Whenever I think about Terminal Island, my mind immediately goes back to childhood trips with my parents to San Pedro’s Fisherman’s Wharf. Those visits were some of my favorite family outings. We’d walk along the waterfront while my parents picked up fresh crab, shrimp, fish, and occasionally shellfish. The smells of the ocean, the sound of fishing boats, and the towering presence of the Vincent Thomas Bridge left a lasting impression on me long before I understood the incredible history hidden just beyond the docks.

As a child, I simply saw ships, cranes, and bridges. It wasn’t until years later that I learned Terminal Island had once been home to one of Southern California’s most vibrant immigrant communities—and that much of it disappeared almost overnight during World War II.

Today, Terminal Island stands at the crossroads of history, commerce, and remembrance.

From Sandbar to Strategic Harbor

Terminal Island wasn’t always an island as we know it today. Originally a marshy stretch of land in San Pedro Bay, it was reshaped through decades of dredging and engineering projects that transformed Los Angeles Harbor into one of the world’s busiest ports.

As railroads arrived in the late 1800s, the island became a gateway for commerce. Warehouses, rail terminals, and docks expanded rapidly, laying the foundation for the economic powerhouse that would eventually emerge.

The Village That Built an Industry

In the early 1900s, Japanese immigrants established a thriving fishing village along Fish Harbor.

Families built homes, schools, churches, markets, and businesses while creating a close-knit community unlike any other in Southern California. Many residents came from Japan’s Wakayama Prefecture, bringing generations of fishing knowledge with them.

Their expertise helped build California’s tuna fishing industry into one of the largest in the nation. Long before canned tuna became a pantry staple across America, many of the fishermen of Terminal Island were helping shape the industry that made it possible.

The community even developed its own distinctive blend of Japanese and English known as “Terminal Island lingo,” reflecting the unique culture that flourished there.

A Community Lost

Everything changed after the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.

Within weeks, Terminal Island became the first Japanese American community in the United States to be forcibly removed.

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Residents were given little time to leave their homes.

Many men were arrested first under suspicion simply because of their ancestry. Families were separated. Businesses were abandoned. Eventually, nearly every house in the village was demolished.

For many residents, there was nothing to return to after the war.

Today, the story of Terminal Island serves as a powerful reminder of how fear and prejudice can overwhelm constitutional rights during times of national crisis.

Building Victory

As one community disappeared, another chapter began.

Terminal Island became one of America’s great wartime industrial centers.

Shipyards worked around the clock constructing destroyers, cargo ships, and support vessels for the Allied war effort. Thousands of workers—including many African Americans who had migrated west seeking defense jobs—helped build and repair ships that crossed the Pacific.

The island became a symbol of American industrial strength, contributing directly to victory during World War II.

The Bridge That Became an Icon

In 1963, the opening of the Vincent Thomas Bridge forever changed the harbor skyline.

The graceful green suspension bridge connected San Pedro with Terminal Island, replacing ferry service and improving access to the growing port.

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For many Southern Californians—including myself—the bridge became more than just a transportation link. It was a landmark that signaled you were entering one of the hardest-working waterfronts in America.

Every crossing offered sweeping views of ships arriving from around the world, reminding visitors that Los Angeles Harbor is one of the nation’s most important economic engines.

Terminal Island Today

Modern Terminal Island bears little resemblance to the fishing village that once stood there.

Today it is home to massive container terminals, rail yards, ship repair facilities, Coast Guard operations, federal facilities, and the Federal Correctional Institution. Together with the neighboring Port of Long Beach, the Port of Los Angeles moves millions of cargo containers every year, supporting jobs and businesses across the United States.

The island remains essential to global trade while quietly preserving memories of the people who first called it home.

Remembering the Whole Story

Terminal Island is more than an industrial center.

It represents the American dream of immigrants who built thriving businesses through hard work.

It reminds us of the injustice experienced by Japanese American families during World War II.

It showcases the extraordinary industrial effort that helped win a global conflict.

And it demonstrates how one small piece of land helped shape the economy of Southern California and the nation.

