Post Contributed by Lena (Sunada-Matsumura) Newlin 

When I was in high school, my grandmother gave me a book. As a teenager, I was more interested in fashion magazines and rock music than books, but this gift was special. It had a black and white drawing on the cover, of two boys, untangling a kite from barbed wire fencing. And on the back, a picture of the author–a woman–stoic, gazing into the distance, her blonde hair blowing slightly in the wind. I recall being captivated by the book’s content–pages full of black and white sketches and words that read like poetry. The book was titled Lone Heart Mountain, and the author was Estelle Ishigo, an artist, and one of the few white women incarcerated at Heart Mountain during WWII. It was her memoir, but so much more. 

I don’t remember any conversation my grandmother and I may have had about the book. I just remember the black and white sketches of rickety wooden barracks, of snow blowing sideways, of families eating in mess halls, and guard towers with guns pointing inside the barbed wire camp. With pencil and charcoal, Estelle’s drawings narrated her life at Heart Mountain. But they also told the story of my own family, and of many others. 

I am a descendant of Japanese Americans incarcerated at Heart Mountain during WWII. My great grandparents and great aunts and uncles spent three years living behind barbed wire, alongside Estelle Ishigo. They owned a grocery store in Hollywood, California. My great grandmother took care of the fruits and vegetables, and my great grandfather was the meat butcher. After Pearl Harbor was bombed, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, authorizing the forced removal of all persons of Japanese ancestry from the West coast. My family, along with more than 125,000 people, ⅔ of whom were American citizens, were incarcerated. Their only crime was their Japanese heritage.

My family and so many others lost everything during this time–their savings, their property, family heirlooms, their sense of security, and their freedom. Estelle’s artwork poignantly narrates life behind barbed wire, and can be seen in the archives at the American Heritage Center. Recently, I spent time examining Estelle’s work at the AHC and learning more about her unique and tragic story. 

Born in Oakland, California in 1899, Estelle (née Peck) Ishigo had a lonely and sad childhood. She was the only daughter of a concert singer and a landscape painter, who mostly left her in the care of relatives. She began painting and playing the violin at a young age, and after high school, attended the Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles. During this time she met Arthur Ishigo, a handsome and aspiring movie actor, and it wasn’t long before the two were madly in love. They enjoyed going camping in the mountains outside of the city where Estelle would paint and Arthur would fish. When they decided to be married, California’s anti-miscegenation laws prohibited it, because Estelle was white and Arthur was Japanese American. Undeterred, they drove to Mexico where interracial marriage was not criminalized. 

But life was hard for the newlyweds, as they faced ongoing discrimination. Estelle’s family disowned her, and steady work was hard to find. They scraped by with Arthur working as a janitor and Estelle working at a drug store and soda fountain. After Pearl Harbor was bombed, Estelle and Arthur were fired, and as a Japanese American, Arthur was subject to removal under Executive Order 9066. Estelle couldn’t imagine being separated from her husband, so she petitioned the US Army to allow her to accompany him. This would mean giving up her freedom; she saw no other option. Estelle and Arthur were sent first to Pomona Assembly Center and then to Heart Mountain, in northern Wyoming. All along the way, Estelle carried with her a pencil and paper; she documented life behind barbed wire through art. She also became involved in camp life, playing violin in a band, teaching violin to other incarcerees, and working officially as the camp’s documentary artist. Estelle later admitted that ironically, living among Japanese Americans at Heart Mountain was the first time in her life that she felt accepted. 

When the war ended and Heart Mountain closed, the US government gave incarcerees $25 and a one-way bus ticket. Estelle and Arthur returned to California. But they had lost everything when they went to camp and still encountered prejudice and discrimination. They lived first in old military barracks with other Japanese Americans, and later moved to a trailer camp. The dirt ground turned into lakes of mud when it rained and many trailers didn’t have electricity, running water, or bathrooms; it was eventually condemned by the Health Department. The barbed wire fences from camp were gone, but they could not escape the bad conditions. Estelle continued to draw these stories. For Arthur, being incarcerated and losing everything was devastating; his spirit had been broken. Arthur died after a brief battle with cancer at age 55 in 1957 and left Estelle brokenhearted. 

In 1972 Estelle’s artwork of Japanese American incarceration was part of a traveling exhibit sponsored by the California Historical Society. She received honors from the Japanese American Citizen’s League for her contributions to the Japanese American community. That same year, she received support to publish her book, Lone Heart Mountain. Finally, she was getting recognition for her work. 

But life never got easier for Estelle. In her later years, without Arthur or other family, Estelle seemed to disappear. Little is known about her during this time. Eventually, a friend from Heart Mountain found Estelle living in squalor. Destitute and very sick, he helped her receive medical care and safe housing. Estelle passed away February 25, 1990 in California, and in 1999, per her final request, former Heart Mountain incarcerees released her ashes at the top of Heart Mountain. 

I still have Estelle’s book that my grandmother gave me more than thirty years ago. Its black cover is faded; its binding is fragile; and the pages are soft. I’m still captivated by the drawings–evidence of a shameful chapter in American history that my own family survived. I’m grateful for the legacy Estelle left, by sharing her life, and the life of Japanese Americans at Heart Mountain with us all, through art. 

Learn more about Estelle Ishigo and Japanese American incarceration: 

1. Estelle Ishigo Photographs, Collection No. 10368, Box 1, Folders 1-4, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming. 
2. Days of Waiting: The Life and Art of Estelle Ishigo. Dir. Steven Okazaki. 28 min. Farallon Films, 1990. 
3. Ishigo, Estelle. Lone Heart Mountain. Los Angeles: Japanese American Citizens League, Hollywood Chapter, 1972. Los Angeles: Heart Mountain High School Class of 1947, 1989. Lone Heart Mountain. 
4. Estelle Ishigo’s entry on Densho Encyclopedia
5. Densho, a digital archive and public history organization whose mission is to preserve and share history of the World War II incarceration of Japanese Americans
6. Campu, a podcast about Japanese American incarceration
7. Heart Mountain
8. Japanese American National Museum