LETTERS
Topaz War Relocation Center
June 3, 1944
Helen!
Grace sure left you high and dry. Some friend! But it doesn’t surprise me. If she can’t bring herself to write to me, why would she help you? Ugh! If I ever get out of here, I hope you and Tommy will come and meet me. We could have some real adventures together.
I finally heard from Yori. The 442nd shipped out last month and landed at Anzio on the 28th. It sounds pretty bad over there. The 442nd’s motto is Go for Broke, but I hope Yori doesn’t do anything foolish.
It’s already an inferno here-well over 100 degrees. The ground is so dry that the surface has cracked and now looks like brown icebergs. Each step-crack, crack, crack.
These past fourteen months have been god-awful. Winter-snow, icicles, a potbellied stove, and a government-issued coat. Spring-sudden cloudbursts, flash floods, the bare earth of the camp turned into one big mudhole, and so much gunk sticking to our boots that we teased each other about being as tall as Occidentals. Ha, ha, ha! Now we’re back to dust storms-sometimes as many as three a day. And this damn heat.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen! From nightclub to crapville. The worst part about being here is that I’ve gotten used to the routine. I was never an early riser, but now I try to wake up early enough to be one of the first in the shower line to get the limited hot water. After that, a bell announces breakfast. Then lunch- Then dinner- Other people gab to me about the beauty of the landscape-the silhouette of a cactus against a twilight sky, the appearance of wildflowers after a cloudburst, the shifting reds of sand, the way the stars glitter with few lights to dim them. Blah, blah, blah. I know they’re trying to make the best of a bad situation, but they’re out of their gourds. I’ll always prefer champagne glasses and stage lights. I’ve been robbed of all that. I’ve been robbed of my life.
Okay, so we do get movies. (Most have been out for a long time, but they’re better than nothing.) We have dances. (But sometimes five girls are wearing the exact same dress ordered from the Sears, Roebuck catalog.) Variety shows. (Remember Goro Suzuki? He’s here, and he still does a good comedy routine.) Favorite song in the camp? “Don’t Fence Me In.” Gotta keep smiling and laughing, I always say!
I honestly don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t written back to me all those months ago. You were the only one, Helen. That still eats me up. No Grace- No Charlie- Not one of the ponies, guys in the band, or customers who used to drool over me- Only you.
I was finally allowed to fill out an Application for Leave Clearance. The War Relocation Authority has been releasing about a thousand people from different camps each week. All I need now is a job and a sponsor on the outside. Some girls have been sent to Maine and Vermont, but I don’t want a dumb job as a secretary somewhere practically off the map, and I never want to file again as long as I live. I’ve written to all the people who’ve written about me in Life, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter, and so many more. I’ve mailed letters to the big-deal night crawlers in New York-Ed Sullivan, Lee Mortimer, and Walter Winchell. A lot of folks have written back to say they can’t or won’t help me. I’m still hoping-
Yours till Austria gets Hungary and fries Turkey in Greece, Ruby P.S. Thanks for the cash. I’ll use it to buy some shampoo and conditioner. Sure will beat the baking soda mixed in water I’ve been using to clean my hair! Trying to stay positive, but man, oh, man.
San Francisco
June 10, 1944
Dear Ruby,
Feeling a bit blue today. I was up all night with Tommy, who has a fever. And I’m so worried about Eddie. Have you seen the pictures in the paper of the invasion of Normandy? Our boys wading through the water to shore- Those photos scared me. I know the situation’s different, but it reminds me of what happened to me in the rice paddies. I look at those pictures and I hear the sounds of death in my ears. And the water- I remember that so clearly-Being cold and terrified- The splashing- Seeing my father-in-law floating facedown- When I think of Eddie in something that- This morning, the papers showed photos of injured soldiers. Some of them had their entire heads wrapped in gauze except for little slits for their mouths and noses. Could Eddie be one of them?
Good iron should not be made into nails nor gentle men into soldiers.
Sorry to be low, Helen
Train to Denver
June 17, 1944
Dear Helen,
Greetings! I’m sitting in the lounge car on a train heading to Denver, and I’m surrounded by boys, boys, boys-all in uniform. They’re playing cards, drinking beers, and doing their darnedest to distract me from my letter writing. Outside the window, I see salt flats-nothing to write home about, although I’m writing about it to you. I hear it’ll be beautiful when we start climbing into the Rockies.
Remember when Eddie used to tell us that all troupers are born tramps and that when you’re in show business, you’ll go east, west, north, and up the hill to get a job? That’s me now! I broke in my act at the Mapes Hotel in Reno. Then I traveled to El Rancho in Las Vegas, the Ranch on the Everett Highway in Seattle (where I broke the theater’s record for highest attendance!), and the Clover Club in Portland. I’m seeing America all right. Everywhere I go folks are 100% behind the war. People are pulling together and doing their parts. I’m doing my part too by giving my ALL!
After a tiring show, I can knock off a sixteen-ounce sirloin, but I’m still holding my weight under a hundred pounds, because I dance so hard and travel all the time. The other day, when I was interviewed about my figure, I said, I eat like a bird-like a bird who eats cats. (Big laugh.) Dancing is strenuous work, I told another reporter, but it’s better than going back to the laundry. (Remember when Charlie used to crack that one? Well, it’s true for me!)
I’m copying this from one of my reviews-
If not for the Oriental Danseuse’s race, she would undoubtedly be in New York’s Rainbow Room or some other first-line cabaret. She is that beautiful, witty, and talented.
I’ll get there too!
I’m really happy I did this, but, Helen, I miss you tons. Please give Tommy a kiss and a hug from his special auntie. When you have a chance, will you write to me about Eddie? I’d sure like to know how he’s doing.
Your gal pal, Grace
P.S. I almost forgot to mention that I ran into the Merry Mahjongs! In Las Vegas! Crazy, huh? They’re out on the road too-kicking that gong around!
P.P.S. Why haven’t you written? You aren’t still mad at me, are you?
Somewhere in the Pacific