Hirohito’s Death Stirs Memories of Old Japan

As a child growing up in Japan, Kaoruko Yamanouchi remembers dressing in her best clothes every summer to welcome young Emperor Hirohito as he stopped in her hometown of Utsunomiya, about an hour north of Tokyo, while traveling to his summer residence.

Yamanouchi has lived in the United States for 30 years, but on Saturday she was wearing a black armband as she went about her errands in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo.

To her, the late Emperor Hirohito, who died Friday at the age of 87, was a “scholar (who) loved our country,” and only a recent knee operation will keep her from returning to her homeland for his funeral.

“I asked my doctor yesterday if I could go,” said Yamanouchi, a retired social worker. “He said, ‘No.’ ”

For Japanese immigrants living in Little Tokyo, particularly the elderly, the emperor’s death is a somber occasion, but it has far less meaning for Japanese-Americans born in the United States, no matter what their age.

“I’m American-born, so for me it’s like something happening to the King or Queen of England,” said Ruth Miyauchi, a resident of Little Tokyo Towers, an apartment building for senior citizens.

“I’m sure my parents are grieving about it, or my grandparents,” said Judy Miyakawa, a Cal Poly freshman, as she arrived for work at the Japan-America Theater box office. “He’s more of a symbol of old Japan. But Japan is so capitalistic now. I don’t know why everybody’s making such a big fuss about it.”

Kimiko Roberts, a seventh-grader and fourth-generation Japanese-American, has never been to Japan. But she learned about the emperor recently when she wrote a report about him for school.

“To me, I guess I’m more of a true American, so I don’t really feel that much,” said Kimiko, who was wearing a black-and-white sweat shirt with matching hoop earrings. “But I know it is really hard on the people who live in Japan.”

Few Signs of Mourning

Despite the emperor’s death and the unusually chilly weather, the shopping plazas in Little Tokyo were bustling Saturday. Japanese-language newspaper clippings reporting Hirohito’s death were displayed in the windows of the Kouraku restaurant and the Modern Food Market; otherwise, there were few visible signs of mourning.

Meanwhile, officials at the Japanese Consulate in Los Angeles were planning to accept condolences next week from business and political leaders and members of the 190,000-member Japanese-American community in the county.

A spokesman said condolence calls can be made Monday and Tuesday between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m. at the consulate, Suite 1200 in the Sumitomo Bank Building, 250 E. 1st St.

Officials of other large organizations had no immediate plans to mark the emperor’s death.

The Japanese-American Cultural and Community Center planned to go ahead with a New Year’s event scheduled for today at 11:30 a.m., according to Katsumi Kunitsugu, executive secretary. She said a statement about the emperor will be read as part of the program.

At the Kyosan Buddhist Temple where a memorial service is tentatively planned for Jan. 15, Seicho Asahi, one of the ministers who came to this country seven years ago, said that for him, the loss is personal. “He was part of the family,” Asahi said.

And at Yagura Ichiban restaurant, the Japanese-born manager, Takee Sato, said he would light incense at Nishi Hongwanshi Temple to commemorate the emperor’s death. “He was like a god,” said Sato in halting English.

Highlighting the differences in reaction to the emperor’s passing between immigrant and the American-born were two personal recollections with contrasting overtones.

A white-haired American-born woman in charge of the visitors’ register at the Japanese-American Cultural and Community Center had a personal memory of Emperor Hirohito that was more amusing than sad.

When she was 11, the woman spent a year at a Japanese grammar school. One day, the emperor paid a visit.

To show their respect, the schoolchildren were told to kneel and keep their heads bowed. As an American unused to such gestures, she remained on her feet to the mortification of her mother, who also happened to be visiting.

“(Hirohito) didn’t smile. He looked straight ahead,” said the woman, who was too embarrassed to see her name published. “He had a beautiful face, like a movie star.”

But for Hiroshi Nanadzue, 86, a native of Japan, Hirohito’s death has unlocked deep-seated memories from his childhood. As a boy, Nanadzue lived near the Imperial Palace in Tokyo and every morning he used to tip his cap to the young prince as the future emperor and his two brothers rode to school in a horse-drawn buggy. Every morning, Hirohito would nod back.

“People say, ‘The emperor. The emperor.’ To me, he was just another kid,” Nanadzue said, brushing tears from his eyes.