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The next time you cross the Vincent Thomas Bridge or see the towering cranes along the harbor, remember that beneath today’s shipping terminals lies a story of resilience, sacrifice, innovation, and hope.

Sometimes the most important history isn’t found in famous landmarks—it lives in the places we pass every day without realizing what came before.

Further Reading & Related Links

• Port of Los Angeles – Harbor Communities: Terminal Island History
• Port of Los Angeles – *Terminal Island: Lost Communities of Los Angeles Harbor*
• Japanese American National Museum (JANM)
• National Park Service – Japanese American Confinement Sites
• LA Waterfront – Japanese American Fishing Village Memorial

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Last Updated on July 12, 2026 by Daily News Staff

Every day, millions of people rely on pedestrian signals to cross busy street safely. A glowing white walking figure, an orange-red hand, and a countdown timer have become familiar sights around the world. While these signals may seem like simple pieces of infrastructure, they are the result of more than a century of innovation, engineering, and public safety improvements.

The modern pedestrian signal did not appear overnight. Instead, it evolved through the contributions of inventors, engineers, city planners, and transportation officials who continually refined traffic control systems as cities grew and automobiles became more common.

The Early Days of Traffic Control

Before electric traffic signals, intersections were controlled by police officers, railway-style semaphores, or even hand signals. As horse-drawn wagons gave way to automobiles in the early 1900s, traffic congestion and accidents increased dramatically, creating an urgent need for better traffic management.

One of the earliest electric traffic lights was installed in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1914. It used red and green lights and was manually operated. While it improved vehicle movement, pedestrians still had to judge for themselves when it was safe to cross.

Garrett A. Morgan’s Breakthrough

One of the most important milestones came in 1923 when inventor and entrepreneur Garrett Augustus Morgan received U.S. Patent No. 1,475,024 for an improved traffic signal.

Morgan’s design introduced a third position in addition to “Stop” and “Go.” This intermediate phase temporarily stopped traffic in every direction before allowing vehicles to proceed. The brief pause reduced confusion at intersections and provided additional time for pedestrians to cross safely.

Morgan reportedly developed his design after witnessing a serious traffic accident. His invention demonstrated how thoughtful engineering could improve public safety while making increasingly busy streets more efficient.

Although Morgan did not invent the illuminated “WALK” and “DON’T WALK” pedestrian signal used today, his three-position signal became a foundational step in the evolution of modern traffic control.

The Birth of Dedicated Pedestrian Signals

As cities expanded after World War II, pedestrian safety became an even greater concern. More people were walking in increasingly crowded downtown districts, and separating pedestrian movements from vehicle traffic became a priority.

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During the early 1950s, several American cities began experimenting with dedicated pedestrian signals. New York City became one of the first major municipalities to install illuminated “WALK” and “DON’T WALK” signs at busy intersections.

These early systems gave pedestrians their own designated crossing phase, reducing conflicts with turning vehicles and improving safety at some of the nation’s busiest intersections.

Standardization Across America

By the 1960s and 1970s, traffic engineers recognized the importance of creating consistent traffic control devices nationwide.

The Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices (MUTCD) established national standards for traffic signs, pavement markings, and pedestrian signals. Standardized designs helped ensure that pedestrians could understand crossing signals regardless of where they traveled in the United States.

Eventually, words gave way to internationally recognized symbols—a walking person to indicate it was safe to cross and an upraised hand to indicate pedestrians should wait. These symbols transcended language barriers and improved accessibility for visitors and non-English speakers.

The Countdown Era

One of the most significant modern improvements arrived with pedestrian countdown timers.

Rather than simply flashing a warning, countdown displays show exactly how many seconds remain before the crossing phase ends. Research has shown that countdown timers help pedestrians make better crossing decisions and improve compliance with traffic signals.

Today, countdown timers have become standard equipment at intersections across much of the United States.

Accessibility Takes Center Stage

Modern pedestrian signals are designed to serve everyone.

