NikkeiWest
Tooru Mochida, 90, of Oakdale passed away on Nov. 28. He was born Dec. 25, 1932 in Oakland.
He was the last surviving male from the famous Mochida family photograph taken by Dorothea Lange.
He is survived by siblings Kayoko Ikuma and Hiroko Mochida; sons Keith (New Hampshire), Kevin (Oakdale), and Kenneth (Livermore); and five grandchildren. He was predeceased by brother Masaru Mochida and sisters Miyuki Hirano and Satsuki Ward.
Services were held on Dec. 16 in Oakdale.
When he was 9, Mochida was sent to the Topaz camp in Utah. For three years, he slept on an Army cot, sharing one room with his parents and six siblings.
Some 11,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated at Topaz, mostly from the San Francisco Bay Area.
Mochida’s father, a skilled nurseryman, had to work as a janitor when the war ended and the family relocated to Hunters Point in San Francisco. Within 10 years, he was dead from tuberculosis.
Mochida wasn’t bitter. In 2001, after the terrorist attacks in New York City and Washington, D.C., he went to work as an airport security officer. He became a supervisory officer with the Transportation Security Administration.
Fit at 80, Mochida commuted to Oakland International Airport from Tracy. Friends and co-workers called him Mo.
In an interview, he shared his memories of his family’s wartime experience: “I was three years in the Topaz internment camp in Utah. I know my parents took a beating because of that, but they never complained about being there. There’s a word in Japanese, shikkari, which means ‘be strong, persevere.’
“My sisters and I never spoke about it either, until 25 or 30 years after the war when this photographer from The Sacramento Beefound people who were at Topaz. I wasn’t reluctant to talk about it. It’s just that we had our lives to live. There’s another Japanese saying, shikata ga nai: ‘water under the bridge.’
“Today, when I think about it from my father’s side, I can understand why he might’ve become frustrated or disappointed. He’d just started a business six months before the war broke out. So in a very short period of time we had to get rid of everything. We were only able to take what we could carry.
“I remember my bike being sold. I was very upset about that. The first place we went was Tanforan Racetrack. We slept in horse stalls, and I still remember the smell of horse manure. We were there a few months and (in September 1942) they sent us by train to Utah.
“Topaz was a step up from Tanforan. It was run just like an Army camp. The bathrooms were shared. The food was okay for me, but I know for a lot of the older generation it really sucked. It was all American food. Nothing Japanese.
“No, I’m not bitter. It was my father and mother and sisters that bore the brunt of it. Being the oldest son, I was king of the family. I had chores to do, but not that many. The rooms were heated with a pot-bellied stove, so I’d go to the coal pile to get the coal and bring it back to the apartment to burn.
“There was a school. It was just like a community. The only difference was, being 9 years old, all of a sudden everybody around me is Japanese. Whereas when I was here in Oakland, everybody around me was Caucasian.
“When I was in camp, I didn’t worry about anything. My mother and father were there. I was a brat, a typical 9-year-old. With five sisters. So to me it was quite a different world.
“It was a bad thing for the government to do. And it changed our lives. One of the things it really destroyed was the strong Japanese family structure. After the camp, in a lot of homes that structure just fell apart. That’s about the most damaging thing that’s happened.”
At the same time, Mochida wanted to contribute to America: “On Sept. 1, 2001, I gave my resignation at my old job in manufacturing management. When 9/11 happened, I said, ‘Maybe I can try to make a contribution. Because the country’s been good to me.’
“A friend was working as a private security contractor at the airport. I said, ‘I’ll come and join you if I can learn to run the X-ray machine for baggage.’ I started in February 2002, and TSA was formed later that year.
“The United States gave me opportunities. I was stationed in Japan in the military and went back a few times on business. Let me tell you, I’m so glad I was born and raised here.
“Over there, it’s so restrictive. In the U.S., I was able to start three businesses. Never in a blue moon could I do that in Japan. Here, you can have an idea and the will and you can get it done.
“When I went to work for TSA, I wasn’t worried about the money. I wanted to make a contribution. I was doing a lot of the training, and I tried to convince (TSA workers) that if you have a smile on your face and just say a few words when the passenger is leaving, it makes a world of difference. ‘Have a good day.’ ‘Enjoy your flight.’
“Some forget, and their etiquette isn’t what it should be. They forget this might be the first time for a passenger coming through security. I tell them, ‘Be a little patient, understanding. Tell them, “Take your laptop out, put your cosmetics on the side. Don’t forget to take your shoes off.”
“I’m fortunate, I’m blessed. I can keep up with a 50-year-old. I work four days a week, 10 hours a day from 7 a.m. to 5:30. It’s a 90-minute commute in the morning, an hour at night.
“A lot of my work for TSA is in the office. I’m helping schedule the crew. I track all the sensitive security information. I schedule a lot of the training and coordinate the associate’s program, which allows people to go to college while they work here. But I’m at the airport every day, either in the baggage point or at the security checkpoint.
“I’ll tell you, this job is a lot easier now than when I first started. The attitude of the passengers has changed. They know they have to go though security; it’s something they sort of accept now.”
This article has material that was published by Edward Guthmann in 2013 and is reprinted with permission.