Iva Toguri DAquino

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Tokyo Rose

Iva Toguri, more commonly known as Tokyo Rose, (1916–2006) was the first woman in the United States to be tried and convicted for treason. American prosecutors accused her of being "Tokyo Rose," an infamous Japanese-American radio personality who broadcast Japanese propaganda intended to demoralize American troops stationed in the Pacific during World War II.

Although Toguri did indeed work for Radio Tokyo during the war, her profession was by circumstance rather than by choice, and her later prosecution has come to be viewed as persecution. Charged with eight counts of treason, she was convicted in 1949 on only one count and was sentenced to ten years in prison. She was found guilty despite the fact that no written or recorded evidence existed to prove her guilt. Throughout her highly publicized trial, and in subsequent years, she adamantly proclaimed her innocence as well as her loyalty to the United States. She eventually received a presidential pardon.

Ironically enough, accused traitor Iva Toguri was born on the fourth of July, specifically on July 4, 1916. Born in Los Angeles, California, she was the second of four children of Jun and Fumi Toguri, Japanese immigrants who operated a small import business.

Though she was a nisei, a Japanese term that indicates the first generation born to parents who have left Japan, Toguri's childhood reflected the typical middle-American experience. She was popular in school, attended church, became a Girl Scout, played on the high school tennis team, took piano lessons, and enjoyed hiking. She liked to listen to swing music and popular radio programs such as "The Shadow" and "Little Orphan Annie."

Her father wanted his family to become as Americanized as possible. He discouraged his children from learning to speak or write Japanese. Intent on having his family assimilate into the American culture, he even forbade his offspring to use chopsticks. The Toguri children were raised as Methodists and grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, enjoying a comfortable middle income lifestyle. Iva Toguri flourished under her father's influence. A caring child, she took care of her mother, who was disabled by diabetes. She was also responsible and mature. After high school Toguri attended Compton Junior College and then entered the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA), graduating in 1941 with a bachelor's degree in zoology and ambitions of practicing medicine.

Became Stranded in Japan

Toguri's trajectory toward negative notoriety began in 1941. That year her family learned that a relative in Japan, her Aunt Shizu, was seriously ill. As Toguri's mother was too sick to travel, Toguri was sent by her family to visit her aunt. Toguri did not have a passport, but the U.S. State Department gave her a certificate of identification that allowed her to travel. She left the United States for Japan on July 5, 1941, the day after her 25th birthday.

When she arrived, she immediately had trouble adjusting to the Japanese society. She could not speak the language, found people to be rude, and disliked the food (especially rice). In a letter home she wrote, "I have finally gotten around to eating rice three times a day. It's killing me, but what can I do?"

Toguri's aunt soon recovered, but Toguri had unwittingly placed herself in a precarious situation. The world's Allied powers were coming up against the Axis powers. Tensions were running high between the United States and Japan, and in Europe, Hitler's army was on the march. As Toguri could not read Japanese, she was not able to keep abreast of world affairs as reported in local papers. However, by November of 1941, she had become fully aware of the mounting international crisis and had decided to go home. She was to sail on December 2, but passport problems forced her to miss her ship.

Only five days later, on December 7, 1941, "Day of Infamy," Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States officially entered World War II. Toguri now found herself stranded in Tokyo with nearly 10,000 fellow Japanese-Americans. Japanese officials considered her an enemy alien, and they demanded that she renounce her U.S. citizenship. She adamantly refused and asked to be interned with other foreign nationals, a request that the government denied because of Toguri's gender and her Japanese heritage. The government also denied her a food ration card, which later led to her near starvation. In addition, because of her enemy status Koguri endured constant surveillance and even harassment by the Kempeitai, Japan's military police.

