Tag Archives: camera

America, Cars, Cooking, Family, Food, Photography

Hamburgers and a ’63 Merc

March 27, 2014 Mustang.Koji 38 Comments

MM burger — Marilyn Monroe eating an old-fashioned hamburger at a drive-in hamburger stand. Photo by Philippe Halsman.

Nearly all Americans would agree that hamburgers are the All-American icon. A simple grilled ground beef patty, salted and peppered, slathered with mayo, mustard and ketchup then sandwiched in a plain bun.

At least that’s how I know them. Oh, hold the pickles, please.

Now, us kids that grew up watching “Bewitched” and “I Dream of Jeannie” have given birth to a generation that has taken a simple thing and made them into $15 gourmet, fancied-up, mushroom-covered (expensive) cuisine. Do you think I like Elizabeth Montgomery and Barbara Eden? Drool…

But I don’t know if I like the “change”.

Back to this in a minute, folks.

The fancy hamburgers – not the drool.

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Dad had always owned Fords when he could finally afford getting a car. I guess that’s where I get my Ford passion from.

Aunt Eiko holding me in front of my dad’s Ford Consul automobile. If you are reading my past stories about WWII, you will know that only the occupying Americans could afford to buy a car. Her husband was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal. Occupied Japan, Tokyo, July 5, 1955.

Enoshima Beach, Tokyo - April 1957 — My dad’s ’57 Ford Fairlane parked on Enoshima Beach, Tokyo. I’m thinking it was a dark green. April 1957.

After leaving Japan for the last time in the late ‘50’s after the Occupation ended, my pop bought his first new car stateside in 1963 – he was 44 years old. It was a two door Cascade Blue 1963 Mercury Meteor custom hardtop; a king of obscurity to say the least, but to a kid of about ten, it was Flash Gordon’s rocket ship. Unlike Hillary, it was easy to love this car.

1964 or 1965 / Dad's new 1963 Mercury Meteor — On a road trip to Chicago in 1964. I’m still holding onto my Fujipet camera with dad’s 1963 Mercury Meteor behind us. This may have been in Utah.

Don’t get me wrong. It wouldn’t get a choice spot if valet parked. I say wouldn’t as my old man couldn’t afford valet, let alone a family dinner out. But to me, the rocket ship had a chrome finish AM push-button radio – turn the dial on the right, find a station, pull out a button, then push it back in to set it. Trouble is I did it a dozen times each time I got into the car. But all I cared about was KFI 640 AM, the Dodgers’ station. The golden voice of Vin Scully… and Fairly, Gilliam, Wills and I forget who played third. They were World Series champs that year.

Six adults could get into this rocket ship with room to spare – eight of us little Japanese folks and a dog. The cargo hold in back swallowed up my Sears JC Higgins bike in one gulp with enough space leftover for Frank Howard. (I saw him hit the scoreboard in right field with a home run.)

Unless my aging grey matter is dissolving at warp speed (maybe it is), there were ash trays with shiny covers in each armrest…and this was for the back seats. It was a favorite depository for my Bazooka chewing gum but I kept the wax covered cartoon that came with it.

Pop kept it for quite some time. I passed my driver’s license test in it on my 16th birthday. I got a 96 only because she claimed I never looked in the rear view mirror. Poppy cock. I always look in the rear view mirror for cops. Even back then.

And as it was the only car we had back then, I also drove my date to one of my senior proms in it (I went to two.). And the answer is, “No,” if anyone was wondering…but I’m sure she was disappointed. Well, maybe not.

The four-wheel drum brakes were spectacular…not. Instead of rubber meets the road, it was like rubber met the world’s supply of Vaseline while fighting the pull to the left… and this was at 25 mph. Steering? An oil tanker’s captain would do well. Turn the wheel a lot; see the slight change in direction a few seconds later. Pat Brady and Nellybelle turned better – and that was out in the desert on sand.

meteor engine — The Mercury Meteor’s 260 cid V-8.

I overhauled the epoch 164 hp 260 cid V8 sometime around 1976 in our garage. At 13 years of age, she had become an old girl. She had become a V6, meaning it had lost compression in two cylinders. I remember setting zero lash, then three-quarters turn of the ratchet for the hydraulic lifters during the overhaul. The distributor was the biggest headache, of all things. It was like extracting an impacted molar and only after using copious amounts of Liquid Wrench in place of laughing gas did it finally come out. “Older” Blue Oval guys know what I’m describing.

