It has been more than two years since the ceremony on September 24, 2022, solemnized JANM’s historic installation of the Ireichō, the sacred book memorializing the names of more than 125,000 people of Japanese ancestry forcibly detained in approximately 75 WWII detention sites. The book has served as a living monument and first of its kind to chronologically honor the name of each confined individual—from the oldest (Yaeichi Ota, a 92-year-old widower from Fresno who died at the Rohwer camp) to the youngest (Paul Masashi Masumoto, a baby born at the Crystal City Family Internment Camp).
On December 1, 2024, the slightly time-worn book was carefully packed in a traveling suitcase after its final day of its initial residency at JANM. It now bore much more than 125,284 names, but also small stamps (or hanko) placed on 81,485 names by approximately 30,000 people who had come to make these special marks on their own names, on those of their family members and friends, and on people they didn’t even know. With those stamps came thousands of stories connecting these visitors to their pasts, to their ancestors (some for the first time), and to America’s own turbulent history.
With the closing of the Pavilion in January 2025, the book is slated to travel to various sites, beginning from February 18-21 at the National Archives and National Museum of American History (NMAH) in Washington D.C., then traveling to 12 former confinement sites (see schedule) with the possibility of several additional cities, before returning to JANM for the reopening of the Pavilion in 2026. Even though roughly two-thirds of the total number of detainees’ names now bear stamps, it is hoped that every one of the more than 125,000 names will eventually be stamped as people around the country are given another opportunity to honor each and every former detainee.
It should come as no surprise that the initial list of 125,284 names required meticulous scrutiny to ensure each former incarceree’s name was included, non-duplicative, and correctly spelled. Since its inception, the Ireichō’s project director Duncan Ryuken Williams has spoken about the reparative process the book embodies. Visitors were asked to not only place a hanko on each individual name but also to help correct any errors that were an inevitable part of such a massive record-keeping process. Misspellings, duplications, and additions were only some of the corrections that the Ireichō staff and volunteers addressed. As a result, three addendums of an additional 905 names were generated to augment the original book. The team strove long and hard to rectify these issues to ensure that this history will continue to be recorded faithfully and accurately.
As examples of some of the obstacles the team encountered, Williams describes 300 duplicate names discovered partly because some were using an alias on one occasion or an alternate name on another. The Ireichō project specialist Karen Kano, who was involved in the arduous verification process, explained that many of the additions came from extensive work by the research team of Susan Kamei and Julie Abo to hunt for people who did not go from the so-called temporary “assembly centers” to War Relocation Center (WRA) camps.
They used lists of people sent out for sweet potato or sugar beet farming as well as “daily population reports” that mentioned individuals who left for schooling, death, marriage, or because they were of mixed heritage. They also found “internee data cards” that included individuals arrested by the FBI and others held in non-WRA detention centers.
Visitors themselves often provided critical information that uncovered new information about their families that was previously unclear or unknown to them. According to Kano, one such story resulted from a detainee who remarried, and as a result the person her children thought was their father was really their stepfather.
In another case, a man searched for his father’s name in the Ireichō and didn’t find it. He appealed to the project team and with the help of Densho’s content director Brian Niiya, he discovered his father had been adopted while in camp and thus changed his name. This discovery led the way for dialogue between father and son that might not have occurred had it not been for the Ireichō.
Kano also describes another amazing unearthing that involved a previously obscure story of a group of people held in detention in Florida. It started when she was told by a visitor that her father’s family was held in their Florida home under “house arrest” by gunpoint by a German American soldier assigned to guard them. After checking the historical accuracy of this account and receiving the final requisite and stringent approval of project director Duncan Williams, approximately 29 additional names held under similar circumstances were added to the Ireichō, thanks in large part to the assistance of Willitte Hisami Herman, a self-taught genealogist from Oregon.
Williams defined the special criteria used for names as any person incarcerated for more than one day. Striving to make certain no one was left out, the core team of Williams, Kano and fellow team member Yukari Swanson worked long hours but also provided the driving force behind its authenticity. Williams admits, “It's true that I just don't think I've ever had a day where I haven't spent many, many hours seeking 99.9 percent accuracy.” Kano, also a full-time mother, not only greeted back-to-back visitors at JANM, but also spent several “overnighters” cramming to verify a new addendum of names.
Williams continues, “I know why no one attempted to create such a list and if I thought about it too much, I’d even say it's too ambitious and preposterous a project.” However, he recalls the rewards that come with having undertaken it. “I've noticed the impact it has had on families being able to acknowledge this history. For example, using the stamping process to look up grandma's birth year, people may have to do a little bit of research that initiates conversation and telling of story and passing on to a younger group of people within the family. That kind of impact is hard to quantify.”
Indeed, the emotional effects that the Ireichō has had on visitors goes far beyond the stamp on a page. Williams recalls a story of a camp survivor who took him aside at the Crystal City Pilgrimage. Having just lost his wife, the man thanked him for giving him the opportunity to pay tribute to her by stamping her name in the Ireichō. The man spoke of his tears after seeing his wife’s name in simple letters across the page. Suddenly, he couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to kiss her name. Having been instructed not to handle the book except to leave a stamp, he was apologetic as he expressed how deeply he was moved by seeing her name.
Williams was pleased to honor the significance of this kiss by recognizing, “That act has now become part of the history of this book and a recording of the aftermath of the World War II experience itself.” Williams acknowledged that when people shed tears or offer kisses, they are giving the Ireichō more value and significance to something that began purely as a book of names.
As the Ireichō begins its journey to other sites throughout the country, it is hoped that the sacred book will touch more lives in equally meaningful ways. As Williams and Kano accompany the book on its travels while guarding it with utmost care, the Ireichō will have its own seat on airplanes that carry it to places where more stories are bound to unfold. Appropriately, the sacred book has clearly taken on a life (and lives) of its own.
© 2025 Sharon Yamato
