The Mysterious Occident

Shut up in an Idaho relocation camp for three years, Shigeo Nagaishi, a Nisei, heard many a story of rising anti-Japanese sentiment on the Pacific Coast. He was not frightened; after all, his roots were in Seattle. Before Pearl Harbor, he had owned a house and run a grocery there. Last week, Shigeo Nagaishi, with his wife and three little girls, went back home.

The stories, apparently, were not wrong. Windows of neighboring houses immediately blossomed with signs: "No Japs." Someone broke into Nagaishi's garage, pulled all the wiring out of his automobile. Someone else painted' a skull and cross bones on his steps. He got threatening letters. One, in neat, feminine handwriting, warned: "Get out of town."

But there were other letters, too. One offered him a job as a gardener. Another read: "Do not fear. ... If you request protection you will get it." One day a group of strangers turned up in his yard. Their leader identified himself as a Quaker, a member of the Friends Service Committee. While neighbors peered, the Quakers cut the lawn, painted out the offending signs, swept the porch. Beaming, Shigeo Nagaishi rushed out with Coca-Cola and cookies, told his good neighbors he had decided to stay in Seattle.