Intermountain Histories

Route 66

2024-05-15T19:33:31+00:00

Route 66 is famous for its 1950s era diners and eclectic curio shops, but it was a road traveled long before it was paved and has remained iconic even after it was removed from the highway system.

Route 66 revolutionized cross country travel in America. With mass auto production and transportation accessibility on the rise, the highway’s construction in 1926 was truly a product of its time. Beginning in Chicago, Illinois and ending in Santa Monica, California the new highway gave Americans a convenient way to travel west, a practice that had become increasingly popular the previous century. Route 66 was planned around several trade routes and old roads. Geographically similar paths had been used by Kiowas, Cheyennes, Comanches, and other Native peoples for centuries. In later years these paths continued to be well traversed by Euro-Americans. Many of the automobiles on the highway were occupied by migrants, but there were plenty of vacationers as well. An exciting new concept, the “road trip,” was born in the 1920s providing Americans with the opportunity to create a grand adventure of their own. As one of the original U.S. highways Route 66 was often called “America’s Main Street” in its early days, and later, “The Mother Road,” as coined by John Steinbeck. Whole communities and businesses were established along the highway which thrived off of tourism. In the 1930s about 200,000 migrants drove cars, took trains, and even walked along Route 66, hoping for a better chance of survival and solace further west. The end goal was often California, but most of them ended up settling somewhere else along the way. America’s involvement in World War II a decade later called for the rationing of gas. This changed the demographic of highway traffic, but did not diminish it. Transportation of war supplies, military troops, and new job opportunities brought another wave of westward travelers in the mid 1940s. As the war ended, patriotism and an increased emphasis on the nuclear family led to another boom in tourism. A long drive along Route 66, a stop for dinner and photo ops, and a night or two in a roadside motel made for a relatively affordable family vacation. Beginning in 1957, Route 66 was gradually replaced by Interstate 40, whose gradual construction was mostly completed by the 1970s. Traversing similar east-west latitudes, it became the preferred route designated highway for cross country travel. Much like familiar boom-bust cycles associated with gold and other mining rushes in the West, the sudden shift of traffic away from Route 66 resulted in an abundance of ghost towns. Now, it is the nostalgia of Route 66 and its seemingly permanent existence in the past that attracts tourists. Not everyone picked up and left town when the “rush” was over. Many of the businesses that either stayed open or have since been reopened have made a living off of nostalgia, curiosity, and the prospect of adventure.

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Yukio Shimomura: Topaz Internment Camp

2024-03-18T19:58:54+00:00

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, President Franklin Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066 on February 19, 1942. This order authorized the forced evacuation of all Japanese descendents into internment camps. Families were forced to leave everything behind to go to an unfamiliar location for an unknown length of time. Yukio Shimomura was a young boy who was sent to Topaz and in 2023 still remembers his experiences.

