He lost the election. But kept his integrity.
September 22, 1950: Ralph Lawrence Carr, former Governor of Colorado and one of the only American politicians to publicly defend Japanese Americans during World War II, died at age 62.
While much of the country gave in to fear and prejudice, Governor Carr stood up.
When President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, over 120,000 Japanese Americans were forcibly removed from their homes and imprisoned in government-run camps. Most politicians at the time either supported the policy or remained silent. But not Ralph Carr.
He condemned the incarceration of Japanese Americans in no uncertain terms. He called it unconstitutional. He called it racism. And he paid the political price for it.
“If you harm them, you must first harm me.”
Carr believed that American citizens, including those of Japanese ancestry, were owed the full rights guaranteed by the Constitution. As governor, he publicly welcomed Japanese Americans into Colorado, even as other states shut their doors and fueled hate. He offered protection, dignity, and humanity at a time when so few others would.
His actions sparked fierce backlash. Political opponents accused him of siding with “the enemy” for personal gain. Some even claimed he was doing it to gain Japanese American votes — a baseless attack considering how few eligible Japanese American voters were in Colorado at the time.
Carr lost the 1942 U.S. Senate race. In 1950, he tried again for governor but passed away from diabetes complications just a month before the election. He was 62.
Principles Ahead of His Time
Ralph Carr’s defense of Japanese Americans was not just political bravery — it was moral clarity. He spoke out not because it was easy, but because it was right.
He also had a deep connection to other marginalized communities. Fluent in Spanish, Carr built strong relationships with the Hispanic residents of Colorado’s San Luis Valley, offering legal help and public support when few others in power would.
His vision of America was inclusive. He saw strength in diversity and dignity in all people. And history would prove him right.
Despite the wartime paranoia, not a single case of Japanese espionage was ever uncovered on U.S. soil. Japanese Americans remained loyal — and many, including the soldiers of the 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, went on to fight and die for the very country that had imprisoned their families.
A Legacy of Courage
Now more than ever, it’s important to remember Ralph Carr.
In a political landscape where leaders often shift positions to fit the moment, Carr stood firm. He didn’t chase popularity. He didn’t wait for the polls. He followed his conscience — and refused to budge.
A statue of him now stands in Denver’s Sakura Square. A major judicial center and highway bear his name. And in Japanese American communities across the country, his memory still means something. Not just for what he said. But for what he sacrificed.
May he rest in power.