Images of Old Hawaiʻi

by Peter T Young Leave a Comment

‘Bloody Monday’

In 1935, as part of the New Deal initiatives, Congress passed the Wagner Act legalizing workers’ rights to join and be represented by labor unions.

In Hawaiʻi, business was dominated by the Big Five: Alexander & Baldwin, C. Brewer, Castle & Cooke, AmFac and Theo. Davies.  Nearly everything of significance, from banks to shipping lines and sugar plantations to newspapers, was tightly controlled by the Big Five.

One third of the population of the islands was living on the plantations, with seventy percent of the people directly dependent on plantation economy.

The Hilo Longshoremen’s Association was formed on November 22, 1935, when about 30 young longshoremen of almost every ethnic and racial origin common to the territory agreed to join forces and organize all the waterfront workers regardless of race or national origin.

By the summer of 1937, with the help of the longshoremen, Hilo had the following unions: Hilo Laundry Workers’ Association, Hilo Longshoremen’s Association, Hilo Canec Association, Hilo Clerks’ Association, Hilo Railroad Association and the Honuʻapo Longshoremen’s Association.

By 1938, during the height of the Great Depression, labor discontent escalated over low pay and poor working conditions.  Negotiations were underway between the unions and employers on two major issues: 1) parity or equity of wages and conditions with the West Coast workers; and 2) the closed or union shop or some kind preferential hiring arrangement.

But Hawai’i employers were committed to fight the issue of wage parity or mainland wage standards in every industry as a matter of principle.

The Hilo Longshoremen’s Association struck against the Inter-Island Steamship Navigation Co.

The Inter-Island Steam Navigation Co., Ltd. had been controlled since 1925 by Matson Navigation and Castle & Cooke, the days before commercial airline transport between the islands.  Its ships carried virtually all passenger and light freight traffic.

After three weeks of striking, the unions had decided to fall back somewhat and draw their line at the return of the two larger ships, the SS Waiʻaleʻale and the SS Hualalai.

Inter-Island scheduled another return of the Waiʻaleʻale to Hilo Harbor.  Expecting confrontation, the night before the scheduled arrival, nearly 70-Police officers and special volunteer deputies began to assemble at the wharf to be sure that the union men would not get there before they did.

They had a small arsenal of 52-riot guns with bayonets, 4-Thompson sub-machine guns, tear gas grenades and an adequate supply of ammunition including both buckshot and birdshot cartridges for the riot guns.

In addition, the Hilo Fire Department was assigned to dispatch a pumping truck and enough firemen as might be needed to repulse the marchers with water hoses.

In addition to the official police force that was assembling, the Inter-Island Navigation Company had also prepared a squad of its own ‘specials.’

The Waiʻaleʻale was expected around 9 am on August 1, 1938.  Some of the longshoremen started to gather as early as 6:30 am, and by 8:30 the majority of the unionists began to arrive.

Over two hundred men and women belonging to several different labor unions attempted to peacefully demonstrate against the arrival of the SS Waiʻaleʻale in Hilo.

Without any specific order, the crowd formed up and began to march down singing as they went, “The more we get together, together, together; The more we get together, the better we’ll be!” While in the back the women were singing, “Hail, hail the gang’s all here.”

They were met by a force of police officers who tear gassed, hosed and finally fired their riot guns into the crowd.  In the scuffle, at least 16 rounds of ammunition were fired: seven birdshot and nine buckshot.

When it was over, fifty people, including two women and two children, had been shot; at least one man bayoneted and another’s jaw nearly broken for speaking up for his fallen brother.

In the confusion and uncertainty of the moment, the remaining, uninjured unionists left the docks Monday afternoon and the Waiʻaleʻale was unloaded without incident. But that night a rally was held at Moʻoheau Park which was attended by a huge crowd.

Reminiscent of the violence unleashed in the West Coast Strike four years earlier, the Hilo shooting closely paralleled the San Francisco police attack of July 5th that had left two strikers slain and a hundred others wounded.

The West Coast event had been called Bloody Thursday; here, they were already calling August 1st Hilo’s Bloody Monday.

The strike was soon settled.

