Tuesday, February 14, 2017

When Grinnell College Built a Foundry...

The 2014 announcement that Donaldson Company was closing its Grinnell plant provoked much unhappiness, and of course led to lost jobs. It also meant that, as the company moved to clear title so that it could sell the property, the Grinnell City Council had to pass several measures to clear up complications governing ownership. Reading the text of council resolutions, I had trouble figuring out exactly what had happened: why did city right-of-ways run through the factory property? And how had the city come to own any part of the big tract south of town? I had always assumed that Donaldson had built the factory and had owned the land from day one. It turns out, however, that the story is more complicated than that, and it began with a most unlikely scenario: it was Grinnell College that built the factory—and not for Donaldson. With financial support from townsfolk, the College purchased the land and built a foundry to lease to Marshalltown's Lennox Furnace Company, thereby making the College an industrial landlord. Only after Lennox gave up its lease in 1951 did Donaldson enter the narrative. The rest, as they say, is history!
Grinnell Herald-Register, August 27, 1945, p. 1
As background to this story, it bears remembering that World War II had deeply impacted the college. Recruitment for the armed forces had seriously diminished student enrollment, obliging the administration of President Samuel Stevens (1900-1966) to seek placement of an Officers Candidate School and an Army Specialized Training Program on campus, bringing lots of young men and government money with them. Moreover, in an era when the country was collecting tin cans to recycle for the war effort, philanthropic giving to the college had plummeted. As the war finally concluded in 1945, therefore, the college looked not only to restore enrollment to pre-war levels, but also to discover means to improve the institution's overall revenue stream. College treasurer Louis V. Phelps (1885-1969), along with President Stevens, played major roles in this effort.
Grinnell College President (1940-1954) Samuel Stevens (1947 Cyclone)
Sometime in the summer of 1945 Lennox Furnace Company approached the college with an idea that had first hatched in the brain of D. W. Norris (1876-1949), owner of the Marshalltown Times-Republican and Lennox Furnace Company (today's Lennox International). In a hand-written letter that survives in the archives, Norris proposed that Lennox donate money to the college; that the college solicit contributions from Grinnell townsfolk; and that the college erect in Grinnell a foundry that it would lease to Lennox on favorable terms. The proposal was unusual. Although over the years the college had owned various commercial and agricultural properties, largely a function of donations and bequests, building and owning a factory was something new. How did this idea get traction?
D. W. Norris (1876-1949)
(photo from undated brochure, Lennox: A History)
As Norris explained in a letter of August 11, 1945 to Phelps, the college should expect cooperation from Grinnell townsfolk who would be glad to see new jobs added to the city's work force because of the proposed foundry. Indeed, Norris pointed out, Lennox had successfully followed this plan elsewhere. "When we built a foundry in Washington Court House, Ohio," Norris wrote, "the citizens raised $20,000, which was to have been paid over to us at the rate of 4% of our annual pay roll [sic]. I think that Grinnell citizens would have done that much to get a pay roll [sic] because a small town of 1800 people at Galeton, Pa. has raised $15,000 to be turned over to us on the same terms as at Washington Court House, Ohio." With a population almost three times the size of the Pennsylvania hamlet's, Grinnell could be expected to raise at least that much, he figured. In Grinnell, however, rather than have Lennox collect the return, the company was willing to have "Grinnell [College] get the bonus from citizens...and I am hoping that the promise of a foundry pay roll [sic] in Grinnell [would assist] the college to add to its endowment funds."
Louis V. Phelps (1885-1969) (1947 Cyclone)
From this point, events moved quickly. In late August the Grinnell Herald-Register published a drawing of the proposed foundry (see above), and announced that the college trustees had approved the plan. A building of some 24,000 square feet (later increased to 36,000 square feet) was imagined, "up to the minute in all details of its construction." More to the point, the new industry was "expected to give employment to upward of 100 men." Grinnell's city fathers were sufficiently encouraged to donate some $30,000 to the effort, thereby justifying Norris's confidence in what the town could afford. An article in early September's Herald-Register confirmed previous speculation about the land chosen for the project—the old county fairgrounds south of the city and adjacent to the Minneapolis and St. Louis Railroad track. By month's end, the sale of 32 acres—about eight of which were allotted to the new foundry—was complete. Almost immediately the college announced that building design was done, and that the Weitz Company of Des Moines—Rudolph W. Weitz (1901-1974) had joined the college board of trustees in 1944—would erect the factory, commencing construction immediately.
plat of property acquired by Grinnell College for Lennox Foundry
Courtesy of Grinnell College Special Collections, RG-DEV, Ser. 5.1, box 6
An interesting sidelight to the plan was the attention that Norris and his officials gave to the layout of the property. Having the Minneapolis and St. Louis Railroad build a spur to connect to the factory was a perhaps obvious corollary of the plan, the better to assist installation of foundry equipment and shipping of foundry output. For the same reason, the building itself was to be set back from East Street, situated close to the railroad. But what to do with the rest of the property?

