300310 - The Drawn Bow

The Empire Builders broadcast of March 10, 1930, featured a story called “The Drawn Bow.” This story was written by a man named Walter W. Dickson. So far, I have turned up little information about him. Somewhere in my notes I think I have a reference to his being a professor of English and/or drama at the University of Washington, but that might be my bad memory playing tricks on me. I do know that Dickson was from Seattle. In addition to “The Drawn Bow,” Dickson also authored another Empire Builders story, “The Denny Hill Hermit.” How his stories came to the attention of the Great Northern Railway and NBC is another mystery I have yet to solve.

When you account for the fact that the stories performed in Empire Builders broadcasts were written in the late 1920’s and early 1930’s, you have to accept they were obviously written for audiences of the day, and for the entertainment sensibilities of people in American society at that time. To judge them by the light of the 21^st century is perhaps unfair. Having said that, I still find some of the narratives to be a bit campy and melodramatic. On the other hand, I think “The Drawn Bow” is one of the more successfully written stories utilized by Empire Builders. I’m no expert on the subject of radio scripts, but I know this particular story appeals to me more than most in this series. Notwithstanding a frequent and unabashed theme of promoting travel on the Great Northern Railway (which was, after all, the whole point of this radio series), the story of “The Drawn Bow” does a fine job of intertwining drama, cultural differences, and a tragic love story. Through it all is the Old Timer, who keeps any of the stronger hooks in the story from derailing the whole thing into a litany of despair. There is a continual theme of hope for a happy ending, aided by the promise of fast and comfortable travel options (thanks to yet another reassuring word from our sponsor).

Here is the opening of the continuity for this broadcast:

(MUSIC FADING INTO OPENING ANNOUNCEMENT)

ANNOUNCER:

You are listening to Empire Builders, a presentation by the Great Northern Railway.

(FADE INTO JAPANESE MUSIC AND THE SOUND OF HAPPY YOUNG VOICES AS A GROUP OF YOUNG PEOPLE PLAY TENNIS)

A young man named Takashi and his tennis partner, a young woman named Suisan, are finishing up a match with another couple – the final game of the match ending with Takashi and Suisan holding off their opponents from scoring a single point. The tennis over, Suisan complimented Takashi on his superior skill at playing tennis. Takashi was not entirely happy with what he saw as her unspoken qualifier (“you  … play better than any of us … but you’re different”), but this allowed us to learn a critical detail about Takashi’s identity.

TAKASHI:             You mean … I’m white and it comes naturally – (BITTERLY) Suisan why do you always insist on my being different? I’m Japanese just as much as you are … even if I am white and don’t know who my real father and mother were. Sakura Yamato, your mother has been the only mother I remember and I love her – and you – Sui-san.

SUISAN:               But someday you’ll go away … to your own people, Takashi.

TAKASHI:             Never! I’ll never go away from you. … (SOFTLY) Sui-san, our last game was a love game. We won it together, you and I. I want to go on winning love games … with you … forever. I … I love you, Suisan. You aren’t my real sister and I – You do care a little for me … don’t you?

SUISAN:               Takashi dear, I love you more than anything in the world but … you’re so young … we’re only eighteen. You’ve always lived with mother and me … never with your own people … someday you’ll want to go away … and if you ever do, you’ll forget me.

Well, okay. That might be just a bit awkward. Takashi appears to be Suisan’s foster brother, but rather than a typical sibling relationship, Takashi and Suisan were expressing a more direct affection for each other. It’s only a 30-minute broadcast in which to develop a somewhat complex story, so let’s just accept that although Suisan and Takashi have grown up with the same mother (one by birth, and perhaps the other by adoption), the two young people have become very fond of one another. And since Takashi is clearly identified as white, and not a birth child of Suisan’s Japanese mother and father, we can certainly distance ourselves from the “sibling” relationship. For the sake of nice story, it is important to do so.

At this point in the story, it just so happens that the Old Timer, in Japan on business of some sort, was invited to visit the school where Takashi and Suisan have been playing tennis. Their mother Sakura (a teacher at the school) was also present, and the Old Timer was introduced to her. The Old Timer then asked if Takashi and Suisan were two of Mrs. Yamato’s students.

SAKURA:              They are my son, Takashi, and my daughter, Suisan, Old Timer. Two sources of much happiness to an old woman. What would I do without them I do not know. May I never have to find out.

OLD TIMER:        They sure are two A-1 youngsters – But … I never saw a Japanese with yellow hair … Please don’t think I’m being inquisitive, ma’am … but that boy looks white.

