Images of Old Hawaiʻi

by Peter T Young Leave a Comment

What Had Long Been Feared

“What has long been feared by some, and considered a certain event by others, has happened. The Chinese quarter of Honolulu has been devastated by a fire, that, gaining headway in the dense aggregation of wooden buildings, was quickly beyond control and sweeping in all directions.” (Daily Bulletin – April 19, 1886)

It started on April 18, 1886.  A few minutes before 1 o’clock the fire started in a Chinese cook house on the corner of Hotel street and Smith’s lane. It started accidentally by the owner of the premises in lighting his fire for cooking.

“Although not a breath of wind stirred … quicker than can be told the fire was leaping from roof to roof, gliding along verandahs, entwining itself about pillars and posts, festooning doors and windows . … In the calm the smoke rose in a vast volume . . . . Both [Smith and Hotel] were soon lanes of fire.”  (Daily Bulletin – April 19, 1886)

After a seven-hour ordeal-about half of it in darkness-the walls of the last building to collapse fell in. It was exactly 11:20 and the place was the makai side of the King Street bridge leading across to the Palama district.

As the embers cooled, tempers flared.

Hawaiians of Chinatown, especially around the ʻEwa side of Maunakea Street, where they had been the greatest losers, were bitter.  They blamed it all on the Chinese.

By midnight a mob of perhaps 3,000 crowded around the King Street bridge and back to the Chinese theater. As Hawaiians itched for a fight, things could get nasty – fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and while skirmishes occurred, a full-on riot was avoided.

Honolulu’s Chinatown, then and now, is the approximate 36-acres on the ʻEwa side of Downtown Honolulu.  It developed into a Chinese dominated place, following the in-migration of Chinese to work on the sugar plantation, starting in 1852.

Between 1852 and 1876, 3,908 Chinese were imported as contract laborers, compared with only 148 Japanese and 223 South Sea Islanders. Around 1882, the Chinese in Hawaii formed nearly 49% of the total plantation working force, and for a time outnumbered Caucasians in the islands.

It had been noted, according to one observer in 1882, for the fact that the great majority of its business establishments “watchmakers’ and jewelers’ shops, shoe-shops, tailor shops, saddle and harness shops, furniture-shops, cabinet shops and bakeries, (were) all run by Chinamen with Chinese workmen.”

By 1884, the Chinese population in Honolulu reached 5,000, and the number of Chinese doing plantation work declined.   As a group they became very important in business in Hawaii, and 75% of them were concentrated in Chinatown where they built their clubhouses, herb shops, restaurants, temples and retail stores.

By 1886, there were 20,000 people living in the area between Nuʻuanu Stream, Nuʻuanu Avenue, Beretania Street and Honolulu Harbor.

Most of the structures were one- and two-story wooden shacks crammed with people, animal and pests. Chinatown had a poor water supply system and no sewage disposal.

Although the fire intensified anti-Chinese feeling, this group had long been under attack. During the 1880s, spurred by what was considered an alarming influx, the Hawaiian government had limited – and for a time halted – their coming.

The year before the fire, massive Japanese immigration started. It had been conceived and encouraged not only to man plantation fields, but also to provide a counterbalance to the Chinese.

The 1886 blaze destroyed eight blocks of Chinatown. While the government soon after established ordinances to widen the narrow streets and limit building construction to stone or brick, nothing was enforced. More ramshackle buildings went up, laying the groundwork for future disaster and disease.

The 1886 fire started at the corner of Hotel and Smith Streets.

They rebuilt.

In 1900, fire struck again.  However, in 1900, the Board of Health intentionally set “sanitary” fires to prevent further spread of the bubonic plague.  Those got out of control.

The 1900 fire caused the destruction of all premises bounded by Kukui Street, River Street, Queen Street (presently Ala Moana Boulevard) and Nuʻuanu Avenue.

Today, the majority of buildings in Chinatown date from 1901 with very few exceptions which escaped the January 20, 1900 fire.

© 2023 Hoʻokuleana LLC

 

by Peter T Young 3 Comments

Arakawas

Established over 100 years ago, “old” Waipahu was once a vibrant, multi-ethnic sugar plantation town whose key corporate element was the Oʻahu Sugar Company.  For over 85 years, Waipahu served as a major commercial center outside of Honolulu.    (Waipahu Community Association)

“In the early days of Waipahu, the parking lot behind Bank of Hawaiʻi was a wetland next to Kapakahi stream.  People who lived near the stream grew rice and watercress and had truck gardens.  All of us kids used to swim in the stream and fish for dojo, funa and goby.”  (Goro Arakawa, Clark)

Another Waipahu institution (unfortunately, now gone) was Arakawas.