Norris and his secretary, Edward C. Booth, had plenty of suggestions, all written into a draft plat, a copy of which survives. The drawing imagined dividing the property into sixteen lots, the largest of which, lot 15—7.87 acres—was reserved for the foundry. Three other roughly equal lots—one north, one south, and one northeast of the foundry—together consumed 7.6 acres. Most surprising was the proposal of dividing the property to the east—between the foundry and East Street—into ten residential building lots, each measuring 100' x 160'. An 80-foot right-of-way for a proposed east-west street was also written into the plan, this street intersecting with another right-of-way for a 60-foot-wide proposed north-south street. Anticipating how to make the proposed residential zone suitably attractive, Booth, in behalf of the Lennox company, proposed a series of restricted covenants.
Proposed set of Restrictive Covenants Governing Property on Which Lennox Foundry Was Erected (1946)
Courtesy of Grinnell College Special Collections,  RG-DEV, Ser. 5.1, box 6
Most provoke no surprise: one provision excluded "trailer, basement, tent, shack, garage, barn or other out-building" on the lots; another stipulated that "no dwelling costing less than $5,000" shall be allowed; a third required that each lot could contain only "one detached single family dwelling not to exceed two stories in height and a one or two car garage." Lennox even demanded that houses built on the corner lots of the north row of the subdivision face south, and those built on the corner lots of the south row face north.

College officials offered no amendments to these plans, but another covenant did draw attention. Paragraph D specified that "All lots in the Tract are intended to be used solely by the Caucasian race and no race or nationality other than those for whom the premises are intended shall use or occupy any building on any lot," excepting only "domestic servants of a different race or nationality employed by an owner or tenant." Sadly, covenants establishing racial exclusion were not unique to this time and place; today's news stories keep discovering more places where builders' covenants clearly aimed to guarantee white-only residents. To their credit, college officials declined to endorse this provision, a fact that Booth confirmed in a July 8, 1949 letter to Joe Rosenfield, the college trustee most directly involved in the project. Whether all the other covenants were filed is unclear; certainly no homes were ever built on the land east of the factory. Already in 1949, Booth could affirm that the "Foundry property is a beautiful place and a credit to both the College and the town."
Construction of the factory began hard on the heels of purchasing the property. The October 5, 1945 issue of the Scarlet and Black reported that ground had been broken the previous Monday. Two weeks later the campus newspaper confirmed that the College, as part of its deal with the Weitz Company, had provided the construction supervisor—Martin Erickson—with the "housemother's suite" in Gates Hall where he could reside and stay close to the project he was overseeing.

