ʻIwalani's Story
An advertisement for the Hawaiian Room
ʻIwalani’s Story
How could you understand a place like New York City as somebody who’s never been there? I'll tell you it's not easy. Folks talk about the fast pace, the excitement, the sheer amount of people. You know, the kind of stuff you see in movies. But for me, it never really hit me until I actually went there myself. Me, an island girl born and raised in Waimanalo on the windward side of Oʻahu, dancing for backyard kanikapila and Waikīkī hotels landed a job in New York City, the most famous city in America!
I'll tell you though; life in Hawai'i before I went to New York wasn't all that bad. I mean we had a modest living. My family wasn't well off or anything, we made do. My father worked as a construction worker helping build all the new hotels and restaurants down on Waikīkī, and my mother stayed at home with me and my two brothers. I was the oldest of the bunch, so I would have to do all the chores and help around the house "like a good kine girl" as my mother would say. Sometimes I would help cook, and I secretly really enjoyed cooking with my mother. Daily meals were simple: rice, fish, poi, poke, the kinds of stuff only local Hawaiians would eat.
I was raised with Hula and I count my blessings every day for that. Not very many Hawaiians knew how to dance Hula at the time, but I was fortunate to have lived next to a Kumu Hula who was more than happy to teach me when I was younger. I started dancing when I was about 8 years old, just in my community in backyard kanikapila. I didn't start dancing around town until I was well into my teens. I think maybe around 16 or 17. My Kumu told me and a few others that some of the new hotels on Waikīkī needed dancers. It was a rare opportunity. Only the most elite dancers got to dance for the tourists on Waikīkī. My hula sisters and I made our debut at the Royal Hawaiian in late 1956, and soon enough, as with the lifestyle consistent with Waikīkī hotel dancers, we got caught up in the swing of things. The only downside is that it didn't pay very much. So while I was dancing at the Royal Hawaiian 4 nights a week I had to pick up a job at the local cannery to help my family out with the growing cost of living. With my dancing gigs and my job at the cannery I made about $100 a month, not much for a teenage girl to be happy, and I gave almost all of it to my family.
I continued doing that for about a year and a half, and then suddenly the opportunity of a lifetime came up. My Kumu found me and looked really pleased. She told me "E 'Iwalani! Good job you like work?" I said "Of course!" She said, "Listen there's an opening for the Lexington Hotel Hawaiian room, I think you should go!" My first thought was "The Hawaiian Room? Lexington Hotel? Where in the world is that? That's not in Waikīkī..." She told me it was in New York City, a place I've only seen in the movies or read about in books. I never left the islands before, or even been on a plane! New York City was five thousand miles away and for all I was concerned, it was on another planet. But sure enough, the allure of the city took hold of me. I made a phone call to the Lexington Hotel one day and asked about the opening. My Kumu was right, there was an opening! I was mailed a job application and eventually I was offered a job in New York City in the summer of 1958. My heart stopped. I thought to myself, "What am I going to do now that it's a real opportunity? Do I take it? Do I continue living my life in Hawai'i supporting my family?" I was so conflicted I did what every sensible 19-year-old girl would do; I went and cried to my mother. She said "ʻIwalani you know what your name means? It means 'The ʻIwa bird in the Heavens.' You were meant to fly away from here. Go, go to New York. Hawai'i will always be here for you. The ʻIwa always returns to its home."
Before you knew it I was on my way to New York! It was supposed to be a long flight. One way from Honolulu to New York. There were a lot of haoles on the plane too. Mostly rich folk who could afford to take their family and kids on vacation. At the time I was amazed. I remember staring at this one haole family who looked like they just vacationed in Waikīkī. The father looked amazingly rich, and mother well taken care of—she had loads of jewelry on! A diamond ring, gold bracelets, a gold necklace. Geez. To this day I wonder what it’s like to be on a plane and look like a walking jewelry store.
I was a little unnerved by the flight too. It was my first one! I think that one of the Pan Am flight attendants could tell that it was my first flight too. She gave me some chocolate and asked if I wanted a glass of wine. I never drank before, but I figured what the heck, I’m going to New York! I held my nose and swallowed the wine really quick and I shoved the chocolate in my mouth to get rid of the rancid taste. I fell asleep almost immediately, and lord knows I never drank again. Blech!
How could you understand a place like New York City as somebody who’s never been there? I'll tell you it's not easy. Folks talk about the fast pace, the excitement, the sheer amount of people. You know, the kind of stuff you see in movies. But for me, it never really hit me until I actually went there myself. Me, an island girl born and raised in Waimanalo on the windward side of Oʻahu, dancing for backyard kanikapila and Waikīkī hotels landed a job in New York City, the most famous city in America!
I'll tell you though; life in Hawai'i before I went to New York wasn't all that bad. I mean we had a modest living. My family wasn't well off or anything, we made do. My father worked as a construction worker helping build all the new hotels and restaurants down on Waikīkī, and my mother stayed at home with me and my two brothers. I was the oldest of the bunch, so I would have to do all the chores and help around the house "like a good kine girl" as my mother would say. Sometimes I would help cook, and I secretly really enjoyed cooking with my mother. Daily meals were simple: rice, fish, poi, poke, the kinds of stuff only local Hawaiians would eat.
I was raised with Hula and I count my blessings every day for that. Not very many Hawaiians knew how to dance Hula at the time, but I was fortunate to have lived next to a Kumu Hula who was more than happy to teach me when I was younger. I started dancing when I was about 8 years old, just in my community in backyard kanikapila. I didn't start dancing around town until I was well into my teens. I think maybe around 16 or 17. My Kumu told me and a few others that some of the new hotels on Waikīkī needed dancers. It was a rare opportunity. Only the most elite dancers got to dance for the tourists on Waikīkī. My hula sisters and I made our debut at the Royal Hawaiian in late 1956, and soon enough, as with the lifestyle consistent with Waikīkī hotel dancers, we got caught up in the swing of things. The only downside is that it didn't pay very much. So while I was dancing at the Royal Hawaiian 4 nights a week I had to pick up a job at the local cannery to help my family out with the growing cost of living. With my dancing gigs and my job at the cannery I made about $100 a month, not much for a teenage girl to be happy, and I gave almost all of it to my family.
