“We need to define our future,” says Erich Nakano, executive director of the Little Tokyo Service Centre, which played a major role in getting First Street North approved.
Outsiders, Nakano says, have played an outsize role in determining the direction of the neighbourhood, a centre of Japanese-American life in Los Angeles that is celebrating its 140th anniversary in August.
Built on nearly 2½ acres (1 hectare) of land that was once a part of Little Tokyo’s post-war streetscape, levelled in the 1960s and left to languish as a city-owned car park, First Street North is a US$168 million mix of affordable and supportive housing, a park and commercial space.
The site will include a memorial honouring Japanese-American veterans of World War II built by the Go for Broke National Education Centre, which helped develop the First Street North project with the Little Tokyo Service Centre.
Their efforts, including more than 10 years of negotiations, culminated in 2018 in a series of collective actions – street protests, a petition, art exhibitions – that wrestled final approval from city officials.
First Street North is the latest example of Little Tokyo leaders leasing property from the city and developing projects that they hope will benefit the community.
Their work is taking place as broader changes sweep through Little Tokyo. Once an immigrant hub, this vibrant downtown district is a tourist destination where a 121-year-old mochi shop coexists with sneaker shops and weekend crowds search for ramen and the perfect Instagram moment.
This vitality, however, is challenging what Little Tokyo has traditionally stood for as an ethnic community defined by its history.
“This neighbourhood is not just for Japanese-Americans, but for Asian-Americans and for Los Angeles,” says Kristin Fukushima, managing director of the Little Tokyo Community Council, one of the organisations backing the First Street North project.
“We could just give up and let the forces of free market and capitalism wreak destruction on this community, but we still have stuff that we can fight for.”
Preservation has never been a strong suit for Los Angeles, where landmarks and neighbourhoods have been torn down or repurposed with fleeting regard. Economic exigencies are often more urgent than a deference to the past, but Little Tokyo is trying to have it both ways.
It may be Little Tokyo in name only and not have anything to do with the Little Tokyo that we know
At retailers like Molu Yobi, Monkey Pants and Sanrio, business is brisk for the latest multicoloured backpacks, plushies and Hello Kitty merchandise, while the gift shop Rafu Bussan still finds customers for imports like sake glassware, Hasami porcelain and Kaga dolls.
Here, as elsewhere, internet commerce is forcing turnover. Little Tokyo Arts and Gifts and Mikiseki, a watch and jewellery repair shop, have closed, and Little Tokyo Cosmetics is now a boba joint.
Underlying the turnover is a wider demographic shift. Over the decades, immigration from Japan has slowed, while families have put down roots over four or five generations. For many locals, the South Bay, with its profusion of Japanese supermarkets and restaurants, has eclipsed Little Tokyo for everyday shopping and eating.
Some Little Tokyo businesses that served Issei and Nisei – Japanese immigrants and their American-born children – have closed or are struggling, while others have found a way to evolve and thrive.
Mikawaya, where community icon Francis Hashimoto invented mochi ice cream, closed in 2022 after more than a century. A block away at Brian Kito’s Fugetsu-Do sweet shop, established by his grandfather in 1903, lines form to the pavement for the mochi and manju.
Landlords are trying to adapt. Tony Sperl, owner of the building where Suehiro Café was, leases adjacent space to a vintage clothing shop and tattoo parlour.
Sperl initiated the eviction more than a year ago, claiming non-payment of rent. Suehiro’s owner, Kenji Suzuki, denies the accusation, saying the cheques were sent but never cashed.
For a time, there were rumours that Suehiro was to become a marijuana dispensary. Sperl denies that and says the new tenant is a restaurant featuring Asian cuisine.
“What is the future of Little Tokyo?” he asks. “You might as well ask me what is the future of LA. I don’t know. The city is changing so much.”
Suzuki, who has since relocated his restaurant a half mile away, also wonders what lies ahead for the community he grew up in. “It may be Little Tokyo in name only and not have anything to do with the Little Tokyo that we know,” he says.
As the third generation of his family to own the mochi shop, Kito is taking the long view. “There has always been gentrification, and if the community is strong enough and works together, it will manage it,” he says.
When the National Trust for Historic Preservation named Little Tokyo as one of America’s 11 most endangered historic places in May, it hoped to bring attention to the fragility of the community.
Mark Masaoka, 70, a member of Nikkei Progressives, is concerned that the community is at risk of “hollowing out”, of becoming a shell, less connected to Japanese and Japanese-American culture.
“A community is more than a collection of businesses,” he says. “It is a social and neighbourhood fabric [comprising] interrelationships of people who own and work at these businesses.”
Little Tokyo will never be what it once was … But it does represent a long-term piece of Los Angeles’ history, and we don’t want people to forget that we are here
For some, losses like Suehiro trigger memories of a much larger trauma. In 1942, Little Tokyo residents left their homes and businesses behind as the US government forced them and 125,000 others of Japanese ancestry into remote incarceration camps.
“This sense of displacement – and not having control – is a driving force for why people are fighting to preserve Little Tokyo and want to have an active say over its future,” says Nakano of the Little Tokyo Service Centre.
Two of the Service Centre’s recent projects are a community gymnasium called the Terasaki Budokan, which was completed in 2021 after 30 years of planning, and First Street North, scheduled to open in 2026.
Both projects were funded through state and federal grants, low-income housing tax credits, developer fees, conventional loans and private donations.
Looking ahead, the Service Centre is hoping to develop one of the last open parcels in Little Tokyo, a city-owned car park across the street from the Japanese American National Museum.
At a time when many are mourning the relocation of Suehiro, First Street North has become a lesson for other communities seeking to take control of their destinies.
From his office in the Little Tokyo Service Centre, Nakano acknowledges continuing challenges, including “commercial property turnover and homelessness”. But he knows what can be accomplished when community members advocate for themselves, citing the reparations won in 1988 for those incarcerated during World War II.
Not only does the development hit the marks for affordable housing – apartments for low-income families, unhoused veterans, people with Aids – but it hopes to attract legacy businesses with discounted rents. Suehiro’s owner has expressed interest.
Similarly, the Little Tokyo Community Impact Fund, started in 2019 to buy properties that could be leased below market rates, is proof of a willingness to dream big, he argues.
In the aftermath of the pandemic, the fund has raised about US$800,000, which, according to fund president Bill Watanabe, is a strong start but still short of its US$2 million goal.
Watanabe, 80, who was born in the Manzanar incarceration camp, in California, and was the founding executive director of the Little Tokyo Service Centre, remains committed.
“Little Tokyo will never be what it once was. We can never go backwards,” he says. “But it does represent a long-term piece of Los Angeles’ history, and we don’t want people to forget that we are here.”
