MATSUO​,​ Hiroshi

I was born in 1896 in Iida City, Nagano Prefecture, and came to America in 1917 — I arrived in Seattle in April and reached New York that September. I’d always wanted to see a foreign country. Somehow I felt that unless I traveled around the world, my life wouldn’t be complete. I did get to visit Europe later, so that dream was partly fulfilled. I was a mountain boy from Shinshū, so it was my first time ever on a ship — and I got terribly seasick. For about a week I couldn’t get up. There were wonderful meals, but just the smell of the food made me sick. Even the smell of the paint on the ship overwhelmed me. I’d go out on deck and breathe in the sea air until the nausea finally eased a bit. Watching the sun over Yokohama as the ship departed, I was filled with deep emotion. When I came to America in 1917, it was the time of the First World War. In April that year, the United States declared war on Germany. Japan was on the Allied side then, so we Japanese held our heads high. But in the Second World War, Japan was on the opposite side — an enemy nation. I learned that the war had begun when my sister in New Jersey telephoned me and said, “Turn on the radio.” I did, and there it was — the news of Pearl Harbor. I couldn’t make sense of it. I just couldn’t understand how Japan could do such a foolish thing — to pick a fight with a country like this! Looking back now, it’s clear that it was better for Japan to lose, but at the time, losing felt inevitable. I wasn’t even angry about it — I thought, of course we’ll lose. Just a few months before the war, Japanese military officers were saying, “Japan will never be defeated, don’t you worry.” But modern war is a war of machines. Japan may have had its Yamato-damashii — its fighting spirit — but America had its own kind of spirit too. You’d see young Americans dancing and laughing, and you’d wonder, could those carefree boys really fight? But once they put on a uniform and carried a rifle, they went off to war without hesitation, risking their lives. That’s the American spirit. Japanese officers underestimated that completely. After the war, many people came to America — the postwar generation — but those of us from before the war, the Issei, we’ve just stayed the same. One by one, the Issei are disappearing. Even the restaurants have all passed into postwar hands now. Our sons in California keep telling us, “Retire and come live with us,” but after more than sixty years in New York, we just can’t leave. Our friends are all here — and abroad, it’s your friends who mean the most. On May 9, 1979, we celebrated our golden wedding anniversary. These days, Americans have changed a lot — they’re so kind. When people ask, “Are you Japanese?” and we say “Yes,” they talk to us in English, and it feels pleasant, comfortable. Before the war, you couldn’t travel so freely or feel at ease. My wife loves miso soup — she has it three times a week. I’m not such a fan myself... The secret to long life is to be grateful for everything. My wife was born in 1902, in Hawaii — she’s Nisei, the daughter of a minister. She came to Seattle aboard the Tanba Maru, an eighteen-day voyage, and crossed the continent by train — four nights and five days. This portrait is part of the DMHJNY's new exhibit Issei: Portraits Of The First-Generation Japanese New Yorkers which is on view here: https://www.historyofjapaneseinny.org/issei/