Growing up in downtown Sacramento before the war, Setsuko (Shimono) Moriya recalls the tight-knit community of the old Japantown. In the heart of what was once a thriving downtown scene, Setsuko’s parents operated a busy restaurant serving American food. Her father, Masuichi Shimono, was a determined, resourceful man who migrated to the United States when he was 17. Arriving in America undocumented prompted him to do the incredible, seemingly impossible feat of hopping off the ship and swimming several miles to reach the coast of Washington state to evade the port officials. While Setsuko recalls him being a strict and intimidating father, by contrast her American-born, Nisei mother, Kimio Otani, was patient, warm and uncomplaining, who came from a family of successful farmers from Sonoma County. But their personality differences seemingly complimented the raising of their six children.

After their forced eviction from their home and business, the family was sent to Tule Lake and then later moved to Amache to be closer to Setsuko’s ailing grandfather, who would eventually die in camp. Though her memories are sparse, what Setsuko does recall are the poignant memories of a child: Long and uncomfortable train rides with no seats, terrible food, and the dread of going to the bathroom.

Setsuko, now 88, lives in Southern California near her children and grandchildren.

This interview was made possible by Setsuko’s grandson, Mas Moriya, who also assisted in asking questions. Mas is the founder of Strong Asian Lead.

Could you tell me about your parents? Where were they raised and what do you remember about them?

My dad came from Japan when he was about 17. My mother was born in Sacramento, so she was raised here. And her dad was a manager of a farm. So they had a lot of people working where she lived. They had a lot of friends. He was managing a big farm.

What kind of farm was it? What did they grow?

Well, anything, I suppose. The reason why he got the job was they asked him if he's able to bring that water from the river to his land. I guess in Hawai'i, he learned how to do that and he was able to do that so he got that job, a big job. He hired a lot of Japanese men. So he was doing well.

What were your parents’ names?

My mother was Kimio Otani and my father Masuichi Shimono.

Do you know how they met or were introduced?

Oh, by a friend. One of the men that was working on the farm knew my father and my father already had a restaurant, so he says, "He's a good catch." So she could've chosen the shorter man or the better-looking man, and she chose the better-looking man with the restaurant.

Did your mother mainly speak Japanese or was she bilingual because she was Nisei?

Yeah, bilingual. She would speak Japanese at home to my father but we didn't.

So they met in Sacramento?

Yes.

Where did you grow up exactly in Sacramento?

Right in the center of town in the Japanese area. It would be in that Second, Third and Fourth, it was all Japanese between M and L [streets].

Do you remember it being a pretty big Japanese community when you were growing up?

That was all the Japanese area. In the alley they had things going on that were Japanese, like they had a sumo place and there was a theater in that area, Japanese theater and jofu place, you know, Japanese groceries. And so it was all in that L and M. 

So the community was really strong. How many siblings did you have?

Five. 

Where are you in the lineup of the siblings?

In the middle.

What was a typical day like for you growing up in that area and before the war?

I don't remember much. My mother and father worked all day, almost. We had an old man, a friend of theirs, being our babysitter. And my sister was already in the sixth grade so she was more in charge. And the old man kind of watched all of us if we went anywhere.

My mother and father, they were always just working away. Even though when you have a restaurant, you work early in the morning and in the afternoon, one of the parents would take a couple hours off, then go back to work and the other one would come home for a couple hours. So they were home in the afternoons, but most of the time they're working. That's the trouble. They worked and worked and worked and had very little time for the family. Camp kind of stopped that, you know, and helped [us] get together.

What was the name of the restaurant?

That restaurant was Bay Cafe. 

And what was the kind of food that was served?

American.

Do you know how they decided on the type of food they would serve?

I really don't know. My father was not a cook in Japan or anything but when he came to America, he was in Washington and he was in a big accident and broke his leg and so was in the hospital. In those days you break something I guess you're in the hospital for a long time and I think that's where he kind of learned how to do some of the things that he learned, [like] how to cook.

What was the accident that he was in?

