The people's rights

WW II Japanese/American internment (ugly sham)

The Alien and Sedition Acts were not during the War for American Independence. In 1798, Congress passed the Acts as a reaction to the partisan excesses of Jefferson's Democratic-Republican Party. Basically, all the Act required was that publication of criticism of the government and its officials be true. Of course, things went quite a bit further than that and the whole thing ended up being used to silence the opposition. Jefferson's election in 1800 was due in part to the backlash against the Alien and Sedition Acts. Jefferson benefited even more from the disarray of the Federalist that resulted from Hamilton's behavior.

During the Civil War, Lincoln suspended the Writ of Habeas Corpus, the very backbone of civil rights. Though suspension of the Great Writ was felt illegal and improper by many both in 1862 and today, it was provided for in the Constitution. Some recent studies have suggested that the suspension of Habeas Corpus was not nearly so sweeping as had earlier been thought. Shortly after the Civil War the Supreme Court under Chief Justice Chase (the fellow responsible for administration imposing military justice on citizens for certain acts supposed to be traitorous), established new guidelines and rules covering when private citizens can be judged by military tribunal. Other restrictions of civil liberties during the Late Unpleasantness, such as Federal control of the telegraph wires, were less clearly within the legal rights of the government. It is important to note and remember that after the cessation of hostilities, all of the restrictions were lifted.

The Federal government acted in extra-legal ways occasionally during the remainder of the 19th century. Certain Federal laws were intended to prevent, or greatly restrict, non-Anglo Saxon immigration. There were many laws, most of the passed by States, that were prejudicial to all sorts of minorities (Indians, Mexicans, Asians, etc.) Most abusive to civil rights were the Jim Crow laws that were passed throughout the South to prevent Negros from attaining their full citizenship rights under the Constitution.

However, President Wilson's actions during the Great War were the next significant assault on civil liberties. Wilson seized private industries (coal mines and logging, for instance). The railroads were nationalized for a period, and rather strict censorship was imposed over the dissemination of news. The Government spied on private citizens whose politics were suspect, and the Communist Party was suppressed. Habeas Corpus was not suspended, but the legal system was stacked against anyone who opposed our participation in the War. Most of the restrictions were lifted after the end of the War, but suppression of Communism continued for at least a decade thereafter.

During the Great Depression and Dust Bowl authorities were often brutal to labor organizers who were labeled (sometimes incorrectly) as Communists. During that same period intellectuals were very attracted to the Communist Party. The Spanish Civil War attracted many Americans who wanted to oppose the spread of Fascism. The Communists were seen as both liberals seeking only social justice for the downtrodden, and as the arch-enemies of the Fascists. During WWII, Stalin joined the Allies to defeat the Nazi menace, and so anti-communist efforts were curtailed. The Soviets took advantage of that lull, and stole the Allies blind. During the same period, Japanese-Americans were deprived of their property and housed in "Relocation Camps" without due process.

BBB
MEMORIES OF A BEST FRIEND
By BumbleBeeBoogie
April 13, 1995

The 50th anniversary of President Roosevelt's death (in 1995) brings back painful memories of a terrible time in America when unjustified (and illegal?) actions were taken against Japanese- American citizens in war time hysteria. We need to remember so it never can happen again.

Tazako became my best friend in 1939 when her family, who owned the area's only plant nursery, moved to my town. We both were in the 6th grade. Her father and mother immigrated from Japan in 1936, bringing their three little girls with them to make a new life and to escape the war they knew was coming.

Tazako's father was a shy thin man with gray-streaked black hair. His face was sun-tanned from hours spent out doors transplanting flower seedlings from the green house in the back of the nursery. He spoke little English, but we talked for hours about the flowers and how to grow them. When his English failed, he showed me how to plant seeds, transplant them into larger containers, and prune shrubs and trees to promote their growth.

