SI: . . . we used to go. Cooke Field was already there. So we used to play in Cooke Field, and Sundays, we used to cut grass in Manoa. The whole Manoa Valley, we used to cut grass for the horse and for the pigs, whatever we can, you know.
CM: Did you do any hiking up in Manoa Valley or. . . .
SI: Yes, we did. In fact, the whole Manoa Valley was our playground, just about.
CM: Did you ever get into trouble?
SI: No. Not when we were children.
CM: How would you characterize the life you led as a kid in Manoa and Kapa‘a[kea]?
SI: Well, after Mother died, we lived a hectic and full life. Full life, because we had our work cut out. The work had to be done. Then, of course, we had to go to school.
CM: Where did you go to school?
SI: Mo‘ili‘ili School, which is the grammar school from class one to eight, until I graduated in 1922. Twin brother and I graduated Mo‘ili‘ili School, 1922 . . .
CM: Where was the school, exactly?
SI: Mo‘ili‘ili School is still where it is. Right up there, in Mo‘ili‘ili, by the Mo‘ili‘ili graveyard. That’s right. Opposite the Humane Society.
CM: Do you remember any of your teachers or anything from those students?
SI: I do, I do. I don’t see them. I haven’t seen them in ages. (Chuckles)
CM: You mentioned the funeral of Queen Lili‘uo . . .
SI: Lili‘uokalani.
CM: (Chuckles) Yeah.
SI: Lili‘uokalani.
CM: Do you remember any other things that were happening about that time?
SI: Well, the war was on. I know the war was on. We knew the war was on.
CM: How did you know? What was happening? What did you see going on around you?
SI: My father would talk about it.
CM: What did he say?
SI: Every now and then he talked about the war. And that would affect the prices of the pigs and the feed. Because we had to use barley and milling. Milling, M-I-L-L-I-N-G. That was a fine, powdered form of wheat.
CM: What else was happening in Hawai‘i at that time?
SI: Well, I know Waikiki was very, very. . . . Chee. We would go to Waikiki now and then on a weekend if we had time. From the University of Hawai‘i area we would walk down to Waikiki, past the taro patches and the rice fields. All of the Ala Wai area were rice fields, those days.
CM: What was Waikiki like?
SI: Oh, just like any--I would say, village, you know.
CM: Why did you go down there?
SI: Well, we would go down there to swim and pick up dates, big dates.
CM: Oh, not women dates?
SI: No.
CM: Did you surf at all?
SI: No. Never did surf.
CM: Did you watch ’em surf down there where the surf is?
SI: Yes. They used to surf. Oh, those big boards, they used to have.
CM: Did you ever see, you know, Duke Kahanamoku or any of those guys?
SI: Later on, I became very familiar with Duke and his brother Louis and Sam and Sargent. I was very friendly with four of the boys, four of the Kahanamokus.
But getting back to those days, I remember that before we went to school--I’m speaking only of the time when myself and my twin brother with probably one or two of the others--after my father would go out to collect the garbage or the swill, we would be--especially when we had vegetables to market--we would dig, pull the vegetables. We would wash it, tie it up, and . . .
CM: What kind of vegetables?
SI: Oh, could be white and mustard cabbage. But white cabbage and mustard cabbage, chiefly. Then we had turnips, carrots . . .
CM: Root kind stuff?
SI: You call that root? Yeah, that’s right. And we had others, too, but only when they were available. And then, we had an oversupply, he and I would get all these things together because we had to do it. Because when Father says, okay, we have to go out and market it, we would do that. We get a big basket. And he and I would pack these up in the basket nicely, and he and I would get this long rod, wooden pole. He and I would carry it like you see in the Good Earth, the old Asiatic movie where the farmers would carry these baskets. We would go down from the University of Hawai‘i area down to Mo‘ili‘ili villages and peddle it. And then come homeˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
CM: This is with your twin brother?
SI: My twin brother. With my twin brother.
CM: You have this pole over your shoulder with this big basket of vegetables in the middle . . .
SI: Right in center between he and I. And we would peddle whatever we can, sell whatever we can, we are able to. Then we would come home because everything was timed. School would start eight o’clock. So we had to get up about five [o’clock] to do that. We come home, get dressed. Clean up and dress and gone. We’d go to school. Bring our own lunch. And of course, we didn’t go out all the time. But . . .
CM: Did you like it?
SI: . . . when we had to do that--well, I would not say we liked it. It just had to be done, that’s all there is to it. We were very bashful. You know, we were kind of ashamed like, but somebody had to do it. We were, you know, beggars can’t be choosers.
CM: (Chuckles) Where would you go?
SI: To the various villages. We did not go to the main thoroughfare, King Street. Always back more so toward the. . . . Between King Street and the quarry area, the villages. And then, we were very happy when the weekends and the holiday came around because, naturally, we’d have all day. Father would come home. Then the wagon and the horse would be available to us. And we didn’t have to go to school. We would use the wagon to sell our vegetables. And like I said, we didn’t do that all the time, only when we had enough supply. Because we ate a lot of vegetables. We ate chicken. Chicken and the eggs. Every now and then, you know, my father would bring home a big tuna, probably twenty-five to twenty-eight or thirty pounds.
CM: Where would he get that?
SI: He would buy it at the docks. And those days, fish was very plentiful and cheap. So, we would eat it raw, cooked, or dried, you know.
CM: You never ate much pork?
SI: No, we didn’t eat too much pork. We didn’t eat too much pork. Of course, we had kalua pig now and then, you know.
CM: Did you speak Japanese or did you speak pidgin or . . .
SI: I completed fifth grade and went to the sixth grade when I quit. I left school, Japanese school, in the sixth grade.
CM: So you were speaking mainly Japanese around the house?
SI: Japanese and English. Around the house, mostly English. Amongst ourselves, we would speak English.
CM: Pidgin or. . . .
SI: Not exactly pidgin. In fact, we hardly knew what pidgin was like. Of course, not really good English. Mixed with Japanese, of course. And that wouldn’t be pidgin. Pidgin is altogether a different lingo, you know.
CM: Did you play with Hawaiian kids?
SI: We played with all kind of kids, but mostly, when we were kids, we played among ourselves. We fought. We fought like cats and dogs. (Chuckles) Just because Mother was not around.
CM: When you said “Japanese school,” what Japanese school was that?
SI: There was a Mo‘ili‘ili Japanese School. Today, it’s on the makai side toward Diamond Head of the Mo‘ili‘ili Star Market.
CM: So you went there as well as Mo‘ili--Mo‘ili‘ili . . .
SI: Mo‘ili‘ili School.
CM: You went to both?
SI: Well, in the morning we go to the English school, then in the afternoon, to the Japanese school. ’Cause the Japanese school would start about, well, about an hour later after the grammar school adjourns at two o’clock. Mo‘ili‘ili [Japanese] School would start up probably at (three) o’clock. So, you see, we spent considerable time away from home during weekdays.
CM: Were you in good physical shape back then? Were you . . .
SI: Oh, yes. We were in good physical condition.
CM: But you mentioned you were small for your age?
SI: Only thing, we were small.
CM: You’d get picked on by any bigger boys?
SI: Not too much, not too much. I wouldn’t say too much. Because we didn’t mingle too much with them, anyway.
CM: So then after you went up to, what, eighth grade, Mo‘ili‘ili?
SI: I went up to eighth grade and went to McKinley High School. Well, it’s all right going to school, it’s okay, but, you see, we had a very difficult time because there was no money. Father had so many kids. See, at one time, probably there were five, six kids going to school. If every kid had to get ten cents or twenty cents apiece, that would be lot of money. And he just didn’t have it. So when we went to McKinley, it was not too much money, the fact that we didn’t have the money, see? But the first year was all right. I went out to hang around with the football team. And then, I muscled my way in---no, I got my way in, talking to them. They made me, more or less, a water boy like. Water boy like and masseur--massage assistant.
CM: At McKinley?
