Images of Old Hawaiʻi

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Keahuolū

The area of North Kona between Kailua Bay and Keauhou Bay to the south is generally recognized as containing the population core and the most fertile agricultural area of North Kona (Kona Kai ʻOpua “Kona of the distant horizon clouds above the ocean”.)  (Maly)

To the north of Kailua Bay, beginning at Honokōhau, is the relatively dry Kekaha district of North Kona, with its barren lava inlands and coastal fishponds (Kekaha-wai-ʻole-nā-Kona (the waterless place of Kona, it’s described as “a dry, sun-baked land.”)

Keahuolū is situated in the transition zone between these two contrasting environmental districts, and is immediately north of Kailua Bay, a center of both political and economic activities since before Western contact.

Keahuolū has been translated in a couple ways, “Ke-ahu-o-Lū” (the ahu (or alter) of Lū) and “Keʻohuʻolu” (the refreshing mists) – similar to the neighboring (to the south) Lanihau ahupuaʻa (cool heaven.)

A hill at Keahuolū and adjoining Kealakehe (to the north) is associated with mists.  “The settling of mists upon Puʻu O Kaloa was a sign of pending rains; thus the traditional farmers of this area would prepare their fields.”  (This notes the importance of rain in this relatively dry area.)  (Cultural Surveys)

Several general settlement pattern models have been generated by researchers that generally divide up the region into five basic environmental zones: the Shoreline, Kula, Kaluʻulu, ʻApaʻa and ʻAmaʻu.

Habitation was concentrated along the shoreline and lowland slopes, and informal fields were probably situated in the Kula and higher elevations, areas with higher rainfall.

The Shoreline zone extends, typically, from the high-tide line inland a few hundred feet. In Kailua this is the area from the shore to approximately Aliʻi Drive.  In this zone, permanent settlement began in Kona c. AD 1000-1200.

Several large and densely populated royal centers were situated at several locations along the shoreline between Kailua and Honaunau.

Several heiau were noted along the coast. Stokes described three coastal heiau sites in Keahuolū: Halepuʻa, Kawaluna and Palihiolo. Halepuʻa was described by Stokes as a koʻa, or fishing shrine, near the shore in a coconut grove.

Kawaluna Heiau was described by Stokes as a rebuilt enclosure located on the beach at Pāwai Bay. Heiau of Palihiolo was at or near the Keahuolū/Lanihau boundary, King Kalākaua had it rebuilt prior to his departure from Hawaiʻi.  (Rosendahl)

The Kula zone (the plain or open country) consisted primarily of dry and open land with few trees and considerable grass cover.

With limited soil, and lots of rock, this land was planted primarily in scattered sweet potato patches.  (This area was around the 500-foot elevation mark, and may extend further, to approximately the 600-800-foot elevation.)

The Kaluʻulu is zone is referred to as the breadfruit zone. Early explorers described this zone as breadfruit with sweet potatoes and wauke (paper mulberry) underneath; it may have been perhaps one-half mile wide. Here walled fields occur at the 600-800-foot elevation, which may be start of this breadfruit zone in this area.

The ʻApaʻa zone is described as a dryland taro and sweet potato zone (1,000-foot elevation and extended to the 2,500-foot elevation.) In historic accounts it is described as an area divided by low stone and earth walls into cleared rectangular fields in which sweet potato and dryland taro were planted. On the edges of the walls, sugarcane and ti were planted.

The ʻAmaʻu zone is the banana zone, which may extend from the 2,000-foot elevation to 3,000-feet, and is characterized by bananas and plantains being grown in cleared forest areas.  (Rosendahl)

William Ellis (1822) noted, “The houses which are neat, are generally erected on the sea-shore, shaded with cocoanut and kou trees, which greatly enliven the scene.”

“The environs were cultivated to a considerable extent; small gardens were seen among the barren rocks on which the houses are built, wherever soil could be found sufficient to nourish the sweet potato, the watermelon, or even a few plants of tobacco, and in many places these seemed to be growing literally in the fragments of lava, collected in small heaps around their roots.”

King Kalākaua later (1869) noted, “Keahuolu runs clear up to the mountains and includes a portion of nearly half of Hualalai mountains.  On the mountains the koa, kukui and ohia abounds in vast quantities.  The upper land or inland is arable, and suitable for growing coffee, oranges, taro, potatoes, bananas &c.”

