He came at the lowest point in my life when I had just awakened from my stupor and realized I had made a terrible mistake. As a renunciant, I was now regarded as a “Native American Alien.” What a preposterous predicament. I was a victim of the government’s manipulation, of the hysteria within the camp, of the confusion in our family and of my own stupid inertia. What was to become of me now? The Justice Department had announced that all renunciants would be deported to Japan on or after November 15, 1945. What to do?

I first met Mr. Wayne Collins in late July 1945 when he was at Tule Lake to close down the stockade. I had not seen many Caucasians at close range in over three years, and I could not believe that this very Caucasian man, a refined, intense civil rights attorney from San Francisco, smoking incessantly, was actually on our side, outraged at our miserable situation. I joined others in seeking his counsel and he prepared for us a sample letter to the Attorney General requesting cancellation of the renunciation.

I was active in organizing the “Tule Lake Defense Committee” to work with Mr. Collins who agreed to be our attorney; no other
attorney would take our case. The only group that assisted him
was the Northern California branch of the ACLU and its director
Ernest Besig who defied the national office of the ACLU and supported Mr. Collins.

I didn’t realize how close we were to being deported to Japan until I learned about it later; only a few days before the Justice Department’s order for repatriation was to take effect, Mr. Collins filed in the U.S. District Court in San Francisco mass proceedings in habeas corpus to stop the repatriation. A last-minute stay issued by the court stopped the deportation of the renunciants, many who were already on board the ship to Japan and were literally pulled off by the attorney.

Mr. Collins also filed a mass suit to void the renunciation and to restore to each of us our U.S. citizenship.

We requested a hearing to present our case – the circumstances and the cause of our renunciation and our desire to remain in the United States. The hearings were held in January 1946 and, as a result, all those who had requested a hearing were released in early March 1946, my brother, sister, and I among them. 

Good news came on April 29, 1948 when District Judge Louis G. Goodman issued a judgment cancelling all renunciations. A year later, his final judgment declared that the renunciations had been unconstitutional and void, and he restored citizenship to over 5,000 of us who had renounced.

However, the government appealed and on March 1, 1950 the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, based on the testimonies of some JACL (Japanese American Citizens League) members, threw out Judge Goodman‘s mass judgment. One good thing that came out of this decision was that my brother and sister had their citizenship restored as both had been under twenty-one at the time of renunciation were judged legally incapable of renouncing their citizenship.

A petition to the US Supreme Court for a rehearing made by Mr. Collins was rejected. There followed months of tedious and time-consuming tasks, of entering individual suits for each of the 5,000 clients. Before the case was completely closed in 1968, Mr. Collins and his staff had prepared and filed over 10,000 affidavits.

A set of questions prepared by Mr. Collins, was mailed by the secretary, Miss Chiyo Wada to each of the clients and the responses, often handwritten, returned over to the attorney. Many Kibei responded in Japanese and Mrs. Wada translated them for Mr. Collins. A corpse of young Nisei women worked in turn often till late at night typing the affidavits. It took over six months to complete and file the affidavits for the 5,000 clients.  

Years passed while our status remained in limbo. I graduated from UCLA with a BA degree in Oriental Languages, couldn’t find a suitable job, came up to Berkeley, enrolled as a graduate student, studied art history, participated in campus theater, and did part time work to sustain myself. In 1957 I was hired by the Buddhist Churches of America headquarters as English language secretary and editor. This was my first full-time job that made possible my marriage in August of the same year.  

It was on May 20, 1959, amid fanfare and publicity that the Attorney General William P. Rogers finally restored our citizenship and 4,978 Nisei were again United States citizens. The Attorney General also publicly admitted the mistake made by our government. Though the Attorney General and the Justice Department were lauded for their “magnanimous” act, the true hero and champion of democracy was Mr. Wayne M. Collins. On March 6, 1968, twenty-three years after he had stopped our deportation, he announced the end of the renunciation proceedings. 

Below is the affidavit that Mr. Collins wrote and filed for me.  

“I did not want to apply for repatriation to Japan. I delayed doing it as long as possible. My mother, Kofusa Kashiwagi, brother Ryo, sister Eiko and I didn’t want to go to Japan and had no intention of going there and leaving my father, Fukumatsu Kashiwagi, who was suffering from pulmonary tuberculosis and was a patient confined to the Weimar Sanatorium in Weimar, California, where he later died in 1951.  

“I was employed at Tule Lake as secretary to the Block Manager in Block 40. The first Block Manager was Mr. Sumitomo who later went to Japan, and next was Mr. Handa. 