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Back to today’s elegant hamburgers and change.

Instead of the push-pull AM radio, my youngest son – who was seven when I bought it – similarly discovered my ’08 Mustang GT had a “My Color” dashboard light feature. Now I know how my pop felt as my son forced me to experience every color of the rainbow while driving at night – every time. It was like being at an all-night disco club.

Bazooka bubble gum and ashtrays are no more but treasure hunters will be pleased after exploring the map pockets. No disappointments there. I promise… especially after my little Cake Boss had sat in the back. Latex gloves are highly recommended before exploring.

Overhaul it? After all, my GT’s got a 281 V8, only twenty-one more cubes than my pop’s…but it pumps out a magnificent 505 hp thanks to her Roush supercharger and Carmen pulley. Hell, I’m afraid to change spark plugs. Who would imagine in 1963 there would be a TSB on just how to R&R spark plugs?

roush blower — My Roush supercharger and gizmos.

And unlike my pop’s ’63 Merc which ran on simple mechanical principles (but threw physics principles out the window for the so-called braking), the computing power in my Mustang would cause Einstein to strike a pose like Captain Morgan.

And today’s stunning braking power is the true reason for seat belts – it compassionately keeps your head from being continually used to redesign the windshield. The aftermarket Wilwood six-piston disc brakes I installed with slotted and cross-drilled rotors exacerbates the stop-on-a-dime tendencies… which is a good thing.

270768_1922679229805_1326818011_31876806_6107098_n — The Wilwood Six Piston disc brakes on my Mustang.

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So it appears the delicious, basic hamburger of the 1960’s has been brought into the 21st Century. Kids that watched Elizabeth Montgomery and Barbara Eden fooled with the wonderfully simple ground beef and bread formula to give us today’s foodie gourmet burger…and we can still listen to Vinny’s golden voice, to boot. Glorious.

And well, with 505 hp at the crank instead of 164 hp, it’s hard to complain. Neither do my kids when they hear the whine of my Roush supercharger. They like to scream. But it’s a shame my pop’s ’63 Mercury Meteor won’t be swept into anyone’s museum.

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I guess technology has its benefits.

I’ll take a gourmet burger in the end after all.

Pass the Heinz ketchup, please.

At least that hasn’t changed.

Art, Children, Family, Kids, Nisei, Photography

Passing the Baton

February 9, 2014 Mustang.Koji 42 Comments

20140208_171502 — My twelve year old son Jack at the Seal Beach Pier. He just began taking pictures at this time and I wanted to capture that moment. I guess that’s the photographer in me.

With all the researching, translating and documenting I’ve done on our family history during the past several years, I’ve come to the realization I was living in the past. And as time marched by, I wanted more time…but now, that time has gone.

I reflected on the near future; in the past month, things have changed. Things that cannot be undone. And I realized, too, that in addition to passing on what I’ve learned about our family history through these blogs, I need to pass the baton on as well for tomorrow. Small things.

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve held a camera in my hand… from the time I was perhaps eight years old. I vividly recall looking down on the ground glass of my dad’s Rolleiflex TLR. And I know it was my grandmother or aunt who sent me a “Fujipet” 120 film camera from Japan as a gift. It had a plastic lens. There were two levers, one on either side of the lens; you pressed one down with your left finger to cock the shutter. Then with your right finger, you pressed the other lever “to take the shot”. I took a bazillion shots during our 1964 road trip to Chicago and burned through a lot of 120 film. I don’t think mom was too happy.

image0-109b — I’m in the center; dangling from my neck is the Fujipet 120 film camera. The “model” on the left is my cousin Jane. Chicago, circa 1964.

When I was twelve, I spent a summer in Tokyo; I was born there. My Aunt Eiko got me my first “real” camera: a Canon Demi-S. It shot 35mm film but in “half-frame”. In other words, if you had a 36-shot roll of film, you would get 72 shots – plus about four or five more at the end. I loved it. It even had a built in light meter, a soft case and a wrist strap. It went everywhere I went. I even bought yellow and red filters. I used it to take photos of the TV set when Armstrong landed walked on the moon…but none of the images came out because I wanted to use my new fancy-schmancy electric strobe with a DC cord. I got great pictures of our RCA color TV, though. LOTS of great pictures of our TV set. But on one – just one – you can BARELY make out Armstrong as he stepped of the Lunar Module.