Her troubles compounded when her aunt and uncle turned Toguri out of their home because of her pro-American sentiments. Essentially all alone in a hostile environment, Toguri had to struggle to survive. She scrambled to find work, and eventually found positions as a piano teacher and later as a typist at the Domei News Agency, where she transcribed English-language news broadcasts. Through her Agency work, she learned that her family had been placed in a Japanese-American internment camp in the United States. Later, she would learn that her mother died during relocation.

While working at the Agency, Toguri found a sympathetic friend in Felipe d'Aquino, a Portuguese national with a Japanese heritage who also became trapped in Japan during the war. After she became ill from malnutrition, he loaned her money to cover her hospital expenses. To repay d'Aquino, Toguri took on a second job with Radio Tokyo, typing English-language scripts written by Japanese officials for broadcast to Allied troops. Through this job she made another friend: Major Charles Cousens, who had been a famous radio personality in Australia before the war. Cousens had been captured by the Japanese in the Philippines and was forced to produce a radio propaganda show, "Zero Hour," intended to harm the morale of Allied soldiers.

When Radio Tokyo officials wanted to add a woman's voice to the "Zero Hour" show, Cousens recommended Toguri. She joined the broadcasting lineup in November of 1943, calling herself "Orphan Ann," a broadcast name that subtly suggested her status as an American refugee. During her broadcasts, which lasted 20 minutes each day, Toguri played popular records and spoke to the Allied soldiers, whom she also considered "orphans." As Toguri's approach suggests, the intent was to subtly and playfully undermine Radio Tokyo's propagandistic message. The nuanced delivery and double entendres went over the heads of the Japanese officials, who felt Toguri was an effective broadcaster.

The Myth of "Tokyo Rose"

In 1945, while still working for Radio Tokyo, Toguri married d'Aquino and moved in with his family. That same year World War II ended, but Japan's defeat would provide Toguri with little cause for celebration. Subsequent events in her life would lead to personal tragedy and a travesty of justice.

After the war, a myth circulated about the existence of a so-called "Tokyo Rose," supposedly a treasonous, English-speaking female broadcaster in Japan who taunted American soldiers stationed in the Pacific. Reporters searched the defeated country, hoping to secure an exclusive interview with this shadowy, notorious broadcaster. However, they discovered that several women worked as on-air personalities for Radio Tokyo, although none called themselves "Tokyo Rose." Indeed, a "Tokyo Rose" never existed. In his introduction to Masayo Duus's 1979 book, "Tokyo Rose: Orphan of the Pacific," Edwin O. Reischauer, the American Ambassador to Japan from 1961 to 1966 and a scholar at Harvard specializing in East Asian affairs, wrote, "A mere wartime myth, Tokyo Rose was to become a disgrace to American justice." Even before the war had ended, the U.S. Office of War Information concluded that the name "Tokyo Rose" was only a G.I. invention. Moreover, the Office reported that U.S. counterintelligence monitors who listened to Far East radio broadcasts 24 hours a day never heard the name even mentioned. But at the time, ambitious reporters were unwilling to accept the apparent truth. The myth had become too big and they did not want to loose a potential "scoop."

Reporters then offered a reward to anyone who could help them track down "Tokyo Rose." Subsequently, a Radio Tokyo employee named Kenkiichi Oki, who had married one of the other English-speaking Japanese broadcasters, indicated that Toguri was "Tokyo Rose." Of course, Toguri denied that she was "Tokyo Rose," as no such person existed. However, two reporters, Clark Lee of International News Service and Harry Brundidge of Cosmopolitan magazine, offered her $2,000 if she would admit that she was "Tokyo Rose" and sit down for an exclusive interview. Toguri accepted the offer, after her husband convinced her that an exclusive interview might force other reporters to leave her alone.