Zempan Arakawa, patriarch of the Arakawa (born on August 7, 1885,) came to Hawaiʻi from Okinawa in 1905.  First working at the Oʻahu Sugar Plantation, “Arakawa got to know all the workers and what they needed. He ran errands for them. This understanding proved useful when he went into retail a few years later. He knew his customers.” (Purcell; Sigall)

The real legacy of the Arakawa family began in 1909, when Zempan and Tsuru (Ruth) Arakawa, opened their first store, Arakawa Shoten on Waipahu Street. (Okinawa Association)

In 1912 he moved the store to Depot Road, where it was in the location later taken over by Big Way market.   (Then, in 1955, he opened the 1 1/2-level store.)  (Star-Bulletin)

From humble beginnings of selling kau-kau bags and sewn tabis to Waipahu plantation workers, they expanded their business and turned Arakawas into Hawaiʻi’s best known “everything” store. If you needed to find something – you would find it at Arakawas. (Okinawa Association)

Learning from his experience working on the plantation, where Zempan took orders for sewing and mending work that he did at night, he soon recognized that the sugar workers needed functional and sturdy work clothing, at a price they could afford.  (Kawakami)

By the 1920s, palaka (typically a white plaid pattern over a dark blue background) became very popular.  The Arakawa store specialized in selling palaka fabrics to plantation workers.  They referred to palaka as gobanji, the Japanese term for a plaid or check design.  Apparently, the early immigrants used palaka only as work jackets; they did not wear palaka shirts.  (Kawakami)

When Zempan retired in 1955 his children; sons Kazuo, Takemi, Shigemi and Goro; daughters Leatrice and Joan and their husbands (Sei Kaneshiro and Horace Taba) took over the running of the store.  (In 1959, Zempan Arakawa was recognized as Father of the Year by the Honolulu Chamber of Commerce.  (Sigall))

From the 1920s to the 1960s, Arakawas was the only clothing supply and general merchandise (including food, household goods, etc) store in the area, serving the general population and Waipahu Sugar Mill workforce.  (Environet)

Eighth child, daughter Joan (who attended Wolfe Fashion Design School,) was Arakawas’ Manager of apparel and accessories. She is known for the use of palaka material and apparel that became symbolic of Arakawa.

Fourth son, Shigemi, started out as the Manager/Buyer of the Import and Gift section of Arakawas, Shigemi was often described as a “creative merchandising genius” by his siblings and wholesalers and manufacturers throughout the Pacific Rim.   (Star Advertiser)

He developed the planned chaos concept of retailing that gave the store its special ambiance and was reflected in every Arakawas’ Sunday newspaper ad.  (Star Advertiser)

Every nook and cranny was crammed with merchandise, from clothing and jewelry to hardware, food and even sporting goods.  (Star-Bulletin)

Goro Arakawa, the youngest son of Zempan and Ruth, received a marketing degree from New York University and returned home to work in the family store.  There, he wrote advertising copy that incorporated the sights and sounds of Waipahu (such as the rooster crowing radio commercials.)  (Filipino Chronicle)

Ads ended with, “Arakawa’s – located on historic Depot Road, just below the Sugar mill.”    Goro also came up with catchy slogans like “If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll find it at Arakawa’s” and “Don’t say you can’t find it until you shop at Arakawa’s.”  (Filipino Chronicle)

The 1 1/2-level store was actually the third incarnation of the small plantation store first opened by Zempan. In fact, the reason for the 1 1/2 levels was the one-half level upstairs occupied by the sporting goods. Going to Arakawa’s was like stepping back in time, back to the old sugar plantation days when life in Hawaiʻi seemed simpler and more relaxed.  (Star-Bulletin)

On buying trips around the world, he displayed an uncanny eye for finding things that would catch people’s fancy and sold goods as varied as sculptor Noguchi lamps, tapa-themed dinnerware, mosquito coils, and plastic orchid leis.  (Star Advertiser)

With the gradual decline of the sugar industry, the community’s economic and social vitality slowly began to deteriorate.  The historic town core centered on Waipahu Depot Road was devastated by the closures of the sugar mill and Bigway Market in 1999.  (Waipahu Community Association)

Through the generosity to the communities they served – Arakawas became the symbol of an era in Hawaiʻi’s history that represented hard work, sincerity, honesty and generosity of spirit. (Okinawa Association)

It was a sad day when Arakawas in Waipahu (operating from 1909 to 1995) closed its doors.  Gone was the assortment of colors and sizes of palaka wear, as well as the myriad needs filled by the diversity and depth of the merchandise in the store.