Well, it was a lumber company that he worked in and he happened to fall into those — you know how the lumbers go sliding down that ramp where the water is running? He fell in it and the man that chose my father at the job, they became friends. He saved my father's life. Got him out.

How old was your father when that happened?

Well, he was very young. I believe he could have been 17.

Do you know when he came to California?

Those are the years we don't — he never talked about it. Like my brother went to Japan, [so he] heard stories about my father writing to them when he got here. But my father didn't have any papers to come with, so I don't know. It doesn't seem too common because he was kind of ashamed about not having papers. Him and another man in Sacramento didn't have papers. They were kind of friends because, "We don't have papers."

Do you know how old your mother and father were when they met?

Well, my father was 13 years older than my mother. My mother was 18.

Would you say that you had a pretty good relationship with your siblings?

All of us? Yes. We all got along very nicely. And the man that watched us was like 75, 80 years old [laughs].

Do you remember when Pearl Harbor happened and what that day was like?

No, I really don't. The only thing I knew when that happened [was] there was a curfew time and we thought it was kind of different. The neighbor, one night we were together after the curfew and [they] put down the shade and it was kind of like, fun thing. But that's all I remember, that was a different thing.

All the kids, my brother, my sister and the two neighbor boy and the girl, they came over. You see, this is an area where there's a hotel and ours was a hotel but ours was a smaller hotel that we made into our home. And so, in-between the home, you could go to the next hotel if you wanted to from downstairs. We didn't have to go outside of it.

So you were kind of connected. What was the name of the hotel that you were living in?

Well, by the time we lived in it, it wasn't a hotel. It had about seven rooms.

How old were you at the time of Pearl Harbor?

Well, at that time I would've been eight.

Do you remember what happened at school? Was there anything that changed for you?

No. Only thing I remember about the second grade [was] the teacher. She was a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Coulter, but she always washed in alcohol. We thought it was pretty unusual. Maybe it was because of the Japanese there around. I don't know. But she always washed her hands in alcohol. She was like a very thin, sickly lady but very nice, very nice.

When Executive Order 9066 was signed and your family had to start getting ready to leave, do you remember anything about that time and what changed with your family?

No, I don't remember anything about that. When you think about now, politically, we listen to the news of what's happening in Washington. In those days, my father was not political. He was just here to make money and to survive. So we weren't political people. We didn't know what was happening, or they never talked about it at all.

Did you ever get a sense of how he felt?

He never really talked to us but like I said, his friend lived next door in the hotel. So if ever he wanted to talk about anything political he'd talk to his friend. So he didn't talk too much about [it] to his wife. But his friend was next door, so he talked to him a lot. He visited him a lot.

When did your memories start becoming clearer? What's the earliest thing you remember about the “assembly center” or leaving your home?

The only thing I can remember is a bus that went to that first camp. But other than that, I don't remember a thing. Like the neighbors, his friend? They had a son in Japan that was there for many years so they had a lot of contact with Japan. They had many things from Japan. Everything they did was Japanese, his wife was more Japanese. And the things that they owned were many that were Japanese. Our house, we didn't have a lot of those things, yet. My mother was not into collecting yet so we didn't have a lot of things, or [we had] more American things.

For your mother, the fact that this was happening must have been much more of a shock to her, since she grew up in the United States. Did you ever get a sense of how your mother was feeling?

Well, she had five brothers and they were living in Sacramento but they were living in Petaluma. So she had a lot of support. My father didn't have any. So she never seemed to have worried about anything.

Did you grow up with your grandparents?

No, once she got married, she lived in Sacramento and the rest of the family were all in Petaluma. She had a brother that was not well, so he'd come to stay at our place for about six months. That's the only time I remember that her family was there. But it wasn't like we never saw them, it seemed like they were there all the time.

Did they have a farm? What did they do in Petaluma?

