
A Forgotten Community
A Tour of Portland's Lost Japanese American Community
An Introduction
In the early 1900s, Japanese immigrants started settling into a gritty, industrial corner of NW Portland, Oregon streets around the train station. Local laws and racist sentiments of the time made it difficult to find housing anywhere else. Within a few years, those eight or so blocks were filling up with Japanese-owned shops, restaurants, hotels and services. It became known as Japantown—Nihonmachi, in Japanese—a hub for the growing population to find work and community as they navigated an unfamiliar new culture. Then, Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941. Soon after, Executive Order 9066 authorized the imprisonment of all persons of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast in American concentration camps, including citizens born in the US. Nihonmachi disappeared almost overnight and was never revived.
This map tells the stories of people and businesses that helped build Nihonmachi, some of which still exist today. But the stories gathered here represent only a snapshot of the many who lived and ran businesses in Nihonmachi. Scroll down to begin your journey through Portland’s lost Nihonmachi, use the slider on the map to see past and present views of these streets and click on an image to view full screen and read related captions.
Comparison of many of the Pre WWII Japanese American community sites vs. the remaining sites today.
The Growth of a Community
More than just people living in the same place or being from the same country, these buildings and businesses helped strengthen connections and create a sense of fellowship.
Oshu Nippo
131 NW 2nd Ave
As the only Japanese-language newspaper in the state, Oshu Nippo, or The Oregon Daily News, was an essential news source for the Japanese immigrant community. More than that, Oshu Nippo helped strengthen the community itself by highlighting perspectives of real people living and working in Nihonmachi, preserving stories and voices rarely accounted for in history books. Located on the ground floor of the Merchant Hotel—a building considered the heart of Nihonmachi—Oshu Nippo first started out as Oregon Shimpo in 1904, a private newspaper operated by major labor contractor Shinzaburo Ban that allowed him to communicate with workers placed across the state. It became a daily paper for the general public in 1909, when it was taken over by Toyoji Abe and renamed Oshu Nippo. Six years later, a fresh graduate of a Tokyo journalism school named Iwao Oyama arrived in Portland and took the position of editor, where he stayed for the next 34 years.
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The average issue would include international news, editorials debating issues like alcohol prohibition, a photo series like one from the Mt. Hood Association Photo Club and community announcements. Oshu Nippo also included poetry and playful stories like a 1922 article titled “Peculiarities and eccentricities of Ladies and Gentlemen of Portland.” At its pre-war peak, 20-30 employees worked at the paper, but it was brought to an abrupt pause following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Oyama was arrested and the printing equipment was confiscated (and never returned). As soon as the war ended and Oyama was released from his internment at the Santa Fe Department of Justice camp, he got back to business. Using a hand-cranked mimeograph machine to print issues, he relaunched the paper as Oregon Nippo in 1946—now a bilingual newspaper thanks to the new English language editor, Kimi Tambara, who became an influential civil rights activist of her time.
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Teikoku Store
136 NW 3rd Ave.
As a child growing up in Nihonmachi, George Nakata remembers the flavors and aromas of Japanese cuisine at the Teikoku Company store—the smell of pickled takuan and otsukemono; “picking up shoyu and getting mochi there for New Year’s.” He also recalls what it meant to his parents’ generation, who came to the store to stock up on the latest gossip as well as groceries. First founded in 1905 by labor contractor Mosaburo Matsushima, in 1911, he joined forces with fellow business leaders in the Japanese American community, Chotaro Niguma and Gensaku Somekawa, to form what they called the Triangular Alliance. The mercantile expanded into a multipurpose stop for postal services, money transfers to Japan and finding work on the latest railroad openings. Located on the same block as the Merchant Hotel, The Teikoku Co. served as a portal to Japanese culture and a key part of the growing community.
This creative collaboration between three of the most influential businessmen set an example for the rest of the immigrant community—that together, they could go further and see more success than on their own. Even after Matsushima’s family took over the store’s operations, the Teikoku Co. survived through relationships with other businesses in Nihonmachi. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, the family was forced to close the business and sell off all their inventory. The income from those sales were not released to the family until 1956, so when the family returned after the war, there was no money to restart their business. It was old connections in the Greek American community that came to their aid—businesses that Matsushima had supported before the war. Because “Teikoku” translates to “imperial,” they had to change it, renaming it “Anzen,” which means “safe” in Japanese. In 1968, the store moved across the river to NE Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., where it operated until 2014.