SAKURA:              (QUIETLY)  He is white, Old Timer – He is white and not really my son, yet I have great difficulty in realizing it. He has been mine for so many years.

OLD TIMER:        Well, doggone it, if that don’t sound like an interesting story. Would you think an old man curious if I was to ask you how he came to you?

Thank goodness the Old Timer was, in fact, an inquisitive old goat. He always managed to be just curious enough to wrangle information out of a stranger without coming across as insensitive or impolite. Sakura Yamato was only too willing to tell the peculiar tale of how Takashi entered her life.

SAKURA:              He came to me as a bit of flotsam after a storm, Old Timer. A gift from the gods. Almost fifteen years ago. I had gone down to the beach after a typhoon had swept the coast, to see what damage had been done, and was just turning back when I noticed something floating about five hundred yards from shore. I sent one of my servants out to get it. It proved to be an empty-water-butt fastened to a hatch … it had been ripped off by the storm. And lashed to the cask was a three year old child … a boy. How he had ever survived the fury of the storm, or how far he had been carried by the wind, only the gods could tell. It was by a miracle that he lived. I made inquiries, but the storm had swept over a course hundreds of miles and I never could find any trace of the child’s parents. So I named the baby Takashi, and raised him as my son. I – I love him as my son, Old Timer. My only fear is that some day he may be taken from me … and yet I could not rob his real mother of him, if I knew she lived.

This is an example of a "water butt" - essentially a rain barrel. I suspect they were quite valuable to have on ship's decks to capture drinkable rain water on long voyages. Probably still are, in many circumstances.

You can probably get a sense of where this is going. With a nice musical interlude, the scene shifted back to the interior of the Oriental Limited, where the Old Timer was having a chat with the conductor.

CONDUCTOR:    Well, Old Timer, so you’re back on the Oriental Limited? Don’t they ever let you off traveling? I’ll bet you hardly know how to act in an honest to goodness house. Don’t you ever get tired?

OLD TIMER:        Say, I’m so spoiled with the service I get on the Great Northern trains that I can’t stay in a hotel more’n a couple of nights, but I get homesick for my good old compartment. Doggone my sides but I get so slicked up when I travel on this train, I’m almost afraid to meet my old pals. They might think I was some tenderfoot dude. Why I’ve had my bath and shave and haircut and even a manicure same as I’d get in a New York hotel. Conductor, I reckon the Old Timer’s getting soft.  (LAUGHS)

The conductor asked the Old Timer where he was headed (although in reality, it seems the conductor would at least already know where he was detraining). Explaining that he was “traveling over the trail those old Empire Builders visualized as the road that would join America to the Orient,” the Old Timer told the conductor he was traveling out to Seattle, where he would catch the ocean liner President Taft for a sailing to Tokyo. The conductor (in cahoots with our sponsor no doubt) assured the Old Timer he was travelling on the best possible route to make his trip.

CONDUCTOR:    And you sure picked it right by taking the Oriental Limited. We travel the shortest transcontinental route. You couldn’t get there any quicker.

OLD TIMER:        You make good connections with the boats for Japan, too, don’t you?

CONDUCTOR:    Yep, with both the Dollar Line and the NYK. This train lands you within five minutes of the docks.

The reference to being “within five minutes of the docks” indicated the short distance between King Street Station in south Seattle and the Great Northern Docks at Seattle’s Smith Cove, where the Dollar Line and Nippon Yusen Kaisha ships tied up.

The S.S. President Taft of the Dollar Steamship Line,
with departures out of Seattle for points in the Orient.

The conductor of the Oriental Limited called the Old Timer’s attention to a woman in the observation car. He asked the Old Timer if he had noticed her.

OLD TIMER:        You’re darned right I have. I may be an old man, but I still have my eyes. And I’ll say right here that I never saw a more beautiful face … or a more tragic one. She looks younger than her white hair would indicate, too. Know who she is?

CONDUCTOR:    Only that her name is Mrs. Bowman and that she’s going to Glacier National Park. She’s very reserved … hardly ever speaks to anyone although she’s always very courteous. It isn’t the first time she’s been on this train, either. And yet nobody knows any more about her now than they did the first time she made the trip.

The two men watched as the lady gazed at a small boy, and they both agreed that she seemed heartened by the sight of the child, and yet somehow very saddened as well. The conductor excused himself, and the Old Timer began talking with Mrs. Bowman.

