Quiet Americans

He broke the color barrier by speaking English.

June 17, 1929: Actor and singer James Shigeta was born in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi.

In the 1950s, Hollywood rarely knew what to do with Asian actors.

They were often cast as villains, comic relief, servants, or stereotypes with exaggerated accents. Sometimes Asian characters weren’t played by Asians at all.

James Shigeta offered something different.

In The Crimson Kimono (1959), he starred as Detective Joe Kojaku, a Japanese American police officer investigating a murder in Los Angeles while caught in a love triangle with a white woman.

The surprising part wasn’t the crime story.

It was the romance.

At a time when in*******al marriage was still illegal in many U.S. states, audiences watched a Japanese American man portrayed as confident, intelligent, desirable, and fully American.

And he got the girl.

Just as important, Shigeta didn’t rely on a caricature. He spoke fluent English. No exaggerated accent. No yellowface. No comic routine.

Back then, it was groundbreaking.

Long before Hollywood began talking seriously about representation, James Shigeta quietly challenged assumptions about who could be a leading man.

Read more:
quietamericans.com/james-shigeta

Greed was a “military secret.”

June 16, 1942: Workers at the Santa Anita Camouflage Net Factory walked off the job.

More than 1,200 Japanese Americans — most of them young women — spent their days weaving camouflage nets for the U.S. military while incarcerated behind barbed wire.

They earned about 10 cents an hour.

The work was dangerous. There were no gloves, no masks, and no protective gear. Workers suffered blisters, respiratory problems, and other health issues from the fibers and chemicals they handled every day.

On June 16, they had enough.

The workers went on strike.

Rather than address the controversy publicly, the government classified the factory’s contracts, conditions, and even the strike itself as a “military secret.”

The strike eventually succeeded. Workers received modest raises, about $4 a month, and basic safety equipment.

Even behind barbed wire, speaking up made a difference.

Read more:
quietamericans.com/santa-anita-strike

What ultimately won the Battle of Saipan wasn’t a weapon. It was understanding.

June 15, 1944: The Battle of Saipan began.

American forces arrived with overwhelming firepower. Battleships shelled the island. Aircraft bombed defensive positions. Tens of thousands of Marines and soldiers came ashore.

But there was a problem.

Many Japanese soldiers and civilians had retreated into a vast network of caves. Fear, rumors, and misinformation convinced many that surrender was impossible.

Fortunately, Japanese American soldiers of the Military Intelligence Service were attached to Army and Marine units throughout the island.

Wherever American forces encountered Japanese soldiers, civilians, captured documents, or intercepted communications, MIS soldiers were often called upon to help.

They rewrote propaganda leaflets that unintentionally offended Japanese readers. They persuaded civilians to leave caves. They convinced soldiers to surrender. They recovered 50 tons of captured documents that provided intelligence used throughout the remainder of the Pacific War.

Some crawled into caves to negotiate face-to-face with armed soldiers. Others faced enemy fire while trying to free civilians.

T/4 Bob Hōichi Kubo became the only MIS soldier to receive the Distinguished Service Cross during World War II after obtaining critical information about planned mass su***de attacks and persuading Japanese soldiers to surrender.

In the caves of Saipan, civilians emerged from hiding. Soldiers laid down their arms. Valuable intelligence changed hands.

Many Nisei soldiers risked their lives to save others, knowing they could be shot by either side.

Read more:
quietamericans.com/mis-in-saipan

You can dance anywhere. Even behind barbed wire.

Dancing can help you forget your troubles. And the great thing is, you can dance almost anywhere.

For many young Japanese Americans, dances offered a brief escape from camp life.

On June 14, 1944, young Japanese Americans danced one last time at Jerome War Relocation Center before it closed two weeks later.

Then many moved to other camps. Others tried to restart their lives elsewhere.

Hopefully, they all continued to dance.

quietamericans.com/jerome

Behind barbed wire, he found his best friend: a bird named Maggie.

June 13, 1932: Shigeru Yabu, author of “Hello Maggie!,” was born in San Francisco.

Shig was only ten years old when he and his family were forcibly removed from their home and incarcerated at Heart Mountain during World War II.

One day, he and his friends discovered a fallen magpie chick. An older boy told him the bird would probably die.

Instead, Shig brought her home.

He named her Maggie.

Maggie quickly became more than a pet. She learned to mimic words, laughter, and sounds from around the camp. Children and adults alike came to visit her. Years later, Shig described Maggie as a “social worker” who helped lift the spirits of people living behind barbed wire.

For three years, the Yabu family remained at Heart Mountain. As the war drew to a close, families slowly began leaving camp and returning to lives that had been put on hold.

Then, just weeks before the Yabus boarded one of the last trains home, Maggie died.

Shig buried her with her favorite toys and one of his old T-shirts.

Decades later, he preserved her memory in the children’s book, “Hello Maggie!,” illustrated by fellow Topaz incarceree and legendary animator Willie Ito.

In a place remembered for fences, guard towers, and injustice, a small bird brought comfort, laughter, and hope.

America didn’t trust one of the most decorated units in military history.

June 12, 1942: The all-Japanese American 100th Infantry Battalion was activated in Hawaiʻi.

At a time when many Americans questioned the loyalty of anyone with Japanese ancestry, the men who would become the 100th were already serving in the Hawaiʻi National Guard.

While thousands of Japanese Americans on the mainland were being removed from their homes and incarcerated behind barbed wire, the soldiers of the 100th were preparing for combat.

In Italy, they quickly earned a reputation for courage, discipline, and determination. Their casualty rate became so high that they became known as the “Purple Heart Battalion.”

Army leaders who had once doubted Japanese American soldiers were soon asking for more of them.

Together with the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the 100th became part of the most decorated unit of its size and length of service in U.S. military history.

quietamericans.com/100th-infantry-battalion

He lit himself on fire so others could practice their own religion.

June 11, 1963: Thích Quảng Đức, a 66-year-old Buddhist monk, burned himself to death at a busy intersection in Saigon to protest religious persecution by South Vietnam's U.S.-backed government.

The Buddhist crisis had begun just weeks earlier. South Vietnamese President Ngô Đình Diệm, a Catholic, presided over a government that favored the Catholic Church while discriminating against the country’s Buddhist majority. Tensions exploded after authorities banned the Buddhist flag during celebrations of Buddha’s birthday in Huế. When government forces opened fire on unarmed Buddhist protesters, monks and nuns launched a campaign of civil resistance.

On June 10, American journalists received word that “something important” would happen the following morning near the Cambodian embassy in Saigon. Most ignored the tip.

Only a handful showed up.

Among them was Associated Press photographer Malcolm Browne.

As reporters watched, another monk poured five gallons of gasoline over Quảng Đức. Sitting calmly in the traditional lotus position, he struck a match and set himself ablaze.

Witnesses said he never cried out. He never moved.

Browne captured the scene in a series of photographs that were transmitted around the world.

Before his death, Quảng Đức left a message:

“Before closing my eyes and moving towards the vision of the Buddha, I respectfully plead to President Ngô Đình Diệm to take a mind of compassion towards the people of the nation and implement religious equality...”

The image shocked the world.

President John F. Kennedy later remarked, “No news picture in history has generated so much emotion around the world as that one.”

Within months, the Diệm regime’s standing had also been reduced to ashes.