01-27-2008, 03:41 PM
I was reading the “Hawaii Super Ferry – Good or Bad?” thread and was thinking about what life was like in the island before the advent of the SuperFerry. Then I thought why stop there? Let’s go back – way back. What was life like before regularly scheduled trans-Pacific jet service began to Hawaii in the 1960’s? Or even further back…..what was life like before the Second World War? Or the First World War?
Of course, it was a living Hell.
What really started me thinking about all this was seeing and hearing Bill Tapia last night. Bill Tapia is a musician who was born in Honolulu on January 1, 1908. Mathematicians will note well that Bill turned 100 on January 1, 2008. One Hundred Years Old. Older than you or me. And yet he was the featured performer at the closing of an exhibit on the ukulele sponsored by the Museum of Making Music in Carlsbad, California, just ten miles from my California home. I went with there my friend, Monica, who owns the lot across from me in Hawaiian Paradise Park. We are both scheming over our transition to Hawai’i and welcome any reminder of the island.
The Museum arranged for an amazing array of ukulele musicians who played in a wide variety of styles from Tin-Pan Alley, to Tiki Lounge. One musician who really brought the islands to us was Joe Souza. Joe is a luthier who lives in Kaneohe, Oahu, who also performs. Joe is generously proportioned and handsome. He brought his wife, Kristen with him.
Joe explained that he was a fan of a style of music best exemplified by Gabby Pahinui, who often sang in type of male falsetto called <<ha’i>>. I forget what song by Gabby he sang, as the only song I know by Gabby is <<Hilawe>>. Joe sang the first chorus in Hawaiian using a normal voice. In the meantime, his lovely wife Kristen took the stage in a skin tight orange leotard and began doing the hula --there on an unadorned stage, in a large conference room, in front of beige curtains in a museum in California on a cold January night. Then Joe executed a key change that kicked the song up a notch and began singing in the classic male Hawaiian falsetto style. I sat forward in my chair as this sound brought all of the images I have ever collected of the islands rushing into the room, into my mind, and then into my heart. Magically, the room was transformed through the simple mechanism of a haole woman who had completely mastered the hula, her big boy husband who had mastered his own little instrument and through the immortal words of an ancient Hawaiian mele.
My friend, Monica and I spontaneously burst into tears at the same time.
The museum spared no expense on air fare and so Joe was followed by a guy who confessed that everything he learned about the ukulele was “East of the Mississippi”. He was good, in a gimmicky, tongue in cheek Tin Pan Alley kind of way.
There was an intermission and I introduced myself to fellow Punatic Andy, who is building a house in Leilani Estates. He lives in Santa Cruz and heads up the ukulele club there. I told Andy that I heard Leilani was gorgeous and he said "the whole area is gorgeous!!". I didn't disagree. (By the way, Andy will be on island Wednesday, so please say "hi").
Intermission ended and them came Bill. I had never heard of Bill Tapia before last night, but I will never forget him. He was escorted to the stage by Pat Palika Enos, whose father headed a popular hotel band on Oahu long ago. Bill used to play in Pat’s father’s band. And in the true “ohana” spirit, Pat took Bill in, and so Bill is now living with Pat and his wife in Huntington Beach, California.
Bill was wearing white-striped crimson pants, a cream-colored blazer, spats, and brass collar studs. His ukulele was deep red. Before he even plucked a note he commanded attention. At last he began to play in a very jazzy style, graced with Hawaiian vamps and very, very retro.
If you have never seen an one-hundred year old man play an instrument better than you can, all I can tell you is that it is an experience.
Between songs, he told us about how he came to play the ukulele. Seems that when he was about 8 years old in 1918 (First World War), there was a kanikapila (musical get together) on his street every single night. Hawaiians, Portuguese and others would come out in the street and entertain each other by playing music. Apparently, there was no Oceanic cable in 1918. One night, the ukulele player left his axe unattended while on break. Bill picked it up and someone taught him the C, F and G chords. He took it from there. He used to be a driver for one of the Honolulu hotels. He would drive the guests to incredible lookout points and then play guitar or ukulele for them. That was in the 1930’s.
People talk about watching their life passing before their eyes. Listening to Bill Tapia was like watching the previous century, and part of this one, pass before your eyes and ears.
As I looked at and listened to this spectacular display –this walking,talking, joke-cracking, ukulele playing museum piece, I wondered to myself “What was life like before the SuperFerry? Before Wal-Mart and Costco? Before Kona was Kalifornicated, before free trade and plenty of cheap Chinese goods, before Ice, before the screaming little frog, before Matson, before the United States turned Oahu into a military base in an effort to keep Japan in check, before the ships and innocent young crewmen in Pearl Harbor were sent to a warm, but watery, grave, before the flappers and before the first World War --a war that took place in a world beyond the islands. Back when people gathered in the street in the evening to play music, to drink and blaspheme non-Christian gods and gathered in little grass shacks to whisper “ke aloha ku‘uipo” to one another.
What must life have been like before the SuperFerry, before frequent interisland flights, before the islands were civilized?