SI: At McKinley, 1922 football team.
CM: Massage? They had massage?
SI: Oh, yeah. Football players had to have massage. And there was a coach, swimming coach, by the name of Harvey Chilton. He became very famous. He was the coach of the Olympic swimmers, Manuela and Maiola Kalili. Maiola--Manuela and Maiola Kalili brothers. There were other swimmers, too, that he had brought up. You know, trained them, and they made good in the Olympics. And he was the head, I would say, the trainer of this football team and I was his assistant masseur. Assistant, I did practically all the work masseuring, but at the end of the season, they gave me seventy-five dollars and that was quite a treat.
CM: Wow. (Chuckles) “They” being who?
SI: The manager. The manager of that team was Ben Kong. Later he became a realtor.
CM: That must have been a lot of money, back then, for you.
SI: Oh, it was. It was a lot of money.
CM: What’d you do? Give it to your dad?
SI: No, I don’t think so. I splurged it.
CM: On what?
SI: Oh, everything. I don’t even know what I used this on. Can’t seem to remember. But anyway . . .
CM: So you just went one year at McKinley?
SI: McKinley. And the following---that was all right. I did well the first year. But that’s the mistake I made in going through school. I got to liking the athletes and the people around them. So, naturally, you know, I start--after the first semester in McKinley of the second year--I started to cut classes. In the first semester I would get all good marks, mostly A’s. Then I would cut class for three months, three, four months, and I flunked out the second year.
CM: What did you do when you cut out?
SI: I just didn’t go school period. I just ran around with the boys.
CM: Doing what?
SI: Going around town and going to Waikiki.
CM: What did you guys do?
SI: Go swimming. That’s the thing, we used to go swimming . . .
CM: You used to cause trouble?
SI: No, no trouble. But just hung around with the wrong guys.
CM: Were these athletes or were these just . . .
SI: Some athletes and some were not. But by that time, I didn’t know. I was all mixed up. So the following year, I quit McKinley and I transferred to Lahainaluna. Because my algebra teacher at McKinley transferred to Lahainaluna, a Mrs. Hollinger. She’s was very friendly. But I asked her at Lahainaluna if they would accept me. She recommended they to take me, so it was okay.
CM: What about with your dad?
SI: Oh, he’s all---well, he has too many other kids to worry about. My other brothers left here. My eldest brother left Hawai‘i about 1920, I presume. The second one left---no. My third eldest brother left here about 1922 on a White Line. They call that some--it was line out of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I'll find out the name later. They were out off Tokyo Bay in 1922 during the earthquake, so he told me they couldn’t land in Japan. They came back to Philadelphia. That’s where he got off. And today, he lives in (Los Angeles).
CM: So you went to Maui just because . . .
SI: I went to Maui. And then I made a mistake again.
CM: Wait, wait. Before we get to that, you went there because you liked . . .
(Taping interrupted, then resumes.)
CM: . . . at that point?
SI: No, this was my first trip out to the outer islands.
CM: And so, you just decided to pack up on your own and . . .
SI: Yeah, that’s right.
CM: Who were you going to live with down there?
SI: We lived at the dormitory. You see, Lahainaluna was founded by congressional act. Senator McCarran--there were two senators, Walter McCarran and some other guy passed this act to make this vocational school, whereby you can work in the school area. You get paid and you sign the check over to the school and that pays for your board and lodging and breakage fee, like tools. So, I was accepted and I became a governor of one of the dormitories. There were three dormitories.
CM: How old were you at the time?
SI: Oh shucks, I was, let’s see, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.
CM: You were seventeen at the time?
SI: Sixteen, seventeen. Seventeen, I was.
CM: And really, how far did you go in school at that point?
SI: That was my last year.
CM: But you had dropped out of McKinley.
SI: Yeah, but I went to Lahainaluna and I got out of there in January 1925, so I was (seventeen born November 12, 1907).
CM: So what was Maui like?
SI: Eighteen. Seventeen, yeah. Maui? Oh, the school was all right because I got around Maui but not too much because we were. . . . It was a big---we had a dormitory that we had about approximately 100 students.
CM: How did you get to Maui?
SI: By the Maunakea, S.S. Maunakea, inter-island boat.
CM: Was that your first time on a boat like that?
SI: True.
CM: What did you think?
SI: All right.
CM: (Chuckles) Oh.
SI: There was another party . . .
CM: How long did it take?
SI: There were couple of boys from Honolulu.
CM: How long did the trip take?
SI: Well, I would say about, during those days, were about, oh, five hours to Maui.
CM: Were you scared at all?
SI: No, not exactly. Steerage. You know, they had steerage on those things.
CM: No, I mean, were you scared going off on your own like that?
SI: No. I liked it. I wanted to get away from Honolulu because, chee, I just couldn’t get away from all this, you know, these people that I was running around with. And that’s bad. So, but then I went out for the debating team. I debated against Maui High, Hilo High. Then like a damn fool, I went out for football because it was football season. And all this school, you know, this school rah-rah? You get the rah-rah spirit? Spirit without ability. (Chuckles)
CM: What position did you play?
SI: Quarterback. I was the assistant quarterback but the first-string quarterback hurt his foot, injured foot. He couldn’t play. So I had to get in there and play.
CM: Were you any good?
SI: No. I fumbled the ball. In the third quarter, I fumbled the punt and then they scored from about the twelve-yard line.
CM: Tell me about that game. Who were you playing?
SI: Maui High School. We played Maui High School. And then on the island of Maui, Lahainaluna and Maui High, even until today, is the traditional game. It’s one of those big games, you know. And it was played at the Maui County Fair, yearly Maui County Fair, and they play that every year at the fair.
CM: And how long had you been standing in for the quarterback?
SI: That was the first time.
CM: First time?
SI: That’s right.
CM: So the big game comes and you’re the quarterback.
SI: Yeah. (Chuckles)
CM: Tell me how the game went from the beginning.
SI: It was a close game. Nobody scored until the third quarter. After I fumbled, that’s when they got the big break.
CM: Were you calling the plays or was the coach or what?
SI: I called the plays.
CM: What did you try?
SI: Of course, the coach would send in the play. But off tackle. Off tackle passes.
CM: Lot of running?
SI: Lot of running. In the old days, that’s all they did, run.
CM: Did you get creamed by the . . .
SI: No, I did not carry the ball. Interference. I ran interference as the quarterback.
CM: So you’d hand off the ball?
SI: That’s right. Or the ball go direct to the carrier.
CM: So you go to the third quarter and nobody’s scored. And so, then what was the play that came in?
SI: Oh, Maui High punted. So I was the back. Well, I was not actually trained to catch these damn things. So that thing went right through my arms.
CM: You mean, it came down?
SI: That’s right. And I fumbled it.
CM: And then, what happened?
SI: They recovered the ball, and so many plays later, they scored. And that score stood because there were no other scores. We had a pretty good line, but. . . .
CM: What did you teammates say after that?
SI: Well, they didn’t talk to me for a while.
CM: They blamed it on you?
SI: Everybody, I suppose, blamed it on me.
CM: Did you have a girlfriend back them?
SI: No.
CM: Then you mentioned the principal. . . .
SI: The teacher. She was an old lady.
CM: No, well, who was the manager?
SI: Principal was. . . . Wait a minute, it come to me later. This guy happened to go to Harvard University and in 1917, this fellow, Atherton Gilman, who used to. . . . He was named Van Camp’s All-American in 1917. And they played under coach Percy Haughton of Harvard. Percy Haughton of Harvard was quite a coach, those days, especially in the old days when the big three was Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, you know. Alton Rogers, Alton Rogers.
CM: He was the . . .
SI: A-L-T-O-N Rogers. He was the principal. And he played alongside this All-American from Hawai‘i by the name of Atherton Gilman.
CM: So he was . . .
SI: He was principal, head football man over the coach, he was everything.
CM: What did he say to you after you. . . .
