Surfing about Music. Timothy J. Cooley
We should not be surprised to find printed in large font at the bottom of the page: “Used by Permission of the Hawaii Tourist Bureau,” an organization supported by Honolulu businesses that early on saw the advantages of using both music and surfing to advertise Hawaiʻi.48
Singing through the songbook, our initiation into a Hawaiian lifestyle continues with the next song, “Kamaaina” (“The Old Timer” is the title translation provided by Noble, but kama‘aina literally means “child of the land” or “native born”). This song is in the voice of a man who has come to Honolulu, finds it paradise, and wants to become a native. The very next song in Noble’s collection completes the transformation: “I’m Not a Malihini Anymore.” A malihini is one from somewhere else, a foreigner. In the song, the singer claims, “I’ve learned to eat fish and poi, and swim like a real beach boy,” and concludes, at the end of the song, “I’m not a malihini any more I’m telling you, I’m just a Kamaaina now.”
Our singing protagonist may have gone native, but if hapa haole songs are our guide, he and his ilk stick close to Honolulu, especially the Waikīkī neighborhood, including named tourist hotels such as the Royal Hawaiian—at least in the English-language songs.49 In Noble’s book, we have a cosmopolitan view of at least Honolulu as a nice place to visit, maybe even settle down. Surfing is one of the many attractions of Hawaiʻi, along with local women, stunning scenery, and temperate weather.
FIGURE 9. “How to Ride a Surfboard,” by Harold Coffin. Published in Johnny Noble’s Book of Famous Hawaiian Melodies (New York: Miller Music, 1935), 8.
The third songbook considered here was compiled by Charles E. King. Eminent Hawaiian ethnomusicologist and performer Amy Kuʻuleialoha Stillman refers to Charles E. King’s songbooks as “bibles” of Hawaiian music that “could be found in many a piano bench across the islands.”50 One-quarter Hawaiian, King was fluent in the Hawaiian language and was close to the royal family. Queen Emma was his godmother, and Queen Liliʻuokalani was one of his music teachers.51 Though a contemporary of Sonny Cunha’s, he represented a more conservative approach to Hawaiian music—one that reflected the aesthetics of the last quarter of the nineteenth century, when the monarchy was still in place, rather than the first half of the twentieth century, when the mainland consolidated its influence over the islands. While critical of hapa haole songs, King included some in his later compilations,52 including one of his most popular compositions, “The Pidgin English Hula” (first copyright 1934). Thus King’s attitudes toward Hawaiian music provide a counterpoint to those of Cunha and Noble, though there are some structural similarities to the way he presented his song collections.
The first edition of King’s Book of Hawaiian Melodies was published in 1916.53 Though I am using the 1948 and final edition of this collection of 101 songs and mele, it has much in common with the original edition and can be read as a history of popular Hawaiian songs from the first half of the twentieth century. I find only two songs that mention surfing. The first is “Kaimana Hila” (Diamond Head), by King (copyright 1916), where in the last verse the singer proclaims:
We all went to the Seaside Hotel
And looked with wonder at all the riders of the surf
Gliding swiftly.
The second, “Honolulu Maids,” is also attributed to King and again has an original copyright date of 1916. This song is “after an old style of hula,” though the protagonist is depicted as a visitor to Honolulu, and indeed the style and content could easily be heard as hapa haole.54 It contains six short verses in which the protagonist is beguiled by the maids of Honolulu and, in the last three verses, learns how to surf and has an exchange with one maid in particular:
With those charming beautiful maids of Honolulula,
I learned to ride the surf like a kamaaina la.
I said to one beautiful maid of Honolulula,
“May, oh may I ride on life’s ocean with you la?”
Oh that charming beautiful maid of Honolulula,
Gazed at me and said, “Aole hike la.”
I take the proposition to “ride on life’s ocean with you” to be a marriage proposal, and I find rather nice the reference to surfing used as a metaphor for sharing life together. I also imagine the beautiful Honolulu maid smiling warmly as she gazed at her suitor and replied in Hawaiian, a language he did not understand: “Aole hike la” (No, never can do, la). Poor haole. He never knew what hit him. That Honolulu maid probably gets a proposal every weekend. Leaving our haole’s heartbreak aside, I note that in this song, it was the Honolulu maids who taught the tourist how to surf, not their male counterparts, the famous Waikīkī Beachboys.
Like Noble’s book, King’s overtly promotes tourism to Hawaiʻi in song and in photographic inserts that celebrate Hawaii’s attractions. These include a two-page spread featuring a map of the Hawaiian islands, labeled “The Paradise of the Pacific, Territory of Hawaii, USA,” that shows shipping routes to Vancouver, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, the Panama Canal, South America, the Antipodes, and “the Orient”—all radiating out from prominently marked Honolulu and Waikīkī Beach. On two corners of the spread are photographs of swimmers at “Waikiki in January” and “Surf-riders at Waikiki.” Even more interesting for our purposes is the photograph on page 101 featuring, in the center, Duke Kahanamoku, flanked by two bits of text (fig. 10). On the left side:
You may travel the world over but you can find no sport so exhilarating and intensely exciting as surfing. The Hawaiians are children of the sea and they love to play with the waves as they sweep towards the shore by riding majestically on them with surf board or canoe. Waikiki beach affords the sojourner in Hawaii the best opportunity for enjoying this harmless pastime of the natives.
And on the right:
Duke Kahanamoku, Hawaii’s favorite son and the champion swimmer of the world, is here depicted with his winning smile and reliable surfboard. He is ready for a plunge into the waters of Waikiki.55
With surfing’s greatest ambassador in the center, two now familiar tropes of Hawaiian surfing are rehearsed: Hawaiians are amphibious “children of the sea”; and Waikīkī is the best place in the world to learn to surf.
FIGURE 10. Duke Kahanamoku featured in King’s Book of Hawaiian Melodies (Honolulu: Charles E. King, 1948), 101.
The last collection of songs I consider here, the online source Hapa Haole Songs, rendered proportionately about the same number of references to surfing as the three publications considered above. Of the approximately 560 songs featured, only seven mention surfing (or heʻe nalu); a few others feature canoeing. Four of the songs mentioning surfing are dated after 1960, and represent a different era for surfing—one that I discuss in the next chapter. This leaves a scant three songs that reference surfing. These include a song from about 1930 by Paul Summers called “I’ve Gone Native Now,” which, like Noble’s “I’m Not a Malihini Anymore,” includes surfing as one of the marks of going native:
I go surfing every day
Way outside, catch a big wave
Riding kahakai ‘a ‘ole kapakahi
I’ve gone native now.
As any surfer today understands, it is not enough to know how to ride a wave. One must also know a bit of surfer lingo: kahakai ‘a ‘ole kapakahi (riding beachward without turning around, or straight in).
One particularly interesting if late song from the era is Jack Pitman and Bob Magoon’s 1952 “My Waikiki Girl.” The third verse paints this impressive picture:
And when the sea is dark and stormy,