Good Sh*t From Hawaii: The Last of the Great Original Tiki Lounges

On a whim, we tried to get into the Honolulu Surf Film Festival at the Hawaii Art Museum.  It was opening night and the Festival were screening one of those films that was a little smarter than you’d expect from the surfer crowd; you know, probably some tasteful acid jazz over 16mm footage of peeling surf – looking very much like lines of coke on a glass coffee table – from oddball surfari destinations like Kiribati or Fiji.  Art crowd meets surf crowd.  Since it was opening night there would be a cash bar and a live band.  Looking forward to tropical images, surf music, and good libation, we circled the Museum in my truck looking for parking.

I already knew we’d have trouble getting in.  There was a trickle of Beautiful People sauntering towards the Museum from the nearby street parking, all decked out in Aloha shirts, Little Black Dresses and dress slippers (you mainlanders call them “flip flops).  Anticipating them, I had dressed the same in my kodachrome Phil Edwards-designed,surf-themed Aloha shirt and khaki Duck Head shorts.  The beachy version of Tom Wolfe’s Radical Chic were all turning out.

Sea Shell Lamps

It would’ve been a memorable night had we gotten in.  But without advance tickets we were sh*t out of luck.  Since we didn’t want to be uncool and get in off the waiting list (nobody wants to be uncool in the surf world), we executed Plan B.

Mai Tai and Blue Hawaii

Plan B: The last of the original tiki bars in Honolulu is located not in Waikiki, but hidden away in an industrial area off Sand Island Access Road, amidst a boatwright’s lot, some warehouse storage facilities, and probably a junkyard or two.  It’s called the La Mariana Sailing Club, and although there in fact are slips for several dozen sailboats, it’s not like any yacht club I’ve ever seen.

Sunset at the LMSC

As you might expect if you know me, the LMSC is the real deal.  It didn’t pop up in the midst of the lounge and tiki revival movement of the late 90s.  By that point, the LMSC was already into 40 years in business at roughly the same location.  Every artifact of the genre there, the tikis, the glass fishing balls, the hanging blowfish lamps, have the patina of authenticity, the aura that it was hung in the Kennedy era by some monosyllabic manservant to Annette La Mariana Nahinu, the establishment’s founder.  There is dust settled into the cracks of the koa carvings and mahogany filigree that dates back to the era of Skinny Elvis.

The food, while generous of portion, is average at best, but really, you’re there for the Boat Drinks.  The drinks you sip on a Lurline class ocean liner.  Mai Tai.  Zombie.  Blue Hawaii.   All strong, all original, all irony-free.  Brought to your table or served at the bar, where, on the night of Plan B we drank bathed in the light of startled blowfish, next to a particularly salty and pickled patron of dubious condition.  We watched him get politely 86d because he hadn’t lost his sea legs yet and was still a bit unsteady on land.  Evidently, outside he engaged in fisticuffs with some of the solid, and very real tikis lining the walkway.

Glass Fishing Balls

There were other tiki bars in Honolulu, mostly in Waikiki.  Famously, there was a Trader Vic’s at the International Marketplace and a Polynesian Village (founded by Don the Beachcomber), but they, and the multitude of smaller, lesser known establishments had all but died out by the 80s, when irony as a precious natural resource was discovered.  The only ones left standing on the island by that time were the LMSC and the Tahitian Lanai.

The Tahitian Lanai, and it’s adjacent tiki themed hotel, the Waikikian, sounds like it was a fine place in its day, hosting many sing alongs around its much revered piano bar.  I’ve heard anecdotes of holiday parties there involving guests like Martin Denny, Connie Francis, the Lennon Sisters, the cast of “Hawaiian Eye”.  It remained open until 1997, leaving the LMSC alone to carry the torch, which Annette did until her passing in 2008.  In the 90s when I started going to La Mariana, she would greet us as we walked in, dressed in a long floral mu’u mu’u and often a haku lei on her head, shushing her caged parrot.  And the LMSC continues to outlive her in exactly the manner she intended.

The Kodachrome Phil Edwards Surf-Themed Aloha Shirt

On the night of Plan B we had a C+ pupu platter and potent mai tais and Blue Hawaiis.  There may have been a martini and a beer in there, too.  We watched the sunset over my shoulder and through the masts of the LMSC fleet.  The place got dimmer, but the colorful glass fishing balls turned on.  Tourists and regulars were all charmed by the place.  The same entertainer from the Tahitian Lanai piano bar was there, too, singing for us, encouraging the shameless to sing along.

Believe me, Radical Surf Chic was not missed.  An irony-free zone, when it can be found here, is definitely Good Sh*t from Hawaii.

Spiny Blowfish

Fresh-Water Fish Tank, here?

