From 1949 to 1951, my family lived in Tokyo, Japan. Dad was in the Air Force, a fighter pilot assigned to the Fifth Air Force.
We were there when North Korea attacked the south and the Korean War broke out. Dad flew regular combat missions until he, and we, rotated home in 1951.
Not that we knew much about his day job. Dad went to work in the morning, put in a day’s work — air training, ground training, combat missions in an F-86F when scheduled — and came home for supper. All very comfortable and civilized.
So, even though Dad was in a shooting war, life for the family was quite normal. Lee and I had our friends, school as usual, and, living in Tokyo, plenty of fascinating things to see and do.
We lived in Washington Heights, a housing project for U.S. military officers and their families. Washington Heights stood in a corner of Yoyogi Park, Tokyo’s version of Central Park. The project was new, having been built after World War II as part of the Allied occupation of Japan.
Our apartment buildings were at the edge of the base. Beyond our buildings, a 10-foot-high stone wall dropped to an ordinary city street, where the locals went about their daily business.
We kids often sat at the top of the wall and watched the activity. It was a busy street, filled with what you would picture in a Japanese town five-plus decades ago: people on foot in native attire, an occasional ox-drawn cart, men with yokes transporting buckets of water and goods.
Japan in those days was primitive. Most people, even in the suburbs, had neither plumbing nor electricity. Large parts of Tokyo had pavement and high-rise buildings, but many of the streets were dirt or cobblestone.
When nature called and a person was away from home, it was the custom to step to the side of the road, stand or squat as appropriate, and execute one’s business.
I was age six when we arrived in Japan, age eight when we left. Accordingly, public urination, which occurred regularly at the bottom of our stone wall in plain sight, was a source of great interest and entertainment to me and my peers.
One day, several of us peers were surveying Tokyo from our high vantage point, when a Japanese man walked up to the base of the wall below us. He looked up at us briefly, expression blank, then proceeded with his task.
Someone in our group stood up. A golf-ball-size rock was dislodged. It fell the several intervening feet, and with an audible bonk, bounced off the man’s head.
The man howled, and both hands shot to his head for protection. He shuddered in pain for a couple of seconds, then looked up at us, eyes ablaze.
He shouted at us — in Japanese, of course. He shook his fist at us, shouting continually.
Then, still shouting, he buttoned up and began to climb the stone wall. My friends and I screamed, turned, and ran like hell.
A half-dozen screaming children quickly attracted attention, and by the time the man reached the top of the wall, he was met by two white-helmeted Japanese guards assigned to base security.
From the porch of a nearby apartment building, we watched as the guards endeavored to calm the angry man.
After a few more minutes of indignant ranting, his rage subsided. Still muttering, he walked slowly back to the wall, a guard on each side.
He climbed back down to the street and returned to his life below.
Members of the Washington Heights gang, including me (left), my brother Lee (center), and Lee’s BFF Donnie Paul (right).
Loved reading your blog on Washington Heights… Lived there 1956-1960. I saw a picture somewhere on the internet… the concrete eagle that was in front of the officer’s club (that us kids were always being chased off of by the PMs)… supposedly, it’s still there??
My father was a captain in the AF. First two years there, we lived off base – Fuchu Air base. Second two years in Washington Heights. I was 3 years old on the way over and 6 on the way back.
I remember the storm pipe, but I recall it being bigger that 2 feet, but it had a metal grate covering it so you couldn’t crawl in. I just remember it being spooky looking at the bottom of a concrete chute. I remember visiting Meiji Shrine a few times and remember it as being very beautiful.
I also have fond memories of walking to the theater and watching serials with my big brother for a nickel… Rocket Man, Roy Rogers, Kit Carson, Bug Bunny cartoons, and so on.
I remember taps being played over the Base PA system at the end of the day and cars would pull over and the officers or airmen getting out and saluting… I would always stand at attention and salute too. 🙂
I remember Santa Claus landing near the theater at Christmas time in an egg beater (like the ones in the show “Mash”) and we all went crazy.
I also remember Kit Carson brought in an egg beater at the theater, get swamped by all of us, I was in awe as a little kid would be… met the actor in the late seventies, Van Nuys, CA and talked with him about his trip to Japan in the late 50s… He was so thrilled that I remembered him, he gave me a bunch of autographed pictures that were taken when he was with Republic Pictures… I should dig those up and post them.
And finally, I remember our dog jackie that we found as a pup when living near Fuchu Air base. She was with us until I was seventeen years old. I still miss her.
Thank you so much for writing. Hearing from people who shared my experiences is one of the real joys of writing this blog. Also, thanks for confirming what I suspected: the big concrete monument in front of the officer’s club was an eagle.