Filmmaker Beth Harrington’s discovery of Frank Matsura’s work at the Washington State History Museum in 2002 marked the beginning of a decades-long fascination with the Japanese immigrant photographer whose images captured the spirit of early 20th-century Okanogan County. Harrington, drawn to the distinct character of Matsura’s black-and-white photographs, particularly his intimate portraits of both white settlers and Indigenous peoples of the Colville Reservation, embarked on a journey to document his life and impact, culminating in the 2025 feature-length documentary, Our Mr. Matsura. Matsura, who lived and worked in Okanogan from 1903 until his death at age 39 from tuberculosis in 1913, left behind thousands of images but scant biographical details, yet his profound connection with his subjects and the communities he documented ensured his memory endured.

Matsura’s photographs are imbued with a palpable charisma, revealing not only the individuals he photographed but also his own engaging presence; he often posed playfully alongside his subjects, fostering a unique rapport. This deep engagement is a testament to his extraordinary social mobility in a region undergoing significant transformation. He moved fluidly between the diverse social strata of Okanogan, capturing the lives of tribal members, newly arrived businessmen, miners, and saloon patrons with equal warmth and respect. This inclusivity is a hallmark of his work, offering a window into a society in flux, where cultures were intermingling and evolving.

The documentary Our Mr. Matsura explores the concept that each viewer finds their own entry point into understanding the enigmatic photographer. Harrington suggests that a collective sense of who Matsura was emerges from these individual impressions, pieced together from the rich visual narratives he created. This sentiment resonates deeply within Okanogan County, where his work remains a familiar and cherished part of local history. Douglas Woodrow, a lifelong resident of Okanogan, recalls seeing Matsura’s photographs in the local newspaper during his childhood in the late 1950s. As a young boy, he would cycle to the locations depicted in these historical images, marveling at the changes and imagining the grandeur of structures like the Bureau Hotel, which once stood as a symbol of elegance in the burgeoning town before its destruction by fire in 1924.

Woodrow’s reconnection with Matsura’s legacy occurred decades later when, as a volunteer with the Okanogan County Historical Society, he discovered a “literal shoebox” filled with unprocessed photographs. These images, when sequenced, revealed the construction of the Conconully Dam in 1910, an early project by the Bureau of Reclamation on Salmon Creek. This discovery ignited Woodrow’s passion, leading him to undertake his own Matsura-focused projects, including presenting these dam construction photos to community groups and later traveling to Matsura’s birthplace in Tokyo with Japanese photographer Tetsuo Kurihara, a fellow enthusiast he met during Kurihara’s research trip to Okanogan. Back in Washington, Woodrow has been instrumental in preserving Matsura’s memory, establishing an interpretive site near his former studio and spearheading a walking tour featuring mural-sized reproductions of his photographs.

The enduring impact of Matsura’s work is evident in the descendants of his subjects, such as Randy Lewis, a Wenatchi (P’Squosa) elder and member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation. Lewis appears in Our Mr. Matsura, sharing how his family history is intertwined with Matsura’s lens. He recounts how a photograph of his great-uncle, Sam George, and his family in a buckboard wagon – affectionately dubbed the “F-250 of the time” – hung in the family home. Lewis’s great-uncle, who lived to be 108, would often gaze at the photograph, using it as a tool to recall the names and birthdays of everyone present, a poignant reminder of the personal connections Matsura forged.

Sam George’s life spanned a period of immense change in the region. Born in 1860, predating the formal establishment of the Colville Indian Reservation in 1872, he witnessed its subsequent reduction, the allotment era, and the influx of prospectors and homesteaders. His family, like many Indigenous families, maintained traditional seasonal fishing practices, including a significant fishing platform at Celilo Falls, which was eventually submerged by the construction of The Dalles Dam in 1957, a devastating loss to one of the continent’s richest fishing grounds. Matsura’s arrival coincided with this crucial cultural moment, capturing a period of dynamic evolution for both Native and settler communities. As Lewis observes, Matsura wasn’t documenting decline but rather "life going on" into a new century.

Harrington’s documentary also emphasizes the rugged beauty and isolation of Okanogan County itself, a landscape that has remained largely unchanged since Matsura’s time. Jean Berney, a rancher and farmer near Conconully, describes the area as remote, a place “off the beaten track for a lot of people.” Berney, an enrolled member of the Colville Confederated Tribes who married into a non-Native cattle-ranching family and built her own successful herd, also operates her ranch on land that once housed the Conconully Naturpathy Institute, known locally as Casselmann’s Sanitarium. This institution, established in 1906 by German immigrant Dr. Casselmann, treated tuberculosis patients, and it is widely believed that Matsura himself may have been a patient, drawn to the region’s dry climate, which was thought to be beneficial for respiratory ailments. Berney reflects on the unanswered questions surrounding Matsura’s health and his time in the area, lamenting the inability to ask him directly about his experiences.

Our Mr. Matsura contributes to a growing body of work dedicated to understanding Matsura’s significance. This includes the diligent efforts of volunteers at the Okanogan County Historical Society and the academic research of Michael Holloman, an art professor at Washington State University. Holloman, an enrolled member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation, co-curated a major exhibition of Matsura’s work in 2023 and authored the 2025 book, Frank S. Matsura: Iconoclast Photographer of the American West. Holloman emphasizes the relevance of Matsura’s approach today, stating, "We need people to be like Frank right now, to engage multiple communities and be able to find life, vibrancy, in a world that is in transformation and change."

The planned wide release of Our Mr. Matsura on PBS’s The American Experience was disrupted by federal funding cuts to the long-running series. Despite this setback, Harrington remains committed to sharing Matsura’s story through film festivals, streaming platforms, and special screenings like the one held in Omak. She acknowledges the increased difficulty in reaching audiences but firmly believes in the intrinsic value of such narratives. "There’s a lot of worthy things that we can’t put a dollar value to," Harrington stated, adding, "These stories… we’re poorer for them when we don’t have them."

During the Omak screening, Harrington received heartfelt thanks for mirroring the trust Matsura had cultivated with his subjects over a century prior. She, in turn, expressed her gratitude, emphasizing that the film’s power lies not only in Matsura’s charisma and prolific body of work but also in the enduring community effort to preserve and share his memory. "The story is not just about Frank and his charisma and his incredible body of work," Harrington concluded, "It’s about the way people uphold his memory and still talk about him 112 years after his death." The dedication of individuals like Harrington, Woodrow, and Holloman ensures that Frank Matsura’s photographic legacy continues to illuminate the history and spirit of Okanogan County for generations to come.