50th Anniversary Issue — October 1, 1995

By Toshi Tokunaga Cooper

Something was terribly wrong. I was a young Japanese woman trained in the traditional arts, expected to arrange flowers, obey custom and follow in the footsteps of whoever would be chosen to be my husband.

But here I was, in 1949, surrounded by the ''conquering enemy'' -- smiling, warm-hearted GIs -- in the bustling Pacific Stars and Stripes newspaper office that was so full of life it seemed like the center of the universe.

My conservative father was aghast. I was in heaven.

And that's where I stayed for about 22 years. I have often been asked how I got such an interesting job. The answer is simply that I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.

Thanks to an introduction from a college friend, I had found a job in the public information office of Gen. Douglas MacArthur's headquarters (GHQ). Maj. Fred May was chief of the PIO newsroom. From there he went to Pacific Stars and Stripes, becoming the sixth officer in charge. He offered me a job at the paper.

I still remember the city room, on the third floor of the old Nippon Times building. It was very different from PIO in the NHK building, where well-dressed correspondents from important stateside news media worked in clean, air-conditioned comfort.

The PS&S city room was tiny in comparison -- and hot, with fans buzzing and soldiers and sailors in T-shirts sweating and shouting. Every few seconds, the building would shake as a train rumbled by -- mainline tracks were just a few feet from the windows.

I must have looked a bit bewildered on that August day in 1949. Maj. May, a kindly man who treated me like his daughter, said, "Don't worry, Toshi. They are all nice boys. You'll get used to them.''

Yes, I sure did. They became like family. In fact, over the next 22 years, I would spend much more time with my Stripes family than with my own family.

People say the Japanese are kind, and I suppose that's true. But, for me, it was the people I worked with and came to know at Stars and Stripes who seemed so helpful and anxious to make me feel comfortable.

With support and encouragement from so many, I quickly learned my new responsibilities -- researching facts and filing in the library and interpreting for reporters and photographers.

I was inexperienced and naive, but I was also enthusiastic and willing to learn -- and I had some great teachers. Here are a few of my earliest memories from those days.

The first assignment I recall covering with a reporter was a flood story in downtown Tokyo.

It must have been the typhoon season. The reporter drove our Jeep. Stripes didn't have its own drivers then. Or photographers. We picked up a Signal Corps cameraman at the Sanshin Building at Hibiya corner, which was at A and Z avenues under the Occupation street system.

We bounded off, but suddenly I realized I didn't know where we were going. I was expected to give directions but I was completely unfamiliar with that part of Tokyo. It was one of those embarrassing moments.

We finally found the flooding, and I'm sure we interviewed some people at the scene. But what I remember best is that this was my introduction to trying to get information from official Japanese sources.

I remember telephoning the police, the city officer and the weather bureau. And I remember getting nowhere. Information was doled out through individual Japanese "press clubs" connected with the various agencies.

To get information you had to be a member. I think that same "closed system" continues today.

It was frustrating not being able to get information, and I guess I didn't know enough to be intimidated by the government bureaucracy. Whenever I could, I began making personal contacts with officials and bureaucrats.

Somehow, I had the nerve and the spunk to walk right in, introduce myself and make contact with the right people. Today, they teach courses in such things and call it "networking." To me, it came naturally and seemed part of the job.

My first sports assignment came when a reporter asked me to take him to a sumo tournament. He didn't think much of it and soon declared, "This isn't a sport. I'll show you a real sport." He took me to see a military boxing match. You call that a sport, I felt like saying. It was a brutal display. I kept my eyes covered most of the time.

My first meeting with a member of the royal family came in 1950. Cpl. Ernie Peeler, a veteran newsman who looked out of place in uniform, asked me to set up an interview with Princess Kazuko, the third daughter of then-Emperor Hirohito. She had just married, and it was one of the first happy occasions for the royal family after World War II.

I begged Ernie to wear a clean, pressed uniform for the interview and was much relieved when he showed up looking neat and sharp. But I almost screamed out loud at the royals' residence when he took off his shoes and there was a hole in the toe of his sock.

We got through that little crisis somehow and, shortly after that, Ernie went to Korea to cover the war. He never came back.

One of the biggest thrills for me was seeing Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio. It was early 1954, and they were on their honeymoon. When we got to Haneda airport to cover their arrival, it was total chaos.

There were reporters and photographers everywhere.

In addition to covering their arrival we were supposed to deliver a letter to Marilyn from the Pacific Stars and Stripes officer in charge inviting her to visit the newspaper. To our great disappointment, Marilyn and Joe had been whisked away and avoided the press completely.

Driving back to Tokyo from the airport, we were dejected.

Then, up ahead on the road, I thought I saw a blonde head in the back seat of a car. Gleefully, we pursued. And it turned out to be Marilyn and Joe. We followed them to the Imperial Hotel, where they slipped past another huge crowd of media people and pulled up to a back entrance -- with us right behind.

We delivered the letter of invitation, but Marilyn and Joe weren't able to visit the paper.

That was too bad, but for me, at least, one dream had come true. I had their autographs. Marilyn went on to entertain the troops in Korea.

There was plenty of tough, tedious work, too. Being liaison and interpreter for sensitive labor negotiations, for instance, was difficult and exhausting.

And I can't begin to count the hours I put in at meetings discussing the paper's move to its present location at Tokyo's Hardy Barracks in the early 1960s.

But to call my career at the paper exciting would be an understatement. Really, I can't think of a dull moment.

I still think of Stars and Stripes as my second home. And I will always remember the wonderful people I worked with, laughed with -- and even argued with. My only regret is that I didn't get to Stars and Stripes sooner.