The following spring marked completion of the building, and Lennox began to move in its own equipment. As town boosters had hoped, the foundry did generate new jobs, and, as Lennox had hoped, its rent was tax deductible. The foundry began to pour iron in September, and was at full production before the year was out.
Des Moines Register, September 1, 1946.
The college remained owner of the land, and leased the building to Lennox. When the first lease expired in 1951, however, Lennox announced its intention of taking up the option to purchase the foundry and the land on which it stood at the price specified in the lease—$60,000. The lease required Lennox to exercise its option by July 31, but, when matters were delayed, Lennox requested—and received—an extension. Then, at the November 3, 1951 meeting of the College trustees, Joe Rosenfield announced that Lennox had sold the lease to the Donaldson Company of St. Paul, and that Donaldson would exercise the lease's purchase option. Accordingly, the trustees voted to authorize the sale.
Grinnell Herald-Register, November 26, 1951, p. 1
A November 26, 1951 article in the Herald-Register reported the news to the community—that the college would sell the property to Donaldson, who manufactured mufflers and air cleaners for trucks and farm equipment. The foundry would have to be re-fitted, but company officials were optimistic that by March, 1952 the plant would be operational, and employ 75-100 persons, no doubt provoking huge sighs of relief from Grinnell businesses. Lennox officials expressed gratitude to Grinnell and the College, and soon John Norris, son of D. W. Norris (who had died in 1949) and successor to his leadership of Lennox Industries (as the firm was renamed in the 1950s), took a seat on the Grinnell Board of Trustees, a tacit acknowledgment of the mutual gain that had resulted from this unusual deal.
Scarlet & Black, September 26, 1952
Meanwhile, the complex of lots platted at the time the College acquired the property gradually followed their own histories. Already in 1946 College trustees had approved the sale of Lots 1, 2, and 16 to W. J. Beeler, and in 1950 the College donated the southernmost section of the property to the Poweshiek County 4-H Fair, officials confirming appreciation in a letter to the College.

Ownership of the rest of the property found resolution in a series of decisions that began with Donaldson's acquisition of the Lennox Company lease. In a letter of November 21, 1951 from Richard Donaldson, Vice President for Engineering and Sales, Donaldson indicated that the company was exercising the option of purchase, and proceeded to include the legal description of what the plat identified as Lot 15. The College trustees, for their part, prepared a resolution, an undated copy of which survives, confirming the transfer: "The Trustees of Iowa College hereby sell and convey Lot 15 of the subdivision...to Richard H. Donaldson for the sum of Sixty Thousand and No/100 Dollars...."
Letter of Richard H. Donaldson to Iowa College Trustees,  November 21, 1951
Grinnell College Special Collections, RG-DEV, Ser. 5.1, Wills and Trusts, Box 7, "Foundry, 1944-51"
Since the whole Board of Trustees had approved the sale in a meeting earlier that month, events moved quickly, and Donaldson soon took possession of the former foundry and the lot on which it stood.

There remained in college hands, however, that part of the original plat intended for residential building—Lots 3-12 and the rights-of-way for the roads imagined to cut through this part of the property. For a few years nothing changed, but in 1958 trustees received word that the City of Grinnell would like to take ownership, intending to use the land for recreational purposes. Noting that the land now had an insignificant book value, trustees decided to donate it to the city. In a deed drafted in October (and again in November), 1958 the College deeded over to the City of Grinnell Lots 3-12, making specific reference to the 80-foot roadway that ran east-west from East Street. For reasons that remain unclear, the city did not formally act on the transfer until March, 1960, when the Grinnell City Council passed a resolution accepting the property. The College specified that the donation required the City to use the land for recreational purposes, although, despite the fact that the City resolution recognized this condition, no recreational use of this property was ever developed. Finally, as Donaldson's requirements expanded, the city transferred ownership of this last section of property to Donaldson, but neglected to vacate all the rights-of-way built into the original plan.
Resolution of Grinnell City Council, March 7, 1960 (2nd page, not reproduced here, provides signature and date)
Grinnell College Special Collections, RG-DEV, Ser. 5.1, box 6
When Donaldson opened its new plant in Grinnell in 1952, it was able to hire fewer than 75 men. Over the years, however, as the company's products prospered and the factory expanded, coming to encompass more than 200,000 square feet, employment soared, reaching a maximum of more than 200 employees in the first years of the twenty-first century.
Donaldson Factory in 1964 Before First Major Addition (Grinnell Herald-Register April 30, 1964, p. 1)
In the last decade of the company's existence in Grinnell, however, jobs at the plant gradually withered. Occasionally city officials visited Donaldson headquarters in St. Paul, seeking confirmation that all was well, that the company would continue to provide for Grinnell workers. But many of the economic forces working against Donaldson were beyond the reach of city officials, as new developments in air quality and automotive machinery bypassed Donaldson's main products. The 2014 announcement about closing the Grinnell factory, therefore, was not a surprise. And soon the St. Paul company was looking for a buyer for its soon-to-be abandoned plant in Grinnell. When a buyer was found—Langhals Enterprises LLC, Delphos, Ohio—attorneys discovered that the city had never fully cleared the rights-of-way from the original plat, and it was this difficulty that obliged the Grinnell City Council to make these amendments in its December 19, 2016 meeting.
Grinnell Herald-Register April 29, 2002 (special supplement)
Donaldson had prospered in Grinnell for more than half a century, and along the way had provided many more jobs than had Lennox in its brief, five-year history at the original foundry. Grinnell College, too, prospered. In a March, 1951 memo, college officials totaled the expenses for building the foundry and counted them off against total returns—gifts, rental income, and final sale price. When all the expenses were taken into account, the college calculated total cash receipts of just over $49,000; if the contributions of Grinnell businessmen were subtracted, the gain seemed much smaller—just over $19,000, which seemed modest in comparison to all the effort and expense involved.