While I did take one class in photography, everything else was self-taught through the years. Trial and error. That means lots of moolah down the drain…literally. I had a full darkroom in my parent’s house at one time. I must have developed and processed over a thousand rolls and printed thousands of pictures. While I did win a few contests in sports photography, I never learned the critical things that define a pro…like my bud Alan Miyatake (but I did best him in ONE contest. LOL).

Since becoming a young adult, I’ve always been the “photographer”… taking pictures at events, parties, of this and that… I don’t know if I was any good at it but people always seemed to ask me to take photos. Perhaps because I took them for free. But finally, I took snapshots at my own daughter’s wedding…and not someone else’s daughter for a change.

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As I was taking my kids back to their mother’s two weeks ago, my twelve year old son surprised me by asking if he can have a “real” camera. Totally out of the blue but I was happy. He wanted to take pictures like his old man.

So yesterday, we headed towards the nearby beach; he wanted to take pictures of the sunset! I handed him my (getting old) Canon DSLR and monopod and while in the car, I gave him a crash course on shutter speed, f/stops, and ISO.

But he asked, “But don’t you just push the button, Papa?”

So with temps in the high 50’s (cold for us here) and a chilling wind, I gave him some basic instructions and I left him pretty much alone.

He took on his own challenge.

Here are a few of his photos; sure, I edited them a bit but he did darn well for his first time.

Must be in his genes.

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As I watched Jack from a distance in that chilling wind, feelings of being alone and lament swirled. Sadness that time has surged by with tomorrows dwindling. It felt as if I was looking at myself… fifty years ago… with that Fujipet camera with a plastic lens dangling from my neck.

20140208_173952 — My son Jack must be thinking of his next shot…

I hope he continues. The family needs a photographer.

America, 第二次世界大戦, Family, Friends, Nisei, Photography, World War II

The Photographer for My Daughter’s Wedding

January 28, 2013 Mustang.Koji 51 Comments

“Just photos,” as they say… Photos of my beautiful daughter’s wedding a couple of weeks ago.

Well, with just a little writing, perhaps, with a smidgeon of our American history tossed in.

In my other blog posts, there has been mention of the “internment camps” in which one-half of my dad’s family was imprisoned in the US during WWII.

Internees were not allowed to bring in cameras amongst many other things deemed to be a threat to national or camp security – like knives, guns, tools…and cameras.

However, at one camp called “Manzanar” (where my Aunt Shiz and cousins were imprisoned), one brave soul braved the tight security measures and actually made his own camera…in secret. He then took prohibited photographs during his interment. His name was Toyo Miyatake… (Note: there is a super documentary on Toyo Miyatake called “Toyo’s Camera“: http://www.toyoscamera.com/. One contributor was George Takei who played “Sulu” on “Star Trek”. Takei was also imprisoned during the war.)

toyoscamera — Copyright Toyo Miyatake Studios

The actual camera he made is shown below; it is still in the possession of the Miyatake family:

In what I believe is a Signal Corps official photograph, the Toyo Miyatake family is pictured in their Manzanar barracks:

This is one of the more well-known photographs taken by Toyo Miyatake at Manzanar during WWII:

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Jump forward to today.

Toyo Miyatake’s grandson is Alan Miyatake; my 11 year old son sneakily grabbed my EXPENSIVE DSLR and snapped this photo of Alan and I chatting at my daughter’s wedding. The gent on the left is Alan. We are the same age……but I do look YOUNGER, of course. Just kidding, Alan!

We’ve known each other for over five decades now; we attended the same church. When we played B-ball in the church league, he played guard. When he let loose a shot, his form reminded me of a graceful ballet. He was good… and his photography was fortunately much better. (Smile)

He shot my weddings…both of them, unfortunately. And there was no one else I was honored to have shooting my daughter’s. Both of us were joking before the wedding that we were both extremely grateful for auto-focus…

The following proofs are Alan’s work where noted.

Thanks, Alan…but I still challenge you in sports photography! LOL

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