Chapter 25 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
JULIA
Julia stood near the bow of the ferry and let the wind blow her long hair back.
She raised her phone to eye level and took another photo of the Golden Gate Bridge.
She’d already snapped several of them, but the view seemed to change and improve with each one.
The morning sun painted the bridge a bright reddish orange, framed by a cerulean blue sky.
The steamships of Julia’s great-great-grandmother’s generation took two to three weeks to cross the Pacific.
Arriving at Angel Island, each immigrant went through a rigorous process of document review, medical examinations that included blood and stool samples, line inspections for physical or mental defects, and immigration hearings that often resulted in detention, isolation or deportation.
Her great-great-grandmother was twenty-three, just a year younger than Julia, when she went through this interrogation.
Julia’s parents worried when she drove across the Western U.S. She couldn’t imagine how anxious they would be had they put her on a ship to sail to a foreign country, to marry a man she’d never met, and to carve out a life where it was likely they’d never see each other again.
Julia’s phone rang. Her doctor, Barbara Sato, showed on the caller ID.
“Hi Doctor Sato,” Julia answered the phone with her hand protecting it from the wind.
“Hi, Julia. I thought I would check in with you. You sound like you’re in a wind tunnel. Is now a good time to talk?”
“I’m on the ferry from Angel Island to San Francisco. Hang on.” Julia walked to the leeward side of the ship and stood behind a bulkhead. “Is this better?” The growl of the diesel reverberated slightly into the phone.
“Better,” Doctor Sato said. “You’re having quite the adventure, Julia. How was Angel Island? I’ve never been.”
“I’m glad I went, but somewhat disappointed that they don’t keep records on site.
Kind of amazing to imagine what people went through.
As I walked around the grounds, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was treading on some of the same pathways that my great-great-grandmother walked.
I kept wondering what she was like. What she was thinking and feeling. ”
“Did you know that I too am a descendant of a picture bride?” Doctor Sato asked. “It’s hard to even imagine the life they lived.”
“Right! I seem to struggle enough with my love life, but can you imagine coming to the U.S. without ever meeting your husband? I guess from the photos, they had some idea what he looked like. Do you think these girls knew anything about love?”
“It’s really hard to know, isn’t it? I suppose initially, marriages were based on security, honor, and duty. I guess I hope that many of them found love in that as well.”
“I still don’t know her name,” Julia said, “but I feel like I’m getting to know her.
Arriving in the U.S.; marrying a complete stranger; building a life with him in California as farmers; having all that taken away from her; sent to Minidoka for three years; and losing her husband in the process.
The fear and anger…the shame she may have felt. ” Julia wiped a tear from her cheek.
“What about you, Julia? What comes up for you? I can hear the sorrow in your voice.”
A flood of emotions gripped Julia’s heart; her eyes overflowed with tears.
“I had no idea about all this. I feel bad that I didn’t know.
My life has been so easy. Maybe I feel guilty.
I don’t know. I have such compassion for that young girl with all that fear and trauma.
It’s kind of crazy, but even more it makes me want to help people…
people like my great-great grandmother where life wasn’t fair.
It makes me want to be a better doctor.”
The doctor let her grieve and then said, “Just remember, Julia, these are all the emotions rooted in our heritage…both the joys and the hardships. She was a young woman filled with hopes and dreams for her life in America, just like you.”
“I just can’t imagine her inner strength,” Julia said.
“I think your grandmother was very wise to send you on this journey. I hope you’re doing lots of journaling. So where does this quest take you next?”
“The folks at Angel Island told me I should go to the National Archives in San Francisco. They said I might find more information about her there. I can’t wait.”
“I am so grateful you are finding out more about your family. It inspires me to do some of my own family genealogy. That reminds me, I have a few scientific papers I’ll email to you about genetic memories. It’s all very fascinating.”
* * *
Julia slumped on a park bench across the street from the National Archives in San Francisco, amazed at the footprint of the building.
The volume of records kept inside must need massive storage space.
To be so close to finding out more about her heritage and being shut out was devastating.
She searched the picture on the phone of her great-great-grandmother, wanting to apologize to her.
“By appointment only,” the desk clerk had repeated over and over, even as Julia had pleaded her case.
