Kau Kau's signature, which became world famous, was a large sign placed right at the corner of its parking lot. It was capped with a map of the globe and had signs beneath that showed the distance from that spot to major cities like L. A., New York, London, Berlin, Tokyo, Manila, Sydney, etc. It seemed like every person who served in the military here during those years was photographed under the "Kau Kau sign."
Families of sailors, soldiers, marines and airmen were likely to see pictures of their relative standing under the sign along with ones of him, Diamond Head in the background or surrounded by hula-hula girls. The drive-inn became, rightfully, known as "world famous." Its proprietor, Sunstrom, did not shy away from publicity. He drove around town in a new Cadillac convertible, when they first added tail fins to the rear fenders. The man actually lived on the second floor of his buzzing establishment. Sunstrom could leave his quarters and drop in on his business by sliding on a stainless steel slide that deposited him in the kitchen. (Hey, how I remember these details blows my own mind, but they are the stone truth as I know it and I feel obliged to note for pop cultural history.)
The place was open around the clock, a rarity in those days in the then-sleepy town of Honolulu. Waitresses, known as "car hops" (for our younger readers) were usually well-endowed girls with pretty faces. And the muscular legs and arms to traipse to and from cars while balancing metal trays piled with food. The metal trays attached to the driver's door at the top of the car window. Ah, those nickel-and-dime days . My earliest recollection is of five-cent coffee, hamburgers for a quarter and creamy milk shakes costing the same. Kau Kau attracted a democratic crowd. Shift workers from Kakaako shops, sales people from Fort Street, Waikiki hotel crews and assorted military personnel could all be found there, eating, smoking, hustling the car hops and playing the pinball machines. The drive-inn was torn down in 1960. It was replaced as Coco's coffee shop, which became the next Waikiki all night hangout. I ran into Marlon Brandon there, alone in a booth in 1961, on his way home from filming MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY. That was a thrill, talking to him for a while. Today, the spot is home to the Hard Rock Cafe. Few who go there are aware of its glitzy history.
Then there were "us guys." We were the local kids over 15, which was and is, the age when one can obtain a Hawaii driver's license. Mostly in our parents' cars, we would haunt Kau Kau, on weekends. We would hang out there, when "hang out" meant staying long, stretching out a cuppa coffee for an hour and looking cool. We were constantly on the lookout for girls, but no sane wahine would come near the place unless with a man or in a group. Older guys ("cats" as they were then called) owned their own cars. They were at the top rung of the parking lot hierarchy, planted in the front row. These superior beings could watch the action inside the restaurant--a semi-circle of Naugahyde booths ringed the counter area--and hold court over
inferiors parked on the fringe of the parking area.
Three public high schools were close by: McKinley, Kaimuki and Roosevelt. That comprised three quarters of the Interscholastic League of Honolulu back then. The other school, Farrington, was in Kalihi. It had its own version of Kau Kau, as did the "rural" schools.
The big private school was Punahou, up in Manoa valley, with its 76-acre campus and student body generally considered snooty by those without the pedigree or purse strings to attend. I went there from grades three through eight. Then I moved to the "real world" of Roosevelt, only a few blocks away on Nehoa Street, but light years apart in socioeconomic status. It was during the transitional period that I qualified as a J. D. (or juvenile delinquent) as we troublemakers were known. No staying home doing homework for us. We were at Kau Kau as often as possible, acting cocky and smoking cigarettes, which sold for 25-cents a pack in those days.
One of the Big Men at Kau Kau was a blond Punahou boy named Bobby Schoen. He was from a fifth-generation haole (Caucasian) family, of the type where attendance at the school, founded in 1841, was virtually mandatory. Bobby cared more about having a good time than making it to Stanford, Harvard or Yale, which was the expectation of all Punahou kids. He was in the class of 1953, two years ahead of me. A big tradition of the Buff'n'Blue (the schools colors and nickname of its sports teams) is the Junior Carnival. It was an annual big deal on this small island. A carnival midway, circus rides, book and plant sales and other activities drew crowds from all over Oahu. Alumni were recruited to staff the thing. The most prestigious gig was to work in the booth that made and sold malasadas, an insanely yummy Portuguese pastry, best described as a hot doughnut, but solid, no hole. (Tourist note: While on Oahu, try some at Leonard's Bakery on Kapahulu Avenue).
For the two nights of Carnival the junior class traditionally stages the Variety Show. It was there that Bobby Schoen first performed publicly, singing folk songs and playing his guitar. But he was a familiar face at Kau Kau. Bobby would sit atop the back seat of someone's flashy "ragtop" convertible and play Harry Belafonte songs, Hawaiian "chalangalang" party music or sing classmate Dave Guard's "Scotch & Soda". For his efforts Bob sometimes received a hot cup of coffee, or even a chili dog.
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Before long, Bobby drifted into Waikiki. The "hep" place for folk music was a joint called the Rathskeller, which catered to pre-hippies not interested in tourist-type Hawaiian music. The main man on the scene was the fantastic Stan Wilson. He was a handsome Calypso, folk and blues singer who came from San Francisco, which was the epicenter of all that in the dawn of the pop music revolution, a few years before the Beatles. Stan became Bobby's idol and mentor. Another influence was famous blues man, Josh White. From them, Bobby learned how to make his guitar sing. He picked up traditional American songs from generations past. He became an entertainer.
When it was time for college Bobby moved to Northern California, couldn't get into Stanford, so he enrolled at Menlo Junior College in Atherton. There he teamed up with that other Punahou 1953 grad, and musical visionary, Dave Guard and a mainland guy named Nick Reynolds. They became The Kingston Trio. Bobby streamlined his last name to Shane. Quickly they were performing in the North Beach area of San Francisco. They were discovered by a Capital Records talent scout and signed to a contract. This all happened faster than AMERICAN IDOL speed, all times and action being relative.
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In 1958 I was program director at KPOA, a radio station located two mile down the road from Kau Kau Korner. I was 19, but it was the third station Tom Moffatt and I worked at together. Being out in the middle of the Pacific, we received records and trade magazines, and news in general, after the rest of the nation. But then, we got the word: The Kingston Trio had the Number One record in America! The song was "Tom Dooley." It became a hit on all three BILLBOARD charts and won the guys a Grammy. The Kingston Trio directly influenced young Brian Wilson, growing up in the L.A. suburb of Hawthorne, soon to start his own group, the Beach Boys. Their rhythms and harmonies were heard, in turn, by a Liverpool group called the Silver Beatles. Those guys would soon drop the first word and go on to make musical history as the one and only Beatles.
Interesting, huh, how things have a way of working out? Bob Shane is now retired, living in the Phoenix area. He and I got together on the phone last week to reminisce about Kau Kau Korner and what's happened since. We premier that conversation, along with some great music, today on WhodaguyHawaii.com. Bob Shane and I hope you enjoy it.
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