But the worst days were behind the College; the war was now history, enrollment had recovered, and soon a new president would bring to campus a new vision and inspiration. The city of Grinnell was also looking forward. Among those contributing to a new economic vigor was Donaldson Company, whose Grinnell factory promised still greater job opportunities in future. All this success was the result of the surprising 1945 collaboration between Grinnell College, Lennox Furnace Company, and Grinnell businessmen that brought a college-owned foundry to Grinnell.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Japanese Americans Come to War-Time Grinnell...

Executive Orders are much in the news these days. The new administration in Washington has made surprisingly ample use of them, among other things barring immigrants from seven Muslim states. Executive orders do not enjoy an altogether illustrious past. Indeed, one of the most famous—Executive Order 9066—unfairly and arbitrarily ordered the internment of 120,000 Japanese Americans, among whom were many American-born citizens. Hastily uprooted from their homes and businesses in the western states, Japanese immigrants and their descendants were sent to ten "War Relocation Camps." Grinnell was not one of those destinations, and in the 1940s had no resident Japanese or Japanese Americans. But, through the efforts of a Grinnell College alumnus and his uncle, Professor of Botany and Dean of the faculty, Henry Conard, four young nisei (second generation, America-born Japanese) arrived in Grinnell in May, 1942 to study at the college and make Grinnell their temporary home. Over the next few years another ten or so Japanese Americans came to Grinnell on the same program, thereby continuing their educations and escaping the grim internment to which so many others were condemned. The stories of Grinnell's nisei shine especially brightly now as Americans wrestle anew with a president's executive order that stereotypes racial and religious difference.
Scarlet & Black May 5, 1943, p. 1
The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941, pulled the United States into World War II, and sped up the militarization of the American economy. With the threat of yet another Japanese attack, this time perhaps directed at California or Washington, Japanese and Japanese Americans resident in the western states found themselves under suspicion. If Japan did attack mainland USA, people wondered, how would Japanese immigrants and their American-born descendants respond?