She had said she attended medical school in Seattle and had no idea when she could return.
The clerk wasn’t rude, just quite serious, as were the two armed guards in full tactical gear at the entrance.
Without an appointment, there was no way she was getting inside.
Julia glanced at the young man sharing the park bench, who was adding to her annoyance by loudly crunching some Doritos from a lunch box next to him.
It also made her stomach growl. Now what?
Perhaps she should make an appointment, head home, and fly back down before school started again.
She knew for certain the front desk clerk would not take pity on her today, no matter what she’d experienced the last few days.
An elderly Asian couple, walking arm-in-arm on the sidewalk, paused when they came to Julia and politely excused themselves.
Julia looked up at them, flushed with embarrassment, and quickly tucked her legs in to let them pass.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. The man used a cane with his free hand, and the woman carried a wicker basket.
Both dressed sharply, the old woman in a skirt and blouse, and the man in a vested suit and fedora.
They smiled at Julia and at the young man sitting next to her.
Perhaps they were thinking that the young couple reminded them of themselves seventy years ago.
They stopped at a nearby picnic table. The woman set the basket down, opened it, and meticulously smoothed out a small tablecloth, organizing their lunch items on top of it.
Julia smiled as the man removed a blanket from the basket and arranged it carefully on the seat for his wife and helped her to sit.
The woman patted the bench beside her, and he snuggled close, giving her a peck on the cheek.
He removed his hat, set it on the table, and held her hands.
They prayed together before opening their food containers.
Julia was touched by their grace and affection and wondered about their history. How long have they been sharing lunch dates?
She blinked a tear. “To love and be loved,” like Doctor Sato said. Julia hadn’t realized the strong desire within her heart.
She glanced at her great-great-grandmother’s photo again and set her phone down on the bench. Maybe I should find something to eat?
“A picture bride, huh?” The young man smiled and nodded at her phone. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snoop.”
Julia grabbed her phone. “Uh…yeah. No worries.” She smiled back, noticing his very straight, white teeth and kind smile. He wore nicely pressed gray slacks with a starched white shirt and bow tie.
“You have an appointment at the Archives?” he asked and nodded to the large granite building behind them.
“No,” Julia said sharply. “I didn’t realize I needed one…or how anal the place is.”
“Yeah…we keep the place pretty locked up,” he beamed.
“Oh no…I didn’t mean…” Julia stuttered.
He raised his hand. “You won’t believe the kind of people that just show up, demanding help.”
His laugh was pleasant, and Julia laughed with him.
“Yeah, aren’t people just something?” Julia looked at the picture on her phone again. “I just wish I knew her name,” she said. “I’m here from Seattle and not sure when I can get back.”
The boy looked at his Apple watch. “Look, I’m just an assistant archivist. I’ll probably get in a butt load of trouble, but if you walk in with me through the employees’ entrance, I can give you about thirty minutes. I’ll skip the rest of my lunch.”
“You’d do that for me? I don’t want to get you in trouble…but that is so sweet.”
“You shouldn’t go away empty-handed. No promises, but maybe we can get a good start.”
* * *
Her handsome new friend, Brad, had walked her in through the side door as if she belonged, and no one questioned their time together, probably figuring she had an appointment.
He explained without her great-great-grandmother’s name, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, even knowing the year she arrived.
Brad brought over an associate who spoke and wrote Japanese to decipher the writing on the back of the photo.
“I was hoping this is her name,” Julia said, showing her the Japanese print.
The girl used a large magnifying glass. “It is not her name, but it may bring some clues. The writing is mostly in Kanji. It is the old Han characters, written in Japanese using traditional Chinese.” She looked at Julia to explain.
“Forward the picture to me, and I’ll go work on the lettering on my computer. ”
Julia looked at Brad and sighed. “I know my great-great-grandfather’s name and where he lived. Hiroshi Yamamoto. He owned a farm near the Stockton, Lodi area.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Excellent. Maybe we can work backward; seems like he’d have an A-file.”
Julia raised her eyebrows at him.
“After 1944, the government created Alien Files on all immigrants.”
Julia frowned.
“Yeah, I don’t like the term either, but that is what we use.”
“It’s not that…well, it is that too, I guess, but he died in 1942 at the Internment camp in Montana.”