Tazako's mother, a sweet petite woman, sold plants and cut flowers in a little office tucked away in the corner of the nursery where she taught me how to arrange flowers in the Japanese style. Her English was little better than her husband's. When they were not in school, the three daughters helped her with customer translations.

After school, Tazako and I often walked to the small house the family rented at the rear of the nursery's lot. Although we were from different cultures, we were alike in what eleven year old girls all over the world like to do---play games and talk about boys. I was one of the few caucasians welcomed into their home because they knew I loved their close-knit family and their old-country customs.

Tazako and her two older sisters, who had quickly become fluent English speakers, were impatient with their parent's Japanese old-country ways. It was a time when immigrants believed they had to give up their heritage and assimilate into the American culture. The girls never invited their parents to school functions because they were embarrassed by their poor English. They insisted that English be spoken in their home, which was hard for the parents, and they resisted.

When the birth of their mother's forth child drew near, the three girls, Michiko, Umiko and Tazako, pleaded that the baby, the family's first child to be born in America, be given an American name. When a robust boy was born, he was named Harry.

My close friendship with Tazako was shattered on Sunday, December 7, 1941, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. We all were scared. I never will forget my fifteen year old brother sitting on the front porch of our home, defiantly challenging the unseen enemy, pointing his 22 rifle at the evening sky to protect his family. "Let them come," he snarled, "I'll shoot them out of the sky!"

The three girls did not come to school on Monday after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Our homeroom teacher discussed with the students how embarrassed the girls would be when they returned on Tuesday. She said we should treat them with kindness because they had nothing to do with what happened at Pearl Harbor. It was painful for the girls when they returned to school and most of the students were kind, but a few made their lives miserable. I got into a fist fight with one boy who taunted Tazako, accusing her of being a traitor.

Several weeks went by. Gradually calm returned and the girls settled into their school routines. Our homes now had block warden-approved black-out curtains hanging in their windows. Our town's young men didn't hesitate to enlist in the army and navy. (Later, thousands of young Japanese-American men would enlist in the army's Rainbow Division and be sent to Europe to fight and die for the United States.)

Then, without warning, came President Roosevelt's order to move all ethnic Japanese regardless of whether or not they were American citizens, to "relocation camps" in the mid-west. I was heart-broken when I learned what was to happen to my friends. Frantically, I pestered my mother and father about what could be done. They offered no answers. I thought about the girls insisting their parents abandon their Japanese ways and become real Americans and now the government wanted to send them away. In my twelve-year old mind, I hoped the only president I had ever known would not send the family away if he knew they were good, simple people.

One afternoon I sat down at the dining room table and wrote a letter in despair to President Roosevelt. I described Tazako's family and what good loyal Americans they were and pleaded with FDR to let my friends stay in their home. I walked to the postoffice and mailed my letter to the White House in Washington, D.C. I never received a reply.

Tazako's family was frantic because their nursery could be lost because there was no time to find someone to take over the lease. The family were told they would be allowed to take only what possessions they could carry with them on the train to the camp. What to take? What part of their lives could they leave behind? I cried for my friend as I helped her choose what to take. They packed clothing and family photographs into suitcases and boxes tied with twine. They didn't even know where they were going and no address was known for receiving letters. (Years later, I learned they were afraid to receive letters from friends because of fear they would be censored and the friends might be investigated by the government.) Tazako's family just disappeared one day after the soldiers took them to the train depot to begin their journey to the concentration camps in a mid-western state.

Finally in 1946, after the war was over, the family was released from the camp and they returned to our town. Tazako, Michiko, Umiko and Harry finally were considered American enough to live among us. By that time Tazako and I were in our senior year at High School. The nursery had been gone for a long time, converted into retail stores surrounded by concrete where once beautiful trees and shrubs had grown. The family had no resources to start over again.

I never told Tazako about my letter to the president in 1942---it would have been meaningless. We were older and soon to be graduated from high school, but Tazako's trust was gone. Nothing was the same between us again.

Thanks!
I would just like to thank you both who responded to my post. You have been very helpful. Thank you so much