A Grand Jury found: “That evidence is not sufficient to warrant an indictment against any person or group of persons”.  The union subsequently filed a lawsuit for damages, which they lost.

Lots of information and images here are from Hawaii-edu and The Hilo Massacre: Hawaii’s Bloody Monday, August 1st, 1938 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii, Center for Labor Education & Research, 1988.)

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by Peter T Young Leave a Comment

One of the Shortest Flights in Hawaiʻi Aviation History

The history of aviation on the Big Island dates back to June 10, 1911, when Clarence H Walker came to Hilo for an exhibition flight in his Curtiss Biplane.  There were no airports on the island, so Hoʻolulu Park was selected for the runway.

The notoriety of this flight wasn’t really about its length, nor that it was the first flight on the Island of Hawaiʻi – its ending is its acclaim … but that is getting ahead of the story.

In 1911, Walker and Didier Masson teamed up and, on their way to Australia, stopped in Hawaiʻi.  The former’s biplane was on board, so was the new Mrs Walker.

During May, 1911, Dexter P Dorgan of the Continental Aviation Company, San Francisco, arrived in Honolulu to arrange flight demonstrations by pilots Walker and Masson.

A young millionaire, Walker originally took up flying as a pastime.  He built his own airplane at Salt Lake City but, unable to make it fly, decided to take bona fide flying lessons then buy an airplane of standard construction – purchasing a Curtiss biplane (60 hp) for $6,500.

From Honolulu Walker and his wife made their way Hilo; they were there for flight demonstrations by Walker out of Hoʻolulu Park, a horseracing facility in Hilo.

Inspecting the facilities, Walker noted the enclosure was too small for easy take-offs, but indicated a willingness to make a flight from the grounds.  Two days were agreed upon, Saturday & Sunday, June 10 & 11. The Hilo Railway set up a special schedule to handle the expected crowds.

The flyer made several test flights prior to public demonstrations, thus giving Big Islanders their first view of an airplane in action.  The paying crowd which had gathered was disappointingly small; most of the local people were planning on Sunday for the aerial show.

The aviator got ready.

The biplane rose rapidly amidst enthusiastic cheers.  However, from the beginning, the 8-cylinder engine was heard to misfire, the plane’s wings tipping from side to side.  He flew to the edge of the ocean, then decided on a quick landing and headed back to the field.

Then, a gust of wind caught and dashed the airplane into a 25-foot high lauhala tree. Four or five of the boys perched on the tall tree were knocked to the ground. The tall tree’s outstretched branches served to soften the plane’s fall, destroying the plane; Walker survived the crash.

Walker emerged from the wreckage and climbed onto the race track fence to show crowds, including his wife, that he was unhurt. This dramatic gesture was marred somewhat when fence boards gave way, sending Walker to the ground.

Repairs to his wrecked biplane were arranged with Hilo mechanics and the young couple boarded an interisland ship for Honolulu to join Masson and the others.

Walker later said, “I thought of landing in the ocean and then on the beach, but the water looked too deep and the beach was too full of boulders.”

The local paper carried the aviation story on its front page.  It stated that spectators got their money’s worth, seeing the airplane fly “but also had a chance to realize the danger of the sport, when Aviator Walker’s biplane came to a sudden stop in the branches of a lauhala tree.”

Walker received $1,250, the contracted fee, and the promoter lost approximately $1,000 due to one day’s demonstrations having to be cancelled.

This was the first aircraft accident in the Islands.

That didn’t deter the dream of aviation on the Big Island; 8-years later (May 9, 1918,) Army Major Harold Clark and Sgt Robert Gray left Kahului Harbor on the second leg of their flight from Honolulu to Hilo.

Their Curtiss R-6 seaplane got lost in the dense clouds over Kaiwiki and Clark was forced to land in the forest near the volcano.  Clark and Gray walked for two days before being found.  Their plane was later recovered.

The first successful flight from Honolulu to the Big Island was made on March 24, 1919 by Army Maj Hugh Kneer in a US Army hydroplane A-1816.  He landed in Kūhiō Bay.  He carried a bag of US mail, thus beginning air mail service between Honolulu and Hilo by Army planes.