“Oh shoot. Well, let’s see if we get lucky with his name and arrival date from a ship log.”
“You guys really have those?”
He nodded and said, “Do you know when he immigrated to the U.S.?”
“My grandmother said in 1900.”
* * *
Thirty minutes had turned into three hours, but they had hit gold by working backward.
Even though ship logs were all handwritten and hard to read on microfilm, they got lucky.
He had immigrated in March when the weather conditions were most favorable, and the first ships of the year arrived from Japan.
His name topped the fourth list. Hiroshi Yamamoto arrived at Angel Island on April 7, 1900, via the ship, S/S Manchuria.
He had paid the head tax and was given a clean bill of health.
From there, the computer linked them to a picture bride case file.
Among the file were two letters vouching for Julia’s great-great-grandfather.
One from The First National Bank of Stockton, which stated, among other things, that “he is a very reliable man, honest, and upright.” Another from a merchant stated that “this Japanese man is honest, sober, and straight in his dealings.”
Brad scrolled to the next page, and there she appeared—great-great grandmother, Shibata Rikka.
Julia wanted to cry seeing her picture next to her name.
Picture Bride Case File 12696/13-6.
Age 23. Arrived Angel Island on September 20, 1917, aboard the S/S Chiyo Maru. Destined to her husband, Hiroshi Yamamoto, a farmer in San Joaquin County.
A U.S. Department of Labor form, filled out in pencil, read:
Name: Shibata Rikka
Age: 23
Occupation: Farm laborer
Able to Read: NO Able to Write: NO
Nationality: Japanese
Address of whence alien came: See reverse side
Who Paid passage: husband
Amount of money shown: $50
Julia wiped a tear as Brad continued to read the demographics. He pulled up another document titled Alien Sworn:
Examination by Chairman:
Applicant states her name is Shibata Rikka, her age is twenty-three, that she is a subject of the Emperor of Japan and is applying for admission as a photograph bride.
Q: Have you any documentary evidence of your marriage? YES. Presents copy of family register, which the interpreter states: shows marriage August, the 12th 1917.
Q: Ever married before: NO.
Q: Who is this man? MY HUSBAND.
“Wait, isn’t that date before she arrived? Julia asked.
“Yes, they had to be married beforehand for the picture bride to come. They would hold a ceremony in Japan without the husband.” He shrugged.
Brad pulled up one more file, which made Julia shriek, “That’s their wedding license!”
“Yes, for the ceremony done right on the dock of Angel Island.”
With both of their pictures attached, it read:
I hereby certify that Hiroshi Yamamoto and Shibata Rikka have this day presented to me a duly issued license to marry under the laws of the State of California and that I have united said person in marriage.
Signed: Rev K Uchida, Minister, Buddhist Mission.
“Amazing! Can you imagine?” she grabbed Brad’s arm and shook him.
The translator came up behind them and interrupted their moment. “Sorry it’s taken me so long; I got called in by the boss. Someone’s getting in trouble,” she sang.
Brad’s face turned ashen.
“Just kidding, I covered for you.” she laughed.
She handed Julia a printout and bobbed her head.
“These first letters 花柳界, really stumped me, but I think they’re translated to: Karyūkai meaning ‘The Flower and Willow World,’ This one 嶋原, definitely translates to: Shimabara—a region in Kyoto.
The next is いもうと/妹, imōto,” she tilted her head.
“Like little sister. And the last 吉野 太夫, I believe is, Yoshino tayū. She may have been her ochaya or mother.”
She started to explain but looked up and whispered behind her hand. “You guys better skedaddle; the boss is walking this way.”
Brad grabbed all the papers he had printed with one hand and Julia’s hand with the other and pulled her toward the exit.
When they were safely outside, they both laughed.
Julia turned toward him. “Oh my gosh…how can I ever repay you?”
“Well, I take Venmo, Zelle, Apple Pay, and cash. Of course, I’m kidding. The only thing that’s worse than sneaking someone into the archives is taking gifts.”
“You’ve been so kind. Can I buy you dinner, then?” She touched his arm.
Brad smiled and looked shyly at the floor. “You’re sweet to ask….I uh…well…there’s a reason I live here in San Francisco.”