SI: He just wouldn’t talk to me, snubbed me. I felt so bad about the whole thing. I couldn’t take it too long. Well, after couple of months, I left. I still remember the date, January 25, 1925.
CM: Why did you leave?
SI: I had to leave. I had to leave. I couldn’t live around there.
CM: Just because of that football game?
SI: Self-conscious. You know how kids are.
CM: Anybody try to keep you there?
SI: No.
CM: You just went on your own . . .
SI: No.
CM: . . . back on the boat and left?
SI: I had another guy I was running around with, the sheriff’s son, Jackie Crowell. The sheriff name was Sheriff Crowell, those days.
CM: How do you spell that?
SI: C-R-O-W-E-L-L. His son Jackie was my classmate. We were very close friends, so after I left school I stayed with him in the family homestead.
(Taping stops, then resumes.)
CM: We were talking about the end of your school days, your distinguished educational career. (Chuckles) What did you do after you decided school wasn’t for you anymore?
SI: Well, like I said, you know, insofar as farming and following the vocation of my father was concerned, I’ve had it. Because my two brothers had gone away to the Mainland and were residing in California, I thought I wanted, you know, get out of the agriculture business, whatever my father’s vocation was. I didn’t want to become a farmer, that’s for sure. So, I went out to look for a job in 1925. But because I was so small, my stature, I would go to stevedore down the waterfront and these people would hire. They hired me for a few times, but it’s not for. . . . It’s only when you have to pick up cement, take out cement or others things, things of that nature, where it was nothing popular with them, see? Otherwise, they would look right through me or over me and pick the ones that they want to because in those days, the stevedore foremen used to get a kickback. But I didn’t know anything about those things.
CM: It wasn’t because of your size?
SI: Well, mostly it was by size because I was so small, eh? I only weighed about 115 pounds.
CM: So you were competing against these big guys?
SI: Yeah, big guys. They were big. And then, I did work a few times in different places, but never too long. I worked on the Wai‘anae stretch, between Wai‘anae--junction of Wai‘anae Road and ‘Ewa. From that junction on to Ma‘ili. But I worked only till Nanakuli. I worked on the Nanakuli stretch.
CM: What did you do?
SI: We used to lay the number three over the (rocks).
CM: What does that mean?
SI: You see, that’s the macadamized road. At that time, the contractor was Link McCandless. Link, L-I-N-K McCandless. And they would first grade the land, and they would put rocks,
good-sized rocks, on the road. And then, they would spread the number three, which is the smaller sized rock, gravel, over it. And then, they rolled it and make it firm. And then, they would put the asphalt. See, it’s not concrete, it’s asphalt stretch.
CM: Asphalt. And what did you do?
SI: Pick and shovel. Pick and shovel and, oh, various things. I held the job for about six months. That’s the longest I’ve had, I worked on the job.
CM: What was the pay?
SI: Pay was minimum.
CM: Which was?
SI: I don’t know. Must have been about thirty cents or thirty-five cents an hour.
CM: Was it hot?
SI: I don’t remember how much it was. It wasn’t real hot. But not--it seems that it’s getting hotter these days.
CM: But you were eighteen then, huh?
SI: Oh, I was little older than that then. That stretch came later. Let’s see, now, that was about . . .
CM: Let’s go back to when you were about eighteen.
SI: Eighteen. Seventeen, eighteen. Before that, I used to work now and then, I used to go down the wharves. Nothing to do, so I used to hang around Bethel Street with the boys.
CM: How did you dress?
SI: I dressed on ordinary shoes with just two piece, shirts and trousers. Then I used to go to the (Central) YMCA. I was not a paid member of the Y, but I used to go to the lobby (to read) and I used to watch people swim. And every now and then I would get a pass because every now and then I would get a job setting pins in the old bowling alley, old Central YMCA on Alakea and Hotel Street. That was the site of the old YMCA. That’s how I got to use the track, too. They had a track and they had a boxing gym without any ring, you know. They used to have . . .
CM: Despite your football career, you still had the urge to be around athletes . . .
SI: Yeah. Then I used to hang out. And every day, I would go to this Sato Gym. Sato, S-A-T-O Gym. The owner was the guy by the name of Jim Sato. He was the manager of K.O. Kuratsu. K-U-R-A-T-S-U, who was an outstanding flyweight. But prior to that, we were in bootleg boxing, those days.
CM: When you were hanging around Bethel Street, what were you guys doing?
SI: Just hang around, go around here and there.
CM: Were you drinking, gambling, what . . .
SI: No, I never did drink. Never did gamble, too.
CM: What do you mean, you never did drink?
SI: Never did drink, not booze. I never touched liquor until about (1933)ˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
CM: Oh, okay. I was going to say . . .
SI: I’m talking about booze. No, I was one of those guys that believed in training, see. Then in 1928 after all the little jobs, at once, I got a job on the S.S. Ambassador. And this was a small freighter, something like a tugboat, small freighter that took freight to Hanalei and Nawiliwili on the island of Kaua‘i. But after one trip, they let me go because I was too small. The rest were the huge Hawaiians. The Hawaiian guy would sit down on the whaleboat, the small tugboat would stay off port, and then these guys would row in. We would row in to the harbor, to the pier, and unload. Then we’d come back. But it was too much. I had a hell of a time tackling that oar. Couldn’t handle the oar; the oar was too big.
CM: But during this time, you were health conscious. You were trying to stay in shape and you were . . .
SI: Always was in shape, you know, as much as I could. Because I would go to the YMCA, you know.
CM: So, what did you do when you were hanging out? Did you guys play pool or what or . . .
SI: Play pool, pool was expensive. You got to have money. We would go to different places. Only at night, we would hang out for a while, then we go home. Not like these all-night deals, go parties and all that, no.
CM: So, you sort of hanging around the . . .
SI: You see, these kids who would hang out, lot of ’em would be working people, too. But they could go all around, anywhere they want to, because they had money. And, you know, they had friends, they could go places, but not us.
CM: What was Downtown Honolulu like back then?
SI: Well, Downtown Honolulu was very busy. It’s not like today because Waikiki was not really Waikiki. It was really a one-horse town. But Downtown was busy because, chee, the soldiers, when they get paid--soldiers, sailors--they all go Downtown. You know, all be in town. It was very busy. But today, it’s altogether different. And it was much more picturesque than what it is today. Probably it’d be better (chuckles) later on after they fix up the city, butˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
CM: Let’s see, you hung around the YMCA boxing gym or what . . .
SI: YMCA gym, the lobby. I used to watch them swim. Then . . .
CM: When did you first get interested in the boxing end?
SI: Well, I used to live with couple of the boys who were interested in boxing themselves during the bootleg days. So I used to go with them.
CM: Who were they?
SI: I had a friend by the name of Kid Hands. His nickname was Kid Hands. He had powerful hands.
CM: Where did you guys live?
SI: Apartment. I mean, rooming house.
CM: Where?
SI: Oh, little off of Kukui Street.
CM: And you had three guys living in . . .
SI: Oh, at times, we had about six guys. All depends what time of the day.
CM: And so, Kid Hands fought in these bootleg fights?
SI: Yes. He fought in bootleg fights . . .
CM: And where were these fights held?
SI: They were held in the old Hausten Arena or Mo‘ili‘ili Stadium or whoever sponsored the show. Because there were no promoters then. The sponsors for the . . .
CM: Were they illegal?
SI: Illegal. Of course, nobody . . .
CM: What would happen?
SI: Everybody. . . . When you really come down to it, it was illegal. Then in ’29, boxing was legalized, you know.
CM: But it was done in the open? The fights were done in the open?
SI: Yeah, but you see, it was done in the open. I don’t know how they manipulated around that. There was no commission.
CM: The cops didn’t care?
SI: It seemed that way. None of them were stopped, as far as I can remember.
CM: Do you remember a fight involving Kid Hands? A particular fight?
SI: He only had couple of fights that I know of. But the others . . .
CM: Did they wear gloves or were they bare fisted?