I continued doing that for about a year and a half, and then suddenly the opportunity of a lifetime came up. My Kumu found me and looked really pleased. She told me "E 'Iwalani! Good job you like work?" I said "Of course!" She said, "Listen there's an opening for the Lexington Hotel Hawaiian room, I think you should go!" My first thought was "The Hawaiian Room? Lexington Hotel? Where in the world is that? That's not in Waikīkī..." She told me it was in New York City, a place I've only seen in the movies or read about in books. I never left the islands before, or even been on a plane! New York City was five thousand miles away and for all I was concerned, it was on another planet. But sure enough, the allure of the city took hold of me. I made a phone call to the Lexington Hotel one day and asked about the opening. My Kumu was right, there was an opening! I was mailed a job application and eventually I was offered a job in New York City in the summer of 1958. My heart stopped. I thought to myself, "What am I going to do now that it's a real opportunity? Do I take it? Do I continue living my life in Hawai'i supporting my family?" I was so conflicted I did what every sensible 19-year-old girl would do; I went and cried to my mother. She said "ʻIwalani you know what your name means? It means 'The ʻIwa bird in the Heavens.' You were meant to fly away from here. Go, go to New York. Hawai'i will always be here for you. The ʻIwa always returns to its home."
Before you knew it I was on my way to New York! It was supposed to be a long flight. One way from Honolulu to New York. There were a lot of haoles on the plane too. Mostly rich folk who could afford to take their family and kids on vacation. At the time I was amazed. I remember staring at this one haole family who looked like they just vacationed in Waikīkī. The father looked amazingly rich, and mother well taken care of—she had loads of jewelry on! A diamond ring, gold bracelets, a gold necklace. Geez. To this day I wonder what it’s like to be on a plane and look like a walking jewelry store.
I was a little unnerved by the flight too. It was my first one! I think that one of the Pan Am flight attendants could tell that it was my first flight too. She gave me some chocolate and asked if I wanted a glass of wine. I never drank before, but I figured what the heck, I’m going to New York! I held my nose and swallowed the wine really quick and I shoved the chocolate in my mouth to get rid of the rancid taste. I fell asleep almost immediately, and lord knows I never drank again. Blech!
The Lexington Hotel exterior
The long flight went by in a flash… I blame the wine. Just think about all the amazing views I missed from the sky! Instead of looking out my window to see the New York skyline for the first time, I woke up to the violent jolt of the jet landing. I was so shocked that I kicked the seat in front of me and hurt my ankle really badly. The flight attendant who gave me the chocolate and wine covered her mouth as she giggled watching me hobble off the plane.
The Lexington hotel manager said that somebody would be waiting for me at the baggage claim. I was so lost. I just followed the crowd of haoles who looked like they knew where they were going. I turned a corner only to see a short man with a black cap holding a sign that said “IWALANI BEAMER.” I walked over him.
“Iwalani Beamer?” he said.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Right this way.”
He grabbed my luggage and zoomed ahead of me. People here walk so quickly! Like everybody has some place to be or something. Don’t see that back home at all. I mean I was really struggling to keep up with him! The short man in the black cap wasn’t slowing down for me either. I had to shout at him before I completely took off with my luggage.
I got into the back seat of his car, and said it’ll be about a 45-minute drive.
“Wow that long?” I said.
“Yes ma’am. There’s always traffic in the city at this time.”
I thought to myself “Geez… There’s hardly ever traffic back home. Even in Honolulu! I better make myself comfortable then.”
The ride was silent the whole time, mostly because I was staring out my window looking at the city. Buildings towered into the sky one after another. People crowded the streets in giant mobs each walking at an obscenely quick pace. I looked on in shock, really thinking that I just landed on another planet.
“You alright ma’am?” the short driver asked.
“Uhm.. yeah. I think so.”
“We’re almost there. About 10 minutes.”
Those were the longest 10 minutes of my life. I wasn’t even nervous about my job. I just couldn’t help but think about how I’m actually five thousand miles away from home and that I have a yearlong contract with this place. I thought, “Would I hold out for that long? What if I learn to walk fast and I can’t break out of the habit! Oh god this place will turn me into a haole!”
We pulled into the drop off area of the Lexington hotel and unloaded the car. The short driver walked me into the lobby of the Lexington and dropped my stuff off and said he’d be right back. The lobby was incredible, unlike any hotel in Waikīkī. Marbled floors, giant pillars, ornate sculptures, a crystal chandelier. “I’m dancing here!?” I thought to myself. I felt like I was going to faint.
Shortly after the tiny driver came back with the manager of the Hawaiian Room, Ray Kinney.
“Hello there! You must be Iwalani. Welcome to New York!” he reached out for a handshake and I, feeling lightheaded, simply placed my hand inside of his, but didn’t grasp. He must of thought I was such a weirdo for doing that.
“Well then, I’ll take you down to the Hawaiian Room and I’ll show you where you will be staying throughout your time here. Ronnie, take her luggage up to her room. 19th floor, room 3.”
“Ronnie? Oh that’s his name…” I thought to myself. He’ll always be that one short driver to me though.
Mr. Kinney took me down to the basement where the Hawaiian Room was located. It was late afternoon so people were beginning to set up for the night’s events. The room looked like I was back in a Waikīkī hotel! The room was a semi-circle with dining tables facing the center performance stage. All around the room were these fake coconut palms and murals of famous places back home: Kaimana Hila, Hanauma Bay, Waikīkī beach, just to name a few. The floor was a dark brown wood, and the railings were made of tacky bamboo and what looked like woven thatch. The lighting was a soft orangey-yellow color, not too bright, but bright enough for people to see what was going on inside the space.
“This place is the talk of the town! People come from all over the world to see this place ya know. We get major celebrities, big business men, politicians, you name it. They all come to see you and the other Hawaiian dancers. Most of them don’t even know what a Hawaiian woman looks like, so they come here to see.”