” Breadfruit trees grow wild as well as Koli (castor-oil) oil seed.  The lower land is adopted for grazing cattle, sheep, goats &c.  The fishery is very extensive and a fine grove of cocoanut trees of about 200 to 300 grows on the beach.”

A sisal plantation was planted in Keahuolu in the late-1890s, a mill was constructed nearby; sisal was used to make rope and other fibers.  Operating until 1924, the McWayne sisal tract included about 1,000-acres of sisal fields in Keahuolu and adjoining Kealakehe.  (You can still see sisal plants, remnants of the sisal plantation, as you drive up Palani Road.)

A fishing village with a canoe landing was at Pāwai Bay.  Makaʻeo (later (July 10, 1949) developed into the Kailua Airport (commercial aviation ended there July 1, 1970)) had a large cocoanut grove, with a coastal trail running through it connecting Kailua Village to the Māmalahoa Trail.

The Kuakini Wall (1830-1844,) built to keep the free-ranging livestock out of the coastal settlements and gardens, extends from Kahaluʻu Bay to the southern portion of Keahuolu (with an average distance of about 1 ½ miles from the coastline.)  It goes to, but not through, Keahuolū at its northern terminus.

The ahupuaʻa of Keahuolū was awarded to Analeʻa Keohokālole ((c. 1816-1869) mother of King Kalākaua and Queen Liliʻuokalani) during the Māhele of 1848. Two walled houselots in Keahuolū had been held by Keohokālole’s ancestors “from very ancient times”.

Keohokālole was a great-granddaughter of both Kameʻeiamoku and Keaweaheulu two of the important chiefs who supported Kamehameha I in his rise to power.

Kameʻeleihiwa states, “Keohokālole was regarded by the Kamehameha clan as an Aliʻi Nui in honor of the great courage and loyalty proffered by her ancestors in their support of Kamehameha.”

As Aliʻi Nui, Keohokālole held the fifth largest number of ʻāina after the Māhele with 50 parcels.  She relinquished 48% of her original 96 ʻāina to the Mōʻī (King) retaining 23-parcels on Hawaiʻi, 25 on Maui and two on Oʻahu. Of her lands on the island of Hawaiʻi, two-thirds were located in the Kona District.  (Wong-Smith)

Keohokālole sold portions of her 15,000-20,000-acre grant to the government and other parties, with the balance being transferred to her heir, Liliʻuokalani.

In her Deed of Trust dated December 2, 1909, which was later amended in 1911, Queen Lili‘uokalani entrusted her estate to provide for orphan and destitute children in the Hawaiian Islands, with preference for Hawaiian children. Her legacy is perpetuated through the Queen Liliʻuokalani Children’s Center.

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Shaka

“Shaka” is not a Hawaiian word (it’s not clear when or how it came into use) – but it is believed it started as a Hawaiian hand gesture and has grown to universal acceptance.

It has many meanings

Originally it means to “hang loose”, or to chill and be laid back. It can be used as a positive reinforcement. If somebody did something good, cool, or righteous, you can give them a shaka as a sign of approval or praise. It can also be used as a welcome/goodbye sign.

Most people would give the shaka as a sign of howzit, wassup or hello, use it as a way of saying goodbye, and even use it as a thank you.  (UrbanDictionary)

Most point to Hamana Kalili (June 18, 1882 – December 17, 1958) as its originator.

In 1985, 550 people signed a petition giving credit to Hamana Kalili, a big man on Lāʻie beach and in the Mormon Church during the 1920s and 1930s. Kalili was a folk hero — fisherman, tug of war champion and hukilau organizer of the community.  (Krauss)

Beatrice Ayer Patton (Mrs. George S Patton – Patton was stationed on Oʻahu during the mid-1920s) described Kalili as “a magnificent example of the pure Hawaiian. A man in his sixties, with white hair and a deeply carven face, he had the body and reactions of a teenager.”

“He lived and fished on the windward side of the island. … We went to several luaus … they were the real thing”.  (Patton-Totten)

When fellow Mormons in Lāʻie planned a hukilau to raise funds to replace their chapel that had burned down, they turned to Kalili, a renowned fisherman, for help; Kalili supplied the nets for fishing.  He also portrayed King Kamehameha during the entertainment portion of the hukilau.

To make a simple Shaka: make a fist (not a tight fist;) extend both your pinky and your thumb and lightly shake your hand.  (The Shaka sign resembles the American Sign Language letter for Y.)  There are multiple variations on the finger extension, speed of shake, etc.

Kalili’s Shaka didn’t start this way.

