Dr masako miura

Dr. Miura was an exceptional person during the time of the incarceration. As one of the few women practicing medicine before the war and well into her residency, Dr. Miura was one of just two women who graduated from USC’s medical school in 1941. Though her profession was not enough to keep her immune to the incarceration, she was sent to Manzanar, where 10,000 residents would come under her care, along with only four other physicians. She remembers that plumbing was non-existent, as well as sterilization. Dr. Miura, who was married to head Manzanar doctor, Dr. James Goto, prior to the war, witnessed the infamous Manzanar uprising that involved JACL leader Fred Tayama. 

One poignant memory she carried with her past her camp days was the injury of a Japanese American man who was shot in the elbow by an MP, after he was given permission to step outside the boundary of the fence to collect lumber to make furniture for his mother. 

Can you first tell me your full name?

Masako Kusanagi Miura.

When and where were you born? 

June 29, 1914. In Pasadena. So I'm a little old lady from California.

Tell me a little about your family. What profession were they in?

My dad had a dry goods store. Well, I remember he had baths on one side of rooms, and then he had a poolhall. So that they could play pool while they waited around for their turn in the bathhouse. My mother had a little tiny store in the front, with a wood counter. She would sell socks, handkerchiefs, and collars for the men.

So she ran the dry goods store and then your father ran the bath house with the pool hall?

Yes, that's how they earned their living.

Was it common to have that kind of hybrid business at the time?

Yes, I think so, for the Japanese.

Can you say a little bit more about your parents? Were they Isseis or Niseis?

They were Issei.

Do you know why they came to the United States?

I don't know. My dad was the oldest of ten. I think his mother dies when there were five siblings. And so then five others came in later. He said he was working the shoyu factory or something at that time. Then I guess they came over here. I know he worked as a schoolboy.

In the States?

Yeah in Fullerton. And I think he learned a lot of things about, you know, cooking and taking care of housework. And I didn't know it, but somebody said he used to play the organ inside the church.

And you didn't know that?

No, because he's never played anything. I think he was just too busy.

Well, would you consider your family to have been well-to-do or just squeaking by or…

Well, I think they did well. After he was in dry goods, he dealt with the stock market. So he did pretty well. 

And then with the Great Depression, did he lose it all? 

Well. I had a little piggy bank, and he raided it. And I had a bank account, so he took that too. I guess just to get back on his feet a little bit. Later, he put it all back for me. He paid it all back.

So how old were you when Pearl Harbor was bombed?

Oh, I had just finished my internship and then was starting my residency at that time. So I was about six months into my residency.

Wow. And at this point, that would be 1941. And you were born in 1914, so you were already 27. 

I had graduated. Yeah. 

Back then, there weren't that many women who went to medical school. How was that for you?

Well, in medical school, there were only four girls in the whole school, but the men were very polite at USC. We all studied together. I remember when I asked if I could sit and study with them. They said of course.

So if we can turn the clock or the calendar back to December 7th, 1941, do you remember that day and what you were doing?

Yeah, I was working at the hospital at that time. It was Sunday morning and we were having breakfast when we found out that they bombed Pearl Harbor. So we were wondering what would happen to us because even though we're not from Japan and we're citizens here, we didn't know what would happen. They announced that they wanted all the Japanese to convene in the auditorium for an announcement. They said that you would be dismissed for the duration of the war, and 90 days after. So after that 90 days, you can be reinstated.

A lot of people I talked to said, “Well, I'm an American, so this will probably affect my parents, but not me.” It sounds like you didn't react that way.

No, because we weren't quite sure what would happen. You know, because it was in Pearl Harbor, which is an American territory. And because we worked at the hospital, we weren't sure what the Board of Supervisors would consider either.

A lot of unknowns.

Later, we went to a federal office downtown a little later to ask them what was going on and what we were supposed to do. No one seemed to know anything. They had no knowledge to share. Nobody knew.

Was that before President Roosevelt signed the Executive Order?

Yeah. We were dismissed in February, so it must have been around March. Early March. I know I was out at the federal building inquiring all the time. Bothering them.

You must have been frantic.

Well, my mother was alone. My dad was taken on the first day by the FBI. Apparently, he was at a party, so he was all dressed up and, you know, having a good time. I was at the hospital the next day when my mother called. I went out to Terminal Island because that's where they were holding him, and had to wait in line. I waited and waited, and when I got to the end, around 7 or 8 o'clock, they said that was the end of the interviews. No more interviews. All I could do was wait. I didn't know anything about his finances. I thought, well, maybe I'll go to the bank and talk to the president. So I went to the bank and talked to Frank, who's the president of the bank that time. He said don't worry, your mother will get $50 a month, you know, to do whatever she needs for whatever to keep up the family. And so I said, well, okay. And my dad had a few properties.

As an Issei, could he own land?

Well, no. So he had it all in my name. I knew nothing about real estate, so I was just thrown into it. 

I know that this must have been around the time you were married. Was there a particular reason why you decided to get married?

Well, we didn't know what was going to happen, so we thought we might as well. Just after, he and I started at Manzanar. He had just finished his residency in surgery, and was chosen to head the group at Manzanar.

So you both practiced as doctors at Manzanar.

Right. So there were five of us in assigned to Manzanar. Him, me, an EMT, a general practitioner, and a communicable disease doctor.

