to put it, “The Cultural Fair has become one of the most comprehensive presentations of traditional Japanese cultural on the West Coast.” We intend to keep it up that way as long as we can and we have been extremely grateful to the Nichi Bei Times’ co-sponsorship and help for the past several years and especially to Kenji Taguma’s part in making that happen.

Thank you very much for the many years of enjoyment and support of the JA community. We will all “die” a little because of its absence after Sept. 10. I hope the “Times” will find an even more effective and long-lasting way of communicating and bringing to us the goings-on in the community as you always have.

Good luck and best wishes.

Paul Kaneko is the president of the Japanese Cultural Fair in Santa Cruz, Calif.

***

JA National Museum Head Mourns Loss of the Nichi Bei Times

Dear Editor,

I was extremely disappointed to receive the news about the closing of the Nichi Bei Times. I am personally an avid reader of the Nichi Bei and feel that our community at large will lose an important voice and perspective.

The only consolation is that the Nichi Bei Foundation will continue the work of the newspaper and will hopefully fill the large void left by the closing of the NBT. Please let me know how we might help move these plans forward.

Also, my deepest regards and appreciation to Kenji Taguma and the staff of the NBT for the terrific services they’ve provided to our communities throughout the 63-year history of the newspaper.

Akemi Kikumura Yano
President and CEO, Japanese American National Museum, Los Angeles

***

Sad Day for the Community

Dear Editor,

Greg Robinson, a very good friend of JAVA (Japanese American Veterans Association), relayed the sad news about NBT. It is very tough at this time for the business community. You have published an excellent newspaper and it will be a great loss for the Japanese American cause, which you have espoused so persuasively.

Terry Shima
Executive Director
Japanese American Veterans Association
McLean, Va.

***

The Death of a Nikkei Paper

Dear Editor,

I have mourned, reflected and come to understand how tenuous and fleeting the Nikkei newspaper’s life is in spite of the sense of invulnerability most us seem to have. How the passing of a newspaper [is] treated is a hallmark of civilization, and for eons, evidence suggests that they were usually treated with some measure of honor and respect.

At that point the reality of a transition for the passage of the Nikkei press and the continuity of life for the survivors has become a stronger effect. Of course, passage of a Nikkei press is finality, a closure, a material end. Sudden closure, a staggering blow, conveys both shock and sorrow; caring bystanders are compelled to reach out to those whose lives have been altered by the change and mourn with the families when an irreplaceable newspaper is lost in the defense of our free press.

I wanted to tell the readers that I will never be sorry for subscribing to the Nichi Bei Times. I’ll never regret one single article which I wrote because [what] we had was very special. Maybe if we didn’t go into the concentration camps, it would have worked out differently. Maybe…

One joy of life comes through the complex web we weave over time, and at the end of our weaving we will be remembered for whom and what our lives have meant to those with whom we have linkage. Nichi Bei Times was that vehicle for the linkage. This is a lament for a lost newspaper which will return only in old files; bringing to life those who were changed into history.

We can see on them quiet reflection, the joy of family life, a smile that manifest[s] belief in a changed world. I enjoyed reading Nichi Bei Times immensely; a fond farewell.

Takasumi Kojima, Berkeley, Calif.

We have, probably, the most talented and enthusiastic staff that we have ever had — in both sections, English and Japanese — who continue to impress me on a daily basis.

I have been blessed with being charged to maintain a historical legacy that I feel is unsurpassed — from the Nichi Bei Shimbun founded in 1899 by legendary newspaperman Kyutaro Abiko, to the postwar Nichi Bei Times, whose main founder Shichinosuke Asano utilized our pages to raise awareness and funds for postwar relief to a war-devastated Japan.

Their legacy, and the work of countless other unknown soldiers along the way who committed themselves to community service, have fueled us each and every day.

Today’s news, a decision made by the board of directors and shareholders — most of whom are descendants of the original founders of the Nichi Bei — is a sad one indeed. Adding to this morose ending is the lack of community input into what could be done to save this storied legacy.

However, out of the ashes, we shall rise again.

To counter this move by the Nichi Bei Times board of directors, a group of community leaders, some Nichi Bei Times staff and contributors have been rapidly forming a new nonprofit entity — the Nichi Bei Foundation — whose main charge is to publish a community-serving newspaper in the same vein as our predecessors, seeking to keep the community connected, informed and empowered.

We will engage the community like never before, and have an energetic board of directors who are committed to a broad vision of community empowerment.
We hope that you, our cherished readers, will join us.

At this time, when community organizations are being hit hard by funding issues, and mainstream newspapers are cutting down on coverage of communities of color, the community may need us now more than ever.

In order for the new Nichi Bei Foundation and its nonprofit publication to work, however, it will take a lot of urgent help. Because of the late notification of the closing of the Nichi Bei Times, we are not able to obtain 501(c)3 status in time to attract large foundations. Thus, the new foundation will initially rely primarily — if not solely — upon private, individual donations.

So, the ball is in your court. If you feel as passionate about saving the Nichi Bei as we do, and for continuing a publication that speaks to community preservation as much as it speaks to community empowerment and historical documentation, then we hope you can contribute.

Brick by brick, we will build this foundation together.

For more information, please visit www.nichibeifoundation.org, e-mail me at kenji@nichibeifoundation.org, or write to Nichi Bei Foundation, P.O. Box 15693, San Francisco, CA 94115.

Look for a community forum in the coming days. As we wind down this chapter, we have invited former Nichi Bei Times staff and intern alumni to share their thoughts about “What Nichi Bei Meant to Me.” We invite you to do the same.

In closing, I would like to thank all of our dedicated staff and interns, past and present, who have made tremendous contributions to the Japanese American and Asian American mosaic, and who continue to serve as inspirations to me each and every day.

And mostly, thank you for being such a dedicated audience. Please join us as we enter the next phase, going boldly where no newspaper has gone before.

Sincerely,
Kenji G. Taguma
Nichi Bei Times Vice President and English Edition Editor
Nichi Bei Foundation President
August 20, 2009