Although the likelihood of Japan launching another attack on the United States after Pearl Harbor was tiny, the Federal government—unable to do much military damage to Japan immediately after the immense losses at Pearl Harbor—gave the appearance of defending the country by ordering the forced resettlement of some 120,000 Japanese Americans resident in the West. On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt authorized the military to organize the abrupt collection of these people, most of whom were ultimately sent to one of ten internment camps. One of those camps (in Rohwer, Arkansas) took in the family of Grinnell's Dan Ogata, long-time pastor of Grinnell's First Presbyterian Church. Like many others in Grinnell, I first learned from Dan about the harsh conditions in the camps, whose closing was officially announced in December, 1944 (although the last camp did not close until 1946). After years of disgrace and the unfair expropriation of many of their possessions, victims of internment who were still alive in 1988 received an apology and some financial compensation from the Federal government.
Joseph Conard '35 (1911-1965) (1935 Cyclone)
A story less well-known concerns the young people among the affected communities who ended up escaping internment by enrolling at colleges and universities outside the zones outlined by the military. Thanks to the intervention of the American Friends Service Committee and one of its local officials in California, Joseph Conard (Grinnell College Class of '35), several Americans of Japanese descent—all born in the United States and therefore all American citizens—ended up at Grinnell College, where Conard's uncle, Professor Henry Conard, was able to engineer their admittance.
Barbara Takahashi (1926-1985) (1942 Roosevelt High School [Los Angeles] Yearbook)
In a letter of May 2, 1942 to his Uncle Henry, Joseph Conard reported that two young people had already secured government permits to travel to Grinnell: Barbara Takahashi and William Kiyasu. Young Conard waxed enthusiastic about Grinnell's generosity: "We cannot tell you how much we appreciate what you and Grinnell have done to help these students. We have had many good offers from [colleges in] the Middle West, but none equaling Grinnell's, with board, room and tuition for two students." As he pointed out, Grinnell's aid was crucial, because "the family of these people will not be in a position to earn additional money." Conard used the letter to advocate in behalf of a third student, Akiko Hosoi, and urged speed upon Grinnell so as to steal the march on evacuation of her family.
William Kiyasu (1923-2010) (1940 Lowell High School [San Francisco] Yearbook)
The College did respond promptly, with the result that Takahashi, Kiyasu, and Hosoi stepped off the Rocky Mountain Rocket at the Grinnell depot at 3:55 AM May 8. The college newspaper reported their arrival, and provided brief biographies of the newcomers: Takahashi had been a senior at Roosevelt High School in Los Angeles where she "led her class of 531"; Kiyasu was a sophomore at University of California, Berkeley where he was an honor student; Hosoi was also a student at Roosevelt High in Los Angeles, where she was ranked fifth in her class. The newspaper added that a fourth student, Hisaji Sakai, a high school senior in San Francisco, was due soon.
Akiko Hosoi (1923-1988) (1942 Roosevelt High School [Los Angeles] Yearbook)
How might Grinnell receive these young people? Joseph Conard had warned his uncle that Kiyasu, at least, had heard "frightening rumors of racial prejudice in the Midwest," and therefore he and the young arrivals might "show undue nervousness because of the great uncertainties they face." To their credit, Grinnell students seem to have welcomed the newcomers. Indeed, when in 1943 Iowa State Senator C.V. Findlay proposed a resolution–the so-called Findlay Memorial–that would have barred "the privileges of higher education to a group of young people, citizens by virtue of their birth in this country, whose loyalty and patriotism are rendered doubtful because of their racial extraction...," the college newspaper responded vigorously. An elegant editorial ("The Foe Within," Scarlet and Black, March 19, 1943, p. 2) used the presence on campus of the Japanese Americans to reject Findlay's proposal.
Beginning of editorial, Scarlet & Black, March 19, 1943, p. 2
"You see, Mr. Findlay," the editorial says, "we happen to know whereof you speak. We've been living for a year with what you call 'a serious problem.' We have Japanese-American students on Grinnell campus.... To us they have been, are, and shall continue to be, kids we go to school with." They have been, the writer continued, "an integral, valuable, enjoyable part of our student body...They live in our dorms, and we like them. They are part of our social life, and we don't want to lose them."

Turning the whole project against Findlay, the editorial observed that "In Grinnell we have not been smitten by any differences. We've forgotten about them. They [the Japanese American students] have not made us conscious of race...[It is you who] have brought race consciousness into the field of necessary attention. We have been reminded. We don't like it. We think such reminding renders you a man who endangers this nation, this people, this ideal we are seeking, and which we call America."