In December 1920, a ramp was built by the Hawaiian Contracting Company in Radio Bay in Hilo to haul visiting seaplanes from the bay onto land.

Army Maj. Gen. Charles P Summerall visited Hilo on September 23, 1921 to look for sites for a landing field on the Big Island.  He recommended that the county build a landing field 600-feet long and 200-feet wide in or near Hoʻolulu Park.  Despite the recommendations of both the Army and the Hilo Board of Trade, the County of Hilo failed to finance the airstrip.

Reportedly, an article in the Hilo Tribune Herald, Army Lt. Joseph A. Wilson flew his DeHaviland over Hilo on December 4, 1924, circled the city and dropped a message in Mooheau Park addressed to the Hilo Chamber of Commerce.

 It read, “We would like to drop in and see you this morning if you only had a landing field.  Air Service Unit, Wheeler Field, is visiting Parker Ranch.  Kohala is condemning 12 acres of cane field for landing field. Lieut. JA Wilson.”

And thus began the effort to construct a landing field in Hilo.  (Information here is from hawaii-gov.)

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by Peter T Young Leave a Comment

Juzaburo Sakamaki

On May 3, 1899, Ben F Dillingham, Lorrin A Thurston, Alfred W Carter, Samuel M Damon and William H Shipman formed the Olaʻa Sugar Company and started what they believed would become Hawaii’s largest and most prosperous sugar plantation.

By that time (and in the years following,) numerous foreign immigrants came to the Islands to work on the sugar plantations, including Olaʻa.

There were three big waves of workforce immigration: Chinese 1852; Japanese 1885; and Filipinos 1905.  Several smaller, but substantial, migrations also occurred: Portuguese 1877; Norwegians 1880; Germans 1881; Puerto Ricans 1900; Koreans 1902 and Spanish 1907.

With the respective language barriers created by the influx of foreigners, plantations assigned interpreters to open lines of communication with the workers.

One of those at Olaʻa was Juzaburo Sakamaki.

In 1869, Sakamaki was the youngest child born in Hirosaki-Shi, Aomori-Ken, Japan to Hisao Sakamaki and Fumi Takasaki.  His father died when he was 4; to make ends meet, his mother had to run a private boardinghouse.

Inspired by a letter from a friend, at 15, without telling his mother, he stowed away on a ship bound for California to start a new life.  After arriving in the US, Sakamaki went East to Pennsylvania, where he spent nine years studying and working.

Receiving word that his mother was ill, he decided to return home. By the time he reached Hawaiʻi, he learned that she was already dead, so he canceled his plans to go on to Japan.

At about this time, Olaʻa Sugar Company was established, and he was hired as the company’s only regular interpreter.

As interpreter, Sakamaki was the only pipeline between the company and the Japanese immigrants who made up the majority of the labor force at Olaʻa Plantation.

As assistant postmaster of the Olaʻa post office, Sakamaki was also involved in all the daily activities of the Japanese there.   As the agent of the Consulate General of Japan in Honolulu he was also in charge of administering the immigrants’ family register items.

In this capacity, he not only dealt with registrations of births, deaths, marriages, adoptions and other family matters, he handled remittances that workers sent home.

Growing immigrant population, including those from Japan, started to concern some, in the Islands, as well as on the continent.

In part, this was referred to as the “Japanese Problem” (their numbers were growing, racial conflicts were developing and the military feared Japanese expansion.)

Likewise, there was discontent among the sugar workers.  This came to a head in 1920.

Demanding increases in pay, in 1920, Japanese and Filipino sugar workers on Oʻahu struck the plantations – approximately 6,000-workers, over three quarters of the labor force, walked off the job (only Oʻahu workers walked off, they relied on the neighbor islands for support.)

Though the strike was on Oʻahu, its impact was felt at Olaʻa.

A small item in the June 4, 1920 Honolulu Star Bulletin noted, “The home of a Japanese eight miles from Olaa was blown up with giant powder last night.” The newspaper did not give the name of the victim, but it reported that the man was in a back bedroom at the time and was not killed, even though the front of the house was destroyed.  (UC Press)

It turns out the attack was on Sakamaki’s home.