OLD TIMER:        So long. Guess I’ll just read a little … (AFTER A PAUSE) I beg pardon, madam, but had you finished with this magazine?

MRS. B:                (GRACIOUSLY)  Why yes, please take it.  (HESITANTLY)  Didn’t I hear the conductor address you as Old Timer?

OLD TIMER:        I guess you did. Most everybody calls me that nowadays. I’ve almost forgotten what my real name is.

MRS. B:                Then you must be the Old Timer I hear on the Empire Builders program on the radio. You know, I’d like to tell you how much I have enjoyed your stories of the old days … It reminds me of the tales my … husband used to tell.

With dialog like this, it’s no wonder that some real Great Northern passengers actually thought they might encounter the Old Timer onboard the Empire Builder or the Oriental Limited. Here’s a report of just such an incident, reported by an NBC executive:

Don E. Gilman, Vice-President in charge of the Pacific Division, National Broadcasting Company, who returned to San Francisco from New York recently, came west on the Empire Builder, the train which provides the title for the Great Northern Railway’s weekly dramatic program, broadcast through the NBC network Monday nights. As the train neared Oregon, a little gray-haired lady who had worn a curious air of expectancy for almost the entire day, sat back and sighed: “I’ve enjoyed this whole trip,” she confided in Gilman. “All my life I’ve planned to see the West, and now I’m here at last. But I’m just a little bit disappointed about one thing – I did so hope to see that man they called ‘Old Timer’ in the Empire Builders program – I kind of thought he might be on this train!”

[Broadcast Weekly, June 13, 1931, Vol. 10, No. 24]

Don Gilman of the National Broadcasting Company. Author's collection

The Old Timer picked up on the fact that Mrs. Bowman was getting melancholy again. Perhaps her weeping tipped him off. The Old Timer asked her why she was crying, and Mrs. Bowman explained that her husband was dead, and that she was still grieving. He tried to change the subject, but it was to no avail.

OLD TIMER:        I see … Let’s talk of something else. Are you making the trip clear to the coast?

MRS. B:                No, I’m only going to the Park. I’m … I’m a very restless person. I never stay long in one place … But the Park always holds peace for me … at least for a time … It’s so big … I guess.

OLD TIMER:        Yes, I know what you mean. The ocean does the same thing for me … (AN INVOLUNTARY CRY FROM MRS. BOWMAN)  Oh, now I’ve hurt you again!

MRS. B:                You couldn’t know … it’s only that the ocean could never mean peace for me … it  … it robbed me forever of any peace … or hope.

OLD TIMER:        (VERY GENTLY)  I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. We won’t talk about it any more.

Seems like just about anything the Old Timer said was setting her off crying again. He was plum running out of safe topics. Thankfully Mrs. Bowman offered to just spill the beans and get it all out. She told the Old Timer a little bit about her late husband.

MRS. B:      . . . My name is Bowman. My husband was Jefferson Bowman. He was a lumberman in the old days … considerably older than I, but we were very happy together.

The Old Timer perked up at this. A familiar recollection came to mind.

OLD TIMER:        Just a moment. Did he sell lumber to the Orient trade?

MRS. B:                Why, yes … Did you know him?

OLD TIMER:        I think I did. He and I were engaged in the same business at one time and then we became separated … I haven’t heard of him for years.

Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. Mrs. Bowman began to open up and start tying this story together before the 30-minute broadcast ran out of time.

MRS. B:                He died sixteen years ago. He and my little boy – (WITH A SOB)  If only I … But I will try to tell you about it. In 1914, my husband retired from business. We had often planned what we should do once Jefferson could have some leisure. His one dream was to buy a yacht and cruise the Pacific. Now he could carry out his dream. Our little son was three years old, and we decided to take him with us to Japan … our first voyage … We were so happy all those beautiful idyllic days on board. The weather was glorious – nothing but sun and calm blue water. I had everything I loved and wanted … And then … one day, just as we were nearing Japan …

Wouldn’t you know it, there was a . . . [wait for it . . .] storm on the horizon.

Evidently the Bowman’s owned a rather sizable motor yacht. They had a Captain and a crew of at least two or three on board. The Captain confided in Mr. Bowman that things were looking bleak – there was a typhoon brewing, and they couldn’t outrun it to safe harbor. The wind and waves grew to a frightful attack on the yacht. The situation quickly plunged into one of great peril.

VOICE:                 The propeller’s gone, sir! I can’t hold her any longer!

CAPTAIN:             God help us then! Life preservers everybody! Stand by the boats (IN A LOW VOICE)  Though it’s certain death to launch them.

