1950s Archive

Roaming Round the Equator

Originally Published January 1951

To me, the Hawaiian archipelago is a string of wonderful pearls. Kauai and Maui and Hawaii itself, but the best of all is the island of Oahu, where sits the city of Honolulu above the Kaiwi Channel. It looked like a colored news-reel shot from where I stood on deck. I went below and awakened Mike Murder, my director and cameraman, and we came back, the morning gin-and-lime in our stomachs, and leaned on the rail enjoying the sights.

“Nothing like it,” said Mike.

“You're not a malibini?” I asked.

“Who you calling a greenhorn? I been here six times to make pictures. I can smell a luau cooking from here.”

The dock was a busy sight of people coming and people going and people just watching. And there, just watching, was a rather worn-looking woman whose best years, were very far behind her, and she smiled and said, “I'll be a cockeyed screen writer! Fellow members!”

“Carol!” I said. “Meet my director, Mike Murder.”

“Hello,” said Mike, “How's the island?”

“Filthy hot, filthy fun. Good to see old drinking friends.”

“How long,” I asked, “have you been here?”

“Just to avoid my fourth husband.” she said. “He's fifteen years younger than I am and he's suing me for alimony.”

“This called for a drink, and we went up to the hotel to have it. Carol Tinning (that isn't her name) is or was, I guess, one of the best writers of women's pictures and soap operas in the business. She wrote what she called hanky-wetters. epics about sad women and love and passion torn to tatters. Aging, wrinkling, smelling of the best brandy, she had been out of the picture for years; but it was good to see her, if only to see how time had marked her as well as the rest of us. Carol was a good soul, and she married young men to mother and feed them. She could outdrink any six drunkards and remain on her lean, bony legs. Her face was kind but not pretty, and Mike, full of lime-and-gin, said she could play the horse in bis next western, which wasn't kind even if true. (The horse has the best part in a western, anyway.)

There was a big luau back of the hotel that night, and Carol fell into the poi bowl. Poi is the fermented pink paste of the grated taro plant, but I never cared for it. It's eaten with a finger; one dips and sucks and makes faces. The best thing there was na papai boopibapiba, or stuffed crabs. The crabs arc steamed in boiling water for half an hour. The meat is picked out and sautéed with garlic, onions, tomatoes, and lime juice. Then it is packed back into the shells and cooked for about four minutes. The crabs are then dipped in beaten egg and cracker dust and fried in hot deep fat until brown. Lemon is added when they are ready to eat, and the crabs are served. with papaya juice. They're enough to. thank the good Lord for making creatures of the sea.

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