“When will I meet the others?” I asked urgently.
“Tonight! Go get yourself settled in your room and I’ll have Mona come visit you.”
Mr. Kinney showed me to the elevator and I went up 19 floors. I don’t even think I went up that high even at the Waikīkī hotels! I walked into my room and found a modest living arrangement: a room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. Nothing notably extravagant. After all they offered for me to stay at the hotel at a discounted price. They said they’d just take the rent out of my paycheck. As I was unpacking my things I heard a knock on my door. A short, but beautiful woman was waiting outside my door. I opened it.
“Hello?”
“Are you Iwalani?”
“Yes, I am.”
“My name is Mona, I’m the hula mother here.”
Words could not describe how happy I was to hear that. Finally somebody who must know what it’s like to be in my shoes!
“Oh my goodness hello!” I immediately dived in for a hug and we shared a laugh together. I invited her inside.
“You must be overwhelmed being here for the first time.”
“I am. This place isn’t like home at all. People here walk differently, talk differently, everything is different!”
She laughed. “Yes, it’s very overwhelming. The movies don’t prepare you as much as you’d think they would.”
“Do you miss home?” I asked compellingly
“I do. Every day. But I think my time here made me appreciate Hawai’i even more. I’ve been here for 2 years already, and it’s been difficult. But I’m making way more money here than I would have back home. I can be independent here. It’s liberating!”
We stayed and chatted for a while about home, but then she had to go get ready for the evening’s performance. Mona was a big deal. When Ray Kinney said that people came from all over the world to see this place, he really meant people came to see Mona. She had a phenomenal voice, like an operatic soprano. The most amazing part is she never had any vocal training whatsoever! It just came out like that, the most enchanting sound.
The next day was the start of my training, and the day I met the other five hula girls who danced for the hotel. Three were from O’ahu like I was, one was from Maui and the last one from Big Island. Mona was the “mother” of the group like she told me the night before; she took care of us. Her job was to make sure we were adjusting properly and doing our work. While I was the newest one of the group, the other five girls had been in New York for varying lengths of time: some for a few months, some for a bit over a year, and Mona who was well into her third year performing. Though I was the youngest of the group, I certainly did not hold that position to an extreme. We were all in our 20s, including Mona who was the oldest of the group.
The Lexington hotel manager said that somebody would be waiting for me at the baggage claim. I was so lost. I just followed the crowd of haoles who looked like they knew where they were going. I turned a corner only to see a short man with a black cap holding a sign that said “IWALANI BEAMER.” I walked over him.
“Iwalani Beamer?” he said.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Right this way.”
He grabbed my luggage and zoomed ahead of me. People here walk so quickly! Like everybody has some place to be or something. Don’t see that back home at all. I mean I was really struggling to keep up with him! The short man in the black cap wasn’t slowing down for me either. I had to shout at him before I completely took off with my luggage.
I got into the back seat of his car, and said it’ll be about a 45-minute drive.
“Wow that long?” I said.
“Yes ma’am. There’s always traffic in the city at this time.”
I thought to myself “Geez… There’s hardly ever traffic back home. Even in Honolulu! I better make myself comfortable then.”
The ride was silent the whole time, mostly because I was staring out my window looking at the city. Buildings towered into the sky one after another. People crowded the streets in giant mobs each walking at an obscenely quick pace. I looked on in shock, really thinking that I just landed on another planet.
“You alright ma’am?” the short driver asked.
“Uhm.. yeah. I think so.”
“We’re almost there. About 10 minutes.”
Those were the longest 10 minutes of my life. I wasn’t even nervous about my job. I just couldn’t help but think about how I’m actually five thousand miles away from home and that I have a yearlong contract with this place. I thought, “Would I hold out for that long? What if I learn to walk fast and I can’t break out of the habit! Oh god this place will turn me into a haole!”
We pulled into the drop off area of the Lexington hotel and unloaded the car. The short driver walked me into the lobby of the Lexington and dropped my stuff off and said he’d be right back. The lobby was incredible, unlike any hotel in Waikīkī. Marbled floors, giant pillars, ornate sculptures, a crystal chandelier. “I’m dancing here!?” I thought to myself. I felt like I was going to faint.
Shortly after the tiny driver came back with the manager of the Hawaiian Room, Ray Kinney.
“Hello there! You must be Iwalani. Welcome to New York!” he reached out for a handshake and I, feeling lightheaded, simply placed my hand inside of his, but didn’t grasp. He must of thought I was such a weirdo for doing that.
“Well then, I’ll take you down to the Hawaiian Room and I’ll show you where you will be staying throughout your time here. Ronnie, take her luggage up to her room. 19th floor, room 3.”
“Ronnie? Oh that’s his name…” I thought to myself. He’ll always be that one short driver to me though.
Mr. Kinney took me down to the basement where the Hawaiian Room was located. It was late afternoon so people were beginning to set up for the night’s events. The room looked like I was back in a Waikīkī hotel! The room was a semi-circle with dining tables facing the center performance stage. All around the room were these fake coconut palms and murals of famous places back home: Kaimana Hila, Hanauma Bay, Waikīkī beach, just to name a few. The floor was a dark brown wood, and the railings were made of tacky bamboo and what looked like woven thatch. The lighting was a soft orangey-yellow color, not too bright, but bright enough for people to see what was going on inside the space.
“This place is the talk of the town! People come from all over the world to see this place ya know. We get major celebrities, big business men, politicians, you name it. They all come to see you and the other Hawaiian dancers. Most of them don’t even know what a Hawaiian woman looks like, so they come here to see.”
“When will I meet the others?” I asked urgently.
“Tonight! Go get yourself settled in your room and I’ll have Mona come visit you.”
Mr. Kinney showed me to the elevator and I went up 19 floors. I don’t even think I went up that high even at the Waikīkī hotels! I walked into my room and found a modest living arrangement: a room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. Nothing notably extravagant. After all they offered for me to stay at the hotel at a discounted price. They said they’d just take the rent out of my paycheck. As I was unpacking my things I heard a knock on my door. A short, but beautiful woman was waiting outside my door. I opened it.
