Spirit of Aloha | Features | July/August 2007

Morphing Waikīkī
By John Wythe White

Overthrowing the old, reinventing the new

PHOTO: DOUGLAS PEEBLES PHOTO: DAVID SCHRICHTE / PHOTO RESOURCE HAWAI‘I PHOTO: DARRELL ISHII PHOTO: TOM CHAPMAN

That Was Then

In the early ’70s, when I was renting a house on St. Louis Heights, friends from California came to visit. There was no space to board them in the house—six of us were sharing three bedrooms—so I had to find my friends a hotel in Waikīkī. They were on a budget, so it had to be cheap. The place I found for them was Hale Pua Nui (House of the Big Flower). It wasn’t luxurious, but it wasn’t seedy, either. It was, to borrow a phrase from Papa Hem­ingway, “a clean, well-lighted place.” In this modest, two-story concrete-block structure, less than 10 years old at the time, the guest rooms were neat and tidy. Amenities included television, fresh flowers and a ripe pineapple. At $30 a night, the price was right.

Apart from the room rate, what my friends (surfers like me) appreciated about Hale Pua Nui was the location: near the foot of the aptly named Beach Walk Street, a short stroll to the beach past the Outrigger Reef, followed by a short paddle out to the high-octane waves of the surf spot called Threes. The only thing my friends didn’t appreciate was the admonitory check-in lecture, delivered in-room by a thin, stern, white-haired woman who laid down the rules of conduct for guests.

Aloha, The Donald

Hale Pua Nui isn’t there anymore. Where it used to be is a high-fenced construction site from which, in 2009, the Trump International Hotel & Tower Waikīkī Beach Walk will rise to a height of 350 feet. The $400 million condomin­ium hotel will become Waikīkī’s tallest building, dwarfing the former champion, the Sheraton Waikīkī, by a whopping 80 feet.

Sitting on a site not much larger than an acre, The Donald’s Tower has already be­come the most profitable piece of real estate in Hawai‘i’s history. Last No­vember, its 463 fee simple condo hotel units sold out in less than eight hours for more than $700 million. I heard stories about buyers cruising by in chauffeured limos handing $20,000 deposit checks out the windows. True? Maybe. Tall as it will be, the Trump Tower is only a small part of an alleged big change in Waikīkī, about which the Powers That Be have been generating a lot of buzz and PR which have, in turn, garnered a lot of ink in the press.

News­papers and magazines have labeled it a “renaissance,” a “renewal,” an “extreme makeover, aloha edition” and “The New Waikīkī.”

Is this all hype and exaggeration, or is Waikīkī really changing? If the latter, is it a fundamental change or simply a facelift? I made it my job to find out.

Paris in Slippers

Last October, I attended a half-day conference co-sponsored by the Hawai‘i chapters of the American Marketing Association and the Pacific Asia Travel Association (PATA), billed as the “Re­vitalization of Waikīkī” and starring most of Waikīkī’s Powers That Be: the Waikīkī Improvement Asso­cia­tion, the Hawai‘i Tourism Authority, the Hawai‘i Visitors and Convention Bureau, Out­rig­ger Enterprises (a major Wai­kīkī land­owner and hotel operator) and the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center.

The elements of Waikīkī’s revitalization were listed and touted by various speakers. Some of these elements ap­peared to be physical realities, others promotional concepts.

Marsha Wienart, travel liaison for the state, spoke about the recently completed project that replenished the sands of Kūhiō Beach.

Rick Egged of the Waikīkī Im­prove­ment Association noted that Kūhiō Beach has not only more sand, but more sidewalk, new water features, concealed restrooms, statues, healing stones and the Waikīkī Historic Trail.

Frank Haas of the Hawai‘i Tourism Authority talked about the necessity to rekindle the dream of Waikīkī, to market it and make it more real and relevant and to “protect what is unique and natural.”

Jay Talwar of the Hawai‘i Visitors and Convention Bureau delivered some phrases developed to promote The New Wai­kīkī, which he said is “not a destination, but an experience, not a place, but a phenomenon.” He called it “a modern ar­ticulation of the timeless spirit of aloha, where the modern world meets the ancient spirit of Hawai‘i.” Talwar also spoke about what The New Waikīkī is all about: Island fusion, which is a combination of aloha spirit and “global influences.” He and his marketing people must have had fun with their characterizations: Their vi­sion of The New Waikīkī is expressed as “flip flops and high heels,” “hula and hip hop,” “South Beach without the attitude,” “Nordstrom with a beach” and “Paris in slippers.”