Arrested in Japan

On September 1, 1945, Toguri did the interview. To receive payment, she needed to sign a statement that said she was "Tokyo Rose." She complied, somewhat blithely, but at the time she didn't realize that the subtly coerced gesture would later lead to treason charges, or that the reporters would characterize the interview as her "confession." U.S. Army officials took notice, and on October 17, 1945, they arrested Toguri and placed her in a six-by-nine-foot cell in Sugamo Prison, where her treatment was abusive. She was only allowed to wash every three days (and curious civilian visitors were allowed to watch her emerge from a shower naked); guards kept her cell light on until she agreed to sign autographs, and she was only allowed one 20-minute visit a month with her husband (she was incarcerated for a year). While in prison, she learned that her mother had died.

Soon, the press had characterized this confinement as the "capture" of the infamous "Tokyo Rose." However, six months after Toguri was imprisoned, the U.S. Army reported that no evidence indicated she had committed treason during her broadcasts—that is, she didn't identify names and locations of Allied units, warn of attacks, broadcast any military secrets, or engage in any similar activities that could have been officially designated as treasonous. As such, no charges were brought against her. Still, Toguri remained in prison, as the military feared a public and political backlash if they set her free. She was finally released on October 25, 1946.

The following year, she became pregnant. Wanting her child to be born in the United States, Toguri applied for a passport, but her request was hindered because she lacked proper documentation. The male child was born in Japan but died shortly after birth, in January of 1948. Soon after, the U.S. State Department enabled her to obtain a passport.

Tried for Treason

News of Toguri's imminent return created an uproar of protest in the United States. The American Legion was outspoken in its outrage. Walter Winchell, an influential newspaper columnist and radio broadcaster with strong right wing leanings, used his powerful position to call for Toguri's prosecution.

The sensationalistic publicity compelled the U.S. Justice Department to reopen the case. On August 28, 1948, Toguri was again arrested and then brought to America to stand trial, even though Assistant Attorney General L. Caudle had previously confirmed Toguri's innocence. Her on-air activity, he reported, "consisted of nothing more than the announcing of music selections." Toguri was taken to San Francisco, where she was held in a county jail for a year. Her trial began on July 5, 1949, only one day after her birthday (she was now thirty-three). She was charged with eight counts of treason.

During the three-month trial, U.S. prosecutors focused on the testimony of Kenkichi Oki and George Mitsushio, who had worked with Toguri at Radio Tokyo. Also, Toguri's signed statement, given to reporters and claiming that she was "Tokyo Rose," came back to haunt her. Still, the government's case was not very strong. Nine out of ten reporters covering the trial even predicted that Toguri would be acquitted.

Even the jury was not totally convinced that Toguri should be convicted. After they reported that they were deadlocked on a decision, the judge presiding over the case, Michael J. Roche, pressured them to reach a verdict. Finally, on September 29, 1949, they returned a guilty verdict on one of the eight counts, a decision that came as a surprise to observers. Years later, one juror who wanted to vote for acquittal, John Mann, told the Washington Post and the CBS news program 60 Minutes that he felt pressured by Roche to return a guilty verdict and he said that he wished he had "had a little more guts to stick with my vote for acquittal." Roche later admitted his own bias in the case, revealing that he had believed that Toguri was guilty from the beginning of the trial. Also, in a 1976 interview with the Chicago Tribune, Oki said about his testimony, "We had no choice…. The FBI and U.S. Occupation police told us we would have to testify against [Toguri] or else they said Uncle Sam might arrange a trial for us, too."

Later in her life, during a 1976 interview with 60 Minutes, Toguri said, "I supposed they found someone and got the job done, they were all satisfied. It was eeny, meeny, miney and I was 'moe.'"

On October 6, Roche sentenced Toguri to 10 years in prison and a $10,000 fine. Further, he stripped her of her U.S. citizenship. She was sent to the Federal Reformatory for Women in Alderson, West Virginia, where she served six years and two months of her sentence before being released on good behavior. She was set free on January 28, 1956.