“Hello?”
“Are you Iwalani?”
“Yes, I am.”
“My name is Mona, I’m the hula mother here.”
Words could not describe how happy I was to hear that. Finally somebody who must know what it’s like to be in my shoes!
“Oh my goodness hello!” I immediately dived in for a hug and we shared a laugh together. I invited her inside.
“You must be overwhelmed being here for the first time.”
“I am. This place isn’t like home at all. People here walk differently, talk differently, everything is different!”
She laughed. “Yes, it’s very overwhelming. The movies don’t prepare you as much as you’d think they would.”
“Do you miss home?” I asked compellingly
“I do. Every day. But I think my time here made me appreciate Hawai’i even more. I’ve been here for 2 years already, and it’s been difficult. But I’m making way more money here than I would have back home. I can be independent here. It’s liberating!”
We stayed and chatted for a while about home, but then she had to go get ready for the evening’s performance. Mona was a big deal. When Ray Kinney said that people came from all over the world to see this place, he really meant people came to see Mona. She had a phenomenal voice, like an operatic soprano. The most amazing part is she never had any vocal training whatsoever! It just came out like that, the most enchanting sound.
The next day was the start of my training, and the day I met the other five hula girls who danced for the hotel. Three were from O’ahu like I was, one was from Maui and the last one from Big Island. Mona was the “mother” of the group like she told me the night before; she took care of us. Her job was to make sure we were adjusting properly and doing our work. While I was the newest one of the group, the other five girls had been in New York for varying lengths of time: some for a few months, some for a bit over a year, and Mona who was well into her third year performing. Though I was the youngest of the group, I certainly did not hold that position to an extreme. We were all in our 20s, including Mona who was the oldest of the group.
Me (second from the right) and my Hula Sisters
preparing for a performance in the backstage dressing room.
Everyone seemed to adjust well. And by that I mean the other girls seemed to be able to firmly hold onto their island roots. They didn’t talk fast or walk fast, they reminded me of my friends back home even. I felt better about coming to New York after meeting my new hula sisters. I didn’t feel as lost or overwhelmed anymore, I felt more excitement!
Then came my first rehearsal. I was experienced enough in hula to know what I was doing when Hawaiian songs were being played. We danced mostly to “hapa haole” music, which was no stranger to me since I had experience dancing in hotels in Waikīkī. That was easy. Then came the harder stuff. We didn’t just do Hawaiian music and dance; we also danced Tahitian ote’a, Samoan fireknife, and Maori poi balls. When I saw one of my hula sisters come out onto the rehearsal space with a fire knife in hand, my jaw hit the floor.
“What’s the matter ‘Iwalani? Scared of fire?” One of my hula sisters teased
“You know how to fire knife!?” I gasped
“Yes, we all do! You’ll have to learn eventually too.”
I saw her prepare the ends of the knife, and light it on fire by striking the end of the knife on the ground igniting the ends. She spun the knife around and around, and the whole time I was worried that her long hair would get singed in the process. She made it seem so effortless the way she made the fire dance around her. Her routine lasted about two and a half minutes—short but terrifying.
“Uhm… when am I going to learn how to do that?” I asked Mona
“Next week!” She said cheerfully
My hula sisters laughed hysterically at me while I stood there with the most terrified look on my face.
“Don't worry!” Mona said putting her hand on my shoulder. “We have great burn medicine here!”
My hula sisters laughed even harder, and at that point I even started to laugh too. I guess it was so funny to them because they all had to go through the same thing too.
Then came my first rehearsal. I was experienced enough in hula to know what I was doing when Hawaiian songs were being played. We danced mostly to “hapa haole” music, which was no stranger to me since I had experience dancing in hotels in Waikīkī. That was easy. Then came the harder stuff. We didn’t just do Hawaiian music and dance; we also danced Tahitian ote’a, Samoan fireknife, and Maori poi balls. When I saw one of my hula sisters come out onto the rehearsal space with a fire knife in hand, my jaw hit the floor.
“What’s the matter ‘Iwalani? Scared of fire?” One of my hula sisters teased
“You know how to fire knife!?” I gasped
“Yes, we all do! You’ll have to learn eventually too.”
I saw her prepare the ends of the knife, and light it on fire by striking the end of the knife on the ground igniting the ends. She spun the knife around and around, and the whole time I was worried that her long hair would get singed in the process. She made it seem so effortless the way she made the fire dance around her. Her routine lasted about two and a half minutes—short but terrifying.
“Uhm… when am I going to learn how to do that?” I asked Mona
“Next week!” She said cheerfully
My hula sisters laughed hysterically at me while I stood there with the most terrified look on my face.
“Don't worry!” Mona said putting her hand on my shoulder. “We have great burn medicine here!”
My hula sisters laughed even harder, and at that point I even started to laugh too. I guess it was so funny to them because they all had to go through the same thing too.
One of my Hula sisters performing a solo Tahitian dance
Training continued for me throughout month. I wasn’t allowed to perform until I mastered the Hula, Fireknife, Tahitian, and Maori routines Mr. Kinney insisted on being incorporated into his Hawaiian Room show. I tell you, to this day I still don’t know why Samoan, Tahitian, and Maori dances were inside the Hawaiian Room. I mean, it’s a little misleading don't you think?
Mona and the other girls insisted that the whole performance is educational, that we’re bringing Hawaii and greater Polynesia to New York City. I guess they were right. I was just afraid people weren’t going to know the difference between a Tahitian dance and Hula, what with all the crazy hip shaking!
Throughout the month I remember seeing performance after performance—Mona enchanting the audience with her voice, and my hula sisters dazzling the crowd with their beautiful looks and graceful moves. It really wasn’t all that different than the stuff we performed back in Waikiki; in fact I thought it was easier than that, judging from the crowd. They looked so eager to talk with the girls!
I remember one time I was watching a performance where one of my Hula sisters was performing a solo piece, A Song of Old Hawaii, a dinky little hapa-Haole song, but loaded with plenty of aloha spirit. When she was done a handsome young man came up to her and asked:
“Are you a real Hawaiian?”