Piano, Ukulele, and Sing Alongs

The Old Salt

Good Sh*t From Hawaii: Aloha Shirts for Aloha Friday

In Honolulu, the alternative to the business casual of denim shirts, is the Aloha Shirt. In fact, it is less an alternative than it is an institution in its own right. For as long as I can remember, long before "I.T." specialists anonymously buzzed the hallways of quiet law firms in their Dockers and jeans shirts, there was the Aloha Shirt, worn daily by bankers, CPAs, and all other professionals. My father wore one to Equitable five days a week. The Aloha Shirt, especially those made by venerable local clothiers have always been acceptable business wear downtown.

I, on the other hand, took a long time to warm up to the idea of colorful patterned shirts as anything other than tacky, even in this Aloha State. Of course, I changed my attitude, especially when I realized that many tasteful patterns could be had. Add to that the comfort of cool short sleeves in our tropical climate and the fact that many of the nicest ones are made right here in Hawaii, and I'm ready to defend the Aloha Shirt against the sniping of any sartorialist.

To the right you find the classic Reyn Spooner, an almost always muted affair, unencumbered of the many garish colors associated with the Aloha Shirt of the cheesy variety. This one was given to me by my sister because it depicted outrigger canoe paddlers, and I love it. Pull this shirt over your head, tuck it into a pair of tropical weight dress pants or, of course, khakis, and you can hit the board room, deposition, or country club without fear of being underattired. Just don't go to court in one, unless it's a settlement conference in chambers. Going on the record is still a suit and tie occasion, as well it should be. But the Reyn Spooner is about as Establishment as they come around here. In the late fifties, Reyn McCullogh, a businessman from Catalina Island, California, saw the potential that jet travel and statehood offered Hawaii. Ruth Spooner was already a master seamstress making the best shirts and surf trunks in Waikiki when Reyn brought his venture here. Like the formation of a law firm, both their names graced the letterhead and Reyn Spooner was born. Now, whether Trad or Prep or modern, and you don't want to swim in a world of cheese, the Reyn Spooner is the Safe Bet of Aloha Shirts, .

To the left is the Kahala*, since 1936 another member of the venerable Battleship Row of Aloha wear. The Reyn Spooner may be a safe bet brand, but there's nothing safer in pattern than blue and white, for sure. Not having any court appearances, I wore mine this past friday, so that I could seamlessly go straight from work to happy hour. Aloha Friday existed long before silicon valley execs could even imagine casual friday. In Honolulu, every friday is casual and to a lesser extent monday through thursday is a sort of friday. Matched with some pegged chinos and my Jolly Roger belt (thanks John) and Weejuns, I like to think I've got that travelling surfer vibe from The Endless Summer going on.

So far two shirts, two brands and I have yet to detect the stink of cheese.

Manuheali'i is the name of a label from the Windward Side of Oahu, in Kailua, a place that some locals still consider the other side of the moon rather than just the other side of the island. Although I've lived here for almost 40 years, I still get lost in Kailua, because I'm from over the mountains. And Kailua is no one horse town, either! Manu is a relatively new brand, so new in fact, that they don't tout their age on their website. My wife seems to love their patterns and has gifted me a trio of their shirts. The one below is my favorite, a pullover (half placket) with tanglefern print. Quietly sprinkled into their design is their script logo. My wife has taken the liberty of gifting the exact same patterns to herself and our son. The two of them are the only people on the planet I would ever wear matching clothes with, and with these Manu prints, I must say it's still not an overload of pattern.

But really, the best reason to wear an Aloha Shirt, in my book, is because you want to "kick back" and relax, maybe have a mai tai at the Halekulani Hotel House Without A Key or enjoy some finger food and stingers with the Jetsons at Honolulu's last rotating restaurant, The Top of Waikiki. If that's the case, don't even worry about business casual. Just do what Honolulu does best: casual casual.

What follows are some of my fun Aloha Shirts, ones I probably wouldn't wear to the office, but ones I'm proud to wear to anything from fancy cocktails to baby lu'au. To the right is my Primo Beer shirt by Go Barefoot, another gift from my wife, this time for Valentine's Day while we were engaged. This shirt usually goes untucked with Duck Head shorts or my Levi's. I've gotten many compliments from locals who remember this Hawaiian beer from the sixties and seventies when it was the choice of everyone from fishermen to politicians.



