Season 2. Episode 5. Terminal Island - Japanese Fishing Village. Part 2.

Transcript

The Harbor Area Podcast — Terminal Island Japanese Fishing Village (Part Two)

Guests: Alice Nagano and Donna Reiko Cottrell (Vice President, Terminal Island Board of Directors)

[Music in — gentle waves]

HOST (Joel Torrez Jr.):
Welcome back to The Harbor Area Podcast and to part two of our conversation with Alice and Donna about San Pedro’s Japanese fishing village.

📍 HOST (narration):
Imagine this: you’re sitting at home watching television—or scrolling Instagram—when there’s a knock at the door. You look outside and federal authorities are standing there. Within moments, you’re told you have to leave. No explanation. No destination. No real chance to prepare. You don’t know where you’re going, how long you’ll be gone, or if you’ll ever return. And the only reason is the way you look—the color of your skin—and your family’s heritage.
That was the reality for Japanese Americans during World War II.

Today, we reflect on that experience—and on the racism that existed long before Pearl Harbor. We’ll discuss the differences between concentration camps, internment camps, and death camps, and why words matter when we tell this history. Alice shares what life was like for her family after the war, and together with Donna we explore how advocacy and raising your voice can help preserve the physical spaces and stories that might otherwise be erased.
 This is a conversation about memory, injustice, and resilience—and about how the past still echoes in the present.

[Music out]

Pearl Harbor and the 48-Hour Removal

HOST:
Pearl Harbor—December 7, 1941—was a U.S. naval base near Honolulu, Hawaii, attacked by Japan. It wasn’t connected to Terminal Island, but the repercussions here were immediate.

DONNA REIKO COTTRELL:
Right. Terminal Island was strategically located—near Reeves Field, Bethlehem Shipbuilding, and the oil refineries. The military didn’t want “enemy aliens,” as they called them, so close to these sites. They pushed for removal of everyone.

DONNA:
On February 25, 1942, a 48-hour eviction order went into effect. By February 27, everyone was removed from Terminal Island, and the village was bulldozed—stores, homes, everything. Just three months after the attack.

DONNA:
On February 19, now remembered as Day of Remembrance, President Roosevelt signed the order that enabled the government to remove people of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast. The 48-hour eviction was step one. Then they tore down nearly everything—except for two buildings on Tuna Street that we’ll talk about later.

ALICE NAGANO:
All that were left were women and children. Most women didn’t drive; there were no cars, no boxes. People built boxes out of wood, and churches and other Japanese communities helped transport families and belongings. Some people slept on church floors. My grandparents drove from Santa Ana to get us.

ALICE:
I still think about my mother. For years, we used an icebox. Her dream was to buy a real refrigerator. She saved and finally got one. I remember her polishing it—then Pearl Harbor happened. We had to leave, and she left it behind. I can still feel how heartbreaking that was for her.

DONNA:
Some families were sent to Santa Anita Racetrack first, into horse stables, until the camps were ready. It was awful, but they had to clean and live there temporarily.

Manzanar and Terminology: Why Words Matter

HOST:
Alice, where did you go?

ALICE:
I went to Manzanar. My husband—he wasn’t from Terminal Island—went to a different camp.

DONNA:
By April 5, 1942, Manzanar opened. Many Terminal Islanders were sent there—about 800 of them. We refer to places like Manzanar as concentration camps. There was a conversation between Japanese American and Jewish communities about terms. Historically, “concentration camps” referred to incarceration based on race or ethnicity. The Nazi camps where millions were murdered are often called death camps. “Internment” and “relocation center” were government euphemisms that softened the reality.

DONNA:
Nothing about these facilities was “nice.” Meals were in mess halls; people stood in long lines outside in summer heat or winter cold. That was daily life.

The Timeline: Forced Out, Twice

HOST:
Let’s recap. The 48-hour order was February 25. By February 27, everyone was off Terminal Island. Alice, you and your mother fled to Santa Ana. Your father had been taken from the boat and you didn’t know where he was. Manzanar opened April 5, and large numbers were sent there. Later, when the war ended—September 2, 1945—what happened?

ALICE:
We were forced out again. We’d made the camps livable—gardens, small parks, community—and then the war ended, and we had to leave. There was nowhere to go. We were dropped at a small trailer camp. We didn’t know the neighborhood—we were just grateful to have a roof.

ALICE:
Later, families moved into the Cabrillo Homes (Navy housing off PCH—Cabrillo 1, 2, and 3). We lived there for a while.

HOST:
When did your father come back?