On December 7th, 1941, the Japanese military bombed Pearl Harbor bringing the United States into the Second World War. On February 19th, 1942, President Franklin Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, forcing all people of Japanese descent living on the West Coast to relocate to internment camps. They took only what they could carry and left their homes in May 1942, having no idea where they were going or whether they would ever return. Yukio Shimomura was one of the victims of this order. Prior to arriving in Topaz, Utah, many of the Japanese Americans were held in the Tanforan Race Track in San Bruno, California, where they lived in washed-out horse stables lined with linoleum. Yukio Shimomura explained the experience: “All you had was one lightbulb…. Using scrap wood, many made nightstands and other shelves to hold their stuff. Beds were bags filled with hay, and if you couldn’t sleep on that, you slept on the floor… Lots of lines. Lines, lines, lines for everything. We were only there a short time, but it was traumatic… For those living in the horse stalls, they had it bad; they stunk when they came out… you could separate them from those living in the barracks [by their smell]… we were lucky.” Shimomura and his family stayed at Tanforan for a short time before being relocated to the Topaz Internment Camp near Delta, Utah. They remained there for three years behind barbed wire and armed guards. In Topaz, the Japanese “internees” were separated into blocks and barracks. Each block had twelve barracks, a recreation hall, latrines for men and for women, and a mess hall. The barracks were sectioned into six apartments of different sizes to accommodate families of two, four, or more people. Larger families were given two or more rooms. The six rooms came in three sizes, 20’ by 14’, 20’, or 26’. Shimomura later explained that the walls separating the rooms did not reach the ceiling so that you could hear everything from everyone all the time. He remembered, “there were 300 children born in the camp, so you figure couples realized they had to do what they needed to do.” Privacy was absent in the camp, as there were no doors or stalls in any of the bathrooms or showers. At the camp, many tried to make life as normal as possible. This included working at different jobs around the camp for roughly $14 to $19 a month, depending on the job. Children went to school, played around the camp, and all lent a helping hand in whatever needed to be done. No matter how hard they tried to make life as normal as possible, the internees understood they were not free. “Topaz was chaotic,” Shimomura summarized as he explained the death of an elderly man who did not understand the order given to turn around when approaching the barbed wire fence. After a third confusing warning, he was shot and killed. While this was the only shooting to occur at Topaz, it scarred all who were there. In January 1943, President Roosevelt asked for volunteers at Topaz to serve in the United States Army. Shimomura remembers that all who were at the camp were given a questionnaire to determine their loyalty to the United States, with question 28 asking, “Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any or all attack by foreign or domestic forces and forswear any form of allegiance or obedience to the Japanese emperor or any other foreign government, power or organization?” If the answer was yes, internees could leave the camp for military service. One hundred and five young men, including some young fathers, signed up to fight and were allowed to leave the camp for the first time. The loyalty of Japanese American soldiers who served in the war raised questions about the purposes of the internment camps. In 1943, many others gained sponsors and were allowed to leave the camp to attend universities or enter employment.

The Topaz Internment camp closed its doors in October 1945, and the barracks were moved by the end of 1947. The Japanese American Citizen League erected a monument in 1976 to commemorate those who had stayed there. In August of 1988, President Ronald Reagan signed the Civil Liberties Act that was later enforced by President George H.W. Bush. It issued a formal apology and gave $20,000 to all those who were still alive, like Shimomura, a small compensation for all they had lost and suffered as a result of internment.

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Times in Topaz: Daily Life in Utah's Japanese Internment Camp

2024-02-26T19:11:24+00:00

Utah's only internment camp, Topaz, housed approximately 9,000 Japanese Americans for three years during World War II. People in Topaz attempted to maintain normalcy in their daily lives by having schools, recreational activities, a newspaper, and cultural associations.

Located behind a frail barbed wire fence fifteen miles out from the remote town of Delta, Utah, the Topaz internment camp is utterly isolated from the rest of the state. Topaz was an American concentration camp where approximately 9,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans primarily from California’s Bay Area were held during World War II. Open from September 1942 until October 1945, daily life in the Topaz internment camp was characterized by an attempt to maintain some sense of normalcy despite severe restrictions and unfair treatment. The main living area of Topaz was a 640-acre compound with rows of barracks that contained living quarters, communal bathrooms, and recreational areas. Topaz also had two elementary schools, a high school, and a library. Teachers were often camp residents or local adults. Students who graduated from Topaz High were sometimes allowed to leave Topaz to attend colleges in the East. The efforts to promote education despite incarceration reflect the attempts to maintain normalcy for Japanese people living in Topaz. Recreational activities in Topaz included participating in cultural associations, sports teams such as basketball and baseball, sumo wrestling, arts and crafts, and even the making of the traditional Japanese dessert mochi to celebrate the Japanese New Year. Many people in Topaz exhibited their creative work in art and hobby shows, which displayed traditional calligraphy, sculptures, painting, and jewelry. Many pieces of art from Topaz are still around today, showing the lasting impact and endurance of those who were in Japanese internment camps. Life in Topaz was recorded in the newspaper Topaz Times. Written by people in the camp, the paper documented news in Topaz including weather, events within the camp, new constructions and developments, new arrivals of people, sporting events, school, and recreational activities. This newspaper, with frequent updates about life and events within Topaz, is an excellent source of information about daily life behind the barbed wire. The lives of those forced into internment at Topaz were drastically altered, but many tried to maintain some sense of normalcy for those three years in order to survive. Today Topaz is gone, with only the foundations of barracks and some fencing indicating it was once an internment camp. It is important to remember the stories of those who were in Topaz to commemorate a darker side of Utah’s and the United States' history, to honor the resilience of those incarcerated, and to give a voice and identity to those who were once silenced.