SI: Oh, yeah. All gloves. All yeah, real gloves. They used to fight in the old O‘ahu Theater. They used to be on Maunakea Street. But the big one was at Hausten Arena. What they call the Hausten Arena, presently the Kapalama district, where the Kapalama Drainage Canal is, the river, Kapalama.
CM: What was that one?
SI: Hausten Arena, they called it.
CM: So what fight was big there?
SI: In the early. . . . When it became legalized, that was the place. That and the stadium.
CM: Let’s talk about the bootleg fights.
SI: Bootleg. Old Mo‘ili‘ili--there was an old field adjacent to Liliha Street. Then O‘ahu Theater. And the stadium.
CM: And how many people would turn out?
SI: Oh, they’d be couple of thousand.
CM: Really?
SI: Yeah.
CM: Were they mostly Filipino . . .
SI: Couple of thousand. Huh?
CM: Mostly Filipino or were they . . .
SI: Were mostly Filipino. Well, you see all nationalities, too. I would not say mostly Filipinos. All mixed.
CM: And who were the fighters? What were they?
SI: Fighters were--they were not bad fighters.
CM: Haoles or . . .
SI: They all mixed.
CM: Did they have weight classes or did they . . .
SI: Let’s see. Alky Dawson was. . . . Yeah, Alky Dawson, he fought in one of those bootleg fights at the . . .
CM: What’s his name?
SI: . . . Honolulu Armory. Alky, A-L-K-Y. Dawson, D-A-W-S-O-N. He was one of the leading fighters.
CM: How much did they get paid?
SI: Chee, hard to say. They didn’t get paid too much.
CM: Did you bet on these guys?
SI: No. I had no money for that. I just was one of those guys who hung around them.
CM: Were you like a trainer or something?
SI: No, no. I just hung around them. But in the gym, I used to help them. You know, run around, help them. Things of that nature, until I got used to.
CM: What kind of things did you do?
SI: Hold the bag. Clean up the gym for ’em, you know? Probably massage. At times, handyman. But as I got to know more of the fighters and I got more involved, then by that time, was all right. I got a job. I got a say. One morning this fellow come up to me, this fellow by the name of Rufus Nobriga. N-O-B-R-I-G-A. In 1928, offered me a job as an office boy and to act as a shipping clerk at H.S. Gray (Company) on Queen Street near Fort Street.
CM: H.S. Gray?
SI: H.S. Gray, G-R-A-Y. And the old man, Harry Gray, was a nice Scotchman, Scot.
CM: How did he happen to pick you?
SI: Well, he probably seen me around and he gave me a job.
CM: Well, what did you do?
SI: And that was the start of me, you know. Quit hanging around the streets. From there, I used to go to the gym.
CM: What did you do for H.S. Gray?
SI: Oh, I would get the mail, post the mail, pick up the mail. And then, I would ship all the mill supplies to the different plantations. See, he was a brokerage firm. And he’d import all the things that the sugar mills would want, and then we would store it in the store. And that place had second floor, too. And I bring it down, and I had to make the different inter-island ships, ship it accordingly.
CM: But where did he run into you?
SI: On Bethel Street.
CM: And you were just hanging out?
SI: I was just hanging out.
CM: And he said, “Hey, here’s this job here” . . .
SI: Yeah.
CM: He thought you were . . .
SI: He thought he’d give me a break, so. I didn’t know him, but he turned out to be quite a guy.
CM: How did you approach you?
SI: He asked me . . .
CM: I mean, you were sort of just standing on the street?
SI: Yeah. Most likely I was with couple of guys, I suppose. He saw me.
CM: So this Haole guy just comes up and . . .
SI: Portuguese fellow. He was a bookkeeper. And he came to see me. Yeah. And after that (chuckles) became, chee, we became good friends. (Laughs)
CM: What were some of the things you guys did?
SI: What?
CM: You were talking about Rufus, right?
SI: Rufus.
CM: What were some of the things you folks did?
SI: Rufus Nobriga was the unofficial bootlegger for all the top office bosses in that part of Honolulu. Honolulu upper, sugar--that was involved with sugar. Sugar, like C. Brewer, American Factors, and (Honolulu) Gas (Company). He knew the managers and practically all the bosses.
CM: Where did he get his . . .
SI: He would sell his ‘okolehao.
END OF SIDE ONE
SIDE TWO
SI: He would get friends to, you know, give him, sell him the ‘okolehao. Then he would . . .
CM: What is ‘okolehao?
SI: Whiskey. It’s Hawaiian oke.
CM: How do you spell it?
SI: Oke is O-K-E. ‘Okolehao is O-K-E-L-A-H-O-U, ‘okolehao, H-A-U.
CM: This was a homemade whiskey?
SI: Yeah, homemade Hawaiian whiskey.
CM: Who made it?
SI: The local people.
CM: And then, Rufus would go and get it? You and Rufus would go and pick it up?
SI: No, he won’t get it. They delivered to him, and then he would, you know, give it to me. And then, he’d tell me where to deliver it, and I delivered for him.
CM: So basically, they picked you up off the street and turned you into sort of a bootlegger . . .
SI: Runner.
CM: Runner? (Chuckles)
SI: No, only the latter part of my. . . . After couple of years, yeah. Because the guy who was doing, it seems, had worked before me, see. But he didn’t use me until the latter part.
CM: Till you had worked for H.S. Gray for a while?
SI: Yeah. Until 1940.
CM: How did that stuff taste?
SI: ‘Okolehao was good. It's good whiskey. Later on, I tasted ‘okolehao.
CM: You didn’t drink it much at that time?
SI: No. You see, the good ‘okolehao is in the barrel, and you get the charred sticks, charcoal sticks, you know. It’s really smooth. Really expensive.
CM: So how did you deliver it? What did you do?
SI: I just take it with me, deliver it.
CM: Bottles?
SI: Bottles in a handbag or something.
CM: You got to hide it?
SI: No. Nobody would know what I’m carrying.
CM: I mean, was it pretty open back there? Police didn’t care aboutˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
SI: No, they didn’t know what the hell going on anyway. No. They would knock over stills, you know. During those days, they used to knock over--the T-men, the treasury department people would knock ’em off.
CM: You never got bothered?
SI: No, because I never did run the still. I just delivered the things that, you know. . . . Delivered these bottles, the gallons, to where somebody would order, some big shot.
CM: These were gallon bottles?
SI: Yeah, all gallons.
CM: And who were some of the big shots you were delivering to?
SI: Gas company. I know I went to gas company, C.Brewer, A&B-- Alexander & Baldwin.
CM: You go right up into their offices?
SI: Yeah. They gave me the name and, well, you know . . .
CM: Remember any of the names?
SI: Offhand, I don’t now. Too far, too long ago. And I was not familiar with them, anyway.
CM: These were some of the bigger people in town, then?
SI: Oh, in town at that time. Not exactly bigger people. Not the real rich. The guys in the office. They the guys who working for the big rich.
CM: And how much would it cost for a gallon of that?
SI: Chee. You know a funny thing? I never did find out, actually. He must have got pretty good money.
CM: You didn’t handle the money for him?
SI: No, I didn’t handle the money. Never did handle the money because he always did that. All what I did was deliver it. But it was really something. I used to get a kick out of that. (Chuckles) He would joke to me all the time.
CM: What would he say?
SI: He say, “Oh, what? How did the guy take it?” You know, “What did he say?” This and that.
"Nothing.” He hasn’t said anything. Just say, “Thank you,” that’s all.
CM: What did Rufus look like?
SI: He was about your height, size, only little more pudgy. Gee, he died already. He must have died long ago. (About fifteen years ago.)
CM: What was his actual job?
SI: Bookkeeper.
CM: For H.S. Gray?
SI: Yeah, he was the number one man.
CM: And then, he just did the booze on the side?
SI: Yeah, yeah, booze, the side.
CM: Were those good times back then?
SI: Well, for them it was good times but not for me.
