I had researched the genealogy of my family and my wife’s for several years before I really grasped the true meaning of what I was doing. I had started primarily for the same reasons as most people – the birth of a child (or grandchild) and the desire to record family history for future generations.

The house we live in was previously owned by my wife’s Nisei grandmother. One day, I was in the process of searching for some roadmaps in an old desk. As I reached into a far corner of the drawer, I felt some old paper. I had no idea what it could possibly be. I gently worked it out of the drawer until I found myself staring at a Japanese passport which had belonged to my wife’s grandfather, Masaji Matsui. It was completely unlike a modern passport – large, with grandiose calligraphy and artwork.

I was in awe. This was the first pre-war document I had ever seen. As Japanese-Americans living on the West Coast in 1942, my wife’s family had been forced into internment camps during the war. Like so many, they had destroyed all photos, letters, and documents which could have associated them with Imperial Japan. To me this was history! I quickly showed it to my wife and then to her father. Their reaction was similar to my own. Neither had known that this document still existed. In the course of my research, I had previously attempted to interview my in-laws about their experiences before and during the War. I had gotten very little information. I understood why it was difficult to talk about, but at the same time I wanted to know more.

About a week later, I took the passport to the Sierra Pacific Regional Office of the National Archives, in San Bruno. I had visited several times for my research and had already collected a lot of the general genealogical records. Many non-Asian researchers had told me that records specifically relating to the War and camp were very rare and difficult to obtain (I later learned that there is a wealth of information available through the Freedom of Information Act).

I began by showing the passport to an archivist who assisted me in finding the actual ship arrival records. Again I was in awe as I read about Masaji’s entry into the US, as well as the names and location of family members in Japan.
When I thanked the archivist for her help, she referred me to Neil, an archivist who specialized in Asian and Pacific Islander records. Thus I met the person who would help me overcome one of the biggest hurdles in my research, that of the internment camp experience.

Neil asked me if I knew where my wife’s family had been interned. Then, he asked if I had ever seen the Tanforan records. When I asked what they were, he replied by producing a large dusty box filled with microfilm reels. They had been discovered in the mid-1990s, and most looked as if they hadn’t been moved for decades. Neil explained that these records had been amassed by the War Relocation Authority as they interviewed and processed people on their way to the internment camps.

As I began to view the microfilms and their contents, a chill came over me. So much information had been collected that served no real purpose. Family registers detailed all family members no matter how old or young. They included such things as education, occupation – even a person’s physical condition. All this information had been dutifully recorded. It reminded me of my distant relatives in Poland who had gone through similar experiences. These relatives had been destined for concentration and death camps throughout Europe.

I made copies of every record I could find, including a letter written by a sergeant to the Tanforan commander reporting that he had located my wife’s grandfather at his barracks. I brought these to my in-laws to show them what I had found. They were amazed by the volume and detail of the information and began talking about their past. I had brought a tape recorder with me, and with their approval, I began to record their experiences.

I learned that my father-in-law’s grandmother had run a boarding house which helped newly arrived Japanese immigrants find employment and places to live. As he talked about her and recounted stories of his childhood, I saw the reaction on my wife’s face; she had never heard any of this. Later that evening, I also had the rare opportunity of hearing my mother-in-law recount the feelings she’d had as she stood behind a barbed wire fence watching other children play outside the camp. She also spoke of the indelible memory of watching her grandfather being led away by FBI agents, never to be seen again.

With the aid of these documents I have heard and recorded many stories from my relatives – some happy, others not. In their sharing I have learned more about the human spirit and how it can endure. My thanks to all the members of the Matsui, Tani, Kuruma, and Suenaga families. By sharing their experiences with me, they have ensured that their stories will live on.

Before making your first excursion to the office, you need to be aware of a few things. First they do not have your family history stored there. That is for you to discover. Secondly they will not do your research for you. Again this is part of your work. They will be able to provide you with a great deal of assistance as you begin your research. Much of their resources are available during their regular business hours; other records need to be brought out for you. I strongly urge you to call ahead before you go if you want records such as internment, immigration (A-files, or alien case files), picture brides, and so on.

NARA’s resources are an incredible treasure for all of us, but they are also in danger. There is movement in Washington to close the regional offices. This must not happen! California’s history belongs where it is, here for us and our children. Please write your representatives to tell them how important your history is and that it should remain here.

Rodger Rosenberg is a genealogist who specializes in Jewish and Japanese-American research. He is also the current president of the San Francisco Bay Area Jewish Genealogical Society.