The architectural influences of the Western Addition are diverse at best; at worst, the impressionistic imbroglio of the various neighborhoods leads the puzzled observer from the gentrified Victorian-era firetraps of Alamo Square to the sleek urban-chic developments of Fillmore Street within the space of a few scant blocks.
Pushing even further north leads one across the sound and fury of Geary Boulevard to the imposing Japan Center, a squat and unappealing two-story structure sprawled across the edge of an otherwise quaint and unobtrusive residential neighborhood. Rising out of that imposing edifice is a building many recognize as the symbol of Nihonmachi, the beacon of culture that signals an oasis of Japanese tradition in the sociological smorgasbord of San Francisco. The Japan Center Peace Pagoda is a cultural landmark, a point of pride for civic officials and a wonderful place for grateful visitors to relax in the shade and enjoy a quick lunch.
The massive stone monolith has been a part of the Japan Center since its construction in 1968; at just over 160 feet tall, the imposing foreign edifice inspires both wonder and trepidation in the tourists who take solace in the shelter of the cool stone sanctuary. Like any civic monument worth erecting the Peace Pagoda is surrounded by a number of garish ceremonial plaques, each highlighting in tawny hues of copper and bronze the historic significance of the largest Japantown in the U.S.
Donated by the citizens of Osaka, Japan the Peace Pagoda is a modern interpretation of the traditional Buddhist stupa, structures which were originally constructed to serve as places for worship and veneration of relics left behind by the Buddha. Designed by noted architect Yoshiro Tanaguchi, this variant of traditional stupa construction features a five-tiered design reminiscent of classic Japanese pagodas. Built entirely of concrete, the structure was donated to the citizens of San Francisco as a symbol of peace, communication and goodwill by the denizens of our sister city in Japan.
All this and more can be gleaned from a few minutes spent wandering the Plaza, as numerous civic markers and informational kiosks hidden among the cherry blossom trees proudly proclaim the virtues of a city dedicated to peace, prosperity and cultural acceptance. But with a little time and research, the true nature of the monument’s arrival proves to be a more ambiguous affair. The first Peace Pagodas were constructed at the direction of the Nipponzan-Myohoji, a sect of Buddhism established by Nichidatsu Fujii in an effort to promote peace and non-violent conflict resolution worldwide. Over eighty Pagodas have been built throughout the world as monuments to world peace, yet San Francisco is notably absent from that list. Though the Japan Center bills the imposing edifice as a Peace Pagoda (indeed, the central Peace Plaza takes its name from the monument’s presence) the structure has no connection to the Nipponzan-Myohoji Order, and was built exclusively to generate goodwill and civic pride among a group of people who had but recently returned from government-imposed exile in the internment camps of the second World War.
In the long run this slight deception is little more than intriguing historical trivia; a monument is defined by the feelings it evokes, and according to weary shoppers this solemn shrine reminds them that given enough time and effort, any mistake can be made right. I tried to press a few visitors further on their thoughts concerning the implications of the Peace Plaza serving as a monument to the forced emigration of Japanese-American citizens, but my efforts proved fruitless. The truth is all were drawn to the sanctuary of the plaza by the same indescribable beauty which first ensnared my attention, a strange sense of tranquility which marks a fragile oasis in the otherwise frenetic shuffle of downtown San Francisco.