CM: You still weren’t making much money?
SI: I was making, from sixty dollars, came up to hundred dollars a month. That’s all.
CM: How much was the boarding house?
SI: The boarding house, we were chipping in, you know.
CM: Do you remember what you guys were paying?
SI: I don’t know. Chee. Don’t know now.
CM: Did you get room and board for that?
SI: And then, at that time, 1928, I was not even managing fighters. That’s when I had my. . . . No, I didn’t even have my amateur fight. I was going to the gym, YMCA, and then the Sato’s gym. So, we were in training. I used to hit the road. Get up about five o’clock in the morning, I hit the road. Go up Punchbowl and Tantalus. Run up to Tantalus and come back, take a shower, go to work. Have something to eat and go to work. And in the afternoon, we go to the gym.
CM: You were hoping to become what, an amateur fighter at that time?
SI: No, handler. At that time, in the beginning, amateur fighter.
CM: But you were working out to become a fighter, right?
SI: Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s right.
CM: You did all the road work and all that?
SI: Yeah, that’s right. I kept it up for three years. Even after I quit.
CM: When did you have your first fight?
SI: Nineteen. . . . Shucks, must have been about ’29. Nineteen twenty-nine, I think.
CM: Who set it up for you?
SI: The AAU [Amateur Athletic Union]. The AAU conducted all the fights, amateur. The AAU conducted. I had one fight and that was finished. So, I had to. . . . But I was so wrapped up in boxingˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
CM: How long did you train for that one fight?
SI: Oh, must have trained about four, five months.
CM: And you sparred and everything?
SI: But I didn’t have natural talent, you know. I was not cut out to be an athlete.
CM: Tell me about the fight. Where was it and . . .
SI: Oh, the fight? The fight was held at the Honolulu Stadium. The ring was set up toward the makai corner. Makai-‘Ewa corner. I don’t know what kind of guy he was. He was kinda Spanish, kinda extraction, he was.
CM: What was your weight class?
SI: Flyweight. I was only a flyweight.
CM: And were you nervous?
SI: Well, nervous, but not too nervous. Just going through the motions.
CM: And this would be a three-round fight?
SI: Yeah, all amateur. Three-round fight, two-minute rounds.
CM: Okay, so the bell rings and what happens?
SI: We go for broke. Go for broke. Couldn’t hit the guy. The guy was pretty good, but jumping all over the goddamned place.
CM: Was he scoring against you?
SI: Not exactly. We were holding about even. We were about even. But the guy was jumping, it seemed to me. And that’s the only reason I threw that uppercut, went for the body shot.
CM: And what happened?
SI: Hit him right in the cup, bent the cup.
CM: (Chuckles) What did he do?
SI: (Chuckles) Collapsed. He collapsed. Afterwards, he came down to my dressing room and told me, he came to see me. He said (chuckles), “Look at the cup.” He said, “You smashed the cup.”
CM: (Laughs) And so, what round was that?
SI: Oh, was couple of---I think was the second round.
CM: And so, you lost on a foul, huh?
SI: Yeah, I lost on a foul. And that was the end of my career. So I was the loser all the way in anything.
CM: Why was it the end there? Why did you give up at that point?
SI: No amateur. Well, there wasn’t any amateur fights around anyway. I got enough. I was more interested in handling fighters, actually.
CM: Especially after that, huh?
SI: I got through training because I liked boxing. I liked to get near the professional athletes. That was the thing. I was just bugs over boxing, the athlete. I somehow liked sports.
CM: How’d you feel after that fight?
SI: At that time, I didn’t feel too good. But later on, I felt all right. You know, I liked boxing itself as a sport and I liked to be near them. Because the Filipino fighters who were going to the Garden, Madison Square Garden, or San Francisco, or Los Angeles, were coming through, all of them. And I used to meet all the great fighters. There were some good ones.
CM: What was your chief place of operations? Sato’s at that point?
SI: At that time, was Sato Gym. Sato Gym.
CM: And what were you doing around Sato’s at that point? You were still . . .
SI: I was around with . . .
CM: . . . working at H.S. Gray?
SI: Yeah, that’s right.
CM: And then, you’d go up at Sato’s?
SI: I worked at the H.S. Gray till 1940. Then in 1931, I became a manager of a boxer by the name of Frederico Marino. I changed his name to Freddie Gomez. He was of Italian and Mexican descent.
CM: And how did you happen to meet him?
SI: They brought him to me, to the--and then . . .
CM: Who bought him?
SI: One of my friends brought him to me.
CM: How did he get to Hawai‘i?
SI: He came here as a stowaway on the Mariposa. I believe it was the maiden voyage of the Mariposa. As a stowaway. He came down as a stowaway. They nabbed him and he got locked up.
CM: In jail here?
SI: In jail here. And then, they got him out. When he came out, they brought him to me. They say, “Hey.” That’s how I got interested in managing fighters.
CM: Was he a fighter?
SI: He was a professional fighter in Los Angeles.
CM: And he just stowed away, he wanted to come to Hawai‘i?
SI: Under Frederico Marino, his legal name.
CM: Why did he want to come to Hawai‘i?
SI: He just wanted to come to Hawai‘i, I suppose. And he did well here. I believe he won his first nine fights here.
CM: So what did you do for him?
SI: He became the number one lightweight in Hawai‘i. Territory of Hawai‘i at that time.
The following are excerpts of his interview
SI: Oh, but I was living in heaven because, you know, it’s just what I wanted. For once in my life, I was on a winning side in sports. I was not losing. It’s funny thing. When I turned manager, my fighters did not lose a fight until about, oh, twelve, thirteen months, you know. Somebody said, at one time told me that fifteen months, my fighters did not lose. And I had acquired, in the meantime, I acquired other fighters
SI: The fights would be on weekends, or Friday night, or Tuesday night. But we didn’t have fights too often. You see, during those years, Hawai‘i had bad years, too. On the Mainland, you had the crash of ’29, right? Oh, they were in bad shape. But it did not hit Hawai‘i right away. I’d say, in about ’32, ’33, we had our CCC, you know. Civil[ian] Conservation Corps. You know, CCC and all that. And the government projects to help the unemployed, see. So we didn’t have too big a crowd at the fights. But what we needed was new faces, you know. Of course, the good Filipino fighters used to pass through.
SI: Oh, before I went to the Nationals in 1940. And so, in 1934 I opened up, I started an amateur boxing club. Those days, I wanted to get these local Japanese kids going. I called it Japanese American Boxing Club. Japanese American Athletic Club, rather. I had other people help me. But it was not the kind of a club where you pay dues and all that bit. It was up to me to raise the money. I had to raise the money to buy the equipment. And the first year in 1934 I had about thirty-three to thirty-five amateur fighters. And every one, every kid, was fitted, head to foot. I raised it. You know how? I put on dances. Weekend dances at the Honolulu Armory, Palama Settlement Gym, or the Outrigger Canoe Club, and the Ala Wai Golf Course. They have a club there. One night, I put on two dances. On a Saturday I had my amateur boxing team go to Kahuku for the dual meet, inter-club meet, and at the same time on a Saturday night, I had a dance in Outrigger Canoe Club and Wai‘alae Golf Club.
CM: Did you have a girlfriend or were you . . .
SI: No, I had a girlfriend here, my wife. I met her in about 1928.
CM: Yeah, we sort of skipped over that.
SI: Yeah.
CM: Tell me about how you met your wife.
SI: She was a barber.
CM: A barber?
SI: Yeah, a barber.
CM: Where at?
SI: On (Bethel) Street. That’s where I used to hang out.
CM: At the where?
SI: One of the barbershops on (Bethel) Street. And she lived on School Street with the owners. She used to live with the owners because original, she’s from the island of Hawai‘i, ‘Ola‘a, Hawai‘i.
CM: ‘Ola‘a?
SI: O-L-A-A. O-L-A-A.
CM: Did she cut your hair?
SI: Yeah, she cut my hair. But I didn’t cut my hair often.