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Women in Los Alamos during the Manhattan Project

2023-09-24T18:36:48+00:00

With the war effort withdrawing men from the domestic labor force, women became an increasingly important part of the Manhattan Project in Los Alamos.

Wartime labor shortages were a constant struggle for the United States during World War II. They needed to send troops overseas, develop weaponry, spy on their enemies, strategically plan, and mobilize the entire nation as quickly as possible. By 1943, the United States Army was 200,000 men short for their invasion on D-Day, they were in need of 315 more physicists for their defense projects, and the Manhattan Project was desperately in search of all kinds of labor from scientists and engineers to machinists and pipefitters. In response, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed into existence the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps established “for the purpose of making available to the national defense the knowledge, skill, and special training of women of the nation” on May 15, 1942. Still facing discrimination, unequal pay, and fewer opportunities than their male counterparts, women played an essential role in World War II, especially in Los Alamos.
Because Los Alamos was such a restricted town and the directors wanted to limit the number of outsiders, General Leslie Groves encouraged wives of scientists to work on the project in whatever capacity they could. As an incentive, they provided nursery schools for their young children to aid with childcare. Despite the government’s encouragement, some women were still hesitant to work on the project over concerns for their family’s well-being. Many had not expected to work at all, and quite a few were dissatisfied with the living conditions in which they now were expected to raise their children. Charlotte Serber, the only female group leader at the laboratory, wrote, “For the potential working wife, there was one chief worry. Could she manage her home here on the mesa and work too?” These were fair concerns. The conditions under which they were expected to work were difficult. They were isolated from extended family, were allowed only one day off of work per month for shopping in Santa Fe, were expected to work forty-eight hours in a week, and had almost no bargaining power to shift their rules or salary. They were also far less likely to gain security clearance than their male counterparts, so it was unlikely that they knew what they were helping create.
Despite these stringent circumstances, many women in Los Alamos did work on the secretive atomic gadget. By October 1944, women constituted about 30% of the labor force in the Tech Area, hospital, and schools. It is also notable that although they did employ some women in clerical positions, the vast majority were scientists or technicians. They were metallurgists, engineers, physicists, chemists, and teachers, involved in every aspect of the atomic effort until the very end. The exception for this participation was in Project Alberta. This was the very last phase of the project; the physical delivery of the bomb to the Pacific island Tinian where the nuclear components were assembled before being dropped on Japan. Women who had spent years contributing to this moment were left behind in the United States to learn about the bombingsfrom the same newspapers as everyone else. However, the atomic bomb could not have been built as quickly or efficiently as it was without the contribution of women. They faced gender discrimination, suboptimal conditions, and unfair pay to contribute to the atomic effort in Los Alamos.
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The Trinity Site and the First Atomic Bomb

2023-09-20T20:26:47+00:00

The first successful detonation of an atomic weapon on July 16, 1945 in a remote New Mexican desert had global and historic consequences. “A new thing had been born; a new control; a new understanding of man, which man had acquired over nature” (Isidore I. Rabi).