Accessible Pedestrian Signals (APS) now provide audible tones, spoken messages, vibrating push buttons, and locator sounds that assist pedestrians who are blind or have low vision. These features allow more people to navigate intersections independently and safely.

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The continued development of accessible technology reflects a broader commitment to making transportation systems inclusive for all users.

The Future of Pedestrian Safety

Pedestrian signals continue to evolve.

Many cities now use smart traffic systems that detect pedestrians waiting to cross, automatically adjust signal timing based on traffic conditions, and prioritize people walking during busy periods.

Researchers are exploring artificial intelligence, connected vehicle technology, and sensor-based systems capable of communicating directly with autonomous vehicles. Future pedestrian crossings may adapt in real time to weather conditions, crowd sizes, emergency vehicles, and even the needs of older adults or individuals with disabilities.

A Legacy Built by Many Innovators

The pedestrian signal we know today is the product of more than a century of collaboration and innovation.

Early traffic engineers created the first electric traffic lights. Garrett A. Morgan improved intersection safety with his groundbreaking three-position traffic signal. Transportation agencies standardized traffic control devices, while engineers continued refining pedestrian technology through countdown timers, accessible features, and intelligent traffic systems.

Every safe crossing today reflects the work of countless inventors, planners, researchers, and public officials dedicated to protecting lives.

As cities continue to grow and transportation technology advances, the humble pedestrian signal remains one of the most effective—and often overlooked—public safety innovations ever developed.

At STM Daily News, we celebrate the inventors, engineers, and visionaries whose everyday innovations quietly improve life for millions of people. Sometimes the most important inventions aren’t the ones that grab headlines—they’re the ones we depend on every single day without giving them a second thought.

Related Reading

• Federal Highway Administration – Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices (MUTCD)
• National Museum of African American History and Culture – Garrett Augustus Morgan
• United States Patent and Trademark Office
• Federal Highway Administration – Accessible Pedestrian Signals
• National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA)

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Daniel Milowski, Arizona State University

Working in concert, the American Association of State Highway Officials and the Bureau of Public Roads adopted a uniform highway numbering system and corresponding map on November 11, 1926. The numbering system and map replaced the confusing patchwork of highways and trails, like the Lincoln Highway or the Old Trails Road, with an official network of numbered highways sanctioned by federal and state highway authorities.

Since then, a small group of these highways have attained the status of cultural icon. There’s Route 1, which snakes all the way from Maine to Florida. Route 101 is celebrated for its majestic views of the Pacific Ocean, while Route 6 was immortalized in “On the Road,” Jack Kerouac’s classic novel.

The most famous, though, is arguably Route 66, nicknamed the “Main Street of America” and the “Mother Road.”

Yet as the towns that dot the highway prepare to celebrate its centennial, I’ve found myself wondering what it is, exactly, that’s being celebrated.

As a historian of Route 66, I’ve written about how there are really two versions of this 2,448-mile (3,940-kilometer) stretch of pavement.

There’s the actual highway, which reflected the 20th-century expansion of the nation’s infrastructure. Then there’s the mythic highway – a cultural icon imbued with nostalgia for a specific, 20th-century idea of romance, adventure, freedom and the American West.

There was almost no 66

As state highway commissioners in the 1920s wrangled over the specifics of the nation’s new highway system, they prized highway numbers that ended in zero, since they indicated a cross-country route. The thinking went that these routes would get the most traffic and, with it, the most business.

Oklahoma State Highway Commissioner Cyrus Avery had been a big booster for a Chicago-to-Los Angeles road in order to juice highway traffic through the Midwest. He suggested calling it Route 60, claiming a coveted cross-country number.

But commissioners from Kentucky and Virginia objected, noting that Avery’s proposed road didn’t go from coast to coast. As an alternative, they suggested 62. Avery countered with a number that he thought had a better ring to it: 66.

With the numbering controversy settled, the map of America’s first highway system was approved. But another 12 years would pass before Route 66 was fully built out, making it the first U.S. highway to be paved end to end.

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Adventure, redemption and reinvention

While it took over a decade for the full, physical stretch of road to be completed, the making of the Route 66 myth began almost immediately.