CM: So what did she think of you?
SI: I guess she took me just very cheaply at first because I used to hang around the street. Then it improved when I got a job. And I got married in (1933). [Nineteen] thirty-three, rather. Nineteen thirty-three, I got married. (June 25, 1933.)
CM: So when the rest of the country was going down the tubes, you were having your best years.
SI: Yeah, just about.
CM: Did you chase her or was she . . .
SI: No. We got married Shinto style. Shinto style in a Shinto shrine.
CM: Where at?
SI: Corner of Beretania and King Street. King Street come this way. Beretania come this way. You know, where they joined there was a temple. Not there anymore. There used to be a Shinto temple there. And the Reverend Miyao.
CM: Tell me about how you proposed.
SI: Well, just said just like to get married.
CM: Where, at the barbershop? Where were you?
SI: No, no, no. No.
CM: Where was it?
SI: I used to have a cottage on Fort Street way up. It’s not there anymore. Old Pali Highway. It’s Old Pali Highway now. We used to have a cottage there. And my fighter used to live with us. With me, anyway, I wasn’t married. And she used to come over . . .
CM: Your father was living with you then?
SI: No, no, no.
CM: Who was?
SI: My father was not living with me.
CM: Who was living with you?
SI: My fighter.
CM: Oh, your fighter, you said.
SI: My fighter, Freddie Gomez. He was living with me. And I had other kids, friends, living with me. You know, we had about three, four. There was always about four, five guys in a cottage living with me.
CM: And so, your wife would . . .
SI: Yeah, visit me.
CM: Your wife would come up and do what?
SI: I tell, “You better get"---"We better get"---"Let’s go get married.”
CM: Did she cook for you guys?
SI: No. She was not a cook.
CM: What was your courtship like?
SI: Well, the courtship was very good. I used to take her to movies, Japanese movies. Because she was speaking Japanese, mostly.
CM: And you still spoke Japanese?
SI: Yeah, I spoke and understood Japanese.
CM: And where was it that you proposed? Up at the house, the cottage?
SI: Yeah, proposed. I believe so. Unless when I took her out on my friend’s car. One day, I must have proposed then.
CM: And she agreed at once?
SI: She agreed.
CM: Did you have any doubts?
SI: No, I was very confident. By that time, I built my stature so that I became marketable.
CM: Well, you met in 1928 and you knew her well by ’33.
SI: Yeah. Oh, yeah.
CM: So you had five years of getting to know each other.
SI: That’s right. And all the time, my image was improving, so. From a bum, you know, . . .
CM: Did she notice that?
SI: . . . to a worker, so it’s all right. Well, some of them would be opposed, but what the hell. They were nothing.
CM: But did she know that you were . . .
SI: They were nothing. They didn’t mean anything. The people who opposed didn’t mean anything. So she got smart. Once in her life she got smart and married me. (Chuckles)
CM: Who came to the wedding?
SI: Oh, no one. Only the best man, that’s all.
CM: You mean, your father didn’t come?
SI: No, my father couldn’t come.
CM: How come?
SI: Well, he didn’t know about it.
CM: Why?
SI: Not too many people knew about it until afterwards.
CM: Why?
SI: But at the wedding reception. We had a wedding reception at my home. I was living at a place adjacent to Fort Street, Leilehua Avenue. Leilehua, yeah. And there was a promoter here, wrestling promoter by the name of Ed Rach. He was the first wrestling promoter in Hawai‘i.
CM: Rach?
SI: Ed Rach. And his wife . . .
CM: How do you spell it?
SI: R-A-C-H. Ed Rach. And, you know, I used to go to the Civic Auditorium. That’s before Al Karasick became wrestling promoter. And Ed Rach used to tell me, “Come down and watch the wrestling.”
I told, “Oh, yeah. I’ll come if I can make it.”
You know. I always took excuse because I didn’t go for wrestling. And those days, it was not a hippodrome like what it is today. And if you had a stranglehold on the guy, he got gone. Nothing happens in the wrestling match until the guy gives up. Actually, when you get a real hold on the guy, he’s gone. You know, it’s just like you’re applying a knockout punch. That’s old Strangler Louis.
CM: What does this have to do with your wedding reception?
SI: His wife was a Metropolitan Opera singer, tenor. Mrs. Rach sang at the reception. (Laughs) Yeah, was terrific. And the same night, we got robbed. The guys came over the window.
CM: Who did?
SI: Robber.
CM: Burglar?
SI: Burglar entered our cottage. Didn’t take much because I didn’t have anything in there.
CM: You’re talking about two different places, yeah? You lived in a cottage . . .
SI: I moved from Fort Street. Then to Leilehua Street. And that’s where the reception was held. But I was married at the Shinto church on Beretania and King.
CM: So while you were at the reception, somebody was burglarizing your house?
SI: No. That night, when we slept, the house was burglarized.
CM: Somebody broke in and took some . . .
SI: That’s right.
CM: On your honeymoon night?
SI: Yeah, that’s right.
CM: What’d they take?
SI: Nothing much to take. We just missed a few pieces, that’s all.
CM: Like what?
SI: We didn’t have anything. We missed something, her personal belongings, few things. But nothing . . .
CM: How come you didn’t tell people that you were getting married? Why didn’t you tell your father?
SI: Well, I didn’t want to say anything, those days. I couldn’t afford to put any kind of a reception, anyway. Anything big.
CM: So your brothers and sisters didn’t come?
SI: No. Just my close friends came that night of the reception.
CM: Didn’t your dad get mad when he found out?
SI: No, he didn’t.
CM: How come? You guys weren’t a very . . .
SI: No, I did not go too often, anyway. You know, I was too busy. And he had too many problems, himself.
CM: Like what?
SI: Well, you know, farming is not an easy venture. Oh, my God. Soˇ.ˇ.ˇ.
CM: But do you regret that now?
SI: No. Well, leaving the farm?
CM: Yeah. You know, just sort of leaving your father and not . . .
SI: Well, he had the other kids with him.
CM: Did you have a grudge against him?
SI: No, no. I got along all right with Father. I had nothing against Father and he had nothing against me.
CM: So you got married and at this time . . .
SI: This was 1933, see.
CM: Was Freddie Gomez still with you?
SI: Yes. Freddie Gomez was with me.
CM: Was he living in the house with you?
SI: No. He had married, himself. He had married, himself, and he was living on his own. He was on his own.
SI: He’s the guy that used to be very. . . . He used to know my sister very well. You know, my sister--my mother died from tuberculosis, but because of her age, she breast-fed her. She was fed breast. Naturally, TB. She must have got a touch of TB herself. And then, she was dropped by some member of our family when she was real young, probably one year old or something like that. And she developed osteomyelitis. You know this back? Hunchback. And she spent years and years in the Shriner Hospital. She went though about four major surgery. And she got over it. So, actually, she only had about three, four months of education, you know. She was self-educated. She was a cripple, you know. And she used to work for Rev. Hunt. You heard of Rev. Hunt? He was the first Occidental Buddhist. Island Paradise School kindergarten, he was the founder. He founded the sect, part of the Buddhist religion here in Hawai‘i. She used to be his right-hand man.
SI: Yes. Nineteen forty, it changed, after I came back. Immediately after I got back, I went to work. But in the meantime, my twin brother and I, we discussed the problem of what I intend to do later. Because I had received an offer to bring some fighters to Japan to commemorate the founding of the Japanese empire, Japan. Twenty-six hundred. In other words, celebration of the founding of Japan, 2,600 year anniversary of founding of Japan, 1940. And the premier of Japan at that time was Prince Konoye. He was well known. His son was a captain of the golf team, Princeton University. He was well known in Hawai‘i because his friend, very good friend, was Francis Brown of the Ii estate. Francis Brown was the number one golfer in Hawai‘i at that time. So, anyway, it was not a matter of choice for me at that time. You see, my fighters were all from poor families. They had no money. Naturally, whatever trip they can earn, you know, that they can get, would be something like bonus for them. So, I had no choice but to ask my boss for a leave of absence again. The boss, naturally, he was stuck. So he refused to give me the leave. So I had to quit. I had quit to make the trip.