“It was about eleven o’clock pm that night of the third of June … I was awokened by sound and, of course, didn’t realize that it was an explosion; first thought it was water-tank fell or something; anyway, I was awokened by the sound, and my wife was in another room and she called me …”

“‘What was that sound? What was that noise?’ Then a little later my boy said he smelled powder; then I realized it was an explosion.”

The dynamite had been set under the floor between the parlor and the dining room on the mauka side; the side of the house had been blown off.

Sakamaki had sided with management during the labor disputes of 1920.  The Territory of Hawai’i charged leaders of the Federation of Japanese Labor with conspiracy to assassinate Sakamaki in order to intimidate opponents of the strike and alleged, further, that the strike was part of a concerted effort to take over the Islands by Japan.

The trial for conspiracy in the first degree began on Wednesday, February 1, 1922, in the First Circuit Court in Honolulu.  Of the twenty-one defendants charged in the indictment, fifteen appeared in court every day. Their names were called each morning at the start of each court session in this order: Goto, Miyazawa, Tsutsumi, Kawamata, Furusho, Hoshino, Takizawa, Baba, Tomota, Ishida, Koyama, Kondo, Sazo, Sato Fujitani and Murakami.  (UC Press)

The indictment read: “On 27th of May 1920, (the accused) did maliciously or fraudulently combine, or mutually undertake or consort together to commit a felony, to wit, to unlawfully use and cause to be exploded dynamite or other explosive chemicals of substance for the purpose of inflicting bodily injury upon one J. Sakamaki.”

It took the jury less than five hours to reach a verdict on the fifteen defendants.

Judge Banks then sentenced all the defendants to “be imprisoned in Oʻahu prison at hard labor for the term of not less than four years nor more than ten years.”  (UC Press)

By the early 1920s many Americans had begun to look at Japan and the Japanese with deep suspicion. Some suggest it was the catalyst for legislation restricting immigration into the US.

The subsequent Johnson Reed Immigration Quota Act ((Immigration Act of 1924) limiting the annual number of immigrants who could be admitted from any country to 2% of the number of people from that country who were already living in the United States in 1890 (down from the 3% cap set by the Immigration Restriction Act of 1921)) passed both houses of Congress with overwhelming majorities: in the House 308 to 58 and in the Senate 69 to 9.

(As an aside, Sakamaki Hall at the University of Hawaiʻi – Mānoa is named for Juzaburo’s son, Shunzo Sakamaki, a prominent administrator and Asian history professor at the University of Hawaii, from 1936 until his retirement in 1970.)

(A controversial aspect of Shunzo Sakamaki’s career concerns his work with the FBI beginning in 1940 aimed at identifying Japanese Americans in Hawaiʻi who should be considered dangerous in the event of war with Japan. While he believed that the vast majority of Japanese Americans in Hawaiʻi were loyal to the United States, he was on record as believing that Shinto priests in Hawaii should be interned.)  (UH-Mānoa)  (Lots of information here from a book by Masayo Umezawa Duus.)

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by Peter T Young 2 Comments

Hilo Railroad Company – Hawaiian Consolidated Railway

The Treaty of Reciprocity (1875) between the United States and the Kingdom of Hawai‘i eliminated the major trade barrier to Hawai‘i’s closest and major market.  Through the treaty and its amendments, the US obtained Pearl Harbor and Hawai‘i’s sugar planters received duty-free entry into US markets for their sugar.

At the industry’s peak in the 1930s, Hawaiʻi’s sugar plantations employed more than 50,000 workers and produced more than 1-million tons of sugar a year; over 254,500-acres were planted in sugar.

Sugar cultivation exploded on the Big Island.  As a means to transport sugar and other goods, railroading was introduced to the Islands in 1879.

On March 28, 1899, Dillingham received a charter to build the original eight miles of the Hilo Railroad that connected the Olaʻa sugar mill to Waiākea, that was soon to become the location of Hilo’s deep water port.

Rail line extensions continued.  Extensions were soon built to Pāhoa, where the Pahoa Lumber Company was manufacturing ʻōhia and koa railroad ties for export to the Santa Fe Railroad.