Well, they had the farm in Sacramento, but when the potato got to be about a nickel a sack my grandfather said, "That was enough." So he sold or did whatever he had to and bought land in Petaluma for a chicken farm. They had about maybe five, six or seven, or maybe even more — all the sons built these huge chicken houses. And they were really well built. In fact, after the war in about 1960, my uncle was still there [and] they sold it to the hippies who made it into apartments. 

So they're doing chicken farming and so I imagine for them they, they had to give up their farm when the war broke out or after the order was signed. Is that right?

Well, I think in those areas everybody was friends, so some white family did take over the farm for them, took care of it. It could have been, "You just watch the farm and it's all yours for a while, right?” But they still had their land when they got back.

So they were fortunate, then. And what happened with your family's restaurant when you had to leave?

Well, we had this Chinese young fellow that worked at the butcher and he said, "I will run the restaurant for you." So we were happy with that. But after maybe a year, he decided to sell it. So that meant that we were losing the restaurant. It was brand new, maybe a couple of years old, so everything was really in top shape. I think maybe we got a few thousand dollars for it.

So at the assembly center, where did you go and how long were you there?

I don't know anything about it. I think we were there maybe six months or so. But it was like just built.

Do you remember the kind of housing you had there?

The only thing that I remember is the bathroom. The toilet. It was like it's an outhouse, but a three-seated outhouse. And I guess you probably could lift the lid and you could fall in and drown in it, probably. But that scared me, that's all I can remember. That was awful. But brand new. I can remember brand new wood.

And those were just the open toilets with no partitions between them?

Nope, but three holes.

Would you usually go with your older sister or your mother, or did you just have to get used to it?

I must've went with somebody. It was scary.

So you were in the assembly center and then about six months there. And then what do you remember about leaving from the assembly center up to Tule Lake?

I don't remember a thing. I was probably sleeping all the way through.

Once you were in Tule Lake, what memories do you have from there?

Well, our block, the people that were in it were the people that lived close by, it was like Sacramento again. It's the same people. Like the neighbor, my dad's friend? They were there but the father, his friend, wasn't there. His friend was taken to another camp. You know how they took people that were too political or had something to do with Japan? So he wasn't there all that time that we were in Tule Lake. That probably wasn't too nice of a thing for the other wives. Some of the wives were single. And that wasn't too pleasant for them. 

Do you remember the mess hall or anything about eating?

Food in Tule Lake was not good. Pancakes didn't seem to do well with me and I would have stomach problems, and my dad didn't like that we would have so much pancakes 'cause I couldn't handle pancakes. But the food was not good at all. In fact, it was the holidays that we were there and at the time, food was nothing to me, but Thanksgiving was like okazu. Vegetable type okazu. I remember carrots, lots of carrots and I don't know what else, but it certainly wasn't good. Christmas was not that good, either. It was probably the same old okazu they had for Thanksgiving. But the food was not good.

Do you remember what you would do to pass the time? Did you make friends or play games with anyone?

Well, the neighbor, she and I were friends but she was about three years older than me, but we were always friends.

So everyone kind of still split up a little bit during the day. And were your parents working?

My mother, I believe, she's always worked. She must have been working in the mess hall. But my father, I just never seem to have seen him. He was always busy about what does he have to do next. He was always looking around to see what's happening outside of the camp, or what he has to do next. He worked with wood, he did a lot of carving in Tule Lake. A lot of the men worked with wood. Any leftover wood, logs. But he didn't do that in Amache.

Do you remember what he would make with the wood?

Little statues, ashtrays. He smoked cigars, so a lot of time it was an astray. He liked to do cats or dragons. And he would use us as models. We didn't stand around, he just used us as models.

So he was very talented with carving.

Well, he came from Japan and they used to carve out names of families. That's what he used to do. He was a stone carver.

Sounds like he was highly skilled.

Well, I don't know about that [laughs]. But he came to America because I think all that working with the stones caused his lungs to hurt. But he didn't know he had lung trouble until he was about 70 years old, then they found the cancer and they opened it up and his one lung was gone, it was petrified. So he didn't know all that was with him, he just continued on. It's good not to know.