Even after the United States and its World War II allies accepted Germany’s surrender on May 8, 1945, the conflict still raged in the Pacific with Japan. Japanese resistance was fierce as the United States painstakingly advanced toward Tokyo. As the allied forces moved island by island, fighting in sweltering jungle, both sides suffered heavy losses. It was at this crucial moment that the scientists of the secret American Manhattan Project began planning for a test that would not only change the course of the war, but also the future of international relations.
The United States, in collaboration with allied Great Britain, had been developing an experimental master weapon since August 1942. Code-named “The Manhattan Project,” this highly secret endeavor largely took place in Los Alamos, New Mexico although there were participating teams at Oak Ridge, Tennessee and Hanford, Washington. In this inaccessible New Mexican desert, hundreds of physicists, chemists, engineers, and military personnel gathered in secret to theorize and create the deadliest weapon known to man.
By the end of 1944, there were two designs and two bombs, Little Boy and Fat Man. Little Boy used a gun-type fission design which shot uranium 235 at itself to reach supercritical mass, resulting in the single largest explosion of its time. The Los Alamos scientists were confident that this design would work and did not want to waste any precious material on a test. Little Boy had used all available U235, so any test would deplete the United States’ supply and would require too much time for the project to regenerate at its Oak Ridge site. Little Boy would go on to be dropped on Hiroshima on August 6th, 1945 and become the first nuclear bomb used in warfare.
On the other hand, Fat Man utilized an implosion design with explosives surrounding the highly reactive plutonium core. The idea was that the inward-facing explosives would trigger an explosive reaction of the plutonium and result in a larger blast than its Little Boy uranium counterpart. The scientists were less confident in this design. Plutonium had only been discovered at the end of 1940, and the implosion method was difficult to master. If each explosive was not uniform in strength and distance, the correct reaction would not begin, and the overall impact would decrease. Due to these doubts and the easier access to plutonium, the Los Alamos scientists decided to test “The Gadget.”
The first step was finding somewhere to detonate a 10,000 ton bomb without alerting the international community. They decided on a stretch of high desert between New Mexico and Texas called Jornada del Muerto, translated as “Journey of Death.” It was later named the Trinity Site, likely inspired by Robert J. Oppenheimer’s interest in the Hindu concept of the three gods of preservation, destruction, and creation. On May 31, 1945, the requisite shipment of plutonium arrived in Los Alamos from the Hanford facility and scientists began to assemble Fat Man. Up to this point, Los Alamos had not housed a significant supply of plutonium, so all work on Fat Man was done speculatively or at miniscule scales. Working at a harried pace, scientists and engineers readied and transported a plutonium core to Trinity by July 13. Harry Truman, newly inaugurated President of the United States, wanted the test completed before the Potsdam conference with Churchill and Stalin on July 17, but weather conditions made it difficult for the scientists to comply. Finally, at 5:30 am on July 16, “The Gadget” detonated.
Many reactions have been recorded describing the physical experience as well as moral and philosophical implications of the detonation. The light was so powerful that Georgia Green, a blind student miles away at the University of New Mexico asked “What’s that?” Physicist Isidore I. Rabi, who observed from ten miles away at base camp wrote, “Suddenly, there was an enormous flash of light, the brightest light I have ever seen or that I think anyone has ever seen. It blasted; it pounced; it bored its way right through you. It was a vision which was seen with more than the eye. It was seen to last forever.” Rabi also acknowledged the historic and philosophical weight of the moment, “A new thing had been born; a new control; a new understanding of man, which man had acquired over nature.” Alongside confusion and fear expressed by some locals and trepidation expressed by some Los Alamos scientists, there was also great enthusiasm and excitement. Project officials immediately sent a coded telegram announcing the “satisfactory operation” to Truman, just before his meeting with Churchill and Stalin.
Back at the Trinity site, the scientists emerged from their safe havens and inspected the damage. The Gadget had destroyed every living thing within 1,200 feet of ground zero and disintegrated the steel tower on top of which it had been placed. It was, in the words of General Groves, “successful beyond the most optimistic expectations of anyone” and even larger than Little Boy. Because of its success at the Trinity Site, the Fat Man model would later be dropped on Nagasaki on August 9th, three days after Little Boy obliterated Hiroshima.
Today, Trinity remains a highly radioactive site. Visitors are only allowed to visit two days a year. There are replicas of the bomb casing and the tower. Part of the original crater remains and reveals pockets of Trinitite, a green residue of highly radioactive sand particles melted by incredible temperatures into a glass-like substance. It can only be found at the Trinity Site and is illegal to collect for health concerns. Here, the first man-made atomic weapon detonated which aided in ending WWII and ushering in the age of atomic weaponry and mutually assured destruction. This continues to define international relations today.
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Life in Los Alamos: Linking the Past and Present

2023-09-20T19:36:59+00:00

Los Alamos residents in the 1940s found themselves in unusual circumstances. John von Neumann explained that, “At great expense we have gathered on this mesa the largest collection of crackpots ever seen.” Yet these people continued life under the cover of secrecy and created a community which has lasted until this day.

