RANGE OF LIGHT

Standing on the vast whiteness leading to "Shangri-la" the hero gazed with infinite longing on the immense area where his heart would find the peace so intensely sought by men of all races. Somehow the towering peaks gave spiritual inspiration to a troubled heart.

This scene in the motion picture "Lost Horizon" produced a few years ago in the vicinity of Manzanar and beneath the lofty domes of the High Sierras, made a lasting impression on our memories and is stored away with hopes for a better world.

Amber-colored in the evening sunset, sparkling in the morning sunlight, the Sierra Nevada range was appropriately named the "Range of Light" by John Muir, early pioneer of nature. Here, isolated from the war-torn world through unprecedented circumstances, we live our daily lives.

With the inspiration gained by daily gazings at the granite highlands and ascending peaks, the adverse problems of a minority group seem to infinitesimal for comparison with the highest mountain, Mount Whitney.

WHEN THIS IS OVER

After all this is over, when Manzanar is nothing more than a dim memory. In the cycle of one's life, the High Sierras will be remembered with fond dreams and not with cynicism or bitterness.

WHAT IS MANZANAR?

Manzanar? The name itself bearing imprints of early Spanish settlers, conjures a sonorous and rolling sound. A veritable city epitomized by apple blossoms in spring and its fruit in autumn; product of gnarled trees which once formed a part of lush orchards and later withstood droughts which killed off the rest of the trees. A city situated in the rugged Owens Valley, bordered on three sides by mountain ranges—the Inyo range to the east, Alabama Hills to the south and the ever-majestic Sierras to the west.

Manzanar is a city peopled mostly with evacuees from Southern California. The first assembly center to be erected by the Wartime Civil Control Administration it was adopted as the first project of the War Relocation Authority which subsequently sired nine other similar centers. Manzanar thus claims distinction of being the eldest in the WRA family of projects.

Having existed here for a year and more, the ordinary events familiar to any community of similar size have occurred; births, courtings, marriages and deaths, quarrels and reconciliations, doubts and confirmations.

But Manzanar is more than this. It represents a temporary but valid wartime way of life for nearly 8,500 men, women and children. If our way of life here is radically different from that prior to evacuation, so have the ways of lives of countless others all over America and the rest of the world been altered—or totally destroyed.

METAMORPHOSIS OF MANZANAR

Predominant theme of this pictorial edition of the Manzanar Free Press is the illustrative description of life in Manzanar through pictures and explanations.

The city of Manzanar sprang up almost overnight in the middle of a desert in the hour of pressing emergency and war borne confusion for the evacuees. Ten thousand people uprooted from their homes amid confusion frankly foresaw no release from uncertainties here. But lo, in the period of one year, visible signs of order pattern of community life emerged. But loads of evacuees moved in and occupied successive blocks of barracks completed figuratively moments before their arrival. Within a few weeks, the whole camp was occupied. Within the limits of facilities provided, an abbreviated home-like atmosphere was created. Sage-brushes were cleared away and lawns and trees were planted. Gardens sprang up. Children began to attend school. A myriad of social and athletic events occupied the attention of most residents after working hours.

Almost half of the populace, leaving the aged and the sick and the young, have found gainful work—in the fields, in manual arts and offices; depending upon their talents. Yes, Manzanar has found its groove.

FOURTH ESTATE

Until its overthrow by the Revolution, the French legislative body was known as the Estate General. This body was composed of representatives of the "Three Estates;" the first being the clergy, the second the nobility, and the third the common people.

At that time when journalism placed most of its emphasis on political discussions, the reporters of all the newspapers would jam the galleries of the English Parliament, and in their respective publications would propound their own views and ideas of the political developments.

Edmund Burke, the statesman-philosopher, is credited with having said in speaking of the Reporter's Gallery in the House of Commons, "Yonder sits the Fourth Estate; more important than all the others."

That oratory was meant to carry ridicule of the press but the Fourth Estate has risen in importance equal to the other three.

In Appreciation

In editing and publishing this edition, the Free Press staff has received valuable cooperation and help from various individuals and organizations. We thank the following persons and groups for their unselfish assistance in making this pictorial issue a long remembered (we hope) edition of the Manaznar Free Press:

Todd Watkins and the Chalfant Press staff in Lone Pine. Bob Toyama for his cartoon cuts. Toyo Hiyatake and the Co-op Photo Shop. Kotobuki Oku, chief cook and the kitchen No. 1 crew. Consumer Enterprises staff. Gen Nakamura of Public Works for the use of his drawing board. Churches for the use of their pictures. Tamotsu Noda and Yukio Kozawa of the Motor Pool. George Ono of the garage. Jack Hirose for his lettering on the cover page. Town Hall, the block managers and assistants for taking subscriptions. Kameichi Kawakami, the Free Press building custodian. Francis Stewart for pictures. And to the residents for patiently (?) awaiting the arrival of this issue.

Evening In Manzanar

As the last rays of the setting sun cast a shadow on the high mountains, the many different hues on the tinted sky blend into the verdure of the green grass. The shadows get more dense as time draws on, and the faint whisper of the leaves in the trees aguments. But the leaves tell a different tale tonight. They relate the story, taciturn, and do not speak above a whisper.

However, what started out to be a tale, finally resulted in an open forum. The crickets voiced their opinions with chirps here and there. Although he was slightly late in appearing, Mr. Moon made his grand entrance. Occasionally, he nodded to his acquaintances and tried desperately to get a clear view through the intricate coiffure of Miss Cloud. But who is this person who has everyone in a turmoil? He starts out by shaking the main speaker, Mr. Tree, good and hard 'til he fails to utter another word. Then he lunges at the congregation of crickets, which were so happily chirping before, and makes them dash for the nearest shelter.

Tonight, as always, the villain dashes aimlessly through the trees, skies, mountains and the community. Will there ever be a really peaceful evening here in Manzanar without the discord of the wind howling? I doubt it.