W.R.A camps to be segregate my mother, brother, sister, and I were afraid we would be sent away from California where my father was in sanatorium and we would finally have to face relocation in a distance State where we would not be able to make a living and would encounter a racial discrimination like we had been hearing happened to so many Japanese Americans and their alien parents. Many of the people who were brought in from other camps talked and told us that all the aliens in Tule Lake would be separated from their children and be deported to Japan and that citizen children better request repatriation to prevent separation from their parents and to avoid getting in trouble when the families got to Japan. They emphasize that if the citizen children didn’t sign up for repatriation they would have to face staying alone in camp until they were relocated in distant States where their security would be threatened. These things kept us worried. As secretary to the Block Manager in Block 40 many people came to me asking for help in filling out the repatriation forms because they feared separation from their families and relocation. Learning their reasons only confirmed the like fears my mother, brother, and I had. My mother became so alarmed she repeatedly insisted that we apply for a repatriation. I delayed. There was much more agitation in the Block of repatriation and it broke out open into open hostilities in our Block. Groups of people questioned everyone about how they stood on the subject. One day when an Issei spokesman for a group of the segregatees came into the office and asked for a list of those who requested repatriation and I refused to give it to him I realize that I had to send an application for my own safety as people who refuse to apply were being called ‘White Japs’ and ‘Inu’ and a number had been beaten up by unidentified gangsters.  

“I resented the questioning of my loyalty. Earlier I had applied for a student relocation to the WRA officer in the branch relocation office in the camp. He said it was futile for me to apply for student relocation because I didn’t have enough money to be able to pay my living and tuition expenses. This was a big disappointment for me. I was 20 years old then, my father was in the sanatorium and the future looked very dark for me and my family. I registered for the draft in Tule Lake in 1942 and was given 4C enemy alien classification because I was of the Japanese race. This hurt me. When the Questionnaire was to be answered we were worried. My mother pleaded with us not to answer because she was afraid if we answered Yes to questions 27 and 28 that there was a likelihood that we children would be relocated and that I might be drafted into the army and that she would be kept in camp and ultimately be sent to Japan and be separated from us and my father. When I was called for my interview I said I objected to the questionnaire because it was unfair to ask it only of American-Japanese and not of American-Germans and American-Italians. But because there had been the threat by notice and rumors that anyone who did not answer the questionnaire would be sent to jail we were worried and didn’t know what was the right thing to do. Under these worries I gave No answers to questions 27 and 28. I told the official that I did not want to answer the questionnaire while I was held in camp and treated like a dangerous alien but he said I had to answer those questions one way or another and so I gave No answers as a protest because the Government was treating me like a disloyal alien.  

“Mr. Yoshida, one of the Issei leaders of the Hoshi Dan in Block 40 told me that for my own sake I must renounce citizenship and should send a letter notifying the Attorney General. He tried to get me to join the Hoshi Dan. I refused. Mr. Mori, Mr. Kimura, and others of their group kept telling people they better renounce citizenship and they would cite examples of people who didn’t and who got attacked. Their organization was conducting marching demonstrations around the camp when I was told those things and the atmosphere of the camp was menacing. I was afraid it was too dangerous to try to be different from the rest of the people and find myself a marked man. We were afraid to speak in English because we would be considered as White Japs. My mother pleaded with us to send for the forms because we were fearful something would happen to us if we didn’t. There was no protection for us against these dangers. The police were not able to protect us. The wardens were just fire watchers. We couldn’t talk it intelligently without someone threatening another. There were stealings, beatings and killings. Having refused to join any of the organizations and not having sent for the renunciation forms, I realized I was a marked man if I didn’t do it. I realized the fears that likewise compelled so many of the people to make such applications for whom I filled out the forms that I was afraid of what would happen to me if I didn’t do it also. 

“At the hearing I was afraid. All I wanted was to get through with it. I could hardly speak. We knew the questions that were to be asked from previous interviews. I had not talked with a Caucasian in over three years and because of what had happened to us I had a feeling of fear, distrust, and resentment. 

“There were reports that the other camps were being emptied by people relocating and that Tule Lake would be closed and we would be sent outside and then there was a report Tule Lake would be kept open for a while. My mother was in fear of us having to relocate because we had no place to go home in California and she was afraid to go elsewhere. I wanted to try for relocation but didn’t dare leave my mother alone in camp. She believed if we children had renunciation hearings we could stay in camp with her and would be safe from the dangers outside. We were all afraid too that if we didn’t have the hearings that something would happen to us from the Hashi Dan Organization.  Members of the Seinen Dan and the Hoshi Dan were taken away from Tule Lake just before my renunciation hearing but there were lots of crowd in camp when I was called for my hearing and it was not safe to go against what the crowd was doing.  

“Living through all this terror with mixed worries and fears I was not convinced of the significance of renunciation except it relieved me of the worst of my tensions and fears and I felt that I was no longer in danger of separation, relocation and physical harm. 