The biggest star of the conference was Waikīkī Beach Walk, touted as “the new epicenter of Waikīkī,” and the largest private development project ever undertaken in Hawai‘i, courtesy of Out­rigger Enterprises. The 8-acre area, bound­ed by Lewers Street, Beach Walk, Kalākaua Avenue and Kālia Road, once housed 11 Outrigger hotels built in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s, which were in dire need of renovation or replacement. The new area includes hotels and timeshare properties, several res­taurants (including Roy’s, Ruth’s Chris Steak House and Yard House, an establishment serving 130 differ­ent beers on tap), and a two-story retail/entertainment complex.

Another star was the Royal Hawaiian Shopping Center, which, according to spokesperson Susan Todani, is being converted from its old “closed-up federal-building look” to a “wide-open, 360-de­gree streetscape experience that brings the inside out and the outside in.”

Practicing Aloha

A panel discussion in the conference dealt with the topic of Keeping Aloha Alive in Waikīkī/Hawaiian Sense of Place. One of the participants was Ke Kai Kealoha, who represented a shop at Waikīkī Beach Walk called Mana Ha­wai‘i. Mana Hawai‘i is a five-business co-op with a mission not just to sell stuff but to communicate the culture and history of Hawai‘i—in Kealoha’s words, “to share with guests the people, products, experiences and values of our Island home,” partly by offering demonstrations and teaching events.

I liked her. She stressed Mana Ha­wai‘i’s self-imposed obligation to “learn, teach and share things Hawaiian.” She de­fined aloha as “the intelligence with which we meet life.” And I liked what she said after that: “We all should value the practice of aloha and internalize it. We can practice aloha by surfing, ca­noe­ing, playing music and making poi.”

Practice aloha by surfing? Yessss! I do that! Susan Todani spoke about what was being done at the Royal Ha­waiian Shop­ping Center to preserve or re-establish “a Ha­waiian sense of place.”

She said: “The place where the center is located was called Helumoa. It had thousands of co­­conut trees. We are using those elements in design: coco­nut bark scarring, co- ­co­nut husk cordage and coconut palm fronds. We are also planting ethnobotanical gardens: one featuring canoe plants, another Hawaiian medicinal plants, an en­dangered spe­cies garden, a wetland garden, an evolution garden and a kumulipo [creation chant] garden.”

I left the conference with a schizophrenic vision of The New Waikīkī. I had been told that it was moving up­scale, adopting a global identity, while simultaneously preserving a Hawaiian sense of place and the aloha spirit. What did that mean?

I decided that I would have to spend a good deal of time in Waikīkī, probably more than I had in the past 10 years, to find out what was really going on.

The Search for Waikīkī

I spend three days in Waikīkī (one in December, one in March and one in mid-April), simply walking around: up Kūhiō Avenue and down Kalākaua, along the side streets, through Ka­pi‘o­lani Park and along the beaches. I visit the new and the old, the classy and the funky.

My first impression of The New Wai­kīkī reminds me of the movie The Fly, in which an experiment with a prototype teleportation de­vice goes wrong be­cause a housefly enters the chamber with the scientist, and their molecules get scrambled, and the scientist ends up with the enlarged head of a fly.

During its transformation, The New Waikīkī appears to have retained many molecules of The Old. The metaphor breaks down, however, because nothing about The Old seems horrific to me. Instead, it is a good thing. I find myself rooting for The Old.

For example: I park my car on a side street (a metered space, 10 minutes for a quarter, two hours max) and walk to the intersection of Kālaimoku and Kūhiō. A beautiful old banyan tree still stands, but two Old Waikīkī landmarks are missing: Hula’s Bar and Grill and the Kūhiō Theatre.

Walking toward Diamond Head on Kūhiō Avenue, I pass some funky shops offering six T-shirts for $20 and find myself in front of the Wyland Waikīkī Hotel. I enter the lobby passing through twin dolphin sculptures and a table whose glass top rests on two more dolphin sculptures. Every work of art in the hotel is a Wyland: sculpture, photography, drawings and paintings. Dolphins are frozen in­side a glass wave. Turtles are frozen inside a glass wave. Beside the outdoor pool is a whale sculpture. I’m beginning to suffer from an art overdose.