As the scientists and military personnel worked furiously to create an atomic weapon during the latter years of WWII, many moved to the classified town of Los Alamos, New Mexico. Because their project was shrouded in such secrecy, they were required to move themselves and their family without knowing many of the details of their new job or location. Although the civilian and academic director, J. Robert Oppenheimer, tried to make it as much of a collaborative and normal operation as possible, the nature of their assignment meant that living in Los Alamos was unique.
Many scientists arrived without knowing exactly where they would be working or what they would be doing. They were not even allowed to tell their spouses what their work in the restricted laboratories entailed. Secrecy was of the utmost importance. Oppenheimer spread disinformation to nearby cities, such as Santa Fe, that they were working on an electric rocket. Mail for all scientists was addressed to Box 1663, Sandoval County, Rural. It was liable to searches and some outgoing mail was redacted for security concerns. Even phone calls were monitored—army intelligence agents were obvious in listening in on people’s private conversations. Barbed wire covered the scenic landscape and made some workers feel as though they were the ones imprisoned rather than the liberators of those in European prison camps.
Despite the secrecy and sometimes oppressive security, many familiar aspects of daily life continued in Los Alamos. Many women were given clerical jobs such as secretaries or computer operators to keep them occupied while their husbands worked. Children continued to attend school and babies continued to be born. In regards to the baby boom, the military official General Leslie Groves grumbled that they were simply taking advantage of the free healthcare awarded to those in the army effort. The few movies which were allowed to play were quite popular. In a move for additional entertainment, engineers and scientists threw amateur theatricals which even featured the eminent Oppenheimer in the role of “corpse.”
The setting of Los Alamos itself served as a diversion for employees and their families. Oppenheimer had picked the site of Los Alamos for its beauty and openness. He thought that it could give the scientists a sense of freedom amidst all of their restrictions. Placed on top of towering mesas flanked by green mountains and overlooking fantastic natural features, there were many opportunities for outdoor recreation. During the winter, avid skiers trekked up the nearby Jemez Mountains and skied back down to their homes. The outdoor ice rink, built in 1936, became an unofficial youth center for local children to spend their winters with friends. The warmer months brought camping, horseback riding, fishing, and hiking. Curious children and adults also explored the many nearby Ancestral Puebloan archaeological sites and ruins.
Even though Los Alamos was a unique environment of brilliant scientists sequestered in the wilderness, life found a way to continue in relative normalcy. It grew out of a wartime necessity into a long-lasting community with unusual origins. Today, Los Alamos is home to around 13,000 people and a National Laboratory specializing in weapon-making for the United States government. The community maintains their engagement in many of the recreational activities that their predecessors did. The Pajarito Ski Hill and the ice rink continue to gather youth and adults during the winter months. Warmer times of the year bring outdoor sports, especially running and hiking, among the abundant natural landscape. Summer is also the ideal time for weapons testing. For seasoned Los Alamos citizens, a large explosion miles away that rattles windows and door frames is unsurprising—rarely do they suspect an earthquake. The work and life of Los Alamos persists nearly a century after it was settled.
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Jewish Contribution to the Manhattan Project

2023-09-13T00:46:14+00:00

Jewish participation in the Manhattan Project, particularly in Los Alamos, was an essential part of the operation's success. They continued to support their country despite local discrimination and the tragedy of World War II occurring abroad.