ALICE:
He passed away shortly after we left camp, when I was 12. Years later, my mother remarried a very kind man, and they bought a home near Santa Fe and Adriatic.

Compliance, Loyalty, and a Culture of Restraint

HOST:
How did families respond to the government orders?

ALICE:
We did as we were told. There was no uprising. Respect for law, order, and not bringing shame on family or community—those values were strong.

DONNA:
There was one camp with unrest; many there later repatriated to Japan. Across camps, adults were given loyalty questionnaires. If you marked “no,” you could be sent away.

Aftermath for the Fishing Industry

HOST:
How did the fishing industry change after the community was removed?

DONNA:
The tuna industry was overwhelmingly immigrant—about 99% of the fishermen were immigrants. In the 1930s, Japanese fishermen held roughly half the fishing licenses; other immigrant groups held most of the rest. Fishing put Los Angeles on the map—there’s an albacore on the LA County seal. Most tuna canneries were here; the industry was strong through the 1940s and into the 1950s.

📍 DONNA:
In the 1960s, things started to change. Overfishing meant boats had to go farther south. In the 1970s, “tuna wars”—Central and South American countries set 200-mile limits. Costs rose, competition increased (including from Asia), and U.S. regulations tightened. One by one, the canneries closed. Starkist was the last to go. That’s why people forget how central fishing once was here.

HOST (to Alice):
What we’re noticing is that the waters and coastlines don’t look like they did when you were a child. Back then, the biospheres were alive with fish and marine life. Families swam at beaches—like Brighton Beach—that don’t even exist anymore.

ALICE:
Yes. We swam there all summer. Much of that abundance is gone. Overfishing and industrial development reshaped the ocean—and erased parts of our community’s history.

Geography, Memory, and Public Understanding

HOST:
[Looking at map] This entire island footprint here—that was the Japanese fishing village?

DONNA:
Mm-hmm. We also called it East San Pedro.

HOST:
Do enough people today understand what happened?

DONNA:
I don’t think so. Many never learned it in school. A neighbor from Mississippi told me she’d never heard about the camps. The good news is younger people are asking more questions, and textbooks are starting to include it. We host junior high and high school students at the Terminal Island Monument—curiosity is growing, and it will depend on the younger generation.

DONNA:
My mother lived through the Depression and the camps. Sometimes I wonder if my grandmother ever thought she’d made a mistake coming to the “land of opportunity.”

Parallels and Civil Rights

HOST:
It can feel like due process is under strain again today.

ALICE:
I feel for people being picked up without cause. That happened to us—we were living our lives, then we were herded away. Many still don’t know what happened back then.

DONNA:
For context: even at 1/16 Japanese ancestry, people could be incarcerated. My parents—an interracial couple—could not legally marry in California in the 1940s. Miscegenation laws weren’t overturned until the 1950s here. People don’t realize how different it was just a few decades ago.

HOST (to Alice):
How does it feel that what you experienced nearly a century ago still echoes now?

ALICE:
It hurts. I feel for those families. It’s wrong.

Schools, Access, and Ethnic Studies

DONNA:
We’ve hosted schools from Palos Verdes and Torrance, but not from San Pedro or Wilmington—the communities closest to this history. LAUSD budgets make field trips hard: buses can be $1,000 each; subs and lunches add more. We’d love to welcome San Pedro and Wilmington students to the memorial.

DONNA:
Ethnic studies used to be an elective in the ’60s and ’70s. Now, I’ve been told it will be a required course.

HOST (reflection):
Living in one of the most diverse counties in the country, it feels especially powerful to see ethnic studies become required. For too long, these histories were treated as optional instead of essential. Here in Los Angeles County—where cultures, languages, and communities intersect—it’s not just important; it’s necessary. Ethnic studies helps young people understand their own heritage and their neighbors’ stories. That builds empathy, connection, and a deeper sense of belonging.

Manzanar Remembered

HOST:
Alice, you returned to Manzanar recently?

ALICE:
Yes—this April, for the annual commemoration. What I remembered most were the snowcapped mountains. Growing up on Terminal Island, I’d never seen mountains. It was beautiful. Manzanar was our home after Terminal Island—we made gardens and small parks. That’s what I remember.

Closing

[Music rises]

HOST:
Thanks for listening to The Harbor Area Podcast. If you enjoyed today’s episode, please subscribe, leave a review, and share it with a friend. If there’s a hidden gem you want me to uncover next, send me a message.
I’m Joel Torrez. Until next time, be good to each other—and be good to the water that connects us all.

[Music out]