When they went to camp, he was in the prime of his working years, correct?

See that's the thing — you worked up to there and you're going to lose it all and then you're going to start over. That's the hardest part.

Is there anything else about Tule Lake that you remember that was really vivid for you?

In the wintertime, they had ice skating and like my brother, they had bought ice skates for him. But it's like the sewer. The sewer freezes and they're able to ice skate. I know it didn't smell that good. But you don't think about how how dirty it was, like it is nowadays.

Did you have a barrack to yourself or did you have to share with other people?

The barracks were about four section, and if you have over six kids, six people, you get two rooms. But my mother took only one, even though we had seven. 

Was it pretty cramped for all of you?

Yeah, my mother was young, she was not a fighter yet. So she took everything, you know, took the least amount what's necessary. A lot of people would line up for food or push to get food or something. She was not that type. If she needed something, she'll go and wait in line. Some people are pushy.

But she was just very patient.

Everything was alright, you know, no need to get mean or angry. She was a pretty nice lady.

Did you feel closer to one of your parents, either your mother or your father?

My mother. My father, we hardly ever spoke to him. All he would do is scold us a lot. We were scared of him, which was good, it kept us in line. My father was scary [laughs]. His voice was — we all paid attention if he said “no.”

If he wanted something done, he told us and we did it, that's all. He never had to hit us or anything; his voice was scary enough. And then he spoke only Japanese, so it's not that we didn't understand some Japanese — that's the trouble. If your mother speaks English, you mix the Japanese so you never learn to speak fluently, both languages.

How long were you in Tule Lake?

Tule Lake? Only one year. Maybe less than a year. I don't know.

What was the reason for your family moving camps?

Well before camp, my grandfather already had a stroke. So when they moved to Amache, Colorado, he was not doing well. He was already passing away, so we were able to get there before he passed on.

I see. Do you remember when you left and how you got from Tule Lake to Amache?

Oh well, see, in that case, I remember it was a train. And it's not like all of us are going. I don't know how many families there were, we were like the only ones going that way and so we didn't have any seats. My father and my brother had a seat where they sat. My mother and the girls, we got rooms in the bathroom. It's not a parlor, I remember just sitting — you know how you might sit on the edge of a window sill? That type of chair. That's where we sat. So I don't recall ever sitting in a chair in there. But maybe my mother occasionally got to go back and sit on the chair sometime. I don't know, but I thought that was bad.

What do you remember about starting your life in Amache? What were some of the biggest differences?

Well, the first thing we did was get off the train, they took us to our barrack or our block, and we were fed breakfast with eggs. It was like, wow, eggs. It looks like I haven't seen eggs for a long time. I don't know. I never thought of food until I got to Amache.

And you realize what you've been missing.

Right [laughs]. And that was a bad thing. It lasted forever now. Food is important in my life.

Do you remember any other dishes?

In Amache, I believe we had turkey. And then Christmas, we had a delicious chow mein. It was wonderful. 

So what was it like living there?

Well, see, we lived in 12F, and my cousins lived in 11F. And one family that was our second cousin, they lived in our block, 12F. So it was for us wonderful because we got all these relatives there. We owned the block [laughs].

So that was really nice for you and your parents to be together.

It was nice, yes. My father didn't appreciate all those relatives. It was a headache because they're all enemies of him.

Really? Did he not get along with the family?

No. You know he's from Japan and my uncles are — they're more American born and they can't see his type of personality. Kind of bossy, pushy. Especially one of the uncles didn't really like him at all.

So it's just cultural clash, kind of. I wonder how your mother felt about that?

Well, he always sounds so mean. And so the younger brother really thought, he couldn't stand my father. Even though he had two brothers that were from Japan and came to America, they weren't like my father. They were more gentle. Like my brother said when he went to Japan, my mother's side was gentle and his Shimono side was more rough. 

Where are they from?

They're both Hiroshima. But one lived more in the island, the Shimono side. That's why my father knew how to swim. Well, that's how he came across to California. Swimming.