She said, “Yes, I’m part Hawaiian!” as if she were talking to a little boy.
He went “Ooooooh!!!” with a wide-eyed look of amazement on his face.
We talked about it in the dressing room after the show was over.
“How often does that sort of thing happen?” I asked Mona
“Too much.” Mona laughed. “Think about it! We’re people that New Yorkers only read about and see in the movies. Very few people have met an actual Hawaiian before, and when they do, they’re really enthusiastic!”
She was right. The girls here lived like pseudo-celebrities. After all, the lines to get into the Hawaiian Room over the weekend always wrapped around the whole block!
Finally it was my first night performing. Mr. Kinney and Mona made it easy for me; I was only in the group routines and didn’t have a solo performance yet. I’d have to perform in a few more shows to get to do that. But we had around 5 group routines per night, so it was quite a bit of dancing. But before I started my first night, I remember being inside of the dressing room by myself and realizing how far I’ve come. I was doing my make-up and hair and I started tearing up just out of nowhere. The whole time I’ve been training for this night the bottled up homesickness finally hit me. I looked at myself in the mirror, and remembered what my mother told me when I left Hawai’i; that’d it will always be there for me, that the ‘Iwa bird always returns home. I fixed my make-up from the tear streaks I created and took one final look in the mirror before I went on stage.
“You’re here. There’s no going back.” I told myself with a determined look on my face
“Hurry ‘Iwalani! We’re on next!!!” I heard somebody shout from behind the door.
“I’m coming!”
I filed in line behind my hula sisters and stepped slowly onto the stage when we heard the first notes from Na Hala O Naue play on the zither.
Mona and the other girls insisted that the whole performance is educational, that we’re bringing Hawaii and greater Polynesia to New York City. I guess they were right. I was just afraid people weren’t going to know the difference between a Tahitian dance and Hula, what with all the crazy hip shaking!
Throughout the month I remember seeing performance after performance—Mona enchanting the audience with her voice, and my hula sisters dazzling the crowd with their beautiful looks and graceful moves. It really wasn’t all that different than the stuff we performed back in Waikiki; in fact I thought it was easier than that, judging from the crowd. They looked so eager to talk with the girls!
I remember one time I was watching a performance where one of my Hula sisters was performing a solo piece, A Song of Old Hawaii, a dinky little hapa-Haole song, but loaded with plenty of aloha spirit. When she was done a handsome young man came up to her and asked:
“Are you a real Hawaiian?”
She said, “Yes, I’m part Hawaiian!” as if she were talking to a little boy.
He went “Ooooooh!!!” with a wide-eyed look of amazement on his face.
We talked about it in the dressing room after the show was over.
“How often does that sort of thing happen?” I asked Mona
“Too much.” Mona laughed. “Think about it! We’re people that New Yorkers only read about and see in the movies. Very few people have met an actual Hawaiian before, and when they do, they’re really enthusiastic!”
She was right. The girls here lived like pseudo-celebrities. After all, the lines to get into the Hawaiian Room over the weekend always wrapped around the whole block!
Finally it was my first night performing. Mr. Kinney and Mona made it easy for me; I was only in the group routines and didn’t have a solo performance yet. I’d have to perform in a few more shows to get to do that. But we had around 5 group routines per night, so it was quite a bit of dancing. But before I started my first night, I remember being inside of the dressing room by myself and realizing how far I’ve come. I was doing my make-up and hair and I started tearing up just out of nowhere. The whole time I’ve been training for this night the bottled up homesickness finally hit me. I looked at myself in the mirror, and remembered what my mother told me when I left Hawai’i; that’d it will always be there for me, that the ‘Iwa bird always returns home. I fixed my make-up from the tear streaks I created and took one final look in the mirror before I went on stage.
“You’re here. There’s no going back.” I told myself with a determined look on my face
“Hurry ‘Iwalani! We’re on next!!!” I heard somebody shout from behind the door.
“I’m coming!”
I filed in line behind my hula sisters and stepped slowly onto the stage when we heard the first notes from Na Hala O Naue play on the zither.
|
Na Hala O Naue with Ray Kinney's Orchestra featuring George Kainapau
|
Nani wale nā hala ʻeā ʻeā
O Naue i ke kai Ke ʻoni aʻe la Pili mai Haʻena ʻEna aku nā maka ʻO nā manu i ka pua A ʻike i ka lehua Miki ʻala i laila I laila no au Me ka manaʻo pū Nani wale ka nahele I puia i ke ʻala ʻO koʻu lei ia O ua laʻi nei Haʻina ka inoa ʻO Kaleleonālani |
Beautiful are the pandanus
Of Naue by the sea They are swaying Close to Haʻena The eyes of the birds look eagerly At the flowers When they see the lehua They gather there I went there, too In thought The forest is beautiful Drenched in fragrance She is my lei And regal peace Let the story be told in the name Of Kaleleonālani |
Me (second from the right) at my first performance
Back home this dance would have called for it to be performed with bamboo Pu’ili that would imitate the sound of Queen Emma's dead husband and son jumping into the ocean to the next life. But since most people here didn’t know how this dance should be performed properly, we were able to skate by without any problem. I’ll tell you though, my Kumu would have yelled me if she found out I danced this without Pu’ili!
I danced to 4 hapa-Haole songs and a Tahitian routine that night. It was a lot of dancing but it was an absolute blast! So many people wanted to talk to me after each dance it was incredible! I never thought I was that interesting for people to want to talk to me that badly… Mona was right, people here are eager! There were cameras everywhere in the Hawaiian Room too, people taking pictures left and right, I felt like royalty!
I went back up to my room that evening feeling great, like the spirit of New York finally hit me. Seeing all those unfamiliar people pining to get into the room, dressed up in their finest clothing, all of them eager to talk to me and my sisters was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Best of all, I just made a hundred dollars! I only danced five routines and made that much money! What I made in just one night in New York is the equivalent of working for a whole month at the pineapple cannery in Hawai'i! I tell you what I did with it; I went with a couple girls over to 5th Avenue and we all bought ourselves the nicest fur coats you could imagine. It was getting colder in New York after all, we managed to splurge and revel the glamour of New York fashion while keeping ourselves warm from the winter.
