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Spirit
of Aloha | Articles
| Under the Hula Moon | March/April
2007
Under
the Hula Moon
By: JOCELYN FUJII
Moms and Pops and Me
Photo: Brett Uprichard
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The first time I shopped at Costco, I was overcome with guilt. After all, I had been writing for years about the small family businesses of Hawai‘i, the local mom-and-pop operations that were now being displaced by the big-budget, big-box retailers dotting Hawai‘i’s landscape.
A mere speck in the cavernous warehouse, I pushed my large cart through towering stacks and crates, my mind a jumble of remorse and guilt. Costco! How could I? Feeling small and weak, I reached for the tiramisu. Then came printing paper and office supplies, paper towels and Portobello mushrooms. Those Fuji apples looked good, so I grabbed some of them, too, and, hey, why not a bottle of Pinot and some yummy cheese to go with it? By the time my feeding frenzy was over, I was emotionally drained and my cart was full. I had amassed enough food for an army, and, let’s face it, my excuses for being disloyal were drained as well.
Since then, I have made many angst-ridden trips to Costco. When I first began writing for SPIRIT OF ALOHA, in the mid-1980s, my subjects were almost exclusively the owners of Hawai‘i’s local mom-and-pop stores. They were all over the Island back then, many of them in their second generation and some of them in their third. Most of my subjects had never been written about, nor had they ever advertised, and they all possessed a sweet, endearing innocence.
It was their small niche that appealed to me. They were farmers, artists and shopkeepers, often located in remote
parts of the Islands. I sought them out, and the less known they were, the better. Some were so busy and publicity-shy, they even declined to be interviewed. They grew tomatoes, taro, plumeria, kava, Kona coffee and persimmons. They used generations-old family recipes for local delicacies like saimin, plate lunches, cream puffs and custard pie. Some sold a host of necessities, like paper towels or zoris, T-shirts when you needed them, crack seed, batteries, alarm clocks, Krazy Glue—these were the staples of little chockablock stores, and when you walked in you were greeted by name. Need a Band-Aid or a flashlight? Want to know where the halalü are running? The neighborhood store came to the rescue.
Many of these businesses have closed, some in joyful retirement, others out of necessity because there was no younger generation willing or able to take over the business.
Some, like Kaua‘i’s Hamura Saimin Stand (which won a James Beard culinary award in 2006), Kitada’s diner on Maui, and Kanemitsu Bakery on Moloka‘i, continue on as Island favorites, with a longevity that is prized and enviable. (Collectively, these three establishments have existed for 178 years.) Many other longtime favorites have folded, unable to compete with the monolithic franchises and national chains that dominate Hawai‘i and the rest of the U.S. in the 21st century.
You don’t have to drive to the country to see Hawai‘i’s landscape changing. Ala Moana Center, with tree ferns, ti, kukui, taro and arguably the finest plantings of any mall in the country, has been a construction zone for a year, a maze of detours, cranes and earth-moving vehicles, all paving the way to the Nordstrom era. There was a time when the mall was lined with family-run operations, including Pocketbook Man, Iida’s, Ethel’s and the long-ago Musashiya.
“There are no hard and fast rules about retail anymore,” a friend once said. “Sometimes loyalty is a luxury I can’t afford.”
“My dad goes down to Costco two or three times a week,” another friend exclaimed, and then he methodically listed the trays of fresh apples and pears, the “endless cans of peaches,” and other volumes of supplies he buys, the surplus of it destined for the compost heap.
“There’s an entire culture of 80-somethings with a Depression-era mentality that feels secure in a place like that,” he continued. “To them, finally, the Depression is over.” 
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