© 2023 Hoʻokuleana LLC

 

by Peter T Young Leave a Comment

“Honolulu’s Tropical Jewel”

This CW Dickey-designed structure was once referred to as “Honolulu’s Tropical Jewel.” (TheatresOfHawaii)

No one man has a more central place in Hawaiʻi’s architectural history than Charles William Dickey (1871-1942.) Born of a kamaʻāina family (his maternal grandfather was missionary Rev. William P Alexander,) he grew up on Maui, graduated from MIT in 1895 and practiced architecture in Honolulu from 1895 to 1904 and from 1920 until his death twenty-two years later.  (Neil)

“Previous Waikīkī buildings had divided into two types: the palatial – such as the Moana Hotel and the Castle residence – and the small and informal – such as the beach house of Kamehameha V. … Dickey’s 1936 design for the Waikīkī Theater is an extreme contrast.”

“His problem was to design a 1930s movie palace which would be appropriate to Hawaiʻi. He used the expected art deco with such flair and taste that the theater compares favorably with any of the type … He then made the theater appropriate.”  (Charlot)

Its initial design was based on a building at Chicago’s moderne 1933 and 1934 ‘A Century of Progress International Exposition,’ but in harmony with its island location.

The final tropical moderne design featured a large garden courtyard between the street and auditorium entrance, with lush plants surrounding a large fountain.

Inside, past fresco murals on the walls and ceiling, the atmospheric auditorium was flanked by lush artificial plants with the proscenium in the form of a rainbow, and tall artificial coconut palms on each side.  (TheatresOfHawaii)

No expense was spared in its construction and furnishings.  This was intended to be owner’s (Consolidated Amusement) deluxe flagship theater.

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)

“The auditorium is a revelation in theatrical architecture. Spacious, cool, it is acoustically correct in every detail. Perfect hearing and vision are available from every seat of the huge auditorium.”

“One of the most unique ideas in theatre ‘atmosphere’ has been incorporated in the decorations. The ceiling, done in soft blue, becomes a replica of the heavens through special lighting effects.”

“Stars twinkle, soft, fleecy clouds float about, the planets send off their soft light. The Waikīkī theatre is one of the few in the world in which this unusual lighting feature has been installed.”

“Through this lighting the great rainbow that spans the proscenium becomes a soft, misty, fairy arch rivaling in loveliness the great rainbows that arch Hawaiʻi’s skies.”  (Honolulu Advertiser, August 20, 1936; Del Valle)

“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.”

“About that time, with the house lights dimmed, someone would flip a switch and magical images of moving clouds would be projected onto the arched, midnight-blue ceiling, completing the illusion of having landed in the middle of a tropical jungle on a remote Pacific island.”

“Finally, the curtains would part and the show would start with a short cartoon and the Fox Movietone News. The ‘news’ events shown were about four weeks old by the time they got to Hawaiʻi, but that’s how we would find out what was happening in the world in those pre-television days.”  (Richard Kelley)

After successfully celebrating its first 30+years, and as the multiplex made movie-going more competitive, in 1969 the Waikīkī Theater name was relegated to Waikīkī #3 (following the construction of the Waikīkī #1 & #2 nearby.)

Renovations in the late-60s, and remodeling a decade or so later kept the theater on life support.   An expanded concession area replaced most of the forecourt, the interior decoration was removed and the auditorium draped.

“Imagine how much half an acre on Kalākaua Avenue is worth. By then, Consolidated was paying half a million dollars per year in property taxes – you have to sell a lot of popcorn to cover that.” (Lowell Angell, Theatre Historical Society of America; Hana Hou)

Waikīkī Theater (Waikīkī #3) remained a single screen theatre until it closed in late-November 2002; Waikīkī #1 & #2 closed at the same time.  They demolished all three in 2005 (the demolition started about 9-years ago, today.)

“Over the years, the movie business has changed dramatically. …  Multiplex theaters offer a variety of features almost any time of the day or night. Cartoons are now feature films. The news of the day is seen on one’s TV, laptop or cell phone.”

“The gracious theater usherettes have long since retired and have not been replaced. The guy at the door who takes your ticket is often dressed in a baggy T-shirt and jeans and barely looks up as he says, ’Your film will be shown in theater seven, second on the right.’”  (Richard Kelley)

© 2023 Hoʻokuleana LLC

 

by Peter T Young 2 Comments

Morgan’s Corner

An urban legend, urban myth, urban tale or contemporary legend, is a form of modern folklore consisting of stories that may or may not have been believed by their tellers to be true.

