TOKYO ROSE
G'day folks,
Tokyo Rose was a generic name given by Allied troops in the South
Pacific during World War II to what they believed were multiple
English-speaking female broadcasters of Japanese propaganda. The
next time you feel you just can't get a break in life, consider Iva Toguri
D'Aquino, better known as "Tokyo Rose"...
Sixty-five
years ago today on October 6, 1949, Iva Toguri D'Aquino
became the seventh person in the history of the United States to be
charged with treason. At the time her 13-week trial was the most expensive and
longest trial ever recorded, totaling around $750,000 (by today's standards,
over $5 million).
Despite
being charged on eight counts of treason, D'Aquino ended up being convicted of
one, the crime being that the radio broadcaster spoke "into a microphone
concerning the loss of ships." With anti-Japanese sentiments still raw
post-Pearl Harbor, U.S. authorities were hungry for retribution, and they found
Japanese-American D'Aquino an easy target, accusing her of spreading
anti-American propaganda on a Japanese radio station.
But
before she was legally married in a San Francisco courthouse in 1949 — slapped
with a $10,000 fine, a 10-year prison sentence, and stripped of her U.S.
citizenship — D'Aquino had already suffered a great many hardships...all
because she had a Japanese face and was in the wrong place at the wrong
time.
Ironically,
D'Aquino was as American as one could be. Born on Independence Day in 1916 in
Los Angeles, she was raised in a middle-class household that spoke strictly
English. Her father and mother embraced assimilation and offered their daughter
a normal life; D'Aquino enjoyed going to church, was a popular student at
school, loved swing music, and took tennis and piano lessons. In 1941, she
graduated from UCLA with a degree in zoology.
D'Aquino
wasn't the only "Tokyo Rose" − a term coined by South Pacific Allied
troops, which referred to any English-speaking female broadcaster accused of
spreading Japanese propaganda − but she was the most punished, among the dozen
or so women who were given the label.
Here
are five unfortunate life events that would seal her fate as the most notorious
"Tokyo Rose."
1)
Visiting her extended family in Japan to attend to a sick aunt, D'Aquino was
denied re-entry into the U.S. once the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December
7, 1941.
2)
Refusing to renounce her U.S. citizenship, D'Aquino was labeled an enemy of Japan
and was unable to receive a food ration card. Angered by her pro-American
sentiments, her extended family banished her from their home.
3) In need of work, she
eventually decided to become a radio broadcaster on a Japanese station show
called the "Zero Hour." With her gravelly voice, she and her fellow
expat co-broadcaster decided to mock the pro-Japanese propaganda-filled
program. (Thankfully for their sake, the Japanese did not pick up on their
nuanced sarcasm. . .but unfortunately, the U.S. didn't, either.)
4)
By 1945 WWII was over, but the post-war battered economy compelled D'Aquino,
who was still stranded in Japan, to take a chance and claim herself as the one
and only "Tokyo Rose" — this, after a Cosmopolitan writer offered her $2,000 to share
her story. Little did she know, she was tricked, and her story was interpreted
as a confession. She was arrested, and U.S. authorities threw her into a Tokyo
jail before she stood trial in America.
5)
So what were the damning words that had a U.S. jury convict her of treason? She
allegedly said in a 1944 broadcast on the "Zero Hour": "Orphans
of the Pacific, you are really orphans now. How will you get home now that your
ships are sunk?"
D'Aquino was released from prison after
serving six years out of her 10-year sentence. Almost 40 years old, she had to
find the strength to move on from her misfortunes, which included: losing about
a decade of her life living on foreign soil; not being able to see her mother
before she passed; losing her baby soon after giving birth, and eventually
(albeit reluctantly) divorcing her Portuguese husband who was forced to never
step foot on American soil.
After it was
discovered that the witnesses who offered the most damaging testimony against
D'Aquino were pressured to lie under oath, President Gerald
Ford pardoned her in 1977. With her citizenship restored, she was
allowed to be an American again.
Living
quietly in Chicago, D'Aquino had wished her father could have lived to see the
day of her pardon (he had died four years earlier in 1973). Still, she was
proud to share what he had said to her about her harrowing journey: "You
were like a tiger, you never changed your stripes, you stayed American through and
through."
Clancy's comment: I wonder how many modern kids would know anything about this. Very few I guess.
I'm ...
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