couldn't afford the prices charged at the black-market stalls which sprang up in railway centers, like Shinbashi, Shinjuku, and Shibuya. The more fortunate correspondents were allocated houses by SCAP, though some had a long wait for their homes.
Among these family types were Denis and Peggy Warner. Denis was an Aussie from Tasmania who suffered injuries when his ship was attacked by a kamikaze pilot in the closing stages of the war. While in Australia to recover, he met and married Peggy, another war correspondent. Denis arrived in Tokyo in December 1945, missing the end of the war, and roomed at the Press Club billet with Eddie Tseng, of the Central News Agency.
With most of the stories about Tokyo already covered, Denis spent his early weeks traveling around Japan for the Singapore Straits Times, from Kyoto and Osaka to Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Kagoshima. Later, as chief correspondent for the Australian Associated Press, Denis became chief of the Reuters bureau in Tokyo, supervising coverage of the last stages of the Tokyo war crimes trials.
Peggy arrived in Japan almost a year later, with their six-week-old daughter Shelley. The Warners lived at the Marunouchi Hotel, assigned to Commonwealth personnel. For nine months the baby lived "in her wicker basket on top of a dressing-table" at the hotel while they waited for a house to be allocated to them by the Americans. "When we drew House No. 427 in Gotanda, we were overjoyed to find that a tiny scrap of Fuji appeared over the top of a camellia bush," says Peggy. However, the boiler system was unreliable, running hot when they wanted cold, and vice versa. As a result, "We found it necessary occasionally to take baths and meals at the Press Club. . . . It was in this establishment that I met wives of other correspondents who have remained friends over the years, including Mabel Handleman, Marian Walker, and Betty Tseng."
Tom and Helen Lambert also lent the Warners their home for a time during their stay at the Marunouchi. The life the Warners led was more typical of the married correspondents.
Peggy still has a cookbook given her by a Press Club member. "I use it now, fifty years later, when I need a recipe for Fuji-san Delight, a cake covered in ice-cream and meringue and browned in an oven. It was sprinkled with coconut (snow on the mountain) and topped with a cherry (fire in the crater)."
Several problems shook up the Club during the year. One was the expulsion of David Conde from Japan. Conde, a former SCAP employee, had been working as a stringer for Reuters and INS. But eight months after his change in status, GHQ notified him that his application for accreditation had been denied and that he must therefore leave the theater. Both the Executive Committee and International Committee decided that the Club had no legal status in the matter, but Conde petitioned for a meeting, which was called on March 21. The Club decided to ask GHQ to give Conde an opportunity to clear himself of the charges. But GHQ said Conde had been exceedingly active in the Communist Party of Canada for three years, and it could not stay the expulsion order.
A second problem involved Japanese Manager Fujita. The trouble arose after the new administration was installed in July 1947. For the first time, an Executive Committee took office for a one-year term to June 30, 1948. Headed by George Folster of NBC as president, its other members were Chang Jen-Chung of the Central Daily News, first vice-president; Ralph Chapman, the New York Herald Tribune, second vice; with Hessell Tiltman of the Daily Herald and Burton Crane of the New York Times re-elected treasurer and secretary, respectively.
According to Kotaro Washida, he and Fujita were worried as to how the Club would cover its soaring expenses. Washida suggested that if the Club could not obtain the help of the army, the Japanese government might assist. The prime minister at the time was Tetsu Katayama, head of the Japan Socialist Party. Fujita and Washida met Socialist Party Secretary General Suehiro Nishio at Tokiwaya, the Japanese restaurant across the street from No. 1 Shimbun Alley. Fujita explained the circumstances, and asked if the government could earmark ¥3 million per month for the Club. Nishio replied in the affirmative, but said the Club must apply in writing for financial assistance.
Certain that the Club members would be happy, Fujita reported the gist of the talks to President George Folster. Folster blew up, according to Washida, and said, "We have to protect the freedom of the press. We cannot accept such money." He then fired Fujita on the spot. Washida felt bad because he had been partially responsible, and the two of them had been doing what they thought best to save the Club.
For the Japanese, the second half of the year was beginning to look up. First, Nihon University swimming sensation Hironoshin Furuhashi, eighteen, cheered the nation when he set a world mark of 4:38.8 in the 400-meter free-style, swimming in a 50-meter pool. Because Japan had not yet been accepted as a member of the International Swimming Federation, his time was not recognized. But news of this amazing feat, wired to papers around the world, drew incredulous stares, and such snide statements as, "What do they use for a pool in Japan?"
In September, Shizuko Kasagi, a bouncing, prancing bundle of energy burst on the entertainment scene and teamed up with composer Ryoichi Hattori on the Japanese version of the boogie-woogie, which was sweeping the States. Shizuko had all Japan dancing her "Tokyo Boogie-Woogie," which became an instant hit, and followed up with other song-and-dance versions which she took on a tour of the States.
Elated at the success of the Nodo Jiman Amateur Hour, the Japan Broadcasting Corporation borrowed another popular American radio program, "Twenty Questions," and began a weekly series called "Nijuu-no-Tobira," or Twenty Doors. It was another winner. So much so that NHK invited a group of Japanese-speaking foreign correspondents to appear on the show. Lee Chia of Central News Agency, Leon Prou of Agence France Presse, John Rich of NBC, Hans Pringsheim, and a few others participated without "ringing the bell," which only happened when the answer was wrong. John Rich says they were "No-bell prize winners, and I still have the silver cigarette case given to me by NHK."
Writing news stories is far from the whole game, as Earnie Hoberecht demonstrated when he taught the Japanese how to kiss. In a story carried in Newsday, the novelist James Michener told about the correspondent who was with Earnie on the same boat shelling the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido. Both saw the shells head for what they thought probably was the Japanese island. The other correspondent cabled his story home, but nobody read it because "Earnie really passed a miracle. He told of the shells whining through the air, cutting furrows across the rice paddies and ricocheting through grass-roofed villages. He described old men in wooden sandals fleeing the fires. The carnage was terrible and the effect upon Japanese morale devastating. If you're ever going to bomb anything, let Earnie describe it."
None of this surprises anyone who worked under Earnie at the UP Tokyo bureau. His first advice to a newcomer was: "When you write your lead, think of the headline the editor's going to put on it. Then go to it!" When UP sent you out on a story, you could count yourself lucky if AP had only three men to your one. And you'd better bring home the bacon! In other words, "Keep a tight hold on expenses, but don't
