For my next-to-last column of 2024, let me tie up a few loose ends.
Not all the loose ends. A few stories promised here remain to be told: about the years when the statue of Juan Bautista de Anza in Riverside was routinely vandalized, about the Moss twins who were befriended in Riverside by Joan Crawford and about songs that mention Inland Empire cities. Look for those in January — I hope.
Behind barbed wire
I wrote here Oct. 25 about visiting the Japanese American National Museum in L.A.’s Little Tokyo and admiring its exhibit of art made in World War II internment camps, “Contested Histories: Preserving and Sharing a Community Collection.”
In particular, Estelle Ishigo‘s paintings of the Heart Mountain, Wyoming, camp were cited, as was her personal story. Married to Arthur Ishigo, a Japanese American man whom she’d met at the Otis Art Institute, the White woman volunteered to be incarcerated with him for the duration of the war rather than be parted from her husband of 14 years.
Nobody had done anything wrong. But after Pearl Harbor, the president issued an order that all Japanese Americans would be rounded up and detained for the duration of the war — a blot on our national character.
For those of us east of L.A., there turns out to be a local angle to the Ishigo story.
The couple’s first stop was at the Pomona Assembly Center, where Southern Californians were held until camps could be built around the West. The center occupied part of the Pomona fairgrounds.
While the fairgrounds were “celebrated as a place for fairs and carnivals,” Ishigo noted in her 1972 memoir, “Lone Heart Mountain,” the view that greeted the internees was far different.
“The first sight of the barbed wire enclosure with armed soldiers standing guard as our bus slowly turned in through the gate stunned us with the reality of this forced evacuation,” Ishigo wrote. “Here was a camp of sheds, enclosed within a high barbed wire fence, with guard towers and soldiers with machine guns.”
Within a few weeks, 5,622 people were living at the dusty fairgrounds. Ishigo described the poor conditions and indignities, such as open latrines, as well as talent shows and baseball. Most tried to make the best of having had their civil rights taken away from them.
In August 1942, the center shut down as internees were sent to larger camps around the West. After Heart Mountain, the Ishigos, who like most internees had lost everything, returned to L.A. and lived in poverty. Arthur died of cancer in 1957 and Estelle survived until 1990.
Some 120 examples of her art are in the collection of the Japanese American National Museum and can be viewed online.
Incidentally, the popular museum is about to close for a renovation expected to last two years. Its last day is Jan. 5.
Graber art
The open house at Bill Graber’s former property in Upland, where he’d left behind hundreds of his abstract sculptures, all neatly catalogued, was previewed here Dec. 4. How did that go?
More than 150 people visited and nearly 100 pieces sold, according to Juan Thorp, the artist who was handling the sales. “A lot of people mentioned your story from all over the IE,” Thorp added. Nice to hear.
Thorp took 30 pieces for a show at his Space Truckin gallery in Yucca Valley in January. The Chaffey Community Museum of Art likewise claimed 30 for a show in February. And the Maloof Foundation picked up a large outdoor sculpture for its garden.
“Untitled Gallery in Ontario will be taking all the art remaining for future shows and storage,” Thorp said. That accounts for everything. So much for Graber’s jokes about his work ending up in a landfill.
More Graber
On a related note, Graber’s East 8th Street driveway has a place in Upland police lore.
According to Jim Watson, who is retired from the department, the driveway was once screened from the street by a thick stand of trees, since removed. Watson and others in the Upland traffic unit called it “The Batcave,” a nod to the brush-covered cave out of which Batman drove the Batmobile in the 1960s TV show.
“Myself along with officers Mendoza, Kumlander, Sellers, Gutierrez, Todd and Phillips would sit on our motorcycles at the entrance of the ‘Batcave’ (not all at the same time of course), and look for speed violations,” said Watson.
It was apparently quite effective as a staging area.
“Residents would frequently stop and thank us for being there, but not the speeding violators who didn’t notice us until it was too late,” Watson said. “It was also an area for several very successful DUI checkpoints.”
Batman would have been proud of his fellow crimefighters — especially if they caught any drivers who weren’t wearing lap belts. (It was one of his pet peeves.)
Looking ahead
What are you most looking forward to in 2025? Email me at dallen@scng.com with your response, your name and your city of residence, please, by Dec. 30. I may use your replies in my New Year’s Day column.
The Forgettable Four
A Corona reader shared here Dec. 15 that he’d once gone to a Paul McCartney concert with a date who wondered why McCartney was playing so many Beatles songs.
That sparked a related memory in Christina Torres of Moreno Valley.
“Years ago I had won tickets to see one of the premier Beatles tribute bands, and not knowing who to take, one of my co-workers wanted to go with me,” Torres says.
The concert was very enjoyable, until her co-worker turned to her to ask, “Which one is supposed to be Ringo?”
Uh, the one playing the drums?
“Nothing against her personally,” Torres says, “but I never did anything with her again.”
David Allen acts naturally Friday, Sunday and Wednesday. Email dallen@scng.com, phone 909-483-9339, like davidallencolumnist on Facebook and follow @davidallen909 on X.