"If you had a flower shop we'd go and buy flowers for different occasions, and in turn you would come over eat at our place, bring your family over. "When I was a little girl I just knew that it was a community," she says. Sekizawa practically grew up and lived at the Atomic Cafe during that time, and saw the neighborhood gradually change around her. The cafe moved to the old brick building at First and Alameda in 1961, which became its home until the end. It was alright for me - I'm glad we're not on Yelp." Everything else was like, you know, I would eat when I can. "We were known for our chashu ramen - that was probably the only thing that was really good. "Hamburgers, foo young, chop suey - sort of like the old '60s type of food," as Sekizawa remembers. This kind of menu was the norm at many other Japanese-owned eateries of its day, like Quaker Dairy with a large African American clientele, and Sunrise Diner serving 15 cent chicken dinners.Īt the Atomic Cafe, the menu consisted of "Japanese Chinese American" food. The patrons were decidedly mixed and working class, perhaps on their lunch break from working on the railroads at the nearby Santa Fe Depot. The first Japanese-owned business in Los Angeles was a restaurant opened in 1884 on East First Street - not too far from where Atomic would be - which served not Japanese food but hearty American fare, like meat and potatoes and soup. In fact, this kind of integrated cafe culture was nothing new to Little Tokyo. It was a similar spirit of inclusiveness that spilled into the Atomic Cafe in its early years, as seen in photos taken at its original location. Some of these spaces became jazz and r&b clubs that attracted a racially mixed clientele - a rarity in those days when de facto segregation was rampant. After Executive Order 9066 forced Japanese Americans out of their homes and businesses, the neighborhood soon became known as Bronzeville, as newly arrived African Americans began occupying the empty apartments and storefronts. The post-war years in Little Tokyo was a time of recovery. By the time the war ended, the Matobas had met, married, and settled in Los Angeles, where they opened the Atomic Cafe in Little Tokyo in 1946, with memories of the bomb and nuclear fears fresh in people's minds. While Ito's parents ran a diner in Kemmerer catering to the local miners, she and her 13 siblings were sent back to Japan as kibeis - American-born but educated in Japan - and came back to America not long before WWII broke out. Minoru Matoba and his wife Ito both hailed from the northern states - Minoru from Whitefish, Montana, Ito from Kemmerer, Wyoming. Perhaps she just doesn't need any physical monument to her memories - "I don't believe in illusions 'cos too much is real," as her favorite singer John Lydon once sang - since she experienced it all firsthand. "I'm gonna be honest, it was so creepy playing in there and spinning those records."īut Sekizawa clearly does care about the Atomic Cafe and its legacy, which she proudly carries on by sometimes resurrecting the Atomic Nancy persona as a DJ. "I don't give a shit," she said, perhaps showing a bit of stubborn defiance left over from her punk past. Months later when asked about the event and the impending demolition of the building, Sekizawa seemed relieved. This evening she took center stage in that same room for the very last time, as the featured DJ, spinning those dusty old 45s from the famous Atomic jukebox. Atomic Nancy, the "kabuki kind of punk girl" who presided over the circus-like vibe of the cafe during its heyday, jumping across tables in rollerskates and slinging bowls of noodles to the rowdy customers in red naugahyde booths. Organized by the Little Tokyo Service Center, this event was kind of a last hurrah for Nancy Sekizawa, a.k.a. Much of the conversation centered around the Atomic Cafe, which occupied the building for almost three decades and best known as an after-hours hangout for the local punks and weirdos in the '80s. Last February a large crowd gathered inside the building (now a branch of local chain Senor Fish) to honor its legacy. This may be good news from an urbanist perspective - but what about the history? Should we be paving over a precious link to the past in the name of progress? The century-old building will be replaced by a new Metro subway stop, slated to become a major transportation hub that will transform the way we travel through downtown. When news spread about the demolition of the old brick building at First and Alameda Streets in Little Tokyo, it was a sign that the city had committed itself to the future. Owner Ito Matoba with a customer at Atomic Cafe
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