I continued only doing the weekend revue shows on Friday and Saturday nights, still dancing a total of five routines but split up over a period of two days, for the next three months or so. Most of the weekdays were left for rehearsals and solo routine practice. By that time I had got pretty good at fire knife. Though getting constantly teased for my fear of fire at first, I came to not be afraid of it anymore. My sisters said that it was “can-do” New York attitude that made me less afraid. I think they were right. I got burned quite a bit though, mostly on my hands and legs. I even singed off the ends of my hair one time and I had to cut it! Terrible, absolutely terrible! Mona did have that burn medication she had mentioned, but it wasn’t as good as she made it out to be--that only made the other girls laugh even more.
When it was time to perform my first fire knife routine as a solo dancer I was confident. Never mind the fact that it was for the weekday audience, the 'Iwalani that cried nervously before shows was long gone. I walked out onto that stage with my head up high and a ferocious grin on my face. I was going to give this Tuesday night crowd the show of their lives! I began by walking down the stairs and out into the center of the room, placing the knife on the ground in front of me. When the drums started their characteristic quick pulsating beats I lit the knife on fire. I started with lighting one end of it and spinning it around my body, not throwing it in the air just yet. The audience was pleased, but not wild.
“Alright” I thought. “How about this!?”
I danced to 4 hapa-Haole songs and a Tahitian routine that night. It was a lot of dancing but it was an absolute blast! So many people wanted to talk to me after each dance it was incredible! I never thought I was that interesting for people to want to talk to me that badly… Mona was right, people here are eager! There were cameras everywhere in the Hawaiian Room too, people taking pictures left and right, I felt like royalty!
I went back up to my room that evening feeling great, like the spirit of New York finally hit me. Seeing all those unfamiliar people pining to get into the room, dressed up in their finest clothing, all of them eager to talk to me and my sisters was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Best of all, I just made a hundred dollars! I only danced five routines and made that much money! What I made in just one night in New York is the equivalent of working for a whole month at the pineapple cannery in Hawai'i! I tell you what I did with it; I went with a couple girls over to 5th Avenue and we all bought ourselves the nicest fur coats you could imagine. It was getting colder in New York after all, we managed to splurge and revel the glamour of New York fashion while keeping ourselves warm from the winter.
I continued only doing the weekend revue shows on Friday and Saturday nights, still dancing a total of five routines but split up over a period of two days, for the next three months or so. Most of the weekdays were left for rehearsals and solo routine practice. By that time I had got pretty good at fire knife. Though getting constantly teased for my fear of fire at first, I came to not be afraid of it anymore. My sisters said that it was “can-do” New York attitude that made me less afraid. I think they were right. I got burned quite a bit though, mostly on my hands and legs. I even singed off the ends of my hair one time and I had to cut it! Terrible, absolutely terrible! Mona did have that burn medication she had mentioned, but it wasn’t as good as she made it out to be--that only made the other girls laugh even more.
When it was time to perform my first fire knife routine as a solo dancer I was confident. Never mind the fact that it was for the weekday audience, the 'Iwalani that cried nervously before shows was long gone. I walked out onto that stage with my head up high and a ferocious grin on my face. I was going to give this Tuesday night crowd the show of their lives! I began by walking down the stairs and out into the center of the room, placing the knife on the ground in front of me. When the drums started their characteristic quick pulsating beats I lit the knife on fire. I started with lighting one end of it and spinning it around my body, not throwing it in the air just yet. The audience was pleased, but not wild.
“Alright” I thought. “How about this!?”
Ray Kinney (far right) and members of the Hawaiian Room Orchestra
One of my hula sisters taught me a trick where you light the other end of the knife on fire by grabbing the fire in your hand and smothering the other end in it until it catches. The audience members leaned in closer to see what I was about to do. I held out the knife with my right hand and grabbed a fist full of the flaming end with my left.
“Shahooo!!!” I shouted as the other end caught on fire.
The audience let out a collective “Ooooo!” as I twirled the two dancing flames around me. This time I was throwing it into the air and getting it dangerously close to the audience members who looked on in a combination of fear and excitement.
It was time for the grand finale, the moment where I chop pineapple in half in mid-air with the flaming knife. I had practiced this before and found myself to be better at it than the other girls—this show was in the bag. I fixed myself in the center of the stage, and one of my hula sisters lobbed a ripe pineapple into the air. I locked my gaze onto it, lunged forward, and sliced the spiny fruit in two shooting it juices all over the floor. I unknowingly stepped forward into the juicy spill to take my bow, and bathe in the glory that was the best darn fire knife show I ever did. But what was briefly my crowning achievement at the Hawaiian Room soon turned into my worst nightmare. As I stepped back to leave the room and make way for the next performance, my foot slipped on the pineapple juice, and I fell flat on my bottom. What was a deafening sea of applause immediately turned into an even more deafening sea of laughter.
I was ruined. I got up from the juicy puddle and sprinted back into the dressing room panting heavily. I sat myself down in a chair completely defeated. My hula sister Healoha was in the room getting ready to go on in a bit when see saw me in my collapsed anguish.
“What happened sis?” She asked as she did her hair.
“You won’t believe. I’m done! I’m going to get fired!” I screamed.
“Calm down! What did you do?”
“I… I… Fell on my butt.” I said with a groan.
“You what!?” She yelled as she broke out into laughter.
“Yeah… I slipped on the juice of the pineapple I cut in half.”
She couldn't stop laughing. I think I have her cramps since she was doubled over with tears in her eyes.
“Stop laughing! There’s a whole room of guests laughing at me right now!” I cried
Healoha tried regaining her composure. “Haha! It’s just.. haha! Ahh that’s so ridiculous! Gee I wish I were there to see that!”
“No be glad you weren’t!”
“Listen, you’re not getting fired. If anything you’re gonna get a bonus from Mr. Kinney for making the crowd go crazy like that. Like it or not you just made a name for yourself as the hula girl who fell on her butt, and that just got this place a bunch more business.” She went back to doing her hair.