Although not the first railway on the Big Island, the Hilo Railroad was arguably the most ambitious.  The Olaʻa line was completed in 1900, immediately followed by a seventeen mile extension to Kapoho, home of the Puna Sugar Company plantation.

Immediately after that two branch lines were constructed (also to sugar plantations,) and then the railroad was extended north into Hilo itself.

All the sugar grown in East Hawaiʻi, in Puna and on the Hāmākua Coast, was transported by rail to Hilo Harbor, where it was loaded onto ships bound for the continent.

An early account stated that the rail line crossed over 12,000 feet in bridges, 211 water openings under the tracks, and individual steel spans up to 1,006 feet long and 230 feet in height.

Some of the most notable were those over Maulua and Honoliʻi gulches, the Wailuku River and Laupāhoehoe.  Over 3,100 feet of tunnels were constructed, one of which, the Maulua Tunnel, was over half a mile in length.

While the main business of the railroad remained the transport of raw sugar and other products to and from the mills,  it also provided passenger service.

A chiefly tourist line, branching from Olaʻa, was built inland 12.5 miles up the mountain to Glenwood where visitors to the Volcano House near Kilauea Volcano would then transfer to buses. Due to stiff competition from motor vehicles, the Glenwood extension was scaled back to Mountain View in 1932.

Between 1909 and 1913, the Hāmākua Division of the railroad was constructed to service the sugar mills north of Hilo. Unfortunately, the cost of building the Hāmākua extension essentially destroyed the Hilo Railroad, which was sold in 1916 and reorganized as the Hawaiʻi Consolidated Railway.

Targeting tourists to augment local passenger and raw sugar transport, the Hawaiʻi Consolidated Railway ran sightseeing specials under the name “Scenic Express.”

Not for the faint of heart, these trips included a stop on the trestles, where passengers disembarked to admire the outstanding scenery.

The Great Depression saw a decrease in business, but business picked up in the 1940s, when thousands of battle-weary troops packed the passenger cars en route to Camp Tarawa, in Waimea, to rest, recuperate and prepare for another campaign.

But the end was near for the Hawaiʻi Consolidated Railway. Early in the morning of April 1, 1946, a massive tsunami struck Hawaiʻi. The railroad line between Hilo and Paʻauilo suffered massive damage; bridges collapsed, trestles tumbled and one engine was literally swept off the tracks.

The expensive option of rebuilding the railway was rejected. Hawaiʻi Consolidated offered the rights-of-way, tracks and remaining bridges, trestles and tunnels to the Territory of Hawaiʻi, but the offer was refused, and finally the company sold the entire works to the Gilmore Steel and Supply Company.

Shortly thereafter, realizing its error, the Territory bought it all back.  Much of the current highway along the coast follows the route of the old railroad; five original railroad trestles have been converted into highway bridges.  (This route averaged better than one bridge per mile over its 40-mile length.)

At the time of the tsunami, plantations were already phasing out rail in favor of trucking cane from the field to the mill. It was inevitable that trucking would also replace rail as the primary means of transporting sugar to the harbor. The tsunami accelerated that transition.

Most sugar from Hāmākua was trucked to Hilo Harbor, although the Hāmākua Sugar Company continued to use its offshore cable landing at Honokaʻa until 1948.

A few remnants of the railway are still visible. Hawaiʻi Consolidated’s yards were in the Waiākea district of Hilo, where the roundhouse still stands today, next to the county swimming pool on Kalanikoa Street.

In Laupāhoehoe, a concrete platform remains where Hula dancers once performed for tourists. And the Laupāhoehoe Train Museum is housed in the former home of Mr. Stanley, the superintendent of maintenance.

Today, the Laupāhoehoe Train Museum and Visitors Center keeps the memory of Hawaiʻi Consolidated Railway alive.  Although the Laupāhoehoe Train Museum is among the state’s smallest museums, it attracts an estimated 5,000 visitors a year. The admission fee is $4 for adults, $3 for seniors, and $2 for students. Special rates for tours are also offered.