Prior to 1937, Hamana Kalili had lost his second, third and fourth fingers of one hand in an accident. 

Kalili’s grandnephew Vonn Logan explained that Kalili’s job was to feed sugar cane into the rollers at the sugar mill, which would squeeze out the juice. He lost his fingers when his hand got caught in the rollers.  (Star-Bulletin)

“..he had lost three fingers on his hand.  So, you know since we were making fun of him, but we would wave to him … (gestures waving with three middle fingers folded down) And we folded our fingers on our hand to show what his hand look like.”

“And we would wave to him, and he would wave back at us.  And we would laugh, because he would wave back to us without his fingers. … he was always like a father to us in the community.”  (Roland Maʻiola “Ahi” Logan; Kepa Maly)

“One of his jobs was to keep all the kids off the train.  All the kids would try to jump the train to ride from town to town. So they started signaling each other. Since (Kalili) lost his fingers, the perfect signal was what we have now as the ‘shaka sign.’ That’s how you signaled the way was clear.”  (Logan; Star-Bulletin)

In the late 60s. we put a lot of effort, and was able to convince Mayor Fasi and other people about the ‘shaka’ sign.  And Mayor Fasi took it upon himself to declare that Hamana Kalili was the originator.  And we were all in the Mayor Fasi’s office to take credit for my granduncle.”  (Logan; Maly)

A local car salesman, David “Lippy” Espinda, picked up on the Shaka sign and used it and his pidgin language in his TV commercials.   He emceed his own show, “Lippy’s Lanai Theater.”

Much sought after as a benefit auctioneer and banquet speaker, he appeared in “Hawaii Five-O” and “Brady Bunch” segments and had minor parts in some movies.

“Shaka, Brah,” was his trademark and he popularized the “Shaka” sign.  (Star-Bulletin)

Politicians used the “Shaka,” as well.  Frank Fasi used it while campaigning for Mayor of Honolulu in the mid-seventies.

In a 1999 Star-Bulletin interview, Fasi credited the late Bill Pacheco with using the sign and saying “shaka brother.”  “I think he meant shake it up, buddy. How’s it going? Aloha. Have a good day. All those good meanings. It just meant a world of goodness”.

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Teshima’s

Teishoku #3 was my mother’s favorite.

With the meal came the anticipated stop and discussion with Mrs Teshima, proprietress of the place.  Mrs Teshima is now gone, but the memory of her gracious hospitality and her ability to remember the family and life experiences of her customers will live forever.

To tell the story of Shizuko (Mary) Teshima and her restaurant, Teshima’s, we need to step back a few years … a lot of years.

In the early-1900s her father, Goichi Hanato, emigrated from Hiroshima, along with her mother, Kiku Morishima, in a picture bride marriage (1905.)  Shizuko (Mary) was born June 24, 1907 in a Kona coffee field, not far from where Teshima’s restaurant is today.

Her father was an industrious man who tried his hand at many jobs; among other things, milked cows and made butter. He got a farm in Honalo and opened a store. He and his wife made tofu at home and delivered it by horse and wagon to their customers.  (Kona Historical Society)

A few years after arriving in Hawaiʻi, Goichi Hanato opened a general store, tofu factory and taxi service.

During World War I, Shizuko attended Konawaena Elementary School.   As a teenager having only an eighth grade education, Shizuko worked at her father’s general store.  It was there that she met Fumio (Harry) Teshima, an islander who worked as a mechanic for the Captain Cook Coffee Company.

Shizuko’s father wrote to his family back in Hiroshima Japan to ask about fiancée Fumio’s farmer family/reputation – the response was favorable, so Fumio was allowed to marry Shizuko.  (Narimatsu)  In 1926 they were married, and in 1929 the couple opened a store and called it F Teshima Store.

While her husband worked at Captain Cook Coffee Company and earned a cash salary, Shizuko worked in the store and started raising their family of five children.  She did sewing at night with a gas lamp to make extra cash, earning a dollar for trousers and seventy-five cents a shirt.

“To begin with I had the store. It was kinda boring, and I wanted to do something to keep me real busy. So, I decided …to run up to the church (when) they had classes in cooking.  So, I said, oh, I must like this work. I started with an ice cream parlor at first ‘cause I had general merchandise.”

“People, when they came to buy something, wanted to eat, and that’s how I got into food, too. I had two tables, one dozen ice cream spoons, one bamboo ice cream scoop, and the glasses….We made our own ice cream. Our ice used to come from Hilo.”

