“ ... in 1897, the total isolation of the Islands (sic) was impressive, absolutely cut off, as they were, except for steamers. Sometimes, moreover, Hawaii was three weeks without an arrival, so that the coming of a steamer was a real event.”
(The Spell of the Hawaiian Islands and the Philippines Isabel Anderson 1916)
To say our arrival is a non-event is an understatement. Honolulu's morning commuters could care less. Still, if you cover one eye to block out tower upon tower of bland downtown condos ...
... sunrise over Diamond Head has its possibilities.
I hurry to the statue of King Kamehameha, credited with unifying the Hawaiian islands in the early 1800s. Locals, especially those of Hawaiian descent, understandably paint a largely sympathetic portrait of the king, glossing over his - by current standards - more questionable habits.
So, I was amused to read a less culturally sensitive, late 19th Century account by an American unimpressed by the 'tawdry and vulgar' statue and who describes the Hawaiian icon as an 'old rascal':
'When the missionaries first came hither [Kamehameha] was living with his five sisters as wives; and when told how outrageous this was in the light of Christianity, he compromised the matter by selecting his oldest sister as his favorite wife and discarding the rest.”
(Under the Southern Cross Maturin Murray Ballou 1888)
Onto events within living memory.
A Honolulu newspaper's first edition on the Japanese attack ... 'six known dead' eventually becomes 2,403 ...
... including 1,177 on the Arizona (memorial above).
As with so many places 'seen' in countless illustrations and television, I was prepared for a mild letdown, but no.
Oil leaking from the Arizona - her massive hull visible below the memorial - makes the event seem oddly immediate. And I am moved that thirty-six sailors, who survived and lived on for many years, have returned to their ship.
Their ashes have been placed within the circular barbette that held one of the gun turrets.
Japan's attack brought the States into the war. For everyone else and the Americans, it ended on the battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay. The ship is now symbolically moored close to the Arizona.
A picture on the side of a gun turret shows the surrender with the Japanese delegation looking glumly on.
Here occurred one of the war's odder incidents. At an historic moment, a Canadian inadvertently delayed the conflict’s formal end.
Amid all the generals and admirals, Canada’s representative, Lawrence Cosgrove, seen here signing the surrender, was a colonel. He’d won a double Distinguished Service Order (DSO) in the Great War and was wounded, losing sight in one eye.
Canada’s Second War effort had largely been in the Atlantic and European theatres and, four months after the German surrender, the nation was starting to shift resources to the Far East. However, as no higher ranking officers were easily available, Cosgrove, Canadian military attaché in Australia, hurried north and boarded the Missouri.
It’s thought, because of his partial blindness, Cosgrove - you can see the mistake above - signed below rather than above the line allotted to Canada. This meant that those following had to change where they signed and New Zealand’s representative ended up putting his signature in a blank space. Who could blame him if he was not pleased? I expect Colonel Cosgrove deployed that favourite Canadian word, ‘Sorry’. Still, the war was over.
