Haleiwa fornt coverDecorative magazine overlayDecorative magazine overlay

Haleiwa

Author

Bob Evans
Publication
Surfing World (13.4) - Volume 13, Issue 4
Year
1970

If Haleiwa wasn't so ugly — it could be sublimely beautiful.

I once entered a Japanese movie house and watched a "samurai warrior" cut his way thru a hundred foes in the eerie streets of a back country township that was a dead ringer for Haleiwa.

The ramshackle mud crusty, walls of "old" Haleiwa is as much out place in modern Hawaii, as the gold rush ghost towns of our own history.

This town is a hotch potch of old and new — a real ticky tacky remnant of a Hawaii that lies somewhere between the beauty of the old way of life and the harsh ugliness of low cost 20th century American development.

But if nothing else, it is a unique little town — a sprawling staggering shot of ugliness almost engulfed by a natural world of beauty — its perimeters the massive sheen of endless blue ocean that pivots on the bastion of Kaena Point and the fields of tall cane that sprout bountifully out of Oahu's rich red volcanic loam. There are saw tooth mountains and flying clouds riding the trade winds and veiling the highest ridges with rainbow veils of falling rain, that only sometimes reaches the little towns away on the foothills distant toes.

But still enough rain comes to turn the towns low slopes into mudholes, and it's ridges into grassy dust-beds.

Haleiwa's people are a strange mixture. The orientals that worked the cane and irrigation — strong but bent by their environmental workload — dour but animated under stimulus.

The all smiles — all business Chinese traders of the supermarkets and stores. The Polynesians, big and heavy and super casual — bred on a daily diet of PR I MO beer — tough island beef — slab sided "gamey" fish, other unrecognizable local specialties and more PRIMO. No pay — no problem — happy people.

The notable cuisine of MARIANNES RESTAURANT. Knowledgeable visitors arrive at midday to sample the mouth-watering fresh cooked daily, sweet and sour pork spare ribs. Marianne, smiling, courteous but pushy — giving good value and making good money. Sometimes the evening waitresses are pretty little local chicks, that waggle their tails and know how to throw a wicked glance — but get too interested and some overweight heavy out in the bar is ready with an eager supply of "fat lips."

The Seaview Restaurant, just down the road and right on the edge of the tiny inner Haleiwa harbour, is the one I like. Tasty pork — tofu — juicy teriyaki steak — shrimp tempura — yeah! I like the local menu.

Star of the Seaview operation is a guy called Tom. I don't know Tom's surname, and if he gets to read I apologize for not remembering because Tom is a gentleman. Bar manager — public relations man in a white apron — good guy on the spot — Tom has never failed to remember my name from year to year over all the trips since 1960.

I recall in the tidal wave warning of 1963, Nat Young, (who was just a kid then) and myself were drinking great jugs of flat Primo with Greg Noll while the radio urgently insisted that all residents take to the hills to avoid imminent wave danger. Greg and I were getting pretty tanked, and considering the possibility of paddling out through the near-midnight blackness of a Hawaii night to ride the Haleiwa Harbour light buoy up and down with the tidal wave surge. Greg was ready — I was getting ready, and Nat wanted to go home. At the crucial moment, as Tom was pleading with "The Bull" to go home and let him close up, in stormed big BUFFALO [and] his MAKAHA buddies. The whole gang fully primed and raging for more.

I can remember Tom's face as they rolled like a human tidal wave over his protests — an expression of utter futility and resignation.

Two hours later, Tom, with all the imperturbable control of his oriental ancestry, politely said goodnight as we burst headlong into the silent blackness of the Haleiwa night into a town that was closed down tight against the possible tidal wave.

Unerringly Buffalo led us to the home of fellow Hawaiian Henry Preece, a huge man and one of the districts "real" people.

An unforgettable night of good humour and international comradeship, united in their endeavor (foolish) to out-laugh and out-pressure the earthquake inspired TSUNAMI which fortunately expired before it reached Haleiwa.

But Haleiwa is much more than this. This town grew on feudal beginnings — the indenture-ship of the peasants that came to work the fields — and grew to be free American citizens.

These are the people who are Hawaii. Living in a precut "Hicks Home" sewered — fresh mountain spring water — free medicine — sliding doors to vine shaded lanai courts — colour television, with a garbage disposal sink and all mod cons — a son at high school and a stake in their own future. Pearl Harbour is and was a long time ago.

Haleiwa's background is the blending of faiths — an evolutionary pattern that has survived without the benefit of planning — where a hot gospelling negro is just as at home as a SHINTO priest — a Baptist minister — or the experimental non-church of a life-tripper.

But this place is a gathering place of surfers. This is the base camp and the information centre for the surf of Hawaii.

For all its nothingness, Haleiwa is an important place. Its shores of coral and lava washed by waves of infinity flower and beauty harbour the medals of recognition — the empty can and the torn packet and the rusty abandoned surf-mobile.

The Post Office accepts mail and dispenses letters of hope and sustenance cheques. This is the other capital of Hawaii and a mirror of the substance of the people that are the north shore.

This town is nearing the end of another era and within another decade will rise again. For after the drop-outs of mainland America have smothered themselves in the refuse of their own creation, the new town will grow out of the manure of the old. Though it too will be the "ticky tacky" of another century, Haleiwa will to me be the same.

Kaena Point — the mountains — the cane fields — the mud — and the fantastic waves of the towns beaches will see to that.