The sound effects boys whipped up huge waves to crash over the deck, and the snapping of large timbers was heard.

JEFFERSON:        Louise! Where’s the baby? Get him, quick! Get Franklin! This boat is being dashed to pieces! Quick, darling! I’ll get the preservers!

MRS. B:                (CALLING) (IN THE DISTANCE)  Franklin, Franklin, darling where are you? (SOUND OF FRIGHTENED CHILD CRYING)  Jeff, what shall we do?  (SCREAMS AS A HUGE WAVE DASHES OVER THEM)

JEFF:                     What about the boats, Captain?

CAPTAIN:             No use. Couldn’t even lower them in this wind. Better lash yourselves to something solid and trust to providence. The boat may hold together till the storm is past.

JEFFERSON:        Louise! Help me tie Franklin to this water-butt. It’s to keep him from being swept from the deck. (CHILD CRIES IN FEAR. SOBS OF MOTHER AND NOISE OF WIND AND WAVES)  That’s it, my brave dear … now I’ll do the same for you … Keep up your courage, honey, we’ll get through yet!

(A SUDDEN TREMENDOUS WAVE AND CRASH AND RENDING OF WOOD … THEN AN AGONIZED SCREAM FROM MRS. BOWMAN AND A CRY OF ANGUISH FROM JEFF.)

Oh dear. This is not good. A calming piece of soft music carried the anxious radio listeners back to the tranquil scene of Mrs. Bowman chatting with the Old Timer onboard the Oriental Limited. The devastated woman continued to explain her plight to the understanding Old Timer.

MRS. B:                (SOBBING)  That wave carried away the water-butt to which my baby was lashed … carried away the butt and the hatch it was fastened to. I fainted and when I came to hours later I was in a Japanese fishing boat. The storm was over, and so was my life. My husband had jumped overboard after the baby – he – he must have been drowned. No one could have lived in that maelstrom of water. I was in a daze for months, I wandered all over Japan searching … searching for news … even the word that their bodies had been found would have made it easier … but there was nothing. When I came back to what semblance of sanity I now have… my hair was white… as it is now… And yet…

Uhmmm…. “And yet” what, Mrs. Bowman . . .?

MRS. B:                I can’t get over the feeling that my baby wasn’t drowned. Somehow I am always dreaming that I’ve found him… alive… and well… and it’s driving me mad.

OLD TIMER:        I know… I know.  (TO HIMSELF)  Now I wonder… I wonder…  (SUDDENLY)  Mrs. Bowman, how old would the boy be now if he were alive?

MRS. B:                (SADLY)  Just eighteen. Why?

Well, it just so happens I know of this blond haired, brown-eyed eighteen-year-old Japanese kid who washed ashore 15 years ago, that’s all – that’s not quite the way the script went, but it’s pretty close. But wait! There’s more!

OLD TIMER:        And he had a cleft chin just like yours! Darn my mangy old hide, but I’ll bet I’m right! He’s the same one!

MRS. B:                What are you talking about?

OLD TIMER:        Mrs. Bowman, I’ll bet ten dollars to a Canadian dime your boy’s alive – and I know where he is!

MRS. B:                You can’t mean it! Oh! You’re not joking?

OLD TIMER:        By the great Mexican Jumping Bean he must be the one! And I’ll take you to him!

MRS. B:                Where is he? How do you know? OH! Tell me!

OLD TIMER:        You’re not going to Glacier Park! – You’re coming to Seattle with me! And we’re both going to Tokio on the President Taft!

Not to detract from an upbeat turn to this tragic tale, but I have a copy of the Great Northern Railway’s public timetable for February/March, 1930. It includes a sailing schedule for several ships of the Dollar Steamship Line. The President Taft was scheduled to sail out of Seattle on February 22^nd. I’m not opposed to tying fiction to fact here and assuming our story unfolded a few weeks prior to the broadcast, and that the Old Timer and Mrs. Bowman therefore must have sailed across the Pacific after boarding the President Taft on February 22^nd. And as another quick aside before returning to our story, you probably noticed that the continuity has the alternate spelling of “Tokio” rather than “Tokyo.” It’s probably just coincidence, but there is a town in North Dakota called Tokio. It was established as a Great Northern station in 1906. Place names historian and author Douglas Wick states that contrary to the obvious notion it was named for the city in Japan, Tokio, North Dakota, was named by a GN official who based it on the Native American word “to-ki,” meaning “gracious gift.” As the story of The Drawn Bow was unfolding, it seems Mrs. Bowman was in line to receive her own gracious gift.