What is that story?

He didn't have any papers, so I guess he got on the ship. But he worked on the ship, so he might have learned to cook there, too. But when he got here, you know how they quarantine you for many days, many weeks? At that time, he escaped and came to Washington. It was in February and it was so cold to swim that water, from the boat to Washington. So that's how he came in. It docked some place in Washington but several miles away. But because he lived on the island, he was a good swimmer. He could swim for miles.

That must have been really difficult, though.

Yes. And then he would never tell us that story because he was kind of ashamed that he had to come across with no papers. But that's what my brother, when he went to Japan, heard from the Shimono side; that he would write to them and how cold it was.

That's a pretty amazing story of just survival and using every skill you have.

As young as you are to come. It's important that he survives and continue on.

So you stayed the remainder of the time in Amache. When did your family end up leaving?

I believe 1945. That's when the war was over? It wasn't over quite yet. We left around Fourth of July.

So you went back to Sacramento and what did you do?

That same Chinese man? That's who we went to see first. He gave us soda. That was such a big treat. And then he gave us the key and we went to our home, our hotel.

Wow. And all of your things were kept there?

Yes. Nothing was touched but because Charlie, that was his name, didn't stay there either, he got himself another place but paid the rent. But because nobody stayed there for several months, we had bats. The bats finally left. I don't know when, but that was scary.

Did you feel life resume back to normal or did it change in some way after you came home?

You know, before we left, we were like little kids. When you go into camp, you got to grow up. You're aware of other things besides yourself. And you're nobody.

Do you feel like that matured you?

Yes.

And when you got out, you were 11 or 12?

11.

Did you ever come to realize the racial discrimination that was going on against Japanese and Japanese Americans?

The neighborhood we came back to was mostly the same. If they were anything but Japanese, they knew us. Like the barber shop that was downstairs, they knew us. We didn't see any change in it. But across the street used to be a Japanese drugstore that was run by a Filipino man. And he was the only one that didn't serve us ice cream. He wouldn't serve us. I guess he was angry with us.

You mentioned that your parents came from Hiroshima and your mother's family had relatives there during the war?

Well, my mother's sister.

Were they affected by the bombing?

Not them, because they seem to have done all right. And the other family did alright, too. My father's side, so they were doing all right. It's my husband's family that was affected by the bomb. They were in another area. So the sisters, Tosh's, that's my husband's aunties, they were blinded by the atomic bomb.

How old were they?

Well, they might have been 40, 50. There was a lamp post that they grabbed on to, and then all that happened.

Very sad.

We don't know anything about that family because well, that's their family. They didn't say too much about that.

How did you meet your husband?

Well, like I said, this is all Japanese area, right? So everybody knew each other. He was different. Everybody else, we knew each other but my husband, he went to Japan when he was six and came back when he was about 13 or 14.

So he was Kibei.

Yes. He might have been older because he came back when he was about maybe he came back about 14. So he might have been maybe nine. 

When did he come back?

Maybe a couple of years before the war started.

So when did you actually meet him? How old were you?

Well in Sacramento everybody knows this family and that family, and he was Kibei. It's amazing I married him [laughs]. Who looks at a Kibei anyway? [laughs] But it just so happened.

[Mas]: When'd you start going with him?

1956.

And what was he doing as a job?

Well, he was in the service and because he knew radio. He worked inNew Mexico, worked with electrical things, and so he probably knew about the aliens, all that area. He was really interested in aliens. When we came to Lancaster, they also talked about alien things there.

He didn't go overseas in the Korean War, where all the guys in Sacramento went to Korea. He just stayed in New Mexico with all the people that did his type of work. But then after Korean War he went to college as a mathematician at Sacramento State College.

So you had gotten married after that?

Well, he got his degree, so it was okay to get married.

How many children did you have?

Six.

And where was your husband in camp?

Same place. Well, he was in another block in Tule Lake. He stayed the whole time.

Mas mentioned to me that he passed away young, when was that?