As with all folklore and mythology, the designation suggests nothing about the story’s genuineness, but merely that it is in circulation, exhibits variation over time and carries some significance that motivates the community in preserving and propagating it.

For one, the scenarios are the same:
  •  A couple parks on a dark, isolated road (or a Lover’s Lane)
  •  The car won’t start
  •  The girlfriend gets spooked
  •  The boyfriend says he’ll go get help
  •  He tells her not to go out, no matter what
  •  He doesn’t return
  •  There’s a strange scratching or tapping sound on the car roof
  •  Finally, the Police help her out, but tells her not to look back
  •  The boy is hanging from the tree

Sound familiar?

It’s the basis for the “Morgan’s Corner” spooky story at the Pali.  It’s also the foundation for similar stories across the country.  It may have some basis of fact some place, but no records indicate this ever happening here in Hawaiʻi.

Having said that, reportedly, some UH folks went to the reputed Morgan’s Corner on the Windward side of Old Pali Road and “took photographs looking up into the tree, and when the film was developed, the seventh frame contained a large white object.”

“The photographer, 10 witnesses and the chemical laboratory that analyzed the image for processing errors vouched for the image’s authenticity. … it appeared to be a body hanging from the tree, photographed from below.”  (Burlingame)

Hmmm.

Wait … there really is a ‘Morgan’s Corner’ (well, sort of.)  And, a murder did happen there; and, it’s on the Old Pali Road (on the town side of the Pali.)

This story ended with a change in a significant law in the Islands.

It happened at the “S” turn on Nuʻuanu Pali Drive.  Dr Morgan lived on the mauka side of the road – but the story is not about him.

Across the street, at 3939 Pali Road (now known as Nuʻuanu Pali Drive – where a condo project now sits, just above the small waterfall) lived Mrs Therese Adele Wilder (widow of William Chauncey “Chan” Wilder.)  That’s where this story took place.

On March 11, 1948, inmates James Majors (21) and John Palakiko (19) escaped from a prison work crew.  They made their way to Nuʻuanu and, looking for food, they came across – and into – Wilder’s home.

Wilder, in her late-60s, was attacked – she died.

“Her hands were bound, she was gagged, and there were traces of what appeared to be dried blood about her nose and mouth. There was evidence of a blow on the head, but (her physician) said that she might have died from suffocation brought about by the gag which the intruders forced into her mouth.”  (Honolulu Star-Bulletin, March 16, 1948)

Majors and Palakiko were charged.  There was public hysteria, irate community leaders, newspaper calls for “swift justice” and, later, confessions from the two.

Both men were convicted and sentenced to hang.

So, what about the significant law change?

Between August 18, 1897 and September 16, 1943, 47 people were executed at Oʻahu Prison under Hawai‘i’s capital punishment law.  All were male.

They ranged in age from 19 to 61. One was Caucasian, 3 were Hawaiian, 24 were Filipino, 10 were Japanese, 6 were Korean and 3 were Puerto Rican.  (hawaii-edu)

The last recorded execution in Hawai‘i had occurred on January 7, 1944.

With respect to the Majors-Palakiko case, while Honolulu attorney Harriet Bouslog had not represented the men at trial she had followed it closely.

On the eve of the scheduled execution, she swiftly took up the death-row appeals after being challenged by a friend at a dinner party: “I’ll bet you can’t do anything about it.”

She convinced Territorial Governor, Oren E Long, to grant a brief stay of execution. Even after “the lengthiest hearing in the history” of the Territorial Supreme Court, Bouslog failed to obtain relief.

She immediately filed an appeal and requested a stay of execution. … It was 4 am. The prisoners were being given last rites.

Appeals to the federal Court of Appeals and to the United States Supreme Court followed without success.  (hawaii-edu)

However, the lengthy legal process enabled a groundswell of public support for the two to develop, especially when folks learned of claims of police brutality and forced confessions.

In 1954, new governor, Samuel W King, granted a commutation of both sentences to life in prison.

Following this, the legislature passed House Bill 706 on June 4, 1957.  It called for revising the law relating to capital punishment by providing “a sentence of imprisonment at hard labor for life not subject to parole.”

Governor King signed it the following day, thus abolishing the death penalty in Hawaiʻi.

Then, in 1962, Governor John Burns pardoned the men (after their executions had been stayed five times.)

© 2023 Hoʻokuleana LLC

by Peter T Young 2 Comments

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”.

© 2023 Hoʻokuleana LLC