The Old Timer and Louise Bowman continued on to Seattle. The Old Timer wired ahead to the consulate in Japan and requested additional details about the identity of Takashi Yamato. Mrs. Bowman and the Old Timer arrived in Seattle and made their way to the Great Northern Docks at Smith Cove (located adjacent to today’s Piers 90 and 91), still awaiting word back from Japan. Mrs. Bowman was getting more anxious by the minute. Just before the ship was set to sail, a cable arrived for the Old Timer.

VOICE:                 Are you the Old Timer? A cable for you sir.

OLD TIMER:        Didn’t I tell you. Listen… “Baby found morning of July fourteenth, nineteen-hundred-fourteen. Was wearing dark blue sweater suit with white bands.”

MRS. B:                It is Franklin! Now I know it is. Oh, thank God!

As their ship pulled out from Smith Cove and into Puget Sound on its way to the open waters of the Pacific Ocean, Mrs. Bowman spotted another large ship and this set the Old Timer to representing the interests of the Great Northern Railway as only he could.

MRS. B:                Oh, look here comes another boat.

OLD TIMER:        That’s one of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha line. Probably loaded with silk from Japan. There’s a romance for you. That silk is bound for New York. From the boat the cargo goes direct into express cars… a whole train of ‘em. Once she’s loaded the Great Northern gives it a clear track right straight to New York City… fastest express trains on the line… and there you have the meeting of the East and West… New York is West to Japan, you know, even if it’s east on the map!  (LAUGHS)  Funny, isn’t it?

MRS. B:                I suppose it is, but I can only think of one thing just now. I’m going to my boy!

This “word from our sponsor” seems a bit forced, but at least the fictional Mrs. B recognized it was time to get on with the story. At this point the continuity called for the dialog to “fade into Japanese music, then into the aria from Butterfly which Suisan is singing sadly.” This YouTube clip is certainly not from the Empire Builders broadcast, but if you’re interested, it’s a nice example of a Japanese soprano performing the Madame Butterfly aria: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkUq98oiyRc

With the musical transition, the scene shifted again to Takashi and Suisan, who was sobbing over the thought of losing Takashi to his real mother, and to his real people. Takashi tried to console her and to convince her he would always love her. He promised he would return to her just as soon as possible. The only mother either of them knew, Sakura Yamato, came to them with a request.

SAKURA:              Takashi, my son, your mother and the Old Timer are coming soon. I wish to speak with them alone for a few minutes. Go out in the garden with Suisan, my child.

TAKASHI:             Oh, mother Sakura, don’t make me go! I love you both so much! Please send her away!

SAKURA:              My son, your duty lies with the mother who has grieved for you these many years. You will be very happy with her. The hurts of youth are soon healed. It is only the old who do not forget. Go now. I hear them coming…

And so Takashi and Suisan left Sakura, and the Old Timer arrived with Mrs. Bowman. This was an awkward moment.

SAKURA:              My house is yours, Mrs. Bowman. I welcome you to it… Yes, you are his mother. He looks so much like you. Your heart has been empty for many years. Now it shall be full again and mine shall feel a void. I must give up the son I love to you who have a greater right. I have had much joy in him. His going will be hard, but I can bear it. But my heart is stricken for my daughter Suisan. She loves him. And he loves her. It will be hard for them.

MRS. B:                I did not know. My boy is very young to think of love.

SAKURA:              Their love is of long standing. It is very deep. I do not know…

MRS. B:                I am so sorry to give you pain, Mrs. Yamato. And your daughter, too. I know the feel of pain. I would not willingly impose it on another. If my son really loves your daughter I will put no obstacles in his way. I only ask that he may come with me until he is of age. Then if he wishes to return, he will be free to do so.

SAKURA:              So be it. I will call him.

MRS. B:                What a remarkable woman. My boy has been lucky.

Sakura Yamato left to retrieve Takashi, and painfully do what she knew was right and turn him over to his birth mother.

SAKURA:              (RETURNING)  Mrs. Bowman, this is your son.

MRS. B:                Franklin! My boy! My baby! My little baby! Franklin, I am your mother. Come to me.

TAKASHI:             Are you going to take me away?

MRS. B:                Only for a time, my dear. If you wish to come back in two years, you may.

TAKASHI:             Two years! Oh, I can’t go! Mother Sakura, don’t make me go!

SAKURA:              You will be very happy, Takashi.