The United States’ development of the first atomic bomb would not have been possible without the contribution of Jewish Americans and Jewish refugees who fled Nazi Germany and war-torn Europe throughout the Manhattan Project. In August of 1939, Albert Einstein, Leo Szilard, and Enrico Fermi drafted and sent a letter to President Roosevelt via Alexander Sachs, warning the President of the potential use of atomic power in weaponry. This, in addition to another letter sent by British-Jewish scientists, led Roosevelt to form an advisory committee on uranium and, eventually, create the Manhattan Project.
Significantly, every person involved in the drafting and deliverance of this letter were Jewish or had close Jewish family members. Of the four involved, three were European refugees. Einstein was from a family of German Ashkenazi Jews and fled to the United States in 1933. Szilard was from a Hungarian Jewish family and fled to England in 1933 and then the United States in 1938. Fermi, while himself not Jewish nor German, was married to a Jewish woman which required him and his family to flee his home of Italy in 1938. Sachs was American-Jewish and an important advisor to President Roosevelt. All were impacted by the anti-Semitism of Germany and were respected and prominent enough to sway the President of the United States into forming a committee. Subsequent letters and information, much of which was provided by Jewish scientists, followed and increased the breadth of the project.
Jewish involvement in the Manhattan Project burgeoned as the war continued. J. Robert Oppenheimer, a young American Jew, was placed as the head of the Los Alamos branch of the Manhattan Project. He created four divisions in the Los Alamos lab, with the T-division, the theoretical division, being the most important. Of the 86 members in this division, 18 were Jewish—almost 21%. Even more impressive, of the eight groups in 1945, five were led by Jewish scientists such as Richard Feynman, Hans Bethe, and John von Neumann. Although Jews only constituted around .05% of the US population at the time, they made up a significant portion of the scientists at Los Alamos National Laboratory.
Jewish involvement in the Manhattan Project, as well as the project itself, were not known by the American public, and antisemitic prejudice was commonplace. In the 1920s, before J. Robert Oppenheimer attended, the president of Harvard, A. Lawrence Lowell, called for a quota of Jews to keep their presence sparse in the university. Even in Los Alamos, where Jewish scientists were important pioneers of the Manhattan Project, General Leslie Groves, the project’s military leader, stated, “I don’t like certain Jews, and I don’t like certain well-known characteristics of theirs.” Some Jewish scientists, such as Leo Szilard, were tailed by the FBI and noted for their “Jewish extraction” and “foreign tongue.”
At the same time, Los Alamos was a relative haven for these Jews. They were allowed in the upper echelons of decision-making and they were not stripped of titles or rewards because of their background. Ellen Bradbury Reid, an Anglo child in Los Alamos recalled, “I would not say [it was] a utopian situation, but. . . now I realize there were a lot of Jewish people, the European Jewish community who were there. I had no idea. . . [we] were all sort of in the same soup.” Despite prejudice, Jewish scientists were largely able to find footing in Los Alamos and thrive in the project. Jewish scientists in the Manhattan Project made a substantial and powerful impact in crafting the bombs which would end the war that, in total, killed over six million Jews.
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Dorothy McKibbins: The Gatekeeper of Los Alamos

2023-09-08T01:24:19+00:00

The Manhattan Project would not have been possible without the efforts of Dorothy McKibbin, the Gatekeeper of Los Alamos. From attaining marriage licenses to transferring phone calls, Dorothy McKibbin was an integral and diversely skilled cog in the large machine of building the first nuclear weapons.

Once General Leslie Groves and Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer chose Los Alamos, New Mexico as the place to build the atomic bomb; hundreds of bewildered employees streamed into the nearby town of Santa Fe. Due to the confidentiality of the Manhattan Project, recruitment was difficult and details provided to the new hires were vague because of the classified nature of their work. They were told that their work would helpe war effort and be located in the scenic mesas of New Mexico, but little else. After a long train ride to the nearby town of Lamy, scientists and their families hauled their luggage through the winding streets of Santa Fe, looking for 109 East Palace Avenue—the only address they had been given. There, they were met by a simple red and blue sign reading “United States Engineer Office No. 3” and the welcoming presence of Dorothy McKibbin.
In 1932, recently-widowed Dorothy McKibbin moved to Santa Fe from Kansas with her son, hoping for a new life. When she met Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer in 1943, she found one. Oppenheimer recognized her comforting, calming, and competent presence and asked her to be a War Department secretary with unspecified duties. Like the other personnel, she only knew that her job concerned an essential war project. As she discovered after accepting the position, duties encompassed everything from disciplining Nobel laureates, receiving classified mail, enforcing security, helping lost families find the way to their new homes, and more. She was there for some of the most important moments of the project, even observing the Trinity Test from a car parked near Albuquerque. To Dorothy McKibbin, “Working at 109 was more than just a job. It was an exciting experience. Our office served as the entrance to one of the most significant undertakings of the war or, indeed, of the twentieth century.”
For the entirety of the Manhattan Project she was the point of contact between the secret city and the rest of the world, earning herself the nickname of the “Gatekeeper of Los Alamos.” After the Manhattan Project concluded, the site was renamed the Los Alamos National Laboratory, and McKibbin continued to work there until her retirement in 1963. She spent her retirement organizing community programs in Los Alamos and Santa Fe until her death in 1985. Today, a room in the Los Alamos History Museum is named in her honor, and although her office at 109 East Palace currently houses a gift shop, its original iron gate which once welcomed thousands to the secret city is on display at the Los Alamos History Museum.
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Bathtub Row