“On Sept. 5th 1945, I wrote a letter to the Hon. Edward J. Ennis requesting cancellation of my renunciation. On Sept. 28th 1945, I wrote a similar letter to Hon. Tom C. Clark. The delay was due to ignorance. I thought there was nothing I could do about it. I was also afraid to act individually. I was not convinced of the gravity until told by Mr. Wayne M. Collins. I did not even trust him at the first because he was a Caucasian. I cannot believe that a Caucasian would be concerned about us. When I was sure that he was sincere I took his advice. 

“There are many factors for my actions. First I was very young and idealistic and easily hurt. Before the war, I had come to identify myself more and more as an American. Once I remember my father tearing America apart and I was trying to defend America. When my father had almost convinced me that he was right, I cried, “But I am an American, Papa.’ And I said this with tears in my eyes. 

I was bitter about evacuation and my refusal to answer the loyalty question was a protest. If my father had been there I think it would have been different. We would have talked it over. But my mother was only thinking of our momentary security. Yet I was always bothered by the fact that I was considered disloyal. I would have been much happier if I could have signed ‘Yes.’ I think that this feeling of guilt was the root of my later actions. I believed that I was not wanted in America, that I was a criminal. I didn’t know where I would go or what I would do. I didn’t think beyond the present day. I lived in fear. There was no law or justice. The only way to settle things eventually was by threats or beatings (often at night). There was also the sentry. Once a military police rapped on our door and asked if we knew of the man he had caught after curfew. Arrests like this and the shooting of distrusted them and I was afraid of them, too.  I did not want to feel safe.  Even while going through the procedures I didn’t realize the significance of it all.  I had no intentions of going to Japan and leaving my sick father behind.” 

In December 1971 when I was working as the Branch Manager of the Western Addition Branch of the San Francisco Public Library system, I sent Mr. Collins a Christmas card with a note thanking him for all he did for me and restoring me as an American, making possible the life I enjoyed now. He sent me a letter in response that reveals so much of the character of this great man who was the agent of democracy, worked hard and long to right the wrong that we had suffered. I value this letter more than anything I have, more than the letter of apologies signed by President George H. W. Bush and the trepanation check for $20,000 that I received from the government in 1988. I am one of the thousands, who owe Mr. Collins a personal thank you. 

In addition to our renunciation case, Mr. Collins supported the Yasui, Hirabayashi, and Endo cases, rescued hundreds of Peruvian Japanese from being removed to Japan, took the Korematsu case to the Supreme Court to challenge the constitutionality of the evacuation and internment, and spent over 25 years in defense of Iva Toguri d’Aquino, who falsely accused of being “Tokyo Rose,” to vindicate her good name and restore her U.S. citizenship. Upon his death in 1974, his son, also Wayne M. Collins, continue as Eva Toguri’s attorney and was successful in securing for her on January 19, 1977 a presidential pardon from president Gerald R. Ford and the restoration of her U.S. citizenship. 

Though motivated by his fierce devotion to the principles of Fair play and justice, the elder Mr. Collins was often reviled as a “Jap-lover” for his work defending Japanese Americans. Yet, it seems he had a specific affinity towards Japanese Americans. Mrs. Wada cites her family’s long-standing relationship with him – at first with her father Mr. Senri Nao and with her and the Wada family. It began one day in 1917 when Mr. Collins, an eighteen-year-old sailor, appeared at Mr. Nao’s art and gift shop on Grant Avenue in San Francisco and continued through the years until Mr. Collins’ tragic death in 1974. 

December 29, 1971

Dear Hiroshi Kashiwagi: 

You’re a thoughtful Christmas card carried a touching message. Surely you are too charitable in your thoughts of me. 

Our government deliberately perpetrated an outrage on our citizens and aliens of Japanese ancestry without justification. Neither it nor its servants appear to be repentent for their evil evacuation and consequent loss of liberty and property it caused to so many thousands of our victims and their injuries it inflicted on them.  All of its victims were innocent of any wrong doing whatsoever. None of them pose a threat or danger of any danger of any nature to our security. On the contrary the victims were the most law abiding and patriotic members of this nation. 

Those whom the government forced to renunciation of citizenship which was unconstitutional and void for duress were the only ones who tried to fight back against the grave injustices inflicted on them for this was the only avenue open to them to reveal their opposition to injustice. 

I neither deserve thanks nor seek credit for the little I was able to do to right the wrongs done to you and the many thousands of others who likewise were unjustly treated and abused by our government. The little I did was done, I truly believe, simply as an instrument for what was accomplished was purely providential. 

It was a pleasure to receive your Christmas card in the remembrance of things past and I was delighted to learn that you are the Librarian in Charge of the important Branch of our Library. 

You have my best of wishes for your continued success, and for the long, useful and happy lives for you and all the members of your good family. 

Sincerely, 

Wayne M. Collins