So when I quit, in the meantime, my twin brother and I, we discussed my problem. And he said, “Look, you might as well make something out of this. Why don’t you go run for political office?” You know, ever since I quit school, one thing I did not neglect was in reading the different subjects, except the subjects that I could not cope with. Naturally, high math or anything really scientific or biological, things of that nature. But insofar as other things are concerned, I was pretty up to it, you know, because I read a lot. We didn’t need to read. I kept reading all the time. I knew what the hell was going on throughout the whole world.
CM: What was your brother referring to when he said, “You might as well make something of this"? Make something of what? Your . . .
SI: My future.
CM: No, but were you fairly well known then by that point?
SI: I was very well known because I was in professional boxing as well as amateur boxing. And the press used to take very good care of me. Well, by ’34, I was already drinking. By the time I got married, I was drinking. Not too much, I couldn’t drink--I didn’t want to drink too much because was interfering with my work if I go overboard. But when I had dealt with the press, naturally, you got to drink. You got to drink with ’em. We’d go out for dinner.
CM: [This is an interview with Sam] Ichinose at his house in Kaimuki. It is Saturday, August 15, 1987.
Okay, let’s go back to when you were born and a little bit about your father and mother.
SI: You want to start from the beginning?
CM: Yeah, when were you born?
SI: Yeah, well, I was born on November the 12th, 1907. And I was born a twin. We were named---because we were born close to New Year’s, the Japanese usually have sort of a holiday, I guess, like other nationalities, on New Year’s. And it’s a special event, so one of us named after the pine which is matsuin Japanese. And he was named “bamboo,” means take. So, more or less, but they put the “o” to give it more significance. In other words, mine should have been named “Matsuo” instead of “Matsu.” But in writing it out in English, they made a mistake, I suppose. So I was named “Matsu,” and he was named “Takeo.” I was the pine and he was the bamboo. And during the New Year’s season, every home, Japanese home, has this bamboo and pine at the door, you know, tied together. Sort of a--something like you would put a holly on Christmas time. Something like that.
CM: Where were you born?
SI: I was born in Mo‘ili‘ili, upper area of Mo‘ili‘ili, the Kapa‘akea area, which is presently the quarry area and dormitory area of the present-day University of Hawai‘i campus. And I come from a big family of ten children.
CM: Why don’t you run through the names of your brothers and sisters.
SI: Yes. (Pause) My eldest, the number one, is the eldest sister, Osamu. Osamu Honda, H-O-N-D-A. Married to Mr. Honda. She’s deceased. Number two, James Koichi, K-O-I-C-H-I. Number three, William Nobuichi, N-O-B-U-I-C-H-I. Number four is Michael Makoto, M-A-K-O-T-O. Then we come in, the twins. Eugene and I, Sam. Then seven would be Kenneth. Kenneth Iwao, I-W-A-O. Eight, Dan. Daniel Kikuo, K-I-K-U-O. Ninth would be Reginald Kirio, K-I-R-I-O. Then the tenth, Takiko, T-A-K-I-K-O.
After my mother died . . .
CM: Before we go to that, let’s talk about how your mother and father ended up coming to Hawai‘i.
SI: Oh, yes. My father Yoshigoro Ichinose, he was twenty-five years and six months old, and my mother Tomi Ichinose was nineteen years and ten months. And the daughter, the child, Osamu, one year and five months old. They arrived in Honolulu on October 24th, 1899 on the steamer Carlisle City, C-A-R-L-I-S-L-E C-I-T-Y, from Yokohama, Japan. My father, Yoshigoro, was a farmer by trade. And he contracted with the sugar people. I don’t know whether it was the HSPA [Hawaiian Sugar Planters’ Association] at that time, but he was contracted to work on the sugar plantations in Hawai‘i. And some time later, during the great typhoid fever epidemic at the plantation . . .
CM: In ‘Aiea?
SI: In ‘Aiea. My father, with the wife, and the child on his back, fled the sugar plantation and eventually settled in the Kapa‘akea, K-A-P-A-A-K-E-A, Kapa‘akea district, which is situated mauka of the old Mo‘ili‘ili quarry, or within the Mo‘ili‘ili quarry area. Presently, that area is part of the University of Hawai‘i complex, athletic and dormitory. Now. . . . (Pause) Yes, Father and Mother raised us, eight boys and two girls at the farm. At that time, Father raised pigs. He had considerable number of pigs. He would raise the piglets and fatten them up and sell it to the slaughterhouse.
CM: Can you describe a little bit about what your life as a kid was like helping your dad raising the pigs and. . . .
SI: Yes, well, beside raising the pigs, we raised the vegetables, and of course, we had chicken. But it was a lot of work farming. Especially at that time, it was work that involved--I mean, a vocation that involved work from morning till night. And Father would go out every day to collect the swill or garbage to the residential and Downtown area. He probably leave about five thirty or six o’clock in the morning and come back about, oh, ten o’clock in the morning.
CM: What would he take? How would he travel?
SI: He would travel by a horse and a wagon. Naturally, the containers would be probably twenty-five-gallon containers, which he would deposit with the restaurants. And he would get five-gallon cans, kerosene cans, and then he would place these in various homes or residence. And at times, one of us, one of the boys, during the weekends, we always go with him to help him in collecting the garbage.
See, that is only part of the work because when we had a lot of vegetables and when it was available, you know, vegetables spoil, so we had to get up early in the morning and pull the vegetables, wash ’em clean, grate it, and tie it up, and sell it in the morning before we go to school. And that was principally the job of me and my twin brother for a period of about five, six months. That doesn’t mean that it was everyday work, but it was work while it was available until we were about twelve years of age. And of course, we didn’t have any wagon. The only method we had was to place this tied-up vegetables in a basket, huge basket. And we would carry it on our shoulders with a long bow or pole.
CM: You’d have a big pole and the basket was suspended in the middle, and each of you . . .
SI: That’s right.
CM: . . . one side?
SI: And he probably would go in front or I would go in front, depending on . . .
CM: And how far did you have to walk with that?
SI: Yeah. We’d have to go from the quarry area to the village below, Mo‘ili‘ili Village. But we did not cross King Street. In other words, we didn’t have time to cover a large area because we had to go to school. But after we did, we. . . . Everything, we were working against time, so we’d just about time ourselves.
CM: Were you aggressive or were you guys kind of shy?
SI: Well, we were kinda shy. I got to admit that we were kind of shy. In fact, kind of ashamed, too, because we were of that age when, you know, we. . . . And we were not exposed to the public too much.
CM: How much money did you get?
SI: Hoo. It’s hard to say. It wouldn’t be too much money. But we did---it was cash, usually cash, so we brought that back. And then, whatever was not sold that remained, we brought it home for our home use. Now, besides that---no, after we get through selling that, Eugene, myself, and usually Eugene, my twin, would clean up, pick eat, eat whatever we can, and we’d go to school. And after the grammar school in Mo‘ili‘ili, we’d go to the Japanese school in the afternoon. And then, come home and help Father on the farm. Now, when we have time, usually, we help to cook the garbage for the pigs. And of course, we had to cut the honohono grass-- usually, the honohono grass or the pigweed grass and supplement this with the garbage--and then feed the pigs. Of course, during the weekday, I mean, when we had time, we did a lot of work because we had to work in the garden. When we had to handle the pick and shovel, that was real work. We used to wait for the weekends, especially Saturdays and Sundays, because we had use of the horse and the wagon to help with the either selling the vegetables or going into the Ma-noa Valley and cut the necessary amount of grass we needed for our home use.
CM: So it’s a hard life for a kid, huh?
SI: It was a hard life, but . . .
CM: How old were you at the time?
