Tokyo Rose Story Stirs Up Little Ire

    If you're a newspaperman, it's nice to stay in the good graces of your readers.  But it's not essential.

    There's no hard-and-fast rule in journalism that the customer is always right.

    I, for example, have a little more leeway than a small businessman.  I deal in views and opinions in their multitude of shades and degrees, and therefore, I'm permitted the luxury of offending a certain number of paid-up subscribers.

    It's a justified luxury, I like to think, because when your product is opinion, you're bound to make enemies. 

    It doesn't take many years in the profession, either, to know exactly what to avoid writing if you don't want your editor to be overwhelmed with letters demanding your resignation.
   
Take the rabies vaccination law.  Or the abolition of capital punishment.  Or psychiatric care — rather than jail terms — for the criminally insane.
   

No newspaperman would come out in favor of any of these if his judgment were dictated by apparent reader reaction to his views.

    There are certain opinions, and facts, which  automatically stir large groups in our society to pick up their pencils in violent protest.

    Two weeks ago, I was sure I'd found another tender spot in reader reaction.  I printed an interview with Iva Toguri d'Aquino, known to the world as Tokyo Rose.  It was the first interview which she has ever granted.

    In it, much of her side of the story came out.  She told of her attempts to get out of Japan, both before and during World War II.  She stated that there was nothing that she considered treasonous in her Radio Tokyo broadcasts to U.S. troops, and pointed out that she was actually selected for the "disc jockey" job by Allied prisoners of war, none of whom where punished for their participation in the same broadcasts.

    And although her statements were supported by documented proof, I expected a flood of angry letters.  Through legend, the name "Tokyo Rose" became synonymous with the treachery of the enemy in the Pacific.

    But for some reason, the letters failed to come.  There were a few.  But they were actually outnumbered by correspondence from individuals who were just plain interested in hearing Mrs. d'Aquino's account of what happened.

    One of the most interesting came from a man who is currently employed as an electrical engineer at a local aircraft plant.

    For two years, he listened to the broadcasts of Mrs. d'Aquino (who, I should point out, never used the name Tokyo Rose — she called herself Orphan Ann.)

    "As a radio operator with the 1st Marine Division," he wrote, "I had the opportunity to tune in to any broadcast that could be received in the South Pacific.
   
"The three main broadcasts of interest were the Australian, the Armed Forces Radio and Radio Tokyo. The Australian broadcasts were not too good, as they were directed toward the Aussie humor and musical tastes.  However, both the Armed Forces Radio and Radio Tokyo had good American music along with their respective versions of the news.

    "I remember 'Orphan Ann'. We called her 'Orphan Annie'.  Her broadcasts were typical of American disc-jockey shows.  I mean they were of professional caliber, prepared to furnish a maximum of listening entertainment . . .

    "The news reports, always given by male announcers, were so colored that they were utterly ridiculous to anyone having average intelligence . . .

    "As to Orphan Annie's attitude during the broadcasts, the impression I recall is that of one having a sweet, sugary voice a little on the smug or haughty side, giving the effect of superiority.

    "Whether this attitude was real or put on for the show, I don't know, but since we were winning the war while she was broadcasting, we felt we had the last laugh. 

    "If there was one question that the troops all had about her broadcasts, it wasn't about her position as a possible traitor.  It wasn't about the biased news, but, rather, it was 'Where in hell does she get all the new late released records?' "

    And that, come to think of it, is one question I forgot to ask her.