The Merchant Hotel
123 NW 2nd Ave
For a young man leaving his family’s farm for better paying work across the Pacific in the early 1900s, places like the Merchant Hotel were the closest they could have to a home in their new city. With laws prohibiting them from owning or leasing land, small hotels and lodging houses offered a place for new arrivals to lay their heads as well as a community to join for support. The Merchant Hotel, in particular, was considered the heart of Japantown at its peak, during which time it was operated by Japanese and went by the name Teikoku Hotel. It was here that young Japanese men working railroads, timber mills and fish canneries could wash their clothes at the laundry located on the same block and stock up on familiar ingredients at the Teikoku Co. mercantile on the ground floor. Dr. Ben Tanaka had offices in the building, as did Oshu Nippo—the first newspaper in the state to publish columns in English and Japanese.
When construction of the original building—designed by architect Warren Heywood Williams—first wrapped up in 1884, the 175-room hotel defined luxury in that era of Portland, drawing guests and Oregonian headlines with its electric call bells and a hydraulic elevator. The owners sold it in the late 1890s, by which time Japanese immigrants were beginning to arrive in larger numbers to the Portland area. Although they came in search of better wages, what they found was the dangerous and difficult jobs that white locals didn’t want to do, often for lower pay. Japanese workers survived and sometimes thrived against these odds—doing more with less and still accomplishing more. By 1925, about 90% of small hotels and lodging houses were operated by Japanese. The Merchant Hotel, a.k.a. Teikoku Hotel, served as an anchor for the businesses and blocks of Japantown to grow from, and it also stood as a testament to what could be achieved when the community rose above the challenges and prevailed.
Matsubu Bath & Laundry
121 NW 2nd Ave
Imagine you just worked a full week of long, hard days on a railroad or a farm, laboring under the sun and rain outside. What’s the first thing you want to do? Take a hot shower and change into clean clothes. That’s why people came to places like the Matsubu Bath & Laundry, one of 18 laundry and bath businesses operating during Nihonmachi’s most bustling peak around 1940. However, the traditional Japanese bath, or ofuro, is about much more than just getting clean. There is a rich history of bath houses in Japanese culture stretching back to the 1600s. Visitors thoroughly wash, scrub and rinse prior to getting into the warm tubs for a relaxing soak, respecting the cleanliness and calm of the deep ofuro baths. This was a place for people to unwind and soothe tired muscles, and everyone followed strict etiquette to keep the tubs pleasant for fellow bathers.
A photograph of Rokuichi Ninomura and his family from 1917 shows the pricing of $.20 for a bath and $.50 to clean and press a suit. By 1927, Shigehachi Matsubu and his wife Mary Matsubu had taken ownership of the business, with Shigehachi as barber and Mary running the laundry. Located in the same building as the Merchant Hotel—the heart of Nihonmachi—Matsubu Barber and Laundry drew both Japanese and non-Japanese customers, and both men and women via separate rooms. Guests would drop off dirty clothes and pick them up the next time they visited, sometimes opting to swing by the bath house at the same time. When they were done, they’d have fresh, clean clothes for a night on the town with friends. A century later, the Oregon Nikkei Legacy Center was located here from 2004-2021, until it moved to the corner of NW 4th and Flanders Street and was renamed the Japanese American Museum of Oregon.
Nakata Bros Store
1770 NE Columbia Blvd.
If you lived in Portland from the 1910s-1941 and wanted the freshest, ripest fruits and hardiest vegetables, you headed up to Market Row on NE Columbia Boulevard. This is where the Japanese agricultural community set up a string of produce stands for the public, around the same time Italian immigrants were establishing Produce Row in inner Southeast Portland, selling fruits and vegetables to groceries and restaurants. Many Japanese immigrants had invested their earnings to become sharecroppers, leaseholders and eventually farm owners. By 1908, they were becoming a significant part of the city’s agricultural landscape. Despite backlash from existing farmers who were threatened by the competition and demanded laws forbidding Japanese to own land, the community persevered.