Down Kūhiō, I resume my prom­enade—past Tiki Tattoo, Mas­sage and Body Piercing, past a ritzy Saint Ger­main bakery beside a utilitarian ABC convenience/souvenir store, one of about three dozen ABCs in Waikīkī. Past the Miramar Waikīkī Hotel, with its huge Asian mosaic, past Surf Ad­dic­tion and E-Z Discount, past the familiar Perry’s Smorgy and Food Pantry, “Wai­kīkī’s most complete superette.”

Waikīkī seems to be caught in mid-morph, displaying its past and its future simultaneously, one dissolving into the other.

I turn down Ka‘iulani Avenue to­ward the ocean and find, to my surprise, the old wooden door to Chuck’s Cellar, which used to be on Lewers Street, now mounted on the side of the ‘Ohana East Hotel. Back in the ’70s I used to frequent Chuck’s Cellar, which had great steaks, cheap drinks and live Ha­waiian music. I wonder what the transplanted venue is like.

On Kalākaua, the main drag, I’m hap­py to validate everything that was said at the conference about Kūhiō Beach. From the sand to the added off-beach features, it’s absolutely beautiful. And it’s packed with happy sunbathers. The mere color of the ocean—a bright, light turquoise—is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

The Moana Surfrider’s Banyan Court is another pleasure. But here, too, change is afoot: the Sheraton is becoming a Westin. I hear the sound of hammering in the lobby. A sign tells me that the First Lady of Waikīkī is being “up­graded and transformed.”

Across the street, the famous Inter­national Market Place hasn’t changed much. The Korean-operated jewelry kiosks are still there, along with the big banyan, the bricks beneath my feet and the pleasant atmosphere of cool dampness. Shave ices are up to $3.75, but the price doesn’t deter me from having one.

Liberty House is now Macy’s, and the classic art-deco Wai­kīkī Theatre (aka Waikīkī Theatre 3) is now “The Center of Waikīkī”—three retail stores and two restaurants. All that remains of the theater are wall-sized photos of the exterior and interior, movie posters and framed newspaper pages from Aug. 20, 1936, the day the theater opened. Oh, well.

The Royal Hawaiian is still the most beautiful hotel in Waikīkī. Talk about a Hawaiian sense of place: This has it. Coral pink arches. Views from the in­side to the outside, from the plush interior to the sand and sea.

Further on down Kalākaua, near Beach Walk, the schizophrenia reappears. Prada stands beside 88 Tees Used Jeans. A guy with a sandwich board advertising $10 DVDs stands at the edge of the upscale 2100 Kalākaua, home of townhouse boutiques: Hugo Boss, Gucci, Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, Coach, Tiffany, etc.

Walking down Lewers Street (this, not Beach Walk, is the site of the destination named Waikīkī Beach Walk), I am pleased. It looks great. A large semicircle has been cut back from the road, widening a formerly constricted space, adding an open area of grass and coco­nut trees, with a fountain and space for entertainers to perform. Behind it is a two-story collection of shops and res­taurants, including Mana Hawai‘i. The décor features wavy canopies and wavy grillwork.

On the way back to my car, I stroll up Saratoga Street, across from Fort De­Russy, and guess what I find? Hale Pua Nui might be gone forever, but some of her soul sisters remain. The Kai Aloha Hotel, the Breakers Hotel, the Aloha Punawai, “a family-owned apartment hotel,” “a little treasure in a sea of choices,” and the Hawaiiana Hotel (ac­tually fronting Beach Walk) with its tropical garden setting, its modesty, its beckoning look, its kitchenettes, washers and dryers and its rack rate of $125 standard to $215 deluxe. The price is right, and the spirit is pure aloha.

Waikīkī is currently about midway through its renaissance, or revitalization, or whatever you want to call it. Depending on where you look, you can find The Old or The New Waikīkī. It will take several years to make it entirely new. In the meantime, I think visitors will appreciate Waikīkī’s dual identity. I know I do.

JOHN WYTHE WHITE is a frequent contributor to SPIRIT OF ALOHA. His new novel A High and Beautiful Wave, will be published this year..

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