Misplaced Histories
On February 19, 1942 President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 that authorized the deportation and incarceration of over 100,000 Japanese Americans living on the Pacific coast, placing the internees into relocation sites across the United States in designated military internment areas. These military internment camps were active from 1942 to 1946 and represent the distance the government and the public are willing to go in the midst of war and fear. Nearly seventy years later the memory of these events and the physical memorial sites still reflect the contested narrative public historians are struggling with. One of these internment camps was nearly lost to faded memories until a local high school teacher founded the Amache Preservation Society and the internment site entered the National Register in 1994.
See the local high school teacher speak about the Amache Relocation Center history
The Arizona Daily Star recently published an article on the Amache Japanese-American Relocation Center along the Colorado border near Granada. For over a half-century the Amache internment camp was recognized by a single sign along a lonely back road. A single tattered sign was all that remained - the camp itself was nothing more than fields and farmland where once 7,000 Japanese-Americans were imprisoned. Even today, such a significant event holds little sway with larger, more visible national parks. Associated Press journalist Russell Contreras writes in his article “If you aren’t careful on this southeastern Colorado rural highway, you might easily pass the signs leading to a site that marks a dark and unjust episode in U. S. history.” (See the full article here) Contreras article
This is the "hard-to-miss" sign to the Amache camp
In A Misplaced Massacre Ari Kelman suggests “the act of remembrance, no matter how painful, will strengthen the foundation upon which the nation is built.” But what does it mean when a memorial is forgotten or neglected? Contreras describes the current Amache camp: “Behind the dry bushes sit lonely concrete slabs that once housed makeshift homes, a school, even a dancehall.” Today, the only standing object is a recreated guard tower. This neglect and lack of federal funding captures the long forgotten and painful memory that Kelman eludes to in her monograph. Among those forgotten memories was an imprisoned cartoonist for Walt Disney, a WWII Medal of Honor recipient, a camp newspaper, the Granada Pioneer, and even a football team. Yet Contreras communicates this neglect, “Visitors might drive around confused if not for the informative billboards at the camp's entrance explaining the locations and showcasing photos from Amache daily life…[and] tour the 600-acre camp with narrowly paved roads.” Contreras suggests this “is a place to wander, meditate and take an occasional photo. The rest is left to the imagination.” But is this the vision of the Amache camp designers or is this a result of forgetfulness? Despite the long forgotten memory of Amache in the last few years the past has returned thanks to the continuing cooperation of the National Park Service along with the Friends of Amache, the Amache Club, the Amache Preservation Society, and the Town of Granada who have produce a Comprehensive Interpretive Plan and Conceptual Development Plan outlining the interpretive, educational and site goals for Amache. An essential element of their plan includes returning buildings to the site, primarily barracks and other iconic structures. The plan also describes the need for a visitor center and additional educational and interpretive opportunities for site visitors. This collaboration among ancestors, local history organizations and the NPS reminds us of how, like the Sand Creek site, can serve as a model for successful partnerships representing painful national memorial sites as Kelman hopefully writes “perhaps the massacre will no longer be misplaced.” Such local engagement of historical sites contextualizes what events in American history are remembered and which are neglected and provides guidance on how public historians may continue to advance the field.
Likewise, perhaps the memory of Japanese-American internment camps and Native American historical sites will finally get the exposure and funding they deserve as Kelman ponders “whether visitors to the Sand Creek site are ready to broach such difficult topics, to reassess their homeland’s character and fate, remains unsettled.” A primary concern to public historians is the National Park Service and its role in preserving and interpreting American history. What does A Misplaced Massacre have to say about this? What is the role of public historians or the NPS in memorial sites? See the NPS site on public history sites - NPS
Are we making progress in the realm of properly representing example of painful American history?
Also, check out popular culture representations of the Sand Creek Massacre in the film starring a young Dustin Hoffman and a heavy metal song by Iron Maiden grimly titled "Run to the Hills."
1. Russell Contreras. “Japanese-American Internment Camp Opens Forgotten History.” Associated Press, http://bigstory.ap.org/article/19220e114d6d4ba0847ce91748f02ecb/japanese-american-internment-camp-opens-forgotten-history
2. Ari Kelman, A Misplaced Massacre:Struggling over the Memory of Sand Creek (Harvard University Press, 2013), 4.
3. Contreras, “Japanese-American Internment.”
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Kelman, A Misplaced Massacre, 279.
7. Ibid.