Received Presidential Pardon

After her release, Toguri settled in Chicago, Illinois, where she led a relatively quiet life, helping to operate a small import business that her father had started. But a great deal of activity went on behind this seemingly quiet facade. In the two years following her release from prison, Toguri successfully battled the U.S. government's attempts to have her deported. As early as 1954, when Toguri was still imprisoned, sympathetic parties filed petitions on Toguri's behalf for a presidential pardon. Nothing came of these efforts until 1976, after news reports and the pivotal 60 Minutes segment revealed the essentially false nature of the prosecution's trial testimony. Finally, on January 19, 1977, President Gerald Ford, in one of his last acts before leaving office, pardoned Toguri and restored her U.S. citizenship. Ford's action was supported by a unanimous vote of the California State Legislature. Toguri viewed the pardon as, in her words, "an act of of vindication." Further, she expressed a desire to simply get back to work and get on with her life. She took over her father's business after he died in 1972.

Still, she continued enduring consequences from the "Tokyo Rose" myth and its promulgation: She was never able to see her husband again, as d'Aquino had been forbidden from re-entering the United States after he testified at her trial. The couple reluctantly and legally separated, finally divorcing in 1980.

In her later years she reportedly developed a tough exterior—no other emotional response could make any sense after she was geographically separated from her mother's death during her family's unjust internment; was imprisoned in a foreign land that during another time might have recognized her as one of its own; lost a child during her enforced exile; found herself unwillingly divorced from her husband; and, most significantly, suffered persecution from a nation (the United States) whose values both she and her father had enthusiastically embraced. At the same time, the friends she had made in her later life described her as an elegant, literate, and engaging woman. Following her imprisonment and release, she reportedly enjoyed the low-key pleasures of quilting (a craft she actively engaged in) and music (she appreciated concerts presented at the Chicago Lyric Opera). Until her death she remained a productive member of her community. She died on September 26, 2006, at the Advocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center in Chicago, reportedly from natural causes. She was 90 years old. As a final injustice, in her printed obituaries the press continued identifying her as the notorious "Tokyo Rose," a convicted traitor.


American History, October 2002.

Chicago Sun-Times, September 28, 2006.

New York Daily News, July 3, 2006.

New York Times, September 27, 2006.

Washington Post, September 28, 2006.


"Death ends the myth of Tokyo Rose," BBC News, http://www.news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/5389722.stm (December 1, 2006).

"Famous Cases: Iva Toguri d'Aquino and "Tokyo Rose," FBI.gov, http://www.fbi.gov/libref/historic/famcases/rose/rose.htm (December 1, 2006).

"The Myth of Tokyo Rose," History News Network, http://www.hnn.us/articles/461.html (December 1, 2006).

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Tokyo Rose

During the fight with Japan in World War II, Allied (mostly American) fighting men in the Pacific were assailed with Japanese radio propaganda broadcast from radio stations throughout the Japanese empire. Many of the broadcasters were women, and they began to be known by the term "Tokyo Rose." The American Office of War Information (OWI), based on a study of the Japanese propaganda broadcasts, concluded that none of these women referred to herself as Tokyo Rose; the OWI considered the name "Tokyo Rose" to be "strictly a GI invention."

The various "Tokyo Rose" broadcasters spread different types of propaganda. Some of the woman broadcasters taunted the Allied soldiers by implying that their wives and sweethearts back home were being unfaithful to them. Although the United States Foreign Broadcast Information Service (FBIS) did not pick up any Japanese broadcasts which predicted specific military movements, some soldiers later claimed that "Tokyo Rose" announcers would identify Allied units, predict Japanese bombing raids, warn soldiers who were about to go into battle that they would be cut to pieces, and make otherwise demoralizing remarks.

Some of the Japanese broadcasts were less blatant than this. There was one Tokyo-based program, known as Zero Hour, which consisted of musical numbers, readings of letters from Allied POWs, and some news. A woman DJed the musical portions of the program; the woman interspersed the music with brief, and generally innocuous, commentary. The woman DJ on "Zero Hour" was an American named Iva Toguri (later d'Aquino). Though she never referred to herself as "Tokyo Rose" in her broadcasts—her moniker was "Orphan Ann"—she ended up being assigned the role of Tokyo Rose.

