He gestures towards the branch of a slender shrub and holds it gently, naming it after the hills. Tadashi Hamada confidently declares, “This magnificent tree is called a Hollywood juniper.” He is well acquainted with its species. Originating from his native land, Japan, this evergreen tree showcases twisted clusters of foliage. Planted in the front of his residence located in Mid-City, where the paint shows signs of wear and tear and the front steps droop, this particular tree stands proudly.
Hamada starts trimming, retrieving a set of clippers from his pocket. Needles gently fall to the ground. His eyes occasionally act up, causing him to narrow them. At the age of 75.
“Enhanced,” he declares. “An excessive number of foliage perishes indoors due to the lack of sunlight exposure.”
With that, Hamada climbs into his white Chevrolet truck to start his Wednesday route, and for the remainder of the day, the clippers will remain untouched as he places them in the glove compartment.
The job has been narrowed down to mowing lawns and trimming weeds in order to cover as much ground as possible. When Hamada first started working as a gardener many years ago, it was customary to prune bushes and plant flowers. Most of the work was done manually.
Disappearing from the scenery is the Japanese horticulturist, formerly a prevalent presence in Los Angeles and its neighboring regions. Additionally altered is the persona of individuals involved in the industry.
The closure of the Gardeners’ co-op in Little Tokyo earlier this year signaled the end of an era. The small warehouse, which had previously catered to thousands of Japanese American gardeners, offered gardening supplies at reasonable prices.
However, many members have retired or passed away. They have encouraged their children to aspire for greater things.
In order to preserve a heritage, gardening was always intended to serve as a source of sustenance. The second and third descendants never anticipated that the issei would adopt such a challenging profession.
Some American-born children put leases on their names. Asians were barred from naturalization at that time. Until a law was passed in 1913 that forbade aliens from possessing land for more than three years, they eventually gained ownership of their own plots. Thousands of immigrants moved to rural areas to work as farmhands. The first wave of Japanese in California did not intend to own land, unlike others.
It was a year-round job without a boss, requiring minimal English proficiency and startup capital. Gardening was a natural transition at a limited time of opportunity.
Various local associations of gardeners emerged and members exchanged techniques, counsel, and discussions on politics.
When Japanese Americans entered the United States during World War II, their roots, momentum, belongings, and homes were swept away as the government-ordered internment lost any foothold gained by the community.
When the order for internment ended, lingering anti-Japanese sentiment still meant few options — even for the second generation and well educated.
The gardeners became the cornerstone of the American Japanese community. Some women joined their husbands or took over widowed routes. It allowed them to send their kids to college and buy homes, but the work on weekends was required and it was considered menial. Historians estimated that at one time, there was one American Japanese gardener in every four men.
The Japanese gardener, a humble servant, possesses a natural talent for plants and agriculture, which bestows upon him a mystical Eastern philosophy. In this particular scenario, immigrants are perfectly suited for the roles they undertake, as the Japanese gardeners wearing pith helmets have also become a symbol of prestige, leading celebrities to seek out their services. Their aura of prestige partly stems from the inclination to presume that.
Edited by Naomi Hirahara, a book on Japanese gardeners featured numerous anecdotes of Japanese individuals who were inept at gardening. “There are numerous accounts of Japanese individuals who were terrible at gardening,” remarked author Naomi Hirahara, but it wasn’t as if they possessed some innate horticultural prowess. Many of these immigrants actually hailed from agricultural backgrounds, and this assumption overlooked their challenges.
“Some people used the stereotype to their advantage, saying that Hirahara’s father was an American, even though he specialized in Oriental gardening and handed out business cards.”
Thousands of Japanese Americans formed the Southern California Gardeners’ Federation in 1955, which organized picnics, published a newsletter, hosted conventions, and provided health insurance.
The membership of the federation had shrunk to around a thousand because most of the full-time work members, about 100, remained only due to health insurance. However, the co-op closed in March. A perk of the membership was access to the Tokyo Little depot, where the shelves were loaded with essentials like specialty hand shears or pesticides, gloves, fertilizers, and sprinkler parts.