The farming community expanded to Gresham in the following years, and, by 1920, Japanese farmers were reported to own half of the acreage of raspberries in the state, 90% of the strawberries, 30-40% of the loganberries and 60% of all the vegetables. One of the largest of these outdoor stands was the Nakata Brothers’ Fruit & Vegetable Stand, owned by Josuke and Shigeo Nakata. George Nakata—unrelated—whose father worked at the stand, can remember his father hand painting the signs displaying products and prices, and the shelves filled with crates of fruits, peaches, apples, oranges, bananas, plums and cherries, depending on the season. They sold potted plants and flowers as well, plus cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplants and other vegetables the Nakata family grew on their own land.
Mikado Hotel & Bathhouse
310 NW Everett St.
Much like the Nihonmachi neighborhood, the Mikado Hotel was constantly evolving to fit the needs of the growing Japanese American community. When Keijiro Akamatsu and his nephew, Sugao Inouye, first opened it in 1908, the Mikado Hotel had a restaurant and laundry. The hotel was located on the second floor of the Pallay Building, which was designed by Canadian architect, Alexander C. Ewart, and the restaurant operated in one of the ground floor retail spaces. Over time, the restaurant closed and the Mikado billiards and social club opened. There was also a bathhouse in the basement—reportedly the nicest bathhouse in the West. The short, 7 foot ceiling helped contain the steam for a relaxing soak after visitors had thoroughly washed. Many of them were young Japanese laborers, but athletes and employees of Nihonmachi; men and women all came to enjoy the soothing ritual of the traditional Japanese bath, or ofuro.
By 1910, Keijiro earned enough money to pay for his wife, Sumi Akamatsu and their 2 daughters, Sameko and Michiko, to move from Okayama to Portland. Eventually Sugao and Sameko had an arranged marriage. They had three children, including Kiyo, who remembers making the hotel beds and sweeping floors before school. The physician K.T. Yamada also operated in the building for several years, as did Wong’s Laundry. Sumi later accused Keijiro of mistreatment and filed for divorce—a rare occurrence in those times—and Keijiro was deported.
Sumi continued to run the hotel with the help of Sugao and Sameko. She was known as a strong entrepreneur, and when she sold the Mikado in 1936, Sumi went on to manage the Northern Hotel 2 nd and Couch Street. Just like the evolving neighborhood of Nihonmachi, the family reacted to the community’s needs, shifting from operating a restaurant to a billiards hall. Kiyo’s daughter, Joni, even recalls a taxi service at one point. It later became the New Palace Hotel.
Tsuboi Bros Jewelers
553 W. Burnside St.
Masaichi Tsuboi traveled back and forth from Portland to his home in Okayama City, Japan for a few years before landing a job at the Hachiya Watch Store and bringing his wife, Yukino, back to Portland to settle down. Right after graduating high school and marrying, his younger brother Teruo and his wife, Suma, set out to join Masaichi in Portland in 1907. Tsuboi Bros. opened its doors on West Burnside Street in 1913, selling jewelry, watches and clocks, as well as offering watch repair. The store expanded to offer Western-style clothing like Stetson cowboy hats and ties to people arriving from Japan.
Over time, Teruo took over running the business. In a 1924 New Year’s issue of Nihonmachi newspaper Oshu Nippo, an article titled, “Short Comments on the People of Portland” included a description of him, referencing the business: “ Mr. Teruo Tsuboi is a well-rounded person like a full moon. He is accurate like the Waltham or Elgin clock which he sells at the store, and he is always smiling like Ebisu, the [Japanese] god of fishing and commerce.”
Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Teruo was immediately arrested by the FBI, likely due to his presence in the community as a successful businessman. He, his wife, Suma, and their three children were incarcerated at the Minidoka camp in Idaho. At some point after WWII ended and families could return to Portland, the Tsubois reopened the store on West Burnside, and eventually added an optometrist exam room to the space.
Dr Kei Koyama
105 NW 3rd St.
Keizaburo “Kei” Koyama arrived in the US in 1915 with the dream of becoming a dentist. Born in 1898, he left his small village near Niigata to seek out the education required to be a dentist that was unavailable to him in Japan at this time. He learned English while attending Seattle Pacific, where he fell in love and married Teru Koyama in 1927. They moved to Portland after that, and Koyama graduated from the dentistry program at Pacific College (now OHSU) in 1929. He worked hard to get his practice established and become a fixture in Nihonmachi, working long hours and dedicating extra time to the community as a member of Portland's Japanese Chamber of Commerce. Organizations like this and the Japanese Association of Oregon (est. 1911) supported the Japanese community in many ways, providing legal, financial and educational assistance and helping bridge the Japanese and American cultures.