“We bought 100 lbs. and we packed it in the coffee skins, in the box, and we made ice cream the night before after we closed the store. In the morning it was ready and we packed it in ice with salt, but there was no electricity anyway, so we did it the hard way.”  (Kona Historical Society)

Around 1940, Mary purchased a fountain so Kona kids could have ice cream sodas, as well.  When World War II started, life changed.

The store became a popular saimin stand before serving libations and food to soldiers stationed nearby.  The store expanded into a hamburger stand, before it was launched a Japanese family restaurant.

Suddenly, Kona was filled with hungry, thirsty US servicemen who showed up at F Teshima Store with money in their pockets, looking for drinks at the horse shoe bar and hot off the stove hamburgers.

“Homesick boys, only 18 or 19,” she said, “but they were all very nice.”  These WWII soldiers, who couldn’t pronounce her name, gave her the name Mary.  (Winther)  (Relatives and good friends called her Grandma; we, always, respectfully, called her Mrs Teshima.)

When the war was over, the family made a smart decision in 1957 to tear down the old store and build a restaurant.  (Kona Historical Society) What was the general store evolved into a 230-seat restaurant.  (Her husband Fumio (Harry) Teshima died April 20, 1997.)

In 2009, Shizuko “Mary” Teshima was recipient of the Women’s Hall of Fame award, given by the Hawaiʻi County Committee on the Status of Women.

On October 22, 2013, “Mary” “Grandma” “Mrs Teshima” died at the age of 106 (she worked for 83-years at her Honalo landmark.)  She had five children, 17 grandchildren, 27 great grandchildren and 16 great-great grandchildren.

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Waikīkī’s Construction Evolution

The present Waikīkī has a land area of approximately 500-acres; it once was a vast marshland whose boundaries encompassed more than 2,000-acres.  Consistent with the character of the watered wetland of ancient Waikīkī, where water from the upland valleys would gush forth from underground, the name Waikīkī, which means “water spurting from many sources.”

Three main valleys Makiki, Mānoa and Pālolo are mauka of Waikīkī and through them their respective streams (and springs in Mānoa (Punahou and Kānewai)) watered the marshland below.

Since Maʻilikūkahi founded Waikīkī as a Royal Center of Oʻahu in the 1400s, Waikīkī served as the site of the royal residence and center of governance until 1809 (when Kamehameha I moved the government to Honolulu Harbor.)

Subsequent Kings and Queens visited and stayed in royal beach cottages in Waikīkī.  Mid- and late-19th century Hawaiian royalty were prominent among the first of the new wave to permanently settle in Waikīkī.  It was a place to escape to, as well as a pleasant location to entertain.

In 1877, Kapiʻolani Park was dedicated; its initial intent, through a 30-year lease, was to make available a limited number of beachfront cottage sites and a race track as an attraction.

In 1896, the Honolulu Park Commission took over management of the park and began to operate the park land and “permanently set (it) aside as a free public park and recreation ground forever.”  (In 1913, the City and County of Honolulu took over the management and operation of the park.)

In the 1890s, Waikīkī drew the elite who constructed Victorian mansions.  Starting with James Campbell, Frank Hustace and WC Peacock, larger mansions began to be constructed in Waikīkī.

The later homes of William Irwin (1899) and James Campbell (“Kainalu,” in 1899) epitomized the extravagance of luxury living.  The wealthy discovered the ultimate destination of Waikīkī.

Starting on a small scale, Waikīkī had a number of small residential tracks.  In February 1895 a small subdivision (13-lots, each approximately 5,000-square feet in size) was developed makai of Waikīkī Road (Kalākaua Avenue) and mauka of the John ‘Ena Road intersection.

Then, in 1897, a subdivision map for the Kekio tract was recorded.  The Kekio Tract, shaped somewhat like a triangle, was bounded by Lili‘uokalani Avenue, Waikīkī Road (Kalākaua Avenue), Makee Road (Kapahulu Avenue) and the lands of Kāneloa (Thomas Jefferson Elementary School).

As time went on, the royal estates were sold and subdivided on the dry areas of Waikīkī.

In 1921 the former estates of James Campbell and George Beckley were offered to perspective buyers by developer Waterhouse Trust Company.  With this subdivision the last of the large, readily-developable landholdings in Waikīkī had been broken up.

Further residential development would have to wait for the drainage of the area by the Ala Wai Canal.  Then, they started “land reclamation” projects on the coastal wetlands.