Iva Toguri was born in the United States to Japanese parents. In 1941 she was in graduate school, studying to be a doctor, but she left the country for Japan to take care of a sick aunt. Although she was a native of the United States, she had problems getting a passport and had to travel without one. After Pearl Harbor, the war stranded her in Japan. While seeking work to support herself in Japan, Toguri got a part-time clerical job at NHK, the government radio service. She was noticed by Charles Cousens, a POW who had served with the Australian army and who had been ordered by his Japanese captors to make radio propaganda aimed at the Allies. Cousens—who was later cleared of treason charges by Australian authorities—claimed that he was trying to sabotage the "Zero Hour" program by making it useless as propaganda. As part of that plan, Cousens claimed, he hired Iva Toguri because she was anti-Japanese and had a bad radio voice.

While she was working for Japanese radio, Toguri helped out many Allied POWs who were interned in the Tokyo area, giving them food and expressing pro-American sentiments. At the end of the war in 1945, the newly-married Iva Toguri d'Aquino did not seem to regard herself as a traitor, and she was willing to talk to the American press about her activities.

Following the war, two Hearst reporters looking for the famous "Tokyo Rose" were led to d'Aquino, who signed a contract with one of the reporters giving various Hearst enterprises the exclusive rights to her story. In return, d'Aquino was promised $2,000 (which for various reasons she never got). In the contract, d'Aquino identified herself as "the one and original 'Tokyo Rose"' and gave numerous autographs identifying herself as "Tokyo Rose." D'Aquino was stretching the truth, and it soon lead her into serious trouble.

American authorities held d'Aquino in a Japanese prison for nearly a year while investigators tried to determine whether her broadcasts on behalf of Japan amounted to treason. Released in 1946 for lack of evidence, she faced a renewed campaign to block her return to the United States in 1947. The American Legion and broadcaster Walter Winchell did not want the traitress Tokyo Rose to be a free woman in the United States, and they campaigned for a reopening of the case. In 1948, Attorney General Tom Clark directed that d'Aquino be tried for treason.

D'Aquino was brought from Japan to San Francisco, where she was tried in 1949. Of the eight charges against her, the jury found her guilty of only one charge. According to the jury, she claimed in one broadcast that the Japanese had won the battle of Leyte Gulf (which they had not) and she allegedly taunted Allied soldiers about this imagined defeat. D'Aquino received a ten-year sentence and, as a convicted traitor, she was stripped of her American citizenship. After spending eight years in prison, d'Aquino was released in 1956. The United States commenced deportation proceedings, but dropped them in 1958. D'Aquino went to work in her family's store in Chicago, which she was still running in 1998.

Beginning around 1974, the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) took an interest in d'Aquino's case. The JACL believed that d'Aquino had been a loyal American who had done what she could to assist American POWs, who had taken a job as a disc jockey and made innocuous broadcasts, and who had been targeted by unscrupulous journalists and prosecutors who were trying to transform her into the mythical "Tokyo Rose." Media reports sympathetic to d'Aquino appeared in 1976. The jury foreman at her trial told 60 Minutes that he thought d'Aquino was innocent of all charges. Articles in the Chicago Tribune indicated that two of the witnesses against her had lied. (Later, documents acquired through the Freedom of Information Act indicated that the two witnesses had made statements to the FBI in identical language, raising the inference that they had been coached.)

The JACL received support from other important quarters. The California legislature, several municipal governing bodies, conductor Seiji Ozawa, and the American Veterans Committee all endorsed a pardon. Influential Japanese-American politicians joined the campaign, particularly S. I. Hayakawa, who was soon to become a republican senator from California and who had access to President Gerald Ford. In January 1977, just before his term of office came to an end, President Ford pardoned d'Aquino. The pardon restored d'Aquino's civil rights, including her American citizenship.