The same issue of the college newspaper reported on resolutions approved by both students and faculty. "We believe," the student resolution began, "that Japanese-Americans of good reputation should have the same privileges afforded other American youth. Any attempt to return Japanese-American students to relocation centers constitutes a threat to the democratic principles for which we are fighting." As the newspaper editorial had, the resolution also leaned on the college's experience with the Japanese American students who "have contributed equally to the welfare of our college life." The faculty resolution took a similar line: "We protest against the assumption that citizens are disloyal because of their 'racial extraction' as contrary to the fundamental principles of our nation in which people of all races constitute the citizenship."

Evidently, therefore, Takahashi, Kiyasu, and Hosoi found a generally welcoming atmosphere on campus. Indeed, Hisaji Sakai later remembered that, when he arrived at the Grinnell train depot May 10, 1942 at 3 AM, the entire freshman class was there to welcome him!
Hisaji Sakai (1925- ) (1942 Lowell High School [San Francisco] Yearbook)
Some years later, responding to inquiries from Grinnell student George Carroll (who completed an ACM summer research project on Grinnell's nisei students), Sakai remembered that Iowa was "refreshingly free of the virulent anti-Japanese sentiment that pervade[d] California.'" At the same time, midwestern unfamiliarity with Japanese could prove awkward. At a meeting with College President Stevens soon after arriving in Grinnell, Sakai learned that, because Stevens could not pronounce his first name, Stevens gave Sakai a new, easier-to-pronounce name: "Al." Consequently, for the rest of his time at Grinnell, Sakai was known as Al. Since both Takahashi and Kiyasu already had westernized given names, Stevens's christening might not seem so strange. And it bears emphasizing that several other nisei at the college—for example, Akiko Hosoi and Taduko Inadomi '47—regularly used and were known by their Japanese given names.

But if the college campus was generally welcoming and shunned racial prejudice, what about townsfolk? With increasing numbers of their young men and women in uniform, with the news regularly filled with reports of battles, of the dead and wounded, and with little experience with ethnic or racial difference, how did ordinary men and women in town treat the Japanese Americans they saw on the streets or on campus?

In a 2001 telephone interview with George Carroll, Kiyasu recalled that the town was far less welcoming. In his recollection, farmers held "a more menacing view of the Japanese," and, since the farmers were often in Grinnell on the weekends, Kiyasu and others learned to stay out of town then. Another respondent to Carroll's inquiries—Alden Matthews who lived in Gates Hall with Kiyasu—recalled that Kiyasu had once been refused a haircut from a barber in town. Takahashi told Guy Montag in the 1980s that she'd had "some rocks thrown at her," although whether she was being literal or metaphoric is unclear; elsewhere she reported having little experience with prejudice.

Overall the nisei recollections collected by Carroll and earlier by Montag contain little evidence of townsfolk hostility. And Grinnell's newspaper provides no reason to dispute these remembrances. When the first group of nisei arrived in town, the Herald-Register reprinted the college newspaper article, complete with basic biographical information of the first arrivals. So far as news reports can confirm, no one registered any objection to the arrival of these young people.

