University Archives Young men of the armed forces enjoy a
meal and camaraderie in the cafeteria facilities of Kerckhoff Hall
in 1943.
By Shauna Mecartea and Marcelle
Richards
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
Slumped on the steps of Royce Hall, campus members mourned a
loss almost 3,000 miles away.
The flag at half-mast cast a shadow over the faces streaked with
tears. In their hands were newspapers that read “U.S.
ATTACKED.”
This scene marked UCLA’s campus after the bombing of Pearl
Harbor and again after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks on the World
Trade Center and the Pentagon.
When suicide planes crashed in Washington, D.C., and New York
City, Americans said they would be living in a new world. But the
same was said more than half a century ago when Hawaiian shores
were set aflame by Japanese bombs.
The same shock, fear and loathing followed after the deaths of
thousands on American soil.
In both incidents, all law enforcement units and fire
departments swarmed the streets, armed, in anticipation that the
West Coast would be the next to see the wrath of war.
Sound bites bombarded airwaves over the radio in 1941 and
through the TV in 2001 to dampen the rising fears of the public
while authorities scrambled to comprehend the situation.
Planned moments of silence, flags on cars and candlelight vigils
are somewhat of a new phenomenon evoked by the widespread use of
recent TV coverage, said American history professor Joyce
Appleby.
“It’s a different time, and there is a different way
of expressing concern,” she said.
When Pearl Harbor was attacked, the identified enemy was already
engaged in a world war that was two-and-a-half years old. But this
time a “war on terrorism” has been waged against
enemies that span the globe and have yet to be confirmed.
Despite different circumstances surrounding the attacks, the
causalities incurred on home soil left both generations mourning
human loss.
When students returned to school on Dec. 8, 1941, they clamored
to Royce Hall, where former UC president Robert Sproul advised them
to cling to normalcy.
ROTC students were notified they would complete training and
assume active duty status.
“From Kerckhoff Hall to the administration buildings, an
atmosphere of tense excitement pervaded the air,” read the
then-four page Daily Bruin.
Classes were cancelled as the campus population stayed indoors
to listen to President Roosevelt’s speeches on the radio.
The surprise attack abruptly halted life as the nation knew
it.
Toshio Tsukahira, a teaching assistant in the history department
in 1941, said during the football game against USC, he and a friend
discussed rising tensions between the U.S. and Japan the day before
the bombings.
“My friend said it would blow over,” he said.
“Well, the next day it happened and that was a
shock.”
For Alice Wheaton, a fourth-year economics student in 1941,
making service flags in sewing circles and volunteering at the Red
Cross soon took priority over attending Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority
functions.
“It changed the whole atmosphere of campus,” Wheaton
said. “It put a somber lid on the campus.”
She remembered coming home from church on a Sunday and turning
on the radio to find out about the atrocity that occurred.
Once war was officially declared, hundreds of men rushed to
enlist, dropping out of school, while others waited until
graduation to serve overseas. By the time students enrolled in
classes in February, 18 percent of the campus population had joined
the war. This was the largest enrollment drop the university had
experienced.
Blackouts, in which city lights were turned off for protection,
spanned south 250 miles from Los Angeles in an area 200 miles
wide.
On the first night of the blackouts, music from a concert in
Kerckhoff abruptly ended as lights went off and audience members
went outside to look for enemy planes.
The Student Executive Committee worked by candlelight as
chemists in a subterranean lab continued to work in their bomb
shelter-like setting.
Instead of fraternity parties, dinners were held in the sorority
houses, and men were permitted to enter. On some weekends, sorority
members attended barbecues with the servicemen based on the
coast.
Wheaton said everyone on campus was in shock and grieving but
still had to attend class.
Meanwhile, the 200 Japanese American students were faced with
adjustments of their own.
“Since the incident, life as American citizens has been
difficult for us,” said Jimmie Arima, a UCLA student in 1941
who published a statement in the Daily Bruin. “We’ve
restricted our actions to the very necessities of getting along, to
avoid unnecessary incidents which might affect public opinion
against Japanese Americans as a whole.”
Tsukahira said he felt the racial tension in the community.
“We grew up with discrimination, and it was heightened by
the indignation the attack on Pearl Harbor aroused,” he
said.
By December 1942, almost all Japanese Americans on the West
Coast were interned in concentration camps, according to a recent
report, “What 12-7 has to teach about 9-11,” written by
law professor Jerry Kang.
“The more important lesson, then, is not that wartime
creates mistakes; instead, it is that wartime coupled with racism
and intolerance create particular types of mistakes,” he
said.
“Specifically, we overestimate the threat posed by racial
“˜others,’ in WWII, Japanese Americans; today, Arab
Americans, Muslims, Middle Easterners, immigrants and anyone who
looks like “˜them,'” he continued.
Already, businesses belonging to those who are or who look like
they are of Middle Eastern descent are being vandalized, and
violence has escalated to shootings and killings.
Political science professor Matthew Baum points out that many of
these reactions toward the alleged “enemy” is a
by-product of the nationalism and patriotism that
characteristically arises in times of war.
“It’s much easier to rally support around a target
““ that’s why Osama bin Laden is portrayed as
Hitler,” he said. “But how do you rally the public to
continue on once you’ve got the great Satan? It’s truly
the tip of the iceberg.”
In this war against terrorism, he explains, the enemy is
ambiguous. If bin Laden is rid of, the president may have
difficulty keeping the public united against an unnamed mass of
terrorists.
President George W. Bush has high public approval in these early
stages, but Americans will need to see public successes to maintain
their unity and enthusiasm, he said, especially since wars against
ambiguous enemies have been historically unsuccessful.
“Frankly, we could have a trained monkey in the White
House and we’d still have an 80 percent approval
rating,” Baum said. “All this unity could erode if
there is inaction or an appearance of inaction.”
Baum said this happened with Roosevelt within five months of
Pearl Harbor.
But for now, President George W. Bush has the majority of the
country behind him as he assures the nation, “˜”˜We will
rid the world of the evil doers. We will call together
freedom-loving people to fight terrorism.”
Bush alluded to the posters of the Old West when saying he
wanted bin Laden dead or alive.
David Rapoport, political science professor, said the Bush
administration has done the right thing on the domestic level.
“This time, the government is behaving very differently.
It has tried to protect the Muslim-like community,” Rapoport
said of having Muslim leaders talk about racial relations, an
approach not used during WWII.
But some things haven’t changed. History shows recurring
themes, which the Daily Bruin acknowledged in a 1942 editorial:
“Last war’s generation had the idea that theirs was
a different war, something really new in warfare. And it was the
war to end wars … We don’t pretend this is the war to end
wars…
“It is not new. it is merely a variation on an age-old
theme. For human nature does not change, not that rapidly. People
are pretty much the same, whatever their generation. And they wage
the wars.”
So a “new world” is unveiled. Again.