TAKASHI:             I can never be happy without Suisan. This lady says she is my mother. If she is my mother and loves me she will let me stay and marry Suisan.

MRS. B:                You are too young to marry now, my dear. First you must come home and learn how to take care of Suisan. When you have proved you can do that, you may marry her if you still wish it.

TAKASHI:             You promise that?

MRS. B:                I do. But first you must finish your education, take your rightful place.

TAKASHI:             Suisan, do you hear? She says I may come back! Everything will be all right! Will you wait for me?

Takashi and Suisan felt they were being wrenched apart, and Suisan could not believe Takashi would remain true to her and return. Sakura Yamato and Louise Bowman continued to express their mutual emotions about not wanting to cause or continue the pain of loving and losing the fine young man who was, to each of them, their son. Finally, though, it was time to leave.

TAKASHI:             Don’t cry, Suisan. After all two years isn’t very long. Then I’ll come back and we’ll be married.

MRS. B:                Of course you will. But we must go now. Mrs. Yamato, my heart is too full to find words to thank you for what you have done… but please believe me, I would not give you greater pain if I could help it. I – I thank you and God bless you. Goodbye.

SAKURA:              Your happiness thanks me, Mrs. Bowman. May you be happy.

TAKASHI:             Suisan! My darling!

SUISAN:               Takashi! Oh, farewell, my dearest, farewell.  (SOBS)

By now I think we all have a pretty good idea about how the Old Timer responds to situations like this: probably with some kind of upbeat conciliatory or reassuring wisdom. He might simply make an “aw, shucks” remark and quietly back his way out of the room. Or then, of course, there is the chance he will pipe up with another helpful word from our sponsor.

OLD TIMER:        Hey! Hey there! You’ll have me crying like a baby in a minute. This isn’t a funeral. Why you won’t be so far apart! Not with the fastest trains Great Northern has to link you to the fastest boats! Why, you’ll be back in no time. Come along now, come along!

There now, everyone just relax and let the Great Northern Railway provide the answer to your problems. Nevertheless, this is a romantic tragedy, and we can’t just solve this thing by passing around travel brochures and timetables. The closing lines of the story almost suggested the author was already working on a sequel . . .

(CHORUS OF GOODBYES FADING OUT THEN A PAUSE BROKEN BY SUISAN’S SOBS)

SAKURA:              Courage, my daughter. Remember you are the daughter of the Samurai. Grief lightens with the passing days. Perhaps he will come back.

SUISAN:               No mother, he is gone forever

(THROUGH HER TEARS SHE BEGINS TO SING THE BUTTERFLY ARIA AS THE MUSIC FADES OUT)

(FADE MUSIC FOR CLOSING ANNOUNCEMENT)

The program closed with announcer John S. Young’s assurance that the audience had been listening to Empire Builders, brought to you by the Great Northern Railway from the studios of the National Broadcasting Company in New York City. These facts did little to console the troubled listeners who longed to know what would become of Takashi and his sweetheart Suisan.

If the Empire Builders radio series had remained on the air for, say, another 12 to 15 years, I have to wonder if a sequel ("The Loosed Arrow" perhaps) could have been written for this program, and how the story line would have run. Let’s say Suisan remains in Tokyo, longing for Takashi to return to her. In the meantime, Takashi (now known in the states as “Frank”) completes his education and gets a job in Seattle. He takes a ship of the Dollar Line or NYK and returns to Japan to be reunited with his beloved Suisan. With her mother’s blessing (and more tears), Suisan and Frank Bowman are married and sail back to Seattle to start a family. With two youngsters making the proverbial pitter patter of little feet in the home of the young couple, some rather nasty business suddenly occurs on the morning of December 7, 1941. Within only a few months, officials arrive at the Bowman home in Seattle and take Suisan and her wee children away, to be interned at the Minidoka Relocation Center in Idaho. Frank would not see his family again for three years. He might even be drafted, and serve at Leyte Gulf, Guadalcanal, or Iwo Jima.

Then again, the story might have run another course altogether, with Frank returning to Suisan and his former life as Takashi Yamato. Perhaps as Takashi Yamato, a decorated Zero pilot who dropped torpedoes in Pearl Harbor and helped sink the USS Arizona (I made that up). Ironically, the real-life Japanese battleship Yamato served as the flagship of the Japanese Combined Fleet, and in June of 1942 Admiral Yamamoto directed the fleet from her bridge during the Battle of Midway (I did not make that up).

Life, in its own way, can sometimes be stranger than fiction.