The following day Mr. Kinney approached me about last night. While in the hotel lobby.
“Nice job out there yesterday Iwalani!” He said with a smile
“Ahh really? Even after what happened?”
He chuckled slightly. “Because of what happened!”
I was confused. Was Healoha right?
“I haven’t seen a crowd that ballistic in a very long time! You really know how to put on a show!”
“Gee… Thanks Mr. Kinney!”
“You keep that up okay! I’ll see you at rehearsal later today!”
He went downstairs to the Hawaiian Room to have rehearsals with his band, and I had the rest of the morning off.
Business was usual for the next several months. We all had a blast selling out weekends and some weekdays too! I think the weekday shows sold out because people were waiting for me to do fire knife and slip on my butt again. Little did they know, I got moved to do the fire knife show on Saturday nights, our most popular night.
One Saturday performance we had a special guest, Marlon Brando. We had had many celebreties come in and out of the room before: Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Marilyn Monroe, Joe DiMaggio. This Marlon Brando character seemed to be making a buzz amongst my hula sisters, but he didn’t mean a thing to me. It was just a regular Saturday night for me, and I was out to make my weeks worth of money!
I did my fire knife routine for the crowd again, fire-grabbing, pineapple splitting and all. I didn’t slip on the juice this time, but I did manage to get the crowd going again. The fire knife was always a fan favorite. I had to wait tables that evening too, and what do you know, Marlon Brando specifically asked management if “the fire dancing girl” could wait on his table. Not wanting to disappoint a celebrity, I obviously had to take up the job.
I approached Brando and his entourage. Clad in black suits, they reeked of cigarette smoke and liquor.
“Hey there missy. That was a mighty fine performance you did there.” Brando said with a cigarette in his mouth.
“Why thank you Mr. Brando. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would any of you gentlemen like something to drink? To eat?” I asked cordially.
“Not for now thank you. Would you like to sit with us?” He asked shooing one of his lackeys off of his chair.
“Ahh.. I really shouldn't I have other tables to…”
“Nonsense! Come sit!” He interrupted putting his hand on my back and pushing me toward the chair.
He sat there talking at me about the films that he was in. “Julius Caesar,” “The Wild One,” “A Streetcar Named…” I forget. All I can remember is that this guy was really rubbing me the wrong way and I wanted no part.
Then it got worse.
He asked me if I had plans after the show was over. I told him that I had to stay and clean up. He laughed and said he could get me out of that and I could go with him for the night. As he told me that he put his hand on my knee and started moving his hand up the grass skirt I was wearing.
“I think somebody called me!” I yelled. I sprang up and sprinted into the backstage kitchen and stayed there for the rest of the night. Apparently he was asking all the other waitresses where I had gone but even they didn’t know where I was. I didn’t come out until he had left the building, and all of my hula sisters were wondering how my evening with Marlon Brando went.
“I don't want to talk about it right now.” I told them all.
The next day a call came into the room in the early afternoon asking for me. One of my hula sisters called me into the office and said somebody was asking to speak with me. I didn’t know who it could be so I answered the phone eagerly.
“Hi this is Iwalani!”
“Hello?”
The voice was too familiar. It was Marlon.
“I don't like you!” I shouted, then I hung up, breathing heavily.
“Do you know who that was?” My hula sister asked.
“Of course I do! He’s a pig! He tried touching me!
Thank goodness this happened as I was wrapping up my time at the Hawaiian Room. Admittedly though, I was sad. I looked back to how Mona was saying how badly she missed Hawai'i, but realized how much she, my sisters, and even I, have grown to call New York City a second home. A few sisters had come and gone while I spent my year in the Hawaiian Room, but I, unlike them, didn’t end up leaving New York to go back home. I knew that I wouldn’t be making as much money in Hawai’i as I would be in New York, and sending money back to my family was a huge priority for me. Luckily after a performance one night there was a modeling agency recruiter that stopped me. He said he worked for a company that hired women to do photo shoots for some of the stores down on 5th Avenue, and that he really wanted me to give it a shot. I wasn’t ready to leave New York by the time my contract with the Hawaiian Room was up, so I took him up on his offer. I stayed in New York for a whopping 10 years before returning home, still returning to the Hawaiian Room before it closed in 1966. And what a decade that was. I met my husband at the 1964 New York Worlds Fair, where I was dancing hula with some of the other Lexington alums. He was a dashing young Puerto Rican man, and ended up being a professional golfer! I moved in with him in Spanish Harlem for a while and got married there before returning home to Hawai'i.
I gotta say, coming home after so long was just as magical as I thought it would be. The most trivial things: the scent sweet island air, the feeling of the cool ocean breeze, the savory taste of salmon poke, seemed like brand new experiences for me again. The Hawaiian Room tried its best to recreate my home, but if there is anything I learned from being away from Hawai'i for so long, it’s that nothing will ever come close to it.
As my grandma Tutu used to say, “Mau ke aloha no Hawai'i”
Love always for Hawai'i.
“Shahooo!!!” I shouted as the other end caught on fire.
The audience let out a collective “Ooooo!” as I twirled the two dancing flames around me. This time I was throwing it into the air and getting it dangerously close to the audience members who looked on in a combination of fear and excitement.
It was time for the grand finale, the moment where I chop pineapple in half in mid-air with the flaming knife. I had practiced this before and found myself to be better at it than the other girls—this show was in the bag. I fixed myself in the center of the stage, and one of my hula sisters lobbed a ripe pineapple into the air. I locked my gaze onto it, lunged forward, and sliced the spiny fruit in two shooting it juices all over the floor. I unknowingly stepped forward into the juicy spill to take my bow, and bathe in the glory that was the best darn fire knife show I ever did. But what was briefly my crowning achievement at the Hawaiian Room soon turned into my worst nightmare. As I stepped back to leave the room and make way for the next performance, my foot slipped on the pineapple juice, and I fell flat on my bottom. What was a deafening sea of applause immediately turned into an even more deafening sea of laughter.