The museum is open weekdays from 9 am to 4:30 pm and on weekends from 10 am to 2 pm. The address is 36-2377 Māmalahoa Highway, Laupāhoehoe, Hawaiʻi 96764.  (Lots of information here for Laupāhoehoe Train Museum and Ian Birnie.)

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by Peter T Young 1 Comment

“Excuse my back”

Conversation at Waikīkī: “I see Ed Sawtelle’s back” “I didn’t know he had been away” “I said that I see Ed Sawtelle’s back’s the best known back in Honolulu. I want to see the face in front of the back for once.”

“Ed Sawtelle doesn’t need to say ‘Excuse my back’ when he sits at the console of the great Robert Morton Organ in the Waikīkī Theater: that tall swaying silhouette under the proscenium lights is his signature.  (Blanding, Honolulu Star-Bulletin, March 27, 1954)

Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Sawtelle is a graduate of Harvard, where he majored in music, and a graduate of the New England Conservatory of Music where he studied under two of the nation’s outstanding authorities, Professor Henry Dunham and Professor Wallace Goodrich.

For some time, Sawtelle was with the Boston Symphony, and for three years was accompanist with the Boston Opera House. He entered the theatrical field in New York, and has been organist and musical director in theaters in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, Atlanta, and Boston.

For many years, Sawtelle was associated with the Robert Morton Organ Company demonstrating and installing theatrical organs. In this particular field he was considered one at the greatest authorities in the country.

Sawtelle first came to Hawaiʻi in 1922 as organist at the opening of the Princess Theater. While here he was organist at the Hawaiʻi Theater, and went to Hilo to open the Palace Theater as organist and musical director. He returned to Honolulu to open the new Waikīkī Theater.

Leaving Hawaii in 1929, Sawtelle was featured on the radio in San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York. A concert tour took him through the major centers of the nation.

Mrs. Sawtelle returned to Honolulu with her husband. She, too, is noted in the field of music, having appeared throughout the country on concert tour as Carmen Prentice, mezzo-soprano.

Not only did Sawtelle supervise the building of the Hammond organ for the Waikīkī Theater, but he brought it to Honolulu with him, and has supervised the installation at the new playhouse.  (Honolulu Advertiser, August 20, 1936)

As organist for the Consolidated Amusement Company since 1922 with only a break of seven years from 1929 to 1936, Ed meant “moods, memories and music” to Honolulu audiences.

During the war years his audiences extended far beyond the limits of the movie palaces to little lonely atolls in the deep Pacific, to hospitals and observation posts in the Islands, and to ships at sea as his Star Dust Serenade went out over the airwaves to reach and sooth the homesick hearts of men and women in the service.   (Blanding, Honolulu Star-Bulletin, March 27, 1954)

Starting in 1937, Sawtelle played the new organ at intermissions and on weekly live radio broadcasts heard throughout the Pacific during World War II. For a time, Sawtelle played two shows a day, seven days a week. He eventually retired in 1955, but a succession of organists carried on the tradition through 1997.

The 1,353-seat Waikīkī Theater opened with great fanfare on August 20, 1936.  “This first-class theatre survived as a single-screen house its entire life.”  (TheatresOfHawaii)   Dickey created an environment as charming and artificial as the image on the screen.  (Charlot)

In 1939, the Waikīkī Theatre was equipped with a Robert Morton theatre organ, which had originally been installed (with a twin console) in the Hawaiʻi Theatre in 1929.  (Peterson)

“No theater in the world has a more picturesque setting than Waikīkī.  Situated on the beach at Waikīkī, it stands on the site where once Hawaiʻi’s royalty played.  The playhouse now becomes a glorious new addition to the beach made famous in song and story.  It is the new center of activity of that district which long been the mecca of travelers from the world over.”  (Honolulu Advertiser; Alder)

“Inside the theater, it felt as if you were in a tropical paradise. A full-colored rainbow arched over the curtains that hid the screen. Along the side walls, there were palm trees that reached from floor to ceiling and lush jungle plants, which appeared absolutely real to my child’s eyes.”

“Then, a distinguished gentleman named Ed Sawtelle would appear and sit down at a large organ console, located just below and in front of the stage, and begin a concert that filled the hall with rolling music that vibrated off the walls.”  (Richard Kelley)

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