Because of his status in these community organizations, Dr. Koyama was targeted and immediately arrested by the FBI the day of the Pearl Harbor attack. He was held at various Department of Justice camps before he was reunited with his wife, Teru, and their three children at Minidoka in December 1943. Remembered as a fiercely loyal and dedicated family man, his oldest child William Koyama considered him as a role model in shaping his decisions to join the Boy Scouts, to enroll at a boarding school, and to eventually join the Army post-war in 1946. Much of these details about Dr. Koyama’s life comes from research by his great-grandson, Weston Koyama, who created a website to share and honor his grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ legacies. “Kei inspires me to maintain all faith that our nation, united not by ethnicity but by enlightenment principles, remains a place where we achieve what we dare to struggle for," says Weston about his great-grandfather.
Yamaguchi Hotel
340 NW Glisan
At the start of the 1900s, there was a building near the base of the Steel Bridge called the New Meyer Hotel. If you asked anyone in Nihonmachi about it, though, it went by another name: the Yamaguchi Hotel. Records show the building was built at around 1903, and from 1921 to 1941, it was managed by Shigezo and Masae Yamaguchi. The hotel took up the upper two floors of the building and served as a longer-term rooming house. The Mt. Hood Soap Company operated on the same block, and Union Station was just four blocks away. After Shigeo died around 1939, Masaye—Mae, for short—became the manager of the hotel. But that’s only part of this building’s legacy. In addition to running the hotel, Masaye served as the midwife for the Japanese community, providing much-needed assistance to Japanese women who weren’t getting the care they needed from hospitals.
Midwives are experienced and trained in assisting women in labor and childbirth. Historically, midwives are women who tend to visit more frequently than physicians, offering more personalized care and assisting in home births. The practice of midwifery became more established in Japan early on, as did requiring education for girls and boys. In 1870, the University of Tokyo hired German doctors to set up medical training, one of whom introduced Lister’s antiseptic techniques that made childbirth safer for mother and child. This new generation of highly trained and highly respected midwives were called sanba. Japanese women living in America in the early 1900s—many of whom were still learning English—often felt misunderstood or even ignored at hospitals. It was an immense relief and comfort to have a familiar sanba come to their homes and understand their language and culture. It is said that Masaye went as far as Hood River to help deliver a baby.
Meeting New Challenges
As these people’s stories show, the incarceration of Japanese people during WWII was not the start, nor was it the end of their struggles.
Dr. Ben Tanaka
128 NW 3rd Ave.
Benjamin Tanaka was born in 1887 in Hawaii with a hunger to learn. However, as a child of lower class laborers who worked on sugar cane and pineapple plantations, he wasn’t even allowed to learn how to read. So, he ran away at only twelve years old, making his way to Honolulu and then to Spokane, WA. A kind woman helped get him enrolled in public school, and, against all odds, Tanaka went on to attend Spokane College, University of North Dakota, University of Iowa, and, in 1920, he graduated from the University of Oregon Medical School. Dr. Tanaka opened his general practice on the second floor of the Merchant Hotel in 1922, becoming a vital resource as a bilingual doctor working in the building at the heart of Nihonmachi. He once translated a lesson on pregnant women's health and postnatal care into Japanese and published it in Oshu Nippo for all to read.
Tanaka became known for treating pneumonia, and he had relationships with Good Samaritan Hospital and Portland Adventist Hospital that allowed him to send patients there when needed. He was active in the Japanese American Citizens’ League and paid for many Nikkei students’ college tuition. As an influential figure in the community, Tanaka was immediately arrested by the FBI after the attack on Pearl Harbor. He was sent to higher security internment centers—separate from his family, who were incarcerated at Minidoka—spending most of the war at the Santa Fe Department of Justice camp as the head physician. In 1946, Tanaka and his family returned to Portland, but he was never able to restart his practice. Although the war was over, racism towards Japanese Americans remained. His former medical colleagues had turned their backs on him and the hostility made it impossible for him to do his job, forcing the family to leave Portland for Ontario, OR, where Tanaka found work at the Holy Rosary Medical Center.
