Shim Kanazawa, Part 4

Photo: Japanese Embassy, Nuuanu Avenue, Honolulu.


I mentioned I heard a story that it was difficult for her to find an internee’s girlfriend because of a name change. “No, it was a different problem.” She smiled as she told the story. “An internee who was being shipped out to a mainland relocation center in a matter of hours called me; he wanted to marry his girl friend before he left. You see, no one was told when they were being shipped out. All ship movements were classified information. When I tried to locate his girl friend, I found three girls with the same name. I finally found the right one in Kalihi.”

“Is it true bought them a wedding cake?” I asked. “Yes.” She nodded. “I dashed out to buy a ring and a cake and somehow I had the time to tie a big orchid on to a kitchen knife.”

The range of Shim Ryusaki’s tasks ranged from makeshift weddings to finding a locksmith to open the family business’ safe for a woman whose husband had been interned, to boarding and inspecting U.S. ships to insure all Japanese POWs were being treated according to the Geneva Conventions. She recalled, “We checked for proper sanitation and recreation, and that medical supplies were sufficient to last until the ship reached the West Coast.”

I asked if there was any sense of animosity between her and the military, and she answered, “I received tremendous support from the top brass. You see, I also assisted them. They needed information about Japanese citizens in Hawaii, particularly biographical information and I made it available to them. I also served the military when an American of Japanese Ancestry soldier wanted to mail money, letters, or gifts to their families in internment camps. And when casualty lists came out, the U.S. Veterans Administration used the consulate to obtain information about the beneficiaries of the deceased soldiers in order to settle the claim…. And on occasion, I accompanied the casualty officer to the internment camp to notify a family of the death of their soldier son.” Then she added, “Most of them were in the 100th Battalion of the 442nd Regiment.

“As far as any sense of animosity, there was none. I was given carte blanche by both the military and the state department. I was treated like a diplomat…. I had preference on all military planes and sometimes I would ‘bump’ majors and colonels…The privileges extended to commercial planes, too. I remember an inter-island flight when I was put on a plane ahead of Mr. Carter, the manager of the Parker Ranch. I saw him in the terminal and he asked me how I was, then when it was time to board, he was told to wait for the next plane so I could get one. You must understand, I grew up in Kamuela, the manager of the ranch was like a feudal lord to me! I went up to him and offered him my seat, but he wouldn’t accept it. He even expressed delight that such a role reversal could happen. He said, ‘It would never happen anywhere else in the world.’

“Still much of what was happening was very bad. One of my jobs was to inspect the conditions the Japanese POWs were held. The Japanese prisoners always wanted to know my last name, but I never told them. I still had family in Shizuoka and I didn’t want to compromise them in any way. I would try to see that they were comfortable and would bring them Japanese food, or extra clothes that I paid for myself…Once there was a Japanese officer imprisoned at Honouliuli who was a golfer, so I took my putter to the camp so he could practice a bit.”

During our conversation, we digressed, talking about the family dogs, her life in Boston and the joys of family. She proudly told me that her husband, Kinji Kanazawa was the first Buddhist to attend Boston College Law School and they still have friends from law school that visit them in Hawaii. While they lived in Boston, Shim attended Chamberlain School of Fashion. She recalls those days fondly. She said, “…most of the students were ten years younger than I, but amazingly I never felt out of place. They were very good to me in spite of the bitter memories of World War II and I was elected student body president for two years. Miss Muriel M. Cox, director of the school, was extraordinarily nice to me and treated me like the daughter she never had. Right out of Chamberlain, I was employed by Filenes’s.” The two of us reminisced about Filenes’s basement sales, downtown Boston, the swan boats, the Commons, and the bitter winters.

“You didn’t meet your husband until after the war, is that right?” I asked.