Back then, nearly 85% of present Waikīkī was in wetland.  The Army began the transformation of Waikīkī from wetlands to solid ground at Fort DeRussy and it served as a model that others followed (1909.)

The Waikīkī wetlands were characterized as, “stretched useless, unsightly, offensive swamps, perpetually breeding mosquitoes and always a menace to public health and welfare”.

The Territory saw the opportunity to drain and fill the land that “was valueless” to be “available for the growth of the business district of the city” and attain “a valuation greatly in excess of the cost of the filling and draining.”

During the 1920s, the Waikīkī landscape would be transformed when the construction of the Ala Wai Drainage Canal, begun in 1921 and completed in 1928, resulted in the draining and filling in of the remaining ponds and irrigated fields of Waikīkī.  (By 1924, all of the streams were diverted into the canal and stopped flowing through Waikīkī.)

Walter Dillingham’s Hawaiian Dredging Company dredged the canal and sold the material he had dredged to create the canal to build up the newly created land.  (The canal is still routinely dredged.)

With construction of the Ala Wai Canal, 625-acres of wetland were drained and filled and runoff was diverted away from Waikīkī beach.

The completion of the Ala Wai Canal not only created the opportunity for the development of Waikīkī as Hawai‘i’s primary visitor destination, but also expanded the district’s potential for residential use.

Before reclamation, assessed values for property were at about $500-per acre and the same property was reclaimed at ten cents per square foot, making a total cost of $4,350-per acre.  The selling price after reclamation, $6,500 to $7,000-per acre, showed the financial benefit of the reclamation efforts.

In 1924, the first post-canal residential venture, the McCarthy Subdivision, owned by and named for the Territory’s Governor McCarthy, was makai of what would become Ala Wai Boulevard.  The property, roughly triangular in shape and widest on the Diamond Head side, was bisected by Lili‘uokalani, ‘Ōhua and Paoakalani Avenues.

The mid- and late-1920s saw more and more of Waikīkī being subdivided into residential lots until most of the area was gridded into residential plots.  Before and during this time of residential development, there were hotels.

Hawai‘i’s first accommodations for transients were established sometime after 1810, when Don Francisco de Paula Marin “opened his home and table to visitors on a commercial basis … Closely arranged around the Marin home were the grass houses of his workers and the ‘guest houses’ of the ship captains who boarded with him while their vessels were in port.”

By 1820, Anthony D Allen (a former slave from the continent) owned a dozen houses, “within the enclosure were his dwelling, eating and cooking houses, with many more for a numerous train of dependents. There was also a well, a garden containing principally squashes, and in one part, a sheepfold in which was one cow, several sheep, and three hundred goats.”  (Sybil Bingham Journal)

Reverend Charles Stewart notes of Allen’s place in his journal, “… it is a favourite resort of the more respectable of the seamen who visit Honoruru. …”

While these were part of the first hotel uses in the islands, as time went on, downtown Honolulu had the core of the hotel supply, and Waikīkī, two-miles away by foot over dirt roads, was not considered in the accommodation business.

But that changed.

Sans Souci Hotel, a Waikīkī beachfront resort that opened in 1884 and offered private cottages and bathing facilities, turned it into an internationally-known resort after it hosted writer Robert Louis Stevenson, who wrote about staying there for five weeks in 1893.

In the late-1890s, with additional steamships to Honolulu, the visitor arrivals to Oʻahu were increasing.  When Hawaiʻi became a US territory (June 14, 1900,) it was drawing cruise ship travelers to the islands; they needed a place to stay.

Hotels blossomed, including Waikīkī’s oldest surviving hotel, the Moana Hotel. Often called the “First Lady of Waikīkī,” the Moana Hotel has been a Hawaiʻi icon since its opening opened on March 11, 1901.

By 1918, Hawai‘i had 8,000 visitors annually, and by the 1920s Matson Navigation Company ships were bringing an increasing number of wealthy visitors.  This prompted a massive addition to the Moana.  In 1918, two floors were added along with concrete wings on each side, doubling the size of the hotel.

On February 1, 1927, the Royal Hawaiian (nicknamed The Pink Palace) was officially opened with the gala event of the decade.  Over 1,200-guests were invited for the celebration that started at 6:30 pm and lasted until 2 am.  Over the subsequent decades, promotional efforts grew and so did the number of visitors.

1955 saw the first of a new wave of hotel construction.  Three high-rise hotels opened in Waikīkī that year: the Princess Kaʻiulani, the Reef Hotel and the Waikīkī Biltmore (which itself became a victim of progress and was imploded to make room for what is now the Hyatt Regency Waikīkī.)