Katei Gakuen
408 NW 5 th Ave.
The youth of Nihonmachi attended two schools every day. After public school Monday through Friday, students would have time to grab a snack or check in at home before heading off to Katei Gakuen for Japanese language school. To break up the long day—and get students excited for another class—there were ping pong tables that everyone looked forward to during recess. Looking back, its former students are grateful for the sense of Japanese identity it gave them while growing up in America. All of the classrooms were located on the second floor of the Povey Building, a three-story brick building designed by architect Emil Schacht for the famed stained glass manufacturer, Povey Brothers Studio, that still stands today. Documents from 1930 show discussion of the start of a Japanese school in the building, but it’s likely a former version of Katei Gakugen had formed before that.
The Issei established Japanese language schools for students from K-12 grade to get lessons in speaking Japanese, reading and writing katakana and hiragana—plus kanji calligraphy on Saturdays. They were also taught about Japanese culture to maintain a deeper understanding of their heritage, from small children learning traditional Japanese folktales like Momotaro to older students understanding concepts like giri (“duty”) and gaman (perseverance; endurance).
Katei Gakuen was a key part of connecting the generations, helping connect the youth with the language and traditions of their parents and giving them a sense of Japanese identity as they grew up immersed in American culture. The school also served as a sort of Boys & Girls Club in those times, providing additional childcare after school that was much appreciated by parents often working more than one job.
Minoru Yasui
216 NW 3rd St.
Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, a 26-year-old lawyer named Minoru Yasui set up a law office in Nihonmachi’s Foster Hotel to help the Japanese community deal with new challenges. Born in Hood River in 1916, Yasui was the first licensed Japanese American lawyer in Oregon, and he would become the first to legally challenge the government’s actions against Japanese Americans.On March 24th, 1942, the military issued a proclamation that placed a curfew on German and Italian aliens and anyone of Japanese ancestry. Unwilling to accept this violation of citizens’ rights, Yasui tested it: he walked to the Portland Police station after curfew went into effect on March 28th. He was arrested that night and ended up spending nine months in solitary confinement in Multnomah County Jail awaiting his appeal, which was denied. He was then incarcerated at Minidoka until late spring of 1944.
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After the war, Yasui moved to Denver to establish a new law practice, where he continued to fight for civil rights as a lawyer and in the community. “It was my feeling and belief, then and now, that no military authority has the right to subject any United States citizen to any requirement that does not equally apply to all other U.S. citizens,” said Yasui in 1982. Yasui’s attorney, Peggy Nagae, got the case reopened in 1983 through a writ of corum nobis, and although the court agreed to reverse his conviction, they did not admit racial discrimination. Almost 30 years later, President Barack Obama posthumously awarded Yasui with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, which sits in his actual jail cell that was relocated to be a permanent display at the Japanese American Museum of Oregon. Yasui is the only Oregonian to have received this award. In 2016, the Oregon state legislature declared March 28 as Minoru Yasui Day in perpetuity. His legacy spans beyond Oregon’s borders, continuing to inspire generations with his commitment to standing up for the rights of all
Daiichi Takeoka
216 NW 3 rd St.
One of the most important lawyers in Oregon history dedicated his life to his practice, but because he was born in Japan, was never allowed to be a licensed attorney. Daiichi Takeoka came to Oregon from Japan in 1900 when he was 17 years old, working on railroads, at sawmills and as a hotel bellboy before attending the University of Oregon Law School. He graduated in 1912, but due to the United States’ naturalization laws at that time, he could not become a citizen and could not become a licensed attorney. In order to earn a living, he sold insurance, fertilizer and worked for the Swift Company. Takeoka still advised people in Oregon and Washington on legal matters and served as president of the Japanese Association of Oregon, an organization providing legal and financial services. He later opened up his own office in the Foster Hotel, which exists today as the Lyndon Musolf Manor apartment building.
Takeoka was an advisor in a landmark lawsuit over the Toledo Incident of 1925 in which a group of Japanese sawmill workers were forced out of the town by an angry mob. The workers filed a lawsuit claiming violation of their basic civil rights and won, marking the first court win of its kind and garnering national coverage. Following his incarceration at the Santa Fe Department of Justice camp during WWII, Takeoka returned to Portland and his work. After a law passed in 1945 that denied Japanese immigrants the right to live or work on farm land—after the 1923 Alien Land Law already banned Japanese immigrants from owning or renting land in Oregon—Takeoka worked with a team of lawyers to challenge the law in court. Through their efforts, the Alien Land Laws were overturned in 1949. In the last year of his life, Takeoka was finally naturalized as a US citizen, after he’d spent that life protecting and fighting for the rights of Japanese immigrants and Japanese Americans.