2023-09-08T00:39:58+00:00

As scientists raced to build the first atomic weapon during WWII, they were required to sacrifice their time, academic careers, energy, bathtubs, and more in the remote desert highlands of New Mexico.

As World War II raged into the 1940s, each country in the war was an avid participant in the race for scientific advancement. With such high stakes, the United States invested two billion dollars—over $33 billion today—in the creation of the atomic bomb. This massive project was dubbed the Manhattan Project, after its headquarters in New York, despite largely taking place in the remote highlands of New Mexico.
While the United States had fiscal resources to invest in the project, they did not have much time. Both the Germans and the Soviets were developing their own nuclear weapons, and it seemed that whoever discovered how to harness the power of the atom first would win the war. The speed and urgency of the venture inevitably meant that some details were overlooked. Construction teams were tasked with building housing for thousands of men, women, and children in the remote deserts of New Mexico in total secrecy. The workmanship of many of these early houses was shoddy at best. Project builders were not only short on time, but materials. In particular, iron was a scarce resource and largely reserved for the war effort. Understandably, it could hardly be used for iron bathtubs. Due to these factors, the majority of scientists, military personnel, and their families lived in small, relatively iron-less, hastily built homes with only a few variations of bathroom fixtures—none of which included bathtubs. Only a single row of houses had the luxury of bathtubs because they were built before the war and had originally belonged to teachers of a secondary boys’ ranch school. These “master cottages” were some of the only buildings already built when the government bought the land and were a coveted luxury. Reserved for men such as Nobel-Prize winning Englishman Sir James Chadwick, explosives expert George Kistiakowsky, bomb designer Max Roy, ordnance director William S. “Deak” Parsons, and head scientist Robert J. Oppenheimer, bathtubs were a sign of prestige in this secret New Mexico town. According to local legend, Alice Kimball Smith, wife of scientist Cyril Smith, coined the term “bathtub row.” This effectively differentiated between the comfortable ranch school homes with bathtubs and those of government construction with showers.
Despite the obvious disparity, many on Bathtub Row were willing to share their good fortune. Robert Oppenheimer was reportedly a generous host who invited many in the community into his home for classified discussions, drinks, and dinner parties. Ordnance director William S. Parsons’ home was fortunate enough to have two bathtubs. He often allowed military men to use them if they were injured and unable to stand for long periods of time under a shower. These bathtubs were also used to entice babysitters who would be rewarded with a relaxing soak in their neighbor’s home in exchange for an afternoon taking care of the owners’ children.
Today, these houses are privately owned, but remain part of the Los Alamos National Historical Landmark District. In 2007, the Los Alamos population petitioned to change the street name from 20th to Bathtub Row. The community has continued to embrace this humorous anecdote from WWII through naming the local brewing co-op after the iconic row of houses. It stands as a reminder of the simple luxuries many relinquished in favor of supporting the American effort during WWII.
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Provo and Orem WWII Labor Camps: Japanese-American Internees

2019-02-13T10:52:38+00:00

Due to war-time labor shortages, prisoners from the Topaz Internment Camp helped Orem and Provo farmers harvest fruit, amid discrimination.

