The following is an excerpt from Creek With No Name by Ken and Kris Bilderback. All rights reserved.
By the time Pearl Harbor was attacked, many of Gaston’s Japanese-Americans were Sansei, or second-generation American-born citizens, and some of them were among the first to enlist in the American war effort. The eldest son of the Hashimoto family was one of the first in line, Marge recalls, and went off to fight against the Japanese Army in the Far East. Unfortunately, this all-American young man had the constitution of someone raised in the moderate climate of Oregon, not in the jungles of the Far East, and he died in service to his country, succumbing to one of the tropical diseases that proved to be as deadly as the bullets of Japanese army rifles. Gaston’s Peter and Jim Furukawa also were among the first patriots to enlist, and they were lucky enough to survive fighting for the country they loved.
But Gaston was more than just a center of Japanese culture. It also happened to be the center of “the Pacific Coast forest belt” that internment was meant to protect. While each of Gaston’s Japanese-Americans had a distinct personality to those who knew them here, whether it was for being an expert farmer, prolific athlete, troublemaker or just good friend, to most Americans they all just looked the same. They looked like potential terrorists embedded near the cherished Stimson Mill and the forests that fed the war effort.
“The Oregonian editor,” Ellen Eisenberg wrote in the Oregon Historical Quarterly, “argued that it was impossible to separate the loyal from the disloyal and therefore all Japanese-Americans had to be ‘moved in the interest of national security.’” Soon Congress agreed and ordered the “evacuation” of anyone of Japanese descent, including almost a quarter of Gaston’s population. Eisenberg notes the Oregonian’s editorial board explored the treatment of Japanese-Americans and “compared it favorably to the treatment of ‘civilian enemy nationals’ by Nazi Germany.” Continue reading