Portland Assembly Center
2060 N Marine Dr.
On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066 authorizing the removal of Japanese Americans from western Oregon and Washington, all of California and part of Arizona. The Pacific International Livestock Exposition—originally built in 1921, and then rebuilt in 1925 following a fire—was selected by the military as a temporary detention center for Japanese Americans from northwest Oregon and the Yakima Valley in Washington and renamed the Portland Assembly Center.
Local orders notified all people of Japanese ancestry—citizens and non-citizens—that they had just a few weeks to prepare. They had to store or sell belongings, pack no more than one could carry and register with the authorities to get their family number—a number in place of their name, written on a tag and to be worn at all times. For the next four months, 3,676 people were forced to live at the Portland Assembly Center under the supervision of armed guards, imprisoned by a tall fence around the property.
“One day we were free citizens…the next day we were inmates of crowded concentration camps, under armed guards, fed in mess hall lines, deprived of privacy and dignity, and shorn of our rights,” recalled Emi Somekawa, who was a young mother when imprisoned at the Assembly Center. They lived in hastily constructed, open air cubicles that smelled like cow manure; they had shared bathrooms.
Guards could shoot at anyone who approached the fence. Despite the inhumane living conditions, these Japanese Americans provided education and cultural activities to feel a sense of normalcy whenever they could. By late August, they were getting loaded onto trains with the windows covered and no idea of where they were being taken. Most of the people from Washington went to Heart Mountain incarceration camp in Wyoming, and many Oregonians went to Minidoka incarceration camp in Idaho. After the war, the Assembly Hall was back to being a livestock exposition center and rodeo venue. Today, it’s the Portland Expo Center.
A Legacy That Endures
Those who overcame obstacles and built something larger than themself, creating an impact that stands the test of time and improved the lives of generations to come.
Kern Park Flower Shoppe
6713 SE Holgate Blvd.
Although Kern Park Floral wasn’t in Nihonmachi, Sukemon Itami and his wife, Shin, planted an important seed of Portland Japanese American legacy when they established their greenhouses along SE Holgate in 1915. The business started out wholesale, expanding to retail sales once they started growing carnations and chrysanthemums. The business halted in May 1942, when Sukemon, Shin, their five children, daughter-in-law and grandchild had to report to the Portland Assembly Center. They were sent to Minidoka concentration camp in Idaho, where Shin passed away during incarceration. The family returned to Portland in 1945 to find their business vandalized beyond repair. Sukemon died soon after, leaving the restart of the business to his eldest son, Shigeo, and his wife, Fumi. Shigeo not only did that—he also served on the committee for the Oregon State Alien Land Law Test Case led by Daiichi Takeoka, which successfully overturned the laws forbidding Japanese-born immigrants from renting and owning land.
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Anti-Japanese sentiment was still strong, and the family ended up hiring a white salesperson in attempts to improve sales. Another obstacle hit the family in March 1957, when a fire broke out in one of the greenhouses. No one was harmed, but the building was destroyed. The business reopened in 1957, and in 2014, granddaughter, Holly, took over and renamed it Kern Park Flower Shoppe. As sentiments evolved over time, so did their flowers, expanding to include ti leaf graduation leis and marigolds for Dia de los Muertos celebrations. Shigeo passed away in 1989, and Fumi continued to run the business with the help of her son, Frank Itami, and his family. Even into her 90s, Fumi would come by the shop and cut a few ribbons for arrangements.
Fumi Itami celebrated her 100th birthday in August 2022, and her granddaughter, Holly, runs the business with the help of her daughter Kimberly. The oldest Japanese Florist in Portland also happens to be one of its longest running family-operated businesses.
Ota Tofu
322 NW 5th Ave
When Heiji and Saizo Ohta opened a tofu shop in Nihonmachi in 1911, they knew their traditional approach to transforming ground soybeans into tasty blocks of fresh-pressed tofu would be a hit. Just as Asahi Tofu was getting going, Heiji returned to their hometown of Okayama, Japan and left the business to Saizo and his wife, Shina. They moved the business to NW 5th and renamed it Ohta Tofu. Their loyal customer base soon grew from individuals to include groceries and restaurants across town. After Pearl Harbor was attacked, Saizo and Shina were incarcerated at Minidoka concentration camp in Idaho, and sadly Saizo died there. Shina returned to Portland when the camp closed in 1945, grateful to find that their landlord had saved their equipment and shop space for them. She reopened the shop on her own as the Soybean Cake Company, assisted by her daughter Matsuno, who had spent the war years getting her education in Japan.