Next is another favorite of mine, another Reyn Spooner with nifty graphics featuring the Disney superheroes, the Incredibles. Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Dash, and Violet the Invisible Teen are all depicted, as are second-bananas like Frozone and the Edith Head-like "Edna Mode". Man I loved that movie. If you've never seen it (and what OnceABachelor with a kid hasn't?), it's cooler than Mad Men for sure, and an absolute must-see.
Next is a sweet kodachrome-toned job, again by Reyn Spooner, but designed by deified sixties surfer Phil Edwards. This pattern celebrates surfing's early days, with the names of some noted surf spots like Makaha and Waimea Bay printed right on the shirt and mixed in with some classic surf images. This is a tough shirt to pair with anything other than very faded blue jeans, although I can get away wearing fancy linens and a pair of dainty Coach loafers in tan leather with it. No socks, please. Then my wife is putty, but that's another story.


And last but not least is my famous (at least around here) party Aloha Shirt, although it's not made in Hawaii. I bought this orange and green Attitude Adjuster in Bora Bora, when I was accompanying students on an environmental awareness exchange through the islands of Tahiti. This shirt gives new meaning to the term Go To Hell. It really lets the rest of the party-goers know what your intentions are. This shirt is Strong Medicine, and I don't wear it often, but I love it.

I will square off against any clothes horse in its defense, and in defense of all of my beloved Aloha Shirts.

* By the way, all the photographs from the Kahala website were taken by a photographer friend of mine, Joss Descoteaux, who specializes in paddling and surf themed photography.

The End of Summer Raid

August. Even when you live in the land of the Endless Summer, summer is gonna end. Bookended by Memorial Day and Labor Day, for my family it is a glorious stretch of beach outings, barbecues, unscheduled days off, camp outs, and various larks. This season, so far, we had four days at a fabulous beach house on the quiet windward side of the island, a camping trip complete with huge illegal bonfire and meteorite-like marshmallows, numerous evenings at the King Kamehameha Club, lots of surfing, and goodness knows what else.

To do all of that, you've got to have your kit together, ready to bring it, just like the Long Range Desert Group brung it to the Afrika Corps. Swiftly. Confidently. Effectively. Definitively. The Rat Patrol was already on re-run rotation when I discovered it as an eight year old. I have never been more enamored of a television show I rarely saw. This was back in the early '70s, when regularly scheduled programming hardly was. Some afternoons I would turn on the TV, tune the rabbit ears and there it would happen to be. The Rat Patrol. Sgt. Troy, prissy Sgt. Moffitt, Hitch, and Tully, cresting dunes at high speed in the greatest TV vehicles ever broadcast, a pair of G.I. jeeps mounted with .50 cal. belt-fed machine guns, all trained at the halftracks and "panzers" of Capt. Dietrich, the honorable Prussian.

All that pre-teen adrenaline certainly contributed to my choice of family summer vehicle: the crew cab with surf racks, in desert tan. Capable of transporting all the equipment you need to whatever outdoor destination you've chosen for your tribe of family, friends, and law partners.

I got mine mere months after my son was born. Turned in the two door pick-up after my wife rightfully cut my head off for trying to stuff my son's baby-seat into the rear "Xtra Cab". Sideways. I've never looked back (well maybe a little. That old truck would've taken me to hell and back). This crew cab has since dutifully carried my family through five summers, and I fully expect my son to drive it a dozen years from now.  I dubbed it "Warthog", because to me it is reminiscent of the indefatigable Fairchild A-10 Thunderbolt II attack aircraft, basically a flying rat patrol jeep.



So with roughly two weeks left in August, I've still got hunting coming up, and then beach cabins for the Labor Day weekend. And I still haven't had to mount the fifty cals in the back.

Someday, this summer's gonna end. And when it does, hopefully it ends like an episode of Rat Patrol.

Bottom pic: The Crew Cab, laden wih surfboard, pole tent, folding tent, 3 coolers of food and alcohol, Weber grill, beach toys, water guns, barbecue gear, dry goods, 40 lbs. charcoal, and son sitting safely in the backseat.

Good Sh*t from Hawaii: Bathys Watch Co. 100Fathoms Automatic

I've lived most of my life in Hawaii and, yes it's paradise. I wouldn't live anywhere else, but really, its greatest claims to fame are Don Ho (R.I.P.) and Hawaii Five-O. Hardly illustrious by the standards of polite society but if so moved, I can give polite society such a philodemic bitch-slapping on the merits of both Uncle Don (Tiny Bubbles. 'Nuff said) and H5O (Jack Lord's sharkskin suit, to begin with) it would be ugly. Honestly though, as much as everyone would love to visit the Islands, not everyone truly appreciates all the different amazing things they have to offer.

And so I hereby inaugurate Good Sh*t From Hawaii, beginning with the Little Watch Company That Could, which, as it turns out, comes straight outta Kauai. Bathys is run, almost single-handedly by John Patterson. John, as far as I can tell is nothing if not a fine time manager (no pun intended), who balances scientific endeavors (i.e. his day job) with horological entrepreneurialism, a love of Hawaiian watersports, and an appreciation of vintage automobiles (old Volvos, SLs, and Willys jeeps).