Nevertheless, readers of the newspaper might have registered surprise, given the general tone of reportage in these years.
Grinnell Herald-Register, May 7, 1942, p. 1
For example, the same issue that announced the arrival of Takahashi, Kiyasu, and Hosoi also contained a photographic reproduction of a letter "To the People of Iowa" from Iowa Governor George Wilson (who himself had once attended Grinnell). Taking note of Mother's Day, Wilson wrote that "The Iowa mothers are giving the treasured gems of their households for a service to humanity...The sending of their sons to meet the challenge to our life and our homes imposes a debt we can never repay...." Wilson urged Iowans to "Remember Mother's Day, and especially remember the service mothers, and comfort them as they follow their sons into the far lands that we and our children may know the blessings of liberty always." Of course, several of those "far lands" to which Grinnell youth were sent were defended by Japanese.
Grinnell Herald-Register, May 21, 1942, p. 1
Week in and week out, the town's newspaper fairly burst with war-related news, inevitably keeping the war foremost in readers' minds. In addition to periodic calls for recycling tin cans or for collecting paper for the war effort, and the invitations to subscribe to war bonds, the Grinnell paper also reported—in bold headlines—special events, like "War Activity Day," scheduled for June 10, 1942. A regular column of the newspaper was titled "With the Boys in Service," a place to report on letters received from soldiers, on wartime promotions or movements to new bases, and on injuries sustained or fatalities recorded. Even New Years wishes received a wartime dressing. In the final issue of 1942, published right before a new group of nisei students arrived in Grinnell, the Herald-Register greeted the New Year with the traditional image of a child—but this time wearing an army cap and saluting the "boys in service."
Grinnell Herald-Register, December 28-31, 1942
In these circumstances, townsfolk might easily have allowed the frenzy and anxiety of war news to overcome their better natures, and encourage them to vent their frustrations upon the American Japanese who were studying at the college. And apparently they sometimes did. Grant Gale, who taught physics at the College in these years and who had a nisei live with his family for a time, told interviewers in the 1990s that "There was an element in town that felt that...'the Japs' didn't belong" in Grinnell.  Gale recalled a neighbor who used to give their nisei student a hard time. But then still another neighbor rebuked the man: "'You lay off that Japanese kid...He's a citizen of this country,'" the neighbor said. So townsfolk had to wrestle with and reconcile their emotions and their consciences.

No doubt Takahashi, Kiyasu, Hosoi and the others for the most part kept to the campus, and therefore gave townsfolk little chance to express any hostilities they might have nursed. And the campus by all accounts proved to be vigorously welcoming. Carroll, however, in concluding his research paper on Grinnell's nisei, asserted that the American Japanese students "were treated differently, and perhaps defended virulently, due in large part to their race." The College community, he continued, "did not react to their racialized treatment by treating them without regard to their race."
Taduko Inadomi (1947 Cyclone)
Given the war-time environment, it seems unrealistic to imagine that Grinnell could somehow have ignored race, if that's what Carroll meant. As the 1943 Scarlet and Black editorial observed, the actions of government—not least the War Relocation Project—brought race to the foreground. But Grinnell managed to look beyond that discourse, and worked hard to provide a peaceful environment in which these talented nisei could prosper. This is how Grinnell's Japanese American visitors themselves remember their time here, as Taduko Inadomi ('47) wrote so movingly to George Carroll:
I shall always remember with gratitude Grinnell, its administration, faculty, and students for the help and encouragement they gave me. Grinnell nurtured me, not only academically, but socially and spiritually, at a very difficult time in my life. It had the vision and foresight to see beyond the hysteria and fears of the moment to help its students prepare for the post-war world.
As Americans confront a new round of fear and hysteria, remembering how in the depths of World War II Grinnell warmly welcomed this handful of young Japanese Americans may help encourage us to do likewise. 

As often happens, my inspiration for pursuing this subject came from a friend's suggestion—in this case from Jen Jacobsen, who reminded me of the nisei and their mention in Al Jones's Pioneering. Thanks, Jen!

There is much to say about these students, many of whom compiled outstanding records at the college, but there is not space here for all that detail. I should say, however, that in addition to the handful I mention by name in the post, the College hosted at least another seven or eight Japanese American students. Surviving records are sometimes confusing, so the list is probably not complete. Six of the group graduated from Grinnell (indicated in bold); the others left early, usually for financial reasons.
Janie (Yuni) Kobukata (1948 Cyclone)

Kenneth Kobukata (1949 Cyclone)

John Hatakeda
Akiko Hosoi
Taduko Inadomi '47
William Kiyasu '44
Janie (Yuni) Kobokata '48
Kenneth Kobokata '49
Katsuro Murakami
Hisaji Sakai
Barbara Takahashi '46
Gertrude Takayama
John T. Ushijima
Toshio Uyeda
Coolidge Wakai '49
Coolidge Wakai (1949 Cyclone)

Peter Oshima '47 actually entered Grinnell in 1937, before the war, and returned later to finish his work. Similarly, Barton Nagata '42 also enrolled at Grinnell before the war (1938). Neither was part of the effort to place students caught up in the War Relocation Act.