In the mid 1950s, the family changed the spelling of their name from its Anglicized spelling to Ota. As tofu started to trend as a mainstream health food in the 1970s, its appeal expanded beyond Asian communities. Restaurants and co-ops catering to vegetarians started ordering from Ota Tofu. Business was good; Shina’s grandson, Koichi, was running things with his wife Eileen, and the two moved the shop across the river to 812 SE Stark St., where it still stands today.
Small updates to the process happened over the years, but their methods haven’t changed in over a century, making Ota Tofu the oldest tofu shop in the US and one of the oldest in North America. The Otas sold the business to the Ogata Family in 2019, a Japanese American family who hope to keep the Ota’s legacy and their delicious tofu around for many years to come.
Buddhist Temple
312 NW 10 th Ave.
Portland's Japanese population went from 20 in 1890 to 1,460 in 1910, and as the community grew, they needed a place to gather. In 1903, residents of Nihonmachi wrote to the Headquarters of the Buddhist Mission of North America to request a minister. Reverend Shozui Wakabayashi arrived in Portland later that year, who first spent time working with the Japanese loggers. The Portland Buddhist Church was officially founded on November 29, 1903, with Rev. Wakabayashi as leader and Sunday services in two rented rooms on 4th Ave.
Once membership outgrew that space, the church was able to purchase a site on 10th Avenue to build a three-story new home for the Portland Buddhist Church. Completed in 1910, the building still stands today and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It was renamed the Oregon Buddhist Church in 1940 to reflect the growing number of people from cities outside of Portland, and again in 1995 to Oregon Buddhist Temple.
More than just a place of worship, the Buddhist Church was a social and cultural hub for the entire Japanese and Japanese American community. It was where festivals and potlucks took place, and modern weddings that blended Japanese and American traditions.
When WWII broke out, families were able to store some possessions at the Church before being forced to relocate. Rev. Tansai Terakawa continued services at Minidoka concentration camp until he died there.
Many Japanese Americans found a new home in Vanport after the war, until a devastating flood in 1948. Because they were still categorized as “enemy aliens,” the Red Cross refused assistance to the Japanese Americans. The Buddhist Church stepped up to provide much needed shelter and support after the flood. George Okamoto—a prominent architect who designed the pavilion at the Japanese Gardens—designed the new Buddhist Temple when it moved to 3720 SE 34th Avenue in 1966, where traditions continue today.
Nikkei Jin Kai
327 NW Couch
As more Japanese moved to Oregon, social clubs were established to help people connect and develop a sense of community. These associations, called kenjin-kai, represented people from the same prefecture (“ken”) in Japan. It was in this building in Nihonmachi that one of the first kenjin-kai—the Nihonjin Kai—would meet. This organization first formed as the Japanese Deliberative Council of Oregon in 1907 and was renamed the Japanese Association of Oregon in 1911.
The Nihonjin Kai didn’t reflect a specific prefecture, but rather the whole Japanese American community. They operated a Japanese Free Employment Bureau, established Japanese language classes with the University of Oregon and the YMCA, and hosted visiting foreign dignitaries. Nihonjin Kai were also known for donating fresh produce to charities during the holidays and creating head-turning floats in the city’s Floral Parade.
The organization’s services evolved over the years to keep up with the changing needs of the community, hosting poetry clubs, music groups and Japanese American Citizen League meetings, while continuing to assist the first generation Issei to establish themselves. Their work was interrupted during WWII, when all organizations relating to Japanese ancestry were forced to shut down. During the war, the Japanese Cemetery located within the Rose City Cemetery was routinely vandalized—a disrespectful act that many in the veteran community agreed with, despite the fact that many young Nikkei men were fighting for the US at that time. After the war, it became the Nikkeijin Kai and took over the cemetery’s care, and, in 2005, it became the title holder. In 1951, it became known as the Japanese Ancestral Society of Portland. While no longer based in this neighborhood, the nonprofit continues its work supporting the Nikkei community throughout Portland.