President Yasunori Arakaki, the former co-op, expressed, “Everyone agreed that it’s time to come together.” The federation itself estimates that another 20 years will pass before it is gone.
The youngest members of the federation are in their 40s. They envision a different future for their children, but there are only a few third-generation gardeners. Often, the gardeners brought their children on the job to encourage them to aspire to something else.
Elderly gardeners like Makoto Shirasawa claim they have remained in their profession because working feels more tolerable than a life of inactivity.
Said Shirasawa, a 72-year-old individual, expressed, “My personal belief revolves around the notion of continuously progressing. It is highly likely that I will never engage in retirement. Engaging with the outdoors brings me joy, as I have no desire to spend my time confined to a chair, passively observing television.”
Shirasawa has been working in this line for more than four decades. When he left Kagoshima, Japan, he didn’t know what he envisioned. He imagined it as a charming country, and he was young when he realized how vast America was.
He purchased equipment and an aged vehicle, and gardening appeared to be a feasible trade. He held a part-time position at a nursery and studied horticulture in Pomona, California. Additionally, he took English language classes and spent three years picking strawberries on a farm in Torrance.
He has asked a couple of clients to park his truck far away from the house. While attempting to calm down her noisy dog, a woman sprayed him with a hose. Additionally, he has shouted at him or insisted that he tidy up the yards of his customers’ neighbors. He has numerous memories of that harsh treatment. Similar to family, some of his clients treat him with kindness.
Said Shirasawa, “I still feel wounded by my own sense of self-worth.” “It’s somewhat degrading. The Japanese landscaper is becoming increasingly rare, but that’s the direction things are heading because I don’t endorse this profession. I understand how challenging it is, and we are not treated with any esteem. I don’t want to expose my employees to that demeaning treatment.”
In the Crenshaw area, Hamada, the gardener from Mid-City, highlights them as he navigates his truck during his rounds — a miniature bonsai tree over there, a juniper shrub right here.
He explains that agriculture does not come naturally to the Japanese, as it was taught naturally. After exiting the truck, he pulls on a pair of gloves. He pulls up to a house adorned with red amaryllis and ivory calla lilies.
“He states,” regarding vegetable gardens, “Even during our time in school they instruct us on the art of pruning the tree,” During our childhood, we observed our father and grandfather tending to the yard.
Half a century ago, his fellow issei convinced him to take up gardening. Upon his arrival in America at 21, he found employment at a Fresno farm, where his task involved harvesting fruits.
The workforce of large Latino immigrant rates has brought down. Yardwork has become devalued, with gardeners being forced to focus on quantity and hustle. It is no longer considered a luxury and often landlords and homeowners with shrinking budgets are looking for crews to “mow and blow”.
Hamada jerks the starter cord of the mower until it sputters and roars, then pulls and pushes it across the grass, creating diagonal lines. There is no sign of his earlier delicateness here, as the blazing sun awaits him and other houses.
When he puts on the blower, he immediately becomes a cloud of white noise and rushing blades of grass.
Once, a lawnmower worth $1,200 was forcefully taken by someone carrying a gun. However, the cost of the equipment continues to increase. The earnings from this task are minimal, as there are approximately 30 clients. This activity is performed once every week, earning a total of $50 per month for a half-hour of work. After completing the task, he finishes for the day.
“I used to warn my friends’ kids about this,” Hamada says. “Hey, you don’t study hard, you’re going to become a gardener.”.
Hamada, the neighbor who lives next door to Japan, stands out for planting a native plant – the sago palm king. However, he plans to retire one day and take care of only his own garden.
“It’s approximately 120 years old. It doesn’t appear aesthetically pleasing.”
A lady emerges from the adjacent residence.
The woman seems perplexed, but she still smiles. The place also seems crowded. Save it. If you had purchased it at this store, it would have cost you around $6,000. He calls her over to the plant and gestures, saying, “You need to shape it up and trim it.”
Hamada climbs back into his truck. He shakes his head.
It is unlikely that anyone will attend to this matter in any manner, considering our unfortunate fate. This is a customary Japanese approach. The sole aspect that saddens me is this.