After the Japanese military bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, some Americans feared that US citizens of Japanese descent might engage in espionage for Japan. This racially charged wartime hysteria led President Roosevelt to sign Executive Order 9066, which forced those of Japanese descent into prison camps across the country. One such camp was in Delta, Utah. It was known as the Topaz Relocation Center.
World War II labor shortages increased as more Utah men joined military efforts, and state officials and Utah farmers sought workers to fill their places in designated labor camps to harvest various crops. Seeking work opportunities outside of the prison camp, many of Topaz’s internees volunteered to work at these labor camps in the surrounding town of Delta and in the northern Utah towns of Provo and Orem. The Provo camp, located at Ninth South and Fourth East, housed 400 persons and consisted of a temporary tent city where local farmers hired Japanese workers to work on beet farms. The Orem labor camp, located at 950 North and 800 East, was a more permanent site with large barracks and cabins, administrative offices, a kitchen and mess hall, and outhouses. The internees worked in orchards of various kinds. In May of 1943, the first seventeen young men arrived in Utah County to work as farmhands. The Utah Farm Association eventually relocated these hired Japanese American workers to the permanent Orem site shortly after.
Though farmers hired Japanese workers willingly, anti-Japanese sentiments continued among many Utah residents. In 1943, these sentiments culminated in a violent incident involving Japanese-American workers and some white Provo residents. On October 3rd, five white youth, with shotguns and .30 caliber rifles, gathered and opened fire on the Provo labor camp and on local Japanese homes. Three people were struck by pellets, but no one was seriously injured. The attack had been the third of the week, with two previous reports of white youth throwing stones at Japanese workers and quickly escaping in cars. The War Relocation board threatened to remove the workers, and thereby their desperately needed labor, if Provo residents could not tolerate and protect Japanese workers. The residents chose to protect the workers and keep their labor. The five youth were later arrested for their attack.
In the fall of 1944, German and Italian prisoners of war replaced Japanese American and immigrant workers at the Orem labor camp, ending the Topaz prisoners’ connections at the Orem labor camp. But today the Topaz prisoners’ important role in Utah farm labor is memorialized at the Orem Heritage Museum. Though a school now stands on the actual Orem camp site, a sign commemorates Japanese workers and the labor contributions they made to WWII-era agricultural efforts. Residents can visit these sites and see Topaz’s influence far beyond the internment camp in central Utah.
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Willie Ito: From Topaz to Disney

2019-02-13T10:34:59+00:00

Internees at Topaz went to school and participated in all kinds of classes, including art. One art student at Topaz went on to illustrate one of the most iconic Disney animation scenes of all time.

The devastation of Pearl Harbor and the hysteria of the Second World War set the stage for white Americans to indulge their racist attitudes. Despite Japanese Americans showing no verifiable signs of sedition, many American citizens saw them as enemies who could not be trusted. Those of Japanese ancestry who lived along the Pacific coast were forced to enter inland internment camps like Topaz, Utah, for the duration of the war. Despite having had their rights disregarded, many of these prisoners continued to develop their talents. One such prisoner was a boy named Willie Ito, who went on to create a piece of art that would be seen by millions of Americans for years to come.
Willie was born in 1934 and grew up in San Francisco California. One of the most influential experiences in young Willie’s life was going to a movie theater in San Francisco and seeing the film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). It was then that he knew that he wanted to be an animation cartoonist. After President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 in February 1942, Willie and his family were interned at Tanforan racetrack in San Francisco. A few months later the government relocated the Tanforan prisoners to a permanent camp in Topaz, Utah. In Topaz Willie went to school and took art classes. While many of the kids liked to play games and baseball after school, Willie liked to go back to his family’s assigned barrack and draw. Willie would draw on the Sears Roebuck catalogs that were delivered every three months, making flipbooks in the margins of the expired catalogs.
Willie and his family left Topaz in early 1945. While studying at Chouinard Art Institute in Los Angeles, Willie landed the dream job of working at Walt Disney Studios. One of his first projects was animating the famous spaghetti scene in the film Lady and the Tramp. Willie also worked at Warner Bros and Hannah-Barbera Studios before returning to Walt Disney to work on consumer products. More recently Willie has illustrated two children's books, Hello Maggie (2007) and Boy of Heart Mountain (2010). These books detail some of the experiences of the people of Japanese descent who were incarcerated during World War II. Willie has chosen to use his artistic skill to educate others on the great injustices done to him and many other Americans of Japanese descent who were here at Topaz as well as the other internment camps across the country.
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