Obukan Judo
219 NW Davis St.
At the Lewis & Clark Exhibition of 1905, Bunazaemon Nii and a partner wowed the crowd with a demonstration of Kito Ryu Jujutsu. In 1926, members of the Japanese American community approached Nii about forming a judo club to help the youth strengthen their mind, body and moral character, and the Portland Judo Club was born. Once a week, students would meet on the lower floor of the Foster Hotel—originally built in 1910—to practice. Other judo clubs from Salem, Hood River and Seattle would visit for tournaments, bringing together different Japanese communities from all over Oregon and Washington. In 1932, Jigoro Kano, the founder of Judo, visited the dojo (a Japanese term for the place of martial arts practice and the students as a whole). When he visited again in 1938, they asked if he would choose a Japanese name for the club. He chose the characters “O” to represent Oregon, “bu” which means martial arts or training, and “kan” which means training hall.
During World War II, judo and all Japanese martial art training was ordered to stop by the US government and Obukan’s instructors and students were sent to concentration camps. It wasn't until 1953 that members who’d been practicing judo at clubs created at YMCA and Reed College after the war joined with the community to revive the Obukan dojo. Jim Onchi became head sensei, hosting their first tournament post-war in 1955. Onchi sensei was one of very few to reach the 9th Degree of Black Belt. During the war, he joined the army and taught self-defense and combat techniques to officers at Fort Warren Wyoming and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team at Camp Shelby in Mississippi, earning the rank of Corporal. He later helped launch a Portland Police Officer’s Judo & Self Defense program at the Obukan with the support of Mayor Terry Schrunk in 1958. Today, Obukan Judo continues to honor and instruct the art of judo at 7333 NE Fremont St.
Naito Brothers – Japanese American Historical Plaza
100 NW Naito Parkway
You may recognize the Naito name from Naito Parkway along the waterfront, but the impact of this family expands across Portland and beyond. Their story begins with Hide and Fukiye Naito, who emigrated in the 1910s from the small farming town of Tara, Japan. Hide started the Naito business in 1920 on SW Washington Street and 12th, outside of Nihonmachi. Instead of selling Japanese goods to Japanese, Hide sold imported Japanese goods to white people. Hide had a way of thinking outside of the box—after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, he gathered his family and moved to Utah to stay with relatives and avoid incarceration. Sam, the eldest son, and his brother, Bill, both enlisted in the army anyway, hoping to demonstrate their patriotism as Americans. Afterwards, they attended college and each got their Master’s degrees. By 1953, both brothers were back in Portland and working together on the family import business.
In 1962, the family opened Import Plaza in the historic Globe Hotel, a popular store that sold goods from around the world. Over the next ten years, the Naito brothers began buying buildings in Portland’s Old Town, leading the city’s efforts at revitalizing its oldest neighborhood and earning awards and recognition along the way.
The brothers purchased and restored more than 20 historic buildings, transforming the seedy Skid Row into the Skidmore/Old Town Historic District in 1975. The same year they renovated an old department store into the Galleria—downtown Portland’s first mall—the family opened its first Made In Oregon store at Portland International Airport. Bill was an influential supporter of the MAX light rail and the Portland Streetcar, and, while he was finance chair of the Oregon Nikkei Endowment, he fundraised to make the Japanese American Historical Plaza possible in 1990, memorializing the pain and beauty of the Japanese American experience for generations to come.
Today, the cherry trees marking the Japanese American Historical Plaza are one of the few visible remnants of the Japanese presence in this NW Portland neighborhood. Just as it was no accident that the growing immigrant community was pushed into this less desirable, industrial corner of downtown, once they built it into a thriving neighborhood, their displacement was also by intention. The rock sculptures of the Japanese American Historical Plaza represent the way Executive Order 9066 broke up the Japanese American community, dividing the community and the momentum they had in establishing themselves in their new home. By preserving the history of these places, buildings and people, we preserve an important part of the Japanese American story and American history in general. It teaches present and future generations what has been endured and what is possible when you refuse to give up.
Continue your journey learning about Japanese history in Oregon at the Japanese American Museum of Oregon .
This project has been funded by National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Telling the Full History Preservation Fund, with support from National Endowment for the Humanities. Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this website do not necessarily represent those of the National Trust or the National Endowment for the Humanities.