Construction of the road had barely begun when Avery, John T. Woodruff and other prominent civic leaders along the highway’s path convened in January 1927 to form the U.S. Highway 66 Association to promote travel along the route.

The association began advertising Route 66 as the best West Coast travel route and even trademarked a slogan for the road, “The Main Street of America.” The association also sponsored spectacles like the Trans-American Footrace to help publicize Route 66.

The race, which started on March 4, 1928, in Los Angeles, received widespread media coverage. Reporters breathtakingly described the epic struggles of the racers, coupled with vivid descriptions of the Southwest landscape. The effect was a marriage of Route 66 to ideas of adventure and romance in America’s collective subconscious.

During the Great Depression and Dust Bowl years, thousands of migrants from the Great Plains and Midwest traveled west along Route 66, hoping to rebuild their lives in California.

Author John Steinbeck dubbed Route 66 the “Mother Road” in “The Grapes of Wrath,” likening it to an umbilical cord that delivered Oakie refugees fleeing the Dust Bowl in the Oklahoma Panhandle to a new life in California. Working for the New Deal-era Farm Security Administration, photographer Dorothea Lange documented the same Oakies fictionalized by Steinbeck. Her 1938 photograph “Family on the Road” captured a husband, wife and their two young children hitchhiking on Route 66 near Weatherford, Oklahoma, after losing their farm.

Together, Steinbeck and Lange helped imbue Route 66 with new layers of meaning tied to loss and redemption. Then, after World War II, Route 66 came to mythologize the postwar boom.

Bobby Troup’s 1946 song “(Get Your Kicks) on Route 66,” first recorded by the Nat King Cole Trio, cast the road as a postwar rite of passage. Millions of Americans went on to take family vacations to the American Southwest via Route 66, staying at roadside mom-and-pop motels, grabbing burgers at neon-lit diners and posing beside oversized roadside landmarks.

Myth versus reality

But the iconic imagery and myths of Route 66 are often at odds with the reality of the road.

I’ve come to see Troup’s song as encapsulating the tension between these two versions of Route 66.

In 1946, when Nat King Cole recorded “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66,” Cole and his band were unable to get their own “kicks” on Route 66. That’s because few businesses located along Route 66 were willing to serve them. Jim Crow-era copies of the Green Book – a directory of businesses that would accommodate Black road trippers – show just how few options there were.

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It would take passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 – and subsequent enforcement efforts by the Justice Department – for the travel amenities and services along Route 66 to be equally available to all Americans, regardless of their race.

Yet by the time the highway’s motels, diners, auto repair shops and gas stations were open to all travelers, Route 66’s downturn had already begun.

The 1956 Federal Aid Highway Act turbocharged the construction of new, limited-access interstate highways. These new postwar highways prioritized fast travel between major cities and their suburbs, where Americans were flocking to in large numbers.

Fast travel, however, came at the expense of small towns bypassed by the new highways, depriving many Route 66 businesses of the customers they needed to survive.

In contrast to older mom-and-pop businesses, national corporate chain motels, restaurants and gas stations dominated the new interstate highway exits. Rather than risk exposing themselves to Justice Department Civil Rights scrutiny, they made it known that they welcomed all travelers, further enticing drivers away from older establishments.

Now, as Route 66 turns 100, there’s a gap between how the road is remembered by some and how it functioned for most. Free and easy travel on the road and “getting your kicks” were limited to white Americans. Much of Route 66’s iconography emerged from early highway association marketing efforts aimed at white Americans. Few African American or Latino travelers likely feel the same nostalgia.

Today, a lot of Route 66 nostalgia has a “back to the 1950s” vibe that celebrates pre-Civil Rights America as a purer, simpler, more authentic era. This faux-authentic America better reflects the place some Americans today wish they could live in – a less complicated, less diverse land of adventure, romance and opportunity, rather than the nuanced, complicated America they actually inhabit today.

Daniel Milowski, Adjunct Professor of History, Arizona State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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