And how many patients did you have between the five of you?

We had 10,000 people.

That's unbelievable.

Yeah and they wanted us to make house calls with 10,000 people and five doctors. Back then it was standard for a doctor to make house calls, but there was just no way. So we had to tell them to come to the hospital and be checked. If you're all right, you can go back. Otherwise, if you're sick enough, we'll put you in a hospital. And then not only that, but when we saw a patient, we had to take a whole history on them. No typewriters. All the physicals, everything had to be handwritten.

Is that even possible?

Well, when you get to 10,000 people, there's no way you can sit there all night long and be writing, you know? I put in a notice in the paper: any high school girls with typewriting and shorthand knowledge, please report to the hospital. And so when they came in there were quite a few of them that came in and we trained those girls. Every night I would be correcting what they wrote. Medical terms and that.

Right. Because they didn't know the terms. So, would you say you were a manager?

Well, no, I wasn't a manager. I was doing all kinds of things: helping with anesthesia, seeing patients, and sometimes delivering. Everybody had to pitch in. We each spent one night out of 5 covering the whole 24 hours, and you didn't know what would come in.

Since you had to start a hospital from scratch, were you some of the first group in Manzanar? 

Right, I was in the first group. We came in with the medical convoy, along with the men who worked on the buildings.

What were the conditions like when you first arrived?

Well I remember canned peaches for dessert, and they had two garbage pails filled with water for dirty dishes.

Are you saying they didn't have plumbing?

Well, we had nothing. When we first arrived as medical, we had a table, a wash basin, and a hot plate. We had to buy our own syringes.

Wow. So how did you deal with injuries––did you have sterilizer?

No sterilizer, anything like that. We had to boil everything. We had one casualty during that time before we had any equipment. He was shot in the elbow by an MP. He asked if he could go outside the perimeter to pick up a few pieces of lumber for furniture, a table, a chair for his mother, that kind of thing. They said okay, but when he was picking it up, he was shot in the elbow.

Wow. Tell me, what was the hardest thing as a physician?

Well, I think the anxiety. People didn't know what was happening or what they would do. Nobody knew how long we were going to be in there. At some point people came after Fred Tayama, who had been the head of the LA JACL. He was in our camp. They thought he was responsible. He was in the hospital, and this big crowd came in looking for him. We had to keep them out. 

Got to you a lot more because they didn't know what was going to happen to them and where they were going to go or what was going to happen. But you know what they were going to do? They had no idea. And none of us knew, actually, because, you know, we didn't know how long we're going to be there. They couldn't find him. Later, I said, Fred, where did you hide? He said, well, I was stretched under the orthopedic bed, stretched under it without my feet touching the ground. So when they look, you know, no feet. So they just went on, so they couldn't find Fred. Finally they went after my husband, James Goto. They thought he was the one hiding him.

What did you do?  

I said, All right, let's put on our peacoats and let's join the crowd. So we go looking for us. We were in a crowd looking for us.

Scary times.

Yeah. I don't think very many people had to go through something like this. We were sent to Topaz right after the riot. For our own safety.

How was it to go from Manzanar to Topaz?

Well, see, at that time I was pregnant. I was ready to deliver. And when we got to Topaz, I was in my eighth month, my legs were all swollen and I thought, oh, gee whiz, I wonder if I'm going to be, you know, toxemia pregnancy and all that. So, I was kind of worried and went to all the doctors there, who went on a strike. They wouldn't see us. So the medical doctor there, the head doctor, he says, “Well, I'm a pediatrician, not an obstetrician, so I can't deliver you.” In Manzanar when we had any difficulty with cases, we would send them to an outside doctor. And I said, I'm the patient, and I think I deserve that much. So we went to Salt Lake City.

And did you go back to Topaz?

Sure. Then when all the other doctors were gone, toward the end of the way, they brought in German doctors who had been refugees. So I thought, these Isseis will have a hard time understanding German English, so we better stick around to help. 

Okay, that brings us to the end of the war. Were you rehired at the hospital?

Well, I put in my statement to be reinstated, and they said, this is not the propitious time. So then I said, when is a propitious time? I said, if I don't hear from you, you'll be hearing from my lawyers. I knew that I could depend on my friends. I knew the Quakers and the ACLU would back me up. So I took my chances, but it worked.

Was there any argument?

Well first they tried to tell me that I couldn't have it––then they said, well we'll reinstate you in six months. I said, I'll take it. No question. Because time meant nothing then. I did this to become a physician. I thought, if I don't get into the county, the nurses, orderlies, lab technicians, the X-ray technicians, they wouldn't be able to get in either.

Right. You mean other Japanese-Americans?

Yes, I thought if I could just spearhead that it would be a good thing.

And were you the first Japanese American medical personnel to return to L.A. County hospital?

I think one of them, yes.

And what about your dad?

Well, right after he was taken I went out to everyone who knew him, asking if they would sign affidavits. So I got some from salesmen and wholesale people. I sent those to Washington, and he was one of the first to get out. 

One last question: what do you think of the redress movement?

Well, I don't know. To me, just $20,000, it doesn't mean that much to me, I guess. Because if you spend it, it's gone.

Interview conducted by Grace Megumi Fleming. JAMsj thanks Grace for allowing the museum to archive and share these oral histories