—Eric Longley

Further Reading:

Chapman, Ivan. Tokyo Calling: The Charles Cousens Case. Sydney, Hale, 1990.

Duus, Masayo, translated from the Japanese by Peter Duus. Tokyo Rose: Orphan of the Pacific. New York, Kodansha International, 1979.

Harper, Dale P. "Personality: American-born, UCLA-educated Tokyo Rose Was Convicted of Treason Against the United States." World War II. September 1994, 8, 67-69.

Howe, Russell Warren. The Hunt For "Tokyo Rose." New York, Madison Books, 1990.

Uyeda, Clifford I. "The Pardoning of 'Tokyo Rose': A Report on the Restoration of American Citizenship to Iva Ikuko Toguri." Amerasia. Vol. 5, 1978, 69-93.

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(b. July 4, 1916) Radio Tokyo broadcaster during World War II.

In October 1945, General Douglas MacArthur's Tokyo headquarters arrested Iva Ikuko Toguri d'Aquino, a program host on Radio Tokyo, which broadcast Japanese propaganda to Allied troops during World War II. Ambitious and at times unscrupulous reporters referred to her as "Tokyo Rose," the name given by American soldiers to all female broadcasters for Radio Tokyo. The name has since been associated primarily with her. D'Aquino spent the next year in jail, treated as a Japanese national despite her American citizenship. Her ensuing legal journey highlights both the continuing prejudice faced by Japanese Americans after the war and the paranoia concerning disloyalty in the United States during the early years of the Cold War (1946–1991).

Toguri had traveled to Japan in 1941 to visit a dying aunt and to see her parents' native land. She left the United States without a passport, a decision that would cause insuperable problems when she attempted to return home before and during World War II. Trapped in Japan after hostilities commenced, Toguri found work in Radio Tokyo's business office. At Radio Tokyo, two Allied prisoners of war, Major Charles Cousens of Australia and Major Ted Ince of the United States, asked Toguri to read scripts for a radio program called Zero Hour. In wartime Japan, such a "request" was in reality an order. Thus Toguri became "Orphan Ann," host of the program. Cousens and Ince secretly assured her that their program would focus on entertainment in an attempt to soften anti-American propaganda. Toguri, who had been providing Allied prisoners of war with food and accurate news, refused persistent pressure from the Japanese secret police throughout the war to renounce her United States citizenship and even maintained her American citizenship after marrying Felipe J. d'Aquino, a Japanese-Portuguese with Portuguese citizenship, in 1945.

Although thirteen other female announcers had broadcast in English during the war, only d'Aquino was arrested as the fictitious "Tokyo Rose." Both the Army and the Justice Department initially decided not to pursue treason charges after lengthy investigations determined that d'Aquino had only introduced music on the program. In 1947, however, d'Aquino's plans to return to the United States prompted protests from the popular radio personality Walter Winchell, the American Legion, and the Native Sons of the Golden West. These

protests convinced Attorney General Tom Clark to re-open the case. Bowing to public pressure, Clark eventually decided to prosecute d'Aquino, despite reports from subordinates that recommended dropping the case and the fact that Ince was never tried.

Tom DeWolfe, a Justice Department lawyer, presented the government's case, a task made more difficult by the perjury of a key prosecution witness. Wayne Collins, an advocate for many Japanese Americans involved in key World War II cases, represented d'Aquino. The trial took place in the context of the "fall" of China and the Soviet Union's successful testing of an atomic device. After three months of testimony, an all-white jury convicted d'Aquino of one of the eight charges of overt acts of treason she faced. The judge then stripped her of her citizenship, sentenced her to ten years in jail, and fined her $10,000. With the help of Collins, d'Aquino successfully contested a deportation order upon her early release for good behavior in 1956.