I don't really know, but Bill Tapia probably knows.
It must have been simply awful. A living hell.
Bill closed with “Young at heart”.
Long live the SuperFerry. But may Bill Tapia live even longer.
Of course, it was a living Hell.
What really started me thinking about all this was seeing and hearing Bill Tapia last night. Bill Tapia is a musician who was born in Honolulu on January 1, 1908. Mathematicians will note well that Bill turned 100 on January 1, 2008. One Hundred Years Old. Older than you or me. And yet he was the featured performer at the closing of an exhibit on the ukulele sponsored by the Museum of Making Music in Carlsbad, California, just ten miles from my California home. I went with there my friend, Monica, who owns the lot across from me in Hawaiian Paradise Park. We are both scheming over our transition to Hawai’i and welcome any reminder of the island.
The Museum arranged for an amazing array of ukulele musicians who played in a wide variety of styles from Tin-Pan Alley, to Tiki Lounge. One musician who really brought the islands to us was Joe Souza. Joe is a luthier who lives in Kaneohe, Oahu, who also performs. Joe is generously proportioned and handsome. He brought his wife, Kristen with him.
Joe explained that he was a fan of a style of music best exemplified by Gabby Pahinui, who often sang in type of male falsetto called <<ha’i>>. I forget what song by Gabby he sang, as the only song I know by Gabby is <<Hilawe>>. Joe sang the first chorus in Hawaiian using a normal voice. In the meantime, his lovely wife Kristen took the stage in a skin tight orange leotard and began doing the hula --there on an unadorned stage, in a large conference room, in front of beige curtains in a museum in California on a cold January night. Then Joe executed a key change that kicked the song up a notch and began singing in the classic male Hawaiian falsetto style. I sat forward in my chair as this sound brought all of the images I have ever collected of the islands rushing into the room, into my mind, and then into my heart. Magically, the room was transformed through the simple mechanism of a haole woman who had completely mastered the hula, her big boy husband who had mastered his own little instrument and through the immortal words of an ancient Hawaiian mele.
My friend, Monica and I spontaneously burst into tears at the same time.
The museum spared no expense on air fare and so Joe was followed by a guy who confessed that everything he learned about the ukulele was “East of the Mississippi”. He was good, in a gimmicky, tongue in cheek Tin Pan Alley kind of way.
There was an intermission and I introduced myself to fellow Punatic Andy, who is building a house in Leilani Estates. He lives in Santa Cruz and heads up the ukulele club there. I told Andy that I heard Leilani was gorgeous and he said "the whole area is gorgeous!!". I didn't disagree. (By the way, Andy will be on island Wednesday, so please say "hi").
Intermission ended and them came Bill. I had never heard of Bill Tapia before last night, but I will never forget him. He was escorted to the stage by Pat Palika Enos, whose father headed a popular hotel band on Oahu long ago. Bill used to play in Pat’s father’s band. And in the true “ohana” spirit, Pat took Bill in, and so Bill is now living with Pat and his wife in Huntington Beach, California.
Bill was wearing white-striped crimson pants, a cream-colored blazer, spats, and brass collar studs. His ukulele was deep red. Before he even plucked a note he commanded attention. At last he began to play in a very jazzy style, graced with Hawaiian vamps and very, very retro.
If you have never seen an one-hundred year old man play an instrument better than you can, all I can tell you is that it is an experience.
Between songs, he told us about how he came to play the ukulele. Seems that when he was about 8 years old in 1918 (First World War), there was a kanikapila (musical get together) on his street every single night. Hawaiians, Portuguese and others would come out in the street and entertain each other by playing music. Apparently, there was no Oceanic cable in 1918. One night, the ukulele player left his axe unattended while on break. Bill picked it up and someone taught him the C, F and G chords. He took it from there. He used to be a driver for one of the Honolulu hotels. He would drive the guests to incredible lookout points and then play guitar or ukulele for them. That was in the 1930’s.
People talk about watching their life passing before their eyes. Listening to Bill Tapia was like watching the previous century, and part of this one, pass before your eyes and ears.
As I looked at and listened to this spectacular display –this walking,talking, joke-cracking, ukulele playing museum piece, I wondered to myself “What was life like before the SuperFerry? Before Wal-Mart and Costco? Before Kona was Kalifornicated, before free trade and plenty of cheap Chinese goods, before Ice, before the screaming little frog, before Matson, before the United States turned Oahu into a military base in an effort to keep Japan in check, before the ships and innocent young crewmen in Pearl Harbor were sent to a warm, but watery, grave, before the flappers and before the first World War --a war that took place in a world beyond the islands. Back when people gathered in the street in the evening to play music, to drink and blaspheme non-Christian gods and gathered in little grass shacks to whisper “ke aloha ku‘uipo” to one another.
What must life have been like before the SuperFerry, before frequent interisland flights, before the islands were civilized?
I don't really know, but Bill Tapia probably knows.
It must have been simply awful. A living hell.
Bill closed with “Young at heart”.
Long live the SuperFerry. But may Bill Tapia live even longer.
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