I was ruined. I got up from the juicy puddle and sprinted back into the dressing room panting heavily. I sat myself down in a chair completely defeated. My hula sister Healoha was in the room getting ready to go on in a bit when see saw me in my collapsed anguish.
“What happened sis?” She asked as she did her hair.
“You won’t believe. I’m done! I’m going to get fired!” I screamed.
“Calm down! What did you do?”
“I… I… Fell on my butt.” I said with a groan.
“You what!?” She yelled as she broke out into laughter.
“Yeah… I slipped on the juice of the pineapple I cut in half.”
She couldn't stop laughing. I think I have her cramps since she was doubled over with tears in her eyes.
“Stop laughing! There’s a whole room of guests laughing at me right now!” I cried
Healoha tried regaining her composure. “Haha! It’s just.. haha! Ahh that’s so ridiculous! Gee I wish I were there to see that!”
“No be glad you weren’t!”
“Listen, you’re not getting fired. If anything you’re gonna get a bonus from Mr. Kinney for making the crowd go crazy like that. Like it or not you just made a name for yourself as the hula girl who fell on her butt, and that just got this place a bunch more business.” She went back to doing her hair.
The following day Mr. Kinney approached me about last night. While in the hotel lobby.
“Nice job out there yesterday Iwalani!” He said with a smile
“Ahh really? Even after what happened?”
He chuckled slightly. “Because of what happened!”
I was confused. Was Healoha right?
“I haven’t seen a crowd that ballistic in a very long time! You really know how to put on a show!”
“Gee… Thanks Mr. Kinney!”
“You keep that up okay! I’ll see you at rehearsal later today!”
He went downstairs to the Hawaiian Room to have rehearsals with his band, and I had the rest of the morning off.
Business was usual for the next several months. We all had a blast selling out weekends and some weekdays too! I think the weekday shows sold out because people were waiting for me to do fire knife and slip on my butt again. Little did they know, I got moved to do the fire knife show on Saturday nights, our most popular night.
One Saturday performance we had a special guest, Marlon Brando. We had had many celebreties come in and out of the room before: Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Marilyn Monroe, Joe DiMaggio. This Marlon Brando character seemed to be making a buzz amongst my hula sisters, but he didn’t mean a thing to me. It was just a regular Saturday night for me, and I was out to make my weeks worth of money!
I did my fire knife routine for the crowd again, fire-grabbing, pineapple splitting and all. I didn’t slip on the juice this time, but I did manage to get the crowd going again. The fire knife was always a fan favorite. I had to wait tables that evening too, and what do you know, Marlon Brando specifically asked management if “the fire dancing girl” could wait on his table. Not wanting to disappoint a celebrity, I obviously had to take up the job.
I approached Brando and his entourage. Clad in black suits, they reeked of cigarette smoke and liquor.
“Hey there missy. That was a mighty fine performance you did there.” Brando said with a cigarette in his mouth.
“Why thank you Mr. Brando. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would any of you gentlemen like something to drink? To eat?” I asked cordially.
“Not for now thank you. Would you like to sit with us?” He asked shooing one of his lackeys off of his chair.
“Ahh.. I really shouldn't I have other tables to…”
“Nonsense! Come sit!” He interrupted putting his hand on my back and pushing me toward the chair.
He sat there talking at me about the films that he was in. “Julius Caesar,” “The Wild One,” “A Streetcar Named…” I forget. All I can remember is that this guy was really rubbing me the wrong way and I wanted no part.
Then it got worse.
He asked me if I had plans after the show was over. I told him that I had to stay and clean up. He laughed and said he could get me out of that and I could go with him for the night. As he told me that he put his hand on my knee and started moving his hand up the grass skirt I was wearing.
“I think somebody called me!” I yelled. I sprang up and sprinted into the backstage kitchen and stayed there for the rest of the night. Apparently he was asking all the other waitresses where I had gone but even they didn’t know where I was. I didn’t come out until he had left the building, and all of my hula sisters were wondering how my evening with Marlon Brando went.
“I don't want to talk about it right now.” I told them all.
The next day a call came into the room in the early afternoon asking for me. One of my hula sisters called me into the office and said somebody was asking to speak with me. I didn’t know who it could be so I answered the phone eagerly.
“Hi this is Iwalani!”
“Hello?”
The voice was too familiar. It was Marlon.
“I don't like you!” I shouted, then I hung up, breathing heavily.
“Do you know who that was?” My hula sister asked.
“Of course I do! He’s a pig! He tried touching me!
Thank goodness this happened as I was wrapping up my time at the Hawaiian Room. Admittedly though, I was sad. I looked back to how Mona was saying how badly she missed Hawai'i, but realized how much she, my sisters, and even I, have grown to call New York City a second home. A few sisters had come and gone while I spent my year in the Hawaiian Room, but I, unlike them, didn’t end up leaving New York to go back home. I knew that I wouldn’t be making as much money in Hawai’i as I would be in New York, and sending money back to my family was a huge priority for me. Luckily after a performance one night there was a modeling agency recruiter that stopped me. He said he worked for a company that hired women to do photo shoots for some of the stores down on 5th Avenue, and that he really wanted me to give it a shot. I wasn’t ready to leave New York by the time my contract with the Hawaiian Room was up, so I took him up on his offer. I stayed in New York for a whopping 10 years before returning home, still returning to the Hawaiian Room before it closed in 1966. And what a decade that was. I met my husband at the 1964 New York Worlds Fair, where I was dancing hula with some of the other Lexington alums. He was a dashing young Puerto Rican man, and ended up being a professional golfer! I moved in with him in Spanish Harlem for a while and got married there before returning home to Hawai'i.
I gotta say, coming home after so long was just as magical as I thought it would be. The most trivial things: the scent sweet island air, the feeling of the cool ocean breeze, the savory taste of salmon poke, seemed like brand new experiences for me again. The Hawaiian Room tried its best to recreate my home, but if there is anything I learned from being away from Hawai'i for so long, it’s that nothing will ever come close to it.
As my grandma Tutu used to say, “Mau ke aloha no Hawai'i”
Love always for Hawai'i.