Bathys hit the watch scene only a few years ago as the only watch company from Hawaii to offer Swiss made precision timepieces. The term Swiss Made is jealously protected by, well, the Swiss, to ensure quality and superlative workmanship, so you know you can count on a Bathys. I have one of the original 100 Fathom automatics, actually a 2nd generation Bathys, in stainless steel with a black dial. I bought it on the strength of the Bathys reputation, which grew thanks to the internet, and because of this very evocative photograph (taken from the Bathys Website):

This image, depicting the arm of an eco-adventurer pal of John, spoke to me. It told me the watch was just a bit different but still tasteful, and I just had to have it. As you can see, this watch sits proud of the wrist, a 41mm beautifully brushed silver stainless steel case on a waterproof leather band with contrast stitching, big green numbers and a blood-red sweep second hand. It boasts a slightly curved sapphire crystal that distorts at flat angles (love it or hate it, the former for me) and thunks reassuringly when you tap it with your fingernail. It also has a beautiful chapter ring indexed both in 60 seconds and 24 hours, also in confident red, black, and white. Lastly, the face is marked with one of my favorite words: "Hawaii", and on the case back John has engraved and labeled the main Hawaiian Islands. Here's mine, serial # 6155, on my lanai railing wearing the original leather strap with deployant buckle (enlarge the image, seriously, get a load of the face!):

And here it is, at a waterfall on Kauai, wearing an aftermarket solid-link stainless steel bracelet. John will be coming out with his own bracelet with fitted lugs soon:

And finally, here we are diving on a pod of spinner dolphins on the island of Lanai and sporting a nylon NATO strap:
Because of the absence of a timing bezel, it can't really claim to be a complete dive watch. However, with a 200 meter depth rating, a spirited argument to the contrary can be made. What the watch is, in fact, is a consumate watersports watch that can be surfed, paddled, swum, or worn diving, as I have done many times, without issue. In that way, it is as Hawaiian as can be. Unlike a pure diver, however, it is stylish enough to be worn to court in a suit, as I have done probably weekly. In that way, it is as OnceWereBachelorean as can be.

In a short span, Kauai resident John Patterson, a man after my own soul (and therefore yours too) has taken his little watch company from internet pipsqueak to cult favorite, a three-time (and counting) invitee to the illustrious Basel Watch Fair in, where else, Switzerland. John has expanded his line of watches to include the classic 100F (my favorite), a variety of imposing dive watches called Benthics, to their newest line of lunar phase ladies watches called Wahine (Hawaiian for, well, woman). Alas, Bathys have made the jump from internet sales only to brick and mortar retail at stores on the East Coast and London, but it's still the same great watch, with the same great customer service and approachability.

So the uninitiated may think that Hawaii is all kitsch and tack, but really if you look hard, you can find a lot of Good Shi*t From Hawaii, starting with Bathys.

For more info on Bathys, go to John's website, bathyswatch.com. Do yourself a favor and let the intro play so you can hear a great cover of Bob Marley's "Jammin'" on ukulele. Make sure to turn it up.

John, I hope you don't mind me borrowing pictures off your website. This is, after all, an unsolicited and unpaid-for testimonial for I am no shill. However, if you want me to remove them, let me know and I would be happy to do so immediately.

The Big Kahuna

There is a whole host of surfing on film (and video) out there. This one's not the first. But it is the Best. Robert August and Mike Hynson at Cape St. Francis, South Africa. No "dude". No tongue studs. Not even earings. No tribal tats. Just a couple of clean cut All-American boys travelling the world in seersucker jackets, skinny ties, & flat-front chinos.

I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down

OK, so as any OnceWereBachelor knows, Marriage and Fatherhood, take its toll. You get old and you get busy. You can't log hours in the gym, on the road, or (in my case) in the outrigger canoe quite like you did in your twenties, without hurting yourself both mind and body. One must exercise efficiently. I've turned to two things. The first is Bikram's yoga (the hot room yoga) which is a hell I'll save for another post (it's enough for you to know at this point that it is hell).

The second is stand-up paddle surfing, which can be heaven, once you get the hang of it. Here's some guys who have.



And then there's me. I just bought a board last week (a hard to get Blane Chambers 10'3"), and although I've logged many hours surfing and even more paddling. Neither completely prepares you for stand-up, which is touted as an excellent core and conditioning workout. I'm supposed to experience weight loss and the rock hard abs I never had when I was young enough to both paddle and drink competitively. Right now, though, all I do is float around and fall down.

Which brings me to this great Elvis Costello cover of the old Stax single I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down.



The upshot of all of this, I guess, is care for yourself so that you can have the longevity to see yourself get into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, even after coming into the game as a stone outcast.