Japanese Americans largely ignored d'Aquino's story until the early 1970s, when Dr. Clifford I. Uyeda and later the Japanese American Citizens League and Senator S. I. Hayakawa of Hawaii campaigned for a pardon that had been rejected by the Eisenhower and Nixon administrations. Positive media coverage of d'Aquino's case, most prominently on the television program 60 Minutes, added to the growing support for a pardon. President Gerald R. Ford granted d'Aquino a pardon on January 19, 1977, his last day in office.

The story of "Tokyo Rose" highlights Cold War paranoia and racism. D'Aquino's trial and conviction resulted largely from the Truman administration's concern to avoid appearing soft on disloyalty. Public pressure from influential individuals and groups in addition to, as Stanley Kutler puts it, "bureaucratic inertia, timidity, and, at times, chicanery" exacerbated these concerns (The American Inquisition, p. 29). Furthermore, the Japanese-American community's reaction to d'Aquino's case reveals the continued existence of racism in the postwar United States. The trial demonstrated that Japanese Americans, victims of exile and incarceration during the war, continued to face postwar prejudice. Japanese Americans provided scant support for d'Aquino during the trial, perhaps preoccupied with rebuilding their lives after their wartime losses or fearful that the trial might add to their already considerable problems. The increasing willingness of Japanese Americans to support d'Aquino in the 1970s, on the other hand, suggests an increasing psychological comfort on the part of Japanese Americans, who no longer sought to avoid the subject of World War II and its effects on their lives and community.


Daniels, Roger. Asian America: Chinese and Japanese in the United States Since 1850. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1988.

Duus, Masayo. Tokyo Rose: Orphan of the Pacific, translated by Peter Duus. New York: Kodansha International, 1979.

Kutler, Stanley I. The American Inquisition: Justice and Injustice in the Cold War. New York: Hill and Wang, 1982.

Yoo, David K. Growing Up Nisei: Race, Generation, and Culture among Japanese Americans of California, 1924–1949. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2000.

Uyeda, Clifford I. "The Pardoning of 'Tokyo Rose': A Report on the Restoration of American Citizenship to Iva Ikuko Toguri." Amerasia Journal 5 (1978): 69–94.

Allan W. Austin

See also:Enemy, Images of; Japanese Americans, World War II.

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Tokyo Rose


During the Second World War, both Allied and Axis nations engaged in a multi-media propaganda battle. Leaflets, posters, film reels, and radio broadcasts were all used to spread misinformation and undermine the morale of enemy troops. Japanese Radio Tokyo broadcast an English language, anti-Allied program entitled the "Zero Hour." The program featured popular music and propagandist war reports read by women with alluring voices. While Radio Tokyo employed over 20 women on the program, the voices became collectively known among Allied soldiers as Tokyo Rose.

Though the moniker Tokyo Rose was popular legend, after the war, details of the Japanese Radio Tokyo propaganda program emerged that brought legend to life. An investigation revealed that Allied prisoners of war, under orders of their captors, produced "Zero Hour." The women who voiced the programs were mostly Japanese citizens. One of the women, however, was an American citizen. This changed the nature of the military investigations from a general inquiry to a treason case.

Iva Ikoku Toguri was born in California in 1916, a firstgeneration American citizen of Japanese descent. She attended the University of California, Los Angeles, and graduated in 1941. Shortly after graduation, Toguri went to Japan at her mother's request to care for a sick relative. Leaving in haste, she neglected to obtain an official passport that would aid her return to the United States. While in Japan, the Japanese military launched an attack on the American Pacific fleet at Pearl Harbor, bringing America into the Second World War. After war was declared on Japan, Toguri was denied her request to return to the United States. She refused to renounce her American citizenship, and was often placed under surveillance by the Japanese government as a possible enemy operative. Toguri spoke very little Japanese and from 1941 to 1943, she went to school to learn the language. She later took a job as a typist for Radio Tokyo in 1943. Because she knew English, Japanese executives at Radio Tokyo recruited her to voice the "Zero Hour" program. Toguri broadcast under the name Orphan Ann, and worked on the show until the end of the war.