Another hotel – Henry Kaiser’s Hawaiian Village, which was not yet a high-rise, opened its first 70-rooms.

Between 1950 and 1974, domestic and international visitor numbers shot up to more than 2-million from less than 50,000.  Statehood and the arrival of jet-liner air travel brought unprecedented expansion and construction, in Waikīkī and across the Islands.

Construction’s dominant role in the state’s economy dates back to Statehood in 1959, which focused tremendous investment interest, as well as visitor interest, in Hawai‘i. Construction activity accelerated in the mid-1960s, and accounted for 8.2% of the State’s Gross State Product in 1970.

The driving force in this increase in construction was the post-statehood tourism boom and related investment activity.  The industry hit post-statehood peaks in 1960, 1970, 1975, 1980, and 1992. (DBEDT)

The image shows locations and dates of Waikīkī construction evolution (over Google Earth.)

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A Building Tells Stories About Buildings

This story is one of the unhappy stories I had while at DLNR.  We were dealing with the last of its kind – so losing it had a different, and more permanent, meaning.  I hope telling the story will help keep the memory alive.

This is not only of personal concern, at the time I was also the State Historic Preservation Officer.

Anyway, on December 27, 1850, the Honolulu Fire Department was established, by signature of King Kamehameha III, and was the first of its kind in the Hawaiian Islands, and the only Fire Department in the United States established by a ruling monarch.

Back in those early days, firefighting equipment was primarily buckets and portable water supplies.  As the department grew, several hand-drawn engine companies were added.

In 1870, the tallest structure in Honolulu was the bell tower of Central Fire Station, then-located on Union Street.  Spotters would sit in the tower, ready to sound the alarm.  Central Fire Station was later relocated to its present site at Beretania and Fort Streets.

Until 1901, most business buildings in downtown were 2-3 floors, that year the 6-floor Stangenwald Building was completed; it remained the tallest building until 1950, when the seven-story Edgewater Hotel in Waikīkī took over that title.

So, for a very long time, firefighting in Honolulu was handled pretty close to the ground, with buildings essentially accessible via hand-raised ladders.

Also, back then, with all the buildings relatively similar in scale, spotting was easy from the towers adjoining the stations and firefighting equipment was pretty consistent to deal with the similar building heights.

The old Kakaʻako Fire Station was occupied on October 1, 1929, by Engine Company Number 9.  In 1930, a hook and ladder building was constructed.  It housed a ladder truck for 20 years.

It housed the equipment that transported ladders to the downtown fires.  Its size and shape showed the scale of Honolulu’s buildings.

The lengths of the ladders on the ladder trucks were tall enough to effectively fight downtown structure fires.  Taller ladders were not needed, because Honolulu, then, did not have taller structures.

And that’s the point of this story.

When the Fire Department was going through its consultation with DLNR’s Historic Preservation Division, I got involved in the discussions when I heard they wanted to get rid of the ladder building.

It was the last of its kind (all other ladder buildings (typically attached to the various fire stations) had been removed from the other older fire stations.)  Kakaʻako had the last one.

I suspect some may wonder what the big deal was – that’s the position the Fire Department took.  What is so important about a rotting wood attachment to an historic Fire Station? (The Kakaʻako Station was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1980.)

And, with a brand spanking new Administration building going up next door, this old building was an eyesore and in the way.

We had a meeting with the top brass from the Fire Department – the Chief and his Assistant Chiefs.

I tried to convince them that simply looking at the ladder building (that they wanted to remove) helped tell the story of what Downtown Honolulu used to look like (especially in the present context of predominantly high-rise and relatively few low-rise structures.)

That building helped tell the story of the other buildings in the area and the look of Honolulu at the time.

Well, after several discussions (several of them not pleasant,) we compromised on retaining the facades of the front and rear of the ladder building, with trellising forming the height of the building (trying to give the sense of scale of the ladder building) and tiles on the ground noting the perimeter walls.

Unfortunately, during the course of construction, we were belatedly-told that the facades could not be saved and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

I’ve been back to the Station and was happy to see the tiled outline of the old ladder building in the connecting walkway between the Old Kakaʻako Station and the Administration building.

It’s difficult to imagine that Honolulu was once a low-rise central business district – and was that way for such a long time.  Fortunately, we have some representation of what it looked like, told through the tiles on the ground.

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