Oh yes, he was 51.

What happened?

Meningitis.

[Mas]: Did they misdiagnose him or this hospital didn't do something, right? They didn't give him that medicine?

No, we went to see him then he died.

And did he die suddenly?

Well, you would say, like from November, he wasn't feeling well, and then this January 4th, he died.

So then you basically had to raise all your children, some nearing their adulthood, but you still had young kids. How was that experience for you? Did you have support from the family?

Well, living in Lancaster, no support. My mother stayed for a few months, but that day that my husband died, all my kids were Christians, not baptized yet. My husband was a Christian, I was a Buddhist. But that night, somehow the Christian religion about Jesus became kind of clear to me, and I became a Christian that night. Overnight. And so by Easter, we all were baptized that year. And I've been a Christian ever since. Because I became a Christian, I had all that help from God. It was alright.

You found some strength in that.

Right. I used to think Christians were weaklings. You know, Buddhists think they're the best. And they were, until I realized the Bible is so important.

What do you hope that your grandchildren and your great grandchildren and people in your family, who may not be able to ask you in person, what do you hope that they remember or know of the experience that your family went through during the war? Is there something that you hope that they know and remember about this time?

Well, the hardest thing is, this should never happen again. And that when somebody starts any kind of life, it's a start and you keep growing and you grow and grow and grow. But for us to have gone to camp, we went back how many times? There was that depression in between there, and so we're not where we should be. We went back. So we're behind the Chinese because the Chinese stayed on, and other people. Everyone should be treated equally and the right way, like you two are working to make it a better world, to teach us how things work and how it can be. So what you're doing is good.

[Mas]: When you were headed into camp, you said your dad was almost about to buy a house, right?

Yes, by that time my father was at his top. So the restaurant, the Bay Restaurant, he had three restaurants before that. And this Bay Restaurant was really a nice restaurant. And so it was just about the time we were going to buy a house and a $10,000 house. And he showed it to us after we came out of camp. I thought, my goodness, at that time to have [a house], that was good. But we went to camp. So whatever few money that he had, they had to put it away.

[Mas]: They put it away, but then they used the money to buy the restaurant?

Right. So when all this happened, they had to make money to start again, but they had a little put away some place. So when they got out, 1945, they went to work at a restaurant for a while, both of them, and so with what they saved they looked around for another restaurant and was able to put all that money into that new another restaurant. So he knew how to start it because he had so many restaurants that he knew how business started. So he helped other people start businesses after they got out, those that he knew.

[Mas]: I didn't know that, that's cool.

He had some good friends that he helped. Like one of the uncles he helped. So he loved my brother. That's the uncle that liked him.

And how long did they have that restaurant?

Until 1965. When Sacramento started to rebuild, buying out the houses.

So was your family bought out by developers?

Yes. But by that time, my father was ready to retire.

Were your parents alive long enough to receive their redress?

My mother was, but not my father.

When did your father pass away?

About 1968, something like that. Just soon after closing.

When did your mother pass away?

2003 or 2004.

When you received your redress and the apology, what was your feeling?

Well, I appreciated it, but I didn't want to say too much because I was working and everybody else would think, "Oh, you're so lucky you got that." When you're working, they think you're so lucky. So I didn't think too much about it but I was kind of angry that my husband was not able to get it.

One of the things that made me laugh about camp was one day I was talking to my daughter. You know how some kids go to camp? And then my daughter Edith says to me, "You were lucky, Mom. You went to camp. I never got to go to camp." So we never talked bad about camp, I suppose. She never got to go to camp.

Did you explain to her? Did you talk about it at all?

Well at that time, we told her about the camp. It wasn't the kind of camp she's talking about.

Right. This is not summer camp.

Well, they know about camp but we didn't have such a bad experience about camp, so we don't talk about it. We didn't talk about sad times because it's bad enough for the grownups, they might have thought how bad it could be for the kids. Like right now, with those immigrants, I don't think — if I was ever separated from my parents, I don't know if I could have survived.