Several war correspondents sought to find and interview the illusive, legendary, Tokyo Rose after the war. A

colleague led reporters to Toguri, after accepting money offered by reporters for the interview. Assuming she had committed no crime as the broadcasts were directed and produced by prisoners of war, Toguri spoke freely with journalists about her role on Radio Tokyo. Conflicting reports exist about her reception of the nickname Tokyo Rose. The press about Toguri, along with the detailed notes of a couple of reporters, was brought to the attention of U.S. Army counter-intelligence.

United States Army authorities arrested Toguri in 1945. In 1948, she was brought to the United States and transferred to officers of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. After a five-year inquiry, Toguri was tried as the infamous Tokyo Rose on eight counts of treason. Acquitted of seven counts of treason, she was found guilty on the remaining charge of "speaking about the location and destruction of ships." She was sentenced to ten years in prison and a steep monetary fine. When released in 1956, she immediately sought to clear her name. She applied twice for a presidential pardon, but was denied.

The matter of Tokyo Rose disappeared from the public eye until a journalist in the 1970s probed for further information on the case. A series of articles revealed several incongruencies in the inquiry and trial of Toguri. Prosecutors argued that Toguri fled the United States before the war and was possibly a Japanese intelligence agent, but scant evidence was offered. Testimonies of several Allied service members regarding the radio broadcasts were revisited, and Japanese records regarding the Radio Tokyo psychological warfare campaign were unearthed. Interviews of some of Toguri's wartime colleagues corroborated her earlier claims that she sometimes smuggled supplies and food for the Allied prisoners also employed on the "Zero Hour" program. Further interviews and documents revealed that information regarding ships and troop positions that Radio Tokyo broadcast was available in wartime America on short-wave radio and was selected by the POWs forced to work on the program because it was not immediately sensitive to the Allied war effort. The controversial treason case was never reopened by courts, but Toguri was issued a pardon by President Gerald Ford, in one of his last presidential acts, in 1977.



Duus, Masayo, and Edwin O. Reischauer. Peter Duus (trans.) Tokyo Rose: Orphan of the Pacific Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1979.


Propaganda, Uses and Psychology
World War II

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Iva Toguri D'Aquino, 1916–2006, American citizen of Japanese descent, best-known of some dozen women who, during World War II, made English propaganda broadcasts to American troops on Radio Tokyo; b. Los Angeles as Iva Ikuko Togura. Seductive-voiced, playing popular American tunes, and attempting to demoralize the troops, the women were collectively nicknamed "Tokyo Rose" by their American listeners. The daughter of Japanese immigrants, she was visiting an aunt in Tokyo and stranded there after the attack on Pearl Harbor (1941), and from 1943 to 1945 she worked as a radio announcer. After the end of the war, she was arrested, but was released from U.S. custody without being charged in 1946. Her case was reopened in 1948, and she was tried and convicted of treason in 1949, becoming the only woman convicted of treason in the United States. After serving six years in prison she was released on parole. D'Aquino denied any disloyalty during her trial, and no evidence was presented of any treasonous broadcast; critical testimony against her was later shown to be false and coerced. She was pardoned by President Gerald Ford in 1977.

See studies by M. Duus (1979) and R. W. Howe (1990).

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Tokyo Rose the name given by American servicemen in the Second World War to a woman broadcaster of Japanese propaganda; the name in fact covered a number of women broadcasting Japanese propaganda, although one Japanese-American, Iva Toguri, was tried and convicted of treason after the war. Later evidence suggested that she and others had in fact tried to subvert the propaganda effort, and in 1977 she was pardoned by President Ford.

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Tokyo Rose: see D'Aquino, Iva Toguri.