SI: Well, I was about, let’s see, I was nine when my mother died. So we were already working. I must have started working about, oh, must have been about eight years old--eight, seven, eight years. So we kept it up until I got through school with the grammar school, rather. I didn’t do too much work at home after I graduated grammar school because there were other brothers coming up to fill my boots.
CM: Your mother died in what year?
SI: My mother died on November 19th, 1917, of tuberculosis.
CM: And how do you remember that day?
SI: Yes. My sister, Osamu-san, took me to see the funeral procession of Princess Lili‘uokalani--Queen, Queen Lili‘uokalani. And I remember watching the parade on Nu‘uanu Avenue with the Royal Order of Kamehameha and other Hawaiian societies pulling this, what shall we call, the cortege, up Nu‘uanu Street towards the memorial cemetery where the kings and the ali‘is were buried, entombed, rather. We came home. I believe it was that night that my mother passed away.
CM: And she had been sick for quite a while, huh?
SI: Yes, she had been sick. She had been sick for probably, oh, couple of years before my father went into hock and sent her and the eldest--who, of course, was Osamu-san--to Japan where she received treatment but to no avail because . . .
CM: What was her illness?
SI: Because she had tuberculosis. They used to call it the “white plague.” Better known as “white plague” at that time because there was practically no cure for it and the. . . . Anyway . . .
CM: She took a steamer to Japan?
SI: Yes, she took a steamer to Japan.
CM: How long was that trip?
SI: I believe it must have taken, those days, three to four weeks. Then after a few months, she gave up hope and she thought that she’d come back and be with the kids and with the family. She did just that. But like I said, another two, three months, she passed away. But she was very young when she died. She was about thirty-nine years of age. And I guess, bearing ten children took its toll. Because on top of that, it was the hard work of a farmer.
CM: Then, after the elementary school and the Japanese school, you went on to McKinley High School?
SI: Yes, I went to McKinley High School in 1922.
SI: But me, I was out of a job. I said that after I left school, I did work whenever I could find employment. I didn’t feel like going home too often because I didn’t want to face Father because I felt so ashamed that I could not help him. But nevertheless, I didn’t want to become a---but one thing for sure, I did not want to become a farmer. Because I’d been through all of that and having sampled diversified farming, I didn’t want any part of it. And I was looking for something brighter to look forward to.
SI: In 1940, I was out of a job again. I had lost in the political race to a lawyer by the name of Chuck Mau. He beat me about from sixty-five to a hundred votes. Then because I had no other recourse, having a wife and two children, I borrowed money and it was just. . . . I borrowed $500 so that I could start in business. So I approached a friend who was already in business and wanted to retire in an area. . . . It was a very popular eating place, a Japanese restaurant on Hotel and River Streets. The name of the place was Fukuju-tei, F-U-K-U-J-U hyphen T-E-I. T-E-I, Fukuji-tei. A Japanese eating place. And I talked to the boss. He told me, all right, that he’ll be willing to sell it to me because he wanted to retire. I guess he had no inkling that the business was going to pick up because, you know, it was in the wind already that the town was being. . . . The military personnel was coming in and the defense workers were coming in. I mean, the military personnel were increased and the defense workers were coming in. So, I took over the place. Had the liquor license transferred. But . . .
CM: How much did you end up buying it for?
SI: I bought the place for $5,000. Five hundred dollars down, borrowed more money to fix it up.
CM: What did you have in mind to do with it?
SI: Operate a bar. So, November the 28th, 1941, eight days prior to the start of the war, before they hit Pearl Harbor. I opened eight days before they hit Pearl Harbor. I opened up November 28th.
CM: What was the name of it?
SI: I named the place “Sad Sam’s.” Sad Sam’s.
CM: And so, how was business, at least in the first days?
SI: In one week, we had a business for about eight days from November 28th to December the 7th. After December the 7th, martial law took over. So, business, you could not sell any liquor. We could not sell any liquor for a period of about three months. In the meantime, I operated just selling sandwiches or some fast-order stuff and some soft drinks.
CM: What kind of work were you doing? You know, what did you do in the restaurant?
SI: I was a cook in the restaurant, and my wife was helping me. And I had one or two girls who helped me, too.
CM: During the three months of martial law, didn’t you, you know . . .
SI: We had a rough time.
CM: Did you sell booze . . .
SI: We couldn’t.
CM: . . . under the counter?
SI: No, nobody could sell booze.
CM: Really?
SI: Oh, yeah, this town was tighter than a drum because there were MP’s all over the place. And we couldn’t take a chance. Anyway, then liquor control was relaxed so that we could sell liquor, go back to the old way of running the place, except that we couldn’t get enough supply. So, we would operate only till four o’clock. Sell booze till four o’clock in the afternoon. From twelve to four, we sold liquor. Then we closed up. It was optional, strictly optional because. . . . But the streets were teeming with service people, were nothing but white and tan. I would say, from the morning, in the morning from seven o’clock on Hotel Street, you would see even the queues, lines, on the so-called cathouses. Houses of prostitution. The line would be, probably would have about fifty people in line.
CM: Were they legal?
SI: It was legal at that time through the military and the local police authorities.
CM: And you were right down in that area, right? Where . . .
SI: I was right in the hub of that area.
CM: Where was the closest cathouse?
SI: Cathouse was the Senator Hotel which was adjacent to Wo Fat’s on Hotel Street.
CM: Which was how far from your bar?
SI: Oh, not more than, I would say, 300 feet. Half a block.
CM: So, did the girls come over and eat at your place?
SI: No, they did not frequent our place because, I guess, they were too busy.
CM: (Chuckles) What was your bar like? Can you describe the inside and . . .
SI: Oh, yes. Yeah, I had 120 chairs. It was really stacked. We didn’t have too much moving area, you know, moving space in a small area.
CM: But just sort of straight-back chairs and tables?
SI: Straight-back, nothing fancy. Restroom for the ladies and restroom for the men.
CM: Did you have an actual bar . . .
SI: I had a bar. Oh, and I remember, my orders were for the girls to pick up the drinks, I think it was twenty drinks at a crack. You had no choice because we didn’t sell any beer. Didn’t sell any beer because of the shortage of beer. In the beginning, we didn’t sell any beer except on Sunday. We sold beer on Sunday, whatever beer we had, because you couldn’t sell hard liquor on Sunday. That was because of the orders from the liquor commission. And only for beer. Only beer, so---let’s say, beer and wine. That’s right, beer and wine. But I didn’t want to sell any beer.
CM: Why?
SI: Because number one, we didn’t have the supply--too much supply. And then, it was easier to operate without beer during the weekdays. The girls would just pick all we had. We had no fancy drinks, no Mainland liquor--the thing ran out, see. So, the local producers, the local manufacturers--not manufacturers. The local people produced local whiskies. Local whiskies--rum, I don’t know about gin, though. I know they had the rum and the whiskey. They had the Five Island and the Club Special, they call it.
CM: The “Five Island"?
SI: Five Island brand.
CM: Is what? Whiskey?
SI: Whiskey.
CM: And what was the other one?
SI: And the Club Special brand. See, two of ’em. I don’t know whether they had any other one now.
CM: And so, you couldn’t go in there and order anything exotic, then?
SI: Nothing exotic. If anything, with exotic, just throw in couple of cherries, and you (chuckles) got exotic drink, but it was strictly glasses, you know. The girls would take twenty glasses. “What do you want?” You had rum or whiskey. (Laughs) With water.
CM: And were the military people in the bar?
SI: The military MP’s would come in now and then.
CM: And do what?
SI: You know, find out how the people behaved in there. Because it was under martial law. We had under martial law and it was not lifted. I don’t remember when it was lifted, but we had martial law for, I would say, gee, must have been couple of years. One year or two years, couple of years, I think.
CM: Aside from it being at war, was it a good time for you?
SI: Oh, yes. I made money like mad. I never had it so good.
These were just a few parts of a very interview. I will looking at gow to put up the entire thing in the future.
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